Page 13 of Knight of the Sword

He knew she was worried about Sara. He was too, but he had to trust that Nimue knew what she was talking about, even if she was a fickle faerie. But how to explain to Stephanie?

“You know cell phone transmissions can be picked up pretty easily,” Michael answered. “So she can’t call.”

She looked dubious, but didn’t say anything. Michael retreated to the small office behind the main desk and closed the door. He needed to make sure he hadn’t missed anything Sara might have left behind concerning Balor. The bastard kept himself incognito, just like he did running the money-laundering scheme that kept terrorist organizations supplied with cash. To the outside world, Adam Baylor operated a very successful brokerage in London. To the few who really knew what he was, the “inside” money was all dirty, taken from the drug cartels of Mexico and South America as well as the opium business in Afghanistan.

Michael wished he didn’t need to drag Sophie into this. It was dangerous enough work for him and he’d had centuries to hone his warlock skills. Sophie was completely unaware of her magical power, from what he could tell, which meant she didn’t know how to use it, either.

Thoughts of Sophie made him wonder about the ex-husband. The man was arrogant, but he clearly thought he was going to be a part of her life again. Did she harbor feelings for him? Or was he the jerk who had hurt her? She had made no comment, one way or the other.

Something that felt dangerously close to a knife pierced his gut. The idea of another man’s hands roaming over Sophie’s naked flesh made Michael want to smash a fist into the guy’s face. His aura expanded, flickering shards of dark red and black. He took a deep breath, pulling the negative energy back in and neutralizing it with a spell. Balor fed off those kinds of emotions—would feel them across space—and if Michael let his anger loose he would endanger everyone around him.

Michael finished searching the small office with no luck. He shut off the lights and went into the lobby. Dusk was already falling and Stephanie had gone home.

He had just switched on the ignition in his car when something red flashed across the sky. This time he didn’t need the police scanner to tell him what it was. Putting the car in drive, the tires squealed as he headed for Sophie’s clinic.

****

Sophie arched her back, stretching tired muscles, as she closed the door to the kennel area. All the animals had been fed and had fresh water. Most were already curled up and snoozing contentedly. It had been a long day, but knowing that these dogs and cats, at least, would be comfortable and safe made the work worth it.

She’d even managed to take Augustin for a good ride. It was odd how she could relate to the horse, almost as if he understood everything she said. He’d even nickered and tossed his head when she tried to explain how crazy her world had become.

She yawned as she sat down at her desk and checked the email. A couple of adoption applications and the usual jokes and political comments of the day. She deleted a cutesy note from Robert. At least there were no nasty little queries about whether she was insane or just out for publicity, like the ones that had been coming in during the past week. No crank phone calls, either, tying up her receptionist. The interview she had given Toby never appeared in the paper and she had mixed feelings about that. It probably was not of that much interest since the media had moved on to other stories. She was a dim memory.

But she did remember what had happened. Try to deny it she might, but that dragon had been real. Only Michael seemed to accept that.

Michael. She tried not to think about how her skin tingled at the mere brush of his fingers, or how his body heat had enveloped her while they were at the computer a few days ago—her traitorous body had waited in anticipation of his hands running over her shoulders, down her arms and encircling her waist as he pulled her up against him…

Sophie toyed with a pencil absently. Michael had not touched her. Why would she want him to? Physical attraction only led to disastrous results. For men, sex was a conquest and a carnal release of momentary passion. She had experienced that during her single years of dating more than once. For her, sex was an emotional investment—putting her faith and trust in someone who would share all of his life with her. And she had thought Robert was the one. Even though he turned women’s heads just walking through a room, he had kept his attention riveted on her. He had said and done all the right things to make her feel special… In the end, it had all been a sham. She had been just another trophy he wanted to acquire.

No, any physical attraction needed to be restrained. Definitely.

Her hands stilled. Damn it. She could not deny she was physically attracted to Michael. Her body hummed when she saw him. When he got into her personal space, she felt as though she were physically being pulled toward him. Like he was some big, hunky magnet that she had no ability to step back from. Definitely dangerous. Absolutely dangerous for her to even be thinking—

Sophie grabbed her dragon keychain and headed for the door. Enough of this woolgathering. It was already dark outside and she needed to head home. Tomorrow morning, she would go to Mr. Smith’s to take Princess’s stitches out. Surely Michael would not be there if she arrived bright and early.

She had just locked the door when she heard the whirring of leathery wings. A bright light nearly blinded her. She felt the dragon’s hot breath even before she turned around.

It was sitting on the street, its spiked tail with the spear tip wrapped around its front claws, showing no sign of aggression. It blinked its cobalt eyes slowly, then tilted its head as if to study her.

It reminded her of an oversized dog. Avatar-sized. Maybe she really was losing it. How would she know if she were having a nervous breakdown anyhow? Still—

She took a step closer. The dragon didn’t move. She closed her eyes, then slowly re-opened them. It was still there. Hesitantly, she ventured another step. The dragon tipped its head, almost as if it were nodding. A small puff of smoke escaped from its nostrils, but no flame of fire.

“What do you want?” she asked in a voice slightly above a whisper. She probably really was losing it, standing on her lawn talking to a metal-scaled dragon as though she were trying to calm a nervous cat. But it was an animal, living and breathing. Why had it come again? Was it hurt in some way she could not see? If it needed her— “Can I help you?”

The dragon pulled back its lips, exposing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Sophie drew back. Obviously, it didn’t need her help. But it stayed where it was and, for a fleeting moment, she wondered if it was smiling, like some dogs do. A hysterical bubble of laughter rose in her throat. Next, she’d be imagining it would roll over and want its belly rubbed. Did dragons have soft underbellies?

Porch lights were snapping on down the street, and she could hear doors slamming as her neighbors started shouting. One of them was running toward her with a raised shotgun.

“Go!” she said to the dragon. “Get away before they kill you!”

The dragon blinked once, then turned its massive head, releasing a stream of fire that snaked along the tarred street, before it rose gracefully in the air, its wings beating rhythmically. The shotgun fired and the dragon roared, sending another ball of flame rolling down the street. One of her neighbors shrieked and Sophie could hear the sound of sirens coming closer.

She covered her face with her hands. Not again! Just when she thought the nightmare was over…

A gently firm hand touched her shoulder. She separated her fingers and peered out.

“I’m here,” Michael said.