Chapter Seventeen
Jean stomped into the room,her glare instantly aimed at Amy, even as she crossed the room to where I was sitting in the chair. Amy was in a chair to my left, Myra on the couch to his left, and Bathin loomed like stage security at a rock show.
The dragon pig in her arms puffed smoke out of its nostrils. It was still a little pig, still cute, but it was not playing it up.
No, this was serious dragon. This was the dragon who could tell I was angry, and yes, a little frightened. This was protector dragon, maybe even destruction dragon.
“Hey,” I said to it as Jean handed it over to me. I held it up so we were eye level. Fire blazed in those adorable black eyes. “I’m okay right now, but this isn’t going to be a long-term situation. I need you to make sure this demon is never outside our reach. And if you’re a good dragon, you might get to eat him.”
The dragon growled. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Amy go very, very still.
I turned the dragon in my arms so it could get a good look at its future meal.
Amy’s shoulders were pulled back, but at an angle, as if he were prepared to jump out of that chair and fight for his life, if necessary.
Good. He should be worried. He had picked the wrong damn person to try to overthrow.
Jean stood right in front of me, her back to the demon. “Are you really all right?”
“I am. I want to hear his demands or plans or whatever. I’ve got the dragon. So I’m good.”
“I called Ryder,” Jean said.
Ryder. The date. The reservations. I had forgotten all about it.
That hit me harder than I expected. I was right here, going through another possible life and death situation involving a demon and my soul, and I hadn’t once thought about calling Ryder.
What did it say about me if my boyfriend, the man I loved, was the last thing on my mind when my life was going to hell?
“Good,” I croaked out through a suddenly dry throat. “That’s super good.”
Jean squeezed my shoulder and gave the pig a pat. “You keep her safe. If he tries to harm her in any way, you have my permission to chomp him to mush.”
“Jean.”
“Eat him in small bites so he feels it longer.”
I shook my head and made wide eyes at her. “Not necessary.”
She turned to Amy, then marched right up in front of him. “Fuck you.” She kicked him in the shins. Hard.
It was the stress, the sudden break in that boiling, building pressure in my chest. It all came out in a laugh, a gasp, and it was like I could breathe again. I could think again.
For his part, Amy’s face went a little greenish, his eyebrows knitted, and his hands clenched the chair handles hard enough to make them creak. That had hurt. She liked to wear steel-toed boots, and the girl knew how to kick.
“You must be Jean,” he said, his voice a little thready.
“Just in case you think this is going to be some kind of cakewalk, you asshole, I want you to get this real clear. You are screwing around with the wrong place and the wrong family. We will crush you and blow the dust of your bones off our palms.”
She turned again, not giving one damn that her back was to him again, and threw a glare at Bathin. “You a part of this, hot stuff?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Myra, I say we give them two minutes, then come back in here and lock this down.”
Myra stood, glanced between Amy, the dragon, and me. “Good?”
“Don’t let her kick a hole in my house, okay?”
