“I said nothing of the sort,” Rowan protested. “I did not call you a big fat anything—for the record, I happen to like women with curves, and in fact, think you are quite attractive—and I didn’t call you a liar. I simply asked Mrs. P if she thought you were… er…”
“Telling the truth,” Sophea finished triumphantly. “Which is another way of saying a liar. Well, I’m not, as I said. So you can just move on, and Mrs. P, so help me, if I catch you trying to seduce anyone else, I will march straight upstairs and take everything out of your luggage and give the stuff back to their rightful owners.”
Mrs. P stopped blowing kisses to Edvard and gave Sophea a sour look. “You have no sense of fun. I hope your man takes care of your needs so that you aren’t so cranky all the time.”
Sophea gaped at her for a few seconds before transferring her astounded expression to Rowan.
He gave her a smile, and without realizing it, said, “Let me know if you need cheering up.”
“I… you…” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you just proposition me?”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Apparently I did. Or rather, my mouth did. Wholly without permission, I should add. I’m desperately tired, you see, and I think I’m at that stage where my brain has given up the ghost and is allowing me to say whatever I want without consideration of whether it’s appropriate or not. I humbly apologize, and hope you will forgive a sleep-deprived man for a careless thought.”
Sophea, to his surprise, did not continue glaring at him, nor did she read him the riot act that he deserved. Instead, a curious expression crossed her face, part amusement and part a wistful something that suddenly made him want to be heroic. “Apology accepted. I’m a bit jet-laggy, myself, and I know how it can be when your mouth runs off with you. And actually, you didn’t say anything offensive. At least, that part wasn’t offensive. The whole thing about me lying is another point.”
“You really don’t know that you’re a dragon’s mate?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“How can I be a dragon’s mate when my husband wasn’t a dragon?” Sophea asked with another little shake of her head. She gestured toward herself. “He was perfectly human-shaped. As am I. I know I’m not any great shakes so far as looks go—thank you for the compliment, by the way—but do I look like a giant scaly she-beast?”
He was silent for a moment, trying to prod his almost-numb brain into working. If she was telling the truth, and she didn’t know… He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “There is a test.”
“A test to see if I’m a scaly beast or not?” she asked, looking skeptical.
“Yes.” He took up the paper check that would allow them to sign for the meal, and dipped one corner of it into the candle in the center of the table.
“Really?” Sophea eyed the burning paper with evident worry. “It’s not going to be a Spanish Inquisition sort of—aiiieee!”
She screamed when he dropped the paper onto the palm of the hand he held, prepared to dash water over her hand if he was wrong.
The second the burning sheet hit her hand, there was a flash of red in her eyes, and instantly, the flames were extinguished.
“Great Caesar’s ghost!” Sophea said with an audible gasp.
Rowan released her hand and watched with tired satisfaction as she examined first the paper, then her hand, rubbing her thumb over her palm before looking up to him. “What just happened?”
“You are a dragon’s mate. That more or less makes you a dragon. Think of it as dragon lite. One of your abilities is to control fire. If you were not who you are, the fire might have burned your hand, although I did have my glass of water at the ready.”
“I can’t be a dragon,” she said, still rubbing her palm. “Or… what do you call it… a dragon’s mate.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because…” She glanced over at Mrs. P, who had succeeded in making a paper airplane out of a dollar bill, which she sailed over to Edvard, and was currently engaged in making two more. “Because they don’t exist.”
“Says who? Mortal beings? They do not know about dragonkin. And before you point out that you have neither scales nor a dragon body, let me inform you that dragons these days prefer human forms. In fact, you seldom see one as anything but a human. I gather it makes it easier to do things like drive a car and play a video game, not to mention keeps down the number of curious scientists and their vivisection kits. You, Sophea Long, were married to a dragon who looked just like any other man, but he wasn’t. And that means you aren’t what you appear. You are immortal, can control fire, and are quite possibly the only one of your kind left, since I understand all the red dragons were destroyed or demonized into new forms.”
Sophea sat with her mouth open while he gave his little speech, finally snapping her jaw shut to say in a voice filled with wonder, “I’m a dragon’s mate? Jian was a dragon? A real dragon?”