Hour of the Dragon - Heather Killough-Walden Page 0,79

Annaleia had stopped a few yards away, still unsure of how close she should get to him. You’re my treasure, he thought. “I can see that,” he said with a winsome smile.

“Thank you for the sweater,” she told him. Her heart rate had increased as she’d come toward him. But whether it was out of fear or something else, he couldn’t yet be certain. Maybe it’s just the sugar, he told himself as if he needed a reminder to keep his excitement in check.

“You’re welcome,” he said. To everything and anything. Always.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked then, before taking another bite of the bar.

He looked away and pretended to pay attention to what he was talking about. “Reinforcing a few wards.” He shrugged. “It’s always a good idea to ride the fences from time to time.” He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “Make sure your property is clearly marked.”

Annaleia’s eyes met his. He held them hard for a moment, wanting her to understand.

He knew she did when her pupils expanded and her heart hammered a few times. She tore her gaze away with impressive willpower – she was unwittingly defying a dragon in his own home. And then the little minx licked her damn pink lips again, looked out at the ocean as he had been, and said, “I see. And I’m to surmise that you think I’m your property.”

Ares watched her in silence for a moment, wondering how exactly to put the words, You are mine, without sounding completely caveman. When he couldn’t think of a way, he took a slow, deep breath. “That isn’t the question you really want to ask me, Annaleia.” Oh nice, he chastised himself. Diversionary tactics. You’re a coward, Mace.

He imagined giving himself the finger.

And to Annaleia, he said, “Now’s your chance, Leia.” He regarded her with a tilt of his head. “And you might not get another one.” He opened his arms. “So fire away.”

Annaleia replaced the tongue she was using on her lip with her teeth. She worried it until it was even more plump than before, and when Ares felt he might break, she finally asked, “Well, I want to know why you never told me. That you’re a dragon,” she told him frankly. He watched as she shoved the remainder of the candy bar into her mouth and chewed hard as if it gave her courage to continue. “But I can’t even ask you that until I know for sure it’s you. Or that you’re him.” She closed her eyes and swore softly, turning away from him for a moment.

He was such a good dragon for not reaching out and grabbing her.

She took two steps, stopped, and turned back.

His fist uncurled.

“So you told me I wouldn’t believe you about how this stupid spell is broken.” She took a deep breath and let it out fast. “Well, try me.” She put her hands on her hips and finally gained enough courage to look back up into his eyes.

Violet storms waited, lightning of impatience and desperation coursing through their depths as much as it raked through his blood. Very well, he thought. He felt himself start to smile in anticipation of her reaction. “You break it with a kiss.”

But rather than flush or blush or become flustered, his little raindrop dragon full of sugar fuel cocked her head to the side and said, “Oh really? Well then I’m thinking you should have kissed Sterling while you were still back in the alley.” She gestured wildly to the wards that no one could see but him and continued speaking quickly, her words strung together in one long run-on sentence. “I mean, he’s the one who cast the spell so I can probably rightfully surmise that he’s the one you have to kiss, but you’ve gone and reinforced all these damn wards now, so it’s going to be more than a little difficult to get the warlock back here so you can plant one on him, isn’t it?”

She shook her head in disappointment, real or pretend – he honestly couldn’t tell at this point, she was such a live wire. “Well done, Mace,” she said in a voice that mirrored her disappointed expression. “That was quick thinking.” And then she whirled around to march right back into the house, her long rose-gold highlights flying out behind her with beautiful flurry. As she left, her muttered, private words reached him too. “… thinks he can screw with me, and at