“Ready for that tour now?”
“Beyond.”
12
EVANDER
I’m shocked as I usher her out of the office, my hand on the lower portion of her back. I can’t help but touch her, ceremony or not. We’ve never had a candidate read the entire document. Not even the one who said she was a lawyer.
My dragon’s rumbling under my skin. Yes, I think Raine is an attractive woman and there are a lot of things I’d like to do with her. But I’m walking her to our vault. Not really our vault, though. We moved a small portion of things to another series of rooms. There was no reason to believe she was the one. We’ve had lots of candidates, all from reputable seers, ones who have scored hundreds of matches and have a high success rate. But high success rates don’t mean guaranteed success. As our large group of unsuccessful candidates proves. So no, we’re not giving her complete access to our hoard.
Also, our hoard is a fucking mess. Roark likes to sleep on top of it sometimes. Sure, we keep the paintings in plywoodboxes and out of the way of our dragons’ tails. I think our dragons are great, but I’m one hundred percent sure that Miss Fischer doesn’t want to roll around in dragon spittle after Roark sleeps down there. So we’ve moved a bit of it to the southern tower, a tower conveniently called “the vault.” And she’ll have complete access to that space. Even if she’s not our mate, this whole thing is going to be really useful.
“It’s a long walk,” I warn. “Those are comfortable shoes?”
“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Slate. I can handle a lot.”
Fuck if my cock isn’t hard from just that. Now I have to watch her ass all the way to the tower. Past the dining room and down the south wing, her shoes click on the stone floor until we round the corner in the connector wing and the polished hardwood dampens the echo. She gives a bright “hello” to each staff member we pass. It takes ten minutes because she stops to look at wooden carvings and asks questions about the castle.
“The carvings here are detailed in a way that’s different from the section of house where the bedrooms are. Is this section older?”
“I believe so, yes.”
She stops and stares at the carvings on a door to the valet’s area. It’s fun, and honestly, there are quite a few questions I don’t know the answers to. Which is impressive because I’ve lived here for a long time. Kieren’s been coming here since he was a dragonet, and I don’t think he even knows the answers to some of her questions.
I take her up a flight. The second floor in this wing doesn’t connect to the main building, as the atrium is in the way. You have to go up to the fourth or down to the first to get over here. “The vault is this entire floor. And I have to admit you have your work cut out for you. Everything’sreally up to you. Kieren—Mr. Alder—says it’s up to you.” I stand with my hand on the door.
She takes a step back. “There’s no lock?”
“You don’t steal from a dragon.” I flick my eyes to her hair piled on her head. It’s the first time I’ve said it, only free to now that she’s signed the NDA. I watch her with intent interest. Her pulse doesn’t quicken, and her eyes don’t dilate. Miss Fischer had already figured it out on her own.
“I image that’s not a good idea. I have no interest in being roasted and barbecued.”
I burst out with a laugh. “You have no worries about being eaten. My dragon likes things spicy.”
Her cheeks pink up, and there’s a growl in my gut from my dragon. He’s urging me to eat her in a different way. My hand lingers on the handle longer than necessary. I like drawing out the tension.
She’s vibrating with excitement. “Well, are you going to open it?”
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Yes!”
A deep laugh erupts from me, and I pull the door open and hold it for her. I’m honestly a little excited to see her reaction. She steps in and her jaw drops. I haven’t been in here for a week, not since Kieren and I picked out most of what to move. He had staff do it, but with his instructions to make it as organic as possible. And they succeeded, if organic is the layers of rubble on Roark’s academy dorm room floor. They have followed Kieren’s orders perfectly.
“Whoa.”
It’s a jumble of clutter that makes the neat freak in me want to start pushing things around. Or run from the room as soon as possible. “I know, I know—it’s a lot. But with time, you’ll be able to make sense of it.”
“What?” She’s crossed the massive space—a former banquet hall back from when the castle was built—dodging around a large stack of boxes. “No, uh, right, it’s going to be a lot of work. It’s just that this Vermeer from 1665 next to this Elena de Ravello... You can see how she was influenced by Vermeer. The soft focus of the light. It’s intimacy, even the tilt of the subject’s head. So crazy. You’d never see something like these two together in a museum.”
“Oh, right, of course.”
“You can’t see it at all, can you? I get overwhelmed in museums.”
“No, not in the least bit. That’s the first thing that caught your eye?”
Now she’s the one laughing. “It’s amazing. Unbelievable. All of this art in one place. Thrown together without order. It’s lovely.”
