Hadrian turned down his lane and his lair came into view. He parked the Land Rover beside Alasdair’s and his cousin immediately got out to check his own vehicle—which was untouched, of course. Hadrian took a deep breath but there was no hint of Lynsay’s presence.
He shouldn’t have expected otherwise. There was no reason to be disappointed. He knew he’d done the right thing by breaking it off, but he would miss her. He wanted her to be happy, though, and knew he wasn’t the one who could give her that.
Hadrian unlocked the door to the lair and Balthasar followed him with groceries. Hadrian claimed the gloves with purpose.
“I’m going to call Donovan and tell him the package arrived,” Balthasar said. “And ask how he takes the gloves through the shift.”
“I need a shower, then I’ll get to work.”
Alasdair trailed in with the last box of groceries, checking his phone with one hand.
The mill that had become Hadrian’s home and studio was constructed in an L, which made the division between home and work easy. He’d built his studio in the larger arm of the L and his home in the other. At the junction was his office and a formidable barrier of dragonsmoke buttressing the entrance to his lair, hoard and home.
His lair had a large main room, with a high ceiling and exposed brick walls. The kitchen was at one end, immediately inside the door. There was a big fireplace on the opposite wall which divided the bedroom from the rest. Kristofer had done some amazing pointwork during a visit years before, building an arch in the wall to the right of the fireplace. It wasn’t original but blended with the architectural details while still looking a bit modern.
The arch gave access to Hadrian’s bedroom: there was a door between it and the bathroom beyond. Windows on the right of the great room and bedroom offered a view of the river that had originally provided power to the mill. That vista changed with the seasons and Hadrian never tired of it. There was a loft over the bedroom, a second bath for guests, and a room behind the office that could be used as a spare room.
Hadrian paused in the great room and took a deep breath, assessing. His dragonsmoke was undisturbed, although the protective barrier had faded a bit in his absence. It still gave a resonant ping, though, proof that it was intact. He’d have to fortify it before the end of the day. There was a bit of dust on everything, since he’d been gone more than a month.
If Lynsay had stopped by to collect her things, she would have done it right away. Her key was probably under the door mat. He wasn’t going to dwell on the end of that relationship or even check for the key at this point. The dragonsmoke didn’t stop a human intruder although that person might feel a slight chill when passing through it. Hadrian couldn’t smell Lynsay’s skin, though, and had to conclude she hadn’t come by at all.
The odd thing was that Hadrian had the sense his lair wasn’t empty. How could that be? He couldn’t smell or hear anyone, much less see any signs of another presence. He shook his head, thinking that recent events had made him paranoid.
He left the box from Donovan on the kitchen counter, only giving the enclosed note the barest glance. He wanted to check out the gloves and they didn’t disappoint. He tugged them on, snapping his fingers so the blades extended and catching his breath in admiration. He turned his hands, admiring the blades’ flexibility and craftsmanship. Quinn had set a high bar even with his traditional methods. He was so detail-oriented.
Sunlight shone through the windows and glinted on the lethal blades. Donovan had explained to Hadrian that he didn’t fold them away with his clothes: in his dragon form, they merged with his claws, lengthening them into swords.
Hadrian couldn’t wait to see that. He moved into the center of the large living space, aware that Balthasar was talking to Donovan already. He summoned the shift and savored the brilliant shimmer of blue light that heralded his change between forms. It always made him feel invincible to shift shape. He thought of Donovan’s advice during the transition and tried to follow it. The shift rolled through him, sharpening his senses and filling him with welcome sense of power.