Battle Bond: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons #2) - Lindsay Buroker Page 0,94

to the basement we suspect. Sindari trotted off, disappearing into the shadows.

That’s a lofty word to describe walking around the house.

My people are articulate.

They do a lot of wordsmithing out on the tundra where you hunt?

We use poetry to woo female Zhinevarii.

I wouldn’t have guessed. On what subjects? Philosophy? Feelings? The beauty of nature?

Often on the exultation of the hunt, of the excitement of stalking and chasing down one’s prey, and of feasting on sumptuous fresh, hot, still-twitching meat.

I was sorry I’d asked. And that works on females of your species?

Naturally. Would it not work on you?

I guess I don’t know. Nobody has ever penned me poetry about meat.

A shame. No wonder you are lonely.

Had I ever admitted that to him? I rarely even admitted it to myself. This conversation had gotten less fun.

I’ve never asked, Sindari. Do you have a mate?

I do not currently have a partner, but I have sired children. My people usually have several mates in their lives.

They’re not into monogamy?

Only during mating season. Sindari padded back into view. I have heard dragons mate for life, if that’s of interest to you.

I squinted at him. Why would it be?

He didn’t truly think I’d been flirting with Zav the other day, did he? He hadn’t been in our world when Dob had been diddling with my mind.

Since you’re so often the object of dragon interest of late, it would behoove you to know more about them.

That was probably true, but… Not their mating habits.

Are you sure? I would allow you to use some of my poems to woo Lord Zavryd if that is your desire.

It is not. I pushed aside the horrifying image of me spouting lines about stalking prey and consuming still-twitching meat to Zav. Did you find the basement?

I could not detect an outside entrance, nor sense any magic in the ground that would hint of an enchanted secret door.

Too bad, but I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t see any vents or openings to suggest a lower level even existed. Only the magical aura of the being trapped down there.

A bedroom window is open in the back— Sindari pointed his nose toward the house, —and I do not believe anyone is inside that room currently.

Let’s give it a try.

I wanted to find a way in and to check out the basement before all my local distractions started. I still had a vain hope that whoever was down there could be freed or turned against the brothers to force them out of business—or at least make them have to stop fulfilling orders until they found someone else to use.

Before trotting across the lawn after Sindari, I checked my ammo pouches and the small backpack I’d grabbed to hold the glass bulbs of mustard gas that Zoltan had made for me. They were insulated in a case, not where I could get to them easily, but the fragile glass hadn’t made me inclined to keep them in a pocket. I also made sure the small charm Zoltan had given me was hanging on my leather thong with the others. It was shaped like a bulbous nose, and I wished I’d thought to make a design request before he’d made it.

The lights were on in the messy bedroom—it smelled like an animal den from ten feet away, even to my weak half-human nose—and the door was open, voices coming from the hallway, but Sindari was right. Nobody was inside. I started to draw Chopper, intending to cut through the screen, but Sindari eased past me.

Allow me.

He lifted a paw, one of his claws extended, and soundlessly sliced open the screen on all sides.

Handy. I pulled myself through, landing lightly on the clothing-strewn carpet inside. Next time the electricity is out, I’m coming to you to open cans.

The den smell was stronger inside. It seemed strange that all these cats were living together, even temporarily, when I associated most of the big feline predators with being solitary. Prides were a lion thing, and I assumed whoever had started the Northern Pride was a lion shifter, but these other members were all going along with it. Maybe there were perks. Like lawyers and assistance with beating the snot out of pesky government assassins.

Someone is coming. Sindari slid into the closet, knocking off the handful of garments hanging up instead of piled in a heap on the floor.

Light footsteps sounded in the hall, just audible over the voices of people in the living room. I hadn’t moved from the window yet, so