Chapter Fifteen #2
“Do they have ice cream here?” Pendragon asked.
Michael rolled his eyes. “That’s pretty much of a sure thing. I’ll be right back.”
Ten minutes later, they were on the road again, Sophie savoring the crispy fried morsels of conch meat and Pendragon happily slurping up what had to be the biggest dish of ice cream that Dairy Queen had ever sold.
“I know you said the Sword would be found in the south because of the Celtic calendar and the symbolism,” Sophie said as she licked her fingers, “but if one of the Priory scholars brought it here, wouldn’t the South have won the war?”
“Good point,” Michael replied, “but remember, the spear was actually seen during World War II. I suspect the other relics may have surfaced around that time as well.”
“So why pick a Civil War site to hide the Sword, then? Why not a World War site?”
“Too new. If the relics did surface during the 1940s, there weren’t any museums built yet to honor the war—and the war was not fought on American soil. Besides, the irony of hiding the Sword that never lost a battle in some designated Confederate spot would be the perfect cover.”
“Well, Key West is as far south as you can get,” Sophie said.
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Michael answered.
And yet, several hours later, they walked out of the historical museum located in the East Martello Tower disappointed.
“We’ve still got Fort Taylor State Park to look at, as well as Fort Jefferson.”
Sophie raised her brows. “Going to the Dry Tortugas will be a whole day event. Do you think we can leave Pendragon that long?”
“I’ll get him some ice cream,” Michael said as they headed back to the SUV, “and make sure the “Do Not Disturb” sign is on the door. Meanwhile, we can play tourist tonight and hit Mallory Square and Pirate’s Alley.”
“It would be nice to relax for a few hours and not worry about the Sword,” Sophie admitted, “or dragons.”
Michael grinned. “Well, we have one dragon who unfortunately is turning out to be an excellent chaperone.”
Sophie felt herself blush. She had been thinking about breaking free of her more stoic self for one night and joining the revelers on Duval Street.
She’d been here once with friends while she was in college.
It had been a wild and unforgettable night.
She’d actually gotten drunk—or maybe it was stoned.
She’d never smoked pot, but plenty of people that night did, and she remembered the pungent odor.
Afterwards, she’d staggered off with a guy who looked a lot like Michael.
That had been the first time a man had spread her legs over his shoulders and—as if on cue, dampness grew between her thighs. If Michael…
She heard his soft laughter and felt her face heat even more. “Are you reading my mind?” she demanded as she tried to manage a glare.
“A little. You had your shields way down.” He chuckled and put his arm around her shoulder casually and then leaned over to whisper in her ear. “If that’s what you want, all you have to do is ask.”
His warm breath tickled her nape, sending delightful tingles down her spine while his hand draped over her collarbone, his fingertips a hairsbreadth away from brushing the tops of her breast. She felt like her knees had jellied.
Her traitorous body was doing it to her again.
She wanted this man. Shouldn’t want him.
Men were trouble, her rational mind said.
Her body’s every nerve fiber screamed otherwise.
They reached the car and Michael dropped his hand to open the door for her. Even though the late afternoon air was warm and humid, the place where his arm had been suddenly felt cold.
He grinned again as he pulled the seatbelt out for her. “Anytime, Sophie.”
She settled back against the headrest while he walked around to the driver’s side. Her thighs quivered. Good God. What if she actually said yes to Michael? She felt herself grow wet and folded her hands tightly in her lap.
Thank God for a dragon chaperone.
****
In spite of the fact that the trip to Fort Jefferson had not turned up any information about the Sword, Michael bit back a grin as the boat headed toward the mainland.
Sophie had been quiet for most of the trip, behaving very properly.
Almost primly. Right now, she was leaning over the rail, seemingly entranced by the crystalline water and the coral reefs below the boat.
But he knew better. She wanted him.
That knowledge, which he had gleaned when she let her shields slip, washed over him like the warm Floridian waters, leaving in their ebb the tendency to want to dive right into the surf and take her with him.
She liked oral sex.
By the Goddess, it was one of his favorite things to do. Making love to a woman—nuzzling, nibbling, licking, suckling, kissing—was not complete until he had fully tasted her. Everywhere.
Because now he knew she wanted him, he gathered those erotic images into a thought form and sent them to her with a gentle nudge. The form bounced back to his mind. Her shields were firmly back in place again.
But he was willing to wait. He was, after all, centuries old.
“We’ll travel up the western coast of Florida and stop at Ft. Myers,” he said as though they’d been having a conversation. “There were a couple of forts along the Caloosahatchee River during the Civil War. Maybe there’s something in the museum there.”
Sophie turned toward him. “Do you really think we’re going to find the Sword? This is as far south as we can get.”
“We’ve got the entire Gulf coast to check out,” Michael answered, “all the way to Brownsville if necessary.”
“Maybe we should have started looking in Texas, then,” she said wryly.
“Texas is more the Gateway to the West rather than a real part of the South,” Michael replied and then grinned. “Besides we wouldn’t have had the chance to travel together for the past ten days.”
She blushed and he got just a tiny glimpse of her thoughts. She was in bed, naked… Then the shield came back up. Michael felt his groin tighten. He really was not going to enjoy waiting.
Suddenly there was a flurry of movement on the deck as most of the tourists rushed over to the starboard side. “Whale!” someone yelled. “Oh, my God, it’s huge!”
“It’s a great white!” someone else hollered.
Michael frowned. Whales were not common in this area, especially not great whites, who preferred colder waters. He took Sophie’s arm and crossed over to the right side. Shading his eyes with his hand, he squinted across the shimmering water.
The surface rippled again as the mammal approached the surface much closer to the boat. Its head broke through and people started screaming.
“Sea monster!”
“It’s Nessie!” a college kid with a long, brown ponytail yelled.
“Sea dragon,” a woman screamed as the creature dove beneath the surface again.
Michael turned away and looked at Sophie. Her face was unusually pale in the sunlight.
“Sigurd,” he said.