Page 42 of Kenna's Dragon

A quick montage of images from last night flickers through my mind. Blair, with his golden eyes looking back at me in the dim of the bar. Blair, stripping his jacket off in my bedroom. Blair, leaving with that damned arrogant smile on his lips, knowing full well he could have had me any way he wanted.

Fran opens her mouth to speak again, but I cut her off before she can.

“Let me plead the fifth on this one?”

She nods and gives me a wry smile. “Fair enough. No more cross-examination.”

The rest of breakfast passes uneventfully. I get up and leave the kitchen after I’m finished eating, letting everyone else stay to re-hash last night and talk about their Sunday plans.

Any other day I’d be perfectly content to sit and chat, but today I’m feeling restless.

Back in my room, I get dressed and pull on my coat. I only have a half-formed destination in mind, but I need to get out of this house for a while.

“Be back later,” I call as I unlock the front door, and a chorus of voices from the kitchen sends me off.

Heathens they may be, but they’remyheathens, even when they’re annoying the shit out of me.

It’s raining a little as I walk to the bus stop, and I pull my hood up over my head. Sitting down on the bus a few minutes later, I pop one headphone in my ear and watch the neighborhood streets pass by the window, not really seeing any of it.

No, my mind is still completely occupied reliving my night with Blair. The way his hands and body felt against mine, the way he tasted, all the things he said to me.

Oh, my god. The things he said last night.

It was humiliating, mortifying, and I should be mad as all hell he treated me like that,embarrassedme like that… and that damned dildo. I should have never bought it in the first place, but the things he did to me with it…

My stomach tightens with warm, squirmy heat.

God help me, I liked it.

Why did I like it?

Wracking my brain, I try to imagine any of my previous boyfriends or sexual partners treating me like that. For a few, I would have punched them straight in the face before letting them pull that shit. With a few others, it would have just been awkward as hell. And for absolutely none of them can I imagine responding the way I did with Blair—submitting to his demands, enjoying the way he teased and taunted me, the control he took over my body…

I don’t evenlikehim. He’s arrogant and brutish and cold.

Except for when he’s burning, and bringing me right into the blaze with him.

God, I’m so screwed.

I think I’d feel better about it if he’d gotten off, too. If he’d made a move to fuck me, I would have let him without a second thought. If he’d used my body for his own pleasure rather than focusing only on making me come, maybe I could be more mad about him leaving. Maybe I wouldn’t have one singular, restless, uncomfortable question that I can’t shake.

What does he want from me?

He apparently doesn’t want a hook-up, and he doesn’t see me as his mate. He obviously knows how completely batshit it is for him to be involved with a Bureau employee as Director, so… what? What else is there? What the hell is he thinking and why is he making all of this more confusing than it needs to be?

All those thoughts rattle around in my brain for the rest of my bus ride, and I’m no closer to any kind of answer as I step off onto the sidewalk.

I don’t usually bother coming downtown on my days off, but the bus ride felt worth it today to be somewhere I could be surrounded by people and yet completely alone. It’s one of my favorite feelings in the world, being a part of all that movement and life, without feeling the pressure to engage with it.

I stroll through Pike Place Market, enjoying the noise and the crowd and everything to see and smell. Fresh flowers and piles of produce. Fish on ice and delicious smells wafting over from the food stalls. Plenty of little trinkets and art and jewelry I pass by, but leave without buying since I’m saving all my brand new adult money.

Leaving the market, I walk a few blocks to my next destination, still enjoying the wonderful anonymity and having some uninterrupted time to think.

Pulling open the door to the Seattle Public Library, I step inside and inhale the familiar scent of books. The space is open and bright and modern, and it’s one of my favorite places to tuck myself away for a little while.

I pass through the busier main lobby, take an elevator up a few floors, and find a quiet table by a wall of windows to set up.

Just being out and about in Seattle isn’t my only objective today.

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