Chapter Thirteen #2
He blinked his cobalt eyes. “She let me do it more than once, and she made all those funny noises humans make. And afterwards,” he added with a thump of his tail that threatened to shred the leather on the dashboard, “she fed me ice cream. Chocolate ice cream. When did humans invent that wonderful concoction? I love ice cream.”
“Forget ice cream. If I let you stay with her, she’d be in danger. Somehow, Balor found out you’ve been downsized, and he wants to capture you while you’re in that state.”
Pendragon sobered. “If I returned to my full size—”
“No. He’d find you for sure then. I can’t split my power trying to protect you and Sophie too. Once I find her, that is.”
“She’s at that Smith man’s mansion.”
Michael gave him a quick look. “Smith was one of the first people I called. The butler said she wasn’t there.”
Pendragon lifted a leathery wing in what seemed to be the equivalent of a human shrug. “He lied.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“Because,” he said smugly, “that other vet told Stephanie last night on the phone.”
Michael pulled over to the side of the road. “She what?”
“Last night on the phone,” the dragon said in a pseudo-patient voice, “Stephanie called the vet to ask her what to feed a…a Gila monster, and then she asked if there was any news about Sophie. Allison said Sophie had called her.” His lips curled back again. “They didn’t think I understood English.”
Michael started the car and slipped back into traffic. “I was planning to keep you at my place since it’s already been burglarized, but I think now we’ll just stop in so I can pack some clothes, and we’ll head to Smith’s. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
Moments later they pulled into his parking lot. Michael paused at the door. The wards he’d reconstructed were still in place, so no one had returned. “We’re okay,” he said and opened the door.
Pendragon slipped past him and headed to the kitchen. “Do you have any ice cream?” he asked.
“No.”
“I love ice cream,” the dragon said in a hurtful tone. “Don’t I deserve a reward for finding Sophie for you?”
Michael shook his head as he headed toward his bedroom. “Mr. Smith’s kitchens probably have all kinds of flavors. Just let me pull a few things together.”
“Well, hurry, then.”
Michael pulled a backpack out of the closet and threw some toiletries along with jeans and T-shirts into it.
He glanced at the Templar cross lying on his dresser.
He usually left it home because it had tracking qualities that another Immortal could use to find him, but it could also be protective—and Lucas had left it behind for him.
Wrapping it in a strip of white silk that he used for rituals, he laid it in the backpack and returned to the living room.
Pendragon was sitting by the door, oddly contemplative. He sat so still, he seemed to be more statue than alive. Only the raised spikes on his neck bespoke trouble.
“What is it?” Michael asked.
“Sigurd.”
“The white dragon?”
Pendragon nodded. “I smelt him before, but he was leagues away and something was binding him. He’s much closer now.” He stood, shaking his scales, turning them into armor. “And he’s loose.”
****
Sophie paused at the top of the stairs, wondering if her ears were playing tricks on her. She could have sworn she heard Michael’s rumbling baritone in the hall below. She had dreamed about him again last night, another erotic dream from which she’d awakened hot and wet and wanting him.
“I know Sophie’s here, Benton. She called Allison yesterday.”
Damn! It was him! Sophie leaned against the wall. She’d known better than to call Alli, but she wanted to check on her horse. If Robert had followed him—
Straightening her shoulders, she reached for the handrail. Michael was here. If he had been followed, there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. And she didn’t want to make the butler or Mr. Smith lie for her any longer.
She made her way carefully down, taking one step at a time, the way the physical therapist had showed her to do. Reaching the bottom, she extended the four-pronged walking cane and walked slowly toward the foyer.
“I’m sorry, sir—”
“It’s all right, Benton. I’ll talk to him,” Sophie said and met Michael’s gaze.
Heat washed over her like a hot flash at the smoldering look in his dark eyes.
They practically burned into her as he contemplated every inch of her, starting with her mouth, lingering on her breasts, moving downward past her waist. She felt dampness gather between her legs and leaned on the cane for support.
Dear God, if he could practically make her come with just a look…
The dragon smirked, lifting a corner of his mouth to expose a fang. “Glad to see us?” he asked.
Before she could answer, Mr. Smith came into the hall. “I thought I heard voices in here.” He looked quickly from Michael to Sophie. “Is everything all right?”
“No, everything is not all right,” Michael replied, “and I’m not talking about why Sophie decided she should hide from me. The white dragon has been turned loose, which means that Balor is probably hot on our trail.”
“Oh, dear. I thought that nasty man was in London,” Mr. Smith said.
“He’s been spotted in Dallas,” Michael answered and gave Sophie a discerning look. “Are you well enough to travel?”
“She’s supposed to have another week of therapy—”
“I’m fine,” Sophie interposed. “The therapist said yesterday that my leg healed faster than any she’s ever seen.” She held up her cane. “If I use this, I shouldn’t have any problems. When do you want to leave?”
“The sooner the better,” Michael replied. “I’ll call the airlines and see what the earliest flight to Charleston is.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Smith said. “I’ll arrange for my private plane to fly you there. It will take less than an hour for the pilot to have a flight plan ready.” He turned to Sophie. “My dear, are you sure you’re well enough to do this?”
She nodded. “We’ve delayed long enough. If we can leave this evening, perhaps no one will follow us.”