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“Those aren’t compliments,” he clipped. “Is there even one side of you that’s real?” He leaned toward her, placing one tattooed elbow on the steering wheel. “Or are you just one big fake?”
“I have a real side,” she said, refusing to bat an eye—not at that cold-as-ice stare, and certainly not at the impressive bands of corded muscle in his arms. “But you’ll never meet her.” She held out her hand, palm up. “Keys, Shadows.” She looked pointedly at the sun-bleached sky. “It’s getting dark.”
He shut off the car, that ever-present frown on his face growing more intense. “It’s three o’clock.” He dropped the keys in her hand.
With a smug smile, she thanked him and hurried out of the car, unable to hold it any longer.
Sand crunched under her shoes as she rushed to a creosote bush. She squatted behind it, hoping Roman would be decent enough not to spy on her. If he did, he wouldn’t see much, except she did nearly pee on her shoe. That would’ve sucked.
Shay buttoned her pants and shielded her eyes from the sun, looking out across the desert land rippling under the heat.
It was smouldering. Not even five minutes out here, and she could already feel her pale skin reddening.
The desert was peaceful and quiet, and so empty that she began to fear they wouldn’t find anything out here. When she envisioned kidnapping scenarios, a desert didn’t seem like the best place to hide someone. Maybe that was precisely why someone would choose to come out here.
She scanned the landscape one more time, sweat beading between her breasts and on her lower back. There were no other cars in sight, no people. The only movement came from the heatwaves and the few tiny lizards weaving between rocks and shrubs.
When she made it back in the car, it took until they had already driven two miles before she realized she still had the keys in her pocket.
Her head turned toward Roman in a flash, but he spoke before she could voice her surprise.
“I have another set,” he said. “Guess you’re not the only one who’s full of tricks.” His heavy stare settled on her. There was a flutter in her stomach and a tightness in her chest that told her she wouldn’t like what he said next. “But you might be the only one who fucks someone over for your own agenda.” He nodded at the keys in her pocket. “You can keep those. We’ll see which of us leaves the other one first.”
Stop staring, Sayagul said to Roman roughly thirty minutes later, glaring up at him from his shadow.
He tore his eyes off Shay and focused on the straight stretch of road ahead. It was seemingly endless, large tracts of desert land shimmering all around them, no buildings or people in sight. I wasn’t, he grumbled.
I don’t know what it is with you and this Selkie, Sayagul huffed. Neither did Roman. Has the heat already boiled your brain? Maybe it had. At least then he’d have an excuse for staring at Cousens as if she were stark naked in his passenger’s seat.
I’m just keeping an eye on her, Roman lied.
It doesn’t matter how many eyes we keep on her. She’s already tricked us three times. I’m certain she can do it again.
Roman twisted the wheel. What’s it going to take to get you off my case?
A beat of silence, and then the dragon said, Gummy bears.
Fine. He opened the center console, trying his damned hardest not to meet Shay’s curious gaze, and found a fresh bag of gummy bears.
“Are those Sugar Squishies?” Shay had barely got the question out before Sayagul tore out of Roman’s shadow with an angry squawk.
The dragon planted all four feet on the gearshift, perching on it like an eagle might sit at the very top of a towering tree, and glared up at Shay, who glanced at Roman with raised strawberry-blonde brows. Fuck, that rose-gold hair color did shit to him that he didn’t want to admit.
“What did I say?” she asked him.
“‘Sugar Squishies’.” He tore open the bag with his teeth. “Sayagul’s asserting her claim.” He tossed the bag onto the dash, a yellow gummy bear rolling out.
Sayagul wouldn’t stop glaring at Shay, her eyes narrowing into slits.
“I’m not going to steal them,” Shay promised, the effort to suppress her laugh drawing attention to a dimple in her cheek—another thing Roman knew damn well he shouldn’t be noticing. Just like those tan lines peeking out under the thin straps of her black tank top. “What’s your name?”
My name is not for the utterance of lying Selkies, Sayagul hissed, her words audible to both Roman and Shay.
“It’s Sayagul,” Roman said.
The dragon’s small head whipped around to face Roman, neck twisting, a screech slicing through the car.
“Sayagul,” Shay said politely, causing Sayagul to face her again, smoke puffing from flared nostrils. “Pleased to meet you.”
