Page 19 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

“No,” he said, starting towards the door. “They do it because they’re afraid I’ll eat them if they annoy me.”

Trish snorted. Emon said, “Don’t be too sure I won’t.”

“No way I’m calling you that,” she informed him. “Especially if we’re going to do that sex dungeon thing.”

“If I get you in my sex dungeon, I bet I can make you call me anything I want.”

That was a bet Trish was not willing to take.

The proceeded across the hall in a formal procession. Trish had thought it would make her feel stupid—her and Emon leading the way, followed by Noah “escorting” Mina, and Tristan and Brock bringing up the rear. But she found herself kind of enjoying it, as Emon seated her at the table and then stood at the head of the table, waiting for the others to be seated.

She should not be flirting with the Darkwing Dragon, she told herself. It was literally playing with fire. But face it, he was sexy as fuck, and she needed to make him like her.

Not to mention the fact that she liked him. Even if he was possibly a pervy stalker, who looked in her windows and appeared in her room without warning. He also threw knives at paintings of dead men, but that was probably a sane response, under the circumstances.

Trish was seated on Emon’s right, and the servant showed the others to their places. The place across from Trish, at Emon’s left, remained empty.

She wondered who was supposed to be sitting there, but Emon said nothing.

Drinks were poured, and then servants started filing in with the first course. Suddenly Tristan looked up, a slight frown between his eyebrows, his eyes going vacant as if he was listening to something in the distance.

Moments later, a woman appeared in the doorway, looking around hesitantly. She had dark brown hair that waved softly around her face, and green eyes like Emon’s.

Brock sat up straight and smiled, waving at her.

“Mayah!” Emon immediately pushed his chair back and went over to her, taking her hand. “You made it. How are you feeling?”

She smiled up at him, but it looked like work. “Better,” she said softly. “Still a little weak. Hungry.”

Emon escorted her around the table to the empty place and held her chair for her, edging a servant out of the way. He even put her napkin on her lap.

“I’m not a piece of porcelain,” she murmured. “Go sit down.”

He just gave a twisted smile, a heartbreakingly gentle look in his eyes. He touched her lightly on the cheek before returning to his own place.

“Good thing you’re not,” he said. “Remember that time I accidentally dropped you over the balcony?”

Trish almost choked on her soup. “You what? Why?” she asked.

“We were playing Draken Wars,” Emon said, taking a spoonful of soup. “She was an enemy spy, and I was dangling her over the balcony on the fifth level, to make her talk.”

“And you dropped her?” Brock asked, looking fascinated. “I bet you got in trouble.”

Mayah smiled at him. “Well, to be fair, I can fly, so it wasn’t quite as bad as it sounds. But I wasn’t that good at quick Changes. Until that day, anyway. Quickest Change I’d ever done.”

Trish watched Emon’s face as he bantered with his sister. She’d just learned something else about the Darkwing Dragon.

He might be dangerous. And he might be crazy. But he was still capable of love.

Chapter 10

Three nights later, Trish was working late in the medical clinic. She liked it here better than the main lab, where the rest of the research team worked.

She didn’t really know any of them, except Mina. Three of them were specialists sent by the Shifter Council, and the ones from Silverlake had joined the pack only recently. Also they made her feel inadequate, with their advanced degrees in biochemistry and molecular biology, or breakthrough research in shifter biomagic.

Trish was just a garden-variety shifter medic, with a degree in canine veterinary medicine, some knowledge of healing magic and potions, and Physician’s Assistant certification in human orthopedics, since the most common shifter ailment was broken bones.

She was also capable of doing completely illegal surgeries, most of which involved gunshot wounds.