“Not particularly.”
“Why not? I mean, if it’s a dragon, I can’t really stop you from killing it. Not unless it speaks English and likes blonde girls well enough to listen to one and, even then, only if it feels like turning you into a charcoal briquette.”
Dominic smiled briefly, eyebrows rising. “Good to know that your plans for me include immolation.”
“I’m flexible. I can flex.” I shrugged. “I’ll happily dispose of your corpse in a nondraconic manner, once we know what’s really going on.”
“Fair enough. As for why I’m not terribly pleased about the idea of being right, well. This is my first time in the field. I’d rather not start my career with a failed dragon slaying.” There was something else there—something he wasn’t saying to me yet. I could see its shadow in his eyes.
Better not to push. “That’s cool. I don’t want to call my folks.”
“Then we’re in agreement. I suppose that once we’ve determined the true nature of the threat at hand, we’ll…” He stopped, mouth continuing to move for a moment with no sound coming out.
It was hard not to feel bad for the guy. Sure, he was a stone killer, but he’d been raised that way, and you don’t blame a snake for biting. He wasn’t used to being lost like the rest of us. “You don’t know either, do you?”
Clearly frustrated, Dominic shook his head. “No. I’m not accustomed to lacking a plan of action.”
“That’s okay.” I smiled wryly. “I’m a Price. We’re basically the reason the universe invented improv.”
“Well, then, I suppose I had best stick with you.”
“Don’t think this means I’m not still pissed at you for fucking up my competition,” I said. “Now come on. Let’s go dragon hunting.”
My usual means of information gathering involves hitting the homes and workplaces of the local sentient cryptids and asking what’s been going on at (or sometimes under) the street level. That wasn’t an option with Dominic along. Neither was my customary overland approach. While he wasn’t uncomfortable on rooftops, exactly, he drew the line at throwing himself over the edges.
“Oh, come on,” I cajoled, as we walked down a dark alley that stunk like human urine and recycled grease from the vents of the Chinese deli. There was also the sweet, slightly spicy scent of gingerbread undercutting it all; this was part of a Madhura’s feeding ground. That was comforting. I hadn’t been aware that we had any Madhura left in the city. Things couldn’t be that bad if they hadn’t all fled.
Dominic’s eyes moved constantly as we walked, darting from side to side as he took in the alley walls around us. He wrinkled his nose when the stink first became apparent, but he hadn’t said a word about the Madhura. Lack of practical experience was definitely not an asset for new Covenant field agents. “I said no. Gravity is not a toy.”
“It’s not like I’m asking you to let me cast some sort of flight spell on you.” He gave me a sharp look. I raised my hands. “I didn’t say I
“Again, no. You may take pleasure in taunting the laws of physics, but I prefer to save my brushes with death for times when they’re actually necessary.”
“Now you sound like my father.”
Dominic snorted. “God forbid.”
I stopped where I was, giving him a narrow-eyed look. “Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”
Dominic turned to face me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you really want to have that conversation here and now, when I may be the only chance you have of finding this creature before it does real damage to your precious city?”
“Yeah, I think I do. What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
“Only that no respectable member of the Covenant wishes to be told he sounds like a traitor.”
“Uh, first, mister, my father’s not a traitor. He never belonged to your stupid Covenant. None of us did. If you want traitors, you’ll have to go back at least two generations, and if you ask the mice, they weren’t traitors even then.”
Dominic blinked, looking nonplussed. “Ask the what?”
I was just getting warmed up. “Plus, what makes you God’s gift to cryptozoology? Why are you my only shot at finding something that may ‘only’ be the size of a blue whale? I’m a Price, but I’m not an idiot. I’m pretty sure I can find something that big without your help. All you’re doing is keeping me off the rooftops, scaring the local cryptids, and slowing me down.”
“And what is it that you think you can do for
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes!”
I was having a heated argument, verging on a shouting match, in a deserted alley with a member of the Covenant of St. George who had seen me get dressed, and thus knew where all of my weapons were located. I’d been monitoring escape routes the whole time, and the prospects were pretty bleak; if he didn’t have anything ranged, I might be able to make it to the dumpster and use that to boost myself to the exhaust vents from the deli. After that, I’d have to improvise.
Dominic stepped closer, sensing victory in my hesitation. His chin was slightly raised, giving me an excellent view of his arrogant, irritating features. My chest tightened as my already sped-up pulse kicked into overdrive. I was essentially cornered. I could flee, or I could fight … and if there’s one thing I’ve spent my life learning, it’s that there’s always more than one way to wage a war.
“Try doing
Kissing a man is a lot like dancing the tango: somebody leads and somebody follows, and the traditional form says it’s the man who controls the dance. I’ve never been one to stick to tradition when it isn’t essential. And that turned out to be a good thing, because the kiss was, well … I’ve had better. Maybe because I wasn’t sure, from the way Dominic was kissing me back, that he’d ever had anything at all.
I’ve had a lot of practice at dancing with amateurs. I kissed him with more urgency, waiting for his instincts to kick in and remind him of the steps his hindbrain almost certainly knew. There was a moment of puzzled hesitation on Dominic’s part, like he didn’t quite understand what I was doing. Then his arms were around me, crushing me against his chest and surrounding me with the warm, masculine scents of leather and clean sweat. There’s nothing sweeter than the smell of a man who likes to keep himself clean and has managed to run himself into a lather. It means somebody’s been doing something physical, and it means something else physical might be on the table. I felt my body responding and pressed myself harder against him. The buckle of my holster bit into my belly hard enough to leave a bruise. He’d have a matching one, if the angle of our bodies was any indication. I had more important things on my mind.
He kissed with an urgency that was entirely out of keeping with his businesslike demeanor, possibly because he wasn’t getting kissed nearly often enough. The muscles in his torso were as hard as I’d expected them to be. That wasn’t all that was hard—if there’d been any question about how enthusiastic he was about returning my advances, it was answered by the feeling of him pushing up against my thigh.
The answer changed as he abruptly pushed me away, hard enough to send me staggering into the alley wall. “Hey—” I protested.
“What was the meaning of that?!” He glared at me, cheeks darkening as some of the blood began returning to his head. Pity. I’d liked it better when it was busy with certain other parts of his anatomy.
“You said there was nothing you could do with me that you couldn’t do by yourself.” I was cranky enough over being shoved away that I decided to twist the knife, and blew him a mocking kiss. “If you can do that by yourself, you should look into getting a place with the circus.”
“You are an insolent, irresponsible, immature little bitch!”
