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“Meaning draman are the first and only source of dragon problems?” I snorted again. “You have to be kidding me.”
Hell, I knew from experience just how far off the mark that statement was.
“You’re right; they’re not the sole source of our problems.” He slanted me another glance, his expression grim. “But trust me when I say that you lot are a major problem when it comes to keeping the existence of dragons secret.”
“And of course the full-bloods are perfect little angels, and would never do anything to jeopardize the security of the cliques.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I expected better of you, Damon.”
He quirked an eyebrow at that and, just for a moment, humor warmed his dark eyes. “As I’ve mentioned before, you barely know me. And yet here you stand berating my ideals and beliefs.”
“And yet you’ve called me stupid multiple times, and would deny me existence if you could.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“I saw your reaction when I mentioned I was draman. Hell, I felt it. So don’t try to bullshit me about what you did and didn’t mean.”
“I won’t deny I reacted to the fact you were draman, Mercy, but it’s not for the reasons you seem to think.”
“So explain it to me, seeing I so stupidly got it wrong.”
I stopped at another street and crossed my arms, waiting for the flow of traffic to ease so that we could cross. The sea breeze was getting stronger, and the heat of Damon’s presence was no longer enough to keep me warm. I reached down inside myself and called forth the fire, feeling it ripple through my muscles, warming me from the inside out. It wasn’t enough to make my skin glow with heat, but at least it kept the bite of the wind at bay. And that bite would get worse the closer we got to the sea.
“I’ve never seen a dragon with your fire control, let alone a draman.” He began shrugging off his coat. “It’s unusual for draman to even get dragon skills, let alone have them so refined.”
I frowned, more than a little confused by his statement. While it was true that there were few enough draman who had my control of fire, there were plenty of us who had most or all of the dragon skills. “Why would you think it’s unusual?”
“Because it is.” His tone edged toward mocking, and annoyance rose again.
“No, it’s not. Just about every draman born at Jamieson has full dragon skills.” I shivered again and stoked the fires a little bit higher, trying to chase away the growing chill.
“Interesting,” he said softly, then offered me the coat. “Here, take this and cool the furnace. If this Angus is a sea dragon, he’ll sense your fire and run long before we get to him.”
“Thanks.” I handed him my red bag and slipped my arms into the coat sleeves. It was quite a bit longer on me than on him, swallowing my hands and dropping past my knees. But it was thick and warm, and filled with the raw scent of him. I flared my nostrils, drawing in the aroma, letting it slide across my senses.
Then I took back my bag, and said, “When you say ‘interesting,’ does that mean you didn’t know about it?”
“The council knew it was happening. I don’t believe they’re aware it’s occurring in such numbers.”
I frowned. “But I was under the impression it was happening in all the cliques.”
“No, it’s not. It seems to be just the seaside cliques.”
“But why? And how did the council find out about it? I doubt our king would offer such information.” He wasn’t the caring-and-sharing type—especially when breeding too many draman was forbidden by council law.
“He didn’t. But thirty-one years ago, there was an unapproved cleansing of a small seaside town. Your king denied any knowledge, but the council heard whispers that the town had been filled with his draman—many of whom had the skills of full dragons. They have been watching the seaside cliques ever since.”
A chill ran through me. Whale Point. It had to be. “So why would our king tell us that draman in all cliques were gaining dragon powers when he knows it’s not true?”
“I don’t know.” He hesitated, looking down at me, his expression no warmer than before, but maybe that was merely the face of a muerte rather than the man I was occasionally getting glimpses of. “But the Jamieson clique has always been something of a headache for the council.”
“Why?”
His expression didn’t alter, but I felt his contempt. It wrapped around me, as dark and as deep as the man. “Your king believes the cliques should be autonomous.”
I frowned. “But they basically are, aren’t they? I thought the council only ruled over decisions that affected all the cliques as a whole.”
“Yes and no. Securing our position in this human world is the council’s number-one priority, and everything the cliques do affects this.”
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