Page 29

I force myself to remain still, though every instinct screams to maintain distance.

“Now,” he continues, his voice a murmur, “he’ll offer to buy you a drink. Accept with gratitude, but not eagerness. You want him interested, not suspicious.”

“I know how to accept a drink,” I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

“Do you?” His eyebrow arches. “Show me.”

I clear my throat, softening my expression. “That would be lovely,” I say, my voice deliberately lower, smoother than my natural tone. I allow a small smile to touch my lips, then glance down at my hands before meeting his eyes again.

“Not terrible,” Dayn concedes, “but your shoulders remain tense. Remember, a less confident woman might be nervous around an attractive man with Mazrov’s authority. You find him intriguing, if a bit intimidating.”

“Should I twirl my hair around my finger too?”

“Sarcasm is unbecoming in a seductress,” Dayn says dryly. “But a little genuine laughter would help. Your eyes light up when you laugh—it’s quite transformative.”

“I wasn’t aware dragons were such keen observers of human beauty,” I say, deflecting from the unexpected compliment.

“We’re keen observers of everything.” He leans slightly closer. “When he moves into your space like this, don’t retreat. Instead, lean forward slightly—it suggests interest and creates intimacy.”

I follow his instruction, bringing our faces uncomfortably close. The amber of his eyes seems to darken, flecks of gold appearing at the edges.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Now touch his arm briefly—casual contact establishes a physical connection that can be built upon.”

I hesitate, then lightly place my fingers on his forearm.

The heat of him burns through the fabric of his shirt, and for an instant, I feel that strange connection flicker between us again—much fainter than before, but unmistakable.

I’d thought it was a temporary reaction triggered by our proximity to the raw power of the convergence waters, but it seems there is still some intermittent after-effect.

I try to shake it aside. I need to focus.

Dayn’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “You’re learning,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “But seduction is more than just physical proximity.” His eyes hold mine with unsettling intensity. “The tavern has private guest rooms.”

“And?” I withdraw my hand, suddenly needing distance.

“The guest rooms are reserved for travelers and the occasional Heathborne visitor,” Dayn explains, his eyes never leaving mine. “All conveniently located on the ground floor, with large windows facing the back garden.”

I catch his meaning immediately. “Easy extraction points.”

“Precisely. You need to convince Mazrov to book one of those rooms for the night.”

I blink, the implications washing over me. “You expect me to?—”

“No,” Dayn interrupts. “But you need to make him believe that’s where the evening is headed.” His eyes darken, the gold flecks becoming more pronounced. “Once he’s in that room, vulnerable and distracted, we’ll have our opportunity.”

My throat feels suddenly dry. “I’ve never had to?—”

“Never had to seduce a man into a private room?” He raises an eyebrow. “I find that difficult to believe, given your training.”

I lift my chin. “My missions typically involve more direct approaches.”

“Ah.” Understanding crosses his features. “Then do you want more specific instruction?”

I consider it for a moment, then nod. I’ve come this far in his “class,” I might as well see what other gems of wisdom he has to offer.

He steps closer. “When the conversation has established sufficient connection, you’ll need to create desire—urgent enough that he’ll suggest privacy.”

“And how exactly do I do that?”

Instead of answering verbally, Dayn reaches out, his fingers brushing my bare shoulder.

His touch leaves a trail of heat that has nothing to do with his dragon nature. “Once you have him alone,” Dayn continues, “you’ll need to keep him... occupied until we can make our move.”

I hesitate. “How far exactly am I expected to go with this charade?”

“Far enough to keep him distracted,” Dayn says, his fingers trailing down my arm with deliberate slowness. “But not so far that you lose control of the situation.”

His demonstration is becoming uncomfortably effective. I step back, needing distance. “I understand the concept.”

“Do you?” He follows, closing the space between us again. “The key is to make him believe he’s the one in control while never relinquishing your own. A delicate balance.”

“I can handle delicate balances,” I say, more confidently than I feel .

“Show me,” Dayn challenges, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Convince me to follow you to a private room.”

I hesitate, then decide to accept the challenge. If I can’t convince Dayn in practice, I doubt I’ll manage with Mazrov.

I let my shoulders relax and take a step toward him, deliberately softening my gaze. I tilt my head slightly, exposing my neck as he taught me, and allow my lips to part.

“You know,” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper that forces him to lean closer, “it’s getting rather... crowded in here.” I let my eyes drift to his mouth before meeting his gaze again. “I’ve heard the rooms here are quite... private.”

Something flickers across Dayn’s face—surprise, perhaps, at how quickly I’ve adapted to his instruction. Or maybe it’s something else. The gold in his eyes intensifies.

“Have you?” he responds, playing along. “And why would we need privacy?”

I step closer, eliminating the space between us. My fingers trace a path up his arm. “Some conversations are better had behind closed doors,” I murmur. “Don’t you think?”

His hand catches mine, stopping its upward trajectory. For a moment, I think I’ve overplayed my hand, but then his thumb brushes across my wrist in a slow circle.

“What kind of conversation did you have in mind?” His voice has dropped even lower, rumbling in his chest.

I lean in until my lips are nearly touching his ear. “The kind that doesn’t require many words.”

When I pull back, Dayn’s eyes have darkened considerably, the gold now a molten ring around his pupils. The air between us feels charged, electric.

Then his academic demeanor returns and he pulls away. “ Convincing,” he says, though his voice is more rugged than before. “I think you’re ready, Salem.”

“I agree,” I mutter. Enough practice.