Had she been drugged?
She didn’t feel muddled, though. In fact, she felt better than she had in ages and even odder—she hadn’t had an anxiety attack since arriving here. Now, she was energized—her head clear.
Which was good, because she needed to be on her toes until she determined the Dragon’s agenda. He wanted information, but then what? In her experience, others’ needs seldom dovetailed with her own.
A footstep outside her door, followed by a knock.
“If you are awake—we have somewhere to be.”
How had he known she was awake? Did Dragons have super senses? She supposed a flushing toilet was noisy no matter what realm you were in.
His attempt to keep his voice low would have been comical, if she were inclined to laugh. The Dragon shifter made Darth Vader sound like a soprano.
“Do I have time for breakfast?”
“Be more like supper,” he noted. Hesitated. Then, “I have eggs.”
That would be a start. “I’ll be right there.”
When she emerged, he was bustling around in the kitchen. The sight of seven feet of gorgeous Dragon shifter turned chef slowed her to a shuffle. She was grateful for the sweatpants on his lower half, but his sculpted torso was clothed in a tee shirt of the distinctive turquoise scales. Rows and rows of them, hugging every contour. A glimmer of metal caught her attention—was that a nipple ring? Her eyes flashed to his left ear, which had intricate metalwork all along the outer arc. She then stared at the Dragon tattoos twisting up his bare arms. They were beautiful, intricately depicted. Had the artist been a Dragon himself?
The movement of his forearm muscles nearly brought them to life. The guy must have zero percent body fat.
“How do you like them?” he asked as he hauled out a skillet.
It took her a moment to associate the question with the eggs, and not the Dragon tattoos dancing over rippling muscles. Finally she unknotted her jaw. “Doesn’t matter.”
He eyed her doubtfully. “I might be able to manage sunny side up. Anything else ends up rather scrambled. I am not a natural in the kitchen.”
That explained the bucket of fried chicken, all right. Gauging distance between the stovetop and the available seating, Dani pulled out the end stool at the island. “Scrambled is fine.”
His expression lightened as he cracked several eggs onto the skillet and turned to dig through the fridge, emerging triumphantly with a package of bacon. He peered at the expiry date.
“Still good,” he declared, and opened it.
She noted the packaging. “Do you do all your shopping in the human realm?”
He shrugged. “I work there.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You work?”
The Dragon arched a brow at her. “Dragons love nothing better than a good deal, and we trade across the realms. Some of us are very good at hoarding, too. If you are looking for something in particular, we can usually track it down for you.”
The myths about Dragons were true? Hoarding and good deals—who knew? That explained some of the furniture she’d seen. But not all of it.
“Your couch isn’t very exotic.”
His lips twitched. “It’s from one of your local retailers. It was a great sale!” He shifted his feet, as though he were a bit embarrassed, before he said, “Our own couches are rather severe. Humans like things soft and squishy.”
She raised a brow. Soft and squishy didn’t seem like a Dragon prerequisite. “You said we have somewhere to be?”
“Yeah. A meeting.” He shot her a look, a flash of turquoise from beneath arched brows. His eyelashes were thick and jet-black, making him look like he was wearing eyeliner. With his coppery skin and the waist-length black hair braided back from his face, the effect was quite exotic.
And handsome as hell. Not that Dani cared for flying lizards. Or men of any kind. Not anymore.
She took a deep breath. “What kind of meeting? I already told you I don’t know anything.”
His sculpted lips pulled straight. “Let me be the judge of that. You might be surprised how even the smallest details can matter.”
