Page 34 of Red Dragon’s Flame

“If he scares Michelangela, then no.”

“Nothing scares Michelangela. But nobody wants to get on Emon’s bad side.”

Great. She just hoped the Allohim would cooperate by not attacking his kingdom. That would definitely get on his bad side.

Who was she kidding? She didn’t know how to act around a king. She didn’t know how to act around anybody. She’d probably get on his bad side all by herself.

They walked through absolutely miles of stone corridors, accompanied by Brock, ending in a big atrium with desks scattered around it. “There’s my office,” Mikah said, pointing to an open doorway on her left. He headed to the right, though, entering a large room with heavy carved furniture, looking practically medieval except for the desk computer and the modern rolling chairs around the massive conference table.

Inside was the most terrifying man Devon had ever met—King Emon, the Darkwing Dragon. He was big, even bigger than Mikah, dressed mainly in black leather with wavy dark hair down past his collar, and bright green eyes.

His presence filled the room and sucked all the air out. Strong and dominant—but with more than a hint of instability, like those old kings you read about who interbred too much and went crazy.

Or was that the ones with syphilis?

Either way, this was not a man to be messed with. He could—and probably would—reach out and squash you like a bug.

Devon moved a little closer to Mikah, who put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and got her a chair.

It wasn’t until she was sitting down that she managed to register the rest of the people in the room. There was a pretty woman with long blond hair who Mikah introduced as King Emon’s mate, Trish. She seemed nice but had a scary edge to her, too.

And then there was Zakerek, another red dragon like Mikah. They seemed to be good friends, but he was big and scary too—except for the orange cat draped over his shoulder, purring madly as he scratched under its chin.

When everyone was seated, Emon turned that bright, intense gaze on Devon, who immediately felt like a beetle pinned to a board.

There were no words of greeting. He dove right in with an abruptness worthy of Devon herself.

“I understand you were attacked tonight in your lair—”

Lair? That was one way of putting it, she guessed.

“—and Mikah has told me what he found there. He also told me about the subsequent attacks on the rooftop of that building, and on the roof of the penthouse, indicating that the creatures are able to follow or track you in some way.”

“Maybe Mikah just sucks at evading surveillance,” Zakerek said, rubbing the cat’s ears. It nuzzled his face. Mikah gave him the finger.

“That’s one thing we need to determine,” Emon said. “Whether they are able to track you, how, and from how far away. But first I need to know what these things are. I’ve never seen anything like them before.”

Seen? “You didn’t see them,” she blurted out.

Emon raised his eyebrows. “Mikah put pictures of them in my mind.” She stared uncomprehendingly, and Emon explained, “Dragons are telepathic. We can speak to each other and to our dragons in our minds, and to others—if we choose.”

Sorry, forgot to tell you, came Mikah’s voice. In her head, not in her ears. Devon jumped, and turned to stare at him.

“Was that you or your dragon?”

It was me.

“Where’s your dragon, then?” She frowned. “Where do you people keep them?”

said another voice, deep and harsh, like rocks grating together.

“That’s the dragon,” Mikah said out loud.

She whispered back, “I think I pissed him off.”

The dragon said,

Devon snort-laughed again, and put her hand over her mouth.