Kiss of a Dragon(25)

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. He pulled his hand back.

She steeled herself from following after it.

“Your lovers are your business,” he said, but his gaze was intense again. “I shouldn’t pry. I’m just worried that…” He stopped, frowning and dropping his gaze again.

“Worried about what?” She couldn’t help being drawn in by him. What was wrong with her?

He looked up again, held her gaze for a moment, then rolled up the cuff of his starched white dress shirt. She’d seen him naked before—for a split second that replayed in her mind again and again—and she’d noticed a lot of tattoos. A couple on his chest, his shoulder, and up and down his arms. Even a few that edged up on his neck. But she hadn’t had a good look at any of them. Now he was baring his sexy, muscular forearm and holding it out for her inspection.

They looked like some kind of ancient writing. “What do they mean?” She couldn’t help reaching out to touch one set of symbols with her fingertip. His skin was hot, almost like he had a fever, and the tattoos twitched under her touch. She jerked her hand back and looked up at him. “They’re magic, aren’t they?”

He let out a low breath, and his eyes were slightly hooded. Like her touch on the tattoo had done something to him. Her face heated at that thought, and she couldn’t decide if that was bad or good.

She held her breath, waiting.

He pulled in some air and seemed to recover. “They’re very… sensitive.”

Oh, Jesus. She swallowed.

“They’re called runes, and they’re part of my fae ancestry.” His voice was less breathy and more normal again. “My great-grandmother ten generations ago was the Fae Queen of the Summer Court. She mated with a dragon, and every generation in the House of Smoke from then on has had some variation of fae magic in their blood. And that magic lets me sense things… taste them.” The smooth, honeyed tone of his voice made that sound insanely erotic.

The quivers in her stomach stepped up to a full jitter riot. “What kinds of things?”

“A wide range.” Then he dropped his voice and nailed her with that hot pale-amber stare. “Among other things, I can taste a person’s experiences. A sense of who they are. Their history.” He arched an eyebrow, just slightly. “Especially their sexual experiences, both good and bad.”

Oh shit. “Well, that’s not weird at all.” What did he know about her? The idea that he had tasted her in some magical sense was sending shivers up and down her body. Even worse, not all of them were bad.

He smiled a little, but it was pained. “You have a dark history with men.”

Every muscle in her body stiffened. “Yeah, so? A lot of women do. You should see the stories that come through my office. Men are assholes.”

He nodded. “I tasted that from the first moment I met you.”

“In the alley?” But some of the tension drained to her feet. He wasn’t… judging her.

“Yes. And I have to admit, it was more than a little arousing to see you give back to that demon what he deserved.” The smile on his face was going to kill her. Just absolutely kill her. And arousing? Why did he have to say things like that?

Her lady parts were aflame. “Maybe you should have Sandra beat up some guy before you take her to bed.”

His eyes widened a little… then he laughed. A short, clear laugh, but it shook the tattoos on his arm. Or maybe they just moved around on their own, fading and then rising from below his skin. He dipped his head and peered at her, humor and intensity mixed in his eyes. “She might think that a little odd.”

“Just a little.” God, was it hot in here? She needed air. Her gaze darted away from him and his sexy, humor-filled face, searching out the window.

They were close to her office.

Thank God.

She was in desperate need of distraction, and her clients were just the ticket. Besides, they were getting restless. One was trying to get a restraining order in place. Another was stuck between halfway houses and needed a referral. A third simply needed to talk again—Arabella didn’t know if her client planned to finally file that divorce decree to get away from her abusive husband, but if she did, Arabella needed to be there to hook her up with all the right services to get her through to the other side in one piece. Safe. Her clients truly needed her—and she needed a distraction from her dilemma with this ridiculously hot dragon shifter in search of a mate.

“Looks like we’re here!” she said brightly, easing away from Lucian on the bench seat as the limo pulled up to the curb. “But hey, you better not linger with this car in this neighborhood. Especially at night. You’ll get jacked in no time.”