to seduce him, thoroughly, and that was so far from her usual inclinations that she wondered what was going on. Such attraction, after all, could compromise her effectiveness.
It already had.
She dreamed of Hadrian and daydreamed about him. She savored the memory of her first glimpse of this dragon shifter, and the admiration that had flooded through her. Hadrian was tall and broad, a warrior even in his human form. His eyes were green, but that single word didn’t do them justice: they held a thousand warm hues of green from emerald to sea glass, even with some flicks of gold. There was humor in that gaze and intelligence, too, and the way his eyes had lit with admiration when he surveyed her had been an unexpected pleasure.
She’d only revealed her face to him, hiding the rest behind a veil of feathers, so it hadn’t been lust that had lit his expression. The way he had smiled, just a little, had nearly stopped Rania from doing what had to be done.
That was what made him dangerous.
He could tempt her to hesitate.
“The firestorm,” he’d called it when white light sparked between them and there had been awe in his deep voice. Like it was a marvel. Like she was a wonder. Rania hadn’t ever felt appreciated like that. Maybe that was the secret. He had an accent, too, a British one, which seemed just about perfect for a hunky dragon shifter.
What did he look like in his dragon form? She wanted to see him in flight and when he fought. Curiosity was dangerous, but Rania couldn’t resist the mystery of this dragon shifter who had dared to survive her kiss.
She’d studied since her failure, determined to make it right. Thanks to Melissa Smith’s television specials on the Pyr, it was easy to find out more about the dragon shifters. She’d learned that the firestorm was the mating sign of his kind, the Pyr, the mark of one dragon shifter finding the woman who could bear his son.
It was a romantic notion, which meant Rania didn’t believe in it one bit. It had to be a way to seduce women and create more dragon shifters. Maybe a kind of sex spell. She’d bet the firestorm sparked whenever one of them wanted it to.
She’d learned about beguiling, too, a kind of hypnosis practiced by the Pyr, and wondered if that was how Hadrian had made her pause before giving her lethal kiss. That delay might have been enough.
It wasn’t a mistake she’d make twice.
Her ring, though, was a riddle she couldn’t solve. It still shone with inner radiance, burning like a beacon, although she had no idea why. Had it changed forver? How? Why?
It was time to extinguish both lights forever and put an end to the distraction that was Hadrian MacEwan. The Fae spies had said he would return to his smithy in Northumberland this very day so Rania awaited him in his own lair.
Impatiently.
He would be with two other Pyr, the spies said. He’d left Manhattan with them: one who was injured from Maeve’s exploration of his mind and one who was a dragon healer. There was a fearlessness in the decision to leave the other Pyr that Rania tried to keep from admiring—there had to be safety in numbers, after all, and the dragon shifters were doomed—but she told herself to be realistic. It might not be bravery. It could be a refusal to acknowledge that the attack the previous Saturday was the first of a sequence of forays that would leave the world devoid of Others.
Hadrian might be stupid.
He might be cocky and over-confident.
He wasn’t necessarily courageous. Rania should give credit only when she knew it was due. She’d manifested inside his home, leaving the locks and any other protective mechanisms undisturbed. And then she waited.
It wasn’t easy. After all, a blacksmith’s studio was the last place Rania wanted to be, and even drawing close to one gave her the creeps. The only good thing about Hadrian’s home was that it was located in the country, where there were fewer prying eyes to notice any change of routine. He’d converted an old mill to both studio and home, and a river ran merrily alongside it. Rania could hear the birds and the wind, too. She found the location of his home soothing, but told herself to remain on guard. She’d never yet adjusted to the modern world but she’d have plenty of time to worry about that later.