Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(68)

Jordan knew better.

And it was all her fault—the entire quandary.

Unless she could tell him the truth, what did she expect?

“So, how do you feel about leaving here in a couple of days and going to a safe house?” Dan asked, glancing at her steaming hot tea. “Drink some more, Jordan; you need to stay hydrated.”

Jordan did as he asked.

“Do you think you need a new identity, something along the lines of witness protection, or will lying low for a while be enough?”

“No,” Jordan exhaled. “It won’t be enough, but neither will changing my name.”

Dan rubbed his tired eyes. “Sweetie, we’ve been over this…again and again…what aren’t you telling me, baby? It isn’t like you to be this shaken up—and not to look for viable solutions.” He leaned forward, beside her, on the couch. “For heaven’s sake, you act like this man is a god.”

Jordan ignored the distinct hint of jealousy in Dan’s increasingly frustrated voice. It was unbecoming at best, and that had nothing to do with her predicament. “Dan,” she moaned, realizing she was whining. “I just…I just…” She sighed. “I’m sorry I got you involved in this mess. It was so unfair.”

He took immediate umbrage to her words. “Well, I’m not,” he retorted. “I’m sorry this bastard has you so distraught. I’m sorry that you don’t feel like you can tell me the truth—the whole truth. But I’m not sorry that you reached out to me for help. And I’m not sorry that we’re finally talking, or that you’re finally here—with me, alone—that you trusted me enough to take a chance.”

Jordan stared at him, long and hard: the weary lines in his once-smooth brow, the small brown mole above his upper lip; his immaculate, thick brown hair that now had some gray around the edges…just along his temples. He was only thirty-two, and she couldn’t help but wonder: Had he aged because of her?

“How have you been?” she asked.

The question was a mere whisper, but he let out a deep, lamenting groan, almost as if he had been waiting forever for her to ask that simple question. “Miserable,” he mumbled.

She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dan. I just couldn’t—”

“No.” He held up his hand. “I know what I did. I know how deeply I hurt you. I’m just glad that you called.”

She chuckled halfheartedly. “That I sent you a cryptic letter, you mean.”

“Yeah,” he amended. “I guess that’s a bit more accurate.” And then he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved Jordan’s letter for the second time, setting it conspicuously down on her lap. “Tell me more about this, Jordan. C’mon. I need to know every detail. You say this is the same man, this Zane, who confronted you at the mall. You say he took you from your apartment and brought you into his world—what exactly does that mean? What did he do to you, Jordan?” When she didn’t answer, he frowned. “You said he has no intentions of letting you go, yet he allowed you to go back and forth to work, to the hospital to see Macy—how does that work, butterfly? Where is his world? How did he control you from a distance, corral you from across the room? How did he keep you from running away?”

Jordan winced at the familiar, affectionate term, butterfly. He probably thought she hadn’t heard it, but she had—it was the term he used to call her following the first time they’d made love, a reference to the litany of soft, gentle kisses she had planted on his nose…just like a little butterfly. And right now—God help her—for reasons she couldn’t explain, all she could remember was another tender kiss—another primal, sensuous, smoky kiss—beneath the sonorous drone of a waterfall.

“Damnit, Jordan,” he interrupted her reflection. “We’ve been at this for half a day, and I’ve listened to everything you’ve said. I’ve given you all the time in the world to feel comfortable…to trust…and I haven’t pushed the issue, but you’re smarter than this. You understand the stakes. Baby, I have to—”

“Quit calling me baby.”

“What?”

“Don’t call me that,” she repeated. “And don’t call me sweetie or butterfly, either. Do you think I wanted to reach out to you, Dan? Do you think I felt like I had any other choice? I was cornered, okay? I was lost, and I was scared. And most of all…most of all…I didn’t think it through.”

He looked thoroughly exasperated. “Okay,” he murmured, “I understand that, but just the same—you reached out to me, so I need you to think about this: I’m going to have to explain to the police chief why I demanded the use of the SWAT team, why we ransacked a district court, and why we went in with snipers and grenades at the ready. Not only do I have to justify the expense, but I have to appease the judge, both judges. We are using Moran’s home while he’s away on vacation, and I’m going to need to pacify the press…and try not to lose my job. It’s worth it to me, Jordan—you’re worth it to me—but you have to give me something more. You have to tell me the truth.”

“He’s a dragon,” Jordan blurted. To hell with it; she was out of pirouettes.

“Excuse me?” Dan said.

“He’s a dragon,” Jordan repeated. A terrifying, powerful…exquisite beast, she thought, but she kept that to herself. “Technically, it’s called a dragyri, but the point is this: Zane isn’t human. And he’s not from our world. His world is in another dimension, a domain beyond a portal, and the danger…the power…the imminent threat is the fact that he can move things with his mind; he can move faster than your eye can track; he can probably stop bullets; and he can sure as hell set you, or me, or this bunker on fire.” She lowered her eyes and glanced at the floor, feeling instantly ashamed—Zane would never set her on fire, and she knew that, deep in her heart.