Chapter Seven
Vitki knew he could be executed for giving away secrets not yet told, but the despair radiating off of Ivo said thatnotdoing so would be detrimental to the man’s mental health. Ivo had reached the last of his endurance for bullshit.
“I’m sorry,” Ivo said as he turned from the window. “Did you saydragon?”
“I did.” Vitki clasped his hands tightly to keep from reaching for the man. Ivo looked as if he were mere minutes away from shattering into a million pieces. “The Vítkovský Clan has been able to shift to and from dragon shape since before time began.”
The longer Ivo stared at him, the narrower his eyes became. Vitki was starting to wonder if telling Ivo had been the right thing to do. The man no longer gave off waves of despair, but now he was pissed. Vitki could practically feel the hairs on his arms getting singed.
When Ivo stormed past him, Vitki wasn’t surprised. Hewassurprised when the man made a beeline for the large walk-in closet Max had insisted be built for his wife all of those years ago. Curious what Ivo was up to when he heard something slam against the wall, Vitki followed Ivo.
“What are you doing?” The place looked as if a hurricane had hit it. Ivo was yanking drawers open and opening cabinets. He was obviously looking for something.
Vitki raised his brows when he heard Ivo let out a growl. It was actually a pretty good one. He just never expected to hear a sound like that come out of the man, at least not until he accepted who he was. “Ivo, what are you looking for?”
“My clothes.”
His clothes?
“Why would you need yo—”Fuck!“Ivo, you can’t leave, not yet.”
Ivo’s face was a mask of pure rage when he glanced at Vitki. “Watch me.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“And?” Ivo went back to searching for his clothes.
“Have you forgotten that someone is trying to kill you?” Vitki sure hadn’t.
“People didn’t start trying to kill me until I came to Prague. Maybe if I leave, they’ll leave me alone.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Ivo.” Vitki wished it did. He’d take Ivo and run.
Ivo must have found what he was looking for, because he stopped yanking drawers open and began stripping his shirt off. The sight of all that toned and tanned skin was playing hell with Vitki’s restraint.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m changing my clothes,” Ivo replied as he pulled his shirt off over his head. “What does it look like.”
Vitki swallowed tightly as Ivo went for the waistband of his pajama bottoms. If those pants came off, Vitki seriously doubted he would be able to control himself. He’d give in to thelonging, and to hell with the rules.
“Ivo, stop.”
When the man ignored him, Vitki rushed forward and grabbed his wrists. “You need to stop.”
Ivo had no idea how much he needed to stop.
“Let. Me. Go.”
“Ivo—”
“Am I really the rightful heir to the throne of the Vítkovský Clan?”
Vitki squinted at Ivo, wondering where he was going with this. “Yes.”
“Then you work for me, don’t you?”
“I am Dýka…the dagger that seeks vengeance, the right hand of the king.”
