Page 65 of Dragon’s Rogue

She shouldn’t. He was flirting with her—more than flirting. And they needed to talk. About dragons and destined mates and Vyrkos and—

His finger brushed her lips. Yum. She licked the frosting off his finger, sucking it sensually into her mouth. Two could play at this game, she thought wickedly. She heard his soft intake of breath, his eyes half-closing.

He wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck. “You still didn’t get it all,” he whispered, pulling her towards him. “It’s stuck right there…”

He drew his finger over her lips, and then pulled them to his. He sipped at her, soft and gentle, and then he slowly drew his tongue across her lower lip. There was a low rumble in his chest, like a dragon purr.

The gold necklace went warm around her neck, and she heard music, faint and far away. Zane groaned and pulled her closer still, as though he couldn’t bear a fraction of an inch between them.

The warmth spread through her chest, like it had before. What was she feeling? Magic? Lust? Love? Destiny? All of the above?

He pulled reluctantly away, resting his forehead on hers. “You’re still wearing the necklace,” he said. He seemed happy about that.

“It’s beautiful.” She put her hand to her chest. “And… it feels good.”

It did feel good—like it belonged around her neck. Like she’d feel naked with it gone.

“It likes you,” he said, touching the gold with his fingertips.

“I wasn’t aware that gold necklaces had opinions,” she teased.

“Oh, yes.” The music grew louder. “They definitely do.”

“Is that how they express their opinions?” she asked. “That humming?” She’d heard it last night in the gallery, when Zane was examining her collection. And even louder, when they made love. At least, she thought she had. She’d lost her mind for a minute there—it could have been choirs of angels singing, for all she knew.

Zane’s dimple was showing, and he was smiling like he’d heard what she was thinking.

“Gold sings to dragons. That’s why we love it so much.” Zane stroked the necklace, running his fingers along it, and Blaze could feel the touch as if he were stroking her skin. She shivered. His voice grew husky. “Dragons love treasure,” he said. “And treasure loves dragons.”

He’d said his dragon thought she was a treasure. Did that mean his dragon loved her? Did she love him? How could she know that in such a short time? How could he?

His fingers drifted back up to her face, caressing her cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “My dragon’s been giving me hell all day. He was worried about you.”

“That’s sweet,” she said. “But I told you—you don’t need to worry about me. Either of you.”

“And I told you, dragons are protective of the things they treasure.”

My dragon thinks you’re a treasure.

Not a possession, maybe. But valuable. Special. Worth taking care of.

No one had wanted to take care of her in so long. Valued her, or thought she was special. Scary, yes. Formidable. Even beautiful. But not a treasure.

This time the tears did spill over.

“Hey,” Zane said. “Don’t cry. That wasn’t supposed to make you cry.”

She dashed her hand under her eyes, blinking hard. “I’m not.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. He rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone, catching the last tear. “Of course not. Blaze McKenna’s a badass witch. And there’s no crying in badass witchery.”

“Exactly. It’s just… it’s been an emotional few days.”

“Tell me about it.”

She stole a look at him, summoning up the courage to ask him some of the things she wanted to know. “Has it been? Emotional for you, I mean? I always heard that Draken don’t really… have feelings. For people. Or each other. Or anyone.”

“I’m not a Draken,” he reminded her. “I’m a Wild Dragon. And they can feel. And love. They can have true mates, especially if they carry the blood of other shifters. And they bond with them just as hard.”