Free Forbidden Embers by Tessa Adams

was friendly and almost harmless. “I’m finding a lot out here to keep both me and my beast occupied.”
    “Logan ...”
    “All right, all right.” He backed off a little, but strangely his retreat didn’t make it any easier for her to breathe. Not when it gave her such a good view of his tantalizing tattoos. “I’m just passing through on my way up to Canada. I have some friends up there I want to visit.”
    “Canada?” she asked, surprised. “There’s only one clan up there. The—”
    “Nightfires. I know.”
    “And you actually have friends in that clan?” She didn’t mean to look skeptical, but the dragons in question were notoriously close ranked—and so suspicious they made Julian look like the most inclusive guy on the planet.
    He didn’t take offense at her skepticism. Instead, he just shrugged. “I have friends everywhere.”
    “Really? What clan are you from?”
    “I’m from the Flamedancers. They’re in Ireland.”
    “Oh, right.” She relaxed a little at the name of the familiar clan. “That’s where the accent comes from.”
    “What accent?” He looked startled.
    “You’ve slipped into an accent twice since we’ve been talking. It’s subtle, so I had a hard time placing it, but of course it’s Gaelic.”
    “You must be mistaken. I haven’t had an accent in more than two hundred years.”
    She was a little surprised at his obvious discomfort. “It’s no big deal. I kind of like it. The words roll off your tongue so beautifully.”
    “That’s not the point—” He cut himself off, but it was obvious that her casual words had upset him, though she didn’t know why.
    Seeking a way to learn more about this dragon who intrigued her on every level, she rested her hand on his forearm, waiting for him to look at her. “Why does the idea bother you so much? There’s nothing wrong with people being able to identify you by clan.”
    “They’re not my clan!”
    “I thought you just said—”
    “I said I was from Ireland, and I am. But I haven’t been back in nearly three hundred years and don’t plan on returning anytime soon.”
    “Oh. But if you’re no longer a member of the Flamedancers, then you must be . . . I mean, are you a . . .” She hesitated, not wanting to use the insulting term.
    He didn’t seem to be having the same problem, as he said roughly, “Yeah. I’m rogue.”
    Now she knew that she should run, that she should get away from him any way she could. There was a reason calling someone a rogue was an insult in the dragon community. Despite popular fairy-tale representations, dragons were a social species by nature, and very few ever chose to leave the protection of their clans. It was dangerous, even in the twenty-first century, to be without family at your back. Which meant that most rogue dragons were either extremely antisocial or had been banished from their clan for committing a terrible offense.
    And since Logan didn’t seem the least bit antisocial . . .
    “You don’t have to look like that, you know. I haven’t kicked a puppy in at least a decade.”
    Mortified that her thoughts were so plainly discerned, Cecily suddenly didn’t know where to look. It didn’t seem right to look him in the eye when she was thinking so badly of him, but at the same time it seemed ridiculous to pretend an interest in the landscape that she was far from feeling.
    In the end, she settled for staring at her fingernails. At least they distracted her for a second as she wondered absently how long it had been since she’d been to the salon. Too long, judging from the jagged edges of her nails and the peeling polish.
    “You can look at me, you know. I didn’t say that to embarrass you.”
    Her eyes shot to his before she could think better of it. “Yes, you did.”
    “So you can give as good as you get. I wondered.” He inclined his head. “You’re right. I was hoping to embarrass you.”
    She waited, but he didn’t say anything more. “And?” She finally