He turned back to the book he held, leaving me feeling oddly bereft.
The blush I had been working on faded as I stared at the back of his head, admitting that it was just too bad I wasn’t going to see Mr. Bracelet Thief again. Those cool gray-green eyes combined with an air of mystery left my mind wandering down all sorts of paths, and not all of them were rated PG.
Two
There were red dragons everywhere.
“Just what I need—competition,” Rowan said under his breath.
His gaze moved along the two lines of people queued up to go through passport control, counting no fewer than three red dragons, including the woman named Sophea.
Not red dragons, he mentally corrected himself. They were red dragon–demon hybrids. His sister, Bee, informed him that there were only a handful of non-demonic red dragons left alive, of whom Sophea was clearly one. His gaze paused on her as she assisted her elderly charge into sitting down on a walking stick that converted into a tri-legged seat. If he didn’t know why Sophea was helping the old lady, he’d have been fooled into thinking she was exactly what she appeared: a thoughtful, helpful caretaker assisting a woman in need.
She looked every bit her part—of mixed Asian descent, she had shoulder-length glossy black hair, cut in wispy layers that seemed to catch every light breeze. The long strands would occasionally caress the soft pink of her cheeks, making his fingers itch with the need to brush the hair back where it belonged. It looked smooth as silk, that hair, and he wondered what it would feel like trailing across his bare chest.
He frowned at the sudden erotic image. Where had that come from? Certainly it was true that Sophea was a pretty woman—with warm brown eyes that made him think of the dark, hidden depths in a pond; a heart-shaped face; and curves that would drive a saint mad with desire—who would no doubt attract admiration wherever she went, and yet, that did not mean he had to watch her so diligently.
Another strand of her hair flicked in the air, disturbed by a custom officer passing by Sophea. Rowan desperately wanted to brush his fingers across the soft curve of her cheek.
Stop it, he told himself. You’re acting like a randy stallion. Focus on what’s important, and remember that she’s a dragon, and thus the enemy.
Still, there was the episode on the plane with the demon-dragon who had made a bold attempt on the old woman. That was puzzling until he realized that Sophea clearly wasn’t working with her demon kin… or perhaps she had been, but changed her mind and decided to keep the old lady to herself.
The line shuffled forward a few feet at the same time that his phone burbled a notice that someone had texted him.
Did you find the ring yet? the text from his sister Bee read. We can’t do anything until you have broken it.
How do you expect me to get this all-important ring when eight hours ago I didn’t know it existed? he texted back, tiredly rubbing his eyes. For what it’s worth, you were right and the old woman was on the flight to Munich. I’m watching her now.
Two minutes later Bee texted back an answer. For all that’s good in this world, steal the ring from her!
I’m not a thief, he answered somewhat angrily. I don’t relish stealing things from a nice old lady. If you wanted the ring so badly, why didn’t you get it yourself?
It had to be the exhaustion making him so snappish, he thought absently as he waited for Bee’s response. It came almost immediately.
She’s not a nice old lady—she stole that ring from Bael. She’s got to be some sort of badass who-knows-what to do that. And we’d get it if we could, but we’re working on locating the sword Bael has hidden somewhere in Russia. Besides, you owe the dragons. GET THE RING ASAP!
Rowan rolled his eyes and put his phone in his pocket before he was tempted to text back something rude. He noticed that Sophea and the old lady—who was going by some impossibly long name—were nearing the front of the customs line. It was just his luck that he had picked the slower line. At least the other two red dragon–demons were three people behind his target.
Ten minutes later, he was free of customs and hurrying through the crowds at the airport, his eyes scanning for the figures of the two women. They had a head start on him, but given how slowly the old lady was moving and the fact that they’d have to get their luggage, he had hope of catching up to them.