Page 66 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

"I really do. I'm not asking you to say it back, Margot. I only needed you to know that none of this was a service to me and none of it was something I gave to everyone else. It was only you."

Her breath leaves her slowly. "I can't say it back yet."

"You don't have to." My thumb moves once over her knuckles. "If you ever do, I want it because you mean it, not because my dragon got bossy."

Something in her face eases.

"I'm still trying to understand it myself," she says. "I don't want to walk back into the mansion and have everything go back to normal because we had one conversation and you brought me flowers."

"Neither do I. In fact, I don't think there is a normal to go back to."

"I don't want you giving something up because of me."

"You're not making me give anything up, I'll stay involved with the house in other ways. I built that place with the others, Margot. I'm not abandoning it." I squeeze her fingers once. "I had already made that decision before you knew how I felt. Whatever happens between us, I'm not going back to work that no longer feels right simply because it used to."

She studies me for a long moment, then nods.

We sit like that for a while, her hand still in mine and the pressed peonies across her lap. It is remarkably uncomfortable to have no plan, no structure and no clear understanding of what comes next.

I suspect that may be good for me.

Eventually, I glance at the time and reluctantly release her hand. "I should let you sleep."

Margot walks me the few steps to the door, still carrying the flowers. I put on my coat and reach for the handle before remembering the one thing I haven't said.

"There is something I'd like you to see one day, if you decide you want to."

She looks at me. "What?"

"My rooms at the house. My actual rooms, not the session spaces."

Understanding comes slowly. "Your nest?"

"No client has ever been inside."

Her gaze stays on mine for a moment before she looks down at the peonies in her hands. "I'd like to see it. Just not tonight."

"Then I'll show you when you're ready."

She nods, and that is enough.

I turn toward the door, but Margot catches my forearm before I can open it.

The scales rise beneath her fingers almost immediately, bronze spreading over my skin with enthusiasm. She watches them appear, then traces one of the ridges with the tip of her finger.

"Does it hurt when they do that?"

"No. Mostly it's inconvenient."

Her thumb passes over another scale. "They're beautiful."

I cover her hand with mine for a moment, then make myself let go.

"Goodnight, Angel."

The name brings a softness to her face that I have missed more than I care to examine.

"Goodnight, Soren."