The Artist’s Dragon

Chapter 1: Beginnings

It was the same dream. The same horrible dream that plagued him every night of his life, for as long as he could remember. What made it so horrible was that he saw nothing. All he could hear was terrified screaming, pleading, a high, scared voice begging him to stop. When he awoke from it, he was tangled in his sheets, covered in sweat from head to toe, and shaking.

Drake Saint-Angelus leaned against the window of his apartment, grateful for the cold glass against his skin. How he hated that dream. It was based on memory ... sort of. Based on a memory that he didn’t have. If it weren’t for the evidence, he would have insisted he was innocent. As it was, Drake believed he was guilty. He felt guilty. It had never happened again, he’d never wanted to do it again, but he was always wary about what could happen. He didn’t want another dream from something he couldn’t remember.

The sun wasn’t up yet. It was a bit too early, but Drake got out of bed anyway. He pulled on a pair of jeans that lay in a heap on the bed and wandered into the mini-kitchen. Dirty dishes would be piled on the counters if it weren’t for the fact that empty frozen dinner boxes were piled there instead. Drake put a kettle on the stove, on the back burner which was the only one that worked, then shoveled some instant coffee into a mug. He had to be on his toes today. He had an interview ... of sorts.

He didn’t much like using his training for this sort of thing, but he was new in town. Drake needed to make some money fast, and this would be the way. Besides, if Alastair Wolfe was who he thought he was, he might be able to help. When he’d been very young, Drake had been part of a group of young, hard-to-handle kids that had spent time with one Gabriel Wolfe. He would like to see him again; maybe he could help him figure out what to do about his dreams.

Drake drank his coffee. He took one of those frozen breakfast sandwiches from the freezer and heated it up; he had to eat, after all. Even if the thing was gross and loaded with sodium. He worked that off easily in a single day. Still, he was distracted, making it difficult to eat. Drake wondered if Alastair was anything like his father. At first, he’d hated Gabriel, but as he got older, as he went through the things he did, he looked back and admired the man.

After finishing breakfast, he took a shower and got dressed. After so many years, it was easy to put his hair into the loose braid he always wore it in. Thick and black, it hung down to the small of his back. Some people didn’t get it. Drake couldn’t even remember the amount of times some ignorant jerk had called him a fag just because his hair was long. Which is kinda odd, he thought, as he headed out of his apartment. Because every female I know tells me I desperately need Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.

It was true that he was far from the most tidy person in the world. The only thing he kept clean was the motorcycle he rode. And as far as he was concerned, it was so much easier than cleaning a whole car. But no AC or heat, Drake thought, pulling on his helmet. Maybe one of these days I should invest in a car. He just didn’t have the money. Gas and insurance prices were outrageous. He could barely afford to rent a hole in the wall right now. Of course, he hadn’t been better off before coming here, either.

Drake had been living in California for a while. He’d gone there to get away from his family. Now he was back in town, but still trying to avoid them. His father had never believed he was innocent, and his mother ... well, it was just easier not to see her. Her half of the family accepted him, at least.

The place he was going was downtown. It was a strip joint. Drake would never have even considered it, despite the money one could make, if he hadn’t heard that it was run by Alastair Wolfe. And he hoped he could find something else quickly, because he wasn’t at all fond of the idea. But I don’t have first month’s rent, Drake thought, as he parked his motorcycle in the mostly empty lot. And I need it soon or I’ll be out on my ass. His landlord was a goddamn prick.

There was another motorcycle in the lot, a Ducati. If he remembered correctly, Gabriel had always shown up on one. The children in his group had always thought it was so cool. I suppose that might just be where I got it from, Drake thought, securing his helmet on the back of the bike and heading inside. Of course, it could have been Hawk, too. He always had that influence on me.

The inside of the club was dim and mostly empty. Chairs were up on tables. There were two people, a man and a woman, sitting on the stage. They were eating donuts and looking through papers. The man had long, dark hair and bore a striking resemblance to Gabriel Wolfe. Must be Alastair, Drake thought. And the woman must be his fiancé that I read about. She also had dark hair, though shorter than Alastair’s. And she was dead gorgeous, too.

“Excuse me?” Drake called.

Alastair looked up, blinking in surprise. “Yes?”

“I’m here for the uh ... interview,” Drake answered. “I know I’m a little early...”

“And a little dreamy!” Sada exclaimed, bouncing down off the stage.

Alastair caught the back of her shirt and hauled her back. She shrieked, laughing as she landed in his lap. He kept her in place easily with one arm around her waist, and lifted a cup of coffee to his lips with his free hand. They looked good together, Drake noticed. He stepped forward through the tables and put on a smug grin, folding his arms across his chest and lifting his eyebrows.

“Only a little dreamy?” Drake asked.

Sada giggled. Alastair rolled his eyes, keeping a tight grip on her. “Back off, hotshot. You’re here for a reason.”

“Come on, let me go,” Sada complained, wriggling from his grip. “Someone’s got to judge whether he’s a good choice, and baby, you’re not a great judge of men.”

Drake watched as she approached. She had brilliant green eyes that were absolutely lovely and a kind, if slightly teasing, smile. The way she studied him was speculative, professional, nothing more. I bet she has eyes for no one else, he thought, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as she lifted his braid. And I can see why he’d want to marry her.

“Your hair is even longer than Alastair’s,” Sada commented.

“Is that a problem?” Drake asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Nooo,” Sada answered, her eyes widening. “I’m just surprised...”

Drake grinned. “My mother has Native American blood ... Navajo. I spent quite a bit of time with them. They’re pretty traditional ... I started wearing my hair like this when I was little and I haven’t stopped.”

“Cool,” Sada said, grinning.

She headed back to the stage and sat next to Alastair. He handed her a donut and she nibbled on it as she watched. Drake sighed. “Am I supposed to take my clothes off?” he asked.

“Just the shirt,” Alastair responded, hardly looking up. “Sada judges that part, not me.”

Drake tugged his shirt off and hooked it through the belt loop on his jeans. “What part do you judge?”

“Well,” Alastair said, looking up. “I guess I judge whether or not you’ve got talent. But Sada ends up making the final decisions. Just show us what you can do.”

Drake sighed. He didn’t really feel comfortable with this. There wasn’t even any music. Closing his eyes, he imagined the sound of drums, like when he spent time with his mother’s family. It helped, at least. He had a style that was influenced by tribal dance, not just Native American, but a bit of African he’d studied for a while some years back. Drake loved to dance, actually, and in a way he kind of liked the idea of having a job in which he could do so. If it was only minus the stripping.

“Hey, hold up!” Sada called.

Drake stopped and turned around. She hopped off the stage, licking white powder sugar from her fingers, and walked over. Sada signaled for him to turn, and he did. He felt her hand against his back and it made him jump slightly. Half turning, he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Love the tattoo,” Sada said, grinning. “And the dancing.” She turned to look at Alastair. “I like this one, sweetie. I think he’s a keeper.”

Alastair sighed. “If you say so. So, tell us your name, then.”

“Drake,” Drake answered. “Drake Saint-Angelus.”

“Ooo,” Sada cooed. “That’s a sexy name.”

Drake nearly blushed. Her soft touch was kind of arousing, and that bothered him. The tattoo she spoke of was a dragon that dominated most of his back. A firedrake. He’d gotten it because of his name, and because he thought it was cool. Sada’s hands braced his shoulders and turned him around to face Alastair. She was shorter than him, and had to stand on her toes to see over his shoulder.

“A dragon,” Sada said, grinning. “Drake Saint-Angelus, the dragon prince.”

Alastair rolled his eyes. “Lame!”

“Lamer than the big bad Wolfe?” Sada demanded, jumping out from behind Drake and advancing on Alastair.

Drake watched, fighting a smile, as she pounced on Alastair. He wondered if she worked with him all the time, or only when he was hiring. She must be a real handful, he thought, pulling his shirt back on. He bet he got really jealous every time she so much as looked at another guy. Sada seemed a little flirty, but it was just her personality. Drake knew quite a few girls who were outgoing that way.

Alastair finally got control of the situation. He had both of Sada’s wrists clamped together, holding them easily with one hand. She struggled and fussed, but couldn’t get free of his grip. Alastair stood up, pulling her with him. Actually, she went along willingly, despite her complaining, Drake noticed.

“All right, my little dancer seems to like you,” Alastair said. “So you’ve got yourself a job, at least for now. Turn out to be a problem and out you go.”

“Problem?” Drake asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No drugs. No drinking,” Alastair explained. “Not here. You also do not sleep with any of the girls, and if by some chance you do, I’d better not hear about it. Got it?”

Drake nodded. He decided that he might want to wait to ask Alastair about his father. Perhaps sometime when Sada wasn’t there, making him possessive. He needed some time, anyway, Drake thought, pushing back loose strands of hair. He had to think about ... about what to say. What advice to ask for. There was just so much, and it was so hard to explain. Especially since he hardly understood it himself.

“Hey, Drake, wait a second.”

Startled, Drake turned around to face Alastair. “Something wrong?”

“You didn’t look too comfortable doing that,” Alastair said. “You don’t seem the type to go for this sort of job. Wanna tell me what’s up?”

Drake took a deep breath. He could see Sada sitting on the stage, watching curiously. The last thing he wanted was to explain himself. His situation did get rather complicated, after all.

“Hard for me to find a job,” Drake responded shortly. “And I need the first month’s rent for my shithole like ... yesterday. It’s only temporary.”

Alastair simply nodded, looking speculative. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, Drake thought, suddenly worried. Would he hire me if he thought I was going to split right away? Not that he really, truly wanted this job. He just knew that he had the chance to make enough in a couple of nights to pay his greedy landlord. If he could get on his feet, he would have the opportunity to look for some place ... some place else ... that wasn’t going to do a background check.

“What do you normally do?” Alastair asked.

“I’m a mechanic, when I can find a job,” Drake replied. “But even if I could find one, it doesn’t pay enough to cover in a few days’ time.”

Alastair smiled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I know someone who would hire you ... no questions asked. If he likes you, he might even put you up. I can give you his number, if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Drake sighed, feeling relieved. “I um ... didn’t mean to waste your time.”

“Not at all,” Alastair said. “Actually, you have some talent. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Why don’t you come sit with us for a bit? And then I’ll get you in touch with that person I told you about.”

Drake grinned faintly. He’s just as good as his father, he thought. Even if I was a little jerk and hated Gabriel, back then. He was suddenly glad he’d decided to come see about this job after all. Now he had the opportunity to find work and a place to stay, at least for a while. And maybe if he could keep his past from leaking out, he could even make some friends.

---

“Whatcha drawin’?”

Alanna glanced up, startled. She hadn’t heard Bea come in; she’d been too focused on her drawing. This man she drew so often was the man of her dreams, so to speak. Tall, sleek body, black hair that coiled down to the floor in a thick braid, a gorgeous, elegant face, tan skin. He was stretched out beneath a blanket. On the dais behind him, a large, fierce-looking dragon was drawn. Alanna set the pad down and leaned back against Bea as she put her arms around her.

“My prince,” Alanna explained. “A man who can’t possibly exist.”

“A dragon,” Bea mused. “How beastly! I wouldn’t think you’d be into that, Lonnie.”

Alanna looked up at Bea. Bea was her best friend in the whole world. She was a petite, shapely redhead with a wild streak miles long. Turning, Alanna set her sketchpad down and stretched out on the floor.

“I should never have given you a key,” she teased. “I got my own place for privacy, after all.”

“Hiding, you mean?” Bea asked, stretching out beside her. “Lonnie, sweetie ... you’re getting worse.”

Alanna sighed. She absolutely hated it when Bea did this. It wasn’t entirely true, after all. Yes, all right, she thought, it’s true I haven’t really healed. But it’s not like I’m not trying. That had really been the point of moving out of her parents’ house. To get some independence and some space. Alanna had only been here a short time, though, and she wasn’t fully adjusted yet.

“You only let your family touch you,” Bea said quietly, running her fingers along Alanna’s cheek. “And me. You need something more.”

Alanna rolled her eyes. “I’m just fine, Bea. Believe me.”

“You long for something more,” Bea said, kissing the curve of her ear gently. “I know you do. You know how I feel about you ... I’d keep you if I could.”

Alanna sat up abruptly and gazed down at Bea. The redhead stretched out beneath her, grinning. Rolling her eyes, Alanna stood up and flopped down on the bed. She glared down at Bea and reached out, tugging at a strand of her hair. “If you feel so strongly about me, why were you sleeping with my brother?” she demanded, in mock fury.

“’Were’ being the operative word,” Bea shot back, grinning. “He’s got Xandri now. Lucky prick.”

“And what would you do if I did find a man to love?” Alanna asked.

Bea stood up and climbed onto the bed. “Be happy for you. Lonnie, we’re best friends and we have a casual relationship, but it’s never been more than that. No matter how much I tease you.”

“I know,” Alanna said, reaching up and pulling Bea down on top of her. “We lick each other’s wounds.”

“Among other things,” Bea said, her grin broadening.

Alanna laughed, tossing her head back against the pillows. It felt really good to laugh. She put her arms around Bea, pulling her more firmly against herself. Bea kissed her, softly at first, then with gently nipping teeth and the pressure of her tongue. A hand slid beneath her shirt, fingertips running across her skin lightly. Alanna squeaked, pulling back.

“That tickles!” she exclaimed.

Bea laughed. “You big baby!”

“I am not!” Alanna pouted.

Bea rolled her eyes, then began tickling her. Shrieking loudly, Alanna tried to scramble away. They both tumbled to the floor. She tried to get away, but her friend was faster, grabbing her around the waist and dragging her close. Laughing, she kicked and struggled, trying to break Bea’s grip. Although Alanna was the taller of the two, Bea was definitely the tougher.

“All right, that’s it!” Alanna said, feigning anger. “I’m leaving you!”

“You can’t leave me! We’re not together!” Bea shot back, tickling her again. “You little bitch!”

Alanna laughed, trying to grab Bea’s fingers and pull them away. Every time she managed to get one hand free, she lost track of the other. They tumbled around on the floor until they were both out of breath, then sprawled out. Alanna lay on her belly, her arms folded beneath her head, staring at the picture she’d drawn. Over the years, she’d drawn tons of them, and she couldn’t help the odd feeling that he was someone she remembered, rather than someone she’d made up.

“He really is gorgeous,” Bea commented, leaning against her back. “I’m glad to see you interested...”

“Oh ... well ... he’s special,” Alanna said, trailing her finger along the surface of the paper. “I’ve got so many drawings of him ... I started drawing them when I was about thirteen. Someone to protect me...”

“I never knew that,” Bea murmured, running her fingers through Alanna’s hair. “I hadn’t even met you then...”

“It was a year or so after that,” Alanna reminded her. “Because you were there the day I turned fifteen.”

“I know,” Bea said quietly, grinning. “Remember what I gave you for your birthday?”

“The strangest experience of my short life,” Alanna responded, turning over and putting her arms around Bea. “I should have kicked you out as soon as you started kissing me.”

Bea’s hands slid up to her wrists, catching them firmly and pinning them above her head. Their mouths met for a brief second. Alanna laughed softly against Bea’s mouth, giving her a slight push. The redhead sat up, straddling her hips, and grinned. “You know you love it,” Bea said, her eyes alight with mischief.

It was perhaps a strange relationship the two of them had. Yet it had worked for a lot of years, because neither of them had wanted something to commit to. It was only recently, watching first her brother Alastair, then her brother Quinn, find someone special, that made Alanna start to wonder. Even if she felt that way about Bea, the wild redhead was simply not the settle-down type. As it was, their relationship was the closest emotional one she’d ever had. I guess, she thought, sighing heavily. I guess I’m wondering if I have it in me to trust anyone enough ... if not Bea, who I’ve known for so long, then who?

Chapter 2: The New Dancer

Alastair was feeling especially good. His stomach was full; dinner had been his mother’s famous lasagna, and that always left him pleasantly stuffed. He walked out into the living room, where the family was gathered. His eyes went immediately to Sada, who was sitting next to Quinn’s girlfriend, Xandri. The two of them had their heads together and were looking through some of the photos Xandri had taken of Quinn and Alastair.

His mother and father were curled up on the couch, sticking M&Ms into clumps of cookie batter spread out on a tray. It always amazed him how they did everything together but hardly ever argued. Even he and Sada argued at least once a week. Small, silly little things that usually sprang from simple discussions and ended in rousing make-up sex. Alastair grinned to himself, pausing behind the chair on which his sister, Alanna, was sitting.

“Whatcha drawing, Lonnie?” Alastair asked, leaning forward for a closer look.

He paused, frowning. The sketch she was doing struck him as oddly familiar for some reason. Something about the facial features and the long, dark hair. And that tattoo, Alastair thought. That looks like ... well, it looks kinda like Drake. There were some differences, but for the most part, it looked like him. Alanna looked up at him, a faint smile touching the corners of her mouth.

“Just a sketch,” she replied.

“Where’d you meet him?” Alastair wanted to know.

Alanna blinked. “Meet him? Don’t I wish! He’s just something I dreamed up.”

Alastair opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. If that’s true, he thought, frowning, then she’s never actually met Drake. Now this was interesting. He moved out from behind the chair so he could stand in front of her and look down. Alanna had gone back to her drawing, but she looked up, her eyebrows raising curiously.

“We’ve got a new dancer in the troupe,” Alastair told her. “Why don’t you come to practice tomorrow?”

“Ooo, really?” Alanna perked up. “Could I bring Bea, too? She keeps bugging me to see you guys dance.”

Alastair laughed. “Sure. The more the merrier.”

She’d been kind of down lately, he’d noticed. He was glad he’d found something to cheer her up. Alastair settled down in the chair across from her, feeling completely satisfied with himself. We’re all so happy, after all, he thought, reaching down and resting his hand on Sada’s shoulder. Alanna should be happy too. Not that he knew much about Drake, but he seemed like a good guy. And besides, he was just going to introduce them; it wasn’t like they were getting betrothed.

---

Alanna slid out of the passenger’s seat of Bea’s car, tucking her sketchpad under her arm. The parking lot still needed a bit of work, but the building her brother had bought to house his dance troupe was looking good. A new coat of paint, a new roof, and a serious scrubbing on the windows had worked wonders on the outside. Hooking arms with Bea, they headed inside. Much of the building was taken up by the dance area, which was absolutely huge, and floored in hardwood.

The walls were lined with mirrors. At one end of the room, there were several rows of chairs, enough for a few viewers to attend, but not a huge crowd. Not yet, at least, Alanna thought, smiling. Alastair is doing a fantastic job here. On the other side of the room was a door that led to the changing rooms. Each troupe member had a small, private area all their own. Until now, Alastair hadn’t had a full troupe.

“There you two are!”

Alastair was coming towards them. He was dressed to dance, in the leather pants he always wore, which were so worn they were as soft as cotton, and a plain black tank top. There were a few of the other dancers already out on the floor warming up, and looking over Alastair’s shoulder, Alanna could see more of them coming out of the back room. Sada was also here, sitting near the door into the back room beside a pile of towels and a bunch of water bottles. She had a clipboard in her lap and a pen behind her ear; she ran a lot more of the show than people realized.

“Fashionably late,” Bea responded, grinning. “You’re looking delicious as always, Alastair.”

Alastair rolled his eyes. “Hello, Bea. Mind you keep your hands to yourself, okay?”

“Awww,” Bea pouted. “But I can already see such yummy guys ... you’re no fair.”

“I’ll make sure she behaves,” Alanna assured her brother. “So, where’s this new dancer of yours?”

“You’ll see,” Alastair replied, grinning. “Why don’t you two go have a seat with Sada?”

“All right, special seating!” Bea cheered, already heading in the direction.

Alanna laughed. She exchanged a slightly exasperated look with her brother, then followed Bea. Sada glanced up briefly as they approached and smiled, then went back to whatever it was she was looking at. And so she and Bea sat on the other side of the pile of towels, leaning against the wall. More dancers came out of the back room, until almost all of them were out on the floor. The new one makes twelve, Alanna thought.

The door opened a final time. She looked up, curious to see this new dancer. Already her sketchpad was open. What she saw took a moment to register in her mind. The long black hair was not as long, although it was still down to the middle of his back. The face wasn’t quite as elegant, being slightly more angular and rugged. The nose was a bit longer and the eyes a bit darker. But Alanna would recognize her dragon prince anywhere.

Bea was staring at her, but she wasn’t paying attention to that. She watched the fluid, easy movements of the new dancer as he stepped out onto the floor and began warming up. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she was afraid he might hear it. And her pulse roared in her ears. He’s even more gorgeous in real life, Alanna thought, swallowing hard. I need a drink ... As if she was reading her mind, Bea handed over a bottle of water.

“Who is he?” Bea asked Sada. “The new guy.”

“Drake Saint-Angelus,” Sada replied, looking up from her clipboard and grinning.

“Even his name is sexy!” Bea exclaimed, glancing at Alanna. “Lonnie...”

“I know,” Alanna said quietly. “I know.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was so graceful. Not quite as muscular or as tall as Alastair, but the two of them looked good dancing next to one another. Normally Alanna loved watching all the dancers, but she had eyes only for Drake tonight. This is insane, she thought, biting her lip. How could I possibly draw someone who really exists? Had she met him before, and she just didn’t remember? It didn’t seem possible to not remember him.

“He actually was looking into a job at the strip joint,” Sada was saying. “Although he didn’t look happy about it. Alastair thinks he probably has something in his past that makes it hard to get a job.”

Alanna glanced at her sharply. “Something like what?”

“Dunno,” Sada said, shrugging. “Probably nothing that we’d think is a big deal, but others might. Like theft or something. Something he used to do but doesn’t now.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” Bea asked.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Alanna said, turning back to watch Drake. “People do stupid things when they’re younger, but it doesn’t mean they’ll keep doing it.”

Perhaps she was a bit biased. After all, he looked like her prince. But she could see exactly what Alastair must have been thinking. There was something very quiet and unobtrusive about Drake’s demeanor. Alanna got the feeling that he was sure of himself in most things, but didn’t like flaunting himself. It’s in the way he dances, she thought, burning the images into her mind. The ones who are cocky really show it when they dance ... especially Alastair.

Her brother was a show-off. He jumped higher than the other dancers and did more physical, acrobatic moves. It was Alastair who showed them how to do the things they didn’t know, where to stand in the lineup, and how to avoid running into each other. It really amazed Alanna how well things came together ... at least usually. At the moment, she was rather amazed by Drake.

“Need a towel, Lonnie?” Bea asked, nudging her gently.

“Shut up,” Alanna shot back. “I’m trying to watch this.”

Bea laughed. “Yes, ma’am!”

Once she’d gotten over her initial shock, she was able to make herself watch more of the performance. Drake hadn’t been with the troupe for very long, but he was already fitting in very well. Alanna’s fingertips itched and burned, but she didn’t want to stop watching in order to pick up her sketchpad. Not just yet. Not until the rehearsal was over.

It seemed to finish far too soon. For a moment, as Drake turned to head back into the backroom, his eyes caught hers. Alanna couldn’t read his expression. She couldn’t break her gaze away from his, either. For a long moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Then Drake turned away and disappeared with the rest of the dancers into the backroom. Alanna leaned back against the wall with a heavy sigh.

“So, what did you think?” Alastair asked, coming to a halt in front of them. He was grinning broadly.

“You are an asshole,” Alanna answered, scowling at him. “You knew!”

Alastair crouched in front of her and reached out, ruffling her hair. “Come on. It was such a weird coincidence, I couldn’t help it. Would you like to meet him?”

Alanna blinked, surprised. Usually, her brother didn’t want her anywhere near any of the dancers. He’d made it quite clear that they were not allowed to touch her. Sometimes I’m grateful for my overbearing brother, she thought, smiling to herself. Even though he’s overprotective, he cares about me. She set her sketchpad aside and reached out, tugging Alastair’s hair.

“I’d love to,” Alanna said, echoing his grin with one of her own.

---

I’m lucky I didn’t fall on my face, Drake thought, as he pulled on a fresh t-shirt. Amazing how distracting one woman can be. Having Sada around had never bothered him, and she was gorgeous. And the redhead who’d been here today would have been enough to floor any man, but it wasn’t her, either. She wasn’t as pretty as those two, Drake thought, but she seemed to glow. And those amazing blue eyes had been on him the whole time he’d been dancing. Yes, very distracting indeed.

He wasn’t about to hang around with the other guys while they talked, either. Tifo expected him to be awake bright and early to do some extra work on a car that was only a few steps away from totaled. Drake was so grateful for the job and place to stay; there was no way he was going to blow it this time.

“Hey, Drake!” one of the dancers, Jordan, called out to him. Jordan was Tifo’s son and the only one of the other dancers he really knew at all. “Mom said you’d better not miss dinner tonight.”

Drake grinned slightly. “I haven’t missed a meal yet. Even though I keep telling her there’s no need to cook for me.”

“Well, you know Mom,” Jordan said, shrugging. “I’m gonna hang around here for a little bit. Tell her I’ll be home in time.”

Drake nodded. Jordan was a mix of his father and his mother, having his father’s short, muscular, compact body and his mother’s blond hair, which he wore long on top and shaved on the sides. Like his father, he had a mustache and trimmed goatee, which he said was a counter to the long lashes he’d inherited from his mother. Drake liked him well enough, but he knew better than to get too close to anyone.

He settled his duffle bag on his shoulder and headed out of the backroom. Alastair was out there, standing with his fiancé and the other two women, gesturing expansively around the room. Drake figured he’d just sneak on by, but he couldn’t help looking, just once. The blue-eyed woman was slender, small but not as short as the other two. Her hair was long and straight, brown with streaks of honey gold, and it looked as fine as silk. He hadn’t looked at a woman in years; why was he suddenly so intrigued by this one?

“Hey Drake!” Alastair called suddenly, making him wince. “Come over here! I want you to meet someone!”

Drake sighed and made his way over, reluctantly. The little group turned to face him as he approached. He noticed that the blue-eyed woman held a sketchpad and she was looking at him, although it was from beneath her lashes. The red-head had no problem staring at him. Alastair put one arm around Sada and the other around the blue-eyed woman.

“I’d like you to meet my sister, Alanna,” Alastair explained, nudging her forward. “Alanna, this is Drake Saint-Angelus.”

“Nice to meet you,” Alanna said softly, smiling and offering her hand.

Drake took her hand cautiously, feeling very uncertain. “Nice to meet you too...”

She had such a nice, soft hand. Small, delicate, with long, slender fingers. And she looked straight at him, her blue eyes warm and gentle. Drake pulled his hand away, forcing himself not to wipe it on his jeans. It wasn’t that he disliked her touch; he liked it far too much. There is no way I’ll let this happen again, he thought, trying to ignore the hurt and confusion in her eyes. Not to someone with a smile like that.

“I uh ... can’t be late for dinner,” Drake said quietly, looking away. “Callie will string me up by my toes.”

Alastair laughed. “Well, then, since you already know about insistent women, you’ll be joining us for dinner next Friday.”

“Wait ... what?” Drake stared at him. “Oh, I can’t, um...”

“Please?” Alanna asked, smiling slightly. “There are always seven of us now. I’d feel better if it were eight.”

“Um ... okay,” Drake replied, blinking. “I really should ... go...”

Well, when the hell did I become a pushover? Drake wondered, watching those lovely blue eyes. I didn’t know I was a shy, stumbling idiot. How was he going to eat a whole dinner with those eyes on him? He turned away and started to leave. As he was walking out of the building, he realized that someone was following him. Drake glanced over his shoulder and saw Alanna.