A sharp click, then another, and the magazine dropped to the floor. “Is there a round in the chamber, Ruby?” his voice rasped close to her ear. “I don’t want to hurt your wrist, but I will if you don’t answer me.”
“No round.”
He flicked the safety anyway. “Then I suggest you release the weapon, and we’ll continue this conversation in a more civilized fashion.”
The gun fell from her hand, thudding on the floor. He took the phone from her other hand and disconnected, then set it on the desk. Finally, he released her. She moved as far from him as she could, rubbing her wrist.
He casually leaned back against his desk. “What exactly did Moncrief tell you about me?” Cyntag had a deliberate way of speaking, properly enunciating each word.
“I only know your name because Mon said it as he was dying.”
That seemed to surprise him. “You know nothing about me?”
You’re the Dragon Prince. Yeah, that would sound logical. Not that anything about this was logical. “I heard the message you left him. The police have it, by the way.” She glanced at her wrist, even though she wore no watch. “They’ll be here any time to question you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, hopefully buying her bluff. “What did you tell them about the orb?”
“Everything.”
Worry tensed the corners of his mouth. “The regular police?”
“Of course, what other—oh, I’m sure they contacted the FBI, the ATF…if an agency has initials, they’re involved. They—”
“Describe the orb.” Still pretending he knew nothing about it, huh? “It set the house on fire?”
“Yes, and how might you know that?”
His nostrils flared. “I smell the smoke on you. Tell me what happened.”
She intended to give him a cursory description and had to hand it to him, like an investigator, he extracted every detail from her. He even looked angry when she talked about how it blocked her escape.
“You must have been terrified.” Was he gloating?
“I was too busy trying to save my ass to be terrified.”
“Nobody saw it but you, right?”
“No, it hid when they arrived and”—she glanced toward the door—“someone should be here by now. The investigator warned me not to come on my own, but I wanted to talk to you first. Tell me why you killed him. Off the record.”
He didn’t look as though he were buying her bluff one iota. He walked to the window, placing his hands on the glass and letting out a long, frustrated breath. Instantly, fog steamed around the perimeter of his palms and long fingers. “You did not tell the police about the orb because they would think you were crazy. You’re smarter than that.”
She inched toward the door.
“You may think you’re crazy.” He shook his head. “Old bastard wouldn’t listen to me. Thought he was invincible. When I saw that he called, I hoped he’d come to his senses, but he never called back.”
She reached for the door handle, and suddenly Cyntag stood there, his hand tight over hers.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“How…how did you do that? I didn’t even see you move.” She tried to kick him in the groin. Another dumb idea, considering what he did for a living.
He didn’t hurt her, not much anyway. He did, however, pin her against the door, his thigh pressing the offending leg tight. His hands gripped her wrists and held them at her hips. “That is not a wise thing to do.”
Panic, and something she couldn’t name, fluttered through her at the feel of so much man and heat so close to her. She coaxed her bravado from where it had scurried and lifted her chin. “Afraid I’ll hurt you?”
“Once my instincts are triggered, it’s hard to stop. I’m sure I’ll hurt you. As of right now, I do not wish to do that. That may change as days go by.”
“Days?” Fear coiled around her chest. “What are you going to do, keep me…hostage?”
He let her question hang for an agonizing moment, as though he were considering it. God, had she given him ideas? He said, “Not entirely.” That did not sound good, but before she could get too freaked out about it, he continued. “Your uncle and I did not share a warm and loving opinion of each other, but I didn’t kill him. Do you know why I would not harm one hair on his head?”
She wanted to believe that the guy whose hard, muscular body pinned hers against the wall and who could no doubt break her neck with a flick of his fingers hadn’t killed her uncle. “I’ll play your silly game. Why didn’t you kill him?”
He gave her a chastising look. “Because his death puts you in danger, and I am your sworn protector. Moncrief had your best interest at heart, but I told him it was a bad idea to try thwarting nature. And fate. I have gone on with my life and hoped he made the right decision. But if he’s dead, I am now saddled with a neophyte who has no idea the danger that stalks her, the world into which she was born, or her own powers. So believe me when I say, I would not wish death on him.”
He stepped back enough so she could escape from the heat of his body. Except her knees buckled, and she had to lean against the door for support.
She stared at him. “Do you know how friggin’ crazy that just sounded?”
He shook his head and looked up to the ceiling. “So much to learn. So little time to do it. Such a buffoon.”
“You’re calling me a buffoon?” And who used that word, anyway?
“That remains to be seen. I meant your uncle. He left us in quite the mess.”
This conversation wasn’t going in any direction she could follow. “It’s been lovely, but I need to scream now. I mean, go now.” She reached for the door handle, and he closed his hand over her wrist in a firm grip.
Which again put him in close proximity. “The orb that killed Moncrief, you saw its power?” His voice was soft and deadly.
“You’re threatening me?”
“Enlightening you. You put a gun to my chest. If I could make an orb, wouldn’t I have used it against you then?”
Well…yeah.
He continued. “And, in fact, I’ve had you under my physical control twice. I could crack your neck like this.” He snapped his fingers.
Hadn’t she thought the same thing?
“And I did not. We need to find out who did kill Moncrief though, because he or she may well be after you, too.”
Ruby tried to pull away but he maintained his hold over her hand. His black-and-blue dragon stared at her, almost as mesmerizing as the man himself. She dragged her gaze to his. “Why would someone want to hurt me? Obviously Mon was involved in something dangerous, but that has nothing to do with me.”
“We don’t know why Moncrief was killed. At the least, you’re a witness. Reason enough to make sure you don’t blab your mouth about killer orbs.”
She could swear the dragon blinked. That Cyntag had the tattoo, the dragon decorations, and that he looked like Mon’s Dragon Prince was a bizarre coincidence. But no less bizarre than the rest of this encounter.
Cyntag released her and leaned against the door so that it would be impossible to open it wide enough to slip out. Okay, let’s not freak about being trapped in here with the crazy dude.
He assessed her with his dark gaze and then skimmed his hands down her shoulders and arms like he would with, say, one of his students. The action held no sensuality, no sense of impropriety, and yet, his hands left a heated imprint on her skin.
“At least you’re in good shape. That will help.” He nodded to the gun on the floor. “You came to take me down for killing your uncle. Because he uttered my name on his dying breath.” Amusement glittered in his eyes. “You, a mere girl, would take me down.”