As if sensing my thoughts, he laughs. “You’ve figured me out. I am indeed Azar.” He bows in greeting. His voice is smoky and thick, just like I remember it. He’s also pale. Pale pale, and I can see why the others think he’s an albino. I know he’s not, though. He’s just a really, really pale gold. I’d be willing to guess that his hair and eyes are the same shade and that somewhere on his body, he’s got the scale pattern that Dakh does.
Ravens flutter in my mind. I can practically hear Dakh growling.
Calm, Dakh. Be calm.
Azar tilts his head, and his smile grows wider.
I can feel his mind, Dakh tells me. He is reaching out, trying to communicate with me.
That makes me panic. I don’t trust him! Don’t talk to him. What if it’s a trap?
I will shut him out. Do not worry. Dakh’s thoughts turn crisp. You are the only one I will allow myself to connect with for now. I will trust no other.
Good.
“Am I interrupting?” Azar asks.
“How can you interrupt? I’m your prisoner.” I give him my sweetest smile and fold my hands in my lap. If we’re going to start a game of nicey-nice, I can play, too.
“Ah, no. You are my guest. And as your host, I’d like to invite you to dine with me.” He extends a hand to me. “Join me, please?”
I gaze at him warily.
I do not want you alone with him, Dakh growls.
Dakh, babe, I don’t have a choice. If I say no, they’re just going to make me go. They have guns. I get to my feet, gazing pointedly at the two bodyguards. “All right.”
Azar flexes his hand at me, waiting for me to put my hand in his.
Ugh. I wonder if I can get out of this. I can feel the ravens fluttering at Dakh’s mind, his helpless rage. I suspect Azar’s doing this because he knows Dakh will hate it. “My dragon doesn’t really like it when other people touch me,” I tell him, keeping my expression innocent. “It affects his control, and I’d hate for him to lose it when he struggles so hard to keep it.”
Azar ponders this and then snaps his hand shut. His grin widens. “Yes. Control is very important. Very well, then.” He turns and nods at his guards, then strides down the hall, leaving me no choice but to follow. The two guards continue to watch me until I step forward, and then fall into step behind me. As I suspected, it was less of an invitation and more of a demand.
I pad after him down the hall. I don’t have shoes on—I was kidnapped in my bed, after all—but the floors are relatively clean and swept, and I wonder how long this gang of “nomads” has been hanging out at this hotel…or if they took it over from someone else. I don’t like to think about what might have happened to that someone else.
They lead me down several flights of stairs and into the main lobby downstairs, clean and mostly bare of furniture. There’s a set of glass doors, and the two guards rush ahead to open them for Azar, who sweeps in like he’s a king. I follow, a little amused by this. He thinks he’s hot shit.
Dakh’s thoughts are an indecipherable swirl.
Calm, babe. We know his game. He can’t surprise us.
Do not trust.
Of that, I have no worries. I do not trust Azar in the slightest, which is why I’m not making a break for it.
47
SASHA
The guards hold the doors open, and as I step through I realize we’re entering what used to be the dining room. All of the tables have been cleared away, one very large table left in the center of the room. It’s covered in white, fresh linen, and as I get closer, I realize it’s not one table but several pushed together to make it seem like one of those long feast tables from medieval times. Azar sits at one end, and I wait, uncertain where I should sit. There’s only one more chair left and it’s right beside his, but that seems a little too…cozy for me.
Azar takes his hat off and removes his scarf, tossing them on the table, and then gestures that I should sit next to him. Hmm. I move forward and pull the chair back a few feet so I’m not practically in his lap while eating. I sit, and Azar just laughs, amused by my stubbornness.
“You are very loyal to your mate,” he comments as I fold my hands in my lap and stare at him. “It is not a trait I expected.”
“Because I’m human?”
“Because I thought if a drakoni had taken a human mate, he had stolen her away.” He takes off his sunglasses, and just as I’d suspected, his eyes are completely gold. He watches me skeptically. “Or did you challenge him?”
Aha. So he knows drakoni culture and he’s not even hiding it. “I did not challenge him. And I love…my dragon.” I almost spilled his name. I need to be more careful, I realize. Azar’s invited me to breakfast to get information out of me, I think. I need to take this time to get as much out of him as I can.
You are clever, my Sasha. You can do this.
Thanks, babe. I love you. I send him a surge of affection and keep my expression placid as someone comes out of the kitchen with a plate of food.
It’s Emma, and she looks startled as she approaches Azar with his breakfast. “I-I didn’t know you had company this morning.”
“It’s all right.” He waves a hand at her. “Bring another plate for my guest, unless she’d prefer to eat from my hand.”
“Another plate is great,” I say politely. I don’t even look at Emma. I can’t.
“Sure. Right away,” Emma says, and rushes back into the kitchen.
I study Azar as he picks at a bit of canned fruit on his plate. He’s eating a wealth of food for anyone in the After—a bowl of fruit cocktail, pancakes, and a bit of fresh meat. Whoever these nomads are, they aren’t starving. Azar looks healthy enough—he’s tall, but he’s not as thickly built as Dakh, who seems to be nothing but muscles and bronze skin. I study the differences between them, noting how Azar has hidden his drakoni features. His eyes are drakoni gold, of course, but I never see a hint of black fleck through them. Whatever makes the other dragons mad, he’s got this under control. The horns that Dakh has at his brow are missing on Azar, though there’s a hint of scarring on his forehead hidden by faint tattoos. His thick, pale hair has been cropped short, and his “talons” have been cut into blunt, thick nails. If you ignored his coloring and his eyes, he might be human.