Page 18 of Burn for the Dragon
“Perhaps it was a bird.”
Nervousness momentarily forgotten, she snort-laughed. “It wasn’t a bird.”
Hawke uncrossed his arms and put his hands on either side of his hips, gripping the railing. “And what do you know about vampires and dragons, Everly?”
“I know you are one of those things. And I think I know which one. I’m just not sure how the other comes into play.” She held her breath.
He pushed off of the railing. “I think it’s time you invite me in.”
Chapter 9
“Are you going to hurt me?” The words were less than a whisper.
Hawke felt like she’d just stabbed him in the heart. “Of course not. I just think we need to continue talking inside, where listening ears won’t hear us.” Her heart was beating an uneven staccato, and he could smell her fear souring her natural sweet scent. He tried to lighten the mood. “And because I can’t look at you anymore in that ridiculous outfit without thinking of Julia Roberts. Please, go change.”
She glanced down at herself, running her hands over her stomach and hips like she’d forgotten what she was wearing. Hawke tried to swallow over the burning thirst in his throat. He’d totally lied just now. He loved what she was wearing, or rather, what she wasn’t wearing. Her legs were strong and curvy and looked like they were a mile long in those shorts, and the tops of her exposed breasts begged him to sink his fangs into the soft flesh.
In all honesty, it was a nice distraction. Hawke was feeling a bit unsettled. He’d gotten out of Parasupe by the skin of his teeth. Leaving the dragon shifter in his cell, he’d gotten back outside without raising any alarms. Then, distracted by the male and who or what he was to Everly, he’d very nearly run smack into one of the guards. Changing direction from one breath to the next, he’d paused briefly to get his bearings and a camera had zeroed in on him, red light flashing in distress. Multiple walkie-talkies had all gone off at the same time, and he’d realized he was surrounded by guards, though they hadn’t spotted him yet. A second later, sirens went off inside the building and he heard multiple pairs of boots running his way. Someone shouted orders. Keeping his head down and his face out of view, Hawke tossed the body parts and ran for his life.
When he reached his car, he drove south as far as he could and then pulled into a parking garage to wait out the day in the trunk. When he awoke, he’d come straight here. Sitting in the parking lot of Everly’s building, he’d gotten on his phone and soon had a name for the owner of the apartments. Lucky for him, the couple lived just a few streets away. A quick visit and he had their invitation to enter any apartment he wanted.
However, he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Everly he would never do that. Not only was it rude, it was an invasion of her privacy.
Everly raised her eyes to his.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Everly. I just want to talk.”
She took a deep breath, the movement expanding her chest and pushing her breasts against her shirt. “Come on in.”
Hawke stood frozen as he was. He’d heard her invitation, and even though he could’ve waltzed inside any damn time he’d wanted to, the sound of the words coming out of her mouth was the beginning of something he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. Because since the first moment he’d seen her, Hawke felt as though he’d been hurtling through space and time, arms and legs flailing, trying desperately to stop the momentum that had brought him to this exact moment.
This wondrous moment.
He stepped over the threshold and was immediately bombarded with the colors and smells and sounds of everything that was Everly.
“I’ll be right back.”
Hawke watched her walk to the back of her apartment, immensely relieved he had a few minutes to compose himself. He heard her rustling around in some drawers, then heard the click and lock of a door.
Something rubbed against his legs. Looking down, he saw the cat he’d met the previous night had followed him inside. Hawke picked up the feline and set him gently on the small, round table just outside the door. Then he went back inside and closed the door behind him.
While Everly was getting changed, he wandered around the small space, too jacked up to sit. A large, worn, L-shaped couch took up the entire wall left of the door. It was covered in so many blankets and pillows that it was impossible to tell what color the sofa’s material was. But if Hawke had to guess, he would say something dull like gray or brown. Hence Everly’s need to brighten it up with a rainbow of colored accents. To the right of the door across from the couch was a rickety stand with a small TV balanced on it. Through a cutout in the wall in front of him, he could see the kitchen, too small for more than one person at a time to make use of. Mismatched pots and pans hung from hooks in the ceiling above a counter covered in every type of modern cooking convenience being sold: a microwave, rice cooker, bread maker, and mixer. But the dishes were clean and neatly stacked in the drying rack and the stovetop was wiped clean. There was no dishwasher. There wasn’t room.
Everly returned to find him fingering a tapestry of the moon and stars hanging beside the window. She had changed into a pair of blue lounge pants and held a fuzzy purple sweater closed over her chest. Her hair was down and most of the makeup had been scrubbed from her face. “So, let’s talk.”
To hide the fact that her current outfit did nothing at all to make it easier to be around her, Hawke glanced around the room until his eyes landed on the couch. “Would you like to sit?” Then he could’ve kicked himself. He was treating her like a guest in her own home. “I’m sorry. This is your?—”
“Yeah.” She went over to the smaller part of the “L” and sat, tucking her hands between her knees as she waited expectantly for him to join her.
Taking off his jacket, Hawke folded it so the blood was on the inside and laid it across the arm. He chose a spot that wasn’t too crowded with pillows and sat down gingerly. The couch was surprisingly comfortable. He leaned back, his muscles relaxing a bit, and rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs. There was a good four feet between them, but she may as well be sitting on his lap for all the good it did. Hawke tried to focus on the reason he’d rushed over, but now that he was here, confronted with the realness of this woman, the steam appeared to have dispersed.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
Her question. What question had that been? Ah, yes. “Only if you answer one of mine.”
She immediately agreed. “Deal.”
“Who is the male, Everly?”
