She was taking a major risk by being in that city, but she hadn't been able to resist.
The city had always called to her, and for once, Hope couldn't soothe her dragon out of the urge to visit.
A few weeks more, and she would be bonded to a fellow dragon shifter. She was looking forward to it.
Liar.
Sweat trickled down her spine. The scents of the shifters, vampires, and humans in the bar, entwined with the smell of her desperation.
She tightened her fingers around the glass. It shattered, the liquid splashing onto the bar counter.
As one of the seven born to the dragon who’d founded her clan, it was her duty to mate with another dragon and continue her bloodline.
No other species could survive the psychic impact of bonding with a dragon shifter. She was screwed.
Likely, this was her last night of freedom, and she had to make the most of it.
When she was out flying through the air or winging through the seas on her boat, she could be herself. She felt free to do what she wanted, without fear of letting down her family.
It was also the reason she kept breaking the rules of her clan.
It was childish of her, but these occasional bouts of rebellion were what kept her dragon sated. Enough to allow the woman to stay in control in human form.
"Non-alcoholic ambrosia, please." She peered up at the bartender from beneath lowered eyelashes.
The man's eyebrows flew so high they disappeared under the hair that fell over his forehead. "Let me guess. You're a dragon shifter, the only species who don't like alcohol."
A jolt of fear ran through Hope. The heat of the enclosed space inside Alex's bar weighed down on her shoulders. Had she been found out?
Then she saw the teasing glint in his eyes.
She relaxed and raised her fingers to her mouth, pretending to yawn. "Do I look like a dragon shifter?"
The bartender looked over her features, down her chest, to her waist, then back. "Hmm. You're curvy and tiny and too sexy to be one."
She recognized his harmless flirting and decided to play along. "What does a dragon shifter look like anyway?"
"Large, fire-breathing, with wings." He flapped a palm in the air. "Never seen one. They're almost extinct, right?"
"Right." She flashed a smile.
Had the satisfaction of seeing him blink.
Oh, he was interested all right, and cute and friendly. Only…she wasn't looking for any complications.
"By the way, it's not like dragon shifters don't like the occasional alcoholic drink. But when you’re a fire-breather, alcohol tends to add fuel to the flames. Know what I mean?"
Hope clamped her lips shut. Hell! She shouldn't have said that. But her dragon had insisted she set the facts right.
Dragon 1. Woman 0.
Stupid game! But it was so much more fun to keep her dragon and woman in balance this way.
Her animal was too damn close to the surface. She never had managed to rein it in. Very early, Hope had realized that unlike the others, her dragon took a lot more to control.
The bartender didn't seem to hear her muttered comment. He was too busy shaking up a concoction.
A crash from the other end of the bar had her turning that way. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Both dragon and woman were riveted.
The clinking of the glasses, the conversation of the couple next to her…all of it faded. All she saw was him.
The man who had her attention rose to his feet, only to stumble.
She didn't even realize she was moving until she found herself next to him.
The feel of the rock-hard muscles of his shoulder bunching under her fingers sent a thrill of awareness rippling through her.
She was in so much trouble.
2
Aaron
Five minutes earlier
"Non-alcoholic ambrosia?" Aaron stared into his glass, hunching his shoulders. Sounds of laughter, conversation, the clinking of glasses…all of it washed over him. Aaron wrapped the noise around his shoulders. He wanted to bury himself in its anonymity.
"That's all you'll be getting from me for the rest of the evening." Alex, the bar owner, folded his hands over his chest. "You've already had five drinks in less than an hour."
A record, even for someone who'd decided to make the bar his second home in the past few months.
But it was not enough.
Not when Aaron could still hear the screams of his twin, Zayn, as that bastard Noah had sliced the sword through him. Noah. An immortal warrior, a fellow Ascendant, had gutted his twin three months ago.
In doing so, he'd torn out the other half of Aaron's soul.
Zayn was gone. In his place, all that remained was a black hole. A darkness that had grown since the moment Zayn’s light had blinked out on the psychic web shared by the Ascendants.
With every passing day, his grief expanded, until it twisted his insides. Until he'd become a creature he couldn't recognize anymore. A twinless twin.
Just thinking about it pulsed of keening grief through Aaron.
Keeping aside the ambrosia, he reached for the bottle with the amber-colored liquid he craved. It was the only thing that helped numb his emotions, blotting out any sign of who he was. Aaron Garcia. The youngest of their group of immortal warriors, since the death of his brother.
Before Alex could protest, Aaron tilted the glass back, letting the liquid burn down his throat. It hit his stomach with a sickening thud that did little to douse the emotions warring there.
Then, just as he’d intended, a veil of blankness crashed between him and the ever-present grief that threatened to overwhelm.
Aaron still felt the pain, but it was a little duller. Only a burning twist of a knife's blade that carved out his heart, leaving him numb.
The harsh sound of Zayn's breathing as he lay dying was muted. He would never forget the feeling of his twin's life seeping out.
It should have been him, the cynical older brother, who had died. Not Zayn. Not the one who’d had so much life. Every time he’d stepped into a room, he’d lit it up. No one who’d met Zayn had remained unaffected by his pure joy of life.
Zayn's vibrancy had provided that much-needed link to everything that was bright.
With his death, Aaron had no anchor.
He reached for his glass, only to miss it. The glass, toppled over and hit the floor, smashing to pieces.
Without a pause, Aaron grabbed the almost-empty bottle, raising it to his mouth.
Alex tore it out of his hand. "Enough!" He didn't approve of Aaron trying to drink away his grief.
Neither did his fellow immortal warriors.
Tired of being told off, Aaron had moved out of his barracks in the mayor's complex and into a room just above the bar.
Alex hadn't turned Aaron away. Probably because it was easier for Alex to keep an eye on him that way.
Not that it mattered, as long as Alex kept his tab running and kept the liquor coming every night.
The alcohol had done its job. Aaron didn't feel anything. Not even his legs as he got to his feet…and almost collapsed. Reaching out, Aaron grabbed the bar counter, as if it were his only support in a world gone wrong.
Someone touched his shoulder. The scent of vanilla and sunshine laced with something hot and spicy tugged at his senses.
"You okay, Guardian?"