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“Oops,” he mumbled, snatching the pot up so it stopped clanking against the others. When he spun around, his wing knocked over a bowl of apples on the counter. Barith cursed as the two of them scrambled to fish them up.
Gwen nearly laughed. He was like a bull in a china shop with those things. She startled when she caught herself normalizing them. As if she saw people with wings every day.
Barith tucked his wings in tight, and they vanished just as quickly as they’d appeared. “Sorry,” he offered, the rounds of his cheeks turning pink. “That’s why I normally put ’em away when I’m inside.”
“How, though?” she asked, amazed, putting the last apple back into the bowl.
“It’s just glamour magick,” he explained, as if it were nothing at all. “All dragons can do it. Our ancestors were shape-shifters, so they say it comes from them. I can’t hide my whole self, just the wings and the tail if I want, but some of my kind can go entirely invisible.”
“And it doesn’t mess up your clothes?” she asked. His shirt looked untouched.
“Not if they’re made out of natural materials. The magick will alter it, to make room. If I wear any of that newfangled synthetic stuff, though…” His nose crinkled.
“It’ll rip?”
“Aye,” he confirmed with a nod and a scowl. “Learned that the hard way. Between my tail and the wings, I looked like I’d waded through a mile of thistles.”
“And the fire?”
He lifted his brows and smirked. “Depends. I can’t say I’ve not caught myself on fire more than once or twice and ended up stark naked in mixed company.”
Gwen’s eyes widened. Somehow it didn’t surprise her, but it was still startling to imagine him caught up in a burst of flames until there was nothing left but skin and wings and tail. A vision of Sirus shoved Barith’s out of the way. All slender, solid muscle and olive skin, his eyes dark and liquid.
“Sirus told me Levian is part faerie,” she threw out, hoping to distract herself.
“Aye,” Barith grumbled before downing the rest of his scotch. “She’s only half fae, though she somehow manages to be one-hundred-percent a pain in my arse.”
The idea that actual faeries roamed the earth still boggled Gwen’s mind. Before she could get the chance to pepper him with more questions, Barith cut in with one of his own. “He really doesn’t trouble you, does he?” he asked, his head tilted like a curious dog.
Gwen blinked. “Who?”
“Sirus.”
This again? She cleared a little tickle in her throat. “No. He doesn’t. Is that weird?” The smile that spread over Barith’s lips made Gwen tense. “What?” she snapped, not at all liking his expression. Like there was some dark secret she didn’t know.
“Nothing,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders innocently. “I was just thinking.” His smile widened, his eyes twinkling with mischievous amusement. Her stomach knotted. “I’ve seen a lot over the years, but I’ve not seen many people yell at a vampire without a sword in their hand. I’ve never seen someone yell at Sirus without one.”
Gwen went cold and warm all at once.
“Levian is waiting for you,” a cool, deep voice cut in.
With a curse, she startled and spun around, clutching her hand to her chest to keep her heart from bursting out onto the floor. Sirus loomed in the doorway, his jaw set tight, his expression unreadably flat.
“She wants to see me?” she managed to stammer once she’d calmed enough to speak.
“Me,” the dragon clarified, not sounding or appearing at all pleased. “For what?”
Sirus looked over at him, and Barith grumbled, running his hand through his already tousled hair. “She’s the one who should come to me,” he growled.
“She’s in the library,” Sirus replied with utter indifference to Barith’s protest. The dragon mumbled curses, forcefully set down his empty mug, and picked up the bag of chips and the remaining lavender cookies. Only once he’d stalked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone, did Sirus turn his icy glare fully on Gwen. She felt a little chill run up her back in response. It was very far from unpleasant.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked, his tone clipped and cool.
“A little,” she managed to mutter, her cheeks growing warm.
“You need rest,” he told her. “Come. I’ll find you a room.”
Chapter Seven
