Page 38 of The Last Slayer
Was he stupid? Or just uncaring? “What if they were home?”
He sighed. “If it eases your mind, I don’t believe anybody was there.” He turned and looked out the window. “Ashera, I must do what’s best for you. That was my vow, and I intend to keep it.”
“Blowing up my place is what’s best for me?” I began shaking. I’d done everything I could to turn that place into a home, someplace I could call my own. My condo might have looked like a shelter for the homeless compared to Besade, but that didn’t give Ramiel the right to destroy it. I felt like crying. But that wasn’t an option. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing me in tears. “Thanks a lot, asshole.”
He merely looked at me over his shoulder. But a tinge of sorrow added a luminous sheen to the deep green of his eyes, and that made me want to trust him.
My god, snap out of it. I was an idiot if all it took to thwart reason and logic was sex appeal and good looks. I should know better than to fall for that, given my experience. When men gave me that look, it meant they wanted something I wasn’t willing to give. Like an introduction to Valerie, or a job at the firm.
“If you truly wish to leave, I shall oblige you,” Ramiel said.
“Believe me, my wish to leave couldn’t be more true.”
“Very well. We will see each other again soon.”
A crushing pressure flattened me. I gasped, feeling like I was being squeezed by an anaconda. Electricity crawled over my skin, and I had to clench my teeth not to hurl what I’d eaten at Besade. Ramiel, you bastard. My vision started to dim. Maybe everything really had been a trap. I tried to summon my magic, but it was impossible.
Too late…
Suddenly the pressure and the currents disappeared. I blinked and found myself back at the main TriMedica building.
Son of a bitch. I’d never teleported before—the art of teleportation has been lost since at least the Assyrians—but I was sure it wasn’t supposed to hurt this much.
People around me stopped what they were doing and gawked. Andersen was coming my way across the lawn, crushing the grass with his spit-shined shoes. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Nice to see you again too,” I wheezed, shaking as I rose to my feet. Ramiel hadn’t had the courtesy to repair my clothes or clean me up.
Actually, forget the clothes. He owed me a new home.
“Did you get the book?” Andersen said.
“Ah, no. My, ah, condo exploded.” This tends to be a conversation stopper. “I think the fire department is there now.”
“Hell of a day.”
I nodded. As much as I wanted to rant about my horrific day and how much I hated Ramiel, it wasn’t the time or the place. “And there was another wyrm.”
“We heard. Did it come after you?”
“How else would I end up looking like this?”
He stared at me intently. “I guess the wyrm looks worse though, huh?”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to take credit when I hadn’t actually made the kill—it’s a matter of professional etiquette—but I didn’t want to announce to the world that there had been a fourth dragonlord in the Washington, DC, metropolitan area. Let Andersen interpret it any way he liked.
“So where’s the Triumvirate?” I said.
“Gone. They left not too long after you did.”
It figured. But if Ramiel was correct—and I refused to believe that he was, for the time being—they would be back.
“Anyone else hurt? I mean, aside from…you know. Patterson.”
“No. Once you left, the dragonlords lost interest in our proposal. Just talked among themselves, then took off.”
The gray eyes boring into mine told me exactly who he blamed. “Where’s Valerie?”
“She’s inspecting the wardings around the premises. Just in case.”
