Mercy Burns

smile was grim. “Hopefully, it’ll be a mistake they’ll live to regret.”

That was my hope, too. We continued in silence, and eventually he drove into the parking garage near Pier 39, once again finding a dark and gloomy spot in one of the corners. I slipped my arms into the backpack, settling it across my back before following him to the elevator. Once we were at street level, we joined the dwindling crowds of tourists looking at the stores and enjoying the carnival atmosphere. Eventually we made our way toward the marina and leaned against the railing to look at the small group of sea lions.

Damon glanced at his watch. “It’s twenty past six. What time was this guy supposed to be at the boat?”

“Seven.”

“We’ll stay here for another thirty minutes, then move across.”

I nodded and crossed my arms on the old wooden rail, watching the snoozing sea lions. The setting sun began to streak the sky with red and gold—bright banners that heralded the onset of night. The air burned with energy, the music of it so sweet and strong that I felt like singing right along with it. I raised my face to the flag- covered sky and drew in a deep breath. The energy of it flowed through me, renewing and revitalizing.

“You’re practically humming with pleasure,” Damon said softly.

“I’m a dragon,” I said without opening my eyes. “I’m just not as much dragon as you.”

“You’re draman. You shouldn’t be able to feel the energy raised by the dusk, let alone thrive on it.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

A somewhat sardonic smile touched his lips. “You’ve been asking me nothing but questions. Why stop now?”

“Why did you kiss me last night?”

He blinked. “Your thought processes really don’t follow any logical path, do they?”

“No. Are you going to answer the question?”

He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the railing. He was so close that my skin tingled with awareness. “I kissed you because I wanted to.”

Part of me wanted to do a happy little dance, but I resisted the urge. “And now that you know I’m draman?”

He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “You being draman doesn’t alter the enjoyment of that kiss, however brief it might have been.”

“So you don’t regret the action?”

“No.”

“Then why keep bringing up the fact I’m draman like it’s some kind of problem?”

“It’s just that you’re constantly surprising me, Mercy.” He hesitated and raised a hand, his fingertips lightly touching my cheek. “My reaction has nothing to do with you personally.”

His caress sparked the fires deep inside and a shudder that was all pleasure ran through me. But I stepped away from him, even though it was the last thing I really wanted to do. I needed to make him understand. Needed him to see me. Not just the draman. Not just the woman. Me.

Why, I don’t really know. It wasn’t like we had the possibility of a future.

Maybe it was just some perverse idea that if a man who didn’t believe draman should exist could see me—the person rather than the draman—then maybe there was some hope of a better future for us all.

“But it does, Damon,” I said softly. “It makes me feel like I’m a second-class citizen. Like I’m never going to be good enough, no matter what I do.”

He frowned and clasped his hands together on the railing again. “Draman are not dragons, and that is something you’re never going to change.”

“No, but we can change the attitudes that go with it.” I waited until a young couple had walked past, then added, “Because what you’re saying now is that despite the fact that some of us can do exactly the same things as full-blood dragons, we don’t deserve an equal footing. That we indeed deserve the punishments and death.”

“I’m not saying that at all, but—”

“There are no buts here, Damon. We live and breathe fire just like you full-bloods, and we deserve the same sort of respect.”

“You’re never going to get that respect easily, Mercy. The old ones are too set in their ways.”

“But I’m not standing here talking to an old one, am I?”

He studied me for a moment, his dark eyes as unreadable as his expression, then he glanced away again.

I sighed. “If you can’t respect me, what’s the point of kissing me?”

Still he didn’t say anything.

Way to go, Mercy. Open your big mouth, make your point, and lose any chance of getting down and dirty with Mr. Dark and Dangerous. Maybe one of these days I’d learn to shut the above- mentioned mouth.

But then again, maybe not.

Because really, it needed to be said. I was sick to death of full-bloods thinking I was a quick and easy lay just because I was draman. Granted, I enjoyed sex as much as any other dragon—or draman, for that matter—but there had to be something there. And that something wasn’t disdain for what I was.

Unfortunately, full-bloods could be great deceivers, and sometimes not even those of us who had spent our whole lives around them could tell truth from lie. I wasn’t even sure they knew the difference, sometimes.

And I was fervently hoping Damon wasn’t one of those deceivers, because I had a feeling he could cause me a whole lot more heartbreak than any of the full-bloods in my past.

I dropped my gaze back to the sea lions, who were doing little more than lying on their blubbery bellies, soaking up the last few embers of sunlight.

As the last of dusk’s energy and music faded, I pushed away from the railing and said, “Let’s walk toward the boat, just in case he gets there early.” Anything was better than standing in that depressing silence.

“Do you know the mooring number?” he said, walking close enough that the heat of him washed over me, chasing away the growing chill of the night.

It was nice, sharing someone else’s heat, although it probably wouldn’t last too much longer, because he’d have to flame down once we got near the boats.

“I wasn’t given that information, but the boat’s name is the Heron. We should be able to walk along and find it.”

“I think it’ll be quicker and easier to ask.”

“So we’ll ask. It’s not like it’s a major problem.”

“Except if we ask the wrong person, and we end up notifying our kidnappers that we’re down here.”

I frowned. “But we know what our kidnappers look like.”

He glanced at me. “We may have beaten two of them, but there are more henchmen than that in this little gang, I assure you.”

I supposed he was right. The truth was, I hadn’t actually thought about it, even though I knew it must have taken more than the four men I was aware of to destroy the draman towns. “We’re not going to Angus’s boat, though, but his friend’s, so as long as we’re careful, we should be all right. After all, neither of us resembles our usual self.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is when you look like a kid wearing your much-older brother’s clothes.”

A smile touched his lips. “I think you look rather cute.”

“And I think you’re insane.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to think that,” he mused. “I can see the Heron from here. She’s the white-and-blue motor yacht.”