He turned away with obvious reluctance, and Maple found herself watching the controlled power in his movements.
"We don't have enough clothes," she called after him, her voice echoing in the vast space.
He paused at the far end of the foyer. "I'll make a call. You'll have what you need for your stay."
Ben shrugged when she looked at him questioningly.
"Thank you," she called out again.
As they climbed the grand staircase, Ben leaned closer to her. "I don't know what we just stumbled into, but this keeps getting stranger and more complicated by the minute."
"I agree," Maple murmured, but her attention was caught by the way the claim marker had begun humming more loudly now that she was inside Rune's sanctuary. The sound seemed to resonate through the ancient stones, as if the entire fortress recognized what she carried.
"But what's most strange," Ben continued, his voice dropping lower, "is how Rune looks at you like you're both his salvation and damnation at once."
Maple didn't respond, couldn't respond, because Ben had put into words the very thing she'd been trying not to acknowledge. The intensity in Rune's gaze went far beyond simple attraction or even possessiveness. It was something primal and desperate and terrifying in its completeness. She gripped the treasure chest tighter, feeling the claim marker's hum synchronize with her heartbeat.
What is going on with this thing? And what is happening between me and Rune?
When Maple finally pushed open the heavy wooden door to her guest suite, her breath caught in her lungs.
Ben's voice drifted down the corridor from the adjacent room. "Oh, wow."
She understood his reaction completely. The space before her defied every expectation she'd formed about guest accommodations. This wasn't a guest suite; it was a sanctuary that belonged in the pages of architectural history. The sitting area alone stretched larger than her entire Phoenix condo, with soaring ceilings that disappeared into shadows and stone walls that looked like they'd been carved from the canyon itself centuries ago.
Ancient tapestries depicting scenes of dragons in flight hung between Gothic arches, their colors still vibrant despite what had to be incredible age. A massive stone fireplace dominated one wall, its mantel adorned with artifacts that made her archaeologist's heart soar—pottery that looked ancient, carved jade figurines that could have been imperial treasures, and metalwork that seemed to shimmer with its own inner light.
This is a museum. No, this is better than a museum—this is a living collection.
Through an archway that could have graced a medieval cathedral, she glimpsed the bedroom beyond. The four-poster bed was enormous, carved from what looked like a single piece of dark wood and draped with silk that caught the light filtering through tall windows. The craftsmanship was exquisite, every detail speaking to wealth that spanned not just generations but centuries.
She moved deeper into the suite, her boots silent on rugs that probably cost more than her yearly income. The bathroom, when she finally reached it, left her speechless. The space was larger than most people's bedrooms, with a shower that could have accommodated half a dozen people and a bathtub carved from a single block of marble that looked like it belonged in a Roman emperor's palace.
And this is just the guest wing.
The thought struck her with sudden force—if this was how Rune housed visitors he hadn't had in centuries, what must his private chambers look like? What must the rest of this fortress contain?
She wandered back to the sitting area, fighting the urge to touch the artifacts that called to her professional curiosity. Each piece told a story, represented a civilization, held secrets she'd spent her career trying to uncover. The dragon iconography was everywhere, woven into tapestries, carved into furniture, etchedinto metalwork with a precision that spoke of reverence rather than mere decoration.
This isn't just wealth. This is legacy. This is proof of everything I've been searching for my entire life.
The magnitude of what she'd stumbled into hit her like a physical blow. Five years of chasing rumors and following leads that her colleagues dismissed as fantasy, five years of enduring subtle mockery for her "unconventional" research interests, five years of wondering if she was deluding herself about the possibility that magic still existed in the world.
And here she was, standing in the guest suite of a five-hundred-year-old dragon shifter who commanded enough wealth and power to make governments nervous. The impossible had become her reality overnight.
She set the treasure chest on the massive bed and opened it with trembling fingers. The claim marker lay wrapped in cloth, but even through the fabric, she could see its red glow pulsing like a heartbeat. When she unwrapped it, the light blazed so brightly it cast dancing shadows across the ancient stone walls.
The humming was constant now, no longer the intermittent pulse she'd experienced in her condo. It filled the air around her, seeming to resonate through the very foundations of the fortress. And the heat—the awareness that flooded her body when she held it—had transformed from the overwhelming sensation that had driven her to cold showers into something deeper. Something that felt like recognition, like completion.
What is happening to me?
The pull toward Rune was so strong it was almost physical, as if invisible threads connected them through the stone walls and corridors of his mansion. She could sense his presence somewhere in the vast structure, and could almost feel the ancient power that surrounded him like an aura. The intensity of it terrified her. This wasn't just attraction or curiosity—thiswas something primal and inevitable that threatened every wall she'd built around herself.
She rewrapped the marker hastily and shoved the treasure chest under the bed, as if distance could diminish the connection. It didn't work. Even hidden, she could feel its presence, could feel the way it seemed to sing in harmony with something deep inside her.
I need to get control of myself. I need to think rationally about this situation.
The bathroom offered blessed distraction. She turned the shower to its hottest setting and let the steam fill the enormous space, trying to wash away the events of the day and the impossible feelings the claim marker had awakened. But even under the cascade of water, she couldn't escape the thoughts that chased each other through her mind.
