Page 6 of Hot for the Dragon (Saltwater Grove #3)

6

ARCHER

T he bell chimed as Archer held the door open, following Daphne out into the afternoon sun. His keys jangled as he pulled them from his pocket, the remote chirping as he unlocked his black Corvette parked down the street.

"That's your car?" Daphne's eyebrows lifted as she looked at the sleek vehicle.

"What were you expecting? A minivan?"

"I don't know. Maybe something less... flashy?"

"Get in." He opened the passenger door, fighting back a smirk at her surprised expression. The leather seats creaked as they settled in, and the engine roared to life.

As he navigated through the winding streets, Archer's mind drifted back to the café. He hadn't needed her defense - he'd learned long ago to tune out the whispers and stares - but something about the way she'd stood up for him, a complete stranger, nagged at him.

"Why did you do that back there?" The words slipped out by accident.

"Do what?"

"Defend me. You don't know me."

Daphne shrugged, watching the scenery blur past. "Because it wasn't right. People shouldn't judge others based on rumors."

The coast soon came into view, the waves crashing against the cliffs ahead. Archer pulled off onto a hidden path and concealed the Corvette behind a natural rock formation.

"I'll have to shift here," he said, stepping out. "The entrance is up there." He pointed to a barely visible opening halfway up the cliff face.

"Shift? You mean..." Daphne's voice trailed off.

"Unless you've grown wings in the last five minutes, you'll need to ride on my back."

Her eyes widened. "Is that safe?"

"Safer than trying to climb these cliffs." He shrugged off his leather jacket, laying it across the car's hood. "Though if you're having second thoughts..."

"No." Daphne squared her shoulders. "I can do this."

"Then step back."

The transformation rippled through him, muscles expanding, bones elongating. His skin hardened into crimson scales that caught the sunlight like polished rubies. When it was done, he lowered his head to her level, watching as she took in his dragon form with a mix of awe and apprehension. He nudged his head, signaling her to get on, and she reluctantly climbed up onto his head and onto his back.

Daphne's hands gripped his scales tightly as they soared upward, her weight barely noticeable on his back. The wind whipped past them and carried the tang of salt from the ocean below. He angled his wings, catching an updraft that carried them higher along the cliff face.

As they landed in the hidden clearing, six dragon shifters emerged from the shadows. Their scales glinted in various hues - emerald, bronze, and amber. Archer kept his body between them and Daphne, spreading his wings in the ancient gesture of parley.

A dark blur streaked across the sky, and Carmen's massive blue form descended into the clearing. Her landing scattered loose rocks and dirt. She shifted smoothly, her human form emerging with a predatory grace that hadn't changed since he'd known her.

"Well, well. The great Archer Hawke." Carmen's lips curved into a sharp smile. "Have you finally come to pledge your loyalty?"

Archer shifted, his clothes settling perfectly into place - a trick that had taken years to master. He caught Daphne steadying herself out of the corner of his eye.

"Carmen." He drawled the name, injecting just enough derision to make her jaw clench. "The day I pledge loyalty to you is the day hell freezes over, and demons start ice skating."

"Still the same arrogant bastard."

"And you're still picking fights you can't win," he replied, studying her with deliberate casualness. "A rebellion against the Council? Really? You always did have more ambition than sense."

The other dragons tensed, but Archer didn't spare them a glance. They weren't the threat here.

"You know how this ends," he continued. "Blood in the streets. Dragons falling from the sky. For what? To prove you're the strongest?"

Carmen's eyes narrowed, a muscle ticking in her jaw. The air crackled with tension, and Archer could smell ozone - a sure sign Carmen was fighting the urge to shift.

Carmen's lip then curled into a sneer. "The strong survive, the weak perish. That's nature's law." She paced the clearing like a predator sizing up prey. "And the strongest should rule - which is me."

Archer rolled his eyes. "And what happens when someone stronger comes along? There's always someone stronger."

"No one is stronger than me." Her words carried the weight of absolute conviction.

"Your army's what - a dozen dragons? Against an entire town of supernatural beings?" He crossed his arms, letting his disdain show. "Even if you win, you'll lose half your forces. Then what? You'll be too weak to hold what you've taken."

"I have contingencies."

"Like what? More wings you've bullied into submission?"

Carmen's smile turned razor-sharp. "You'll see."

The ominous reply made his scales itch beneath his skin. Something wasn't adding up here.

"Why do you even care, Archer?" Carmen's voice dripped with mockery. "You've never given a damn about anyone but yourself."

Daphne's words suddenly echoed in his mind. "Because innocent people got hurt this time." He couldn't believe he was actually saying this out loud. "They lost their homes, their businesses-"

Carmen's laughter cut through the air. "Since when does Archer Hawke care about collateral damage?"

"He has a point."

Archer's heart stopped as Daphne stepped forward. Damn it, what was she doing? The other dragons' heads snapped toward her, nostrils flaring as they caught her non-dragon scent.

"And I've been watching your followers," Daphne continued, her voice steady despite the predatory gazes fixed on her. "They don't seem as convinced of your cause as you think."

Archer fought the urge to grab her and drag her back. The other dragons would see her as prey, a mere witch presuming to speak to their better.

Carmen's voice turned to ice. "They don't need to be convinced. I'm the strongest. They follow me because they have to."

Archer watched with a mix of exasperation and grudging admiration as Daphne stepped forward further, her chin lifted in defiance. The gathered dragons towered over her small frame, yet she showed no fear.

"Strength isn't just about who can hit the hardest," Daphne's voice rang clear across the clearing. "It's about standing up for what's right, even when it's difficult."

Archer suppressed a groan. Great. She was going to get them both killed with this inspirational speech nonsense. Dragons didn't do moral philosophy - they respected power, plain and simple. Yet he couldn't help noticing how some of the younger dragons shifted uncomfortably.

"You all know this is wrong," Daphne continued, her green eyes sweeping across the gathered dragons. "Destroying homes, burning businesses, terrorizing innocent people - that's not strength. That's bullying."

A bronze-scaled dragon lowered his head slightly, and Archer caught the flash of shame in his eyes. Interesting. Maybe the little witch wasn't completely off base.

"You don't have to follow this path," Daphne's voice softened. "You can walk away. Choose to be better than this."

The emerald dragon to Carmen's left actually took a step back, his wings folding closer to his body. Archer's eyebrows shot up. Well, damn. The flower shop owner had more steel in her spine than he'd given her credit for.

But Archer knew better than to hope. Dragon culture was built on displays of dominance - centuries of instinct wouldn't be overcome by one impassioned speech, no matter how genuine. He moved closer to Daphne, ready to grab her and shift if things went south.

The gathered dragons looked between Carmen and Daphne, their massive forms betraying their uncertainty through subtle shifts and twitches.

But Archer knew it wouldn't matter. Not while Carmen stood there, her power radiating off her in waves that made the air thick with tension. These dragons might doubt, might even agree with Daphne, but they wouldn't dare show it.

Carmen's laughter suddenly echoed across the clearing, sharp and mocking. "A witch lecturing dragons about morality? That's rich." She stalked toward Daphne, teeth bared in a predatory smile. "Tell me, little flower girl, how many wings have you conquered? How many battles have you won?"

Something hot and dangerous coiled in Archer's chest as Carmen circled Daphne like a shark scenting blood.

"Your pretty words mean nothing," Carmen sneered. "These dragons follow strength, not speeches. And you? You're nothing but a weak-"

"Back off." Archer's voice cut through the air. He stepped between them, his shoulders tight with barely contained rage. The urge to shift, to tear into Carmen with fang and claw, burned through his veins. "You want to talk about strength? I seem to remember kicking your ass in three different wing competitions."

Carmen's eyes narrowed to slits. "Ancient history. Care to test that theory now?"

"Name the time and place." His lips pulled back in a feral grin. "I'll be happy to remind you why they used to call me the Crimson Terror."

"Right here. Right now." Carmen's fingers flexed, scales rippling beneath her skin. "Unless you're too rusty to back up that mouth of yours?"

Archer tensed, ready to accept the challenge, when a small hand touched his arm. He glanced down to find Daphne's green eyes pleading with him. The contact sent an unexpected jolt through his system, clearing some of the battle-rage from his mind.

Damn it. She was right. He was out of practice, and Carmen had been fighting constantly. If he lost, there'd be no one left to protect Saltwater Grove.

"Another time," he growled, backing away while keeping himself between Carmen and Daphne.

He shifted forms, lowering his head for Daphne to climb on. As they took to the sky, Carmen's taunts faded into the wind.

During the flight back, Archer couldn't shake the memory of Carmen threatening Daphne. The protective fury it had sparked surprised him. He'd gone a long time without caring about anyone but himself - why start now? And over a witch who grew flowers, of all people?