Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(52)

Told Karen Wilson everything?

Could her best friend’s mother somehow help, create a distraction, or aid in Jordan’s rescue? Did she really have to wait on Dan? Why was she sitting there in a public place, with someone she knew—and actually trusted—allowing the whole dystopian scenario to play out, when she could simply cry for help?

Zane emitted a low, almost inaudible growl, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and Jordan started. I am doing my best not to read your mind, dragyra—he spoke in her head! But your emotions—your impulses—are still leaking out. Take caution, angel. This is not a game.

Jordan sank back in her chair.

What was she thinking?

No, she could not ask for help, and especially not from Macy’s mother.

The flighty woman would abruptly freak out; Zane or Axe would take control of her mind; and last, but not least, Jordan would destroy any trust she had built with Zane—she might even lose the privilege to travel back and forth through the portal, albeit escorted by two fearsome beings.

She felt, more than she saw, Zane’s deep sapphire eyes scrutinizing her from beneath his dark sunglasses, and a shiver rose up her spine: How would Karen Wilson react to Zane’s intense dragon-irises—to sapphire orbs that should have been white? How would Jordan react if she saw them right now, and they were angry, disappointed…or critical?

Discomfited by the question, she reached for her purse, which was sitting on the table, grasped the leather opening in her closed fist, and yanked it onto her lap, leaning over the bag protectively.

Zanaikeyros moved like the wind, so quickly that he seemed like a blur.

He reached for her arm, pulled her out of her chair, and began to lead her away from the table. “Excuse us,” he said, ignoring Karen’s audible gasp. “We’ll be right back.”

A few heads turned as Jordan shuffled to keep up with him, but a quick compulsion from Zane made them mind their own business. Jordan glanced over her shoulder to check on Macy’s mom—she was afraid of what the woman might do.

There was no need to worry.

Axe had taken off his glasses, and Karen was staring blankly into his black-and-sapphire orbs, her own eyes quickly glazing over from compulsion.

It was just that simple, Jordan thought.

Zane and Axe were just that powerful.

And she was just that screwed…

She yanked her arm free as they came to a halt near a willow tree, shading them from the sun, and she squared her chin at Zane. “What the hell are you doing?” she snapped, feeling her anger rise.

“Forgive me, dragyra; did I harm you?” Despite his intensity, his voice was thick with concern, and his eyes swept over her arm, searching for signs of a bruise.

The sudden shift in tack caught Jordan off guard, and she frowned apologetically. Yes, he looked angry…or perhaps he was worried…but his touch had not been brutal. Zane hadn’t marked her skin. “My arm is fine,” she said softly. “What is this about?”

Zane took a slow, deep breath and reached for her hand. “What is in your purse, dragyra?”

Jordan pulled her hand away. “What?”

The tip of his nose twitched in annoyance. “You heard me. What is in that purse?”

“I already told you, the map, a page from the atlas—”

“No,” Zane argued. “You lied.”

His words landed like a ton of bricks—it didn’t matter that they were true—Jordan felt insulted, cornered, and disrespected. “How dare you,” she whispered, her own nostrils beginning to flare. “After everything you have put me through.”

Zanaikeyros shook his head and removed his sunglasses, allowing her to see his eyes. “You misunderstand my words, my angel. I did not say that you are a liar—I have seen your soul, and you are not—but you have chosen to deceive me in this matter because you feel as if you must. And I have done my level best not to invade your mind, not to search your purse, not to push the issue…at least this once. But even with that effort, I already know that you are planning something…reaching out to someone…hoping to escape our fate. And I would be remiss to let it go. What’s in your purse, dragyra? Who did you text on your phone?”

Jordan swallowed her fear and held Zane’s gaze.

Fine, he wanted the truth?

He was all about honesty?

Then she would give him some truth of her own.

“Unless you force me, I am not going to tell you. Unless you read my mind, you are not going to know.” She pushed through her dread and gathered more courage. “You are doing what you have to, Zane, and so am I—why is that so hard to understand? Why can’t you allow me one simple dignity? Did you really think I would just come with you, follow you into a whole new world—go along to get along—and never once complain or fight back? Did you really think you could take me from my life and insert me into yours?” She crossed her arms over her middle. “I don’t want this, Zanaikeyros. I’m sorry, but I don’t want you. I want to go back to my life as I’ve always known it, and I will try anything…do anything…say whatever I have to in order to make that happen. So yes, I lied to you.”

The hurt in his eyes was visceral, but to his credit, he didn’t lash out. Rather, he continued to stare at her, circumspectly, his own shadowy pupils scanning left and right as he peered deeper…and deeper…into her soul. When he finally uttered a reply, his voice sounded hoarse, like broken glass. “I do understand, dragyra,” he slowly bit out. “And I care more than you will ever know about how all of this affects you, how you feel, and what you want. And I would do anything to shoulder this burden for you, to make the change and the adjustment easier, but I cannot.” He took a small step back, and his countenance softened. “I will not destroy your dignity, Jordan. I will not rifle through your purse. And I will not steal your phone. But understand me clearly when I say this to you: I will never let you go. You are mine now, my dragyra, and the world you once knew is no more. If you bring other humans into this, they may get hurt. I am not a human male—my dragon is not merciful—and I will fight to the death for what is mine. Decide not rashly, my angel. You are playing a very, very dangerous game.”