Page 25 of Real Scale Blazer
“Oh, absolutely. But watching you two dance around each other is much more entertaining.” She tilted her head, studying him. “You know, for someone who can transform into a giant fire-breathing lizard, you’re not very good at hiding your feelings.”
“I don’t have?—”
“Please.” She waved off his protest. “I’ve known Quinn for years. I’ve never seen anyone get under her skin the way you do. And I’ve never seen anyone look at her the way you just did.”
Kai remained silent, but Lydia seemed to take that as confirmation.
“Just... give her time,” she said, her voice gentler now. “Quinn’s brilliant with rocks and science, but people?” She shook her head. “Let’s just say her heart’s taken more hits than her geological samples.”
With that cryptic statement, she bounced away, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. He could still smell Quinn’s scent in the air, still feel the phantom pressure of her hand against his chest.
Time. He’d waited centuries for his fated mate. He could give her time to understand what was growing between them. But his dragon growled at the thought of waiting, of watching her put herself in danger while he stood back.
How did one protect someone who viewed protection as an insult? How did he balance his instincts with her independence?
The answer eluded him, but one thing became clear: Samara Quinn would either be his salvation or his undoing. And his dragon didn’t seem to care which, as long as she was his.
“Strength lies in control,” he muttered his father’s old saying, trying to center himself.
But for the first time in centuries, control felt like a losing battle. And the most unsettling part? A small, growing part of him didn’t mind losing—not if it meant winning her.
After Lydia’s departure, Kai retreated to his private chambers, but peace evaded him. Every few minutes, his enhanced hearing picked up snippets of Quinn’s voice from somewhere in the palace—her sharp observations about the geological formations, her dry responses to the palace AI’s commentary on her “primitive” equipment, even her quiet humming when she thought no one could hear.
He shouldn’t have been listening so intently. It wasn’t... kingly.
TWENTY
Aknock at Kai’s door preceded Darian’s entrance. His friend’s expression wavered between amusement and sympathy. “The human scientist has requested access to the eastern mountain range. Should I arrange an escort?”
“No.” Kai pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’ll only refuse it. What’s her current location?”
“The library. She’s been researching our historical records of seismic activity.” Darian’s lips twitched. “I may have arranged for extra guards to patrol that area. Purely coincidental, of course.”
“Of course.” Kai’s tone suggested it was anything but.
“You could try talking to her. Without the growling and posturing.”
“I don’t posture.”
Darian’s raised eyebrow spoke volumes. “Shall I list the number of times you’ve ‘happened’ to fly past her research sites? Or how you’ve memorized her daily schedule? Or perhaps?—”
“Enough.” Kai’s eyes flickered gold in warning, but Darian merely grinned.
“The great Dragon King, reduced to stalking around his own palace like a lovesick hatchling. Your father would be?—”
“If you say ‘amused,’ I’ll demote you to dungeon guard.”
“I was going to say ‘proud.’ You’ve finally found something you can’t simply command into submission.”
Kai slumped into his chair—a distinctly un-kingly gesture. “She’s so... frustrating. Brilliant and fearless and completely immune to normal courtship protocols.”
“Ah yes, because nothing says ‘be mine’ like snarling and hovering.”
Before Kai could respond, his communication crystal hummed. Gerri Wilder’s cheerful face materialized in the air.
“Well, well.” Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “I hear you’re having trouble wooing your mate.”
“I’m not—” Kai stopped, realizing denial was pointless. “How do humans typically handle courtship?”