12. Chapter 12
Izzy’s focus on Cornelius’s journal waned as Daxton drove them to the airport. Daxton’s scent filled the clean and spacious SUV with an addicting, fiery sensation, like dried peppers. It reminded her of the molecule responsible for their spiciness, capsaicin, if it had an aroma.
Worries about the Archfiend should have pressed at her, but sitting beside Daxton barricaded her against those thoughts. Assuredness poured out of his relaxed exterior yet straight posture, calming her, but a shred of anxiety wiggled in her chest.
“If you still have friends here even after irritating the chief”—Izzy bit her lip—“could you call in some and set up a perimeter around the house? It’s just the fewer people who come into the house, the safer it’ll be, and I’d rather Simon not interrogate—”
“No need to worry. I was going to ask you.”
A weight lifted from her chest. “Thank you.”
“Would you care if I made a call?”
She shook her head. “Go ahead.”
Curling her legs under herself, she hid her face behind the journal, acting as if she wasn’t paying attention.
The phone rang twice before a husky male voice answered, “Special Agent Raz—damn it. I’m all out of favors, Dyamur.”
“It’s a Tattered One.”
“What do you need?”
That was a quick change—they must take this seriously.
“A perimeter in Wilgon Territory,” Daxton said. “Percy’s not going to listen to anything I ask of him.”
“Burning chief bridges already?” Raz asked.
“I’ve been doing that since I was born.”
She peeked up as Daxton’s face softened around the edges. What kind of man is he?
Raz laughed. “There’s only four of us. And I’m sure the others might ask for payment. If you forget, we Rogues don’t receive clan handouts, and pausing our lives isn’t easy.”
“I’ll get you guys tickets to the next Super Bowl.” As if it was a common enough transaction, Daxton continued, “Yes, indoor suite tickets.”
“Send me the details, and I’ll discuss it with the others.”
“Thank you.” He hung up.
“I thought Rogue dragons were hunted and killed?” The words slipped from Izzy’s lips.
“You sure read fast. The Centurion in America is different. If they swear to follow a few rules, he leaves them alone.”
He sounded like a fair dragon ruler.
A silence ensued, prickling at her nerves. She lived for comfortable stillness, but she fidgeted in her seat, craving conversation from the man next to her. It disturbed her. Hands tightening on the soft leather book, she forced herself to concentrate on the writing.
The Centurion’s veiled sexual comments included descriptions like “the sensitive button sewn into flesh was the color of dark rose petals” that made Izzy squirm.
Would Daxton say things like that about me? She fumbled with her glasses. Seriously Izzy, get your head on straight.
Despite Cornelius’s perverse words, he maintained meticulous records of dragons and Archfiends—the journal’s true purpose. She read his description of a female dragon’s body as “impenetrable as diamond,” and her body tensed. It seemed dragons might share similarities to Archangels.
She tried to ignore the festering emotion she hated—envy. It might have been metaphorical, but Cornelius used the explanation during a battle description.
Daxton took a sharp curve.
Izzy’s body conked into the door, and Simon’s manga slid across the dashboard. Huffing, she leaned forward to snatch it. You don’t have to be in such a rush. She glared at Daxton, who stared at the road.
As she flipped through the manga’s pages, her mind began to cloud with a creeping unease. Each page brought with it a deeper descent into worry. She’d allowed him to buy it because it saved her from having to explain her story, but Daxton’s kind wouldn’t take long to demand answers.
Gripping the book in trembling fingers, she reassured herself that none of the content had betrayed Fallen weaknesses. That information she kept to herself.
How could she tell the Fallen about the dragons?
She could leave a message on their private server.
But typed words were far too impersonal, and she wasn’t sure how they would react.
Would they seek the dragons for security, or would they fear them?
To better monitor their response, she preferred to communicate in person.
But she rarely encountered other Fallen, except Thea.
With an inner sigh, she placed the manga in the middle console. She would worry about issues she couldn’t control later. Raising her head, she met Daxton’s hurried glance. She felt hot all over, like a kettle ready to pop if she didn’t say something.
“How did—”
“Are your—”
He quirked a grin in her direction. The expression transformed his face into open and inviting instead of an intimidating wall.
She waved her hand. “You go first.”
“I wanted to know how you met Simon. Has he always been a pickpocket?”
A snort tickled her throat. “Yes. In fact, we met because he stole an Armand-Hippolyte-Louis Fizeau publication about the speed of light from me. He took it out of my bag when we passed in the street. I chased after him, but I found him understanding it. At first, I adopted him as my protégé, but his perceptive eye didn’t take long to realize I wasn’t normal.
He harassed me for nearly a year before I told him the truth.
” A soft smile played on her lips. She had been stubborn, but Simon had been more so.
“How long have you known him?”
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She had no reason to fear his innocent query, but the explanation would spur questions, and she didn’t trust him with the answers about Miracles just yet.
She faced the window, hoping he wouldn’t catch her shifting eyes. “He was twenty-two when I found him, so awhile.”
“Hmm…”
His tone gave nothing away, and he didn’t press. Instead, he asked, “So, what was your question?”
“Are your scales as strong as diamonds?” She fought to keep the frown from her face. The thought had been troubling her ever since she read it.
“Why do you want to know?” His gaze dropped to her nails as she dug them into the journal binding, scraping the soft-with-age leather. “Does the idea bother you?”
She pulled her legs in closer. He read her so easily. “Answer the question, and I’ll answer yours.”
“We have described the heavier scales flanking our organs as such. I’m sure some dragons have tested the theory.”
Her envy rampaged, sending heat up her back.
She settled into the plush leather of her seat and breathed out to calm her mind.
With a clearer head, she spoke freely about her kind, knowing she wasn’t giving away any harmful information.
“Where I was before we fell, light was more solid than it is here, and we used it to strike down our enemies. On Earth, our light can act like a laser, though it requires intense energy and concentration. Its cutting ability depends upon the color of the light.”
“Violet is the strongest and red the weakest? Simon’s manga mentioned your Spirit Spectrum like the rainbow.”
“Yes. The Fallen had traditions before the Archfiends, and one was to use our power to cut, blend, and mold swords from a mineral matching our light. Since I have yellow, I polished sphalerite into a weapon. Diamond belongs to the strongest power designation—black. Something Simon didn’t mention in the manga. ”
Why is he so easy to talk to? At her pause, he lifted his eyebrows in question.
“The beings who wield black, for lack of a better human term, are the Archangels. The Supreme’s top generals.
” She intertwined her fingers over the book.
“They took a form much like ours but offered us no aid or answers. They only mocked us and showed off their power with the diamond blades. To this day, I don’t believe an Archfiend has ever reached an Archangel-equivalent light energy. ”
“There’s a singular case in a previous Centurion’s records where a Tattered One had a violet light,” Daxton said. “It took an entire cinder of dragons to stop it. I can’t imagine one with black.”
“How do you terminate them?”
The tendons in his arms tensed, and a pained expression crossed his face. “We petrify them with our dragon’s black flame.”
A flame great enough to destroy Archfiends. No wonder demons fear them. “It seems you are Archangels in disguise.” The words tasted bitter. She’d never had a strong power. Before falling, she didn’t mind her position as a supplier in the angel militia, but she had her moments of greed.
Daxton chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Just the idea of a giant lizard being compared to an Archangel.” He smiled. “Trust me, there’s nothing that civil or well-mannered about our beast side.”
Her heartbeat quickened and her lips threatened to smile. She hadn’t expected his humbling humor. Learning about the dragons had preoccupied her so much, she’d never learned about Daxton other than the deductions she’d made about him.
The link between them whispered of a loyal man.
Protective. Caring. Charismatic. Familiar sensations that had enveloped her in a deep embrace when she’d been in his Spirit Cavity.
She stared at the passing scenery outside until he leaned forward, crinkling the chair.
Pop music from the radio filled the vehicle.
After flipping through the channels, he settled on a talk station giving details about stock exchanges.
It seems Daxton Dyamur has his hands in Wall Street.
Izzy tuned out the listing of pointless numbers while she struggled to concentrate on Cornelius’s journal. When Daxton slowed and traveled over a large bump, she glanced up. They pulled into a small municipal airport.
He parked the SUV and shifted toward her. “I know I’m late in saying this.”
She tilted her head, speculating why he murmured the words with a flirtatious grin.
“But you can consider this dragon your diamond blade.”
“All right, Mr. Dyamur and precious cargo I have yet to learn the name of, this is your captain speaking. We’re going to be taking off for New Hampshire, so please find your seats and secure your belts.”
Izzy’s first ride in the private jet, while she’d been recovering within Sarah, had shown Daxton’s wealth. But the blemish-free leather-and-oak interior of the plane signaled more wealth than she’d first suspected.
Daxton stood at the bar getting them drinks. She sat in an area where four chairs faced each other.
“Here you are,” Daxton said, walking up behind her.
She took the glass, and he sat in front of her. Sipping the water, she avoided his gaze. Each time she looked at him, her heart pounded. When he’d suggested himself as her sword, it was as if he’d offered her a little piece of the Heaven she longed for. And to her, that meant everything.
Breathing in for a count of four and exhaling for the same, she forced herself back to a semblance of control.
She couldn’t avoid him, so after placing her drink in the cupholder, she twisted toward him.
He stared outside, keeping her from the full impact of his bronze eyes.
Her heart rampaged, and she steadied herself with more deep breaths.
He’s just a man. Someone with a dragon for a spirit and features that made her libido do odd things, but a man, nonetheless. Yet, at the tiniest movement of his arm, she whipped toward the window. Coward, she huffed at herself.
She rested her forehead against the glass and daydreamed about brushing her fingers through the clouds they’d soon be joining.
With her eyes closed, she swallowed around a painful lump.
Using her light energy, she could fill in her spirit wings but wasn’t strong enough to battle against intense winds.
It restricted her to low heights or indoor flight.
Neither of which quenched her appetite. It was as if she were a bird with an innate need to soar but born featherless.
As the plane took off, dizziness pounded against her head, her ears rang, and she had to straighten up to keep herself from leaning to one side.
She cursed herself for being so susceptible to vertigo at takeoff.
For a flying being, it was comical that her human body had issues with being in a plane.
Other times when she flew, she talked to Simon to distract herself.
“What is it you do?” she asked.
He craned his head toward her. After taking a hurried, yet thorough, examination of her features, he looked back outside. “You didn’t look into Daxton Dupont?”
“The majority shareholder of Prater Properties? I get it. The identity fits. But that only speaks to one part of your job.”
“Oh? What’s the other part?”
She found the tilting of his lips fascinating. Profiling using deduction was a simple exercise for her brain. She’d been putting pieces together ever since she’d met him. His mannerisms, apparel, and appearance told a story.
“You’ve been wearing a pair of well-worn, steel-toed boots, and your hands have old calluses on the palms. Both hint toward someone who’s used to a career in physical labor, likely something in construction.”
His intense bronze eyes gleamed.
Heat rose to her cheeks. “Few trade careers offer the amount of revenue you make. I’m thinking you started a career in construction, which turned into Prater Properties that flips real estate for corporations.
Your tan lines and recent blisters”—she nodded toward his hands—“suggest you can’t help yourself from doing what you enjoy—the physical labor.
I’d wager you’ve tried working at different levels within the company. ”
The look he gave her displayed all the praise she needed to go up in flames.
His smile opened his face and sharpened the hard angles of his jaw, making him far too handsome.
Because of that, she wouldn’t tell him that the muscles in his arms hinted at heavy lifting done regularly.
Or that the slight unevenness of his right side compared to the left spoke of someone who did the work out of necessity, not because of gym training.
Or that oil stains and dirt particles also clung to the jeans hugging his muscular legs.
“Your brain is something else,” he said, leaning forward. “I do go between being a worker, supervisor, and majority shareholder there. It depends on my mood.”
That’s different. Her family would have rather plucked their eyes out than do the manual labor in their business. Her current mother refused to cook or do her own laundry. I guess some businesspeople aren’t like my family.
“I could use someone like you on my team,” he said.
How many others had told her the same thing? “Not interested.”
“I’m not that bad of an employer.”
“If you were, your pilot wouldn’t joke around the way he does.”
“Touché.”
“Business just isn’t my subject.” My family has made sure of that.
Wisps of clouds floated below them. Her skin prickled with heat from Daxton’s pointed stare. She had a feeling he saw straight through her cold facade.