Mated To The Dragon Of Manhattan (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) (5 page)

Truman's butterfly-inducing grin faded, making me wish I hadn't said what I had. Because I wanted to see his handsome grin all day. Though I
was
still a little irritated at being held captive, unable to even open my own door.

But then, a fraction of his little grin returned.

"I think we should talk. I'll explain some things that might help make all this make sense. Now, how would you like to join me for a rooftop brunch? I have a rooftop garden just above my apartment, which is just one floor up from here, and it has one of the best views of the city. So, what do you say?"

I nodded, feeling as if I could get lost in his charcoal gray eyes. "All right. I'll have brunch with you."

His grin got a lot bigger.

"Wonderful. Thank you. We can head up to the rooftop right now if you'd like." He lowered his voice, his gray eyes twinkling. "And Rolando Feathers never even has to know about this."

A rush of heat instantly rose to my face, and I tilted my chin at what I thought was a defiant, dignified angle.

"No need to worry about Rolando. We actually just recently broke up."

Truman's amused expression changed to one of mock sympathy, which only made my face heat up more.

He actually even clucked his tongue, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry to hear that. He sounded like quite an extraordinary man."

I snorted, completely unable to help myself. "Oh, now you're just making fun of me. Thanks. So, now, I'm not only a prisoner; I'm a prisoner who's being mocked. Thanks again."

His expression of mock sympathy immediately changed to one a little more sincere.

"I'm sorry, Brette. I know you've been through an awful lot, and that wasn't very nice of me to tease. Will you still have brunch with me if I promise never to tease about Rolando ever again? And if I do, you can lock me in here with no food and no water, and make me write thousands of sentences, all saying the same thing: 'It is not nice to tease, especially young women as sweet and beautiful as Brette Morgan.'"

I fought a smile, yet another rush of heat rising to my face, though this one not from embarrassment. "I'll still have brunch with you. And...." Giving my head a little shake, I sighed. "I'm not saying you can
never
say anything about Rolando Feathers ever again, because...." I sighed again. "I guess it
was
kind of funny. But maybe just...not anything else until after I know what's going on and what's happened to me."

Grinning, Truman offered me his arm. "Deal. And a more than fair one. And now, for brunch."

I took his arm, smiling a little but then biting back a gasp when I felt how hard and muscled it was. It was the kind of arm a girl might like to run her hands over. It was the kind of arm a girl might like to feel holding her close.

I covered my stifled gasp, or tried to, anyway, clearing my throat a little. "Let's go."

We took the elevator up just one floor to his penthouse, which was opulent and luxurious on a level I'd never seen in my entire life before. It could have been very accurately described as a mansion at the top floor of a skyscraper. Though even after being given a brief tour, I wasn't quite done being wowed just yet.

Truman led me up a gray marble staircase and then opened a door at the top of it and gestured for me to step through. "Ladies first."

I stepped beyond the doorway and gasped. Loudly. There was no possible way I could have stifled it. What he'd described as a "rooftop garden" was more like a "rooftop paradise." Sunlit fruit trees of all different kinds with swaths of lush, green grass between them stretched as far as I could see. Dozens of stone fountains and pieces of statuary sat between rose bushes with blooms of nearly every color imaginable. Several stone benches flanked a massive garden of other bright flowers that was adjacent to what appeared to be a vegetable garden of equal size. A stone wall maybe about four feet high surrounded the entire top of the building, enclosing every area of the garden. Right in the middle of it all were two chairs and a small table, covered with a white tablecloth. The table was shaded from the sun with a large white umbrella.

After filling my nose with the sweet scent of roses while sunshine warmed my skin, I turned to Truman, who'd joined me out on the roof. "This is just absolutely beautiful. Though beautiful doesn't even begin to describe it. It's gorgeous."

He smiled. "Thank you. I like having my own little corner of heaven. I also like getting my hands in the earth doing a bit of vegetable and fruit farming. Some of the produce goes various places here in the tower, though the bulk of it I donate to needy people here in the city."

My heart went as soft as a rose petal. "That's wonderful."

He gave me a tour of the garden, picking a few flowers for me along the way and then handing them to me when the kitchen staff arrived with our brunch. "A young woman as sweet and as beautiful as you are should have fresh flowers every single day."

I sniffed them, butterflies rioting in my stomach. "Thank you."

When the waiters had finished setting our brunch on the table and had left, we took our seats and began sampling a delicious spread that included eggs, bacon, and powdered sugar-dusted French toast topped with strawberries. To drink, we had champagne mimosas and mugs of the richest, best-tasting coffee I'd ever had in my life.

While we ate, we talked mostly about the garden and the care involved in tending to flowers, vegetables, and fruit trees, which I knew close to nothing about. Though despite the fact that I was very interested in learning more, several times during our meal, I found myself completely losing my train of thought and having to apologize while in the middle of asking a question. Truman's gorgeous gray eyes and the bit of his hard, muscled chest visible at the top of his open-collared Oxford shirt were mostly to blame for this.

Maybe the third time I'd lost my train of thought, Truman smiled and said it was okay. "We can change the subject now if you'd like. Because I'd like to learn more about
you
. Why don't you start by telling me a bit about your family and hobbies."

I set my coffee cup down and took a deep breath. "Well, as far as family, there's not much to say. I lost my parents, both to freak accidents, several years ago, and then I lost my two remaining grandparents not too long after that. Then, my best friend, who I always considered family, passed away after a battle with cancer about a year ago. It was just a really horrendous several years for me. Years that I'm so glad are over and behind me. So, now, the only family I have left is a cousin and an aunt upstate. Not that I'm very close to them, though. I think the last time we had any contact at all was a phone call around Christmas two years ago."

I paused, noticing that Truman's dark brows were angling upward toward the center in an expression of pain and sympathy. And when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"I'm so sorry for all your losses. I can't even imagine what you've been through."

With my eyes suddenly a little misty, I nodded. "Thank you." Wanting to change the subject before I broke down and sobbed, I took a sip of my coffee and cleared my throat.

"But, anyway, as far as hobbies, I've always loved to draw and paint. I do it as much as possible in my spare time, which is never enough. I even went to art school for a year in the hopes of painting professionally someday, but school turned out to be too expensive, and I started working at the bank, and that was that. I still dream about painting full-time someday, though." I gave him a little smile. "Someday in a future where bills don't exist and rent never has to be paid."

He asked me a few questions about what kind of things I liked to paint and draw, and what kind of techniques I liked to use, and by the time I'd finished answering, we'd both finished eating, and I was getting a little anxious for some answers about what had happened to me the previous day. And Truman seemed to pick up on this.

After a lull in the conversation, he took a deep breath. "I've really enjoyed our brunch. Though I'm sure you're anxious to hear my theory about what happened to you yesterday. You've been more than patient. And now...I'm sure it's time for some explanations."

CHAPTER THREE

I leaned forward in my chair a bit, my gaze on Truman, who sat across the table from me. "Yes. Please. Tell me what happened to me yesterday. I need to know."

It was a sunny, warm August day, and all around us, birds and butterflies flitted and twirled around all the different fruit trees and flowers in Truman's rooftop garden paradise. Though I hardly even noticed. I was far too intent on finding out how I'd gone from my job at the bank to the ground floor of Stone Tower the previous day, seemingly in the blink of an eye.

With his dark brows drawing together, Truman took a final sip of his coffee and set the mug on the table. "I'll tell you exactly what I think happened to you yesterday, and it's a theory that my advisers and my staff scientist think is most likely as well. But first, I think I should tell you exactly where you are. What city you're in."

Confused, I looked around. Even over the stone walls surrounding the enormous rooftop garden, I could still see the tops of other skyscrapers I recognized, as well as bits of skyline I'd been familiar with all my life.

"But...I already know I'm still in New York City. I saw the Chrysler building and the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty on my way up in the elevator yesterday. Even right now, I can see other buildings I recognize. So, I know I'm still in New York City."

Truman took a deep breath, frowning. "Right. But it's not a New York City you've likely ever been to, before yesterday."

"What do you mean?"

I couldn't even imagine what he meant. And when he spoke next, I still kind of couldn't.

"To you, from where you've come from, this isn't
your
New York City. This is a parallel New York City."

I didn't respond right away. "What?"

"This is a parallel. To me, and to everyone else who lives here, this is
our
New York City. To us, this is the
real
one, the 'normal' one. And to us,
your
New York City is just one of the parallels. One of maybe billions. Trillions, even. Probably a literally infinite number."

"But...how? I'm really, really not understanding this."

That was an understatement.

Confusing me even further, Truman asked me if I was familiar with a philosophical concept called the Theory of Eternal Return.

I moved my head in a slight nod. "Yes. I mean...fairly familiar. When I was in art school, I had to take some general education classes as well, one of them being a philosophy class. And I remember the professor explaining that particular theory. He said that due to certain laws of physics, some scientists and philosophers believe that there are an infinite number of galaxies and worlds, with some of the worlds being nearly identical to our own. I remember my professor saying that in theory, there could possibly be billions or trillions of worlds pretty much exactly like ours, with New York Cities almost exactly like our...." I stopped talking briefly, getting a sudden chill. "Own."

Gooseflesh covered my arms, despite the sunny August day becoming even warmer. And when I spoke again, my voice came out in a near-whisper.

"So...so, it's true, then? The physicists and philosophers were right? Parallel worlds do exist? And...and I'm in one right now? I'm not in
my
New York City anymore?"

Truman nodded, his eyes seeming to express compassion for my shock. "Yes to all."

I looked out at the buildings and skyline again. "But, everything...it just looks so, so similar to
my
New York City."

"Most of it is. From what I know about
your
New York City, I'd say maybe ninety percent of it is the same, just totally hazarding a guess. Maybe a
few
buildings are different. Maybe a
few
street names are changed. But there
is
one thing about this New York City that is radically different from your own."

"What is it?"

Truman took a deep breath, his expression serious. "This New York City, this whole country, in fact, is run by creatures called dragon shifters. Creatures who are men, but at the same time, can also shape-shift into dragons. And the head dragon shifter ruler...is me. I'm lord of all shifters, human citizens, and this entire nation, which unlike your world, is no longer even The United States of America. This nation is now called the CDRS, or, the Confederation of Dragon-Ruled States."

I suddenly realized that there were no American flags atop any of the buildings in the distance, something that simply hadn't registered before. Now when I looked, I immediately spotted what appeared to be flags similar to the one I'd seen in Truman's throne room, which had been an all-black flag with a dark gray dragon in the center.

I stared at him, miles beyond stunned. "So, you're...you're a dragon shifter? And you...you rule this whole country? But how? I mean, how did this all happen?"

"Well, up until about World War Two,
this
New York, and
this
country, followed a pretty similar path as your own. But butterfly effects and little ripples and twists of fate can sometimes have profound effects, and in this nation, this led to America and the allies nearly losing World War Two. But before the war could be lost, a secret society of men stepped in and helped win the war, and these men were led by my great-grandfather, who was one of the first dragon shifters. Who, by the way, came into being via a rare genetic mutation, though that's probably a story for another day. But, anyway, after the war was won, all was still not well. Americans were displeased with the government for many different reasons, and after a government overthrow, where President Truman, who I'm named after, was deposed, absolute chaos and civil war ensued. Citizens begged for the dragon shifters to step in and restore order, which we did. And then, considering the state of the nation, the people decided that they wanted a new government and strong, decisive leadership, led by an absolute monarchy. So, that's what happened. My great-grandfather, Alexander Stone, became the first dragon lord, who ruled over the nation from this building, Stone Tower, right here in New York City. Which is still called New York City, by the way. And the rest, as they say, is history. After my great-grandfather's death, my grandfather became monarch, and then my father, and then me. And although everything certainly isn't perfect...like any nation, we have our occasional struggles and threats...with most of the threats from other dragon shifters who'd like to knock me from the throne...the nation has enjoyed peace and prosperity ever since the monarchy was first established."

I didn't know how to respond. I didn't know what I
should
respond. I felt like my mind was working slowly, yet at the same time computing at warp speed, just trying to process everything.

But eventually, I found my voice. "So...how did I stumble into this parallel world? How did I stumble into this New York City...this whole nation...that's run by a dragon shifter monarchy?"

Truman knitted his dark brows together. "Well, my scientist, my top men, my advisers, and I aren't entirely one hundred percent positive. Although, we have a theory, and we're fairly certain that our theory is correct. And after doing some more calculations and tests, my scientist, who's the most brilliant physicist and man of science in the nation, thinks he should be able to confirm our theory beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"So, what's the theory?"

            "Well, boiling it down to its essence, the best we can figure is that my right-hand man, Lieutenant Owen Stevens, Brianna's husband, seems to have accidentally created some sort of very temporary 'tear' as it were, between our two parallels. He has special supernatural gifts, such as very occasionally being able to pick up on thoughts of other dragon shifters in other parallels, and he's the only one of us dragon shifters able to travel between parallels, though even he's not able to do this without extreme difficulty."

"Wait. There are dragon shifters in other parallels? Does that include
mine
?
My
New York City?"

"Yes. And that was precisely the reason Owen traveled to
your
parallel the other day. He was on a bit of a spying mission after having picked up some disturbing thoughts of the leader of the dragon shifters in
your
New York. This leader's name is Dominic, and it seems that he also has a bit of psychic ability, and he's been able to intuit some things about our parallel and our nation ruled by dragon shifters. And to him, this seems awfully enticing, considering that in
your
New York, he and the shifters in his group must remain a secret from regular humans, lest they be captured and studied by scientists. And so, as Owen has been able to perceive, Dominic has plans to travel through the parallel with some of his men and take the crown from me by force. But, as Owen reported when he returned from his spying mission last night, Dominic has just one problem. He and his men haven't quite been able to cross the parallel yet. They're not as supernaturally gifted as Owen is. Fortunately for us. Because the last thing I want is for them to come here. If they tried to attack me at the tower, here, in an attempt to overthrow me, of course my men and I would have to battle them and kill them. Which I'd like to avoid, as killing isn't fun for me, and it isn't a sport. I do it only when my nation's security requires it."

I moved my head in the slightest of nods, still just trying to wrap my mind around everything.

Truman paused, sitting back in his chair, and took a deep breath. "But back to how you got here, Brette. So, like I said, we think that when he crossed parallels to
your
New York City, Owen unintentionally created some sort of 'tear' between the two worlds. And then, somehow, perhaps just by sheer coincidence of you standing exactly where you were standing at the time, you somehow 'fell' through the 'tear.' My scientist thinks it could even have something to do with the numbers you said you were saying out loud to open the bank vault at the time this all happened. Which, by the way, did those numbers happen to be
thirty-six
,
thirty-three
,
thirteen
, and
eleven
?"

I nodded, incredulous. "Yes. That was the code exactly. But how did you even know that?"

"Well, I'm personally a little hazy on the details, but my scientist determined that those would have almost had to have been the numbers that you spoke aloud right before you passed through the parallel. It has a lot to do with Owen's and your physical coordinates at the time, and physics, and even a little to do with the supernatural, but he thinks uttering those numbers may have even been what 'pushed' you through the 'tear.'"

I sat back in my chair, speechless.

With his expression one of concern, Truman asked if I was feeling all right. "You look a little pale."

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine, really. Well, maybe a little shocked and dumbfounded. Though maybe not as much as most people might be. I've always kind of believed that there's more to our universe than humans can possibly know, and I guess all this is just confirmation of that. And it's not even the parallels or the parallel-traveling that I'm even the most hung up about maybe. It's just...." I let my breath out in a rush, looking at Truman's impossibly handsome, square-jawed face. "So, you're really a dragon shifter? As in, you can shift into a dragon and fly around in the sky and breathe fire?"

His dark gray eyes twinkled.

"Yes."

"So, how many of you are there? How many in this parallel, and in mine?"

"Several dozen in this parallel now, though we started with only seven. But our numbers have grown, because shifters are able to mate with human women, and about half the time when a baby boy is born, he'll turn out to be a shifter himself. And why there are no female shifters ever born is just one of the mysteries of the genetic mutation. However, in
your
New York City, the dragon shifters there do count two female dragon shifters among their ranks of about two dozen total shifters, of that we're sure. Owen has been able to find that out via his psychic abilities and his very occasional spying missions. Which is why you were thought to be a spy yourself when you first arrived here. Several weeks ago, Owen was able to perceive that the shifters in
your
New York were considering sending one of their two females as spies, if they can ever figure out how to cross parallels. But when he returned last night, I described you to Owen, and he said you bear no resemblance to either of the two female shifters, who are both extremely tall and blond, possibly twins."