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“It’s time we left.” Kol interrupted my thoughts and stood up, setting Seerie on the sofa. She circled once and curled into a ball again.
“Thank you for your time, Petrus. It was a pleasure meeting you.” I shook his hand.
“By all means. The pleasure was all mine. I’d always hoped to meet one of the famous Cades one of these days. You are welcome to come back if you should ever need.”
“I’d like that,” I said, meaning it, though I doubted I should ever have another occasion.
I glanced around at the rumpled stacks of papers, feathered quills, cluttered shelves of tomes, vials of potions, and pots of spices as I headed for the door. This place was haloed by everything good and whole and warm. I left feeling grateful for having met this eccentric, yet wise, old Morgon.
Once outside, Kol reassembled the harness with quick, sharp movements. A familiar vibration of energy surrounded him—a pulsing irritation emanating from within.
“What’s wrong? Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not.” He cinched the belt so tight around me, the air in my lungs whooshed out.
“Really? Because I think you are.”
He spun me around fast, a large hand wrapping my neck, thumb pressing into the hollow between my jaw and neck. His other hand was at my hip, clenching. I braced my hands on his shoulders, caught completely off guard. A look akin to despair marked every line on his face, his chest rising and falling too quickly. He closed his eyes, his thumb brushing along the edge of my jaw.
“Kol,” I whispered, knowing his dragon had him in some sort of desperate hold. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, he opened his eyes—pupils as thick, black slits, and irises glinting bright silver in the dark—full dragon eyes. I hitched in a breath.
“Fate is such a fucking, cruel bitch,” he grated.
His thumb crossed to my chin. He held me close, my breasts pressed against the hard steel of his chest. His otherworldly gaze, full of danger and promise, traced my lips hungrily.
He was not about to kiss me.
“Kol.” I gave a soft push against his chest. Immovable.
His thumb slipped down under my chin, sliding a sinuous line along the column of my throat to the hollow where my medal hung. He let his hand, gripping my neck, fall away from my body, seeming to come out of his weird trance.
“I need to fly,” he said to the air, not to me.
After spinning me back around so fast I stumbled, he clipped the rest of the harness on, gripped me around the waist in his iron hold, and rocketed up into the night sky. We climbed higher than before, so hard, so fast, I thought I would be sick. One arm held me tight. I knew enough about Morgons to understand that sometimes they couldn’t control their beast. Sometimes, the dragon controlled the man. For whatever reason, Kol’s beast had dug his claws in, nearly strangling him. I didn’t know why or what fate had to do with anything, but I did know I didn’t want him to suffer. Jessen had once told me that gentle touch soothed her husband when the beast was riding him hard.
I wrapped my arm across Kol’s forearm at my waist, trailing my hand up and down. He stopped our vertical ascent, evening out, and let the wind take us on a smooth ride. His grip loosened, but kept me close all the same.
When we descended into Gladium and landed near my car, he unbuckled and removed the harness in silence. I waited for him to say something, maybe apologize for losing it, but he didn’t. Not a word. Not even a look. As soon as he was free of the harness and of me, he lifted back into the sky, melding with the shadowy night, leaving me in complete and utter confusion. And oddly bereft.
