Page 7

“I desired dragons with a profound desire.”

—C. S. Lewis

“Change of plans. One of the eggs in this region isn’t on a volcanic island off the mainland of Indonesia anymore.”

Rui reported this tidbit in a low voice as she, Wolfe and Ben stood on the perimeter of the ballroom watching the participants mingle.

The buzz of conversation swarmed around them on a low hum—the clink of champagne and wine glasses, the tinkle and rumble of occasional laughter.

The event was far too sumptuous and glitzy for a herd of academics. Everyone was dressed to the nines—full ballgowns and tuxedos, the women decked out in jewelry. And if every attendant was an archeologist, Ben would eat his cufflinks. There was clearly an unannounced agenda at play here, despite the official releases to the public.

“Oh?” he asked casually, keeping a bland, chummy expression on his face in case anyone looked his way.

Nothing to see here; just a regular guy hanging out with his friends.

Except, he knew that the three of them drew a lot of attention, not the least because he and Wolfe were head and shoulders taller than most of the other men. Hence, they stood as inconspicuously as possible in a shadowed corner, away from the bright lights of the gigantic crystal chandeliers that sparkled from the twenty-foot ceilings.

“It’s arriving by helicopter as we speak,” Rui said.

“Is it under the jurisdiction of Sinaga?” Ben asked.

“That would be a logical guess,” came the treasure dragon’s reply.

“She’s the one who ordered the transport last minute.”

Rui scrunched her brows slightly in consideration.

“Or, at least, it seems last minute. Perhaps she planned it this way all along in case anyone was tracking her movements.”

“Does she know what it is?”

Ben spared his friend a brief look out the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to the enormous gathering hall at large.

He was ever keeping an eye out for a particular female who was supposed to be the main event tonight. Except, he wondered whether that was just a cover as well. With at least four of the powerful Immortals Ryu described congregated here, they all seemed to have an ulterior motive beyond mere appearances.

“I don’t know how many Immortals actually believe the eggs are real,” Rui said.

“After tens of millennia, the obvious conclusion is that they’ve ossified into stone. Perhaps for Sinaga, it’s merely an interesting and ancient artifact. Maybe she’s having it brought in to get some experts to take a look at it. We certainly have a congregation full of qualified professionals.”

Ben glanced at the opposite side of the ballroom, letting his gaze casually wander over the groups without pausing too long on anyone in particular.

“I see Jing Bai, Galanis, and Bayat,” he noted.

Bai was standing with a group of known archeologists, seemingly deep in academic discussion. The Greek was besieged by a gaggle of women, all of whom were vying for his attention with their chests thrust out, cleavages inviting him to take a closer look. To his credit, his eyes never wandered to the bounty before him. He merely gave them his attention and sipped on his wine.

Bayat was the opposite. He was also surrounded on all sides by women, standing on the west side of the ballroom. But he lapped up the attention with a devil-may-care grin, the teasing, interested glint in his eyes encouraging the women to be bold with him. A couple hung on his arms, and they all tried to touch him, like curious visitors at the zoo daring to pet an exotic beast.

“Sinaga isn’t here yet,” Wolfe said. “Perhaps she is on her way to receive the package.”

“I wonder what she intends to do with it,” Ben murmured.

If the Immortals knew anything about the eggs, which he assumed they did, were they here to take Sinaga’s? But then, why would she purposely bring it?

And then, Ben saw her—

Lizzy.

Unlike the rest of the event attendees, she was dressed simply in a flowing white dress, the sort one could purchase at any local shop here in Bangkok. A bit dressier than the usual modern-adapted Chut Thais , Ruean Tons and western style sundresses, but certainly not a relative, even a distant one, of glittering ballgowns and the more formal Thai attires of the Dusit , Chitlada , Boromphiman and intricate Chakkri .

But because of her understated attire, loosely done messy bun with tendrils escaping to frame her face and long, graceful neck, her simple heeled sandals, lack of jewelry, and natural-looking makeup, she stood out.

Like a fresh, sweet daisy in a crowded hothouse of more vibrant, exotic blossoms. The simplicity and purity in her bare-faced beauty lit her up from the inside out, like a star shining amidst precious gems who only borrowed light from others, unable to create their own.

Before he knew what he was doing, as if his body had a mind of its own, he’d made a direct beeline to her without a word of explanation to his friends.

When he was in front of her, blocking her path like a veritable boulder that fell from the sky, if her blinking confusion was anything to go by, she came to an abrupt stop just before she walked bodily into him.

As it was, she had to take a step back because he’d gotten into her space again.

One of these days, soon , she’d take a step forward instead, he vowed.

She stared at the middle of his chest, where her gaze was level with him horizontally. It stayed there for a few seconds longer than it should. And Ben realized that her eyes were caught on the opening of his shirt.

He hadn’t packed anything too formal, having not anticipated the need. But he did bring some button-down shirts and nice slacks. He wore a simple white shirt tonight with cufflinks and dark gray trousers. In deference to the heat, and because a Beast’s body temperature always ran hot, he’d left two of the top buttons undone.

He realized as she continued to stare, her eyes seemingly snagged on the barest amount of chest hair that could be seen in the opening, why she struggled to lift her gaze. She was trying, he could tell. She kept blinking rapidly, as if forcibly rebooting her eyes to make them obey her command to stop staring.

His inner Beast growled with triumph and satisfaction that she was so irresistibly drawn to him.

Perhaps he vocalized the growl or purr unintentionally, for she finally tore her gaze away from his chest to fly up to his face like a startled bird.

“Oh, hello Benjamin,” she said rather breathlessly.

He cocked his head a little, arching his upper body down toward her, surrounding her with his heat, encapsulating them in their own frozen moment in time.

“You seem surprised to see me. Did you think you were staring at another man’s chest, sweetheart?”

Her cheeks almost instantly flooded with a rash of color.

He absolutely loved how easily she blushed.

“It-I-it’s…” she stuttered, flailing for an appropriate response.

“Yes?”

“You’re not adhering to the dress code, is all,” she finally settled, her expression turning equal parts accusatory and mulish, as if it was his fault for distracting her.

“Neither are you,” he said, slowly taking a perusal of her from head to toe and back.

“I approve,” he rumbled.

She blushed harder, her eyelashes fluttering as if she wanted to look away from the intensity of his stare, but her gaze was helplessly trapped by his.

“You are beautiful, Lizzy.”

The usual compliment was “you look beautiful.” But Ben chose every word with purpose. He meant them exactly as he said them.

“Oh,” she said, clearly uncomfortable with his frank appreciation. She often said that when she was at a loss for words, he noticed.

“Well, you-uh-you look…”

He leaned in just a fraction closer to hear her better, because she was all but whispering now, as if she didn’t dare say what she wanted to say out loud.

“…like you,” she finished, a little miserably.

Ben smiled beatifically at her. Unable to help himself, he kept teasing.

“I look…like me?”

Her expression grew more mulish, a small frown creasing her brows. She gestured with her hand between them, waving it around the general outline of his body.

“Yeah. You look…” she cleared her throat aggressively, “like you.”

“Which is what exactly?”

She was glaring up at him now, her mouth set in a firm line, whatever made her nervous and skittish forgotten.

“You know exactly how you look, Mr. D’Angelo,” she said like a schoolteacher chastising a particularly misbehaving, purposely obtuse boy in her class.

“It’s Doctor,” he reminded her. “I have a PhD just like you.”

He had several, actually, but she didn’t need to know that yet.

She muttered something under her breath.

“What was that?” he needled.

She squared her shoulders and took a bracing breath, clearly calling for patience.

“I said academics shouldn’t look like you. It’s not fair to the rest of us.”

“Messing with your algorithm, is it, Lizzy mine?”

She was practically huffing now. Before long, he’d bet her hands would be sitting on her hips.

“I’m not yours, Dr . D’Angelo. Stop calling me things that connote a level of intimacy we don’t share.”

“But I thought we were friends,” he pointed out.

“We’re getting to be friends. We just met, after all.”

“Don’t your friends call you by endearments?”

“My best friend Meg calls me Lizzy,” she said stoutly. “Do you call all your friends ‘sweetheart’ and tag on possessive modifiers?”

“No,” he replied immediately, undaunted.

“I only call you sweetheart and mine.”

“Well… that’s…” she sputtered, looking for an objection.

He closed the distance between them, cupped her shoulders lightly, feeling her shiver at his warm, calloused palms, and bussed the corner of her mouth with a feather-light kiss.

“Because I want to be more than friends, Lizzy mine,” he told her in no uncertain terms.

She took in a shaky, trembly breath and closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them again.

“You’re irritatingly persistent,” she whispered.

Her words were a little harsh, her tone frustrated, but her expression was almost pleading.

“I’m stubborn too,” he warned her.

“Terribly, immovably stubborn when I set my heart and mind on something.”

“You don’t even know me,” she all but whined, a little desperately.

“But I will if you let me,” he returned calmly, readily.

She might have growled a little in the back of her throat. If he hadn’t still been holding her shoulders, she might have reached up into her hair and pulled it loose in exasperation.

“Good evening, Dr. Winters.”

They both turned to Jing Bai, who had suddenly appeared next to them, though they hadn’t noticed him approaching. They’d been too wrapped up in each other.

This time, Lizzy took a full two steps back, clearly taking herself out of Ben’s orbit and transmitting the message to Bai that they were not together.

Ben ground down on his back molars, straightening to his full, intimidating height.

Bai was no slouch himself, at perhaps a few inches shorter. His bearing was regal, his posture impeccable. He flicked a sharp glance in Ben’s direction, assessing him within a split second, before settling his warm, more-than-friendly gaze upon Lizzy.

“I was hoping for a dance,” he said to her with an enchanting smile.

And it was enchanting, for the tension that had scrunched up Lizzy’s face before, when she’d been debating with Ben, melted almost instantly away.

The sonofabitch put her at ease.

“You look exceptionally lovely tonight, if you don’t mind my saying so, Dr. Winters,” Ben’s nemesis said in a slightly-accented, enchantingly smooth voice.

She gifted him with her lopsided self-deprecating smile.

A muscle ticked in Ben’s jaw.

“You’re too kind, Mr—”

“Please call me Jing.”

“Jing,” she murmured softly.

And Ben wanted to punch a hole in the nearest wall.

“Shall we?”

He extended his arm.

“Oh, but I’m a horrible dancer. I’ve never danced formal dances with steps and everything,” Lizzy blurted.

“Just, you know, the easy swaying kind at my high school dances once upon a time.”

“Then we shall simply sway together,” the fucking charmer said smoothly.

That was what Ben would call him in his head from now on—“fucking charmer.”

And that was how the fucking charmer led Ben’s woman away from him and onto the circular area cleared for dancing in the middle of the ballroom while Ben stood on the sidelines gritting his teeth, both hands clenched into fists.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“Easy there, mate,” Wolfe’s deep timbre reached him through the fog of his territorial fury.

“She’ll come back to you.”

“I want to rip off his arms and beat him with the bloody stumps.”

Wolfe chuckled at his expense.

“I know the feeling.”

“How would you know?” Rui asked from beside him, joining them. “You’ve never shown any sign of possessiveness.”

“That’s because you have never given me reason to doubt,” her Mate said readily. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t feel possessive.”

She smiled a smile just for him, her whole face radiant with it.

And in a rare display of public affection, the ex-dragon-hunter leaned down and kissed his female briefly but hard. Filled with passion and promise.

Unfortunately, it reminded Ben of what he himself didn’t have.

Yet.

“She doesn’t want him,” Rui said, watching Bai deftly lead Lizzy around the dance floor in a graceful waltz.

“Could have fooled me,” Ben muttered.

Rui smacked him none-too-gently on the arm.

“Ow.”

“You males are such dunces when it comes to the partner you want,” she pronounced.

“She is clearly intimidated by you, and perhaps by her own attraction to you. Bai is easier to deal with because she doesn’t feel anything for him. It’s as clear as day. You’re smarter than this, Ben.”

“Not right now, I’m not,” he grumbled.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

For a good sixty seconds, which was an eternity as far as recovery time was concerned, Lizzy was still reeling from the enormity and intensity of Ben’s presence as she allowed Jing to sweep her across the dance floor.

She couldn’t gather her thoughts in any rational, sensible way when all she could think about was— what would that golden patch of smooth, satiny skin, revealed by those two diabolically undone buttons, taste like if my foot slipped and I accidentally fell forward to lick it?

Ben’s chest, that was, not Jing’s.

No, Mr. Bai was impeccably dressed in a formal East Asian suit, not a single button undone, only his face, a small sliver of his throat and his long-fingered hands showing. He looked both elegant and traditionally conservative. His dark, austere attire only accentuated his sharp good looks.

“I fear your mind is elsewhere, Dr. Winters. Did I interrupt something important?” Jing murmured in his smooth, low voice, regarding her closely with those shrewd dark eyes.

Lizzy forcibly reined her thoughts back in, wild mustangs that they were, galloping all over lurid fantasies about the deep canyon that bisected Ben’s deliciously muscular pectorals, and focused instead on the man who made the waltz seem like floating. Who effortlessly made her, Elizabeth Two-Left-Feet Winters, look good on the dance floor, as if she had every right to be there.

“No, you came at just the right time,” she rushed to assure him.

“Thanks for braving the accidental stomp of my clumsy feet.”

He smiled charmingly at her, revealing very straight, very white teeth.

Everything about him was charming, she reflected with her usual detached objectivity. He was truly a gorgeous specimen of masculinity. The rarified regal sort. The so-perfect-how-is-he-real sort.

Like a young Keanu Reeves at the height of perfection in the movie Point Break , which every Asian woman of a certain age had pored over with freeze frames and slow motion. Certainly, Lizzy’s mother had. And Lizzy had to hand it to her—Serena had good taste.

His intense, almost black eyes invited her to drown in them. The way he spoke, met her gaze, and held her in his arms invited intimacy, and yet Lizzy was utterly unaffected.

A, he was obviously out of her league, which her internal algorithm calculated right off the bat. But B…

There was simply zero chemistry between them. Somehow, she knew she’d only ever admire him from a distance.

Unlike a particularly exasperating someone from whom she couldn’t distance herself no matter how much logic she employed!

“Are you ready for your keynote speech? I am looking forward to it with utmost anticipation,” the perfect Mr. Bai was saying.

“I’ll be happy to get it over with,” Lizzy replied with a wry smile.

“Don’t get your hopes too high. A lot of people here think I’m too fanciful, that I should be stripped of my academic credentials.”

“ Pshaw ,” she imitated, affecting a haughty air, “ dragons. What is that misguided woman thinking? How can she call herself a scientist? ”

“What are you thinking, Dr. Winters?” Jing asked, keen interest shining in his gaze.

“I have read your dissertations, of course. But I’d like to hear directly from you. Not the watered-down version you might have put into your speech.”

Their dance had ended. Jing steered them to the sidelines without missing a step. He was so smooth, Lizzy felt like she was in a dream. And dream Lizzy never set a foot wrong.

He was clearly a professional multi-tasker, for not only had he waltzed her like a fairytale prince, but he’d also gotten them both a drink, which he now handed her, while keeping up an intelligent and involved conversation.

Lizzy took a sip of the bubbly champagne, realizing as she did so that she was actually pretty thirsty. Goodness, Jing really was perfect, anticipating her needs before she even knew she had them.

“You don’t want me to bore you with my fantastical deductions on that subject,” she warned him.

“Honestly, I have almost zero scientific proof. But isn’t our field equal parts science and art? I suppose I am more artistic than most.”

“I agree with you,” Jing said, and seemed to mean it, his gaze unflinchingly direct.

“I think there are many things in this world, both eons past and present, that can’t be fully explained by science. Archeologists try to connect the dots between discoveries, but everything is open to interpretation. Like pointillism—how do you know what picture all of those innumerable dots portray without having collected and connected them all? Yet, we will never be able to find them all, will we?”

Lizzy nodded eagerly, glad that she was speaking with someone who truly understood her view of things.

“It’s like guessing the shapes of clouds in the sky,” she said.

“Some people might see castles and trees or just blobs of white. Me, I see dragons. All kinds of them. I see gods looking down on us from unfathomable, ethereal realms. Every culture across history talked about ‘giants’ in their legends and even religions. We just assume that’s a metaphor. But what if it’s not? Tens of thousands of years ago, humans were much smaller. A basketball player today would be giants to them. It’s not impossible to imagine such a race or races existed and then became more or less extinct again. If we believe in dinosaurs, why not dragons and gods?”

At Jing’s unblinking, unreadable stare, Lizzy realized she’d gotten carried away again, as she was wont to do when she got into the spirit of her favorite topic.

“Sorry. That was more than you probably wanted to hear. I tend to get on my soap box when I—”

“No, my dear Dr. Winters,” Jing smoothly cut in. “Never be embarrassed by your passions. They become you.”

He smiled beautifully down at her, as if they shared an intimate secret between them.

Lizzy blinked, like he’d thrown dust in her eyes.

“Oh. Well. Thanks, I guess,” she said inelegantly.

He tilted his head a little, as if he was puzzled by her response.

“I better get ready for my speech. I think everyone is taking their places for the opening of tonight’s event.”

His eyes held reluctance as he executed a slight bow.

“Best of luck, Dr. Winters. I am sure you will enchant the audience as easily as you have enchanted me.”

“Oh,” Lizzy said, a bit abashed.

She watched Jing amble away, disappearing into the crowd.

Thirty minutes later, it was Lizzy’s turn to take the stage at the front of the ballroom. She stood behind the podium with the microphone and was glad she didn’t have to free-wheel it on the immense platform.

The podium gave her something to hide behind, a barrier between her and the glittering crowd. If they started throwing tomatoes at her (or expensive hors d'oeuvres, rather), she could always use it as a shield.

There were a few seconds of pause when she cleared her throat, shuffled her note cards and braced herself. It felt a lot longer, for she took in the couple hundred people gathered below, all looking at her expectantly. All dressed to perfection and appropriately for the occasion, while she clearly was not.

Despite the bright lights almost blinding her on stage, she could make out some of her more doubtful and derisive colleagues down below, their sneers already firmly in place, waiting for her to make a cake of herself.

So, she searched for something to bolster her courage. A friendly face. An encouraging look. She scanned the enormous hall for Jing, but it wasn’t him her nervous gaze landed on.

It was Benjamin D’Angelo.

Standing tall against the back wall, almost entirely in the shadows. His arms were crossed over his massive chest, his expression difficult to discern.

How did she not notice that he wore his longish hair down tonight?

Well, she noticed it now. Noticed it keenly, at the worst possible time.

Those multi-hued golden waves fell to his impossibly broad shoulders, making him look leonine, along with the scruff on his angular jaw.

She wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked.

If a lover had run her hands through it right before he dressed to come here. If she’d helped him button the shirt over his big, broad chest. If her fingers faltered because she couldn’t bear to cover it up, and left two buttons undone on purpose.

Or maybe she only got to half way because she pulled him back to bed to kiss him deep and longingly, to run her hungry lips all over his throat and collar bones to the center of that magnificent chest because she couldn’t let him go. Even for a few hours.

That’s what Lizzy would do if he was her man.

Well, she’d likely button his shirt all the way to the top and reveal as little skin as possible, lest some misguided hussy decided to undress him with her eyes (like Lizzy was doing right now).

Better yet, she’d lock him in their room tied naked to their bed, kept hard and wanting and waiting for her until she returned to release him.

In so many ways, she’d release him…

As if he knew what she was thinking, his brilliant aquamarine eyes pierced hers, locking the two of them in their own private world where everything else fell away.

It was just Ben and Lizzy. That’s all that mattered.

Thus, her nerves also fell away, shed as easily as a wrapper.

Holding his gaze, speaking only to him, she began:

“Every lore of every clan, across time and space, dreamed of dragons. Did you ever wonder why? I have. I do. I believe dragons exist, and here’s why…”