Page 19

“Care to elaborate?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know how much I should say, and it’s not really my story to tell, but there’s… baggage there. A lot of loss and grief.”

I don’t press her for more details, but even that little bit of information feels likesomething. Some small part of the tangled, infuriating puzzle that is Ewan Blair.

“It doesn’t give him a pass, though,” Nora continues. “Even with what he’s been through, he knows better than to act the way he did tonight.”

“Agreed.”

“These shifters,” Nora says, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Centuries old, and they still act like fools sometimes.”

The corners of my mouth quirk up in an unlikely smile. “Maybe, but at least yours comes with some fun accessories.”

Nora snorts. “Again, Kenna, you’re never going to make me spill on my sex life with Elias.”

“Alright,” I concede. “But you’re still a lucky, lucky woman to have found him.”

Ever since Nora and Elias got together, and ever since they dealt with all the shit with her ex, Nora has been different. Lighter, more confident, at peace. I liked her immediately when she moved to Seattle and started working at the same bookstore I had been, and seeing how much she’s come into her own this last year has been wonderful.

“I know,” she says, and the soft affection in her voice makes my chest ache again.

We’re mostly quiet for the rest of the drive, and when we pull up outside the old Victorian home I rent a room in, Nora looks over at me.

“Is there anything else you’d like me to do?” she asks. “Talk to Blair maybe, find out if he—”

“No,” I cut her off, mortification rising in my throat at the idea. “No. It’s fine. I can deal with the dragon.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but must decide to let it go for now as she gives me a small smile.

“Call me, okay? If there’s anything Elias or I can do for you.”

I nod, thank her again for the ride, and head inside.

The Victorian is the first place that’s really felt like home since I left Idaho. Painted a vibrant turquoise, with bright white accents and plenty of intricate wooden scrollwork and trim that make it look like a dollhouse, the outside is almost as whimsical as the tenants who make their home inside.

My friend Fran inherited it from her late aunt, and has filled it up with misfit humans and monsters looking for a place in the city. As I step inside, she calls out to me from where she’s sitting with her partner, Bruno, in the living room just off the entry.

“How was the date?”

A lump settles at the base of my throat, but I swallow around it. “It was, uh, fine, I guess. Uneventful.”

“Bummer,” she says. “Hope the next one’s more exciting. Wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head. “Nah. I’m pretty tired. Think I’ll head up to bed.”

“Alright. Good night.”

Thankfully, I don’t run into any of my other roommates as I head upstairs, and when I close my bedroom door behind me, all the rest of the wind goes out of my sails. I slump against the door for a few long moments, breathing deep and pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes to try to keep a sudden wave of tears at bay.

Fuck. Just… fuck.

I don’t want to cry over Blair. Damn dragon. I didn’t ask for this, and all I wanted was the chance to talk to him, understand him a little, and he couldn’t even give me that. Kidnapping me was insane, yes, but he at least owed me an explanation.

Heowesme an explanation, and I mean to have it.

All of this is insane. From that very first day at the Bureau, there’s been something between us. Something beyond simple attraction or interest. Something that made him irrational enough to pluck me off the sidewalk, and makesmeirrational enough not to hate him for it entirely and still want to get to the bottom of this.

Letting out a sigh and stripping off my jacket and my shoes, running a hand through my wind-tangled hair, I start mentally formulating my plan for Monday.