Page 47 of Destiny of the Dragons

It grew darker to simulate night, and lighter to simulate day, but the light resembled the time he’d spent in Alaska, just various shades of purple and blue and gray.

The Troll Market existed in a small pocket of reality, reachable only with a special key and the right door. Las Vegas was perfect for portal doors with the number of resorts and casinos on the Strip.

He blew a plume of ice out of his mouth. The Troll Market was home to all the supernatural monsters that hide away from unsuspecting humans. He didn’t have to hide his draconic nature.

Or his monstrous one.

His contact was about to be late.

Smoke gritted his teeth, breathing out another plume of frost.

Just as he was getting ready to leave, a man hustled up the sidewalk. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his eyes glowing yellow. Tiny horns curled out of his thick forehead, and his deep-set eyes made him look like a large troll.

“Here,” the man said. “I’m here. Traffic. On the. Boulevard.”

Smoke didn’t say anything. He just waited for the man to continue with the hand off.

This part of the job grated his nerves. If he could have done his business without ever saying a word, Smoke would have done more in-person jobs.

The man waited for him to say something. After a minute, he got the hint and produced a medium-sized duffel bag.

“It’s all here. It took longer than I thought, but it’s here.”

Smoke opened it up.

Instead was a variety of magical items, from a large chunk of crystal to a thick yellowed spellbook.

Some of the tension eased in his chest. This might be enough. For now.

Smoke pulled a slim black box out of his jacket and handed it over.

His contact opened the box, a small silver scale lying on the black velvet.

The man looked at him, and Smoke saw the question in his eyes. Was this Smoke’s scale?

It wasn’t, but the man didn’t need to know. It belonged to a young Sapphire dragon about her enter her first molt. The scale would remain magically powerful, but unable to be traced back to her.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

Smoke nodded once.

“Word of warning.” The man slipped the box into his pocket. “Rumor on the street is Cross has himself engaged again.”

For a moment, Smoke was back in the taxidermy shop. Cross’s creations sat on shelves, staring lifelessly at him in grotesque horror. The entire place stank of formaldehyde.

“I thought he was going to marry that sorceress?” Smoke frowned. Cross was a dangerous man. Mia had almost—Smoke turned away.

He couldn’t think about her. The hurt was a yawning chasm inside him. Nothing would ever fill the hole she and Jace had left.

“Supposedly he killed her.” The troll man smirked.

He paused, probably waiting for Smoke to ask who the new bride to be was, but Smoke couldn’t bring himself to broach the subject. Smoke should have put a bullet between Cross’s eyes months ago, but if it was ever traced back to him, it would jeopardize everything he had built.

No one warned Smoke how dangerous it was caring about other people. His life was no longer his own to discard at a whim.

Cross came from a powerful clan of witches who were still very much in their power, even after many families started to decline.

“But this new betrothal,” the troll sobered up. “Could be something to worry about.”

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