10. Arthur
ARTHUR
I was losing control of myself.
Not outwardly. Outwardly, I was the picture of calm, the way I had been trained. The way an alpha should be. I was everything my father had valued. Stillness. Authority without explanation. Desire treated as noise to be ignored.
But inside?
Inside was a mess.
I had never felt such a pull toward a woman. Not once. Not ever. But something had lodged itself under my ribs the moment she touched me in the library, and now it refused to let go.
I glanced over at her. I shouldn’t have. I did it anyway.
She sat curled into the seat, her legs drawn slightly inward, her cardigan bunched at the elbows.
Her red hair had come loose, falling in uneven, soft-looking strands.
I could not look away. She wore a soft green dress under the sweater, which looked comfortable and practical and somehow captured all my attention.
Her shoes were simple. Her bag rested on her lap as if she needed the weight of it to ground her.
She was beautiful. Not in the loud, polished way some valued, but in a real way. An honest way. I would not have changed a single thing about her.
I gripped the wheel a little tighter.
The scene in the hallway kept replaying in my mind.
The man staring at her, his crude words.
I had wanted to tear out his throat. I would have, if she hadn’t been looking at me.
If she had seen me do that, she would have screamed.
She would have run. I chose restraint because it kept her safe.
Because I didn’t want her to be afraid of me.
I didn’t want to lose her. Not when I had only just begun to know her.
I had a ridiculous urge to scoop her up and carry her away from any and every threat she might ever encounter again. It rose in me every time she looked at me with those wide blue eyes that held more gentleness than I deserved.
I couldn’t give in to that urge.
I had a clan relying on me. I had a mystery to solve—a life-giving mystery that could change the fate of every dragon in my clan. I had no time for romance—or whatever this was. I had meant that when I told her.
Needed to mean it.
So why did my stomach twist whenever I replayed the look on her face when I said it? Why did something inside me feel wrong? Why did it feel like I’d lied? And why did it feel like I’d hurt her?
I needed focus. I needed sense. I needed distance.
Instead, I kept glancing at her.
She looked lost in thought as she gazed out the window, tapping her fingers on her knee. Even as the pull toward her grew stronger, her presence calmed me.
My chest constricted again.
The phone mounted on my dash rang, startling both of us. The screen lit up with Caliban’s face. Of course he had chosen to make it a video call.
I swiped to answer.
Caliban filled the screen with his usual unimpressed stare. His hair stood at strange angles as if he had been fighting the wind. “You missed another council meeting.”
A muscle in my jaw tensed. “I am handling something important.”
“You always say that.” He leaned closer to the camera. “Did you at least find the book? Did you locate the missing histories? Did you—”
“I’m driving, Caliban.”
Caliban ignored that. “Have you considered there may be a ward on your ancestor’s—”
I coughed sharply.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
I coughed again, more forceful. “Passenger,” I said.
Caliban’s eyebrows shot up. “Passenger. What kind of passenger?”
I turned the phone slightly toward Artie.
She smiled and waved awkwardly. “Hello.”
Caliban nearly fell out of frame. “Arthur. Arthur, you did not mention a woman in the vehicle. You cannot spring these things on me.”
“She’s assisting me,” I said. “Don't mind him, Artemis. He’s getting senile in old age.”
Caliban sputtered. “I am not senile. I am barely past midlife. I can still map a rune field in my sleep. You, on the other hand, cannot even—”
I ended the call.
Silence filled the car.
Artemis covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “He seems… charming.”
“He’s old,” I said. “And loud.”
She laughed harder.
The sound hit me like a warm rush through my ribs.
I was in trouble. I knew I was.
But for the first time in a long time, trouble did not feel like something I wanted to avoid.
It felt like something I wanted to walk toward.
The drive into Pittsburgh had settled me a bit, even though my chest still felt tight from the hours before.
The skyline rose ahead of us in sharp angles and glass, the rivers cutting clean lines through the city.
Bridges arched everywhere, bright steel against the late afternoon light.
Artemis pressed her hand to the window as we crossed the Fort Pitt Bridge, her excitement radiating through the car with a warmth that dug deeper under my ribs than I wanted to admit.
She leaned forward in the seat when the building finally came into view. “We’re here,” she said a little breathlessly.
The main branch of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh stood ahead of us with its stone columns and tall windows, a structure older than many cities in the United States.
The bronze lettering above the steps gleamed.
I parked the Gullwing in a quiet corner of the lot.
Before I could reach her door, she’d already hopped out, cardigan flapping at her sides as she walked purposefully toward the entrance.
She looked around as she went, taking in the green stretch of Schenley Plaza, the kids running across the grass, the food carts waiting for the dinner rush. Her eager, determined expression made my heart beat a little faster.
I had no trouble keeping up with her, but I let her lead. Watching her was strangely grounding.
The lobby was too quiet for a building so large. Busts of industrialists lined the walls. A student slept on a couch with a chemistry book open on his chest while a librarian stamped returns with the dull acceptance of someone who had long surrendered to monotony.
Artemis walked purposefully through the space, heading straight toward the archival wing as if she knew the entire building’s layout. I stayed close behind her.
The man we were looking for was moving a cart in the stacks of the rare books room. His name tag read Percy. No last name. Strange. He was sorting materials with no interest in proper weight distribution. If he shifted the cart wrong, everything would topple.
Artemis lifted a hand. “Excuse me, are you—?”
Percy looked up. Saw us.
Froze.
Then he turned very slowly and began speed walking away.
Speed walking. It was such a weak attempt that for a moment I wondered if this was a joke or performance art.
But he continued at that same unimpressive pace, gaining almost no distance as he went.
Artemis turned to me, looking very confused. “Is he trying to flee?”
“I believe so,” I said.
She jogged to follow. I walked. There was no need for expediency. Although Percy’s urgency was evident, even a toddler could have caught him.
Percy weaved between shelves, still clutching the books. He stepped behind a rolling ladder at one point and peeked around it as if he imagined himself invisible.
“Sir, we’re not here to hurt you,” Artemis called.
He pushed a book cart into our path. It moved two inches with the determination of a slug.
“This is the lowest-stake’s chase I have ever seen,” Artemis muttered.
“It does feel unnecessary,” I agreed.
We cornered him, dare I say effortlessly, near the microfiche machines. He clutched the books to his chest like a shield.
Artemis held her hands up in a calming gesture. “We just want to talk.”
Percy frowned. “Your cover identities are terrible.”
“Our what?” I asked, taking a step forward.
“Art and Artie,” he said. “Come on. You two need to try harder.”
“That is not—” Artemis sputtered. “That is not my actual name, it’s Artemis. Wait. How do you know our names?”
Percy’s gaze flicked from her to me. “It doesn’t matter how I know.”
I decided I should speak. “I’m Arthur.”
He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“It’s the truth,” Artemis insisted.
“Sure. Whatever. It hardly matters.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. I shouldn’t be seen speaking with you.” He reached into his shirt pocket and handed Artemis a small, white card. “Meet me at this address in two hours. Don’t follow me now.”
I looked at the card. All it had on it was an address in the Strip District. No name or indication of what the place was.
“Why should we trust you?” I asked.
“You shouldn’t,” Percy said matter-of-factly. “But you want answers. And this building isn’t secure.”
Before we could question him, he slipped sideways between two shelves with surprising speed and vanished into an employee-only corridor.
Artemis blew out a long breath. “That was weird, right?”
I studied the card. My instincts told me he was afraid of something real, not imagined.
“We should go,” I said.
She nodded. We walked back through the foyer, dusk light spilling across the marble floors and gilded trim. Outside, the evening breeze carried the scents of food stands along Forbes Avenue.
How had Percy known our names? Had Artemis submitted a request? How did he know we wanted answers? What kind of answers was he going to provide? Either way, we were meeting with him in two hours. We’d come this far, and I’d been searching for so long. I could wait a little longer.
Halfway across the parking lot, Artemis slowed. She looked down at the card, then at the ground.
“I never much cared for being called Artie,” she murmured, her voice small and uncertain.
“I won’t call you that, then,” I said.
She glanced up, warmth blazing in her eyes. “Thank you.”
We continued toward the car.
The Carnegie building fell away behind us in heavy stone and shadow.
Its wide steps and heavy bronze door told me it was a place that believed knowledge should weigh something.
I understood that instinct, and I found myself slowing without meaning to, taking in the details of the unfamiliar territory.
Beside us, Schenley Plaza bustled. People laughed somewhere near the food vendors.
The smell of frying oil and sugar drifted from the carts.
Music played from somewhere. Younger people crossed the plaza in loose groups, bags slung carelessly over the shoulders, all talking at once.
No hierarchy I could see. No obvious leader.
The disorder should have bothered me, but it felt strangely functional. I resented how easily it worked.
The Cathedral of Learning towered in the distance like an old sentinel.
I risked another glance at Artemis, and that pull inside me became heavier, more persistent.
Something ancient was waking up inside my bones.
And that scared me more than anything waiting at the address on that card.