Tornado_A Paranormal Romance Read online

  As they passed the open doors to the dining room, Seph peered in and saw only one place setting prepared. In the past, he knew the china would already be put out, and all the polished silver arranged accordingly. He jerked his head. “Are we not invited to join our father for supper?”

  Paul walked ahead of them to the study. “Again, as part of your father’s instructions for this evening, the number of place settings would increase dependent upon ‘who chooses to stay after hearing what he has to say,’ to use his exact words.”

  “Do you know what this is all about?” Vann asked the butler. “Because we’re all in the dark.”

  “I am not at liberty to say,” Paul replied, and it was true – anything Father confided in him, he had always been sworn to keep secret. They stopped at the closed double doors, wood carved with elaborate images of wyverns circling over a forest. Paul looked at the brothers with a wry smile that creased the skin at the corners of his eyes. “But if you do choose to leave, Mrs. Carson has already insisted upon preparing boxed meals for you to take with you. I believe she even made some of her popular snickerdoodles to include in the package.”

  “Good old Mrs. Carson,” Mal said, echoing the sentiment they all shared for the house’s cook. She had always taken good care of them, referring to the clutch mates as ‘my boys’ and shooing them out of her kitchen whenever they would try to sneak in and steal her delicious cookies fresh out of the oven.

  Paul slid the pocket doors apart and stepped aside to allow the five siblings to make their way into the room. Father’s study had always been a source of mystery; his private space where he conducted business and held private meetings pertaining to matters of both Vovin Steel and Tamerlane. Seph recalled many times throughout his childhood, watching his father sequester himself in this room with great men of power, including world leaders. He would often be tempted to listen in on their conversations, but Father had always ordered the staff to keep the kids well out of dragon hearing range. Maybe if he had let us get a glimpse of what he did, we would have shown interest in joining him in running the forge.

  Cyril Vovin, patriarch of the family, stood in front of the huge marble fireplace with his back to them. He always dressed impeccably; tonight, he wore a dark suit and leather shoes polished to reflect the light of the flames dancing in the hearth. The fire’s glow filtered through his thick, salt and pepper curls, giving him the appearance of a religious icon. “My sons,” he said, and his voice had the same rich, smoky timbre that could strike fear into the hearts of any who dared to cross him, but which could also offer comfort to those in need of reassurance. Once a tall, foreboding figure, he now looked thinner, the years beginning to show, but he still carried himself with regal bearing. He pivoted and smiled, the lines in his chiseled face looked deeper than Seph remembered from his last visit. Cyril’s dark green eyes shimmered with affection as he regarded his brood. “Welcome home.”

  “Well, Father, the suspense is killing us,” Vann said, cutting right to the chase. “Why did you call us back to Tamerlane?”

  “Do you know why it’s called ‘Tamerlane?’” The elder Vovin walked over to his favorite antique armchair with the gilded claw feet, sat down, and picked up a cigar from the ashtray on the table beside it. “It’s from a poem by Edgar Allan Poe, about a Turkic conqueror who lost the love of his life.” He looked around at the walls and high ceilings with their beautiful tapestries and woodwork shaped by the finest craftsmen. His gaze settled on the large portrait of a gorgeous woman with serene blue eyes, a kind smile, and blonde hair falling over one pale shoulder. “I gave it that name in honor of your late mother, Mara, one of the loveliest human women to ever win the heart of one very stubborn Dragon.”

  Seph glanced over at Drew. Father rarely talked about their mother since her death many years ago. The boys had just celebrated their tenth birthday when she collapsed in the garden. The cancer had spread quickly and within months she was gone. With all his power, Father could not save her. Seph remembered how she and Father would often argue, and once she had announced in front of a houseful of party guests that she had regretted giving up her career as an architect for marriage. The doctors had said it could have been the brain tumor making her say things she didn’t mean. Father would have forgiven her, anyway, because he had loved her so much.

  As with most dragons who lose their mates, after Mother’s passing, Father had become withdrawn. He had refused to eat or to come out of the bedroom they had shared. Finally, after a lot of coaxing from his own clutch mates – particularly his three sisters – Cyril had rallied. He still had many good years ahead of him and while he could have fathered another clutch, he had never sought another partner. To him, Mother had been all he had ever wanted.

  It was his father’s devotion to his late wife that had inspired Seph to go into counseling Dragon and Human couples. Maybe the doctors had been right about the tumor, but Seph remembered how sad Mother would get long before she had been diagnosed. Sometimes, he would hear her talking to Mrs. Carson about missing Father when he would go away on long business trips. I don’t want others to go through what they did, he thought. He smiled up at his mother’s portrait and felt a pang of sorrow. For two people who loved one another, their relationship lacked a key ingredient: happiness.

  Now, Cyril blew on the end of the cigar, and the heat of his breath caused it to smolder and then transform into a glowing ember. “I will not hold you in suspense a moment longer,” he announced. Taking a long draw from the cigar, he reached for a brandy snifter on the side table and exhaled the smoke into the glass, where it settled in a coil above the liquid. “After much consideration, I have decided to relinquish my position at Vovin Steel and seek retirement – and in doing so, I will be passing on control of the company to one of you.”

  Called it, Seph thought with a smirk. He cleared his throat. “So, which one of us did you have in mind for the job?”

  “That depends on you.” Cyril swirled the brandy before taking a sip. He swallowed and licked his lips before setting the glass aside again. Crossing his legs at the knee, he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and regarded Seph. “And by ‘you,’ I mean ‘collectively.’”

  The young men all gathered closer to their father, standing before him in a semi-circle. “What do you want us to do, Father?” Drew asked.

  Cyril puffed on his cigar. “It has come to my attention that not one of you has produced an heir,” he said. “By your age, I was already married and beginning a family, as is common for our kind. Dragons are all male, as you know. While some Human women are genetically compatible with our race and can bear our eggs, we alone have the power of transformation. If we do not breed, we die out as a race. So, we must – as they say – ‘be fruitful and multiply.’”

  Vann responded with a nervous laugh. “Wait. Are you saying we need to make some kids?”

  “That is the long and the short of it, yes,” Father replied. “But more than that, you must find compatible mates, marry, and begin your families properly.”

  “All of us?” Mal asked, motioning to his clutch mates.

  “All of you,” Cyril confirmed soundly, and tapped his ash off into the tray on the side table with an elegant flick of his thumb. “And just in case you require a bit of incentive, consider this.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed, and pointed at each of them in turn. “Anyone who does not follow orders will be removed from the family.”

  The five brothers responded with a combination of shock and disbelief, expressed through gasps and looks of surprise. “Disowned?” Drew managed to choke out.

  “I believe that is what ‘removed from the family’ means,” Cyril said.

  Vann spluttered. “You can’t be serious!”

  Father smiled at him. “Oh, but I am.”

  “This is going to kill my reputation,” Mal muttered, shaking his head.

  “Actually,” Don said, speaking up for the first time, “several musicians with wives and families have maintained
their popularity, especially with female fans. A man who is faithful to his partner and a positive role model to his children is very appealing.”

  Mal snorted. “Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet, bro.”

  “In Donnie’s defense,” Seph said, “he’s right. In my line of work, I find that my female clients favor males who can provide for their families.”

  Father rose from his chair and tugged at the cuffs of his jacket sleeves. “You’re free to continue this discussion,” he said, “but you would be wise not to waste too much time. I’m giving you all six months to complete the task.”

  Seph’s mouth dropped open. “Six months?” he echoed. “Father – with all due respect, that’s not a lot of time.”

  “Then you’d better get started,” Cyril said. Retrieving his cigar, he strode toward the door. “I believe dinner is about to be served. If you choose to accept the terms placed before you, you are welcome to join me.” With that, he left the room in a swirling cloud of smoke.

  “Jesus,” Vann muttered. He sank into the chair their father had vacated and dragged his hands down his face. He looked up at his siblings. “Can you believe this? I feel like I’m in a nightmare.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it’s going to be hard for you to give up having sex with all your clients at the spa,” Drew said dryly.

  Vann gave him a sour smile. “Says the District Attorney who sleeps with his interns.” His eyes widened in a comical manner and he pressed his fingers over his open mouth. “Oh, wait – is that inadmissible evidence?”

  Drew glared at him. “I’d still stand a better chance of finding a mate before you could,” he fired back.

  This made Mal stop pacing. He raised his eyebrows at his clutch mates. “Hold up,” he said. He stalked toward Drew, shaking a finger at him. “I like that idea.”

  “What ‘idea?’” Seph asked, wary.

  Mal grinned. “As long as we’re being forced to do this, why not make it interesting and turn it into something fun, like a contest?”

  “A competition?” Seph asked. “And here I thought you were the laid-back one who tells everyone to ‘go with the flow.’”

  “Yeah, well, Father just changed up that game,” Mal pointed out. He tossed his head, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “That’s why I said we should make it ‘fun.’ Something like…last one to find a wife has to do something for the other four.”

  Now Vann laughed out loud. “In that case, I think we all know who’s going to lose.” He swung around to regard Don, sticking out his lower lip in mock sympathy. “The only virgin among us.”

  Pushing at the bridge of his glasses, Don scowled at Vann. “You put so much emphasis on physical intimacy,” he said, voice soft but full of disdain. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe the reason you’re all unmarried is because you think of women as sex objects and not as intelligent human beings?”

  “Wow,” Vann said, deadpan, “that almost sounds like something a gay guy would say.” He leaned forward, peering at Don. “Is that why you’re still single, Donnie? Do you prefer men over women?”

  “I am not gay,” Don snapped. “And even if I was, what difference would it make? There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

  “There is, if you want to stay in this family,” Drew said with a grimace.

  “Relax, guys,” Mal said. Twisting the heavy silver rings adorning his fingers, he looked around at his brothers. “I didn’t mean for this to get ugly. I just thought it might help light a fire under our asses. You know?” He did a little dance move. “A little…motivation.”

  Seph held up his hands. “Sorry, Mal,” he said. “But I have to agree with Donnie. We’re talking about our futures, but we should also take into consideration that the women we choose will be the mother of our children. Speaking from a professional point of view, she should be someone who appeals to us on every level. It’s not just about sex. Mating is all about compatibility.” He rubbed his palms together in a slow circle. “Whoever she is, she has to be the right one.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck finding Ms. Right in six months,” Vann said with a bemused huff. He turned to Mal. “Okay, asshole – forget these guys, I’ll take you up on that bet. Good luck finding a groupie who can produce an heir worthy of the Vovin name.”

  “Right back at ya,” Mal said, offering his hand for Vann to clasp. He winked. “I know it’s going to be hard for you to narrow your client list down to just the right one, and then hope that she’s not already married!” He jerked his head toward the hallway. “Now, let’s go grab something to eat – I’m starving.”

  As Mal and Vann left the study, Seph turned to look at the two brothers who remained with him. Don stood with his arms folded tightly across his body, staring down at the firelight as it danced across the patterned rug beneath their feet. Their bond as clutch mates made them empathic to each other’s emotions when they lowered their mental defenses and allowed them to connect on that level. Now, he could feel the frustration and embarrassment rolling off Don in waves. “Don’t let them get to you,” Seph murmured, reaching over to clasp his sibling’s shoulder. “They’re assholes – but then, we always knew that.”

  Don let out a light snort, and smiled. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. He sucked in a deep breath and dropped his arms to his sides. “Some things never change.” Shoving his hands down into his trouser pockets, he wandered out.

  Now Drew and Seph stood together, just the occasional snap from the fireplace to fill the silence in the room. “Six months,” Drew mumbled at last. “I’ve worked trials that lasted longer than that.” He looked over at Seph and shook his head. “As busy as I am, when am I going to find the time to look for a wife? And where am I supposed to find one?” He grimaced. “Any suggestions?”

  Seph sighed. “When I figure it out,” he said, “I’ll let you know.”

  Chapter Two

  I can’t believe I’m here, Seph thought with a grimace. He stood outside the frosted glass doors of an office suite, the words Wings of Love along with the image of a dragon standing behind a human woman, his arms around her, and his wings spread in such a way that they formed a heart. Seph rolled his eyes. He never imagined that he would have to resort to a dating service to find a wife. Then again, the women in his social circle were either married or not compatible. And compatibility was key when it came to finding a mate. Not all Human women could bear Dragon eggs. They had to be tested for the specific genetic markers that made them part of a rare and highly sought-after section of the world’s population.

  Almost a month had already passed since Father handed down his order that the five brothers find wives and settle down. Seph had steered clear of the competition between Mal and Vann, choosing to conduct his search at his own pace. He had confided in his friend Tony Mireu over lunch one afternoon after a grueling session on the racquetball court. “I don’t know what to do,” Seph had lamented, after he finished telling Tony about the situation. “I don’t want to be cut from the family. It has nothing to do with inheritance – I’m financially secure with my practice and various investments I’ve made over the years, so I would never need a penny of the Vovin fortune. It’s the other part, having the natural ties severed, that scares me.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Tony had said, with a sage nod. “No Dragon wants to be cut off from his clan. I met one back in college who came from the Middle East, distantly related to one of the Persian dynasties. He had come over here to go to school when war broke out back in his homeland. He lost his whole family – parents, clutch mates – in bombing raids. He told me he even felt it when they died, through the empathic bond.”

  “Oh, my God,” Seph had said, mortified. “What happened to him, after that?”

  “Well, he was devastated, of course. He had to be put on suicide watch because he didn’t know how he would survive on his own. He said he felt…empty.”

  Seph had shuddered at that word. In his line of work, he had often encountered couples
who struggled with connecting to one another, and sometimes a Dragon would say he felt hollow inside, like something was missing. It was that bond that was vital to their kind, the sharing with family and chosen mates essential to their existence. Without it, they withered from the inside. Seph had been told it felt worse than any physical pain, too. I don’t want to go through that, he thought.

  Taking a deep breath, Seph grasped the brushed chrome door handle and pulled. He stepped through into a reception area decorated in white with the barest hint of rose and lavender. Watercolor paintings of happy couples, dragons touching noses with women, adorned the walls. A young lady sat at a crescent-shaped desk with the business’ name in raised metal letters and backlit by violet across the front. Seph took a moment to admire the large floral arrangement on the corner, which included – of course – pink snapdragons. “Hello,” he said, with a smile. “I’m here to fill out an application for a mate match.”

  The petite redhead beamed. “Of course, sir,” she said, and handed him a clipboard with a sheet of paper attached and a pen. “If you could have a seat and just fill this out, we can get you started right away.”

  “Thank you.” Taking the items, Seph retreated to one of the plush sofas lining the room. The gentle strains of a string quartet filtered over a hidden speaker system as ambient music, relaxing without being distracting. He took a moment to look over the form before writing in the provided spaces. First, of course, his name, date of birth, and contact information. Then, his Dragon family history. He almost hesitated, but his gaze flicked up to the words at the top of the page that guaranteed a respect for privacy. Tony had told him this place also did not judge a person based on his material wealth – it was all about finding a partner who would be best suited for him genetically, physically, and emotionally. He scribbled in ‘Vovin’ under clan name and ‘Anglo-European’ for origin. Anyone with any knowledge of Dragon clans would know that the Vovins originated in Romania, but immigrated to the British Isles where they integrated with smaller, scattered families with no strong roots. These groups would diverge into what would become the powerful bloodline that existed today.