Page 110 of Dhampira

Grigory barked, then raced toward the platform. Halfway to Lorcan and me, he unraveled.

My jaw dropped, disbelief making me take a step back. Lorcan caught my arm.

Hold still. He won’t hurt you.

Grigory’s body flowed apart like a snake, his measuring tape fur wriggling into a long ribbon that zipped through the air and circled my hips.

Iggleboddle wandered to one of the tables and picked up a quill. “Hmph. Larger than I thought.”

My temper spiked as he scribbled on a piece of parchment.

Lorcan met my gaze in the mirror. He’s a Boddle. They’re all assholes. And yes, they’re all named Boddle. The confusion at the post office must be mind-boggling.

I looked at Iggleboddle.

Mind-boddling, Lorcan added in my head.

Laughter burst from me before I could stop it.

Grigory stopped, his sinuous body wrapped halfway around my shoulders. Iggleboddle jerked his head up.

“Is something funny?”

Infectious laughter bubbled in my throat. Knowing I couldn’t laugh only made it worse. As my shoulders shook and my eyes started to water, Lorcan looked at Iggleboddle.

“The princess skipped breakfast,” he said. “She’s feeling a little faint.”

Iggleboddle narrowed his eyes, suspicion in his gaze. Then he grunted and returned to his parchment. “Keep going, Grigory.”

The rest of the measurements passed without incident. Grigory gave no reaction when he stretched across Lorcan’s back, touching one end and then the other to Lorcan’s scarred shoulders.

“The red wool,” Iggleboddle said after several minutes, and Grigory re-formed into a dog and raced for the shelves.

“No,” Lorcan said, his deep voice carrying. Grigory slid to a halt. Around the workroom, needles stopped. The scissors paused mid-snip.

Iggleboddle frowned. “The red is for—”

“I know what it’s for,” Lorcan said, pinning the diminutive man with a stare. “And I’ll wear my own robe. You can dress me in whatever you wish. You can put me in a crown or a dunce cap for all I care, but the robe is nonnegotiable.”

Grigory whined, tucking several of his tape measures between his legs.

Slowly Iggleboddle inclined his head. “As you wish.”

“I do,” Lorcan said. “Now, if you’re finished, I’ll see the princess back to her chamber.”

He helped me dress, his fingers brushing my back as he tightened my laces.

“Clothes will be ready later today,” Iggleboddle grumbled without looking up from his table. Grigory plopped at his feet and rested his chin on his paws.

Lorcan offered me his arm, his voice like a river in my head. Let’s get out of here.

Lorcan didn’t speak in my head again as we moved through the Drakhold. I was so busy contemplating his scars that I didn’t realize we were going in the wrong direction until he steered us toward a pair of glossy black doors.

“I need a book,” he said out loud, then entered Vander’s study without knocking. I got a glimpse of hobflies and an empty desk before Lorcan pulled me into the corner and said, “Zid.”

Blue light zipped around us. Lorcan rested a hand on the shelf behind me, trapping me against the bookcase.

“You saw my scars,” he rasped, his eyes intense and searching.