Burn him.I stiffened.
The lecture room door opened, and a smartly dressed woman in brown slacks and a beige cardigan descended the stairs. “Good afternoon, Dr. Locke.”
“Afternoon, Dr. Landling,” he responded with a friendly smile and grabbed a leather satchel. “We’ll get out of your way.”
“Thank you,” she said, casting me a prolonged glance, clearly curious about my identity and connection to her colleague.
Taron reached out, his fingertips grazing my elbow. Anunexpected heat curled there like a first delicious flick of flame. We both jerked away.
Ja, he’d meant to lead me, but no dragon would ever yield to a human. And yet… his touch left me so stunned I mutely trailed him.
He shoved open the door, just long enough for me to slip into the hallway, carefully avoiding further touch.
Bulletin boards covered with event flyers stretched down the corridor. People raced this way and that, but his pace did not invite questions from passersby. His office was the second from the last down a narrow hall. His nameplate read: Dr. Taron Locke, Comparative Mythology and Cultural Geography.
He fished a keycard out of his pocket, unlocked his door with a click, and ushered me inside. Well, well. A Locke’s inner sanctum. Something I hadn’t seen after Leopold.
My spine stiffened. Besides Taron’s paper-covered desk, tall bookshelves crammed into every space, the shelves bowing under the weight of academic textbooks and leather-bound tomes. The only window had no blinds, letting the Georgia sunshine stream inside and cast shadows over the two chairs facing his desk. There were no personal photos. No knickknacks to showcase items he cared about.
“Nice cage,” I purred.
He didn’t invite me to sit as he eased behind the desk, gripped the ring hanging from his neck with one hand—and palmed a dagger with the other. The Yrnblade.
“Can we skip to the part where you try to murder me?” I asked, entirely unimpressed. Well, somewhat unimpressed bordering on utterly awed.
“For a bit.” He sheathed the weapon, as if he’d only wished for me to see he had it, then casually leaned back inhis chair and propped his boots on the desk like some smug monarch. All he was missing was a crown and a throne. “I’m guessing the desperation phase of our new bond has finally kickstarted.”
I clicked my tongue. “I’m here for answers. Turns out, the one who wields the blade suffers worse, and I’m curious. Have you sensed anything weird since we parted?”
A twitch at the corner of his eye. Barely perceptible, but having noticed…
“You have,” I breathed out. “What is it? What’s happening to you?”
A knock sounded at the door, and he stiffened. In a blink he was on his feet. “I suggest you leave, majesty. Believe me, I know what to do with a body to ensure it’s never found.”
“So do I, darling,” I said with a humorless smile. “And I bet I do it better than you.”
His silence was answer enough.
Knock, knock. “Taron?”
“Who’s that?” I asked, trying not to care. Trying so hard. “Girlfriend? Lover?”
“Co-worker,” he grumbled. “I’m in the middle of a war. I don’t have time for a girlfriend.” He narrowed his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe he’d just explained himself to me.
Okay. All right. “I’ll leave.” I flicked an imaginary piece of lint from my shoulder. “But only because I’m so sweet. Just know this conversation isn’t finished. I expect you to be in Frankfurt am Main in one week.” My human territory. “If you don’t show, well…” I blew a smoke ring in his direction. “I’ll come back, and we’ll finish our conversation here.”
The ring wafted toward him slowly, deliberately, his annoyance growing stronger the closer it came.
“Trust me when I say you don’t want me coming back.” I winked, turned on my heel, and sauntered out like the queen I was, bypassing a six-something mortal woman. I might be the dragon, and royalty to boot, but I felt the smoldering weight of Taron’s stare all the way home.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure who was hunting whom.
Chapter
Five
Roar once to get their attention. Twice to get results.
