Page 84 of Dragon’s Rogue

His eyes darted away from her, though. There was something he didn’t want to tell her.

She asked slowly, “Am I okay? That evil-ass sorcerer isn’t inside me now, is he?”

Thorne still didn’t answer directly. “You’re being protected by the Seal.”

Say what? She stared at him. “I am? You found it?”

He grimaced. “In a manner of speaking. It’s your tattoo.”

“My…” Her hand went reflexively to her back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Thorne shook his head. “I wish I were,” he said. “It reacted to the idol’s influence, or we probably still wouldn’t have realized what it was.”

“I had it the whole time,” she murmured. She rubbed the tattoo, feeling its slightly raised surface. “But… how do we get it from me to the tomb?”

Thorne sighed. “We were hoping you would have some ideas. The tomb integrity is holding steady for the moment, but…”

But that could change at any time. God. Finding the Seal should have been a happy thing, but it seemed like it was just one problem after another.

Bucephalus jumped up onto the couch and stomped across Thorne’s lap, kneading and purring.

Of course. Catlike, he always picked the grumpiest cat-haters to pretend to befriend, reveling in their discomfort.

To her surprise, Thorne stroked him, scratching the cat’s chin absently. “I already gave you half the roast beef out of my sandwich,” he said to Bucephalus. “What more do you want?”

Bucephalus put his front paws on Thorne’s shoulder and thrust his head under Thorne’s chin, still purring. Thorne gave a little huff and rolled his eyes, but he snuggled the cat into the curve of his arm and petted him with the other hand, scratching him behind the ears and making crooning noises.

Blaze realized her mouth was hanging open, and closed it.

Thorne was a cat person. The obsessive, perpetually pissed-off head dragon was showing affection for another living creature. Who’d’ve thunk it.

Wait a minute.

“How did Bucephalus even get here?” she said.

“Zane brought him.” Thorne rubbed the top of Bucephalus’ head, making him purr louder. “Once he was sure you would be okay, when he wasn’t spoon-feeding you or wallowing in guilt, he spent his time fixing your balcony doors and straightening up your workroom and flying half your belongings over here. Clothes, books, music boxes, cats—anything he could think of that you might want.”

He jerked his head over towards the far side of the room. There was a stack of boxes piled in the corner. A very, very large stack. A sudden burst of warmth hit her in the chest and she felt a sting at the back of her eyes at the thought of Zane flying back and forth from her house, carrying her things.

“He didn’t need to do that.”

Thorne sighed. “Did you not hear the part about wallowing in guilt?”

“But why? Because we had a fight?”

“Because he didn’t protect you,” Thorne said. “And, I gather, because the idol’s influence made him try to hurt you?”

Blaze put a hand to her mouth. She vaguely remembered a hard, painful kiss. “I bit him,” she said.

Thorne’s mouth quirked. “Good for you.”

Nice that somebody was happy about it. “But I tried to cast a spell at him, too. And I said awful things.” It was coming back to her now, the hurtful things she’d said to Zane, who’d tried so hard to be good to her. It made her feel sick. “It was both our faults. And the idol’s.”

“He doesn’t see it that way. Apparently, when a Wild Dragon mistreats his mate—no matter what the reason—the guilt is… painful.”

Thorne’s eyes grew distant, and his mouth tightened. He feels guilty for what he did to Rebel when he had treasure fever, she realized. Even though she wasn’t really hurt. The way Zane feels guilty for what he did to me.

Thorne went on, “And with Zane’s history, he feels that more than most.”