Page 53 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

“If you wanted to take me to a bar, you could’ve just asked me for a drink.” Whack, her fists hit against his leathers, again. “Now let me go.”

He couldn’t, even though her legs kicked while keeping her on his shoulder. He hit the veyll’s fold for home.

Paradox.

In his chambers, he dropped her to her feet.

She staggered once as she pulled down her shirt as if to gather herself. Brushing the hair out of her face, her mismatched eyes flashed full of fury as she took in the vaulted stone ceiling, the shifting light beyond the arched windows, and the subtle hum of ancient wards and staves that helped control his power.

“You kidnapped me!”

He studied her carefully, looking for signs of nausea or a collapse to the knees. Yet there were no signs of mortal disorientation at all.

Only anger.

She shoved him in the chest. “You arrogant—”

He stepped back before she could strike him again. The magick stirred like a volatile heat from that dragon that had stupidly awakened inside his chest. It would not hurt her, because it wanted to protect her. It’s what made him violate her rights like this.

And he had done it on Gellar’s orders.

“Stay. You’re safe here.”

“You don’t get to decide—”

But he’d hit the veyll again before she could finish.

The church car park reformed around him where her car sat alone under the afternoon sunshine.

Martar, Rocharde, and Condorr stood exactly where he had left them a few minutes ago.

Condorr’s thoughts were always loud and impossible to muffle: By the realms, a woman slapped the Captain. No one dared slap the Captain. Condorr was trying hard not to laugh.

Zarek ignored it.

“Could you sense me?” He could sense his brothers, and normally would, but with Angela, he could not sense them at all. Magick recognized magick; that was how the Sworn Exarchs could link with each other in this mortal realm.

Rocharde shook his head. “We didn’t, not from the moment you went to find the… female.”

“It’s like you were gone.” Condorr shrugged his beefy shoulders, who had the gift for reading magical signatures. “I couldn’t feel you anywhere.”

Martar asked coolly, “Where did you go? The bookshop?”

“Yes.”

“Distance?”

“Hong Kong. Then the Bone & Whistle in Germany.”

“Wards?”

“Her shop, the professor’s, and she saw through the glamours at the Bone & Whistle. Did you keep your cloaking in place? Because she saw all three of you.”

“Yeah, we got that when she pointed at us,” said Rocharde. “Did you sense us?”

“No. Not from the moment I…” He had interrupted her lying so peacefully on the grass at the cemetery, with her hair splayed out around her like she was wearing a crown of vulnerability and wildflowers. Sadly, it had quickly turned to thorns the second she’d felt his presence.

Zarek hadn’t meant to disturb her. In fact, in that moment, his blackest of hearts beat hard, and the inner dragon had paused to drink her in as she lay under the sun. He’d lived for centuries, and in that one fleeting moment, he’d felt more than words could describe. And he was a man who didn’t bother with emotions or the words to say such things. He’d simply gone there to save her and was just following orders.