17. Chapter 17 #2
Fuck. Daxton swallowed, picking up the current of Keiran’s disappointment. He’d endangered his people to protect Izzy. Keiran would have every right to strip him of his chief ranking.
“Isn’t hacking them back dangerous?” Izzy asked.
“It can be for those who don’t know the proper channels and ways to hide themselves using a VPN.
I can’t track the hacker down. Nor their name.
But I think I’ve seen spyware like this before—almost professional.
It’s not good, Izzy. He tracked Fotios’s and your lineage a year ago.
He knows your family line and can track you each time you’re reborn.
That’s how he found you this generation. ”
Fotios? Fear ran across the link, thick and acrid.
Just like when they discovered the laptop, Izzy’s side of the link thickened with darkness, as if to consume her.
Izzy stared off into the distance, but her eyes seemed trained on something that wasn’t there.
Daxton’s muscles bunched to go to her, but an image filtered across the link.
A tall figure with curly hair and a beard stood in his mind like a hallucination. He had the impression that the man was speaking to him—speaking to Izzy.
“I know he’s from my past, but I don’t know who he is,” Izzy said to the air.
“Izzy. Stay present.” Simon’s words and worried tone seemed to pierce the delusion.
Daxton’s heart constricted, not knowing what to think about that situation.
The darkness and her reaction told him she’d gone into a delusion before on the plane.
Immortality brought on many struggles, so he understood losing oneself in memories.
But it most likely meant Izzy had lost someone very close to her—maybe this Fotios person.
Daxton wanted to find the underlying cause of the disconnection, but she’d have to trust him more first.
She rubbed her forehead. “Has the house been compromised?”
“I don’t know. Nothing links this house to our families, nor did you give anything away on your laptop. If he’d figured out this location, something would have happened by now.”
“Pull the plug,” she said. “Clean up the house. Vacate immediately.”
A nervous weight fell off Daxton’s shoulders. She had made the right decision.
“Roger that, gaffer,” Simon said in an excited pitch. “Does this mean I get to call the emergency number?”
“We already have a team surrounding the house.” She turned around and met Daxton’s gaze through the Jeep window.
“Seriously?” Simon exclaimed. “And you didn’t tell me until now?”
“They’d just be a distraction.”
He sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“Stay safe, Simon.”
“Stay safe yourself. And while you’re at it, get laid. That was a superb specimen, if I say so myself.”
Keiran cracked up laughing, while Daxton coughed into his hand to muffle the heat rising in his throat.
Though his dragon rumbled with delighted warmth.
Izzy sighed before she walked back. She beamed red as she glared at them.
More tension left Daxton’s body as he shared in the humor with his Centurion.
Daxton welcomed Simon’s diffusing of the situation with humor—even if it had a different effect on Izzy.
“As much as I don’t appreciate you eavesdropping, at least you’re filled in,” she hissed.
Daxton sobered. “Apologies. Don’t worry about Simon. I’ll update the team. They’ll keep him safe.”
She nodded. “I would like to see the Archives.”
Keiran waved her to the right. “This way.”
She readjusted her duffel again before following Keiran.
Daxton fought the need to grab it from her.
He took up the rear, cursing himself as the twig of a woman walked, shoulders back, even when the weight pulled her to one side.
Her sweet, citrusy scent laced the clean air.
He would do anything to soak in it all day, just like he had done with the Florida sunshine she reminded him of.
By the time they reached the white cement pathway leading to the greenhouse, lines of regret marred her back. The extra weight of the duffel left its mark. Pride welled inside him as she continued without complaining.
She was quite the little package. Stubborn. Strong. Bitable. The last thought came from his dragon side, but he agreed.
At the greenhouse, she held the door open for him.
Daxton placed his hand over hers. A shock of sensation sizzled into his mind like a pet down his dragon’s spine.
She glanced back at him with wide eyes. Her throat bobbed.
At least he wasn’t the only one affected.
She removed her fingers from under his and walked into the building.
Small stepping-stones formed a path, while an array of grasses, shrubs, vines, and herbs from around the world covered everything else.
Izzy inspected her surroundings, intelligent gaze absorbing everything.
After taking the shortest path, they headed into the attached building.
This time, Izzy didn’t keep her hand on the glass door. How disappointing.
Stepping out of the humid greenhouse and into the library left goose bumps on his skin. He inhaled the bitter scent of coffee. The foyer hadn’t changed in the past few years. The hutch with a full coffee bar invited caffeine addicts. A tall, oval desk stood in front of them.
Izzy’s mouth held a slight curve as her gaze wandered adoringly over the surrounding books.
No doubt, she was calculating the number of pages and the time she’d spend in the museum-sized library.
Through the link, the two-story building became more than a place for Daxton to beat his head against the wall—something he’d done many times when studying.
To her, it existed to absorb, breathe, and eat up the knowledge of the world.
Heather, Pentros’s dragon librarian, peeked up from behind the main desk with “save me” eyes directed toward Daxton. He didn’t blame her. Mrs. Renly, the Warden, sat next to her, probably lecturing her. Keiran sure brought the cavalry. Though wherever the Archives traveled, Mrs. Renly would follow.
“Good morning, Keiran,” Mrs. Renly said. Her gaze skirted over Izzy with confusion before landing on Daxton. Fire scorched in those green depths as Mrs. Renly shot to her feet. And that was saying something for the seventy-year-old human—one of three living in the dragon capital.
“Daxton.” From Mrs. Renly’s lips, his name sounded like a curse. She moved her tiny, yet curvy body to the front of the desk. “What are you doing in the library?”
He gave her the smile he used to calm angry women. Her stance changed from curious to protective, similar to a dragon.
He chuckled. “Mrs. Renly, I see you haven’t forgotten me.”
She had a full head of gray hair instead of the peppering she had fifteen years earlier. A few more wrinkles hadn’t diminished her beautiful round cheeks and wide eyes.
“How could I forget you?” Her words pierced like sharp daggers. “You sent a corner of my library up in flames.”