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I couldn’t control the longing that overtook my body. It had been so long since I’d been touched—since I’d wanted a man to touch me. I turned toward the window, deliberately slowing my pulse, and tried to figure out how I’d lost the upper hand.
The miles of nothing but road and trees finally merged into civilization, and Noah turned into a dimly lit parking lot. He parked the Jeep in front of a three-story log cabin that had a wide wraparound porch with an assortment of rocking chairs.
Noah came around to my side of the car and opened the door for me. He held out his hand, and I stared at it like it was a foreign object, trying to decide if I wanted to risk what seemed to happen to me every time we touched. He quirked a challenging brow at me and I made sure my shields were as strong as I was capable of before I touched my hand to his. Nothing. Thank gods.
I let go as soon as possible, and we walked side by side up a cobbled walkway that was lined with brass lanterns. They glowed a soft yellow against the dark, and cast odd shadows across our feet as we passed by them. The front door was painted bright red and flanked by two big urns, spilling over the edges with ivy. The boards of the porch creaked under our feet.
“Welcome,” an older woman said as we entered the cabin. Her voice was brittle with age, and the lines on her face were etched deeply. Her eyes were a milky shade of blue and her shoulders were stooped with arthritis. I thought not for the first time that it must suck to be completely human.
A row of brass hooks lined the wall, and she took our coats and hung them there.
“Table for two, please,” Noah said. “Somewhere private if there’s room.”
“Certainly. Right this way.”
She led us to a table in the far corner. No one was seated around us, which I was grateful for, because I had a feeling dinner might get a little intense.
“I’ll have a beer,” Noah told our server. “Whatever you have on tap will be fine.”
“The same for me,” I said. Noah quirked his brow at my choice, but didn’t say anything. I guess I didn’t look like a beer drinker to him.
“So,” he said once we were alone. “I want to get back to something you said earlier. Just how do you plan to use me?” The seductive glint was back in his eyes, and I laughed before I could control it. Noah Ford was different. I liked that in a man.
“What are you?” I’d caught him by surprise just as the server brought back our drinks.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked stiffly.
“Ooh, you’re really good at that lord of the manor voice. But I think it’s wasted on me. I want to know what you are,” I repeated, more serious this time. “No one who can block me like you did today can be without power.” I let the edge of violence I tried to keep contained around humans seep out, and he responded to it. Just not in the way I thought he would. His pupils grew large with desire and his foot bumped mine slightly under the table. Just the touch was as intense as any foreplay I’d ever experienced.
“I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer one of mine first.”
“Fine. Ask it.” He took my hand in his and held it loosely. I gasped in reaction to the touch, but it was purely physical this time.
“Did you ever know your mother?”
The feelings of pleasure died a swift death. I tried to pull my hand out of his grasp just out of reflex, but his fingers tightened around my wrist and kept me captive. I didn’t know why, but my first instinct was to run and never look back.
My anger was swift, and I could feel my inner dragon fire building within me. I’d never been able to manifest physical fire like many other dragons, but when I became angry, intense heat suffused my skin and my eyes flamed bright red.
I looked down at the green trim of my napkin until I was sure the red was gone from my eyes. I listened closely to his heartbeat and slowed mine to match its pace. I stopped pulling against his hand and finally looked up at him, completely under control.
“No.” I didn’t explain further, and he let it go. “Now answer my question. What are you?”
“Much like you, I imagine.”
“I doubt that.”
“I’ve been known to see things. It’s why I was asked to join the FBI.”
“You’re psychic,” I said, feeling as if things were falling into place. It certainly made me feel better about why I couldn’t read him. “You must be very powerful to be able to block me.”
“I don’t want to brag,” he said.
We paused our conversation as the server took our order. Noah ordered lobster, and I ordered a steak—rare. No vegetables. No side dishes. Just meat. It was a point in his favor that he acted like my food choice was nothing out of the ordinary.
“I believe it’s my turn to ask a question,” Noah said. I was ready for more probes about my mother or childhood, but instead he turned my question back on me and asked, “What are you? And I don’t mean psychic. I’ve been studying you a long time. And I mean alongtime.”
The implication wasn’t lost on me. “I think this conversation is getting too personal for my tastes. Why don’t we agree on a stalemate until we get to know one another a little better? I can’t be out too late tonight. I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow.”
