Page 3 of The Silver Spider
He stalkedher around the ballroom, keeping just out of the line of her vision. Ignoring the fact that stalking her was psychotic at worst, questionable at best. But he knew the woman was up to something. He’d tried simply parking himself at her shoulder, but she’d turned and hissed at him, the little, silver spiders studded along her clothing like jewels—he pitied any poor male, who thought those things were ever decoration—turning with eerie synchronicity and looking at him. They didn’t have eyes, but they were looking.
So, he backed away, hands raised, fangs carefully tucked in his mouth. They’d retreated by instinct at the hiss, and the threat of her little minions. Kailigh watched with amusement and Nuaddan simply stared from the chair he occupied—their father’s chair, but Maddugh ignored his eldest son’s breach of protocol. The fact that Nuaddan had emerged from his forest cave was enough for now.
Maddugh, damn him, had the ten-piece musical group strike up a rowdy jig. They’d learned dancing from humans, the Travelers, during the first few years on earth. In fact, Amnan knew his people owed the Travelers a debt that hadn’t yet been repaid for their help in acclimating to the environment, teaching the dragons that humans were not just talking meat, but dangerous. Too many of his people had died mistaking two-leggers as simple prey.
Serephone glanced over her shoulder right at him, smiled, and stepped into the crowd of gathered dancers. Maddugh had opened the doors of the castle two hours ago to let in townspeople, and anyone who wished to enjoy the post ceremony festivities. He’d have to talk to his father about that. The wench disappeared, the mask of twirling and laughing, not-quite-sober bodies disguising her retreat.
She was playing with him. He tamped down the instinct to hunt. Hard, sometimes, to restrain his true nature and cage himself in the two-legged form. A dragon female would have known better, than to challenge him in that way—would have known she was issuing an unmistakable invitation. He admired his father’s restraint in courting Kailigh, but then Maddugh was old, and canny. He knew how to approach his prey from the side and pounce when it least expected it.
Poor Kai. She thought she had Maddugh managed, but she’d learn soon enough.
Amnan watched for a slender figure clad in a black, velvet jacket over a deep purple gown that swished around her legs as if it was a skirt and not cleverly cut trousers. And became suspicious when he couldn’t find her, not even by scent.
So, the slippery wench wanted to play? They would play, and he would enjoy it. But, he would be careful with her.
