ARTHUR
I was losing control of myself.
Not outwardly. Outwardly, I was the picture of calm, the way I had been trained. The way an alpha should be. I was everything my father had valued. Stillness. Authority without explanation. Desire treated as noise to be ignored.
But inside?
Inside was a mess.
I had never felt such a pull toward a woman. Not once. Not ever. But something had lodged itself under my ribs the moment she touched me in the library, and now it refused to let go.
I glanced over at her. I shouldn’t have. I did it anyway.
She sat curled into the seat, her legs drawn slightly inward, her cardigan bunched at the elbows. Her red hair had come loose, falling in uneven, soft-looking strands. I could not look away. She wore a soft green dress under the sweater, which looked comfortable and practical and somehow captured allmy attention. Her shoes were simple. Her bag rested on her lap as if she needed the weight of it to ground her.
She was beautiful. Not in the loud, polished way some valued, but in arealway. An honest way. I would not have changed a single thing about her.
I gripped the wheel a little tighter.
The scene in the hallway kept replaying in my mind. The man staring at her, his crude words. I had wanted to tear out his throat. I would have, if she hadn’t been looking at me. If she had seen me do that, she would have screamed. She would have run. I chose restraint because it kept her safe. Because I didn’t want her to be afraid of me.
I didn’t want to lose her. Not when I had only just begun to know her.
I had a ridiculous urge to scoop her up and carry her away from any and every threat she might ever encounter again. It rose in me every time she looked at me with those wide blue eyes that held more gentleness than I deserved.
I couldn’t give in to that urge.
I had a clan relying on me. I had a mystery to solve—a life-giving mystery that could change the fate of every dragon in my clan. I had no time for romance—or whatever this was. I had meant that when I told her.
Neededto mean it.
So why did my stomach twist whenever I replayed the look on her face when I said it? Why did something inside me feel wrong? Why did it feel like I’d lied? And why did it feel like I’d hurt her?
I needed focus. I needed sense. I needed distance.
Instead, I kept glancing at her.
She looked lost in thought as she gazed out the window, tapping her fingers on her knee. Even as the pull toward her grew stronger, her presence calmed me.
My chest constricted again.
The phone mounted on my dash rang, startling both of us. The screen lit up with Caliban’s face. Of course he had chosen to make it a video call.
I swiped to answer.
Caliban filled the screen with his usual unimpressed stare. His hair stood at strange angles as if he had been fighting the wind. “You missed another council meeting.”
A muscle in my jaw tensed. “I am handling something important.”
“You always say that.” He leaned closer to the camera. “Did you at least find the book? Did you locate the missing histories? Did you?—”
“I’m driving, Caliban.”
Caliban ignored that. “Have you considered there may be a ward on your ancestor’s?—”
I coughed sharply.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
