Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(63)

She ignored me, her gaze fixed on Rogan. “My name is Sloan Marcus of House Marcus.”

Rogan pondered her.

“We’re the third largest telekinetic House in Texas,” she said. “I’m a third-generation Prime. I’m twenty-one, in good health, and free of genetic diseases. I’m a graduate of Princeton. You interest me. My profile will be available to you on request.”

She just propositioned him right in front of me.

Rogan nodded. “My companion is much too polite to explain the facts to you, Sloan, so I’ll have to take it upon myself. She and I had a rather trying morning, and, having washed off the blood and gore, we came here for a quiet meal. You’re interrupting it.”

Color tinted her cheeks. She wasn’t embarrassed. She was angry at being rebuffed. “I don’t believe you understand. I said, my profile will be available to you.”

“I don’t think he wants to see your profile,” I told her. “He hasn’t even looked at mine, and we’re sleeping together.”

She condescended to look at me. “Primes marry other Primes.”

I smiled at her and kept eating.

Sloan raised her chin. “Nobody says no to me.”

“Lie,” I said.

“How dare you?”

“It’s a fact,” I told her. “Someone says no to you a lot. You lied about being twenty-one as well, but it was a good speech, so I didn’t interrupt.”

Rogan laughed quietly.

“Who do you think you are—”

“Leave us,” Rogan said. His voice had a tone of unmistakable command to it.

Sloan opened her mouth. Rogan’s magic splayed out around him, an invisible but violent current. The dragon had opened his wings.

Sloan stumbled back, her face shocked, and hurried off on her impossible heels.

Rogan’s magic vanished.

“Have you ever checked if you and I are compatible?” I asked.

He frowned. “I’d have to get Tremaine records for that. Do you think your grandmother would give me access?”

“I doubt it. Although you never know with her. Didn’t she promise me to you?”

“Yes.”

Now was as good of a time as any. “Garen Shaffer came to see me today.”

Rogan’s face was relaxed, almost casual, as he cut his steak. “The heir.”

“He asked to have dinner with me tomorrow.” I cut another tiny slice of the pork chop. “I said yes.”

Something crunched. Rogan kept eating, his expression perfectly calm. The thick window glass beside us developed a hairline crack all the way across the top corner, just above Rogan.

“Thinking about the future is important,” Rogan said, his voice neutral. “I understand why you want to keep all possibilities open.”

Oh, you idiot. “A truthseeker was involved in breaking through the hex and helping Pierce to find the artifact. A truthseeker also created a barrier in Harcourt’s mind. We haven’t yet been confirmed as a House, but the moment our profile went up, Shaffer jumped on it. I’d like to know more about him.”

“That’s as good of a reason as any.”

“If he’s working with Harcourt, he may know where Brian is kept.”

“Sounds logical.” He was cutting his steak with surgical precision.

“I’d like you to watch.”

“Of course.” He froze with his fork in midair. “Run that by me again?”

I spoke slowly. “I’m going to record the conversation with a hidden camera and send live feed to Bern. I’d like you to watch it.”

He just stared at me.

“Going to see Shaffer carries a risk. He did something today in my office that made it difficult for me to recognize if he was lying. He was testing my magic. There is some possibility that he will try to do the same thing with me as I did with Augustine. If you hear me start to confess things, please call me. I’m hoping a phone call will be enough of an interruption, but I can’t be sure.”

“So you don’t mind if I listen in on your date?”

“It’s not a date.”

“Your dinner appointment.”

I sighed. “If I minded, I wouldn’t ask you to monitor the conversation.”

He came to life like a shark sensing a drop of blood in the water. “What if I come with you and just get a different table?”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re clearly concerned. I’m also concerned about your safety. If you allow me, I can be near in case things go wrong.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment Shaffer puts his fork down the wrong way, you’ll storm in there and slice off his head with his silverware. Or some loose change in your pocket.”

“I won’t need silverware or anything else. If he hurts you, I’ll wring his neck with my hands.”

I pointed my fork at him. “And this is exactly why you will give me your word that you will maintain some distance.”

“How much distance?”

“Lots.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Rogan, stop.”

He took a swallow of his wine. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes did. They grew guarded.