Chapter Five

The man that carefully crafted a smorgasbord of food looked up at her as though he might eat her instead. The thought crossed her mind that it might not be that awful to let him, but she carefully reminded herself that messing with the affairs of dragons was not smart.

The one sitting on her floor claimed to be there with the intent on seducing her. What else would he be doing in her small apartment on a rutting night? Dragon men were brimming with testosterone that made them fight and growl at everything if they didn’t put their cock in something every once in a while. Trapping them on the Territories hadn’t helped any of them find their mates, making them fuck much more selfishly. Knowing they weren’t going to find love between the legs of a one night stand, they took what they wanted and left.

Gwen didn’t know if that would be such a bad thing as she let her eyes trail over the lines the dragon man managed to cut. He was broad shouldered in a way that made him seem almost lean while still having the bulk of a dragon. His posture was great for a barbarian, she noted. Especially as he looked up at her from beneath his coppery hair and stole the breath from her lungs.

She could lay with this one for a night and then he would be gone by morning, leaving her alone to finally flee the fate that waited for her. She reached forward and plucked a red strawberry from the board, knowing full well that it would leave her lips stained a dark pink.

She could play this game, too, she thought as his eyes followed the strawberry. There was a hunger in them that made her heart stutter. Fear spiked through her, but she kept it hidden.

Maybe she couldn’t play this game, she realized. Hopefully, once he realized he might not get what he came for he would go looking for it in other places.

Hopefully.

“Is this your plan?” she asked. “You sit on my floor and watch me eat? This is not very entertaining.”

He seemed to mull over her words, his eyes travelling over her apartment. Finally, his eyes seemed to catch something because he pushed himself up from the floor. She watched him pluck an acoustic guitar from the corner of the room. It was something that had come with the already furnished place. Yet, he sat himself at the end of the couch with the instrument in his lap, not once looking up at her as his fingers adjusted the strings.

When his fingers finally played over the strings, the chord that spilled out seemed to move through her. It made her feel something, in the back of her throat, that she couldn’t quite define. The music that he played filled her. It made her want to lay back and close her eyes. They were drifting shut when she remembered that she was alone with a dragon.

She had to keep her guard up. The magic that had faded at the beginning of his song returned to the tips of her fingers, ready to strike if need be. She couldn’t afford to let herself be tricked again. She knew that she was not the mate of any dragon. It wasn’t possible for a witch.

Her legs stretched out, and against her better judgement, her toes touched his denim clad leg. She felt his body tense, a recognition of her touch, just for a moment. He barely missed a beat. His fingers continued to thrum the beat from the acoustic guitar. Gwen wondered what it was about this music that made her more daring. Was it the way that it hummed through her core and warmed things that had been cold for decades? Or, was it this mysterious man whose name she hadn’t even bothered to learn yet?

It felt strangely more intimate to know that he was a dragon than it would be to know his name. She pondered if he could tell what she was, smell the herb magic that ran through her veins or the ozone that clung to her hair from more immediate magic? She guessed that it would be hard to ignore with a dragon’s nose. He had to know that she was a witch, but whether or not he knew that she was the Witch of Caernarfon was another story altogether.

His fingers stopped strumming. The music faded from the room and she looked up to meet his eyes. Her foot absently rubbed against the denim of his leg. She caught herself and forced her foot to still. His hand left the neck of the guitar and fell upon her bare leg. His skin was warm and softer than she imagined. It made her breath catch in her throat.

He leaned toward her and she felt her heart quicken, but there was no cold spike of fear behind it. She only felt the warmth of blood rushing to her cheeks. But, just as she thought he would close in, he leaned to the side and his fingers quickly snatched several rolls of cured meat before he leaned back into the couch. His eyes watched her carefully as he bit into the cured meat.

“Can I ask you what your name is? Or, is that a guarded secret like the rest of you?”

She looked out the window, her fingers laying over her lips to chase away the desire to let words better kept silent pour out. Weaving secrets around herself was a habit from days of old and her life on the run, one that probably kept her alive. Yet, she almost felt compelled to spill all of them at this man’s feet.

“Call me Gwen,” she told him, not looking away from the scene outside her window. Gwen was short for the full name that had been given to her upon birth, but it was always smarter to keep your true name a secret. Especially when one was a witch and knew the things that could happen when another knew your true name. “Should I continue to call you dragon man? Or, would you like another moniker?”

He laughed and it felt as though warm sunlight had filled her room. Her head snapped toward him, pulled like flowers to the sun. She swallowed hard, afraid of what she was suddenly feeling for this dragon. It wasn’t right. It was a lie.

“Cameron,” he said. “My brother likes to try to call me Cam from time to time, but I never let him get away with it.”

He took another bite of the rolled meat. She watched his lips move until she realized she was letting herself become mesmerized. It was the lack of sex, she told herself. It was finally getting to her now that she was alone in the presence of another male. She would jump any guy’s bones after being celibate this long.

“That was beautiful music, Cam,” she said, letting her lips twist into a wry smile. Magic wrapped around her fingers, ready to defend herself if his temper lashed out at her. She wasn’t smart for poking a dragon, but she needed to know if he was like the others. If he was like the last one.

But, he didn’t react the way she thought. Instead, he burst with that sweet laughter once more. It made her breath catch in her throat and the magic wrapped around her fingers disappear. Her head fell to the side as she regarded him.

“Tell me something else about yourself,” she asked, her voice making it sound more like a command.

He didn’t bristle. Instead, his head fell against the back of the couch while he watched her, gears moving behind his eyes while he mentally dug through memories.

“Before the Occurrence, I worked as a private detective.” He looked down, picking at the pilled fabric on the cushion. “I loved the job and the freedom it gave me from my family. It broke my heart when I was commanded to stay on the territory. I felt like someone had cut my wings. All of a sudden, I was surrounded by nothing but cranky, bossy men and I was supposed to keep my shit together to keep them from killing each other. It was more responsibility than I wanted at that age.”

Gwen’s breath was lodged in her throat. She hadn’t expected such a raw truth to fall from his lips so easily. His eyes turned up from the cushion and captured hers.

“Your turn,” he said.

She swallowed. What could she tell him? That she was hated by her own people? That she was on the run from his kind?

She sucked in a deep breath. “The card you brought back to me were made by Alphonse Mucha in his heyday. He gave them to me as a gift and they have never let me down. The other night, I had a reading that terrified me. Then, when you asked me to read your cards, I drew the same cards all over again. I think I screwed up your reading and drew for myself, instead of you.”

“What did the cards tell you?”

Her hand fisted in her skirt. “They told me that my ex-lover was going to kill me.” The words slipped out before she had a chance to wonder if she should tell them.

She heard the low growl that escaped the man and her eyes flew wide. Her heart thundered in her ears. Gwen shot to her feet.

A calm, tender hand touched her arm. His cool, green eyes looked up at her, calm and apologetic. “I’m sorry for that,” he said, softly. “That was a slip of anger on your behalf. It was not meant to scare you.”

Had she just done that? Had she panicked? Shame ridden, she let herself fall back onto the couch.