“Oh.” We both reach for the air conditioning at the same time, and her hand brushes mine. She grabs my forearm, then moves her palm to my forehead. “You’re burning up. And God, your eyes are…”
I blink and start going over first-quarter sales figures in my head. Gently, I remove her hand from my head. “I’m fine, really. Thanks, though.” Shit. My voice is a rusted-out scrap heap, all rough grit. I start the car and pull into traffic.
Her hand is still hovering between us, her ruby lips parted. She blinks and reaches for her seat belt. “Is that a dragon thing?”
“Is what a dragon thing?”
“When you touch me, it’s like…”
I raise an eyebrow. I know exactly what it’s like… for me. Like someone just plugged me in. But I’m curious what it feels like to her. “Like what?”
“Hot.” A cherry blush creeps up her neck to her ears, and her eyes widen. “I mean, like really warm and tingly and like?—”
“Maybe it’s just a man and woman thing,” I say, flashing a seductive smile. “I can’t help it if you find me hot.”
“I didn’t mean?—”
I break the tension building in the cab with a laugh. “I’m fucking with you, Zoe. Dragons run hotter than the general population. That’s what you’re feeling.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she leans back in her seat and seems to relax a bit. “So, where are you taking me? You mentioned a cabin with a studio.”
I nod. “A private property in the San Gabriel mountains.”
“How far?”
“A couple hours.”
“Goddess.”
“It’s important, Zoe.”
“You keep saying that, but you can’t tell me more?—”
“Until we get there,” I finish for her.
She looks out the window and grows quiet. A half hour later, she’s asleep.
“Zoe, we’re here.” I shake her shoulder gently. A line of spit trails from the corner of her lip to her shoulder. Before I can think not to, I reach out and wipe it away with my thumb. That’s when her eyes open, and she stares right into mine. With my hand gently cupping her cheek and my thumb stained with her red lipstick, I try to speak but can’t think of a single thing to say. Her lips part, and nothing comes out of her mouth either.
I clear my throat and draw back to my side of the car. “We’re here. You, uh, fell asleep.”
Before I do something I’ll regret, I hop out of the truck and reach behind the seats for her bag. The sun is setting, and it casts a glorious pink and blue backdrop across the mountains. It’s stunning, but all I care about is the eight-foot security wall that surrounds the property, the cameras that never stop running, and the armed guards who staff the security hut at the front gate.
“This is what you call a cottage?”
I round the truck to find Zoe staring at the house. I guess it’s true that if she was expecting a rustic cabin, she might be disappointed. This place is an architectural marvel of glass and steel, designed by renowned architect Benjamin Foster to reflect and blend with the natural beauty around it.
“You don’t like it?” I ask her.
She turns to me. “Of course I like it. Did you not just see the pit I was living in?” She points vaguely in a direction that isn’t even close to the way we came from her old apartment. “It’s just, I wasn’t expecting the place to be quite so large or so…”
“Pretentious?” I fill in with a wince, trying to see it through her eyes.
She starts, “No! It’s not pretentious, it’s… It’s…a work of art. A blending of livable space, architectural strength, and natural beauty.”
My heart pounds. I love that she appreciates it. “Wait until you see inside.” I take her hand, lead her up the steps, and through the front door that Patrick holds open for us. He bows when we enter. “Sir, there are several messages from?—”
“I’ll take care of it,” I say. I’ve purposely been ignoring calls from the brotherhood. I’ve got no good news to share with them, and I’m not ready to hear the bad news yet.
