Chapter 4
Cyntag stepped inside and closed the door, his eyes narrowing.
Cold dread washed over Ruby. How in the hell had he known she was here?
He was supposed to be teaching. And she was sure that he hadn’t seen her.
She launched to her feet and slid out from behind his desk. Every excuse or bluff fled her mind.
Thankfully he spoke before anything dumb could roll out of her mouth. “Ruby, right? Ruby Salazaar?”
The blood drained from her face. He knew her. Keep cool and answer him. She swallowed what felt like a ball of sand.
No. Yes. What’s it to you? What came out was, “Yeah?” Brilliant, Ruby.
He stepped forward, reaching for her. Her street-smart instincts kicked in. Mon had taught her to look for a defensive weapon in her surroundings. At the yard, she could always lay her hand on a shard of metal or a screwdriver.
Her fingers touched a silver letter opener as he brushed past her and plucked a cell phone from the desk just as it began playing Queen’s We Are the Champions. He ignored the call, and the song stopped.
Since she already had her hand on the letter opener, she went with it, pulling it out of the leather cup and rubbing the curves of the silver dragon handle.
“It’s beautiful. Very detailed, even down to the talons.
” She wasn’t used to going for the gun; if she had, she’d have blown it for sure by overreacting.
What’s wrong with you? Cool and calm, calm and cool.
Not working. Her rash felt as though it was on fire.
Cyntag eyed the letter opener, obviously nobody’s fool. “And very sharp. I’ll take that.” He tugged it from her reluctant grasp but didn’t return it to the cup. “Moncrief finally sent you to me, then?” He glanced around. “He didn’t come with you?”
“He’s dead.” Which you know, considering you killed him. The words burned up her throat and singed her tongue. The rage, she could hardly hold it back.
Cool and calm, calm and cool, damn it.
His eyebrows, shaped like sleek raven’s wings, settled into a furrow. “Moncrief is dead? How?”
“You sent an orb, some kind of lightning thing, to kill him. Don’t play dumb with me.
” The words boiled out. So much for cool and calm.
“He said your name. I asked him who had done it, and on his dying breath, he said your name.” Now she’d accused him.
He would have to act, defend… or kill her.
She pulled the gun from the holster and leveled it at him, because the latter option was most likely.
An odd expression flickered across his face. “Ruby, what are you doing?”
Losing her mind, that’s what. Her heart thudded roughly in the area of her diaphragm, which was weird because that’s not where it resided.
She grabbed his phone and thumb-dialed her number with the same hand that held it.
Her brief outgoing message played, then the beep.
She shoved it toward him with her other hand.
“Say your name and admit it. Admit you had him killed.”
He was eerily cool, the way she should have been. “I didn’t kill Moncrief.”
“He said you did.”
“I don’t think he said that, Ruby.” God, the way he said her name, slow and smooth, like thick honey. “You obviously saw an orb kill him. You were upset, scared. Like you are now.”
She pushed the gun closer. “I’m not scared. I’m pissed. I know how to use this. I hit the center of the target nine times out of ten.”
“Impressive. Are you shaking like this while you’re aiming?” In a flash, he turned her around, shoved her arm aside, and tightened his grip on her wrist. His arms encircled her, his bare skin brushing against her arms.
A sharp click, then another, and the magazine dropped to the floor. “Is there a round in the chamber, Ruby?” his voice rasped close to her ear. “I don’t want to hurt your wrist, but I will if you don’t answer me.”
“No round.”
He flicked the safety anyway. “Then I suggest you release the weapon, and we’ll continue this conversation in a more civilized fashion.”
The gun fell from her hand, thudding on the floor. He took the phone from her other hand and disconnected, then set it on the desk. Finally, he released her. She moved as far from him as she could, rubbing her wrist.
He casually leaned back against his desk. “What exactly did Moncrief tell you about me?” Cyntag had a deliberate way of speaking, properly enunciating each word.
“I only know your name because Mon said it as he was dying.”
That seemed to surprise him. “You know nothing about me?”
You’re the Dragon Prince. Yeah, that would sound logical. Not that anything about this was logical. “I heard the message you left him. The police have it, by the way.” She glanced at her wrist, even though she wore no watch. “They’ll be here any time to question you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, hopefully buying her bluff. “What did you tell them about the orb?”
“Everything.”
Worry tensed the corners of his mouth. “The regular police?”
“Of course, what other—oh, I’m sure they contacted the FBI, the ATF… if an agency has initials, they’re involved. They—”
“Describe the orb.” Still pretending he knew nothing about it, huh? “It set the house on fire?”
“Yes, and how might you know that?”
His nostrils flared. “I smell the smoke on you. Tell me what happened.”
She intended to give him a cursory description and had to hand it to him, like an investigator, he extracted every detail from her. He even looked angry when she talked about how it blocked her escape.
“You must have been terrified.” Was he gloating?
“I was too busy trying to save my ass to be terrified.”
“Nobody saw it but you, right?”
“No, it hid when they arrived and”—she glanced toward the door—”someone should be here by now. The investigator warned me not to come on my own, but I wanted to talk to you first. Tell me why you killed him. Off the record.”
Cyntag didn’t look as though he were buying her bluff one iota.
He wasn’t exactly relaxed, but he wasn’t worried about a SWAT team bursting in either.
He walked to the window, placing his hands on the glass and letting out a long, frustrated breath.
Instantly, fog steamed around the perimeter of his palms and long fingers.
“You did not tell the police about the orb because they would think you were crazy. You’re smarter than that. ”
She inched toward the door.
“You may think you’re crazy.” He shook his head. “Old bastard wouldn’t listen to me. Thought he was invincible. When I saw that he called, I hoped he’d come to his senses, but he never called back. Now I know why.”
She reached for the door handle, and inexplicably Cyntag stood there, his hand tight over hers.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“How… how did you do that? I didn’t even see you move.” She tried to kick him in the groin. Another dumb idea, considering what he did for a living.
He didn’t hurt her, not much anyway. He did, however, pin her against the door, his thigh pressing the offending leg tight. His hands gripped her wrists and held them at her hips. “That is not a wise thing to do.”
Panic, and something she couldn’t name, fluttered through her at the feel of so much man and heat so close to her. She coaxed her bravado from where it had scurried and lifted her chin. “Afraid I’ll hurt you?”
“Once my instincts are triggered, it’s hard to stop. I’m sure I’ll hurt you. As of right now, I do not wish to do that. That may change as days go by.”
“Days?” Fear coiled around her chest. “What are you going to do, keep me… hostage?”
He let her question hang for an agonizing moment, as though he were considering it.
God, had she given him ideas? He said, “Not entirely.” That did not sound good, but before she could get too freaked out about it, he continued.
“Your uncle and I did not share a warm and loving opinion of each other, but I didn’t kill him.
Do you know why I would not harm one hair on his head? ”
She wanted to believe that the guy whose hard, muscular body pinned hers against the wall and who could no doubt break her neck with a flick of his fingers hadn’t killed her uncle. “I’ll play your silly game. Why didn’t you kill him?”
He gave her a chastising look. “Because his death puts you in danger, and I am your sworn protector. Moncrief had your best interest at heart, but I told him it was a bad idea to try thwarting nature. And fate. I have gone on with my life and hoped he made the right decision. But if he’s dead, I am now saddled with a neophyte who has no idea the danger that stalks her, the world into which she was born, or her own powers.
So believe me when I say, I would not wish death on him. ”
He stepped back enough so she could escape from the heat of his body. Except her knees buckled, and she had to lean against the door for support.
She stared at him. “Do you know how friggin’ crazy that just sounded?”
He shook his head and looked up to the ceiling. “So much to learn. So little time to do it. Such a buffoon.”
“You’re calling me a buffoon?” And who used that word, anyway?
“That remains to be seen. I meant your uncle. He left us in quite the mess.”
This conversation wasn’t going in any direction she could follow. “It’s been lovely, but I need to scream now. I mean, go now.” She reached for the door handle, and he closed his hand over her wrist in a firm grip.
Which again put him in close proximity. “The orb that killed Moncrief, you saw its power?” His voice was soft and deadly.
“You’re threatening me?”
“Enlightening you. You put a gun to my chest. If I could make an orb, wouldn’t I have used it against you then?”
Well… yeah.
He continued. “And, in fact, I’ve had you under my physical control twice. I could crack your neck like this.” He snapped his fingers.
Hadn’t she thought the same thing?
“And I did not. We need to find out who did kill Moncrief though, because he or she may well be after you, too.”