Page 22 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

Trish suddenly wondered what had happened to his body, after Kira had nixed the ‘head on a pike’ thing.

“Please don’t tell me his ghost is lurking around in the castle.”

Emon’s eyes grew flat and hard. “Only in my head,” he said. “And Mayah’s.”

Fuck. “Sorry,” she said softly.

He gave a faint one-shouldered shrug, as if it didn’t matter, but she knew it did.

Emon went on, “This is—was—his study. Where he kept all the research no one needs to know about. I still keep it here because he was an evil motherfucker, and even though this shit shouldn’t be out in the world, some of it might be useful someday against other evil motherfuckers. This room is off-limits to everyone except me, and nothing comes out of here without my permission. It’s supposed to be locked by magic. So how the hell did you get in?”

He ran his hands through his hair, obviously upset. Now that Trish knew what was in this room, she didn’t blame him.

Who the hell wanted Ragnor’s research this badly? And who could have gotten past the magical protections?

Trish said, “It was open when I got here. I could hear someone searching when I came up the hidden stairs, but they ran out this door.”

Emon gazed into the distance, narrowing his eyes. “Did you scent anyone?”

She frowned. “No. Which is weird, because I’m sure it was a real person. They left a trail in the dust.” She pointed.

“What about now? Can you catch any residual scent?”

She shook her head. She could smell Emon just fine, but there were no other fresh scents in the room.

He said, “What about your wolf? If you Change, could you scent anything?”

“No.” It came out a whisper. She couldn’t Change. Just the word had caught She-Wolf’s attention, and now she was clawing at Trish’s insides, wanting to get to Emon. Bite him. Kill him. He will destroy us.

Trish closed her eyes. Shut up. Shut up.

“Are you okay?” Emon put his hand on her arm.

She-Wolf went totally still, the way she had when watching him fly the storm. The silence inside Trish was stunning.

She took a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. Then she slowly reached out and put her hand on his chest. “How do you do that?” she murmured.

He frowned. “Do what?”

“Make my wolf go all awestruck?”

Emon stared at her in surprise, and then gave a harsh bark of laughter. “How the hell should I know? Maybe she has a dragon fetish. Although people usually don’t go awestruck until I Change to dragon form.”

Trish had to disagree with that—she was feeling pretty awestruck right now. He was standing only inches away from her, close enough to see the flecks of gold inside the green in his eyes, and he smelled warm and spicy, like cinnamon toast, with a hint of smokiness underneath. She could sense the power and wildness of his dragon

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she said.

He gave another short huffing laugh, but the smile faded from his face as he looked down into her eyes.

Slowly, his hand came up under her chin, his fingers hot against her skin. “I see her inside you,” he said softly, wonder in his voice. “Your wolf. She’s beautiful.”

Like She-Wolf, Trish went completely, totally still, inside and out.

Her wolf was wild, uncontrollable, homicidal. Rogue.

Few people had even seen her. No one had ever called her beautiful.

Emon was looking straight into her soul. Like he wanted to get to know her and her wolf, learn all about them. Her hand was still resting on his chest, and she could feel him breathing, feel his heart beating.