Thea Harrison - Dragon Bound

“Dragos, am I a prisoner?” she asked. After weighing on her since last night, the question slipped out easily enough after all.

His eyes narrowed as he looked up. She kept her attention on putting things back in her sewing kit and willed her fingers not to shake. “No,” he said after a thoughtful moment. “Why do you ask?”

“The guards last night.” Relief had her offering him an unsteady smile.

“The guards are for your safety. When I’m not with you, they will be.” As she opened her mouth, he said, “That’s nonnegotiable.”

“But—”

His face hardened. “No arguing, Pia,” he said. “I am at war now. Until I bury Urien, he’s going to continue to be a serious danger. Whether he knew about you before or not is a moot point. After what happened on the plain, you have just become a major target.”

“But guards even here?” She felt any hope of even an illusion of freedom slipping between her fingers.

“A couple thousand people work here every day. Several thousand more visit. Yes, there is security and there are restricted areas, but no place is a hundred percent secure, not when Power is involved. You remember how I got to you with the dream. What if some magical attack occurs? You will have guards until this is all over. End of discussion.”

Her lips tightened. His logic was irrefutable and his autocratic attitude all but intolerable. When she thought she had her temper under control, she gave him a short nod. She didn’t necessarily disagree with him once he had explained things. She just expected to have a say in what happened in her life.

He settled back against the pillows and laced his hands behind his head again. He gave her a relaxed, ruthless smile. “Now that it’s come up and we can have that long-overdue conversation, why don’t you tell me all about your mother and how you healed me?”

After a frozen moment, she threw herself off the bed. She grabbed her sewing kit and stomped into the dressing room. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”

He followed and leaned a shoulder against the doorpost. He had slipped on a pair of black silk pants. His gold eyes gleamed. “It’s pretty evident you healed me with your blood. That’s why you were so desperate to destroy it. Your blood tells something important about you. You couldn’t leave any behind.”

She took in his dark lounging figure and looked away with determination. Yes, he was too sexy for words. He was also utterly insufferable and he didn’t have an ounce of shame or embarrassment to his name. “I guess when you promised not to ask me about it, you meant you wouldn’t ask when you didn’t want to,” she said in a grim voice. She shoved her sewing kit into a drawer and brushed past him.

“Of course.” He turned to track her. “I learned that from someone I know. You know, the one who promised not to argue only when she doesn’t want to,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her. “Now who could that be?”

She stormed up to him and stuck her finger under his nose. “That was different.”

“How do you figure?”

“We were in a bad situation. I reserve the right to sometimes know better than you do what should be done. So I’ll argue with you whenever I feel like arguing, big guy.”

His mouth flattened. He folded his arms. It was obvious he was unimpressed with her finger or her posturing. “Like you did when we were in the car with the Goblins watching?”

She scowled. “That was a mistake. I already said that and apologized. I would also like to point out that if I had been a good little girl and followed every single thing you told me to do when you were throwing orders around, I might still be sitting in my cell. My initiative saved your ass.”

“I already said that too,” he said, eyes narrowed. He went nose to nose with her. “You’re deflecting. You really don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

She backed away from him, rounding her eyes. “What part of ‘don’t ask me any questions about this’ gave you that idea?”

He followed, on the prowl, his body moving with liquid grace. “So, let’s see, what do I know? No lock can hold you, you’re an herbivore, you have to wear a dampening spell to appear human, and your mother was revered by the Elves.”

“Stop it,” she whispered. It felt like he was peeling her alive, exposing everything.

There was no mercy in that predator’s gaze. “You know, I felt the Power in your blood when I cleaned you off in the car. Then on the plain, when you put your hand on me, I thought you were going to knock me to the ground. But you weren’t sure it was going to work. It’s because you’re a half-breed, isn’t it? All those abilities are from your Wyrkind blood. You got them from your mother.”

She turned away and looked around the room. It seemed so much smaller than it did before. She went to the French doors, threw them open and rushed outside, desperate for fresh air.

That was just before she saw there was no railing or wall, just a straight, flat ledge to open air. Sharp whistling gusts of wind teased her hair. Everything whirled around her and started to tilt. Hard arms caught her and held her fast.

“Shit,” she said, shaking. She clutched his arm. “There’s no railing.”

“You did so well on the flight. I thought you weren’t afraid of heights,” he said. He pulled her back inside and kept one arm around her waist as he shut and locked the doors. He frowned down at her. “You’re white as a sheet.”

“I don’t have a problem with heights—when there’s a rail! Or a wall, or some kind of barrier!” She pointed out the window. “That’s a straight eighty-floor drop. Not so small a deal to someone with no parachute or wings.”

“Pia, the edge is a good twenty feet away now.” His hand was gentle as he rubbed her arm.

“I know that. Did I say I was being rational?” she said. Embarrassment and fright made her even more irritable. She found her balance and straightened out of his hold. There was a sharp rap on the door. Rune and Graydon walked in. She threw up her hands and snapped, “And does anybody in this place wait for an answer when they knock?”

The two men froze. They stared at Pia, with her disheveled blonde hair and furious face, pink thigh-length robe and delicate contoured legs down to the red-tipped polished toes. Then they looked at Dragos, in his black silk pajama pants, bare chest and blonde braid of hair on one dark wrist.

Dragos stalked after her as she stormed into the bathroom. She slammed the door. He put his hands on his hips and raised his voice as he told her through the panel, “We’re not through discussing this.”

The bathroom door yanked open. She snapped, “And my mother is none of your business!” She slammed the door again.

Dragos turned to look at the two men. Graydon, the brawniest of the gryphons, had begun shaking his head and backing out of the room. Rune just stared.

Dragos said, “What.”

“Who are you,” Rune said, “and what have you done with Dragos?”

He gave them his machete smile. “I had no idea this could be so much fun.”

Rune said, “We just thought you’d be ready to get on with your day. There’s a backlog of issues waiting for your attention.”

Graydon said, “We’ll go now and come back much, much later.”

“No, don’t bother.” He strode over to the serving cart and started inspecting the contents under the silver covers. One hid oatmeal with walnuts and apples. He covered it back up. The other had a pound of fried bacon and a half-dozen scrambled eggs. He picked up the plate and a fork.

He told Graydon, “Make us a pot of coffee.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “Please.”