experiencing its full force across a distance of a few feet. As her knees turned to Jell-O, she gripped the edge of the bar to keep herself upright.
“Good. I don’t want any more of those.”
So Torque had a stalker. His words implied there was more than one. Could the Incinerator be an obsessive fan? Torque was well-known for his fiery onstage antics. Were the arson attacks a sick tribute?
Or was Hollie, already a Torque fan herself, now feeling the hit of his attractiveness close up, reluctant to accept that he could be the man they were looking for? Whatever the truth turned out to be, she needed to take care. She had come here to unmask a fire-wielding killer. After only minutes in Torque’s company, she was already in danger of getting burned.
Days of yore. Torque liked that phrase. It was all-encompassing, conjuring up images of chivalrous knights in armor on white chargers, maidens in distress and, of course, the obligatory dragon who terrorized the neighborhood by demanding a regular blood or virgin sacrifice.
Except legend didn’t always get its facts straight. Sometimes the maidens did the rescuing, the knights were the ones who terrorized and the dragons were in charge of chivalry. To Torque, yore was more than just a nostalgic word for describing a bygone era. It summed up a time when the veil between worlds had been thinner. When the line between magic and mundane was blurred. When mortals had accepted the evidence of their hearts and their souls. Science had brought humankind a long way. Its benefits were far-reaching, but it had closed down many of those instincts. People looked with suspicion upon the very things that had once sustained them. Witches were cast out, charms and spells were frowned upon, alchemy faded into insignificance.
And dragons? What of those unique creatures who, most people would say, had only ever existed in legend? Even the believers, the humans who truly wanted dragons to have been real, would shake their heads sadly and mourn their loss, holding on to them through their games, paintings and stories.
It was better this way, of course. The last of the true dragons had died out five hundred years ago, spending his last days on a remote island in the South China Sea. Now only the dragon-shifters—a unique breed of half human, half dragon beings—remained. If the world ever discovered their existence? Torque clenched his jaw hard. Not on my watch. He had no desire to end his days in a cage, poked and prodded in the name of research. Even worse would be to become an exhibit in the name of entertainment, paraded and ogled like an elephant in a circus.
Torque was a dragon-shifter, but he no longer bore any responsibility to the others of his kind. His leadership had been brought to an abrupt end and the world had moved on from the days of dragon clans and oaths of fealty. He was the last of his kin. The mighty Cumhachdach had been wiped out by powerful magic, his own life saved only because the sorceress who killed his clan had chosen to torture him by keeping him alive. There had been a time, once... He shook his head, clearing it of any lingering thoughts as he unfurled his huge wings and took to the skies. Once might as well be never. These days, his only loyalty was to himself.
He swooped over his private island, blending easily with the night sky. As he flew lower over the dense forest, his scales changed color to match the tones of the trees. Camouflage was the dragon version of invisibility. Had he ventured into a city skyline, he would have become concrete gray. When he passed over an ocean in daylight, he was the exact blue of the waves below him and the sky above.
Torque’s eyes scanned the landscape, homing in on a tiny creature moving in grass and the tilt of a bird’s wing many miles away. His ears isolated individual sounds, locating rustling leaves and human voices along the coast. Dragon senses were the keenest of all, but on this night he was distracted by his human emotions. Feelings he barely understood were pulling at the edges of his consciousness, forcing his attention away from the beauty of the landscape.
After centuries of being alone—and liking it that way—he had felt something deep inside him stirring. And he knew why. All it had taken was a pair of green eyes, a shy smile and an enticing figure. It wasn’t as if he lived a hermit’s life as a human. He was a rock star. Temptation came his way and he didn’t turn it down. Beast worked hard and played harder. Although the dynamics had changed now that Khan, lead singer and former party-animal-in-chief, had become a happily married man.
Torque knew why his emotions were in turmoil. The Pleasant Bay Bar’s new employee had shaken him so much he couldn’t think of anything but her. Hollie Brown was undeniably good to look at, and she had admitted that she was a fan. A plume of white smoke rose from his nostrils into the night sky as he snorted. He encountered fans all the time. His head wouldn’t be turned by nothing more than a pretty face.
No, this was about something deeper and far more dangerous. Throughout the many centuries of his existence, Torque had never considered the possibility of taking a mate. Dragons mated for life and so did shifters. Fortunately, his mortal persona wasn’t bound by the same constraints. When it came to his sex life, Torque preferred to be guided by his human genetics. They had served him well...up to now.
Now, suddenly, his instincts were telling him things were changing. It was crazy on so many levels. He knew nothing about Hollie. But he knew everything he needed. As soon as he had looked into her eyes, he had recognized two things. The first was that she was his. As if that wasn’t earth-shattering enough, the second was that she wasn’t who she claimed to be.
So, let’s take a second to analyze this... My mate just strolled into town. And she’s lying to me.
It wasn’t the best start to a long-term relationship. And he had to accept that his instincts must be wrong. Because Hollie couldn’t possibly be his mate. She was human. Dragons and humans? How could that ever be a thing? Other shifters could take humans as mates. It was rare, but when it happened, the humans could choose to become converts. That meant they could take the bite of their mates and be transformed into shifters themselves. Although it was a huge commitment, Torque had known of a few occasions when it had happened.
Not for dragons. To maintain the purity of the dragon bloodline, the option to convert a human mate didn’t exist for them. A dragon could have a relationship with a mortal, but it could only ever last as long as the human’s lifetime. They could never truly be fated mates.
Even supposing he decided to initiate the whole “mates for your lifetime” conversation, he couldn’t picture it going well. I’m a dragon... He just couldn’t see it working as a first-date conversation starter.
Normally, Torque looked forward to these nighttime flights. Maine wasn’t Scotland, the dramatic land of his birth, but the scenery wasn’t entirely dissimilar. Tonight, his heart wasn’t in his exercise routine. He had a feeling those green eyes and that shy smile might be responsible for his apathy. Something about Hollie had reminded him of the past. Yore. In those days there had been a creed, a code of honor, and she had reawakened it within his breast. Although nothing about their encounter had led him to believe Hollie needed his protection, Torque’s senses were on high alert. If she had been his mate—and that was one hell of a big if—and if there had been a looming danger, back in the day he would have been beneath her window, watching over his lady while she slept. Simpler times, easier solutions.
Circling the bay one last time, he landed on a slope close to the trees. His huge claws gripped the soft ground, gouging deep into the grass. Folding his wings close to his body, he shifted quickly back to his human form. Naked, he stretched his limbs, enjoying the sensation of the cool air soothing his heated flesh.
He had left his clothes
