Dragon Soul(22)

"It's part of a job I have to do," he said after several awkward seconds  of silence. "Not one I want to conduct but unfortunately, necessary."

"Huh," she said, studying her hands.

Rowan felt like a heel lying to her in that manner, but he didn't want  to ask her what was wrong when she had her hands full with Mrs. P.

Later, he promised himself, his body reacting to the idea of spending  the night with her. Later he would get the source of her suddenly  unhappy mien. Except …  later he would be on a ship, and she would be  going back home.

And that thought filled him with the morose satisfaction that everything that could go wrong was going wrong.

Except Sophea. She was the one bright, shining delight in the hellish  nightmare his life had become, a delight he wasn't going to allow to be  harmed. "If you're worried about Mrs. P's safety, I can assure you that  I'll keep a very close eye on her," he reassured her.

"But you are not a dragon," Mrs. P said fretfully.

"No, but I can keep you safe."

"I must have a dragon. Only a dragon can face the challenges and keep my  shiny safe." Mrs. P fretted with the material of her blouse.

"Well … " Sophea bit her lower lip in thought, and Rowan was aware of yet  another surge of blood to his nether regions. Quickly, he thought of  various methods of medieval torture. Once he had his desires under  control, he chided himself for having such an instant reaction to  Sophea.

He'd have to be a saint not to be affected by her, he told himself by  way of excuse for what appeared to be a permanent erection. He casually  picked up a throw pillow and laid it on his lap.

Dammit, it wasn't his fault if she was a temptress, a silken-skinned,  desirable temptress. Perhaps it was her innocence that appealed to him  or the fact that she needed a mentor, one who could teach her what world  she had been born into. Or the need to shelter her, to protect her from  the harshness of the world that she'd had all too much experience with.  Then again, it might be the purity that wrapped around her like a  cloak. She wasn't tainted by tragedy, as he was. She was wholesome and  intriguing, and very, very feminine. And he very much wished he was  buried in her right at that moment.         

     



 

"To be honest, I don't really have to go home to anything. I mean, I'm  not working, and I have to admit, a cruise does sound heavenly. But I'd  have to clear it with Jian's cousin first. For all I know, he might have  someone arranged to join Mrs. P here, and just didn't mention it to  me."

"Jian's cousin?" he asked.

"Jian was my husband," Sophea explained, still not meeting his eye. "His  cousin is the one who called me up and asked me to get Mrs. P to the  boat. I found his number this morning, but haven't had time to check in  with him. I suppose I should give him a quick call now."

She rose and took the phone with her into bathroom, obviously to make her call in private.

Rowan looked at the old woman on the bed as she perused the menu. "Why do you want Sophea with you so badly?"

"She must accompany me. There are monsters in Duat and many challenges. Only a dragon can triumph over them."

"Is that why you stole the ring? Is it your offering?"

She peered over the top of the menu at him. "I have changed my mind. You must come, too."

He stared for a moment, startled. "You know that I want the ring, do you not?"

"Everyone wants it." She returned to her examination of the menu. "None but my beau shall have it, though."

"Do you know why I want it?"

She said one word, but it damned near pierced his heart. "Danegeld."

"What do you know about that?" he asked, pulling the menu from her  hands. He was exhausted and worn down by what seemed to be endless  worry. "Who exactly are you?"

She straightened her shoulders. "I am Aset. Who are you?"

"You know who I am," he said, slowly sitting down on the bed next to the old lady's.

"You say you are nothing but a mere mortal, but you are not." She  plucked the menu from his hands and opened it. "It is clear to me that  you must come on the journey as well. Your debt is due to be called in.  You must pay for your sins. You must pay for the deaths of those  dragons."

His stomach tightened painfully, and his voice, when he spoke, was hoarse. "What do you know about that?"

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Where do thoughts come from? My  knowledge is my own, but it is accurate. If you do not make this journey  across the Duat with us, you will forfeit your life."

"I'm going to lose it anyway if the dragons tell their ancestor that I'm  here." Rowan rubbed his face. "I've been living on borrowed time for  the last twenty years."

"The First Dragon was merciful," she said, looking once again at him  over the top of the menu. Her eyes were substantially brighter than they  had been a few minutes before. "He gave you time to repay the debt, but  you did not."

"I couldn't," he said, shaking his head. "I had to go into hiding. If  the dragons knew where I was, they'd demand that I do nothing but  practice my art for their benefit, and who knows where that would end.  Possibly in more deaths."

"You are such a bad alchemist, then?"

"I am an unlearned one, and that equates to being bad, yes. I haven't broken any magic since that horrible night."

"The First Dragon will not be pleased," she said, still shaking her head.

"I doubt he ever was pleased when it concerned me," Rowan said tiredly.  He tried to organize his thoughts into sensible clumps. "I wish you'd  tell me how you know about my past. It's not something that people  outside of the dragon circles know about. In fact, the only people I  told about my first experience in alchemy were my parents, and they are  both dead."

"The First Dragon knows," she said coyly, and slowly raised the menu so  that it blocked his view. "Do not discourage Sophea. You will need her,  just as I will need you both."

"I must have that ring," he said, a sense of almost unbearable tiredness  settling firmly around him. "I don't wish to take it from you by force,  but I will if I have to. The fate of the mortal world rests on it."

"The fate of my happiness rests on it as well, and I have been too long  without my beau," Mrs. P countered without even flicking the menu at  him. "Without my offering, all will be lost."

"You can say that again. Look-I can get you something else of value to  offer your boyfriend. Gold, if you like. Precious jewels. Hell, even  stacks of money if that's what you want. All I ask for is that you give  the ring to me, and I'll make sure you have something of tremendous  value to use as your offering."         

     



 

"You owe danegeld to the First Dragon for the deaths of his  descendants," she said with what sounded like a righteous sniff. "You  cannot even pay that, and yet you offer me the world?"

"I'll deal with the danegeld later," he said somewhat snappishly. He  moderated his voice, feeling like a brute who would yell at a little old  lady. "It's not like the First Dragon is going to join us on the cruise  and demand I pay it right then and there."

"Ha!" She tossed the menu aside as Sophea emerged from the bathroom.

He wanted to ask Mrs. P what she'd meant by that, but Sophea, with a  couple of lines between her brows, said slowly, "I can't reach him. I  get some weird answering service that makes reference to the owner of  that voice mailbox being permanently unavailable. Why do you have voice  mail if you are not ever going to get it? And why, oh why, didn't I  write down his name? I can't even look him up online to find another  phone number for him."

He didn't answer, and Sophea cast him a questioning look. "Are you okay? You look pale."

"I'm fine," he croaked, and cleared his throat. "I'm just a bit …   frustrated." He gave her a potent glance, hoping she would pick up on  his meaning, but she simply went over to sit on the end of Mrs. P's bed.  "I think we'd all feel better with a little food. Did you pick out what  you want for lunch, Rowan?"

He was tempted to answer, "You," but caught himself in time. He wished  Sophea would sit next to him, as she had in the car, where he could  breathe in the sweet scent of her, one that reminded him of orange  blossom honey.

She tasted just as sweet, and once again, he had to adjust the pillow in  his lap to keep his thoughts from being obvious. Part of his mind was  irritated that she held such power over him, while the other part was  cataloging all the things about her he liked, everything from that  sleek, glossy black hair to the tilt of her enticing eyes, and the way  she seemed to exude warmth.

He wanted her to exude on him, again. He wanted her making shy little  touches to his thigh, and pressing into him until he just wanted to take  her in his arms. He wanted her mind, her unique mind thinking about  him. He wanted to hear her brag how badass she was, and to make sure  that nothing dinged that newfound confidence in herself.