In a Dragon’s Dream by Riley Storm Page 0,17

interested nor willing to give. Enough.

He sent the last word as a mental command to his body, exerting his willpower and retaking control of himself.

“Yes,” he assured her at last, when he was firmly back in command. “All is well now.”

“Okay.” Laura looked back and forth between his eyes for a few seconds, focusing on one then the other. “Tell me, was last night about dragon business?”

The abrupt return to the topic of dragons nearly fooled Rakell. Nearly. If he’d not already almost fallen victim to it twice before with Laura, he might have given away a hint just then. At this point however, he was ready, at all times, for whatever she might try.

“What is it with you and dragons?” he asked, frowning. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. And if you go around telling people that, they’re gonna think you’re crazy. Really crazy.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “I don’t go telling everyone. I don’t go telling anyone, actually. I respect your privacy. I just wish you’d stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying to you,” Rakell lied.

He didn’t like it. In fact, he hated it. Lying was anathema to dragons. They longed to tell the truth, and often, when it came to their true heritage, would frame their words to omit the truth, without flat lying.

Sometimes, however, there was no way around it. Like now, with the very persistent Laura. She wasn’t giving up. She obviously knew the truth from somewhere, but Rakell wasn’t about to tell her. He wasn’t about to cave to her trickery and demands.

The secret was far too important for that.

Still, he loathed himself for the lie, for the fiction that he had to maintain. Speaking such falsities to Laura hurt him deeper than any wound he’d ever suffered in battle.

But it was a price he had to accept.

And I need to start digging into who revealed the truth to her. Which one of us is responsible for the exposure of our secret, I wonder?

Names and faces scrolled across his vision like a computer screen as he tried to determine who it might have been. Several suspects jumped out, simply due to circumstances and connection to Laura, but yet it still didn’t fit. Not quite. There was a missing piece somewhere.

Rakell just didn’t know what it was.

“Why do you think that I am a dragon?” he asked, making the word sound as preposterous as he could. “Where would such an idea come from? I’m just like you. Well, male, but…”

“You certainly are that,” Laura muttered, eyes looking him up and down.

She locked eyes with him at the top and went bright red at the look on his face, obviously realizing that she’d said the last sentence aloud.

“Oh god,” she said, clapping hands over her mouth. “Um.”

“You were talking about ‘dragons’,” he said, using his hands to add quotes to it as well for emphasis.

“Right,” she muttered, shaking her head, clearly grateful for his decision not to acknowledge her compliment.

That’s what it had been, right?

“Anyway, all you up there. The five families. You’re all dragon shifters,” Laura said, recovering her mental balance. “Half human, half dragon. Able to take the form of either. Sounds remarkable really. I wish I could see one. For real.”

“You actually believe this…” Rakell said slowly.

“Of course I do,” she retorted. “If you’d get the stick out of your ass and just accept that I know, and that you can trust me not to tell anyone, then this would be far easier.”

Just like the person who trusted whoever told you? No, I don’t think so Laura Fitzgerald. You are clever, but not clever enough. I think I shall keep this secret a bit longer indeed.

“There’s no such thing as dragons,” Rakell said, shrugging. “Sorry to burst this little fantasy you’ve created for yourself.

Laura fixed him with a stare that read, clear as day, ‘I don’t believe you one bit’.

Rakell didn’t even flinch. He wasn’t caving.

“Fine, keep your secrets for now,” Laura said, waving at him in dismissal. “You’ll tell me eventually.”

I doubt that.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said, lifting one hand palm upward.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Laura said, abruptly shifting conversation yet again. “I’m starving, and I don’t want to eat all the food I’m actually going to make.”

He chuckled. “Not a problem. I’ll take the leftovers.”

It was less than twelve hours earlier that he’d fought a battle. Underneath the black shirt, his stomach was still covered in a welt from the cut he’d received, and numerous other bruises dotted his