“I wondered how long you’d stay,” he murmured, his eyes glinting. He was wearing only his jeans and his muscles were pumped as if he’d been working out, his hair tousled. He looked vital, larger than life, more powerful than your average hunky guy. He was completely composed, which made Cassie feel only more disheveled.
More like Alice down the rabbit hole.
Or spit back out of it.
“Welcome back.” Lorenzo handed her a glass, letting his fingertips brush hers in a way that left Cassie tingling. He arched a brow and toasted her, his gaze unswerving.
Cassie took a gulp of wine, trying to work out what had just happened.
Never mind what she had learned. Had this been another trick? A dream? It had certainly felt real.
Lorenzo appeared bemused.
Cassie looked back at the painting. She looked at him. “You’re not surprised.”
“Very little surprises me anymore.”
“Does this happen all the time?”
“No.” He spoke with such resolve that Cassie believed him. His scrutiny of her was intense, as if he was waiting for her to say something.
“How did you know, then?”
“I didn’t. I guessed.” He shrugged, seemingly at ease with the weirdness of it all. Maybe being a dragon shifter gave a person the ability to take things in stride. Maybe being over four hundred years old gave a person the ability to take things in stride.
She looked more closely and realized that he wasn’t as hard to read as she’d initially thought. If she paid attention, she could make a pretty good guess at his reactions.
Lorenzo was relieved, although he would have preferred to have hidden it. She could tell by the way his gaze clung to her and by the way he stayed close.
He’d been worried about her.
Because it was weird for people to disappear into his paintings.
That made Cassie feel a bit better.
She threw back half of the glass of Prosecco. It was a bit warm, but it still helped soothe her. She was rattled by the exchange with Angelina and the reminder of just how much she’d lost.
Never mind whose fault that was.
“You were gone, yet the alarm system indicates that no one has left the house.” Lorenzo smiled slowly, his expression making Cassie think of more interesting things than paintings. “I realized that Angelina had moved, and that her new protégé was wearing a most unusual outfit for the time.”
“I think that guy, the one up there with the beard, wanted my boots.”
Lorenzo winced. “You should have given them to him.”
“I like these boots!” Cassie protested, then saw the twinkle in his eyes.
Lorenzo lifted a hand as if heralding peace. “We have other things to discuss than your unfortunate choice of footwear.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“You have gorgeous, feminine feet.” His eyes shone with conviction. “The boots don’t do you credit.”
Cassie wasn’t quite ready to be charmed by Lorenzo all over again. Since he was giving her a hard time about her boots, she’d give him one right back. “Does the fact that the sparks of the firestorm aren’t burning anymore really mean that I’ve conceived your son?”
Lorenzo’s features set, his change of expression telling her that it was true.
And that made her mad.
“How could you not tell me?” she demanded. “You can’t just knock someone up without discussing it first!”
“I didn’t believe it.” He grimaced, looking rueful. “I’ve never had a firestorm before and not all legends are true, you know.”
That took the wind from Cassie’s sails. “But you have to believe it. It’s a story of your kind.”
Lorenzo sighed and grimaced. “I don’t believe half of what is said about the Pyr. There’s so much myth mixed in that it’s hard to find the truth. And really, I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”
“Why not?”
He shuddered. “It’s primitive. It’s involuntary. I dislike being out of control.”
Cassie shrugged. “It worked for me that you convinced Balthasar to leave.”
He sighed and frowned, suddenly finding the bottom of his glass fascinating beyond all else.
But he didn’t leave.
And he didn’t shut her out.
Cassie dared to be encouraged. “So, that was a firestorm? All the sparks and flames between us?”
Lorenzo nodded. “Indisputably.” He shoved one hand through his hair, drained his glass, and fixed her with a look. “I thought that sex might quench the flames. That’s the story, so it was worth a try. The flames were inconvenient.”
“You didn’t control them?’
“If I had, I would have put them out.” He looked so irritated that she started to feel a bit sorry for him.
“Messed with your concentration?”
His sidelong glance was fierce. “Yes.” He grimaced. “But the part about the woman conceiving the first time she’s intimate with the Pyr? That defies belief, don’t you think?”
Cassie dared to feel relieved. “Then I’m not pregnant?”
“No, you are.” Lorenzo spoke flatly, with no joy. “I was wrong to be skeptical.”
“You can’t know, not yet. . . .”
He interrupted her tersely. “You taste different. You smell different.” His eyes flashed. “Trust me. You’re pregnant.”
And he wasn’t happy about it.
Cassie sat down with care because she did trust Lorenzo when it came to minute observation. “And if it’s a boy, it’ll be another Pyr.”
“It will be a boy. We only have sons.” Lorenzo held up the bottle of Prosecco against the light. There was still some in the bottom. He offered it to Cassie.
Pregnant?
“I probably shouldn’t,” she said, touching her stomach.
Lorenzo followed her gesture, then inhaled. There was an awkward pause between them, one that persuaded her that he really hadn’t believed she’d get pregnant.
He sat down heavily beside her. “You’re right, of course,” he agreed. If anything, he looked more shaken than Cassie felt. He poured the remaining wine into his glass and drained it immediately.
“You should have told me about it first,” Cassie suggested. “Or at least before the next time.”
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened when he glanced her way, and he bit out his next words. “Maybe I haven’t been thinking too clearly in your presence.”
Cassie’s breath caught. That was another hint that she might have as much effect on Lorenzo as he had on her. He looked grim, but his gaze was simmering still.
She needed more than implication. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He leaned closer, his gaze so intent that her mouth went dry. “That I have never found a woman so distracting in my life.” He glanced over her, and his eyes brightened. “That I have never been in the situation of not being able to get enough, of not being able to think of anything else.”
“Me neither,” Cassie admitted, and saw his relief. “Is that what the firestorm is supposed to be like?”
He frowned. “Only until it’s sated.”
“But we did that right away.”
He smiled crookedly. “Pretty much.”
“So what’s going on?”
His eyes glittered as he regarded her, and he arched a brow. “Kismet?” He seemed to be making a joke of it, which was perfectly consistent with Cassie’s view of destined love.
Even if it might have been nice. . . .
“I don’t believe in kismet,” she said flatly, and he toasted her with the empty glass.
“Perfectly rational,” he agreed, then looked at the painting.
It o
ccurred to Cassie that there wasn’t much going on in this place that was rational. She tried to steer the conversation back to practical matters.
Like her having Lorenzo’s baby. She’d never expected to have kids, and certainly had never intended to have an unplanned pregnancy. The prospect was unnerving.
“So what happens now?” she asked, hearing her own trepidation.
“What do you mean?”
That he could even wonder what she wanted to talk about was irritating. Cassie heard her voice rise. “I’m just supposed to go back to my life and have a child in nine months, one that’s incidentally going to be a dragon shape shifter? And you’ll carry on as if this firestorm never happened?”
Lorenzo winced and she knew he wasn’t as indifferent as he might have liked her to believe. He tapped his fingers on his knee, as if trying to find the words.
Cassie couldn’t wait. She got up to pace.
“This is about you being buried alive Saturday night for that spectacle, isn’t it? Well, here’s something else to think about. After you’re buried in your car, I’ll be out here, on my own, with this Balthasar guy waiting for a chance to fry me.”
“But—” Lorenzo would have interjected, but Cassie was on a roll.
“I don’t even have a car anymore, thank you very much. I’m thinking he can fly faster than I can run—especially if I shouldn’t strain myself for the sake of the baby.” She spun to face a watchful Lorenzo. “Who will defend me when you can’t?”
That he didn’t answer her directly wasn’t a really good sign, in Cassie’s opinion. She felt her heart skip a beat or two as he regarded her.
Then he stood as if they’d been talking about the weather, put the glasses and the empty bottle on a side table, and turned to face her.
“Well? I’m ready for answers.”
“I was just waiting for you to finish,” Lorenzo said, his composure making her want to shake him.
Except he was putting it on. She would have bet her last dollar on that.
“Is it just Balthasar you’re worried about?” he asked.
“No! I’m worried about having a dragon baby alone. . . .”
“I told you. Our powers don’t manifest until puberty.”
“But what happens then? Who’s going to tell him how to do what he can do? And how am I going to manage this, if I survive? Having kids was never part of my plan.”
“Why not?”
Cassie might have brushed off the question, but Lorenzo looked surprised. He looked as if he really wanted to know her answer.
“I don’t believe in the whole married-with-kids thing,” Cassie said.
He arched a brow, waiting for more.
Cassie folded her arms across her chest. “What happens when people decide to get married and have kids and buy a house and get a dog is that the guy carries on doing whatever he wants to do and the woman gives up everything. She becomes the baby maker and the maid and the cook and the housekeeper and has nothing left for herself anymore.”
Cassie would have liked to have stopped there, but it seemed she couldn’t. Angelina had opened an old wound. “And then one day, the kids leave the proverbial nest, and she’s left with nothing at all. Maybe not even a husband, if he’s decided that she’s as boring as she looks. That’s not—and never has been—my plan. I want to achieve something other than adding to the world’s population count.”
Lorenzo was watching her carefully. “Sounds like a personal experience.”
“My parents divorced in their fifties.” The words were bitter on Cassie’s tongue. “It killed my mom. I knew before then that I didn’t want to live her life, but that drove the lesson home.” She couldn’t hold back the words she’d never said aloud. “My mom was just useful to my dad. She gave him kids. She kept the house. She cooked and did the laundry. She did everything. And when she wasn’t useful anymore or young anymore, he chucked her out. Oh, they talked about love fading and all the rest of it, but that was a lie.”
Lorenzo nodded thoughtfully, as if he was really listening to her. But then, he always did. “You said it killed her?”
“She was devastated. I think she really did love my dad. She died within two years.” Cassie sat down, wanting to cry all over again. “He destroyed her, and he didn’t even care.”
She felt Lorenzo watching her. “Anything else bothering you?” he prompted softly.
Cassie couldn’t understand his mood. “Aren’t you worried that I’m going to die right after your car gets buried?”
Lorenzo shook his head. “No. Because you aren’t going to die.”
“How can you be so sure of that? Maybe you’re going to die!”
Lorenzo smiled. “I’m not.”
His confidence wasn’t good enough for Cassie. “You could be wrong, you know. I’ll guess that you have a trick planned, but whatever it is might not work.”
His smile broadened.
Cassie stared at him. “Do you have other superhuman powers I don’t know about?”
Lorenzo thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I think you’ve seen everything I can do.”
He was so calm that Cassie wanted to provoke him.
“Then unless there’s something I don’t know, you are going to die,” Cassie insisted. “You’re going to get buried in that car and you’re going to suffocate, no matter how slowly you breathe or how well you meditate, and when they dig you up in a month, you’ll be dead. But that won’t bother me because Balthasar is going to kill me before the week is out.”
He watched her for a long moment. “Finished?” he asked again.
Cassie remembered the piece of parchment in her hand and thrust it at him. “No. What about this? The only clue I have and it’s written in a language I don’t understand!”
Lorenzo took the piece of parchment with care, his gaze dancing back and forth as he read it. Whatever it said didn’t please him. His lips tightened, but he folded it carefully before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what it says?”
“No. It’s nonsense.” His eyes glinted, making him look dangerous again. She saw a faint shimmer of blue around his body and realized he wasn’t just hiding his reaction—he was a lot more annoyed than he wanted her to realize. That message was important. “Anything else?”
Cassie stared around the room, back at the painting, then at him. “No,” she said. “I think that pretty much covers it.”
Lorenzo gestured to the couch. “Then let’s talk about the future.”
Cassie didn’t trust his calm attitude one bit. It was another illusion, but she was learning to look behind the mask.
Lorenzo had a plan. And he was going to share it with her. Unless he was going to do that flame thing again. JP had said it would only work once, but Cassie wanted another guarantee.
She lifted a finger in warning. “No beguiling,” she decreed. “If I see one flame in your eyes, I’m out of here.”
A muscle tensed in Lorenzo’s jaw. “I thought you trusted me.”
“You have a scheme. Until I know what it is, I reserve the right to not be beguiled.”
His eyes flashed; then he nodded tightly. “Fine.” He bit off the word and gestured again to the couch.
Cassie didn’t move. “Promise me.”
Lorenzo glared at her and the blue shimmer became brighter. “I promise.” His words were hard. This time, when he indicated the couch, his manner was more imperious.
He wasn’t nearly as tranquil as he wanted her to believe.
That was very reassuring. She crossed the room and perched on the couch, waiting for whatever plan he intended to propose.
She would never have expected Lorenzo to say what he did.
Cassie took his suggestion wor
se than Lorenzo had hoped.
“You’ve got to be insane!” she protested. “There is no way that anybody is going to bury me alive in the desert, not for one minute, never mind one month.”
Lorenzo gritted his teeth and fought for control. “If you would just let me explain. . . .”
“No! I don’t care what your plan is. And hey, I’ve got a passenger to think about now, too.” She patted her stomach. “Whether his arrival was planned or not doesn’t matter anymore. He’s here, so I’m going to take care of him.”
Lorenzo sat back. “So you won’t listen to the rest of my idea?”
“No! Forget it.”
Lorenzo inhaled sharply and schooled his temper. “The other option is that you remain here for a month with my father. The house is fully alarmed and apparently my father is more agile than I had believed. . . .”
“No way,” Cassie said, her tone filled with challenge. “You have to cancel your spectacle.”
“Nonnegotiable,” Lorenzo said without hesitation.
“I’m going to have to change my plans in the next nine months. It won’t hurt you to make some revisions, too.” Cassie’s lips set. “It’s only fair.”
“You don’t understand,” Lorenzo argued. “Everything has been arranged. It has taken almost a year to put all the pieces into place, and the fact that there’s so much trouble from my kind proves that I might have waited too long. The spectacle will proceed as planned. You can join me or not. It’s your choice.”
The fact that Cassie carried his son just made his disappearance more imperative. No one was going to use Cassie or their son as a point of weakness to manipulate him.
No one.
Cassie looked at him, her intense scrutiny almost making him flinch. He was aware of the crackle of the parchment in his pocket, of the dire prognosis in that prophecy. It couldn’t have anything to do with him.
Could it?
Even if it mentioned flashfire.
Where had Angelina gotten it, anyway?
“Wait a minute. There’s more to this than the illusion of survival.” Cassie was staring at him, and he could almost hear the gears turning in her mind. “It’s a disappearing act. You’re going to make it look like you do die in that car.”