it made her tingle. It made her think of the big bed in his bedroom and what they could do there...
“I don’t believe that story about the firestorm,” she said. “I think it’s a ruse and a lie, a trick to get sex whenever you want it.”
He was obviously insulted. “I don’t need a trick to get sex,” he retorted and she could believe it. “The firestorm is the sign of a Pyr meeting his destined mate, the one woman who can bear his son.” He said this with complete conviction.
Was he a romantic? She’d never have expected that.
“How many destined mates do you have? You dragon-shifters can live a long time.”
“Only one,” he insisted. “A treasure worth waiting for.”
Rania wasn’t going to be swayed by something so ridiculous. Believing in the firestorm put Hadrian at a disadvantage. If a destined mate was so rare, Rania guessed that he’d be reluctant to injure her, much less kill her, even in self-defense.
She could work with that.
He lifted her in front of his face, examining her closely. The air was cool, but Rania felt warm and protected in his grasp. There was something about that dragon perusal that made her feel as if he could guess all her secrets. She held his stare, defying him to do so.
“Why me?” he asked in a rumble. She felt the vibration of his voice, which seemed intimate. Seductive.
Rania bristled. “Why not you?”
Hadrian shook his head. The sunlight glittered on the emerald and silver of his scales, making him look like a jeweled treasure. “You have a reason.” He did have a way of seeing past her glib answers.
It seemed harmless to tell him a bit more. “I have to kill one of the Pyr. I chose you.”
He seemed to be intrigued. “Why?”
“Because you’re a blacksmith, as well as a dragon shifter.”
“But Quinn Tyrrell is the Smith of the Pyr.”
“And he has kids. It’s not going to ruin anyone’s life when you die.” Rania was surprised that she’d admitted so much, but something about this dragon’s intensity made her talkative—or defensive about her choice.
His sudden smile surprised her even more. She hadn’t thought dragons could smile, or that she’d find the sight charming. Being wrong on both counts didn’t help her regain her focus.
“It’ll ruin mine,” he noted with amusement and she was almost surprised into a smile herself, because that was true.
Instead she scowled. “That would be the point.”
He didn’t argue it. He just flew higher, and she admired his powerful grace. His wings were so large that he was able to beat them slowly yet remain aloft. He made flight look effortless.
“You’re an assassin for the Dark Queen, but you have a soft spot for children,” he mused and Rania felt herself flush. “That seems inconsistent.”
“I’m just not going to be the one to hurt them.”
To her relief, he didn’t immediately pursue that.
Rania continued. “And no one says my victims didn’t deserve what they got.”
He nodded slowly, considering this. “Why a Pyr?”
“I just follow the rules.”
“What if you die in the attempt?”
Rania shrugged. “If I were you, I wouldn’t count on getting lucky. I have a reputation.”
He laughed. His voice dropped low and that white light seemed to burn even brighter. It certainly prompted a stronger reaction within Rania and she had a hard time keeping herself from stroking his claw.
Why did she want to touch him so badly?
“Maybe I feel lucky now,” he mused.
This had to be beguiling. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”
“Maybe I want one last wish before you kill me.”
“Maybe you’re not that lucky.”
Rania caught her breath as Hadrian pivoted smoothly and dove back toward the earth with incredible speed. Her hair whipped around her face as the earth loomed ever closer. She loved to fly but she never flew to such great heights in her swan form—and even in a plane, she preferred to be the one at the controls. A dive like this was a daring and thrilling move. It was an expression of confidence: he knew he could shift or stop at the last minute, even at such a speed.
She admired that. She clutched Hadrian’s talon as he rapidly descended toward his house, letting him think she was more alarmed than she was. If he meant to alarm her into confessing more or agreeing to his request, she could respect the tactic.
He sped up. “So tell me: are you the pawn of the Dark Queen or are you in league with her?”
“Does it matter?” The earth was looming closer. No,