Page 63 of Red Dragon’s Heart

And like her Unka Zak, Maddie thought. She asked, “Can I see the others?” She didn’t want to horn in on his special relationship with Kendra, but she found herself wanting to share the things that were close to his heart. Even if they were murder drawings.

“They’re just a kid’s scribbles,” he said with his customary shrug. As if it didn’t matter. But his hand lingered on the top drawing, almost like a caress, and she knew it did. “And anyway, right now I have somewhere I need to go, and I want you to come.”

She could see the excitement in his eyes, even though his face was still guarded.

She had been about to protest that she didn’t want to meet any more people. She knew most of them didn’t want her here; they were only accepting her because they cared about Zak, and because King Emon had brought her.

But that look in his eyes stopped her. He wanted to share something that mattered to him, and that wasn’t easy for him.

“Okay. But just please don’t let your friends lynch me for working for Belvedere. I keep getting the feeling they hate me.”

“They’ll like you when they get to know you. You’re irresistible.” He paused to give her a lingering kiss.

“Only to you.” Or rather, your monster, she thought uneasily. But surely this was more than a monster thing. She wanted to believe he felt something for her.

He smiled down at her, and she melted. He was the one who was irresistible, and he didn’t even know it. If he wanted to share something important with her, no way was she turning him down.

“I’m in,” she said. “Lead on, Dragon Captor.”

He led her on a ten-minute walk through the castle, down to the ground level and all the way to the opposite wing, where they went further down, to a basement level. Finally they came to a polished wooden door. “This is my man cave,” Zak said. “Made it myself, with my own two hands and Emon’s credit card.”

He opened the door on a huge room that looked like a fantasy version of a man cave. Pool table, giant TV, pinball machines, movie-style popcorn machine, wet bar with full fridge—it went on and on.

The TV was on, and some of the kids who’d greeted them on the stairs were sprawled over the furniture and the rug, watching a hockey game. They startled as Zak came in, and tried unsuccessfully to hide their open beer bottles.

Zak folded his arms and tried to look stern. “Excuse me?” he rumbled. “Who told you that you could invade my man cave? And drink my beer?”

The kids did not look noticeably cowed. “It’s Uncle Tristan’s beer,” said one of the oldest—a blond girl with a face full of mischief. “We drank your beer, like, a year ago.”

A dark, broody-looking boy who seemed to be about fifteen said, “For fuck’s sake, Michelangela, shut up.”

“You shut up, Brandy-balls.”

One of the hockey teams scored a goal, and two identical blond boys lying on the floor let out a cheer and fist-bumped. Another girl of about twelve or thirteen stopped painting her fingernails long enough to kick the nearest one. “Pay attention, you morons. We’re getting yelled at.”

“I can’t be bothered yelling at you,” Zakerek grumbled. “I’m busy, and it never does any good. Drink until you throw up, for all I care. Just don’t barf on my furniture, or I’ll put a spell on you.”

“Turn Brandon into a frog,” Michelangela suggested. “I’d pay to see that.”

The dark-haired girl next to her giggled. “Ribbit,” she said, in a deep frog voice.

The broody boy gave her the finger. “You shut up too, Jaeda.” She stuck her tongue out at him. The girl with the nail polish reached out, grabbed his hand, and painted the middle fingernail shocking pink.

“Fuck you, Arden.” He tried to get it off with a tissue and just ended up with tissue stuck to his fingernail. “Fucking girls.”

A girl of about eight or nine with curly blond hair, sitting next to Brandon, said, “How come you never let me paint your nails, Brand?”

“Because I’m not a dork, like Colt.”

“She did it while I was sleeping!” protested one of the identical boys.

The littlest girl grinned, and Brandon low-fived her. “Can I paint them? Pleeease?” she wheedled. “I’ll do something cool.” She looked at the open makeup container sitting next to Arden. “You got any black in there?”

“Sure,” Arden said. She pulled out a bottle and tossed it at the little girl, who caught it expertly.

She spread Brandon’s hand out on her lap and uncapped the bottle, dipping the brush and beginning to apply polish to his nails. “Ooh, look, it has glitter in it!”

“I should have known,” Brandon muttered in disgust, but he let her keep going.