Free Hidden Dragons by Emma Holly Page A

blurted.
    “I’m fine,” he said politely. “Is there somewhere we could sit and talk?”
    For a moment, she couldn’t remember the location of a single room in her gran’s penthouse.
    “In here,” she said, once her brain recovered from its stall. Rick preceded her through the archway into the big living room, striding through the various furniture groupings to the long line of arched windows. She knew why they’d drawn him. They overlooked Fifth Avenue and the Ramble in Resurrection’s version of Central Park. Down below, leaves glowed with bright fall colors, the winding paths curving in and out of sight between the treetops.
    “Wow,” Rick said, leaning into the deep embrasure. The walls of this room were stone. That and the Gothic tracery on the windows made the space castle-like. Rick looked oddly right in the setting, despite his modern clothes. But cops were sort of like knights, she supposed.
    “Gran liked her views,” she said.
    The sill was wide enough to perch on. Turning back to face her, Rick rested his hips on it. His eyes held hers, warming her deep inside. To her embarrassment, a spark of faerie glitter leaped off her hand. Hoping he hadn’t seen, Cassie shoved it in the pocket of her Juiced Couture sweat jacket. For adults, faerie dust was a mild aphrodisiac. She didn’t want Rick thinking she was trying to seduce him.
    “About the case,” he said, one wide shoulder braced on the window’s glass. Sunshine lit his smooth olive skin. As if reluctant to continue, he cleared his throat. “What do you know about dragons?”
    The question took her by surprise. “Dragons? Nothing especially.”
    “Nothing.” He didn’t sound like he believed her.
    “I know what everyone else does of course. Mini-Dragons to the Rescue and all that. I assume that’s not what you’re here to ask.”
    “Your dad is a pureblood.”
    “Yes,” she agreed slowly. If he wanted her to share privileged information about her father’s people, this could get awkward.
    “Didn’t he tell you stories about the original race? The ancient dragons who sailed the sky like ships?”
    She smiled. She couldn’t help it. The way he put it was poetic. She seemed to have embarrassed him. Color washed onto his cheekbones.
    “I’ve heard those stories,” she said, pushing back her amusement, “but not from my father. He read me human books when I was a kid. He said he liked them better. He didn’t talk much about the Old Country.”
    Rick was listening with more attention than she understood. “And you didn’t think that was strange?”
    She thought lots of things were strange, including the fact that in the last five minutes she’d exchanged more words with her long-ago secret crush than in all four years at high school.
    “Faeries are private people. I assumed my father’s memories of where he came from weren’t sunny. If you think I’m some sort of expert, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint. You might try the Dragonati. They claim their kind descends from the ancient ones.”
    Dragonati were eight-foot-tall bipedal talking lizards. They looked a bit like dragons, though opinions differed as to whether the species were related. For that matter, opinions differed on whether ancient dragons existed. Cass was inclined to believe, but a lot of residents of the Pocket dismissed them as legends.
    Rick rubbed the back of one finger across very kissable full lips. “I’m not sure the Dragonati can be relied on to be objective.”
    The sun that struck the side of his face turned his dark lashes gold. He had great bone structure: not too pretty, not too rough, but a perfect blend of both. Cass struggled to keep her thoughts on track.
    “I don’t understand,” she said. “What exactly are you hoping I can tell you?”
    Rick let out a quiet sigh and dug in his pants pocket. When he’d sat, the bottom of his buttoned jacket had parted. His jeans weren’t tight, but the denim displayed the same tantalizing fade marks that