“How many of them attacked you?” asked his friend.
“Six.”
Rayer had to fight to keep from growling. He wanted to kill something. Anything. Who could have dared to harm her? There was a goodness that seemed to radiate from her. Something that said she was light. She was happiness. Who had dared to try to snuff that out?
He wanted answers, and he wanted to shift into a dragon and hand out retribution.
“Child,” said Timothy, putting his hand on Alondra’s. “How is it you’re here with us now? Did the attackers run off?”
She gripped the man’s hand as she shook her head. “No. I mean, yes, but only because I hurt some of them.”
Timothy’s bushy white brows lifted and he glanced fleetingly at Rayer. “Did you now?”
She bowed her head. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I just acted on…”
“Instinct?” asked Timothy.
Alondra lifted her head. “Yes. I didn’t know I could do that. I don’t think I could do it again.”
“If you needed to, you would be able to,” said Timothy with a grin. “I’m sure of it.”
The man’s line of people had witches in it as far back as he could trace. That was why he’d been drawn to Rayer to start with, and why he’d never been afraid of what Rayer was or what he could do.
“I’m so tired,” confessed Alondra. “I can’t go home. They know where I live. They ripped my apartment apart. I think they were looking for all the journals.”
“What journals?” asked Timothy.
Alondra didn’t reply, but she did glance down at her bag near her feet.
Rayer knew then she had something the men were after. He didn’t care about journals. He only cared about her. She was precious.
Precious?
He staggered backward and bumped a side table, making a vase full of flowers rock and then nearly fall. He caught it with one hand, righting it at once. When he looked up, he found Alondra watching his actions carefully.
He wanted to offer her words of encouragement. Something to set her mind at ease. “You will stay here, with me. Think of leaving and there will be hell to pay.”
She jerked in the seat, nearly knocking over her mug of hot chocolate.
Timothy groaned. “Mr. Drackos.”
Rayer released the vase and took a deep breath, hoping to calm his beast side. “I mean, you are welcome to stay here. With me.”
As her lips began to tremble, he feared she’d cry because of him. He wanted to cover the short distance between them and hold her close. That urge alone kept him rooted in place. He wasn’t the type of man who offered anyone comfort, yet he had held her already, and wanted to do so again.
The smallest of smiles broke over her face, and he realized she was laughing at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re not afraid of him?” asked Timothy, still holding her hand.
“No. I don’t know why. He’s loaded, and rich men have long reaches. He’s huge. Look at him. He has to be at least six and a half feet tall. And he looks like he could lift this table with one hand. He did offer to eat annoying kids. That was, uh, nice? Plus, he glares a lot, but…I don’t know. Something about him makes me trust him, and I don’t even know him.”
“Good,” said Timothy, standing slowly and coming toward Rayer. “A word in the lobby, Mr. Drackos.”
Rayer followed the man out.
Timothy rounded on him, poking him in the chest. “Control your dragon and your temper around her. That girl needs your help and your protection. She’s been infected with aemaemurous demon toxins.”
The blood drained from Rayer’s face. Aemaemurous demons were rare, and lethal to humans and most supernaturals. Dragon shifters had a natural-born immunity to them. It was then he realized what the sickly-sweet smell had been: the aemaemurous toxin oozing from her wounds. “How is it she still breathes?”