“Ask away,” he said.
She watched him warily, her expression tight, as though she was weighing up the cost of taking up his offer. At last she inhaled sharply and said, “We’ve been out here for almost half an hour. You’re wearing the same clothes you shifted out of.”
“Is there a question somewhere that I’m missing?”
“That sleeve is almost ripped off.” She pointed, then swept her accusing finger down to his chest. “Your shirt has no buttons, and is torn. Your pants—”
Her cheeks darkened.
“What about my pants?” he asked solicitously, and she narrowed her eyes.
“They’re …disintegrating.Your shoes are entirely absent. As for your under—yoursocks,” she corrected herself, and ‘darkened’ was no longer an accurate description of her cheeks. ‘Thermonuclear,’ perhaps. “I don’t even know where they ended up. Do you? Are my neighbors going to find gold-thread-imbued … socks … washing up in front of their houses with the next tide?”
“You know I have gold woven into my clothes?”
“Apollo told me. And suddenly I realized why all your laundry needed such particular dry-cleaning. And why your jackets were always soheavy. So—should I expect Tomás to jump into the sea after scraps of gold-woven socks? Is that what my future holds?”
“No.” He hesitated, and then continued. “Any clothing directly next to my skin suffers the most when I shift. There wouldn’t be enough left of my underwear or socks to bother anyone, even if they did have gold woven into them. I save that for my shirts and suits.”
Though he maintained hope that the disintegrating nature of his pants would continue to bother Miss Flores. The moment he’d saidunderwear,her blush had heated to crisis point.
He waited for his dragon to warn him that he was in danger, but it was as in favor of this ill-considered tactic as he was. He wasn’t thinking of claiming her; only teasing her. A little.
The duskfire was still dormant. Under this brilliant morning sun, it was almost possible to believe it couldn’t harm anyone.
He leaned to one side, pretending to reach for the bottle of not-wine and coincidentally letting his shirt fall further, buttonlessly open. “Was that your only question?”
“And you’re … all right with that? I’m not going to hear a sudden splashing, and turn around to see you’ve summoned an assistant to bring you a new change of clothes.”
He watched her dark eyes flick to his chest and flood a deeper black. “No. I’m perfectly content as I am.”
“Wearing rags?” Her eyebrows shot up, but her eyes didn’t move from his. If he let himself, he could think she was as trapped in his gaze as he was in hers. “It’s like I don’t even know you.”
“I put a great deal of effort into ensuring you never found out a lot of things about me.”
Her lips parted. “Yes.” She hesitated, and added in an undertone, “You’re not the only one.”
She looked down at her tumbler, twirled it between her fingers, and then looked up again. Her eyes found his. They were shining somewhat less, now. “There was something else…”
She’d seen through him. His ruse about only being here to deal with his stolen treasure. His need for more than just the physical. Of course she had. This wasMaya.His brilliant, sharp Maya.
No. Nothis.
“Go on,” he said.
“Right.” She looked down, fists bunching in her lap.
A warning bell sounded in his head. This wasn’t the behavior of a woman about to throw herself at her mate.
She took a deep breath, and he steeled himself. Whatever judgement or accusations she had for him, he would accept with as much dignity as he could conjure.
“What age do dragon shifters normally first shift into dragon form? Is there any danger if he’s started shifting too early, or spends too long in one form or another? Should I have specific enrichment activities for his dragon side as well as his human side? Is there a medical reason for your obsession with gold? Should I be embroidering gold into Tomás’s clothes, too? What dragon milestones should he be reaching and what can I do if he isn’t hitting them? Sometimes I think he’s growingfeathers? Is that normal? I can’t hear his telepathic speech, so what if that means he doesn’t develop properly because he can’t communicate with me? He eats so much. Is it enough? Does he need other things in his diet? Dragon things?” She gnawed on her lower lip. “Is that what the gold is for? Do you get some sort of … magical vitamins out of it? Is he going to be malnourished because I didn’t give him a hoard? He has my bracelet, but I don’t even know how real that gold is. What if he gets sick? What sort of doctor do you take a dragon child to?”
She broke off with a sharp gasp and covered her mouth. “That—all came out at once. I meant to take it more slowly. I have a list…” She scrambled for her purse and removed a small notebook, which she gripped with white-knuckled fingers. “I’ll start over.”
“No. Don’t.” Her eyes flew to his, and he felt the uncertainty jolting through her as though it was his own heart hammering against his ribs. He raised both hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean it like that. But—you want to talk about Tomás? You’re worried about him?”
“I have to know that I’m doing the right things for him,” she said in a small, strangled voice. “He shouldn’t have to—to grow up missing things just because I’m his mother.”
