Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(43)

He chuckled, but it was a humorless sound. “What’s in your purse, Jordan. What didn’t you want me to find?”

Well, that was a fine wake-up call, she thought. And holy hell—what could she say?

His expression grew impassive. “Look, I know the situation is awkward, and neither one of us chose this fate, but here it is. Here we are. The way I see it: The only thing we have going for us, this far, is honesty. It’s the only way we’re going to work this out.” A dead calm settled over him, and he modulated his voice. “What’s in your purse, Jordan.”

Jordan shut her eyes.

She needed to think.

On one hand, he was right: They were facing a bizarre, untenable situation, and honesty always helped—hadn’t he been brutally honest with her? But on the other hand, she was committed to something far more basic, more primal, than working things out with Zane. She was committed to her own survival, intent on her own escape. There was no way—no how—she was going to become the consort of a dragon and live in some foreign domain, and he was batshit crazy if he thought otherwise…no matter how congenial he was being.

No matter how deceptive she had been.

I mean, let’s just get real, she thought.

“I photocopied a page from the atlas,” she said, diving in with both feet.

“Come again?” he prompted.

She fiddled with the hem of the blanket. “In the library, when Levi took me, I used the copy machine to photocopy a page.” She prayed that the copier she’d seen actually worked, or the jig was up.

He furrowed his brow, and his striking, enigmatic eyes grew more intense. “What page? Why?”

She let out a slow, deep breath. This just might work. “Um, one of the pages in the back—it showed the whole of the territory.” She winced, feigning a measure of guilt. “I’m not sure why I took it. I guess…I thought I might be able to use it, maybe find a portal, maybe find a way to escape.”

Zane didn’t react, at least not visibly. If there was something going on in that dragyri heart, it was very well concealed. “I already told you, the portal is in here.” He brushed the pads of his fingers over his amulet and frowned. “And where in Dragons Domain would you possibly go? You know nothing about this realm.”

She nodded and met his gaze. “I know. I can’t say it was rational. It was just…I just…what if I needed to escape, to run…from you? I just took it, okay?”

Zane studied her eyes, far too keenly, and then he slowly nodded his head. “And you thought that would anger me? That I would be upset if I knew?”

She pivoted like a lawyer. “Aren’t you?”

He smirked, clearly catching her ploy. “I am…concerned…that you don’t trust me, not even a little, not yet. We are running out of time.”

And there it was again: the metaphorical elephant in the living room: six more days until the temple…

She pivoted again.

“You said you would tell me more—everything—about the ceremony in the temple, the thing you call rebirth. The thing you expect me to do.”

Zane nodded, appearing contrite. “And I will…when we have more time. When you’re ready to hear more about our lives, our kind, to listen with an open mind.” He glanced at the digital clock beside the bed. “But right now, it’s already 6:15. You still need to get dressed and eat breakfast. And we still need to travel through the portal if you want to meet Macy at the hospital at seven, to be with her throughout the pre-op.” He leaned back and raised his eyebrows. “It’s up to you. I won’t deny you if you insist on talking now.”

Well, wasn’t that just an impossible decision—keep her word to her best friend, or finally hear the details of her date with destiny.

With doom.

Any other time…

She glanced toward the pocket door that led to the en suite bathroom and frowned. “I need to be there for Macy.”

Zane stood up, and the sudden shift in his position, the stealthy, animalistic way he moved, the slumberous yet predatory rise to his full, intimidating height made her heart lodge in her throat. She was in the presence of a slayer, no matter how charming he could seem, and she needed to remember that.

“Your duffle is in the bathroom, and the shower panel is self-explanatory—the way you work the jets, whatever heads you choose. I’ll meet you downstairs in the kitchen—Jace is already preparing the morning meal.”

Jordan’s heart retreated from her throat, sank in her chest, and dropped lower…to her stomach. That was all she needed, next: to sit at a massive, mission-style table, surrounded by four more predatory dragons, and try to swallow food. She’d be lucky if she didn’t spew in her plate.

Still, she wasn’t about to tell that to Zane.

The sooner he left the room—and she could breathe again—the better.

“I’ll be down in twenty minutes,” she said, marshaling her courage. Her eyes darted to the elegant French doors, and then the floor-to-ceiling windows that illuminated the deck, almost involuntarily. Every instinct in her body told her to run, to flee, to dash out the doors or climb through a window and sprint as far…and as fast…as she could. But Zane had been right when he had reminded her that she was in a foreign land. She didn’t know the topography—hell, she didn’t know what strange or dangerous animals might be lurking in the trees, behind the bushes, crawling out of the waters, poised and ready to pounce—and she didn’t want to know.