Wait.Wait a hot freakin’ minute…
My sight was laser focused on the dueling dragons, but if there was anything new there, I couldn’t see it in the dim light. “Are you serious?”
Slade shrugged. “One day you’ll find out, Snow. But not today.”
I…Oh, yeah, I was definitely in trouble. Now all I could think about was exploring every mark and tattoo on his body.
When he turned to leave, I wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment that hit the hardest. With one last glance at Kellan, who remained peacefully sleeping—he’d told me his beast only woke him when danger was present, and clearly he trusted his pack brother with his life—I followed the dragon shifter.
His broad back was as much a piece of art as his chest, and I hurried closer to make out the swirls of his dragons’ bodies that continued over his shoulder blades and down either side of his spine.
“Who does your tattoos?” I asked. “How can you handle being touched for so long?”
Slade glanced over his shoulder, and the shadows playing across his features added to his dark-god vibe. “Finley, and when I’m prepared for it, I can handle touch from our pack.”
I ground to a halt, wondering if I’d misheard him. “Finley?” It was a harsh word of disbelief.
He didn’t stop for me, and eventually I had to move again to catch up. “Finley’s an artist? Does he even have any tattoos?”
Kellan didn’t have any; I’d quite thoroughly checked over the past twenty-four hours. While I’d caught glimpses of Finley’s chest once or twice, I’d never seen any obvious tattoos.
“He has a couple,” Slade said. “Which he doesn’t share with many. They’re not for everyone to experience.”
Considering my relationship with Finley, there was no doubt I fell into theeveryonecategory, which didn’t sate my curiosity one bit. And that was a worry. Finley was heartbreak in six-and-a-half feet of growly goodness, and I couldn’t let myself go there. I had to stop desperately clawing at brief snippets of a connection amongst the carnage of our interactions.
He wasn’t for me.
Slade took the stairs to the third floor, and when he opened the door to his room and entered, leaving me standing on the threshold, I tried not to freak out. Hesitating, I explicitly waited for his invitation, my focus locked on him as he strode toward a bank of computers.
At least six large screens filled a wall in the corner near his windows, which were covered in a heavy curtain of dark-gray material. The desk was clearly custom built to handle all the technology, and fit the expanse of Slade’s room, which was at least four times the size of mine. Despite the vast square meterage, the room itself was sparsely furnished, with a massive bed dressed in gray and white bedding—again, twice the size of my king bed—some shelves with books, a few small plants, and a dresser.
A quick glance didn’t reveal any photos or personal effects, and once again, I had no idea who Slade was from this room.
“Come in, Emmeline,” Slade called impatiently, already seated in front of a screen.
I lifted an eyebrow as he shot a hard stare over his shoulder. “Listen here, Scary Shifter,” I said, stepping onto the same soft carpet of my room, “you’re the one who has everyone pissing themselves when it comes to you. I was warned no less than seventy billion times to never step into your dominion without your express permission.”
His eyes burned into me as I hurried toward him, like his room was boobytrapped and a randomly swinging blade wasabout to cut me in half. “Good,” he said, a smirk tipping up the corner of his lips.
Good…?Yeah, he more than enjoyed the fear slash respect he commanded in the city, and having met his dragon, I completely understood its origins.
When he returned his focus to the monitor, I was able to breathe more freely. The intensity of his unwavering stare was too much.
“Closer, Emme,” he commanded, and I jerked out of my trance and stepped forward until I felt the heat he exuded. “I’ve been tracing back through the years, and I found an odd image.”
I snapped to attention as I was reminded of the reason he’d gotten me out of bed at the crack of three a.m.
His fingers moved over the keyboard so quickly that whatever he typed into the screen blurred. Not that I could have remotely kept up, even if he didn’t type as fast as a bolt of lightning.
From what I saw, it was computer gibberish—what did they call it… code? Along with other boxes within boxes that had security footage and webpages. Everything moved around his screen until it all stopped on one grainy image of a man. “Do you ever remember seeing this shifter before?”
Leaning forward, I was careful not to touch Slade as I stared at an unfamiliar face. Along with the graininess, it was also in black and white and clearly old footage. Slade pointed toward the date printed in a neon orange on the bottom right side. The image had been taken almost twenty-six years ago on… “That’s the day I was born,” I said softly.
The quality was so bad that I really couldn’t make out the finer details, but I felt no jolt of familiarity as I examined the nondescript face. I’d have guessed he was a shifter, just from the way he stood and his general broad, muscled build. His hairappeared to be blond or light in the image, and there was no way to determine eye color.
He appeared to be a normal male shifter; nothing stood out at all.
“Yes,” Slade confirmed. “He was there the day you were born. This is where your mom gave birth.” He clicked a few more buttons; the image expanded to reveal a small shack in the background. “Just outside of Georgia. This shifter was there, and then two days later…”
