Page 16 of Dragon's Desire

She hated the things he said to her before—his constant sexual harassment—she still hated it. But, for some reason, seeing him flirt with someone else caused her stomach to tie in knots. They needed to solve this and fast. Not just for the sake of the people of the city and beyond, but because she was starting to wonder what she might actually do if given the chance.

Why now? What changed?

She thought she understood him now, at least a little better than before. He was a man hurting. He dealt with it the entirely wrong way, but it came out of a pain she wouldn't have been able to understand and felt like she never wanted to.

Just the thought of losing her parents felt like a cold dagger in her heart. She would have considered therapy a better option than becoming a lecherous asshole, but everyone grieved in their own way.

When she slid into the passenger seat, she turned to him and said, "I'm sorry to hear about your mother and father."

"What?" Peter asked.

"If you need to take some time or need someone to talk to—"

"Don't—" he gripped the steering wheel and hunched over it. His body started to shake. Then he burst out laughing. She sat there looking at him, wondering if he was in hysterics or something. He was gasping for air. Then he wiped a tear away from his eye, took a deep breath, and said, "My parents are both fine. But did you see the look on his face?" He started laughing again.

Kiercy's jaw dropped. Her mind struggled to figure out if he was lying now or then. When he whirled on her in there, the look of anger seemed so genuine. Had he just been that upset because someone called his mother a whore? Or was it all just an act?

But she had to admit, as emotionally manipulative as it was, it did work. It threw that other, much larger guy off balance, and he took advantage of the situation. He was clever. The worst part was he knew it. Does it count as arrogance if it's true?

"Don't go leaving your mouth open like that too long unless it's an invitation.

She closed her mouth so fast her teeth clanked together.

"I can't believe I actually felt sorry for you," she said.

"Oh, well, it's nice to know you care, darling." He signed, still catching his breath from his bout of laughter.

"Don't call me darling. I'll be sure to never make that mistake again."

"Good. Let's make a whole new kind of mistake together."

"Do you have to turn everything into a sexual innuendo?" she asked.

"I can't help it if you're just easy pickings."

Then she thought of something.

"Arthur wants targets. If he's trying to sow chaos, he'll want a target-rich environment. Easy pickings," she said, trying to mock his southern accent. "We need a place a lot of people would gather."

"But somewhere, you wouldn't stick out," he added. "If you stand up in a movie theater, people are going to tell you to sit your ass down. Somewhere you can move. Blend in."

As much she hated it, they were started to ride the same wavelength. Even if it did come out of his being a complete and utter disgusting asshole.

"Noisy. Crowed."

"We could check out local sex clubs?" he suggested with a grin. "Or strip joints."

"Then you'd be easy pickings."

He laughed. "Maybe. I do like the ladies."

Again there was the annoying twinge of jealousy. Her parents might not have died, but she was starting to wonder if she needed therapy. She needed to get control of whatever thought process it was making her envious of the other woman he leered at but absolutely disgusted when he did it to her.

She pulled up her phone and did a quick search. Not for a therapist. That would be was something to look into later. Right now, she had a job to do.

She didn't have much of a social life at times. Work tended to suck up so much of her time. But she always meant to make more time for it. So she connected online and observed the social scene for that magical tomorrow she'd eventually get to.

There were a few events going on that might work. Someone had blasted out across social media about an all shifter rave. There was supposed to be some fantastic DJ handling the music. Some masked, wordless DJ that used the mystery of their identity as part of their allure.

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