“Over three hundred now.”
“To be loved like that.” Harriet laughed, her eyes flicking toward the ceiling as if the idea was enviable.
“Don’t say that. When dragons mate, they mate for life. Their immortal life. Not the other person’s. When Alexander’s mate died, he lost half of himself. His mind couldn’t handle it. His mate, Maiara, has been dead and buried for hundreds of years and he’s still obsessed. It’s a fate worse than death. I plan to avoid it like the plague.”
Harriet raised a sculpted eyebrow. “With your love life, you have nothing to worry about.”
Rowan feigned offense. “Says the woman who hasn’t been laid since Eisenhower was President.”
Harriet pursed her lips to suppress a smile. “You don’t know everything about me.”
Studying the painting, Rowan said, “Is it just me or are the colors getting darker?”
“It’s not just you. I compared this to pictures of the ones we’ve sold. Not only are the colors darker, he’s aging the native woman. It’s subtle, but I can see it. She’s fading.”
“What do you think it means?”
Harriet rubbed her knuckle along her jaw. “It means your brother has lost his marbles.”
Rowan snorted. “Yes. A long time ago.” Tears burned along her eyelids. He was getting worse, and there was absolutely nothing Rowan could do about it. She taped the paper back into place, covering the painting.
“I better go.”
“Should I call Djorji?”
“Yeah, but tell him to pick me up at Friedman’s. I’m starving. Going to have a late breakfast.”
Harriet kissed her on both cheeks, then picked up her phone to call her driver. Rowan’s stomach growled. She strode out the door and walked the few blocks to Friedman’s, relieved to see there was a spot open at the counter. She ordered a coffee and blueberry pancakes before calling the last phone number she had for Tobias.
We’re sorry, the number you have reached has been disconnected.
She’d expected as much. No one used a landline anymore. She hung up and called his work number. “Can I speak with Dr. Tobias Winthrop please?” she asked the woman who answered. “He’s in pediatric cardiology.”
There was a moment of instrumental music and then a voice response unit answered. “You’ve reached the office of Dr. Elizabeth Allen. Press One for the appointment desk.”
She tapped the button. Another woman answered. “I’m looking for Tobias Winthrop,” Rowan said.
“Dr. Winthrop closed his practice a few weeks ago. Dr. Allen is taking his patients. Can I make an appointment for you?”
“I really need to reach Dr. Winthrop. Did he leave a forwarding number or address?”
There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, ma’am. No, he did not. As far as I know, he isn’t practicing anymore.”
“Thank you.” Rowan hung up and tapped the phone against her forehead. Tobias would never find her. The box Harriet had given him was meant to let him know she was okay, but there was nothing in it that would give away her location. And it appeared he’d gone underground as well, likely recycling his identity just like she had. She sighed. Whatever reason he and Gabriel had for trying to reach her would have to stay a mystery.
She pulled up the latest book she was reading on her phone while she waited for breakfast. It was a romance about a vampire who falls in love with a human. Silly stuff. Immortals and humans didn’t mix. It never ended well. But she couldn’t put the thing down.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Rowan turned her head to find an NYPD badge in front of her face and a man staring at her from a considerable height. Her stomach did a strange little flip. Detective Nick Grandstaff’s steely gaze burned into her with the intensity of a thousand blazing suns. She white-knuckled the edge of the counter. It wasn’t the badge that sent a wave of shock with an anxiety chaser through her chest. It was Harriet’s warning. What if his strong mind resisted the serum?
Admit nothing.“Can I help you?” she asked through a tight throat.
“Did you notice a man in here earlier, about five foot six inches tall, white-blond hair, slight build?”
“No.” It was hard to speak. Her tongue had swollen in her mouth and grown uncomfortably dry. The light from the window shone directly on his face, turning his eyes the color of sterling silver. Pale, heavenly eyes that stole her breath. And his scent, it hit her as it had the night before, in through her nose and straight to her crotch. She uncrossed and crossed her legs against the building tension between her thighs and forced herself to blink. She ended up fluttering her eyelashes.Fuck, she had, hadn’t she? She’d fluttered her eyelashes at the detective like a draconic Betty Boop.
“Okay. Thanks.” He continued watch her, his eyes narrowing. “Have we met before? You seem familiar.”
