Page 12 of Born in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #2)

Chapter 12

D orian

I release her hand reluctantly, then stretch out on my back. “We should probably get up.” I turn my head to look at her. She has the longest lashes I’ve ever seen.

God, she’s beautiful.

“I know.” She wrinkles her nose. “I gotta get to the Bean.”

“Would a back scrub be enough incentive?” I wink at her.

“A back scrub might stop me from getting to work at all.” She giggles, then clambers out of bed.

I watch appreciatively as she makes her way across the room, the morning light streaking the line of her back and the softly rounded globes of her ass.

“You coming?” She looks over her shoulder at me before disappearing into the small adjoining bathroom.

Oh, hell yeah!

Minutes later, steam billows around us as warm water cascades down Juno’s back. Her eyes close as I work shampoo through her silky curls, my fingers massaging her scalp.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” she murmurs, leaning into my touch.

“Surprising because?”

“I don’t know. You strike me as the type who has people wash your hair for you.”

I laugh. “At fancy salons where they charge three hundred dollars for a haircut?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I like it. You have incredible hair.” I feel the texture between my fingers like wet silk.

She scoffs lightly. “Hardly. It’s just… sandy.”

“Bullshit. I love it.”

Water sluices over her shoulders as I rinse the suds away.

“Turn around,” I say, reaching for her lavender body wash.

She complies, eyes still closed, completely vulnerable. I work the soap across her shoulders, down her arms, careful to keep my touch gentle. Professional, almost. This isn’t about getting her back in bed. It’s about showing her she’s safe with me.

“I could get used to this,” she whispers.

Something cracks open in my chest. “Yeah. Me too.”

Her eyes open, and she gazes up at me silently, something passing between us that I don’t quite understand.

She blinks, and the moment is gone, but I can’t help but feel that something important has shifted.

“Okay, I think I’m clean enough. How about I wash you?” she asks archly.

I glance down at where my cock twitches at the thought of it.

“Probably not a good idea if you’re planning to get to work this week.”

“This week? ” She grins impishly, trailing a fingertip down my chest to my abdomen, stopping an inch below my navel. “You’re probably right,” she says just as a low growl builds in the base of my throat. The growl turns into a groan as she turns away and reaches for a towel, wrapping it around her sweet curves.

We dry off and get dressed, me in yesterday’s clothes and her in dark pants and a blue shirt. I watch as she buttons it up over the swell of her breasts, enjoying the way the fabric pulls over the lush mounds.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” I stroke a fingertip along her cheekbone. Her hair is still damp, and a water drop trickles onto her neck.

“I think that’s an exaggeration.” She rolls her eyes at me. “But I’ll take it.”

“I’m serious,” I tell her, and as I say it, I know that I really am. I want to etch her features into my brain and call them up when I’m having a bad day.

“And I’m hungry,” she says, lifting onto her toes to dot a kiss on my lips before heading to the kitchenette. I follow her like an oversized puppy, committing her graceful movements to memory.

She opens a cabinet and takes out mugs while I start making us coffee. I stop abruptly as something small hurtles past me and lands on the counter as I duck from it. I turn and frown at her.

“Did you just throw a biscotti at me?” I wave it at her.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Juno laughs, taking the French press from my hands. “You’re going to break it.”

“It’s coffee. How complicated can it be?”

She rolls her eyes. “Says the man who probably has an assistant fetch his coffee.”

“For your information, I make excellent coffee.” I lean against her counter, watching her precise movements. She’s humming as she works: “Crazy” by Patsy Cline. Seems appropriate. “I just don’t use contraptions that require an engineering degree.”

“An engineering degree? It’s a freaking plunger, rich boy.” She pours the steaming liquid into the mismatched mugs. “How do you make your coffee, then?”

“I have one of those coffee pod things. I press a button, and voila .” I shrug.

“Very evolved.” She grins and then hands me a mug.

“You should get one,” I say. “Or one of those percolator things.”

“Nah,” she says. “It probably sounds nuts, but I don’t like stale coffee filters. The way the grounds stain the white paper. It’s just… ick.”

“You’re weird, you know that?” I grin at her. “Who doesn’t like coffee filters?”

“Not filters specifically. More like the texture of the paper. And the color. Like white sheets creep me out, too.”

“You don’t like white sheets?” It occurs to me that hers are blue.

“Nope. They make me think of hospitals.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but somehow, I think it is.

“Okay.” I nod, not pushing the subject. “We all have quirks, I guess.”

“Yes, we do,” she says lightly. “Toast?”

“If you trust me with your toaster.” I’m almost grateful for the change in subject; I want to know more about her, but I don’t want to ruin the mood.

Her smile crinkles the corners of her eyes. “I think I can take that risk.”

We eat standing in her kitchen—toast with butter and honey, coffee that’s admittedly better than what I make. Morning sunlight catches the golden highlights in her hair. She looks softer here than anywhere else I’ve seen her.

“You’re staring,” she says, not looking up from her mug.

“Can’t help it.”

A blush creeps up her neck. “You should probably get fresh clothes before work. Unless you want the entire office knowing you spent the night.”

“Let them talk.” I set down my empty mug. “Though Caleb might have an aneurysm.”

I should care more about walking into Craven Tower in yesterday’s clothes. About the gossip, the knowing looks. I don’t.

At her door, I kiss her goodbye, tasting honey and coffee.

“See you later?” I ask, suddenly uncertain.

She nods, tucking hair behind her ear. “I’d like that.”

Walking toward the stairwell, I can’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. The morning air feels different. Cleaner. Something’s shifted inside me, like tectonic plates rearranging themselves. I don’t know what this is yet, but I like it. A lot.

And then something changes.

As I step outside her building, a sensation prickles at the back of my neck. A sixth sense honed over centuries of survival.

Someone’s watching.

I pause, pretending to check my phone while I scan the street. Nothing obvious at first—just the usual morning commuters hurrying past, a delivery truck unloading across the way, a silver sedan parked under a maple tree.

The sedan. A man sits behind the wheel, face partially obscured, but I can feel his attention like a living thing, coiling and dangerous. He’s staring directly at Juno’s building.

The ex.

Has to be. The flowers, Juno’s panic attack, her fear when she checks the locks… it all fits.

Motherfucker!

My dragon stirs beneath my skin, heat rippling along my spine. I could confront him. Drag him from that car and make him understand exactly what happens to men who terrorize the woman I—

The woman I what?

I shake off the thought. Whatever Juno is to me, she doesn’t need me causing a scene outside her apartment.

Instead, I walk casually back into the building, pulling out my phone and sending Caleb a message that I’ll be late for our meeting. Whatever clan crisis we’re facing, it can wait an hour.

Back upstairs, I knock softly on Juno’s door. She answers quickly, surprise flashing across her face.

“Dorian? I thought you left.”

“Change of plans.” I smile, keeping my tone light. “Thought I’d take you to work.”

She tilts her head, curiosity in her eyes. “That’s… sweet. But unnecessary. I’m happy to take the bus.”

“Indulge me.” I shrug.

“Okay.” She smiles, a hint of color touching her cheeks. “Let me grab my purse.”

As we leave the building, I position myself between her and the silver sedan, maintaining a casual conversation about her plans for the day. Over her shoulder, I watch the car. The man inside straightens, his attention laser-focused on Juno.

My hand finds the small of her back, guiding her to my car. Once we’re in, I check behind us discreetly—no sign of the sedan. Either he’s left, or he’s taking a different route to follow.

“Everything okay?” Juno asks, noticing my distraction.

“Perfect.” I squeeze her hand. “Just family stuff on my mind.”

We reach the Grind the next, you’re telling me to get a life.”

“Can’t you do both?”

He scoffs. “You really have no idea, do you?”

His phone buzzes on the table. I watch his expression darken as he reads the message, then types a quick response. Something’s wrong—more wrong than before.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up straighter.

“Security feedback. No signs of an intrusion on any of the systems. Malakai was in before midnight, but aside from that, nothing.”

I blink, surprise momentarily overriding my irritation. “I don’t get it. Do you think there’s a bug in the system?”

“If there was, it was only for her. Those checkpoints are serviced weekly. And I had no trouble getting in. Neither did Malakai. Both of us show up on the access feeds.”

This doesn’t make sense. Our security system is impenetrable—biometrics, retinal scans, voice recognition. How could Elena slip past all of that?

Caleb stands abruptly, prowling across the room and staring into space. I watch him, recognizing the tension in his shoulders, the slight tremor in his hands. Something’s shifted in him since yesterday. The Elena woman has gotten under his skin in a way I haven’t seen before.

Suddenly, he turns, grabbing his coat. “I need to go.”

I’m on my feet immediately. “Where?”

“To see Elena,” he says, voice tight. “And then to put an end to this.”

My instincts flare. “What exactly does that mean, Caleb?”

He pauses at the door. “It means I need answers. Real ones, not half-truths and riddles. Malakai knows something about her—something he was willing to betray the clan to protect.”

“And you think she’ll just tell you? After you rescued her from a psychotic seven-hundred-year-old dragon? She’s probably halfway to Canada by now.”

A strange expression flickers across his face—something almost… possessive. “She’s not running.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am.” He opens the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“Caleb—” I start, but he’s already gone, the door closing behind him with finality.

I stand in the center of his pristine penthouse, frustration churning in my gut. Once again, I’m left holding pieces of a puzzle while Caleb races off to play hero. The responsible one, the leader, the decision-maker.

The eldest son by five fucking minutes.

Who is acting really fucking strangely. Over a woman.

Something’s going on. But right now, there’s nothing I can do about it.

I pull out my phone, checking the time. In a few hours, Juno’s shift will be ending. The thought of her walking home alone, with that silver sedan potentially lurking, doesn’t sit well with me.

Whatever game Caleb’s playing with Elena, whatever mess Malakai’s dragged us into—it can wait. Right now, Juno needs protection, whether she knows it or not.

And for once in my very long life, I’m choosing to focus on what’s right in front of me instead of chasing after Caleb’s shadow.

I head for the door, already mapping the quickest route to her home.

It might not be dragons and ancient artifacts, but protecting Juno from her stalker matters. It matters to me.

And that’s a realization I’m not quite ready to examine too closely.