Waking the Dragon by Juliette Cross

lines of his face, the grim set of his mouth, the taut strain of his shoulders underneath his long-sleeved T-shirt—all warned me he was as unyielding as a mountain. He tightened his white-knuckled fist till something cracked.
    “ I am in charge of this investigation.” Steady words laced with ice.
    A shiver rippled through me. “How so?”
    Lorian smirked. “Moira, weren’t you aware that Kol is Captain of the Morgon Guard?”
    The blood drained from my face. Kol was most definitely in charge. I squirmed under the weight of tension rippling off the hulking man. A look of satisfaction cracked his frozen expression. I swear I wanted to punch him.
    “And as Captain of the Morgon Guard, I won’t allow it. You have no business inserting yourself into this.” He turned his hard expression on Lorian, ignoring me once again. “There are other possibilities.”
    “Gaius has had some success then?” asked Lorian.
    “I haven’t received contact via comm since the second murder, but I did make one brief contact where he confirmed he was in.”
    “How did he make contact without a comm device?” I asked, unable to keep my questions to myself.
    Kol’s cold gaze slid over me, completely disregarding my question. “He won’t be able to make further contact without jeopardizing his cover for some time.”
    I interrupted their semi-private conversation. “So, what I gather you’re saying is that this Gaius is undercover for the Morgon Guard, trying to infiltrate the cult. That’s perfect. Then I’ll be in even less danger if I act as bait. Your mole can track my whereabouts straight into their lair and get information back to you. It’s foolproof.” I couldn’t keep the excitement from my voice. Lorian actually chuckled. Not Kol. It looked as if he were about to explode.
    “She’s quick,” Lorian mumbled to Sorcha.
    Sorcha set her drink on the table. “Told you.”
    Lorian tapped his index finger on the table, wild eyes narrowed on the horizon. After a moment, he shifted back in his seat, angling toward Kol. “It’s not such a bad idea. With your tracking abilities, the risk is little.”
    “See,” I said reassuringly, “the risk is little.”
    “But there is risk,” added Sorcha.
    I glared at her, then settled my gaze back on Kol, realizing I had to convince him if this was ever going to happen. I refused to let Captain Iceman freeze me out. “What if your guy isn’t able to gain their trust and get all the information you need?”
    “Then you’ll be in more danger.”
    “What I meant is that you’ll need another way in. I’m it! I’m your way in. I know this Borgus guy is the key. I know I can get him to take me and lead us to the other cult members.”
    Kol’s jaw clenched tight, his scar accentuating the hard planes of his face. Man, he sure did hate losing an argument. Silence stretched. The clouds thickened overhead. A wintry breeze gusted across the terrace, lifting the dark hair brushing his nape. Following the lines up his throat and over his cleft chin, I reached his eyes to find him staring at me. Crap. No, he caught me staring at him . I glanced down and brushed away a non-existent piece of lint from my jeans before returning my attention to Lorian.
    Lorian cleared his throat. “She has a point.”
    Kol gripped the edge of the table, straightening and flexing his arm, the tendons tight ropes up his forearm to his bicep. He rolled his shoulder back as if trying to loosen a crick or muscle pull. The wing above his strained shoulder opened briefly before settling back into place. The subtle movements of his body distracted me. He was so large and broad, formidable, yet so lithe and graceful at the same time. The man was a walking, flying paradox.
    I sighed, clasping my hands together on the table. “Look. I’m not saying we go barreling in there tomorrow or anything. I need to check out a few things first, and I need more information on the Larkosian cult as well as Devlin Wood, where