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I know, I’m a wuss. But they were cranky, and if I learned anything from reading The Hobbit, it was not to fuck with a cranky dragon.
“I need to visit my brother,” I told Miles, and he snorted. “I need to see him before the dragons get too crazy.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” Miles assured me frankly.
I straightened. “What do you mean?”
“They’re not going to let you go anywhere, let alone a place where you can be more easily discovered. All it would take is for someone in Seraphus’ cult to make the connection, or for Seraphus himself to get a whiff of you. Apparently, your scent is quite strong.”
I hated it when they talked about my smell. They were giving me a complex.
“Well, he’s my brother, and he’s not sounding well, and I have a million questions to ask him. The dragons downstairs don’t want me talking over the phone about anything exciting because they’re being paranoid now, but it doesn’t matter! I can’t ask this shit over the phone, Miles.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like ‘Hey, were mom and dad in a cult, by any chance?’ or ‘Hey, did Dad, perchance, let a crazy monster fuck a baby into mom about twenty-two years ago? Remember anything about that?”
Miles looked at me, frowning. “You’re right,” he admitted flatly. “Those aren’t really over-the-phone questions…” He looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shrugged. “You’re never gonna talk Caspian or Murtagh into that right now. They’re spiraling.”
I shook my head, less than moved by the dragons’ plight. I hadn’t asked them to do me any favors. “So is my brother, man. He’s got cancer.”
“People survive cancer,” Miles assured me.
“Miles, this is my family.”
He shrugged. “Ask the guys, then. Maybe they’ll take you to go see him.”
“Do you think they will?” I asked, suddenly feeling absolutely certain of their answer.
“No.” At least he was honest.
I went downstairs to the men anyway, but I didn’t get around to asking them. They wanted to show off the tunnels they had made like the proud puppies they were. It looked interesting—they had been burning sand into glass somehow, and fortifying it that way. How, I didn’t want to know. Seemed like a lot of work, and they looked too tired to be asked favors of, so I decided not to. I was one-hundred percent sure that they would look at me like I’d asked for a trip to the moon.
So I loftily said instead, “I miss my brother. Maybe we could have him over?”
“Eventually,” Murtagh grunted, then turned back into the tunnel, seeming to be anxious to get back to work again.
“Darling, it’s important that you stay as far away from your brother as possible. You are a hot potato,” Caspian assured me crisply.
“I didn’t ask to be a hot potato!” I cried, gesturing to the stupid tunnel next to us. I refused to be grateful for it. “You can’t just lock me up here.”
“My mother hardly ever left the cave once she was taken as my fathers’ mate, and she was safer for it!” Caspian assured me very high-handedly.
I did not like that at all.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I getting in the way of your dreams of conjugal bliss?” I snipped.
He looked at me wearily. “In so many ways.” He looked me up and down, and I saw a flash of desire cross his face, but he didn’t move on it. That was probably because he was exhausted.
I flipped him off.
“Do we need to see to you?” Murtagh asked, and I had a feeling he didn’t mean sex. I wasn’t that lucky.
“No,” I assured bitterly.
“Then you have your answer. Upstairs with you,” he demanded, pointing at the ceiling.
“Fine.” Oh, I was going to go upstairs.
