Page 39 of Dark Prince

He rolls his shoulders, almost a shrug, but more fluid. “He has an antagonistic view of doing business. He accepts collateral damage and sacrifices, as long as he isn’t the one being damaged or sacrificing anything. He uses his underlings as disposable tools, and he is incapable of diversifying. He’s had a singular goal for all of eternity, and nothing will distract him from that goal, no matter how unreachable it is, or how destructive his pursuit.”

The depth of the frustration in his voice surprises me, as does the fact that this high-powered billionaire and I actually have a lot more in common than I ever would’ve thought.

I smile slightly. “All of eternity, huh?”

Lucas shifts in his seat, his prickly aura smoothing slightly. “Certainly feels that way,” he says with a snort. “It wouldn’t have been so terrible if he wasn’t dead set on dragging me into his endless drama with him. He insisted that I was the only one who could tip the scales in his favor and refused to listen to reason. But some scales should never be tipped, and some, when tipped, are favorable to no one.”

“Is he proud of the work you’ve done? The empire you’ve built?”

Running a hand through his hair, Lucas smirks. “He doesn’t consider it to be worth his attention. It isn’t what he would have done with his power, time, or energy, so it’s meaningless. We don’t talk much anymore. I got tired of being told to come home and do my job.”

“Really?” My mouth drops open. “He doesn’t think you’re doing your job?”

“Again, it’s not the job he wants me to do, so it doesn’t count.”

I lean back against my seat, blowing out an astonished breath. “The unofficial King of Los Angeles, and it’s not good enough for your dad. That’s impressively short-sighted of him.”

“He sees things from a unique perspective,” Lucas says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Down a tunnel, with blinders on either side.”

That makes me laugh, which ignites a twinkle in his eyes. The steward-pilot—pilot-steward?—employeecomes back then and serves us a little brunch, complete with mimosas. I’m grateful for the drink, even though I’m sure being even tipsy around Lucas after yesterday is a bad decision. But talking so much about my parents has fried my nerves a little, and I’m happy to take the edge off.

Besides, I don’t feel as awkward around him anymore. Knowing that he, of all people, is a disappointment to his father makes me a little more comfortable hanging out with him. I don’t feel like he’s quite so alien now, in spite of the fact that we’re currently cruising miles above the earth in his own personal UFO. Well,FO, at any rate.

Our conversation eventually dwindles again, into a warm, comfortable silence rather than the icy freeze out from before. Between the drink and the perfectly balanced temperature of the plane, a deep relaxation creeps up my body from my toes to my scalp. I watch the clouds drift across the sky and slowly, irresistibly, sleep wraps me in a warm embrace.

I don’t really dream on the plane. I’m vaguely aware of warmth and gentle movement, a peaceful void where rest I didn’t know I needed lives. I don’t know how much time has passed when Lucas’s gentle voice wakens me, but the sky is painted with the warm purples of an early evening.

“We’ll be landing shortly,” he tells me, his voice almost tender. Has he been watching me sleep?

I wipe my mouth surreptitiously and sit up, straightening my skirt. “You never did tell me where we were going. What—”

Something slams into the jet before I can finish my question.

The shock of it knocks the air out of my lungs. I took my seatbelt off earlier once we reached cruising altitude, and I tumble out of my seat at the impact, grasping for anything to anchor myself to. I hit the floor of the aisle heavily, and alarms sound from nose to tail as the lights on the plane flicker.

“Damnation,” Lucas swears, leaping to his feet.

He’s steady, even though the plane isn’t, and I don’t have time to wonder how in the hell he manages that. When I glance sideways, gripping the armrest of my seat to try to haul myself back up, I realize there’s something outside the plane.

At first, I think it’s a dark cloud, or maybe smoke. But as I catch another glimpse of the shifting gray color outside the windows, I realize that it looks more like… scales than anything else. Before I can lean in to look closer, the jet lurches in the other direction, hurtling me helplessly forward as the scale-like things flick away from the windows.

“What the hell is that?” I scream as Lucas loops an arm around me to keep me from falling on my ass again.

Then my stomach lurches into my throat and my head spins as the plane jerks again. We tilt to one side, and I yelp, clinging tightly to Lucas’s arm as my breath leaves my lungs in a rush.

The thing outside the window moves again, and I get a better look at it this time, but I barely believe what I see.

It’s a fuckingdragon.

My mind rebels just thinking it, but there’s no way to unsee what I’ve just seen. It’s a dragon with too many legs. A scaly fire-breathing cockroach the size of a bus. My eyes can’t make sense of it, and it doesn’t help that it’s standing in front of a background that doesn’t look real, a dizzying spiral of sky and earth that has forgotten the laws of physics.

The thing lunges at us again as the plane tumbles away, then all I can see are serrated teeth and quivering tusks. Or maybe they’re pincers.

What the fuck is that thing?

“Carlin!” Lucas bellows.

Smoke is billowing from somewhere on the plane, and the dragon-thing is darting all over outside, trying to corner us as we spiral toward the earth. Somehow, Lucas moves us toward the cockpit, practically dragging me as he guides me up the narrow aisle.

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