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“Not that out of date.” But he shrugged and continued reading.
After a few more minutes, I leaned against the table and asked curiously, “Is there any king who is actually considered revolutionary in his thinking?” I hadn’t heard of any, but my knowledge of other cliques and their kings was limited. “As in actually supporting equal rights for the draman?”
“No dragon in their right mind would ever consider that.” He said it almost absently, then, as if realizing exactly what he’d said, glanced at me sharply. His dark eyes, so warm and open only minutes before, were noticeably cooler. The dragon was replacing the lover, and somewhere inside I mourned the loss—even if I wasn’t surprised by it. “Dragon civilization has existed successfully for thousands of generations. You won’t find many who are willing to upset the balance. Not when it has worked for so long.”
“But the world is changing, and draman are becoming what the dragons are. You lot need to face that, or there will be consequences.”
His smile was harsh. “It’s only the sea cliques who appear to be producing draman with dragon skills. It would be easy to fix that, if the council wishes.”
Anger swirled at the cool, calm way he spoke about the destruction of hundreds of draman—because that’s exactly what he meant by “fix”—but I somehow managed to keep it in check. “And you can see nothing wrong with that?”
“This isn’t personal, Mercy—”
“How can it not be personal?” I thrust to my feet, unable to sit there any longer. “Damn it, I’m draman. Are you saying that if the council ordered it, you would steal my fire and make me even less than I already am? That you would do it without regret, knowing it is necessary to protect the so-called greater race?”
He frowned. “I would never—”
r /> “Why not?” I snapped, “I’m just another worthless draman, aren’t I? Good enough to take to bed or to keep around to do those nasty little tasks, but God forbid we ever be treated as equals, let alone fairly.”
He reached for me, but I stepped back, sending the chair clattering backward. He sighed, but there was little in the way of compassion in his expression as he said, “I would never do anything like that to you, Mercy. I wouldn’t even let anyone else do it, either. But facts are facts. Draman having dragon skills might be dangerous for us all.”
“No more dangerous than rearing young dragons. You said it yourself—draman are a part of the dragon culture. All we’re asking is to be a proper part of it.”
“Which probably won’t happen in my lifetime or yours. Old ways are hard to break down.”
“That doesn’t mean you and I can’t be the ones to try.”
He didn’t say anything to that, just dropped his gaze back to the netbook. I wanted to scream in frustration, but what was the point? Death and I might be amazingly compatible in the bedroom, but the truth was, he was an integral part of the machine I’d spent my whole life either fighting or running from, and he was never, ever, going to understand what I was trying to say. I had no idea why I even kept trying.
Because you like him, an inner voice said. Because you still believe things can change.
Because I’m an idiot, I added silently.
I picked up my mug and walked across to the window. The golden rays of the rising sun caressed my skin and I breathed deep, drawing in the energy and refueling the inner fires. Though the dawn was bright, pink-tipped clouds were gathering. I hoped it wasn’t an omen.
My gaze went to the road. It snaked along the coastline, a band of shiny black that reminded me a little of Damon’s stain. A white car cruised past slowly, its occupants obviously enjoying the view.
Only the car looked horribly familiar.
“Damon—”
He was beside me, looking out the window, before I’d finished. Maybe he’d sensed the sudden tension in me, although that would suggest an awareness and a connection he’d certainly never admit to.
He swore softly. “That’s the same car that tried to run you down in San Francisco.”
“But there have to be thousands—millions—of white cars around.” I was reaching for straws, I knew that, but I just didn’t want to believe that they’d found us again so quickly. “How can you be sure it’s the same one?”
“Because I remember the plate number.”
“You can see that from up here?”
“I have very good vision.” His attention was still on the car, and his whole body practically thrummed with the tension flowing through him. “Get your stuff together, Mercy; we need to leave. And keep away from the windows. I may not be the only one with good sight.”
I ran for the bathroom and grabbed my underclothing from the side of the bath, mighty glad it had dried overnight. The rest of my clothes—which I’d also washed in between our bouts of lovemaking—hadn’t, but I had no intention of wearing them anyway. I simply scooped them up, then went into the next bedroom and raided the closet. It took several tries to find a pair of jeans that fit me, but a sweater and T-shirt were less problematic. As was a raincoat.
Damon’s gaze slid down my body as I reentered the bedroom, and the smile that touched his lips had my heart doing happy little flip-flops. Then his gaze slid back up to my hair. “I think we’ll need to dye that.”
“Cool with me, but that means stopping by a store. There’s nothing here.” I knew because I’d looked, having had much the same thought. Dyeing my hair might not stop the guy who’d gotten the scent of me, but at least it would stop a cursory recognition.
