Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1) by Jade Lee Read Free Book Online Page A

pokoti into her hand. "Please. Eat. You look hungry."
    "I'm always hungry," she groused, but she took the food nevertheless. He could tell she wanted to refuse him. She didn't trust his motives or his food, but she was clearly hungry. In fact, he was surprised he hadn't heard her grumbling stomach through the door.
    So while she gobbled down the pokoti, all the while watching him with wary eyes, he surveyed her surroundings, noting how very much they seemed to fit her. Tiny and spare, her room revealed no concession to comfort or leisure. She had a pallet, a washstand without adornment beyond a pitcher and a bowl, and a small, closed wardrobe, which presumably held all her worldly goods. What lighting there was came through a dirty window that looked out on the street below. A single chair sat beneath it, as if she sometimes climbed up on it to look out; but no other form of entertainment revealed itself.
    In short, like the woman, the room was compact, efficient, and gave absolutely nothing away. He narrowed his eyes, looking deeper into the shadows beneath her bed. Were those books? By the Father, there were dozens of books secreted away under her bed! How he itched to know what she read. He couldn't see the titles from here.
    He turned his attention back to her, watching her finish off the pokoti with amazing speed. Then he watched her flush with embarrassment as she suddenly stopped licking the sauce from her fingers before slowly lowering her hands.
    "I apologize," she said, her words somewhat stilted, as if she were forcing herself to act more politely than usual. "My manners are hideous. I... I did not eat last night. And after dancing..." She let her voice trail away even as she crossed to her washstand, carefully turning her back to him as she dropped her coin purse someplace he could not see.
    "Surely Talned knows he must feed his dancers," Kiril commented, not from any desire to know, merely a wish to keep her talking. "Does he not tell the kitchens to—"
    She released a sharp bark of laughter as she poured water into the bowl. "Talned knows we will eat all his profits if he is not careful. I do not fault him for his stinginess." She carefully wet a cloth to clean her face and hands. "Monik and I still manage to take a little here and there. Only last night..." Her words trailed away and he watched her bite her lip, no doubt startled that she was talking to him so easily.
    But then, that was exactly why he was being so charming: so she would talk easily with him. With that thought in mind, he leaned back against the door, purposely appearing as nonthreatening as possible.
    "Only last night," he finished for her, "you had not intended to dance. But you did. For me. And because of that you did not get any dinner."
    She did not deny his words, but focused on her toilette, each movement slow and careful. He knew she was thinking, but could not begin to guess what choices she pondered. So he continued babbling, trying to distract her from her wariness.
    "I am pleased, then, to repay my debt to you this morning. Or perhaps that wasn't enough. Are you still hungry? We could go out for more ..."
    She set aside her towel, still remaining tightly controlled as she shook her head. "You should go now," she said, her voice a low warning. "I thank you for the breakfast, but I cannot give you what you want. I will be no man's mistress, least of all yours."
    He pushed off of the door, but did not approach her. He had expected as much, and yet, still the thought irritated him. Did she think him so single-minded? "What if I told you I did not come here to make you my mistress?"
    She did not retreat but stood her ground, arching a single eyebrow at him to emphasize her disdain. "I would tell you that there is a scent a belly-horned man exudes, a kind of perfume that proclaims to all with noses exactly what interests him."
    He straightened, flushing slightly as she called his bluff. Yes, he was belly-horned, as she so crudely put it,