Page 45 of Feathers and Scales

She understood the need for secrecy, but why did her transparent explanation of Silas’s abilities seem to piss him off? Was it the same protectiveness Daxton had when she drew his blood?

“Our sixth sense of Insight picks up your spirit energy as normal,” Daxton said. “There’s nothing to tell us you’re not human.”

“That’s peculiar. I wonder if dragons and Fallen have crossed paths and not realized it. I can sense a spirit difference in the dragons, but it isn’t strong enough for me to raise questions.”

Everyone drifted into silence. Izzy busied herself with gazing at the building they drove toward. It was built with wood logs and solar panel roofing. Conifer trees crowded close, offering protection and insulation. On the wide porch, three women sat at a small table with mugs in their hands. With the sun blazing, the greenery appeared peaceful.

“It’s been ten years since I’ve been here, but it hasn’t changed,” Silas murmured, staring ahead.

Silas pulled the Jeep around the wood-chipped, circle driveway and parked next to a sidewalk leading to the main entrance. A huge garage on the right side looked like it could hold close to fifty vehicles. Down from the lodge stood a standard house-sized greenhouse, and a gymnasium with a track out front.

Daxton jumped out, opened her door, and stretched. Her shoes sprang atop soft wood chips. Earthy smells of dirt after a fresh rain twined in the breeze. The unfamiliar territory called to her as if she had been here before. The sensation coming from Daxton along the link gave a whole new meaning to the phrase “home sweet home.”

“Welcome to Pentros.” Daxton’s voice slid across her mind like warm silk and her heart thumped. She was in dragon territory. He walked to the trunk.

As he slung her luggage over his shoulder, she hurried over and moved her hand under the strap to take it off. The kind gesture only agitated her need for control in this new place. The last thing she wanted was for her belongings to disappear. Before she dragged the band past his arm, he grabbed it.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Taking my luggage.” She tugged on the bag.

“I can handle it.”

“It’s my responsibility.”

“It’s just a bag.” He stepped toward her.

“It’smybag.” She leaned away as his body heat radiated sinful thoughts into her mind like him grabbing her hair and hauling her into a—

Daxton gazed down at her lips like he was caught up in the same thoughts.

“Can I carry the damn bag?” Silas asked, strutting over to them.

In unison, they yelled, “No.”

Silas raised his hands in surrender. The movement drew Izzy’s attention to the curious gaze peering from behind him.

A taller man in gym shorts and a black hoodie stood to the right of Silas.

Izzy’s arms slackened, and her entire face heated.Great way to let your emotions control you into acting like a foolish child.

The man pulled the hood back to show his glistening face as if he’d been running all morning. His spirit energy hit her, and she took a step back. Few creatures on Earth wielded a presence Izzy’s spirit detected while she wasn’t consciously using it. As if she stood in front of a dragon rather than a man, his fiery force enclosed her.

His pointed features displayed carnal masculinity. Slicked-back black hair showcased a prominent widow’s peak, and the slight curl made it difficult to tell the true length. His thin goatee added to the harsh sensuality of his face. The lean muscle on his body suggested a sly serpent that could deliver a sudden lethal strike.

When his weighted metallic-black eyes met her gaze, she straightened, certain of two things: she stood before the Centurion of the dragons—and if his presence didn’t burn her to death, her crippling embarrassment of him witnessing her interaction with Daxton would.

“Are you finished?” the Centurion asked, crossing his arms. “I hope you two take this situation a little more seriously.”

Daxton stared at Izzy’s reddening face. Behind him, Keiran’s Centurion presence loomed, closing in like a wall. Daxton’s dragon smashed against his skin, fighting against the little control he had left. His muscles coiled tightly. He might have shifted if he had not been standing so close to Izzy. The idea of hurting her strangled him.

He tied his dragon down and turned toward Keiran, keeping a firm grip on the duffel bag.

Memories hit Daxton in a flash. Keiran’s warm embrace when Daxton’s Maternal passed, dominance pressing against Daxton as Keiran disciplined him for playing pranks, and joy when Keiran awarded him chief of his own territory. His heart filled with affection, but the fear of the situation sat heavily on his shoulders.

Curiosity and authority lined the inky black surface of Keiran’s eyes. Daxton’s beast bristled, riled to meet the strength of Keiran’s dragon. Keiran’s back straightened. A pressure built in Daxton’s head, his temples protesting the strain. The unmistakable dominance in the air waged war on Daxton, shoving against him with heat. He bit back his tongue to keep himself from speaking out of turn. He felt the thin ice he walked along concerning what had led to Keiran standing beforehim, but no one would get anywhere near Izzy or take more of her memories. They’d have to go through him first.

That thought struck him with an unsettling reality. To put another’s safety above his own—and above his kind’s—led to a Rogue dragon: the worst outcome for one of Keiran’s chiefs. He needed to de-escalate his protectiveness before it came to that.