Page 12 of To Ignite a Dragon's Desire

Willow would be proud of me.

Later, I’d process how twisted things were getting. Just as soon as I was clean.

∞

One long, luxurious soak later, I stood wrapped in a fluffy towel holding my clothes in the air. My skin had never felt smoother. Those lavender bath salts were magic. I didn’t want to waste how good I felt by putting on dirty underwear.

I tiptoed out of the bathroom, pushing open the door to the conjoining bedroom that I’d woken up in.

The bed was made with the down duvet fluffed and wrinkle-free. Frowning, I made my way to my purse. It was where I’d left it on the chair and my phone was still dead. Lucan must’ve cleaned up the bedroom, but I guess he hadn’t had any luck finding a charger.

I made sure the door was locked and then searched for something to wear. I didn’t know what I was hoping for. Maybe a guest-bedroom robe I could put on while I tossed my clothes into the wash.

The top dresser drawer was all men’s boxers and socks. Panic tickled its way down my spine as I opened the second drawer to see T-shirts folded in a stack. I looked back to the bed, swallowing hard.

Did we sleep together?

I honestly couldn’t remember anything about last night. That wasn’t like me. I hardly ever slept. But I didn’t feel different or sore anywhere I shouldn’t have.

It’d been a long time since I’d gotten laid, so I’d know if things were… used.

I’d assumed this was a guest room this morning, especially after I’d gone to this bathroom at Lucan’s suggestion. But this was definitely his bedroom. Now that I knew what he smelled like—campfire and s’mores—it made sense why the scent was so strong in here.

None of his clothes were going to fit, but I grabbed a T-shirt from the drawer anyway. The dragon-man folded his shirts. If that didn’t scream psycho red-flag then my male-o-meter was broken.

Okay, it’d been broken.

That was beside the point.

The vintage shirt was deliciously smooth as it settled against my newly moisturized skin. I debated on grabbing a pair of his boxers, but that seemed too intimate and gave the wrong idea—like I was the kind of girl who was okay sleeping with a strange man in his bed.

Spoiler: I wasn’t.

I grabbed my purse and dead phone on the way out of the bedroom, intending to set some boundaries. If I was going to be kidnapped, then I had demands.

Yes, I knew I was slowly losing my grip on reality. In my defense, it’d been a hard few years.

It’d been a hard few decades, actually.

The house seemed empty. Everything was too clean and too quiet. A gentle harp-like music played at soft volume on the TV.

He is definitely a murderer.

The French doors to the back patio were cracked open. I thought about exploring the house more, but headed for freedom instead, testing the limits of this hostage situation.

He had gardens. As in plural. Romantic flower gardens with a bird bath and stone bench lined the patio, stretching out into an overflowing vegetable garden sowed in rows down the hill.

I marched past them, not stopping to smell the literal roses.

My bare feet barely felt the rocks and dirt as I walked out of the gardens, checking over my shoulder every so often as I kept walking up the hill.

When I reached the top, I realized why Lucan hadn’t bothered to lock me inside.

Miles and miles of open mountain range sloped around the property. There was a crystal lake and sparse trees in a valley dip leading past a winding two-lane road, but nothing else as far as the eye could see.

Lucan’s house sat like its own ecosystem tucked away in the mountains. The lush gardens surrounded the modern, angled structure.

Solar panels lined the top half of the house, making room for a solid landing pad-like roof. It was a smaller version of the one Kieran had.

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