I raised an eyebrow. “And how would a thief be able to afford this place? It must be worth a fortune, even in its current condition.”
“I told you, I’m a very good thief.” There was a glint in his eyes that was all cheek. “And it’s just perfect for the brood I intend to have one day.”
“If you can find a woman to put up with you long enough to produce a brood,” I said wryly.
“Oh, I’ll find her.” His gaze caught mine, holding it, and suddenly there was something very serious deep in those bright depths. Something that made me want to dance. “And when I do, she won’t want to get away from me. Trust me on that.”
That had almost sounded like a warning. “I think the over-inflated ego I mentioned earlier is rearing its ugly head again.”
He didn’t bother denying it, simply shoved several plastic bags my way. “These are for you.”
“Ooh, presents.” I peeked inside. Jeans, T-shirts, sweaters, and underclothing. I raised my eyebrows and met his bright gaze. “That’s very generous of you.”
His sudden smile was so warm, so mischievous, heat sparked low down and my legs started trembling. Damn, but that was one sexy smile.
“I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to pay me back.”
“I’m sure you could,” I said dryly, trying to ignore hormones that were up for repaying in kind right here and now. “But I’m not sure I’m up to that sort of payment just yet.”
“One of the drawbacks of being shot, I suppose,” he said, and began pulling food and bottles of drink out of the bags. “You hungry?”
“I’d better be,” I said, watching the growing mountain of cakes, sandwich stuff, and nibbles. “You’ve got enough here to feed an army.”
“The thrill of a close escape always makes me hungry.” He shrugged. “And we can take whatever is left over with us when we leave.”
His words had a sobering effect. “Just how close was our escape?”
“Very.” He walked over to the percolator and poured himself a coffee. “It’s only thanks to the fact that their car blew up that we weren’t caught.”
“I remember you and the other dragon having a flame battle. That’ll give the old couple in the diner something to talk about for weeks.”
“Undoubtedly.” He didn’t look all that concerned, and I suppose he had no reason to. After all, who in their right mind would actually believe the old couple’s tale? The scientist and the other man wouldn’t back it up, after all. Not when they wanted to keep their project a secret.
“The car blowing up was a fortunate piece of timing,” he added. “It killed one of the men, and sent the dragon flying. Though I have to say, I’m finding it hard to believe our kind would work with these people.”
I ferreted out a box of Twinkies from the food pile. “Some people will do anything for money.”
“True.” He pointed with his mug to the bench. “I brought my laptop in. I found Louise Marsten’s address in the phone book, and thought we could do a little Internet search. See if we can find some house plans to make it easier for ourselves.”
“Good idea.” I opened the box, dug out some Twinkies, then opened one of them and bit into the squishy, overly sweet cake. I couldn’t help a sigh of delight. Around the mouthful of cake and cream, I added, “God, I missed these things.”
“Twinkies?” He shuddered. “I was a Pop-Tart kid myself.”
“I almost burned the house down with one of those. Got stuck in the toaster.” I picked up the second Twinkie. “Those suckers sure do burn for a long time.”
“Which is why you don’t toast them.”
“They are designed to be toasted,” I said dryly. “That’s the whole point.”
“But they taste better untoasted.”
I shook my head sorrowfully. “We obviously have incompatible tastes. What hope is there of a future together?”
“If incompatible tastes in snack food is the worst problem we ever face, then I think I’ll live a happy man.” He sipped his coffee, his blue eyes twinkling and filled with a heat that caused all sorts of havoc to my pulse rate. “I take it, then, that as soon as you and Egan got the codes, you were planning to go back to Scotland?”
“Not immediately. As I said before, I have to see my Dad first.”
“Is it just age, or something more?”
“It’s diabetes.” And while it might be a common and somewhat controllable disease for the majority of the world’s population, for dragons it was deadly. The insulin produced for humans didn’t work on the different body chemistry of a dragon, and research was nonexistent simply because few knew dragons—let alone the many other mythical races that haunted this earth—actually existed. Dad was lucky to some extent—we’d found a dragon-born doctor who’d been willing to drive to our place to treat Dad privately. Between the doc’s herbal medicines and diet management, they’d been able to slow the advance of the disease for many years, and had given Dad a pretty good quality of life. He might have lost an arm to it—and therefore his ability to fly—but otherwise there wasn’t much he couldn’t do.
But the fact that Dad was now dying suggested any containment had well and truly gone. Which only made the guilt I felt for leaving him that much sharper.
Surprise flitted across Trae’s face. “I know a lot of human diseases and medicines can be deadly for us, but I didn’t realize diabetes was one of them.”
“We were lucky, because we found a dragon-born doctor who knew a lot of traditional herbal medicines. It helped for years.”
“My mom’s into the herbal stuff. You wouldn’t believe the concoctions she used to give us as kids.”
My ears pricked up. “Us?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Me and my sister, Mercy.”
“So she’s a draman, like you?”
“Yes, but not kin to Egan. Her father is one of the lesser males.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Lesser males?”
He nodded. “Air dragons have a hierarchy system that’s based on both color and bloodline. The strong color lines—like blacks, reds, and golds—tend to raise more kings than the browns and the blues.” He shrugged. “There are some bloodlines that have never raised a king, and are considered ‘lesser’ families.”
“Much like British royalty.” I paused, and opened up a packet of chips. “What about the ring? You said it’s the king’s ring, but I get the feeling that it’s more than a bit of fancy jewelry.”
“It’s basically the succession ring. Without it, a new leader cannot be chosen.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have thought that would be a problem. I mean, assholes like your father generally don’t want to lose the top job.”
His smile was grim. “Perhaps not. But without the power of the ring behind him, my father has become weaker and weaker, and will eventually die.”
“What? Why?”
He shrugged, yet the glimmer in his eyes hinted at malicious pleasure. The thief was enjoying his father’s predicament. “Apparently, the life of the king dragon is tied into the stone. Don’t ask me how, because I don’t know.”
“So by taking the ring, Egan found a way to kill your dad without actually getting his hands bloody?”
“Egan would never have won a fight with my father. Not only is our father older and cannier when it comes to fighting but, thanks to the ring, he’s all but invincible.”
“The ring is magic?”
“Only in the hands of the rightful king.”
How cool. And it also explained why the thing always felt cold and icy—certain magics could never hold warmth or life, according to my dad. Though how he got that knowledge, I don’t know. “So do all king dragons have the aid of such a ring?”
“As far as I know, yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m gathering sea dragons don’t?”
“Not that I know of. We don’t even live in groups like you lot do.”
“That’s probably a good thing, trust me.” He hesitated. “So where precisely is this research center? Loch Ness is a fairly big place from what I recall.”
Obviously, he was through talking about his family, hence the sudden change of topic. “Where else would it be? Drumnadrochit.”