care about it, yet the Dark Queen didn’t take it, even though it’s obviously valuable.”
“It might not be. It might just look good.” She shrugged. “She looked at it a couple of times, but she’d never touched it.”
That made Hadrian wonder whether the ring was magickal in its own right. Why else would Maeve have avoided contact with it? Why else would it have started to glow? It was more important than his mate was letting on. Did she know more about it than she was sharing with him? “Maybe your brothers miss you. The portals between the mortal realm and Fae might close. You might not get to hang out together any more than you do now.”
She shrugged. “I’m not going to worry about losing something I’ve never had.” She frowned. “Give me one of my knives. Let’s end this.”
“No. I want to ask your brothers what they think of my offer. If they don’t agree, then I’ll give you whichever knife you want.” He lifted his hands. “Come on. Twelve brothers cursed to be swans. I want to see that even if you never did.”
She eyed him, her expression wary. Hadrian thought she looked dangerous and adorable, which he found a very alluring combination. “You are stubborn, aren’t you?”
“I like being alive. I like you. I like the idea of spending more time with you. And I’d like to get my gloves done for my friends.”
“You’d like to meet my brothers. And you’d like to satisfy the firestorm,” she concluded, a hint of a smile curving her lips. “Trust me to pick a dragon with a long bucket list.”
“It’s not that long,” Hadrian protested, taking a step closer to her. The firestorm shimmered and glowed between them and he heard her pulse increase. She licked her lips and he remembered the feel of her wrapped around him, the memory tightening everything within him.
He reached out a hand, uncertain whether she’d stay or not, and his fingertips brushed her cheek. He heard her sigh. He saw her soften. He saw her eyes close, those lashes fluttering as if she wanted to resist him but couldn’t. He saw her lips part, as if their thoughts were united. He saw her lean closer and felt the firestorm brighten to incendiary heat...
Then just as his anticipation rose, his mate said “Uh oh” and vanished one more time.
Uh oh?
Where had she gone?
She hadn’t said anything the other times.
He told himself that he was getting through to her, even though he’d really wanted that kiss. In this moment, it was hard to believe—but she hadn’t killed him yet.
That was unassailable.
Being summoned by Maeve without warning couldn’t be a good thing.
Did the Dark Queen know that Rania hadn’t been able to kill Hadrian? If so, their interview wouldn’t go well. She’d never had any dread about meeting Maeve before and found the change in her reaction unsettling.
How had Hadrian managed to affect her so much so quickly? Rania didn’t even want to think about the power a Pyr might have when he beguiled anyone. She was finding Hadrian seductive and persuasive all on his own—well, with the firestorm on his side. With every passing moment and each new confidence exchanged, she had less desire to kill him.
How had she managed to do this twelve times before? She hadn’t been lying to him—it had been easy.
Until now.
That was probably the point. He wanted to survive, and not just for the sake of the firestorm. It was just bad luck that she found him so attractive. It was probably a good thing that Maeve had summoned Rania when she had. Rania wasn’t very confident that she would have been able to stop that kiss, and a kiss could easily lead to more. A child was the last thing she needed in her life, never mind a Pyr child.
She’d never thought about children before, never even considered the possibility. As she hurled toward Maeve, Rania wondered what Hadrian had looked like when young. He’d probably been cute. Precocious. Curious. Difficult to discipline, but so mischievous and adorable that it would be hard to care.
She was smiling when she arrived before Maeve, which proved not to be the best choice. Maeve was in her Dublin townhouse: Rania recognized it from other visits. It was in the mortal realm and elegantly decorated in black and white, with an impressive collection of antiques. Maeve appeared to be alone in her kitchen, standing at a granite counter, pouring a drink from a