The Dragon's Hunt. Jane Kindred

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СКАЧАТЬ was more satisfying than it ought to be. “At any rate, when Leo isn’t boring me into a coma, I can retain some of his memories, but I can’t recall ever having such an argument with anyone. You’d think I’d remember being tattooed, though.” He glanced down, his gaze drawn to the other arm. “Are you going to do this one, too?”

      “I was.”

      He looked up. “But you’re not now?”

      “No, I—He’s working it off. I mean, you’re working it off. So I may do the next one. If I let you stay.”

      “And you don’t know if you’re going to let me stay.” Leo nodded thoughtfully. “That’s fair. Just once, I’d like to remember getting tattooed, though.”

      “I’ll talk to him about it. He said he might want another new one.” She was starting to talk about Leo in the third person, but it seemed easier to treat them as two different people. “Might be a good way to pass the time while you’re locked up.”

      “So you are letting me stay.”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “But you are.” Leo looked smug. “And what about you? Are you sticking around? Going to keep that coat on?”

      “Maybe. Going to keep that hard-on?”

      Leo laughed in that incredibly sexy way Rhea was starting to want to keep being the cause of, the sort of laughter one would describe as being genuinely “tickled.” Not to mention the throaty richness of the sound he made. He also closed his eyes when he did it. It was probably a good thing he was tied up. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he were able to reach out and touch her right now.

      “So what is it with those tattoos, anyway?” She folded her arms, still wearing the coat, maybe subconsciously—or not so subconsciously—trying to keep herself closed to him. “They look older than you.”

      Leo opened his eyes, the smile slightly less joyful. “They’ve been there as long as I can remember.”

      “But you don’t remember all that much from the times you’re not in control of the skin.”

      “True. But I also don’t remember a time when the marks weren’t there.”

      “This soul-splitting-off thing with the other Leo—”

      “Leo the Dull.” His blue eyes twinkled.

      “Okay, Leo the Dull going off to do whatever and leaving you here in restraints—how long has that been going on?”

      The smile faded as he pondered the question. “I guess I don’t remember a time before that either.”

      “Not even when you were a kid? This was going on back then?”

      “I—don’t remember being a child. I suppose that’s a bit peculiar, isn’t it?”

      “Maybe not. Maybe it only happened after puberty. If it’s a dissociative disorder, that might make sense. Maybe something traumatic happened to you around the time you got the tattoos.”

      “Except it’s not a disorder. I told you that was bullshit Leo the Dull made up to explain me away. It’s Leo’s self-righteous hugr going off to be self-righteous without me.”

      “That’s how you see it, anyway.” She realized she was leaning toward the mental illness hypothesis after all.

      “And you’re back to analyzing me.”

      “Maybe I am. You’re right, I am. Sorry.”

      “I’m not objecting. I just find it interesting. Because it means you find me interesting.” He grinned broadly. “Which I can’t imagine is something I share with Leo the Dull.”

      “Or maybe I find your tattoos interesting. It is kinda my thing after all.” But she did find Leo interesting, with or without his hugr. “They’ve been there as long as you can remember, and they’re home jobs with significant fading—at least the two on your forearms. The other one looks professional.”

      “The other one?”

      “On your upper arm.” He was staring at her blankly. “The Midgard Serpent.” He’d worn the long-sleeved Henley today, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. What he couldn’t see, apparently, he wasn’t aware of.

      Leo’s face clouded. “He’s marked me with the serpent? That son of a bitch.”

      “What’s the significance of the serpent?” She’d noted it with some trepidation. Serpents seemed to be intimately bound up with the Carlisle sisters’ lives. It all went back to the Lilith blood.

      “The Midgard Serpent—Jörmungandr—it’s supposed to bring about Ragnarök. The twilight of the gods. The end of the world. Jörmungandr rules the waters surrounding the visible world. It’s a sea serpent. A dragon.”

      Of course it was a dragon. It was always dragons.

      Rhea sat on the stool once more, rolling it closer to the chair. “So why is it significant that he marked you with it?” It was no use trying not to differentiate between the two of them. “Is he trying to end you?”

      “Oh, I’m sure he’d love to. But that’s not it. It’s a way of containing my energy just as Jörmungandr contains the world. I assume it encircles my arm and swallows its tail?”

      “I only glanced at it, but, yeah, I think so.” She pondered for a moment. “Do you want to see it?”

      Leo’s eyes danced with amusement. “I don’t see how you’re going to be able to get my shirt off without undoing the restraints. Or are you planning to cut the shirt off me?” He looked hopeful.

      “Yeah, nice try.” Rhea wheeled the stool up next to him and pulled down the right shoulder of the stretchy fabric, baring his upper arm. “Take a look.”

      Leo’s breath was warm against her hand as he stretched his neck to see the tattoo. “Can you pull it down a little more?”

      As she did, her hand brushed the ink, and the vision from the allrune came back to her, only far more forcefully and in vivid detail. Where her earliest visions had encompassed a series of images answering a question in the client’s mind, the ones she’d had without the client’s awareness were more like impressions, a peak into memories or desires swirling about inside the person’s head. But this...this was like actually being there.

      Ice-cold air rushed up at her as she plunged toward the frozen ground, and the force of the impact knocked the air from her lungs. Blood made a spattered trail in the snow ahead of her—her blood. She struggled to stand, fumbling headlong toward the frozen thicket while the groans of the dying and the clash and thud of conflict sounded on the hill behind her.

      Her feet were becoming numb as her boots sank into the snow, the creak and crunch of her weight compressing it the only evidence she was still touching it and not floating above the ground. Her chest ached, her lungs having trouble taking in air, and blood was flowing from a hole between her ribs. Blood and sweat ran into her eyes, and she collapsed into the snow and muck and mud, a yard from the covering trees. And СКАЧАТЬ