Page 14 of Dragon's Flame
The tether between them pulled taut.
Somehow, while he’d been resting, Seris had come closer.
“She’s here,” he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief.
Rocky froze, his tail wagging uncertainly. “Really?”
Tarian nodded, his senses sharpening. She was nearby—within the block, perhaps even in the building.
Did she remember him now? Was she searching for him, too?
He stood abruptly and paced to the far side of the hotel room to open the door.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Rocky said.
“You’re a dog,” Tarian reminded him, and then stepped outside.
Seris was close.
The hotel was nice but unremarkable, with rows of doors and faintly flickering lights overhead. Somewhere above him he heard the sound of a television coming through an open window. His dragon’s senses sharpened as he moved. He could hear muffled voices behind doors, the rush of cars passing by, and beyond that, the distant crash of the ocean.
But beneath every other sense he possessed was the knowledge that his mate was near.
Rocky paused to sniff a discarded food wrapper near a vending machine, but Tarian strode past, his focus singular. The pull inside his chest burned like a beacon.
But as he approached a flight of stairs, he hesitated.
Something felt . . . off.
A whisper of unease rippled through his magic. The tether didn’t weaken, but an instinct honed through centuries of survival—one that had kept him alive even in the Sirens’ hellish Gate—urged him to slow.
He glanced down the stairs. Voices echoed up faintly from below, chopped and tense, and his senses sharpened even further.
Every muscle in his body rebelled as he stepped away from the tether, descending the stairs as quietly as he could. Rocky took his cue from him, quietly following, his tail alert and his nose sniffing. Each step took him farther from Seris, and he hated the hollow ache that bloomed in his chest at the growing distance.
But his instincts never lied. At the landing, he spotted them—two men, their conversation hushed in the dark.
One handed something small and metallic—a phone, perhaps, or some other device—to the other, who nodded and stuffed it into his pocket.
“They’re here,” the first man muttered.
“Let them have their fun,” the other replied with a smirk. “We’ll deal with her when it’s over.”
Tarian froze, homing in on every detail. Their postures were tight, their movements too precise to be casual. One of them crossed his arms and leaned against a railing, his gaze flicking up to the rows of rooms above them.
The pull inside Tarian’s chest grew hotter, more urgent.
He wasn’t the only one hunting tonight.
“Stay here and watch them,” he quietly commanded the dog. “Tell me if they come up.”
Then he pivoted and ran—faster, harder—the tether yanking him toward her door.
12
KENNA
Kenna sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a little nervous. The hotel room was nicer than she’d expected—modern decor, soft lighting, and a faint hint of lavender in the air, probably from some overachieving cleaning spray. It wasn’t homey, but it felt...safe.
