Page 86 of Primal Dragon

It didn’t feel right, no matter what his dragon thought.

He slowly drifted off. He never heard the front door open and close.

21

Clandestine Meetings

Quinn knew it was a stupid idea.

She stared at her phone. A text message from James had come in. Though, it hadn’t been from James.

James: I have your James. If you want him, come to the Crimson Club and get him. Come alone.

She shouldn’t go to the club. It was so obviously a trap.

Quinn: Who am I meeting?

James: Come and find out.

Quinn: This is a trap.

James: It’s not a trap. I have a proposal for you.

She stood outside the club, trying to convince herself to go in. She knew Henrik would be pissed as hell when he found her gone and even more angry when he found out where she went.

It wouldn’t be unreasonable to call her a fool. The thing was, she was sick of waiting around. The longer they had James, the more likely he would end up dead in the middle of a battle or something. She was determined to save him from such a fate.

She wore one of her more provocative outfits. A black cocktail dress that clung to her curves and even gave her a decent amount of cleavage. Her mother hated it. Her mom wanted her to wear dresses that were frumpy and would only hang off her curves and make her look wider. This dress made her boobs look great and gave extra emphasis to her hips. She wouldn’t look like one of the women who worked there, but she hoped it would be enough to blend in.

She also carried the last item James had given her for protection. Much like the bottled sunshine, she wasn’t sure what the vial of liquid silver would do for her, but she took it, stashing it in her bra.

The club was thumping with loud music. The crowd was larger for a Saturday night. It would be easier to blend in.

She went in with a gaggle of woman all giggling and woohooing through the line. There was only one night a week the Crimson Club let nonmembers in. She broke off from the crowd once she was in the main part of the building. She headed straight for the bar needed a small dose of courage and to keep blending in.

“Why don’t I get your drink, love?”

Quinn glanced over to find a strikingly handsome man. He was well over six feet tall, broad through the shoulders, narrow through the waist. He looked like a GQ model with scruff and perfectly messy sandy blond hair. His eyes were amber like a good whiskey.

“I, uh, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t like free drinks?”

She shook her head. “Not from strangers.”

His lips twitched like he was amused. “Do you belong to someone?”

“Belong to someone?”

“You’re giving off a ‘get away from me my boyfriend will kill you’ vibe.”

“If I’m involved with someone, it doesn’t mean I belong to them. This isn’t a BDSM club, right? I don’t need a collar to show I’m taken?”

He chuckled. “You don’t need a collar, but it certainly doesn’t hurt. If you were mine, you’d be collared.”

She blinked at him. “I am…don’t need a collar. I have nipple rings.”

His brow raised. “I had a feeling you were my kind of woman. I’m sorry to hear you’re taken.”

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