Page 68 of Nine-Tenths

For the first time, there's a corona of red around Dav’s pupils. His hard gaze looksalien.And I'm not going to show how much this surprises me, I'm not taking a step back, because that's my motherfuckingboyfriendright there, wholovesme, and I am not gonna look scared of him—bescared of him—in front of people who've treated him as expendable.

"Stand down, Alva," Simcoe says.

Dav bristles.

"Lord, yourtemper," Simcoe chuckles with a self-satisfied smirk.

I want to punch him. And I'm upset enough not to think about what might happen to me if Idomanage to punch Lieutenant Governor Francis Simcoe, representative of Elizabeth Regina in her colony and effectively the power behind the human Prime Minister. He'd probably rip my hand off at the wrist andeatit for daring to touch him.

"It wasn't supposed to go this far," Dav growls softly.

"You always say that, my friend, and then it always does."

"I've stopped."

"Damn straight you have."

"There's no need for—"

"I say what there is a need for!" Simcoe roars.

Dav snaps to a swift attention, legs together, chin and chest thrust out. The only thing missing is the salute. Silence descends—heavy, fearful, angry, and shamed.

I want to scream.

I want to stand between Dav and these people who are supposed to be his family, but speak to him like he's a criminal. Instead I fidget, sliding my hands into my back pockets, shifting from side to side, filled with energy I can't, Iwon'tlash out with. I don't know what the hell is going on. And knowing me and my comedic karmatic butterfingers, anything I do right now will probably make it worse.

"You neverlearn, Alva," Simcoe says at length, like he's talking to a kid with a disappointing report card. "Your foolish idealism has gotten the better of you again."

Dav’s chin drops. "You can't compare Colin to her."

"I'm not the one doing so."

Dav sucks in a sharp breath, like he's been slapped.

What the fuck is happening.

I wish I could ask. I wish I could take Dav's hand, squeeze it, show him I’m here, beside him in the shit, like I promised. There's a power struggle happening here that I can't fathom, and if Dav wants to make a statement about who we are to each other, I have to let him make the first move.

He raises his head, finally, meeting the impassive, unimpressed gaze of each of the dragons around the room, one by one. Dav looks to Simcoe last. Simcoe clucks his tongue impatiently.

"Colin," Dav says slowly, softly. "I left something in the Murder Basement."

I know an excuse when I hear it, but I'm not stupid enough to say so out loud.

Dav and I make our way to the door, uninterrupted but watched. I get the creepy feeling that someone is about to shoot out a sticky tongue to reel me back and chomp me up.

"What did you leave?" I whisper, when we're in Hadi’s office. It's creepy as heck with the lights off. Dav closes the door and we’re suddenly in absolutely pitch black. At least to my human eyes.

"It's not something I have left." He crowds me against the desk. "It's something I'd like to leave."

"What?" I ask, following the sound of his voice, the direction of his warmth. The cold worry that has been churning in my guts frosts into my extremities, solidifying into shards of fear in my blood, racing like shrapnel toward my heart. "You said you might be in trouble, but I didn't expect—"

"Nor I," he admits, breathless, harried. "But I ought to have."

"What did you want to leave?" I ask. "Something you think will upset them? Or—"

"This. Colin I—" His hands scoop under my ass and in an impressive show of draconic strength, I'm suddenly sitting on the desktop and he's sliding in between my knees, mouth on mine.

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