Page 59 of Kenna's Dragon

I hum low in my throat, imagining for a moment what it would be like to stride through the Bureau’s front door holding Ewan’s hand. Absurd. Absolutely absurd.

“Fine,” I relent, snuggling closer into him and drawing another low rumble of pleasure from his chest. “Works for me.”

A few minutes later his breathing evens back out. As mine slows down to match it, I try not to concentrate on how nice this feels. Here, safe, laying with him tucked away from the world.

It’s nice. That’s it. Warm, cozy, nice. He’s tired and fuck-drunk and wanted to be polite. It’s late, and it doesn’t mean anything more that he asked me to say.

His words from earlier ring through my head again.I can’t offer you anything… more than this.

Apparentlythisalso includes some post-sex snuggles, and that’s fine. All of this is fine. For now. What happens tomorrow or next week or a month from now doesn’t matter. I’ve accepted that, and there’s no use in being anything but honest with myself about it.

Still, I can’t make myself regret anything that happened. Even as sleep pulls me under, and even as some part of me worries that for as long as I live I might never get enough of this, enough of him, that no one else might ever compare, there’s no part of me that would take it back.

Whatever’s waiting for me in the ashes, for now I’m content to burn.

24

Blair

Kenna’s door closes behind her as she hops out of my car a few blocks away from the Bureau. Even though she gives me a small smile and a jaunty wave as she turns and starts heading up the street, some part of me still recoils in shame, leaving her like this.

The windows of my Mercedes are tinted dark enough that if anyone tried to peer in they couldn’t see me. It protects me, while exposing her, and every instinct I have screams at me it’s wrong, shameful, dishonorable to her.

Gods above, what am I doing?

By all technicalities we’re on the same page. We know what this is and what it isn’t. There are no promises between us, no expectations. Nothing but the indulgence of the heat we both feel, the inexplicable conflagration that’s sprung up between us.

I should have let her go last night. I should have pretended I was asleep, let her get dressed and creep out of my bedroom like she was fully prepared to do when I stopped her.

But the idea of that felt even worse than this does.

Thinking of her leaving, letting her go like what we’d shared meant nothing, it wasn’t something I could stomach.

Even now, when I watch her disappear around the corner with the hood of her jacket pulled up to protect from the light drizzle of morning rain, I still feel the imprint of her skin on mine. I can still smell her, too. The sharp spice of her scent lingers in the car and on my clothing as I pull back out onto the street and drive the short distance to the Bureau.

I grabbed a bottle of spray that’s supposed to neutralize scent and brought it with me, but even as I give myself a few quick sprays in the parking garage before heading inside, I’m not sure it’s doing much to mask her scent.

No, Kenna Byrne seems to be infused into my skin and bones, clinging to the fabric of my being as I grab my briefcase from the backseat and head inside.

It’s fortunate that not all paranormals have as keen senses of smell as shifters, vampires, and a few other creatures, but I’m not taking any chances as I give everyone I pass a wide berth and head quickly up to my office.

I’ve just hung up my coat and settled in behind my desk when my office door opens with my first meeting of the morning.

Cleo stops just inside the room, nostrils flaring, and I bite back a curse.

“Good morning,” I say, looking back down at the pile of papers on my desk.

She crosses the room, arching a skeptical brow as she sits down. “I would ask you about it, but I’m trusting that it’s still—”

“Handled,” I finish for her with a decisive nod. “Yes, it is.”

“Great. Glad to hear it.”

Ready to put the topic behind us, I lean back in my chair and nod toward the door. “Is Ophelia on her way up?”

Cleo cracks a smile. “Yes, she is. She was chomping at the bit when I called her last night.”

With the visit from HHS still looming and no indication it’s going to go well, I gave Cleo the green light to bring Ophelia in for a chat, and she’s stopping by the Bureau this morning to be briefed on her next assignment. It’s sensitive, risky, and there are very few people on the Bureau’s payroll I would trust to handle it with as much skill and discretion as Ophelia will.

---