Page 26 of The Dragon King’s Claw (The Dragons of Serai #17)

I collected the evidence, reports, and notes on the Kun-lo case from the Hall of Talons and took it home. I knew I wouldn't be able to think in the Hall with all my fellows watching me, wondering where the King was. At least at home, it was only me doing the wondering.

Yes, I admit it. I missed him. Ridiculous.

He had gotten to me. All my protests came back to haunt me as I trudged up the stairs to my apartment, a leather satchel full of the Kun-lo files slung over my shoulder.

I think it had become a matter of pride for me.

I had said no. That should have been the end of it.

But the King had carried on, and I, in my own stubborn way, had continued to throw obstacle after obstacle into his path. I suppose even a Dragon had his limits.

Once inside my home, with the door shut, and the windows closed against the outside world, I could be honest with myself.

I didn't just want the Dragon King for sex or blood.

I liked him. I really liked him. I hadn't known my existence was so dull until he shone his light upon it.

Now, I couldn't unsee the dismal manner in which I lived.

I wanted to get angry at the King about it, but it was hardly his fault. Besides, I had work to do.

“Ephemeral emotions,” I muttered to myself. “They'll be gone soon enough. Like a night breeze. Only a fool makes his happiness contingent on another person.” Lecture complete, I got to work.

An hour later, I was on the floor of the main living space with notes scattered around me.

There were accounts of a man following Kun-lo that Claw Greishen had ignored.

Witnesses had seen this man on over three occasions.

He also happened to be Argaiv—like Greishen.

Greishen would never investigate an Argaiv for a crime against a human.

“Damn him!” I flung yet another report down. “How could he be like that? Prejudice has no place in the law. He took an oath. And he had to look the boy's parents in the eye. How could he? How could he face them knowing that he had ignored key evidence?”

I sucked in a breath, realizing that I had bared my fangs.

That's how angry I was. Looking around, I was glad for my job.

Without it, I'd be dwelling on the King finally giving up on me.

And the mistake I might have made in letting my pride get between us.

But instead, I was concentrating on Kun-lo.

I had to. If I didn't find him, another person would die.

Yet, my mind turned back to King Tor'rien.

Ephemeral or not, I liked him. And I liked the feeling of liking him.

Didn't that make it more foolish to ignore my emotions?

So there's the mating magic hanging over the King's head.

So what? It probably wouldn't be me. And didn't that make him safe?

It was practically guaranteed that even were I to do something ridiculous and allow an emotional bond to form between us, he would eventually end things.

He would have to. Either he would get bored with my dullness or his mate would appear.

Dullness. Was that what I was? Dull? To others, yes. To myself, I felt satisfied with my work. It interested me. Without it, my mind would spin and spin until I went mad. Didn't that make me the opposite of dull?

I looked back at the piles of paper. Witnesses had been mostly human. Even if they were still alive, they'd be old, and the minds of humans failed as they got older. I doubted even Kun-lo's friends would remember him.

Then something caught my attention. I picked up a sheet of paper.

“His parents died in a mining accident. Son of a bastard.

Greishen didn't have to look anyone in the eye. It was easy for him to toss out this case. The only one who spoke up for the boy was me.” I paused as that sank in.

“I was the only one who spoke up.” A shiver of instinct ran down my arms. “Is this why Hallaxgral chose me?” I rubbed at my neck.

“He's in here. Somewhere in this case, there's a link to Hallaxgral. To find him, I have to find Kun-lo.”

I searched the reports again. Hallaxgral couldn't be one of Kun-lo's friends.

He'd be an old man. And Kun-lo had no other relatives listed.

Of course, that didn't mean he didn't have any, but again, sixty-eight years was a long time for a human.

So, he wasn't human. He was of an immortal race, but he must have cared about Kun-lo.

“Damn it all! This is what happens when you become emotional, Tekhan.

You see the crime through irrational eyes.

Hallaxgral didn't care about Kun-lo. This is a game to him.

This case is important only because it was the first time I spoke out against a superior officer in the name of justice.

It established me as a man of integrity.

That's why it's important to him. The question is—does Hallaxgral see himself as honorable too, or does he think I'm hindered by my integrity? What point is he trying to make? That a criminal genius will always win against a law-abiding man, even if that man is smarter than the criminal?” I sighed and rubbed my forehead.

“And now we're sinking into conjecture. This is not helpful. Do not make up stories about him. You are speculating, that is all. Concentrate on the facts. The clue.”

I looked back at my notes.

“Dig,” I whispered. “The obvious conclusion is that Kun-lo is dead and buried. But where?”

I put the reports of the stranger who'd been following Kun-lo before me in a row.

With a gasp, I realized they were all in the same location.

Then I scrambled for the bag with the boy's clothing—the items that had never been recovered.

Did that mean Hallaxgral was the stranger who'd been following Kun-lo?

That would make him an Argaiv. It didn't feel right to me, but I wouldn't rule it out.

Hallaxgral had gotten these items somehow.

That meant he was involved with the case or he had solved it.

I suspected the latter. Hallaxgral had found the body and the satchel must have been with it.

It made the most sense and yet made no sense at all. A criminal solving an old murder case? Ridiculous. But a criminal genius solving an unsolved murder to prove that he could and I couldn't? Now, that was interesting.

“Stop it! You are not having fun! Someone's life hangs in the balance, Tekhan!” I grimaced. “And you need to stop talking to yourself, even when you're the smartest or only person in the room.” I looked back at the boy's belongings. “If they were buried with him, they will have evidence on them.”

A knock came at the door, making me flinch even though it was soft.

I jumped to my feet, papers and clothing scattering to the floor, and stared at my front door.

I knew who was outside. Well, maybe not him.

Probably not him. The King would send one of his knights to fetch me.

Or maybe he wouldn't. He liked to come after me himself.

Dear Gods, I couldn't predict what he'd do!

He was unfailing and unpredictable. Which made him fascinating as well.

I looked down at myself. I had removed my shirt and shoes so I only had my pants on. There was no chance of me greeting King Tor'rien like that. He'd take it as an invitation.

The thought made me pause in turning toward my bedroom. No. No, I would not open the door like that. Perhaps I would give in to his pursuit—just to silence my primal needs, mind you—but I would not do so in such an uncivilized manner.

The knock came again.

“One moment!” I called as I turned toward the bedroom.

I yanked a shirt off its hanger, pulled it on, and buttoned it as I shoved my feet into some shoes.

Glancing in a mirror as I headed back to the front room, I paused.

My hair was mussed and my cheeks flushed.

I looked as if I'd been entertaining someone in bed.

Couldn't have that. I grabbed a comb and used it. The flush couldn't be helped.

Standing before the front door, I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. I wouldn't smile. I would feign annoyance. With this in mind, I set my lips in an irritated line and opened the door. Then I saw who it was. Or wasn't, rather.

I didn't know the man at all. He was an Eljaffna, but as I mentioned, we don't all know each other. “It's rather late for a stranger to be knocking on my door. Who are you?”

“That isn't important, Claw Shinkai.” The man lurched forward.

Two other Eljaffna swept in from the sides and forced me backward. Before I could draw breath to call out, someone hit me on the head. Hard. Hard enough that I lost consciousness.