Page 2 of Klaus

“You don’t think a lion will be strong enough to protect the clan?”

“You know I do,” I growled, as the lion roused deep inside my consciousness and let me know just what he thought about her digs.

Naturally, I understood what my less rational side couldn’t possibly, that she’d only made that comment in order to rouse the beast within me, to inspire me to go along with her wishes in order to prove my strength.

“I believe all will be well, now that the dragons have their immunity to iron. And, of course, now that they know of the danger which may be around them. It could be that they became complacent after so many centuries of peace, not to mention the fact that humans now regard tales of the dragons as mere myth.”

“I can see how that would happen. The dragons know better now.”

“Yes. They do. I only hope they’re able to return to some likeness of a normal life out there, that they won’t spend eternity watching for an enemy which may no longer exist.”

“It’s better to be prepared for the worst, than to be surprised by it,” I pointed out.

“I agree. You know we’re of the same mind. Even so, I dislike thinking of them looking over their shoulders all the time. I’m sure with you there, it’ll go a lot smoother for them.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might say no?”

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair with her hands folded over her abdomen. “I can’t say that it did. Because I knew you wouldn’t. Because, once again, I trust you to help me do the right thing.”

She always did know how to word things.

The lion growled, deep within me. He didn’t enjoy being told what to do, though we’d come to an understanding on this, long since. If we wanted to survive and I wanted to live with any semblance of civility, certain compromises needed to be made.

Learning to take orders rather than giving them was one major, painful, thorny compromise with which I still experienced resistance now and again.

No sense in delaying the inevitable. “What time are we leaving, then?”

“The jet will go wheels-up at 0600 tomorrow,” she announced.

“Naturally. The earlier, the better.” Rising that early had never been one of my favorite aspects of life under Mary’s protection. One more pre-dawn wake-up call for the road, I supposed. Knowing her, she found it amusing.

At least she managed to conceal her mirth.

Instead of going to the room which had been mine for the duration of our stay at the resort, and rather than offer assistance to the men who continued to board the building up as a means of protecting it against the elements, I walked out to the beach.

If I had to say goodbye to it and spend untold amounts of time living beneath ancient mountains, I wanted to spend as much time as possible enjoying its beauty.

The white sand was hot under my bare feet as I strolled along the water’s edge, allowing gentle waves to lap at my toes. The clearest water I’d ever seen. The purest sand. Palm trees swayed in the breeze which carried the scent of tropical flowers and the lush, dense jungle that covered the mountains in the near distance.

Paradise. I’d enjoyed my time here more than I’d enjoyed any of the other locations I’d traveled to while in Mary’s service. Who wouldn’t? A morning swim had become part of my daily routine, so much so that I felt slightly off-center for the rest of the day whenever I didn’t take at least a quick dip.

Scotland would certainly be a lot of fun. But I would adjust to the change in scenery, as always, and I would find other ways to test my body and burn off any pent-up energy. Even if I had to take up mountain climbing.

There would be plenty of mountains to climb once I arrived.

There was a curve in the shoreline, a profusion of trees which created a private cove of sorts. It was often where I chose to enter the water, the trees providing shelter against prying eyes.

I’d never been shy about my physique before—far from it—but there were females present after the liberation of the dragons in the underground lab, and it was for their sake that I attempted to exercise modesty.

One more swim before wheels-up, I decided, parting a pair of wild shrubs and stepping through.

Someone had beaten me to it.

There was a thin, white, linen dress lying on the sand. The way it had been carefully arranged told me much about the dress’s owner, thoughtful, deliberate, not prone to wild flights of fancy the way a balled-up, crumpled garment would indicate.

I looked to my left, where the water stretched as far as the eye could see. A flash of a reddish-blonde head popped up over the surface, but that told me little. Most of the Scottish dragon shifter women had red hair, or some shade of reddish brown, or reddish blonde.

Whoever she was, she and I were of a mind. We’d both decided to come out for one more indulgence.

I couldn’t help watching as she stroked effortlessly through the waves, strength and grace combined. Her pale skin made a striking contrast to the blue of the sea and sky.

When she came to a stop, dipping her head backward in the water to smooth her hair away from her face, I recognized her for the first time.

Ainsley.

We hadn’t spent much time together. I hadn’t spent time with any of the Scottish dragons aside from the few minutes we’d shared after their liberation, but she struck me as a rather flighty thing.

Which was in contrast to the careful way in which she’d arranged her dress on the sand. Was I that poor a judge of character? Or did I simply place too much stock in what was likely a thoughtless gesture?

Rather than leaving, pretending I hadn’t accidentally come across her clandestine swim, I decided to take a seat on the sand. Better to get to know each other sooner rather than later, I decided.

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