Page 7 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

“Damn, you figured it out. I guess I might as well go ahead and tell you that I’m the secret half brother of the royal family, just waiting to bump them off so I can inherit everything.” He tried to grin evilly, which totally didn’t work on him, and added. “I can have a mute servant with a mysterious scar come in and light the fire, if you want.”

“I’d take you up on that if I thought you really meant it, but you’re just toying with me, aren’t you.”

He grinned for real and shrugged. “Not about the fire.”

“I think I’m okay for now.”

“Okay then. I’ll leave you to get settled.” He paused in the doorway, then added, “Welcome to the dark and gloomy House of Al-Maddeiri, in exile.”

He left, breaking into an Oscar-worthy evil villain laugh that echoed down the hall as he walked away.

She kind of liked that guy.

Too bad he wasn’t the one she needed help from.

Trish pressed the heels of her hands to her temples. She’d been joking to keep She-Wolf at bay, but now the wolf was tearing at her insides again. Out! Out!

You can’t come out! But her wolf was in a mood, and when she was in a mood she was uncontrollable. Maybe some fresh air would help, until Trish could find Tristan.

She went over to the window. It was a casement style that opened like double doors, and she pushed open one side and leaned out.

The air was chilly and it was still raining, though the thunder and lightning had passed overhead. Trish breathed deeply and tried to calm her wolf down.

She scanned the sky, looking for the Darkwing Dragon, but there was nothing above but windswept skies.

Then, slowly, a great shadowy shape rose from below her. A huge head appeared, not three feet in front of her, its eyes glowing electric green.

Trish froze, looking straight into the dragon’s eyes as it hovered outside her window, staring back at her.

No, not ‘it’. Him. She knew in the marrow of her bones that this was Prince Emon.

His pupils were black slits, with lightning dancing in the center. His tongue snaked out between his giant pointed fangs, as if he were licking his chops.

Looking at a snack.

Good dragon, she thought, too frozen to speak. No biting.

He gave a little huff of air, almost as if he were laughing. Then his shoulder muscles bunched and the midnight black wings swooshed down, propelling him upwards.

In a moment, he was gone.

Trish backed up until she hit one of the chairs and sank into it, shaking.

She-Wolf was howling inside her, and Trish doubled over with a sudden cramp. Two of her ribs snapped, her body shimmering with the beginnings of the Change.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She couldn’t Change in this room—She-Wolf would destroy it, and everyone would know she was rogue. It was too high to jump from the window. Could she make it outside? But how would she explain?

As another cramp hit her, she saw a piece of folded paper on top of her stack of books. Her name was on the outside, in Tristan’s slanted handwriting.

With a shaking hand, she reached out to grab it.

If you’re reading this, I couldn’t get away to meet you. I’ll come find you as soon as I can. In the meantime, check this place out. It’s like one of your books. And don’t forget to look in the bathroom—it’s amazing. Everything you could need is in there.

She dropped the note on the table. The bathroom. Everything she could need. Tris hadn’t forgotten her after all.

She dashed for the door Grange had indicated, wobbling slightly on legs trying to turn wolf. Groping on the base of the wall sconce, she turned the light globe on. Her cosmetics and toiletries had been set out next to the marble sink, looking lonely on the vast countertop.

Below it was a set of small drawers. Inside the top one was a thin leather case containing two syringes.