He was cocky. He knew she’d come to kill him and had to recognize that she didn’t need her knife. She could kill him with her bare hands if she wanted to. There was a way to strike from behind, to snap the victim’s neck, and leave him to a slow death.
Rania didn’t do it, though, so maybe his confidence was justified.
She looked and yearned instead.
“I know you could kill me, right where I stand,” Hadrian said easily, without looking back. “But I want to suggest that we make a deal.”
“Why should I make a deal with you?”
“Because you want your knife back, of course.” He cast her a glance and a smile that shook her to her toes. He nodded at the red string on her wrist. “I know she can compel anyone to act against their own will. I want to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
It was more than she might have given him and Rania knew it. One question seemed harmless enough. “Why were you cursed?”
“Because I willingly entered Fae, with Alasdair and two other Pyr, Rhys and Kristofer. She took us captive and—” he grimaced “—Alasdair and I had to dance.”
Rania felt a twinge of sympathy. She’d seen those victims forced to dance until it killed them. Their feet bled and they begged for mercy but the merry music never stopped.
Until they did, forever.
It was a punishment for a crime, though. They earned their sentence by charging into Fae uninvited. They were invaders. Maeve had to defend her domain and her people. The familiar justification flooded into her thoughts, even though it sounded a little less plausible when she knew the one who had earned the punishment.
Rania deliberately spoke with a harsh tone, refusing to feel sympathy for him or acknowledge any common ground. “You should be dead twice over then.”
Hadrian’s chuckle was unexpected. “Maybe I live a charmed life.”
“You must.”
He’d turned and was studying her, still smiling himself. The fire from the forge cast his powerful form in silhouette and the light of this firestorm illuminated his face. She saw a twinkle light in his eyes and wished they’d met under different circumstances.
That was crazy. There were no different circumstances, and there never would be.
“Are you going to tell me that the third time’s the charm?” He seemed to be amused by the possibility, not as fearful as he should have been.
The studio seemed much too small. Rania was raging with desire again, remembering the feel of his hands on her skin and the sure touch of his caress. She was thinking of the way he’d pleasured her and the way he kissed and found herself wanting another taste.
Instead, she shook her head and put out her hand. “Give me my knife and we can find out.”
Hadrian laughed. “Not a chance.” His eyes narrowed as he surveyed her. “You haven’t disappeared yet. Maybe you’re changing your mind about killing me.”
“Why would I do that?” Rania scoffed, knowing she should have cut him down already.
Would she be able to make the final strike? There was something intriguing about this dragon shifter, maybe the fact that he challenged her expectations and wasn’t afraid of her.
She liked him. That was as startling as it was troubling.
“Maybe you like me too much to kill me,” Hadrian suggested, as if he’d read her thoughts—again.
This time, Rania laughed although the sound was forced. “Maybe I just want my knife back.”
“Why that one?”
“Once I choose a knife, I like to use it.”
“Superstitious?”
“Following through on plans.”
He nodded. “You picked it because of the dragon?”
“It seemed like a good augury.”
“I’ve never seen such an ornate bichuwa.”
She was surprised that he knew the name of it and by the admiration in his tone. “It was made in India in the seventeenth century. It’s from Thanjavur.” Once again, she was talking too much.
“Formerly Tanjore,” he said. “I wondered.” His quick glance was piercing. “You collect knives?”
Rania nodded.
“I guess you always need one.”
“Not usually with the kiss of death, and not after tonight anyway.”
He chuckled. “Who inherits your collection?”
“No one. I’m not going to die.”
“Ever?” His gaze was piercing.
Rania shook her head.
“Is that a swan maiden thing or your thing?”
“It’s a Fae thing.”
He frowned and surveyed her, his gaze lingering on the lump of the ring beneath her shirt. “But you’re not Fae. Are you?”
Rania had no intention of explaining the details of her deal to him. He’d just argue with her. She extended her hand.
“Let’s make a deal instead,” he said easily, leaning against the table. “Give me a day and a night to satisfy the firestorm, then I’ll give your knife back. What do you say?”
“Sex doesn’t take that long.”
His grin was wicked. “Is that a challenge?”
Rania shook her head. “I want to finish this now.”
“You didn’t complete twelve assassinations overnight. What’s another day?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes,” she countered and he laughed.
“Not a chance. I’ve waited two hundred years for the firestorm. I intend to savor it.”
Savor it. Rania’s mouth went dry as she recalled how he’d savored her. “No,” she said flatly, guessing that if Hadrian made love to her for hours, she’d never be able to finish him off.
Maybe that was what he was counting on.
Rania folded her arms across her chest to keep from reaching out to touch him. “Besides, there’s probably a trick.”
He shook his head slowly, looking leonine and reliable. She instinctively wanted to trust him—and agree with him. “No trick. The firestorm is satisfied with sex, plain and simple, and the mate conceives the Pyr’s heir the first time they’re intimate.”
“What else?”
“Nothing else.”
“No deal.” She stretched out her hand for the knife.
Hadrian laughed. “So, you can kill me now? I don’t think so. You’ll have to pick another one.” His eyes twinkled. “Maybe I’ll start a collection of weapons you’ve been unable to use against me. We’ll have to decide what happens after we get through your entire collection.”
“You’re not that lucky,” she said. “No one is.”
“Did you get the bichuwa from a collector?”
“I was the collector.”
He tilted his head, studying her with a curiosity that seemed to echo her own. “What were you doing in Thanjavur?”
“What do you think?”
He held her gaze steadily for a long moment, then spoke softly. “Who did you kill there?”
“A djinn.” Rania frowned at the memory. “It took a while to stalk him.”
“Seeing that he could turn to a wisp of smoke.”
Rania shook her head. “This isn’t solving anything. You can give the knife to me or I can come back when you least expect me.”