Chapter Six
The kiss scorched her.
There wasn’t anything soft or gentle in it, only fierce hunger that obliterated every kiss she’d ever had.
Not that she’d had a lot, but still, this was the type of kiss found only between the pages of a romance novel.
He slid his hand around the back of her neck and sank his fingers into her hair, holding her in place as electricity danced through her body.
When Deacon ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, she opened for him.
Something wild exploded in her chest, swallowing her whole.
One hit and she was hooked.
Sanity finally kicked in and Marion yanked away from him. Her chest heaved, and she wasn’t sure if it was from outrage or excitement. If she was honest with herself, she loved his fiery kiss, but she’d never admit it out loud.
“I never gave you permission to kiss me,” she said. She’d intended the words to come out harsh, but even to her own ears it sounded a tad breathy.
Deacon’s eyes narrowed. A tiny, salacious grin upturned one corner of his mouth. “I am sorry about that, but not sorry I kissed you.”
Words failed her. A little part of her was thrilled he was bold enough to take what he wanted, but that was a fantasy best left unsaid.
“Did you know minotaurs are passionate creatures?” he asked. “It stems from the rage that heats our blood. Bulls are stubborn. They’re angry. But all that fire makes us amazing lovers.”
“Conceited much?”
“Stating a fact.” He stepped closer, back into her sphere. “I’d be happy to prove it.”
Marion wanted to say yes, but sanity kept her silent. She’d just met this man, plus that little discovery that he wasn’t fully human.
“I don’t trust easily,” she said.
“You have trust issues at your tender age?”
“Not that tender.”
He cocked his head. “Really? You’re like, what, twenty-five?”
“Twenty-three. How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight, but don’t worry. I read that boys mature slower than girls, so that makes me about the same age as you.”
“Your understanding of biology astounds me.”
“Will you allow me to kiss you again?”
Her gaze flickered to his lips. “Why?”
“Because I liked kissing you, and I think you liked kissing me.”
She really, really didn’t want to admit that, so she bit her bottom lip in an effort to keep it closed.
Deacon must’ve read her mind, however, because he cradled her face.
There wasn’t a place to settle her hands, except against his chest. As she looked into his golden-amber eyes, she felt off-balance.
Almost like standing on a rocking ship, trying desperately to stay on her feet but the sway kept knocking her down.
As they stared into each other’s eyes, she grew nervous wondering what he saw.
Maybe a small-town girl that had to drive twenty minutes to the next town to find a bed partner that made her feel something besides apathy?
That she had no clue what to do with a man like him?
His gaze was penetrating, down past her confusion and disbelief.
Then he bent and ran his nose up the column of her neck, breathing her in before he settled his mouth tenderly on hers.
Unlike the one a moment ago, this time his lips were warm and gentle.
Igniting a spark that wove intimacy and exploration, sensation and desire.
Heartbeats merged, sharing something deeply significant.
A noise shattered that beautiful illusion.
Marion jerked back, eyes wide as she gulped in breaths. What was she doing, kissing this stranger?
“My place or yours?” he asked saucily.
Sex. She just kissed the hell out of him, so of course he must think she was easy, or na?ve. Maybe both. Was he trying to make her feel cheap? Trying to humiliate her?
“I, uh, have to go.”
How quickly could she get away? Were minotaurs fast? She tried to remember if she ever saw a running bull. Wait, wasn’t there a famous chief named Running Bull? Or was that Sitting Bull? And why was she thinking that?
“I can hear your thoughts going a mile a minute.”
Marion blinked, snapping out of her internal monologue.
“Will you allow me to leave? I promise I won’t say anything about your ... you know. You. Not that anyone would ever believe me.”
Deacon’s world was fascinating, but it wasn’t hers. Now that she had a lead on Peter’s whereabouts, she had no reason to ever see him again.
“Of course,” he replied.
He held out his hand, waiting. Slowly, she took hold, and he led her out of the office and down the hallway. The roar of the crowd reached them before they set foot back on the betting floor.
Now that she knew what to look for, it wasn’t hard to see the animal-like features.
Claws. Feathers. Fur. It was an entire universe she never knew existed.
It seemed Deacon was some sort of celebrity, because people came up to shake his hand.
Or get a selfie with him. Curiosity seekers glanced at her, but she tried to ignore them.
He escorted her back through the pipe, and soon the night greeted her. Deacon reached into his pants pocket and gave her a few bills.
“What’s this for?”
“I’d walk you to the taxi stand, but I’ve got a labyrinth to maintain.”
She held it out. “I don’t need your cash.”
“Take it. I insist.”
Marion jutted her chin back at fight club. “Do you do that every night?”
He shook his head. “Only Saturday nights. Makes people salivate for more, and that translates into heavy betting.”
“How many fights do you have in a night?”
“Minimum six, max ten.”
“Who’s fighting last?”
“Tonight is wolf against arctic wolf.”
“Which one is better?”
He gave a little shrug. “Arctic wolf has a stronger bite force, and better endurance, but they’re pretty much evenly matched.”
“Then take this hundred-dollar bill you gave me, and put it to win the arctic wolf.”
He grinned and plucked it from her fingers. “Well played.”
“Goodbye, Deacon.”
“Goodbye, Marion.”
There was no reason to linger. With a wave, she headed back to civilization. She hastily made her way to the lighted pathway, heading out of the lush foliage and into the concrete jungle where she flagged down a taxi. Moments later, she sped away, heading to her hotel.
Although their time together was short, it would be a long while before she forgot about Deacon.
She’d probably go the rest of her life looking at people and animals in a different light.
Wondering if they were human or shifter.
When the taxi stopped in front of the hotel, she brought up her bank app and tapped the screen to pay.
A few minutes later, she was in her room and sagged onto the bed.
Exhaustion hung like gravity. It had been a long day. A long two weeks.
Sucking in a deep breath, she called Peter’s grandmother. The call connected almost immediately.
“Marion,” Peter’s grandmother answered a bit out of breath.
“Hi, Grammy.”
“Did you find him?”
“I have a lead.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Grammy let out a huge sigh. “Where? What happened to him?”
“I haven’t found him yet, but I have a lead on a woman he was dating. I’m going to track her down tomorrow.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Marion. When you find him give him a stern finger shaking.”
She smiled. “I will, Grammy.”
She disconnected the call and headed to the desk in the room, where she had placed her laptop.
“If I was a large lizard woman, where would I hide in a big city?” Marion mused as she started Googling “Komodo dragons,” reading aloud.
“Holy crap, these reptiles can grow up to ten feet? They’re from Indonesia and thrive in a wet forest and savanna grassland.
Let’s look that up. Oh, here we go. ‘The Sinaga Cultural Center has a tropical rainforest located inside. Ten stories high and constructed of glass and steel, an oversized tropical greenhouse holds lush plant life shrubs and water pools.’”
She clicked for a few more details. The first name that came up on the board of directors was Shiel Sinaga. She also learned that “Sinaga” meant “dragon.” Go figure.
“Thank you for the lead, Deacon,” she whispered. “It was nice meeting you.”