Page 38 of Burned

“Again, I do apologize. My name is Lord of the Drake clan, and I am in desperate need of your help.”

Soft footsteps slap against the stone floor inside the cave, drawing closer.

“Did it ever occur to anyone that moving to a nearly inaccessible cave in the middle of facking nowhere is the opposite of an open invitation?” she grouses, coming into view at the mouth of the cave. I blink with surprise as I take her in, and she smirks. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No, not exactly.”

There weren’t any pictures of her in the book, nor was there a description outside of her immense power and knowledge, but the woman standing before me isn’t anything like I envisioned. If the texts are to be trusted, she’s around four thousand years old, but she looks even younger than I do. A human would likely guess her to be in her midtwenties. Her hair is stark white, long and flowing all the way down her back, and her eyes are a shocking shade of icy blue. Her skin is pale and covered with glowing tattoos the same shade of blue as her eyes. The tattoos are traditional for mages, but I’ve never seen them on a dragon, I suppose because Xanthis is the only known hybrid.

She’s just as naked as I am, but that’s not surprising given she lives alone and likely doesn’t get many visitors.

“Everyone thinks I’m going to look like an old crone. Sooner or later, that’s going to start offending me.” She crosses her armscasually over her bare breasts and leans against one of the large rocks framing the entryway, looking me over with a probing gaze. “Well?”

“Well?” I echo, then I realize she wants me to hurry up and tell her why I’m here. “I need your help.”

“Yeah, I caught that part when you were acting like a bleeding rooster outside my front door.” She sighs and looks over her shoulder into her cave. “I suppose if I’m going to make tea, it’s only polite to offer you some.”

Without waiting for my answer, or even extending a formal invitation inside for that matter, she turns and saunters back into the cave. I hesitate for just a moment, then slip in after her. Just like the dragon mage herself, her home is nothing like I was expecting. The outside might be an unassuming cave entrance, but a few steps in it’s clear that it’s anything but.

It looks like a cozy cottage inside, complete with a full kitchen—presumably powered by magic rather than gas or electric—a small living room lined with overflowing bookshelves, and a fireplace against the wall. She heads straight for the stove, filling a kettle with water and putting it on the front burner.

“Drake, is it?” she asks, but she doesn’t pause to wait for an answer, so I’m guessing it’s a rhetorical question. “Your brother has quite the reputation.” She lets out a throaty laugh.

I frown. It’s telling that she could be talking about any one of my troublemaking brothers. Well, except for Hemingway. He’s always been my favorite because he’s spent his life too busy with his nose in a book to give me any grief.

“Arson?” I guess.

She laughs again. “No.”

I grimace. “Valentino?” Gods know he’s fucked his way through half the supernatural community over the centuries. Is Xanthis one of his scorned lovers? If she refuses to help mebecause of his former fuckboi antics, I’m going to roast him alive.

“No,” she says again.

I frown a little harder. I can’t imagine what Nico would have done to get on her radar. Sure, he’s prickly, but he mostly keeps to himself. The kettle whistles and she lifts it off the stove, pouring the boiling water into a pair of teacups.

“Next time you see Mac, do remind him that he still owes me a favor. I have a long memory, and I’ll collect eventually.” She winks at me over her shoulder.

I heave a sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m not even going to ask what that little klepto did, mainly because I’m sure I can guess, and I don’t think my blood pressure can take any details this morning.

“I’ll tell him,” I assure her.

She nods, then pulls out a chair at the little round kitchen table and waves at another for me to do the same.

“Enough small talk,” she says. “Tell me what you need my help with so I can get back to my undisturbed peace and quiet.”

“Right.” I sit down across from her, my heart hammering against my ribs. If I tell her, will she break the bond immediately? Is it that simple? Or will she give me instructions on how to do it myself? What if it’s not even possible to break the mating bond? A sense of hope jolts through me like electricity and I wish I could blame it solely on my dragon.

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to guess. Divination isn’t my strong suit.”

“Sorry. Right. A little more than a week ago, in a state of dissociation and grief, I came upon what I believed was a mortally wounded human. Without thinking, I acted on instinct to save his life and I…” My throat tightens and heat rises from my belly at the memory of how it felt to seal my lips over Alrick’s and give him my fire. “Bonded myself to him.”

She arches one of her neatly shaped eyebrows. “‘In a state of grief and dissociation…’ Do you mean your dragon was in control?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” She stands and goes back to the teacups, leaving me in suspense as she works on putting loose leaf tea into two diffusers and adding them to the cups. Does she want me to go on or am I supposed to wait for her to say more? I’m afraid to test her patience any further, so I hold my tongue as she makes her way back over to the table.

She sits down and slides one cup across the table to me, and when she doesn’t say anything else, I go on.

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