Burn for Me (Hidden Legacy #1)

by Ilona Andrews

He was terrifying, and I wanted to run my hands down that chest and feel the hard ridges of his abs. I was some special kind of reckless.

“Mom?” Mother turned to Grandmother. “What?” “She’s going to lunch with her kidnapper!” “Take a picture for me,” Grandma said. “This family will put me into an early grave,” my mother growled.

“You dumped me on my doorstep. According to my mother, I looked half dead.” “Your mother exaggerates. A third dead at most.” I stared at him. Wow. Just wow.

Hearing his voice was like being caressed. Chains, I reminded myself. Basement. Psycho. Boundaries. Boundaries were good. “I thought about your offer.” “I’m aflutter with anticipation.” Psycho who likes to mock me. Even better.

“You have a strange look on your face,” he said. “I just realized I shouldn’t be in the same vehicle with you. In fact, I shouldn’t have called you in the first place, so I’m trying very hard to rewind time.” He grinned. I’ve amused the dragon. Whee.

“So the best way to fight you is to strip naked and attack?” His eyes flashed with a wicked light. “Yes. You should try it and see what happens.” Well, I did walk right into that one.

I am a polite, nonthreatening kind of dragon with excellent manners. Horns are hidden, tail is tucked away, fangs covered. I would never do anything cruel, like stab a man with a knife about ten times to get him to answer a question.

“Take your shirt off.” Now there’s something I never thought I’d say to the Scourge of Mexico.

I looked at the flowers, looked at his face, and shut the door. No, wait. I opened the door, took the carnations from him, shut the door, and locked it. There.

You know what? No: if he ever fell in love, it wouldn’t be great romantic devotion. It would be an exercise in frustration and lust, and at the end of it his significant other would strangle him.

“Nothing to say, oh Great One? Come on, Scourge of Mexico!” Adam called. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. I’m about to incinerate your ass.” Rogan glanced at him. “It’s your party. You’re wearing the tiara. Try to be a gracious host.” Adam’s face flushed. “Fuck you!” He stabbed his index finger in our direction. “Fuck you, man. Fuck both of you.” “Kids these days.” Mad Rogan shook his head. “No manners.”