Page 5 of Dragon's Flame
Because what else did he have to prove his cause?
He stared at the café’s door, willing her to emerge, just so he could see her again.
A low growling sound pulled him from his thoughts. For a moment, he thought it was his own voice vocalizing his pain, but then he noticed the dog behind him, its matted fur bristling as a uniformed man approached, with weapons holstered at his hips.
“Is that your car?” the man asked gruffly.
Tarian straightened to his full height, looming half a head taller than the man. The temptation to reach for his powers burned beneath his skin. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to remember Rax’s warnings.
“Why?” Tarian asked with a low voice.
The man craned his neck, trying to peer around Tarian into the tinted windows. “I’m going to need to see a license.”
In the distance, the café doors opened, and Tarian tensed. A gust of air carried the faintest whisper of orange blossoms his direction, and his attention snapped fully to the entrance.
“Again, why?” he asked distractedly, barely glancing at the man.
“We had reports someone looked like they were going to cause trouble. Near as I can figure, that’s you—and I don’t think you own this car.”
Two figures emerged from the café’s open door. A blonde and a brunette.
Tarian’s breath caught, suffused with longing. He had to follow her immediately, plead his case, make her understand.
The two women got into a car, the brake lights flashing as it turned on.
She was disappearing. Again.
“Hey!” the man in blue barked, resting a hand on something at his hip. “I’m talking to you!”
Tarian took a step toward his car to follow, ignoring him—and the man whipped out his weapon. It was shiny and black, trembling slightly in the man’s hand, as he waved it as though it ought to mean something to Tarian.
“Step back!”
“Get out of my way,” Tarian growled. The dog echoed the sound behind him, adding a snarl of its own. Tarian’s voice dropped lower, becoming dangerous. “No one will divide us again. Not in this Realm, or in this lifetime.”
The man kept his weapon raised and tapped a device pinned to his collar. “Officer Martinez, calling for back-up.”
“Move, or I will move you,” Tarian threatened, his voice thick with fury.
The car she was in was leaving the parking lot. The faintest trace of her scent, orange blossoms and sunlight, lingered in the air. She was getting further away with every second.
“I said step back!” the man yelled.
The weapon snapped. A sharp sting bloomed in his chest. Curious, Tarian glanced down—to find green blood leaking between his ribs.
He looked back at the man, who was shaking, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Your blood,” the man stammered. “What the hellareyou?”
“You are not very good at that.” Tarian moved faster than the man could track, disarming him with a single twist of his hand. The weapon clattered to the ground before Tarian kicked it beneath the dumpster.
The man’s eyes darted to Tarian’s chest, then back to his face. “It’s green,” he whispered.
Tarian ignored him, scanning the horizon for Seris’s car. He could still feel their connection, a faint pull inside him, but it would take him all afternoon to find her again. The thought burned him more than the projectile the man had shot him with.
He waved a hand at the man, his voice sharp. “Be quiet now. Forget you were here.”
The man blinked, his expression going slack, before turning back to his black-and-white ride.
Tarian cursed under his breath. He should have used his magic from the start rather than trying to follow Rax’s warnings. He turned to the dog, who had watched everything unfold.
