Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(42)

An errant cluster of chestnut-brown hair had fallen into his sapphire eyes, and between that and his flawless, angled jaw; the soft, smooth complexion of his skin; his words…his demeanor…his oh-so-gentle touch; it was all clouding her brain.

And she didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

She had questions she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t even imagine bringing them up, like to hell with tomorrow, what about tonight? Did he expect her to sleep in his bed? Like what about the consecration, this date she had with the temple—what exactly was involved with rebirth? It wasn’t in the books she had read, and he hadn’t gone into it at her apartment.

And worse, there was that thing she had done earlier.

That thing in her purse.

That thing she didn’t dare think of, lest the dragon was reading her thoughts.

Lest she was projecting again…

But he was right about one thing: Her fear was consuming her—it was practically making her sick. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, and if it got any worse, she could hardly function going forward. She would give anything to feel calm, to be back in control, to even embrace the illusion of self-determination.

If only for a moment.

And so she went out on a limb and slowly nodded her head, trying desperately not to tremble.

Zane immediately took the cue. He pressed forward to close the small distance between them, dropped his hands from her face to her waist, and gently tugged her forward. As her body gave way to his momentum and strength, he braced her lower back with one hand, encircled her shoulders with his arm, and pulled her against his chest…into his embrace.

There.

It was done.

More or less.

He was holding her, and she was letting him.

So why did she feel like she was about to panic?

“Shh, little one,” he whispered in her ear, and a strange, peaceful warmth poured into her. It traveled along the canal of her ear, down her neck, and into her shoulders, where it spread out in light, pulsing waves and enveloped her chest.

She took a slow, deep breath, and even that felt like a summer’s breeze wafting through her chest, delivering a powerful sedative throughout her body.

He rotated his hand on the small of her back, and the same thing happened there: Her hips, her thighs, her knees relaxed, and her body folded into his.

She felt like she was floating on a cloud.

He caught her up in his arms, and she didn’t protest as he traversed the deck in five long strides, entered through the large French doors, and made his way across the suite to the raised platform, laying her down on the bed. “No fears, precious angel,” he reassured her—though she was too relaxed to care. “Only serenity and sleep,” he added, and she felt a current of lethargy pulse through her. “I will sleep in the chair beside you,” he whispered. “And in time, we will talk about the temple and your rebirth. No worries. Not now. Only peace.”

Ah, she thought absently: So he had been reading her mind.

As her eyelids fluttered shut and she sank into the mattress, she had the sensation that he was drawing a blanket over her, and she sighed.

“Ah, baby,” he whispered, sounding curiously sad.

“Hmm?” she tried to reply.

“What did you put in your purse?”

My purse? she thought, unable to catch his words…

And then the entire world went dark.





Chapter Seventeen

Monday ~ the next morning

Jordan Anderson shot straight up in bed, her eyes darting to the nearest clock in a panic.

What time was it?

Had she missed Macy’s surgery?

She was met by a deep, gravelly voice and a strong, steadying hand on her forearm—Zane, perched in an armchair beside the bed. “Whoa there, angel. You’re in Dragons Domain with me…in the Sapphire Lair. You’re safe.”

She glanced at the tall, muscular male and rubbed her eyes. “I know that. I remember, but what time is it. I have to—”

“It’s six AM,” Zane interrupted. “From what you told me on Saturday, Macy’s surgery is at nine, and she has to check in at seven. We still have plenty of time.”

Jordan drew back, trying to process Zane’s words through her sleep-fogged brain. It was six AM? “You remembered all that?” she mumbled.

“Of course I did,” he replied.

She sat up in bed, leaned against the massive iron-and-wooden headboard, and tried to collect her thoughts. Tried to remember the night before.

She immediately peeked beneath the thick cotton blanket still covering her body and sighed in relief, noticing that her clothes were still on. “You put me to bed?” she asked, still a bit confused.

“I did. You needed the sleep.”

She nodded. “Yeah…yeah…I sort of remember that. I just”—and then her eyes caught a glimpse of her purse, situated on the nightstand, and the entire memory slammed into her like a freight train. She swallowed a lump of anxiety. “Last night…my purse…” Oh dear God…

His voice turned solemn. “I didn’t rifle through it. I figured that would be wrong…disrespectful.” He leaned in toward the bed, and his severe sapphire-and-gold eyes met hers. “I wanted to wait so you could tell me yourself.”

Jordan folded her hands in her lap and stared at her thumbs. “Tell you what?” She decided to play stupid.