Burned (Dragon Mates Book 3) Page 3

  "You love studying all this ancient stuff." Her best work friend, Savannah, worked in another wing at the Center but had happened to meet Teagan during her first day on the job. She'd instantly created a friendship just because that was the kind of person Savannah was. "Why don't you take some sword fighting classes? They're totally a thing. My cousin's boyfriend has been taking lessons at this place for a while now. He says there are a fair number of women doing it, too. Here, check it out." She'd done a quick search on her phone, then texted Teagan the website for the Institute.

  Teagan smiled now as she opened her eyes to look down at her project again. Okay. Between Queen Boudica and Savannah, she would be able to survive her snippy little coworker as well as her first year working in one of the most prestigious museums in the country.

  Even if she was a mean girl herself who gaped at strange guys' scars and made them feel awful.

  Sighing deeply, Teagan got back to work.

  An hour passed in blissful quiet as she worked on the manuscript, carefully applying the glue in infinitesimal amounts while using the minuscule tools that very gently repaired these irreplaceable pieces of history. This was basically her happy place. Did that mean she was a total geek? Pretty much. Coming from a family of academics, it was pretty normal. It had also taught her that the life of the mind could be pretty brutal. Especially in the workplace. Colleagues like Celia used anything at their disposal to claw their way up to the top of a fairly rarefied food chain.

  Teagan grimaced slightly as she kept working. Fine by her. She didn't really want to get to the top of any food chain. She was happy enough just working in this world-famous museum. It had been the culmination of a lifetime of dreams to land a position here. She didn't need to get to the top of any heap at the renowned Bernal Center. Just having a job here, with as little interaction as possible with other human beings, aside from someone awesomely nice like Savannah of course, suited her fine. She just wanted to do her job well, work hard enough to get noticed for doing a good job so she could start to get bigger projects, really cool ones, and be able to keep said job for as long as possible. Her whole life, for example. Was that too much to ask?

  Just as Teagan leaned back to stretch out her tight muscles, the scatter of a woman’s happy laughter followed by the deeper rolling voice of a man snagged her attention. More laughter followed from other people, all of it sounding just ridiculously, well, happy. She reflexively glanced out in the hallway through the door Celia had of course left open. A tall, dark-haired, undeniably gorgeous man strolled down the hallway, his arm possessively wrapped around the shoulders of a curvy, beautiful blonde woman. The two of them looked at each other with adoring gazes. Walking alongside them was another couple, also featuring a stunningly handsome man with a deep tan and a vivacious woman with sparkling brown eyes, both of whom also looked at one another with such pure bliss it would almost be sappy, if not for the fact that it was indubitably genuine.

  Teagan smiled somewhat wistfully. Sebastian Bernal, the owner of the Bernal Center, a multi-gazillionaire, and former dedicated playboy, had recently fallen head over heels in love with Lacey Whitman, one of the curators here. Teagan recently had done some work for Lacey, helping one of the senior conservators to restore a book from Lacey's area of expertise in old California history. She'd enjoyed their time chatting. She hadn't dared, of course, ask much about Lacey's upcoming fairytale wedding of the century to Mr. Bernal. Pretty much every woman working at the museum who had crushed on the charismatic owner of the place was quietly abuzz with speculation about the ceremony details, which were sure to be epic. Teagan didn't really like gossip. She also definitely didn't know Lacey well enough to ask for any insider scoop. They'd spent most of their brief interactions together discussing their love of history and their own particular era interests, but that had been it. Regardless, Teagan had found Lacey to be a really nice person. Maybe she'd become a friend someday, too.

  The other couple was Gabi Santos, a recent hire who had set the museum to talking about some industry tumult of which she'd been a part. But she'd apparently brought such a fresh, energetic take to the underwater archeology department that she was the new darling of the Center. Teagan had interacted with her only a few times as well, but she'd immediately liked the high-spirited woman. The man next to her, Kai Long, who basically looked like a surf god wrapped up with a drop-dead sexy Poseidon of the deep, was a committed defender of marine life as well as Gabi's fiancé. Teagan had only seen him once before, since he didn't work here. He seemed just as besotted with Gabi as Mr. Bernal did with Lacey.

  Teagan sighed again as she watched the lovebug pairs continue down the hall, still deeply wrapped up in one another. Then she got back to work. But even as she focused intently on the current page needing repair, she let her thoughts drift. Deep inside, Teagan had always wondered if her own storybook prince charming was out there somewhere, ready to sweep in and shower her with declarations of undying love, pretty baubles, millions of dollars, and a faithful promise that he'd adore her and only her for all the rest of time.

  Well, truthfully she didn't really care about the millions. Or pretty baubles. Declarations of undying love might be nice, but she wasn't holding her breath. She was a nerdy scholar, and she knew it. She liked old books. She liked old things. Her idea of a good time was discussing ancient history, for crying out loud. Of course, she didn't really mind going out on a date, not that those had ever led anywhere. Nor that she'd had that many dates in her entire life. In fact, the last time she'd been on one had been—

  Wow. Had it really been that long? Her cheeks flamed slightly as she realized that yes, yes it had. She'd last been on an actual date during the first year of her internship back in Illinois. So that was...about two years ago. Like all of them, it had been a terrible date, but still. Two years ago was pretty pathetic, even for an avowed nerdy girl. She was still in the prime of her life and all that.

  “Good thing I have you to fill my days and nights," she murmured at the ancient text spread out before her on the worktable.

  “What was that?" The voice sounded behind her from about two feet away.

  Yelping, Teagan about jumped out of her own skin as she whirled around, heart pounding. "Holy cr—uh, whoops," she ended, eyes widening.

  Walter and none other than Mr. Bernal, freaking powerful gazillionaire owner of the freaking Bernal Center, stood directly behind her. They must have crept in on soundless cat feet. Or, more likely, she'd just been so focused on the book she hadn't heard them approach. Teagan sucked in a breath, the adrenaline spiking through her. Really, this was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that she'd had the life just about scared out of her. Maybe she should stop listening to her sister's weekly phone calls detailing the latest news of murders and stranglings and such in the greater Los Angeles area, and just stick to reading ancient manuscripts filled with bloodshed resulting from battle with swords and crossbows instead. She was a lot less likely to get offed by a sword, and it sounded like a more interesting way to go anyway.

  Smiling apologetically from behind Mr. Bernal, Walter said, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to frighten you. I'm glad to see you're so engrossed in your work," he added, that approving look on his face again.

  Teagan glanced from one man to the other, knowing her face was starting to flame simply from being on the spot. Though neither one of them seemed to be staring at her freckles. If someone wasn't being cruel about it, like Celia, it didn't bother her all that much anymore—except when it was people who actually mattered. Like her very important employers. Both of them standing there staring at her like she was a particularly intriguing specimen.

  "Ah, okay. I—I'm sorry, did I miss a meeting or something?" She hardly dared to look at the owner of the entire Center, who was like a rather terrifying hurricane force. She fixed her gaze on Walter, who had been like a sweet, protective uncle to her ever since she started working here.

  "No, no, nothing like that." Walte
r waved away her concerns. "We're actually here because I wanted Mr. Bernal to see your work personally. What do you think, sir?" Walter grandly gestured at the book Teagan had been working on.

  Teagan gaped at them, still completely flummoxed.

  "If I may, Ms. Lambert," Sebastian Bernal said, stepping toward the manuscript, a severe look on his face. "Teagan, isn't it? An Irish name."

  Startled, Teagan stepped aside, just barely managing to murmur, “Yes, it's Irish.” As Mr. Bernal leaned down to study the book she'd been working on for the past three hours, she cast an anxious look at Walter. But he just shook his head, smile broadening, and stepped forward to join the big boss in examining her painstaking repairs to the ancient tome.

  Well, apparently she wasn't about to get fired. So… This had to be a good thing, then?

  The two men looked at her work for some time, quietly commenting on this repair, that new problem to fix, the overall quality of the binding, the high caliber of the vellum pages despite its signs of deterioration, the precision of Teagan's glue work, and so on. It was somewhat torturous to stand there and listen to them discuss the quality of her work. Teagan forced herself not to fidget. But she couldn't control the color she knew flared in her face and neck, making her freckles stand out even more prominently in a clear signal to anyone who had known her for even an hour that she was highly uncomfortable.

  After another long moment filled with murmurs, they looked up at her. Mr. Bernal raised his eyebrows, glancing over at Walter. "You're right, just like you always are. She's good." He nodded his head, suddenly assessing Teagan in a way that made her even more nervous. "Your work is impeccable, Ms. Lambert. You were a first-rate hire, as both Walter and my lovely fiancée attest.” A dazzling, devoted expression briefly illuminated his face as he said that. Even as she felt a tinge of startled warmth that Lacey must have mentioned her with praise, Teagan also wondered, for the ten millionth time, if any guy would ever have an openly worshipful expression like that when thinking about her. “I do believe you will be a credit to the Center,” Mr. Bernal went on in more objective tones, “for the project we have in mind for you."

  Teagan was more confused than before. "This project?" she tentatively asked, gesturing at The Book of the Near Hills.

  "Yes and no.” Mr. Bernal offered a cryptic smile. “Your background in ancient Irish history has been well documented. I also read your master's thesis." He gave another short nod at Teagan's dropped open mouth. "Excellent work. It demonstrated very strong knowledge as well as an obvious passion for the era. Now then, the book in question.” He pivoted so neatly that Teagan's head swam. “It was recently acquired by a client who collects items from that era, mainly due to a family history.” Gesturing at The Book of the Near Hills, he added, “The same client who owns this book.”

  Something odd flashed across Mr. Bernal's face when he said that. Teagan was still too busy grappling with the fact that the owner of the entire Center had actually read her master's thesis that she couldn't even begin to try to figure out what else might be going on. Still lost, she bobbed her own head, a faint smile pasted onto her face.

  “The books were actually purchased together,” he went on, “but the other one is the more valuable and not quite as badly damaged as this one. But it does still need some repairs.” He gave her a stern look. “While Walter will, of course, continue to oversee your work, you will go to the client's estate later this week to show him in person images of the repairs to this book you have made so far. He will approve them or not."

  The tang of the glue surrounded Teagan like a comforting cloak as she stared at Mr. Bernal, pulse quickening and mind tumbling. Wait, what? She was being given a project of her own?

  "Really?" she breathed, glancing from him to Walter. They had to be pulling her leg. She was too new to be given this responsibility. Wasn't she? Besides which, it was highly unusual. “Don't clients usually come here if they're local, to see the work in person?”

  Mr. Bernal's face tightened for an instant, with something Teagan almost thought was regret. His eyes, she suddenly noticed, reminded her of her sword master's. They had just the faintest bit of odd similarity to them. Almost as if the pupils were slightly contracted.

  Or maybe elongated a bit? Teagan stared hard at his eyes for a moment, magnetized by curiosity.

  Mr. Bernal narrowed them at her, then raised an elegant eyebrow.

  Oh, crap. Rude, rude, rude. Would she ever learn? Swallowing hard, she glanced back down at the book as her flush rose more.

  Smoothly, Mr. Bernal continued. “This is a special client. He is a close personal friend of mine, and he prefers to do business at his estate. As you've been working on the book since its arrival here, you will be the one to make the repair progress presentation to him.” His voice held the brusque tone of someone used to being obeyed. “You will bring a work tablet with you, on which you will show him close up photos of your repairs. If he approves, you will then be tasked to work on the other book, which is currently located at his estate. I expect you to do an excellent job of,” a brief hesitation made Teagan frown in puzzlement again, “persuading him, Ms. Lambert.”

  Um, okay. That made no real sense, but sure. Nodding again, still not daring to look back up at the man in case she turned into a staring fool once more, Teagan murmured an appropriately affirmative response.

  Walter chuckled with delight, drawing her gaze. He grinned at her, practically vibrating in his childlike enthusiasm. He was an absolutely brilliant man, definitely a bigger geek than even Teagan. "Oh, yes indeed! I knew when I hired you that you would do very well here, Teagan." He gave her a fond look, like a proud father would. Teagan flushed enough that she was almost tempted to fan her face. “You're definitely ready to move up a notch. I have no doubts you will handle the remainder of this project quite well."

  Teagan listened, quietly thrilled and a little dazed still, as they discussed the details of the project. Walter added that he would send her an email later in the day that would have all the information she would need.

  Whoa. So maybe she really was ready to take on bigger projects here. This could mean she wasn't nothing more than a geek who also was unnecessarily mean to total strangers—that zap of guilt shot through her again. Just maybe, this meant that things were about to start happening to her. Big, cool things.

  Sudden movement behind Walter and Mr. Bernal as they were still talking snagged Teagan's attention. Celia, silently hovering in the doorway. From the nakedly murderous expression on her face, she had caught the tail end of the conversation. The conversation that said Teagan was moving on up.

  Catching Teagan's eye from behind the oblivious men, Celia’s mouth twisted into a mocking smile as she slowly shook her head, eyes narrowed. Holding her fingers together around her face then flicking them apart to indicate a smattering of freckles, she leveled another dismissively snotty look at Teagan before abruptly turning and stalking away.

  Teagan's stomach clenched unpleasantly as the self-doubt roared back in. It slapped at her, making her cringe as all her old mistakes and missteps filled her head.

  Somehow, she'd screw up this amazing new opportunity. She was nothing more than a tactless geek who couldn't get a date or excel. There would always be a Celia, or a gorgeous man to whom she went above and beyond to be thoughtlessly idiotic and cruel, to make sure she couldn't forget it.

  3

  Sweat poured off of Ash as he dropped to the floor of his home training gym after a flat bladed blow landed hard across his forearm. He stayed down there longer than he intended to. It was beyond maddening, but apparently he could only perform at about seventy percent of his former rate of strength. Also of lung power. After a year of slowly building himself back up again after the accident, his body seemed to have hit a plateau from which it couldn't go higher.

  "Get up.” Eamon's calm yet uncompromising voice brooked no protest. “At this point, I would have already cut your head off. You're not fast enough.”


  Ash half gasped, half roared back. "I can't get up! This is as good as I'll get after an hour's workout.” Disgust roiled in him, setting his dragon roaring inside him as well. “Without my gold, half useless as I am, I'm never going to get any better than this.” He punched his good fist into the mat beneath him. “This is it, damn it to seventeen hells."

  He truly despised the bitter rage that clung to his voice, but he couldn't seem to stop it. The morning's workout had been tough, for Eamon had pushed him harder than he had the previous week. He'd been doing so every week since Ash had been able to start trying to heal as much as was possible.

  Then, of course, there was the stinging memory of the stunning warrior woman who had gasped in horror at the sight of his ravaged face. It still deeply rankled him for some unknown reason. His dragon rumbled back at him, this time sounding almost a little peevish.

  Eamon wasn't about to let him get away with this pity party. “You are no longer an invalid, Ash." His voice sliced sharper than his blade. “Get up and fight back. Now."

  Somewhat surprised, Ash dragged his gaze up to his fealty man. Eamon awarded him a dark look, the challenge obvious by his suddenly mulish expression.

  Very well then. Eamon wanted to push him even more, was that it? Fine. No way in hell would Ash let this test go that easily.

  Without warning, he sprang to his feet, even though his muscles felt heavier than ballast. His lungs shrieked at him. Drawing on his dragon, who now thundered in support in his mind, Ash leaped forward. Arcing his arm overhead, he whirled a half step to the side, then slammed his own practice blade at Eamon in what might have been a killing blow had they been battling with actual swords.