Page 15 of Hot for the Dragon

"Of course not." She twisted in her seat to face him fully. "But someone needs to give them the option. Maybe some of them don't agree with this whole 'might makes right' dragon philosophy. Maybe they're just waiting for someone to show them another way."

Archer's laugh was harsh and without humor. "You're living in a fantasy world if you think centuries of dragon culture will change because one little witch made a pretty speech."

"Little witch?" Daphne's eyes narrowed. A small vine sprouted through a crack in his driveway and wrapped around his tire. "I'll have you know this little witch just faced down a bunch of dragons without flinching. And I didn't see you coming up with any better ideas."

Daphne's anger bubbled up. The vine around Archer's tire thickened slightly, and she had to consciously prevent it from crushing the rubber. Her powers always responded to her emotions, especially when dealing with impossibly stubborn dragon shifters.

"You know what?" She jabbed a finger in his direction. "For someone lecturing me about dragon culture, you're not exactly following it yourself. Last time I checked, you weren't part of any wing." The words tumbled out. "Did you leave because you disagreed with something too?"

The temperature in the car seemed to drop ten degrees. Archer's jaw clenched, and his shoulders went rigid. Those coal-black eyes that had been blazing with irritation now turned to ice, and his entire presence seemed to withdraw even though he hadn't moved an inch.

Oh no. Daphne's stomach twisted as she realized she'd crossed a line. Here she was, preaching about not judging others, and she'd just thrown his past in his face without knowing anything about it. The vine around his tire withered and crumbled away.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, heat rising to her cheeks. "That was completely out of line. I don't know your story, and I shouldn't have made assumptions or tried to force you to talk about it." She paused and looked down. "I just got defensive and lashed out. That wasn't fair to you."

Silence filled the car. Archer remained still as a statue, his expression unreadable. The only movement was the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Daphne wanted to say more, to somehow make it right, but she forced herself to stay quiet. She'd done enough damage with her words already today.

Archer finally shifted and waved his hand dismissively, cutting through the tension like a knife. "We need to focus on what matters right now. Carmen won't wait forever to strike again, and we need to hit her first."

Daphne's heart sank at his words. The leather seat creaked beneath her as she shifted. "There has to be another way. Did you see how many of them looked uncertain? If we could just-"

"Not this again." His voice carried that commanding tone that probably worked wonders on other dragons, but Daphne wasn't about to back down on this.

"Yes, this again," she insisted. "What's the harm in trying to talk to some of them first? Maybe if we-"

"Because they'll just report right back to Carmen." His eyes met hers. "And then we lose any advantage we might have had."

"Or they might help us." The late afternoon sun streaming through the windshield was starting to make the car uncomfortably warm. "You can't tell me every single one of those dragons is happy following her."

Archer's jaw tightened. "Happy doesn't matter."

"Everything matters," Daphne insisted, watching a bead of sweat trail down his temple. The heat was getting to him too, though he seemed determined to ignore it. "Feelings, choices, free will - these aren't just concepts, they're fundamental rights."

"This isn't one of your flower arrangements," he growled, though there was something almost fond in his exasperation. "You can't just nurture it and hope it grows the way you want."

Despite herself, Daphne felt a smile tugging at her lips. "No, but I can be persistent. Just ask any of my stubborn rose bushes."

A reluctant laugh escaped him, and Daphne counted it as a small victory. Still, after several more minutes of debate, she had to admit defeat - at least for now. The sun was setting, casting shadows across his sharp features, when she finally sighed.

"Fine. We'll do it your way," she exhaled. "So, what's the new plan?"

Archer's lips curved into a dangerous smile that sent an unexpected thrill through her. "Let's head inside first. We've got a lot to discuss."

Daphne followed Archer through the heavy oak doors of his mansion, her footsteps echoing on the polished marble floors. The interior took her breath away - vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, intricate woodwork that she'd bet he'd done himself, and floor-to-ceiling windows.

"This is gorgeous," she said, trailing her fingers along a particularly beautiful carved banister. "Did you do all this woodwork yourself?"

"Most of it." He led her into a living room dominated by rich leather furniture and more stunning carpentry. A half-finished wooden model sat on a side table, its delicate details speaking to hours of patient work.

Archer settled into a leather armchair like it was a throne, while Daphne perched on the edge of the matching couch. The leather was butter-soft beneath her fingers.

"So, what's this brilliant plan of yours?" she asked.

"Carmen's wing needs supplies." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Food, resources, money. They used to trade with the town, but that stopped about a year ago."

"Which means they're getting it somewhere else," Daphne finished, her mind racing. "Secret suppliers in town?"

"Exactly." His black eyes gleamed with approval. "I know some names - people who used to trade regularly with the wings."

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