Page 18 of Hot for the Dragon (Saltwater Grove #3)

18

DAPHNE

D aphne watched as Archer signed the last of the paperwork with an impatient flourish. The fluorescent lights of the police station cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, but even they couldn't diminish his commanding presence. A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered how he'd initially bristled at the idea of working with law enforcement.

"Something amusing?" Archer's deep voice cut through her thoughts, one eyebrow raised as he caught her staring at him.

"Just thinking about how you used to growl every time we mentioned bringing the police in." The autumn sunlight streaming through the station windows painted golden streaks across his auburn hair. "Now look at you, filling out forms like a model citizen."

"I still say we could handle this ourselves." He crossed his arms, the movement drawing her attention to the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. "But your way has... merit."

The grudging admission made her heart flutter. These past three weeks had transformed their relationship from reluctant partners to something that felt remarkably like friendship. Gone was the rigid formality, replaced by comfortable banter and shared looks that sometimes lasted a beat too long.

"Did the great Archer Hawke just admit I was right about something?" Daphne pressed her hand to her chest. "Should we alert the media?"

His coal-black eyes narrowed, but she caught the slight upturn of his lips. "Don't push your luck, witch."

The nickname sent a warm shiver down her spine that she desperately tried to ignore. Friends. They were just friends. Nothing more. Even if sometimes, when he looked at her like that, with that intensity that seemed to burn right through her...

"Earth to Daphne." Archer's voice snapped her back to reality. "The paperwork's done. Unless you'd like to spend the rest of the day admiring the station's lovely decor?"

"Right, sorry." She gathered her things, hoping he hadn't noticed her momentary distraction. "Just lost in thought."

"Dangerous habit." He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit. The casual touch shouldn't have affected her so much, but her skin tingled even through her sweater.

Daphne's stomach rumbled as they stepped out into the crisp early evening air. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose that reminded her of Archer's hair.

"Hungry?" Archer's lips quirked up at the sound. "I know a place around the corner. My treat."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to." His tone brooked no argument, making her heart skip. "Unless you'd prefer to debate about it while we both starve?"

The restaurant turned out to be a cozy Italian place, all exposed brick and warm lighting. The hostess seated them at a corner booth, and Daphne sank into the plush cushions with a contented sigh.

"This is nice," she said, breathing in the aroma of garlic and fresh bread. "I didn't even know this place existed."

"Best lasagna in town." Archer's commanding presence seemed to fill the space between them. "And they don't water down their wine."

As they looked over their menus, Daphne noticed movement from across the room. A man at another table was staring at Archer with undisguised hostility. The look in his eyes made her skin prickle with unease.

"Archer," she whispered, leaning forward. "That man over there - could he be working for Carmen?"

Archer didn't even turn around. "Dark hair, expensive suit, looks like he's sucking on a lemon?"

"That's the one."

"Not Carmen's." His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Just someone from my past who thinks they know me."

The waiter arrived before she could respond, and Archer ordered for them both with the easy confidence that seemed to come naturally to him. Daphne found herself watching the way his hands moved as he spoke, strong and sure.

"So," she said, determined to lighten the mood, "are you going to tell me what makes this lasagna the best in town, or do I have to guess?"

His dark eyes warmed as he launched into an unexpectedly passionate defense of proper pasta layering, and Daphne felt herself relax.

As they ate dinner, the wine had loosened something in Daphne, making her brave enough to venture into territory she'd avoided until now. The candlelight caught the planes of Archer's face as he finished his lasagna, and she found herself leaning forward.

"Can I ask you something?" Her fingers traced the rim of her wine glass. "About your past?"

Archer's shoulders tensed, his jaw tightening. For a moment, she thought he'd shut down completely. Then he took a long drink of his wine.

"What do you want to know?"

"Why did you really leave your wing?"

His eyes locked onto hers, searching. The silence filled the space between them until Daphne thought she'd made a terrible mistake. Then he spoke, his voice low and controlled.

"I was second in command of the Black Claw wing. We were... brutal. Effective." He tapped his finger against the table. "I was one of their best fighters, helped keep the other wings in line through force."

Daphne's heart quickened as he continued, his words precise and measured.

"We had a... contentious relationship with Saltwater Grove. My wing leader enjoyed antagonizing the town, showing our superiority." His lip curled. "But that wasn't what ended it. He crossed a line I couldn't ignore - nothing to do with the town. We fought. Violently."

The candlelight caught a faint scar along his jaw that Daphne had never noticed before.

"So I did the one thing that would hurt him most." A dark smile played across Archer's lips. "I went to the Council with proof of everything illegal the wing had been doing. Things they'd suspected but could never prove. In exchange for my testimony, I got immunity, took my share of the wing's wealth, and bought my mansion."

He drained his wine glass. "And that's why half the town thinks I'm a traitor, and the other half thinks I'm a monster."

The weight of his confession hung in the air between them. Daphne sat perfectly still, processing everything he'd revealed, understanding for the first time why he kept himself so isolated.

Daphne started twisting her napkin in her lap, gathering courage before meeting Archer's intense gaze.

"Do you regret it?" she asked softly. "Turning them in?"

Archer's finger tapped against the table once, twice, before he answered. "No. I regret being part of it in the first place. Regret that my reasons for leaving weren't more... noble." His lips quirked into a self-deprecating smile. "I didn't do it to save the town or right any wrongs. I did it because I was angry."

The admission touched something deep inside Daphne. Here was the feared dragon shifter, the one who made townspeople cross the street when they saw him coming, sharing his vulnerabilities with her. Her heart swelled with the trust he was placing in her.

"But you're making up for it now," she said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she felt him tense briefly before relaxing. "You're helping protect the town from Carmen. That counts for something."

"Does it?" His voice was gruff, but he hadn't pulled his hand away. "Or am I just finding another excuse to fight?"

"You could have said no when the Council asked for help." Daphne smiled, remembering their first meeting. "In fact, you did say no, until someone convinced you otherwise."

"Someone rather persistent," he agreed, his eyes softening as they met hers. "With an annoying habit of seeing the best in people."

"Not annoying," she protested, laughing. "Optimistic. There's a difference."

"If you say so." He turned his hand over beneath hers. His thumb brushed across her knuckles, making her pulse quicken. "Though I'm starting to think you might be right about a few things."

The waiter approached with fresh bread, and Daphne reluctantly withdrew her hand, her skin tingling where he'd touched her. She watched as Archer's commanding presence returned, ordering more wine with the casual authority that seemed so natural to him.

Daphne soon dabbed her napkin at the corner of her mouth, savoring the last bite of tiramisu. The evening had flown by, each moment with Archer making her forget about Carmen and the looming threat to their town. Her phone buzzed - another text from Hugo reminding her about their meeting.

"I should get going," she said reluctantly. "Hugo's expecting me."

Archer's eyes fixed on her with that intensity that gave her butterflies in her stomach. "I'll walk you."

"No need." She smiled, touched by his protectiveness. "Hugo's place isn't far, and you've already treated me to dinner."

"It's not safe to walk alone." His jaw set in that stubborn way she was becoming familiar with.

"I'm a witch, remember?" She wiggled her fingers, making a small vine sprout from the centerpiece. "I can handle myself."

He looked unconvinced. "Daphne-"

"Really, I'm fine." She stood before he could argue further. "Thank you for dinner. And... for trusting me earlier."

Something softened in his expression. "Be careful."

The cobblestone streets were quiet as Daphne walked toward Hugo's house, her boots clicking against the stones. The air held that particular autumn crispness that made everything feel sharper, more alive. She hummed to herself, still warm from the wine and Archer's company.

A twig snapped behind her.

Daphne spun around, her magic tingling at her fingertips. The street looked empty, but the shadows between buildings seemed deeper than before. She quickened her pace, all too aware of how the streetlights created pools of light with dark spaces between them.

Her heart hammered as she reached for her phone. Maybe Archer had been right about walking alone. But calling him now would mean admitting he was right, and besides, she was almost to Hugo's-

She didn't dare look back, but she could feel it - someone or something watching her every move.