by Emma Layne
“Even if I knew the answer, I wouldn’t tell you. Foreknowledge is not a parlor trick.” Crispin went back to mooning over Lucy, who was blissfully unaware of his interest. However, her coldness didn’t seem to bother his brother.
At least one of us has some pride. I might be daydreaming about Molly, but I’m doing it quietly.
“Perhaps the problem is you,” Rowan said.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Have you ever considered, she might be indifferent to you? The little scholar might be interested in another brother.” With a smirk on his face, he leaned back in his chair.
“Stay away from her. She’s mine.” After the words popped out of his mouth without any conscious thought, Blaze clapped a hand over his lips.
What’s gotten into me? Have I taken a leave of my senses?
Blaze tried not to think of Molly, even though it was proving impossible. He longed to get back to the inn so he could find her. His need to be around her was all-consuming, petrifying in its intensity.
Clearly, I’m afflicted. He couldn’t get her out of his head, no matter what he did.
“May I offer you some advice?” Destrian asked.
“If you must.”
“Your affairs of the heart are, shall we say, brief, so you’ve never played the long game. Perhaps you should try impressing her, rather than wrangling her into your bed.”
“Why wouldn’t she be impressed with me?” Blaze ran a hand along his square, artfully stubbled jaw.
“Because women are not visual creatures.”
“Hmm?”
“Allow me to enlighten you, they wish to be wooed, coaxed into giving in.”
“And since when have you ever wooed a woman? Don’t you knock them over the head, and drag them into your bedchamber?”
“Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to announce my personal business. I’m in the midst of a new project as we speak.”
“Do tell,” Rowan said, quirking a brow.
He smiled enigmatically. “Not quite yet. I prefer to keep my peace for the moment.”
“Is something amiss?” Crispin asked, turning to Blaze with a thoughtful expression.
“No.”
Crispin frowned. “Answer me this. Why are you so hell-bent on gaining this woman’s affections?”
“I’m not—”
“Do stop lying, Blaze, it’s tiresome. You’ve fallen for her?”
“Bite your tongue.” Blaze shot his brother a fierce glare, but it only made the fool grin.
“I say and do what I damn well please.”
Disgruntled, Blaze glanced around the table. All of them sported bemused expressions, as though they found his predicament entertaining. Perhaps they thought he’d earned a woman’s indifference after he’d indulged himself so often.
“And stop giving me smug smiles. I hate those.”
“The mighty Blaze brought down by love.” Destrian sighed with mock concern. “First Faro, and now you. I fear you won’t be a bachelor for long.”
Until Faro met Amy, none of the Knights had been mated. Blaze had never even considered the possibility. When the alchemists had created their kind, they’d said the results could be unpredictable and so they were.
Drakes mated for life.
Stories of their long-term, fated love affairs were the stuff of legend on Iradia. Losing a partner enraged the beasts, drove them mad with grief until they died at the end of a blade or from a broken heart.
Mated. For. Life.
Ironically, it sounded like a death sentence. One woman for the rest of his wretched existence. All the world is a feast, and I’ll be stuck with the same meal. It was a fate too horrid to even contemplate.
Blaze grasped the pitcher, and drank from it, instead of pouring the beer into his glass. He needed to get very drunk. While he’d die at sword point, Blaze thought the wound would come on the battlefield, or perhaps in the bed of an adulterous lover. Madness brought on by the loss of an earthly human followed by a mercy killing was out of the question.
“She’s not my mate.”
“Care to wager on it?” Destrian asked, holding out his hand.
Blaze glanced at it doubtfully.
“I see you lack the courage of your convictions.” Destrian sighed.
“Leave Blaze alone. I quite like this new side of you, brother,” Rowan said. “You’ve played the lover far too long, and it’s time you settle down, take a wife.”
He couldn’t be someone’s mate. From his understanding, he’d be beholden to Molly for the rest of their lives. It was much more intense than a marriage. They’d share their very essence with one another—a mixture of soul, mind, and body.
And what about explosive, wild drake emotions? What if he accidently hurt her?
“Why don’t you have a talk with Faro? Perhaps he could give you some wise counsel.”
“No.” He’d mocked Faro’s attachment to his mate, Amy, and now he’d fallen into the same trap. Mostly likely, Faro would laugh himself silly and walk away.
Hubris is a cruel mistress.
Chapter Three
I can’t sleep.
Molly glanced at the clock on her nightstand.
Crap, I have to be up in three hours.
It was two in the morning, and she couldn’t fall asleep. She’d been trying to drift off for the better part of thirty minutes, and it hadn’t worked. Molly had tried everything—she’d gotten a shower, changed into warm pajamas, grabbed a soothing cup of chamomile tea and nothing worked.
Ugh. What if I can’t? She had too much stuff to do, to shuffle through her day like a zombie.
Okay, less thinking, and more sleeping.
Fisting her hands at her sides, Molly shut her eyes and willed herself to dreamland. She stayed in the ridiculous position for what felt like hours, but it didn’t work.
Shocker.
Grumbling to herself, Molly jammed her feet into slippers and headed downstairs.
Maybe a snack would help? Or I’m simply looking for something to do. Either way, I want some cheese.
When she crept downstairs, Molly found Blaze standing in front of the open refrigerator door.
Yeesh.
Blaze muttered to himself, cursing under his breath as he poked around in the fridge.
Evidently, he was having trouble locating a meal. He and his brothers had gone grocery shopping the other day, and it was jam-packed with food. Ivy and Amy had to rearrange everything, so they had space for their own supplies.
Molly turned on her heel, suddenly eager to return to her room.
“Hello, dove.”
Busted.
Molly turned around slowly. “Hi.”
“You don’t look pleased to see me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not in the best mood.” It was a non-answer, sort of reply.
“Why are you still up?” He leaned against the counter, and then nearly tripped over his own feet. Blaze clutched it, as though he stood on the edge of a cliff, about to plunge to his death.
“Are you drunk?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, Blaze watched her with this dreamy sort of expression.
“Blaze?”
“What?” He blinked rapidly, as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, you asked me a question. What was it again?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Have you been drinking?”
“Yes, I’ve had a great deal of ale this evening.” His smile was smug.
“You went to the bar again, huh?” The brothers spent an awful lot of their free time at the Flaming Kettle.
Blaze hiccupped. “Yes, with Destrian, Crispin, and Rowan. I think they went upstairs, but I was hungry, so I stopped for some sustenance.”
Sustenance? There’s another one of those outdated words.
And then he reached into the fridge and pulled out a cold chicken leg. The brothers enjoyed roasting meats of all sorts. Earlier in the evening, they’d cooked the chicken over the fireplace in the Great Room, r
ather than using the oven, like normal people.
Blaze chomped on it. “I quite enjoy this chicken.” He said the word, as though there was a hyphen between the syllables. “Would you like some?”
“No, thank you. Good night.” And with that, she hurried to the stairs.
“Wait, can you assist me to my room?” Blaze walked a few paces, and then leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. “This room is spinning around me at the moment.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“I assure you, it is.” He groaned.
“How’d you even get here?” She couldn’t imagine him walking all the way in the snow, in this state.
“I was fine until I slowed down.”
The Smiths didn’t own a vehicle, which she couldn’t quite figure out. According to Amy, who’d checked them in, and examined their identification, they were from a small village near the Arctic Circle, so they must have some mode of transport, even though no one had seen it.
Anyway, they hoofed it around Bleak Bay, hiking miles to the grocery store, and the bar, as well as work, which they were frustratingly vague about. Amy had said they were mining a mineral of some sort for their company, but she hadn’t elaborated. Molly supposed it didn’t matter, it was only idle curiosity on her part.
He held out a hand. “Please?”
Molly heaved a sigh. She wished she could tell Blaze to figure it out or sleep on the floor, but he was a guest, so Molly had to be accommodating.
Customer service sucks.
“Of course, I’d be happy to assist you.” Although, Molly doubted she’d be much help. He had a couple feet on her, and at least seventy pounds of pure muscle. Getting Blaze up the staircase would be a bit like an ant pushing a boulder up a hill.
“Excellent, I need to lean on you.” Before Molly could protest, Blaze lumbered toward her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
And then the most curious thing happened. She instantly relaxed, no longer perturbed by his behavior, or her impending morning alarm. Molly pressed her side to his and hooked an arm around his waist, supporting him up the stairs.
“Thank you for helping me, dove.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
For once, his voice hadn’t dripped with innuendo.
This was the first time Molly felt he’d been real with her. And even more disturbing, Molly enjoyed it, she liked the glimpse of the man behind all the charm. He was vulnerable and maybe even sincere. This was a man she wouldn’t mind talking to and getting to know better.
Okay, it’s definitely time for me to go.
When they reached his room, Molly fished the keys from his pocket and unlocked it, and then pushed the door open. Blaze staggered away from her, and then collapsed on the bed, rolling over on one side, so he could look at her.
Yup, it’s my cue to leave.
“Well, good night.”
Blaze patted the bed. “Come here.”
Nope, not gonna happen.
Funny, but now that he wasn’t touching her, she was anxious once more.
Am I imagining this?
Of course, you are, you’re tired, and talking to yourself.
“No, thank you, I should get to bed, too.
“You could sleep here. There’s more than enough room for both of us.” Like the rest of the guest rooms, he had a king-sized bed, although it was barely long enough for his seven-foot frame. “I promise, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”
“I’m surprised, you didn’t bring someone home with you.”
Over the past few weeks, Molly had watched him sneak up the stairs with a variety of young women, each one prettier than the last. Every now, and then, he took two or three at a time. From Molly’s informal accounting, she thought he never slept with the same woman twice.
Yuck. The man was a walking petri dish. As Ivy would say, Blaze, is a ladies man who leads a life of wine, women, and thong.
I mean, song. Ugh.
“I haven’t, for the past few nights.”
“Why not?”
Blaze glanced away. “Perhaps I’ve grown bored with the local cuisine.”
Gross. “You consider women cuisine?”
Blaze ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, the comment came out wrong.”
Molly doubted it.
She wasn’t an expert on human behavior, by any means, but she got the distinct impression, Blaze was lying. But why would he bother? And what was he fibbing about, anyway?
“What do you say?”
“No, thank you.”
His face fell. “Why don’t you like me? I don’t understand, women adore me.”
Molly didn’t know what to say. He actually seemed sincere, which was a change, but it didn’t sway her. For the most part, Blaze put on a show, charming people, flirting, as though his entire life were one big performance, but Molly didn’t want to play along.
“You’re not my type.”
“Then what is your type, as you put it?” His eyes turned into slits. “You don’t fancy one of my brothers, do you?”
“No, of course not. I’m more interested in my career than men, for now anyway.”
“It sounds dull.”
Rude.
“It isn’t.” There’s something to be said for predictability.
“In my view, life should be about more than duty or obligation, it should be about pleasure, joy. Tell me, Molly, what makes you happy?”
Stunned, Molly could only stand there looking at him. She had no idea how to answer the question, which was troubling.
“Um, I…”
“Know what I think?”
She sighed. “Tell me.”
“I think you need a disruption, a bad influence, a man who can show you the true meaning of the word bliss. Have you ever been blissful?”
“No.” She’d been happy, content, but those terms sounded lukewarm, in comparison.
“A ha!” His smile was wicked, tempting. “You need your feathers ruffled, dove.”
Chapter Four
The next morning Molly went to Black Diamond Labs.
She was feeling out of sorts.
She’d woken up that way, thanks to her intense, thought-provoking conversation with Blaze last night. After he’d offered to ruffle her feathers, which had to be some sort of oblique sexual innuendo, she’d fled the scene.
Molly had tried to sleep, but couldn’t. Instead, she’d stayed awake all night, staring at the ceiling, and thinking about Blaze. More like obsessing.
Put him out of your mind. He’s a distraction, one you can’t afford right now.
Her mother had a spare set of keys to the lab at her home, and Molly had borrowed them when she’d stopped over to feed Lucifer earlier. It had gone off without a hitch this time because he’d still been napping when she dropped by. The cat had opened one eye, and then promptly went back to snoozing. She doubted she’d be so lucky next time.
The lab was quiet at six AM. Most of the employees didn’t arrive until nine, so she had some time to run her tests in peace. It was a sterile environment with stainless steel countertops, white floors, and walls and floors that smelled of bleach. Molly had often visited during her childhood, stopping by after school, and she’d gone to every single “Take your Daughter to Work Days.” Not to mention, the odd Sunday afternoon and during summer vacations.
Molly sighed. I love this place.
Soon, she’d have her own lab, with a staff of her choosing, and it would be worth all the work and sacrifice.
So, she gathered the necessary supplies and set to work testing Blaze’s DNA. Before she started, Molly hesitated. Doing this without Blaze’s knowledge was a violation, but she couldn’t ignore her curiosity. It had to be satisfied.
Molly forcefully put it from her mind and worked on the tests.
Over the years, she’d watched her mother perform many of these and assisted on a few times, but this was the first DNA sample she
’d ever handled on her own. After gloving up, she pulled out the Ziploc bag with Blaze’s comb, and strands of hair inside. Luckily, the roots were intact, or it wouldn’t work.
DNA is pulled from the cells, and copies are made, using a method called polymerase chain reaction, or PCR. PCR uses an enzyme to copy a specific region of DNA numerous times, which makes the genetic code easier to examine. It was a painstaking process which would take time.
Molly didn’t know how long she’d been working, but a knock on the door startled her.
“Oh, hello, I didn’t know anyone else would be here. How’s it going, Molly?” Zoe Parks asked.
She was a grad student in her early twenties with dark red hair, and blue eyes. Zoe worked as her mother’s intern this semester. She wore a pair of black leggings, and a matching hoodie. Her hair was braided, hanging down her back.
“How was your run this morning?”
“Excellent.” She had her customary breakfast, a kale, cucumber and blueberry smoothie in a clear cup. Her cheeks were still flushed from being outdoors.
Like Leslie, she had a personal stake in the work.
Her family had a virulent, hereditary strain of breast cancer and both Zoe’s mother, and aunt had died of the disease. Several of her cousins had been diagnosed as well. Zoe was obsessed with health, too. So she kept herself in tip top shape, and did everything she could to stay fit. She ran every day, ate healthy, and took supplements like green tea, and ginger.
“What are you working on?” Zoe sat next to Molly at the work station.
“A side project. Don’t worry, I cleared it with my mother.”
She lifted her hands. “I’m not the lab police, it was idle curiosity.”
“It’s nothing.”
She squinted. “Hmm, you’re being cryptic.”
“No, not at all.” Time for a subject change. “How’s your internship going?”
She bobbed her head. “It’s going pretty well. I’ll be sorry to leave at the end of the semester, although I won’t miss being Bill’s research minion, when your mom doesn’t have an assignment for me.”
Bill Collier was a colleague of her mother’s, and she’d met the man once or twice.
“If it’s any consolation, my mom feels the same way. She said you’re excellent.”
