Waking the Dragon by Juliette Cross Page B

of the terrace, watching other Morgons in flight going to and from work. A white-winged Morgon of the Icewing clan stepped from his balcony across the way, alighting into the air with a grace and beauty I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to.
    I glanced back to find Sorcha smirking at me with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “What?”
    “Ohhh, nothing.” She sipped her second—or was it her third?—mimosa.
    “Whatever you’re thinking, just stop it.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” she sassed. “Now, you just run along and go play, I mean, go investigate with your partner.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for breakfast.” How did I ever get into this with that exasperating Morgon as a partner?
    Mid-morning traffic was light, but it still took me twenty minutes to arrive and find a parking spot near Carella’s. Kol stood in the shadow near its entrance, leaning with arms crossed against the brick facing, his wings tucked tight against his back. His eyes lingered on my car as I approached.
    “You are Moira Cade, aren’t you?” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “As in, the daughter of business tycoon, Pritchard Cade.”
    “What are you implying? Just spit it out.”
    “I’m curious what you did to make daddy disown you.”
    Ass. I crossed my arms. “What makes you think my father disowned me?”
    “He apparently cut you off financially for you to be driving that thing.”
    My ten-year-old economy sedan sat in a forlorn state at the side of the curb. Yes, she was dinged to hell and back, but she was mine. And Kol was seriously pissing me off, intruding in my private life.
    “My relationship with my father is none of your damn business.” I stepped more into his space, glaring up at him.
    He arched a dark brow, apparently unused to feminine aggression.
    “Look,” I said. “We may be stuck with each other for the duration of this investigation, but get one thing straight. I don’t take shit from any man. Not even a Morgon one who happens to be a foot taller than me.” I jabbed a finger in his chest, refusing to wince at how hard my finger bent back. Freaking slab of stone. “So keep your personal observations to yourself.”
    He actually smiled just a fraction, which only made my frown deepen. “Not a problem.” He swept an arm toward the salon entrance. “After you.”
    I walked ahead, then spun back around. “You know. It might be better if you stay out here.”
    He sneered. “Not happening.”
    “I’m not trying to withhold information or anything. It’s just that you’re kind of big and intimidating. It might be better if you stay outside.”
    “Am I now.” Not a question.
    “Pfft. To some people, Iceman. Not to me.”
    Oops. Didn’t mean to let that name slip. He moved into my space this time. I was suddenly rethinking whether I found him big and intimidating. I gulped dry air. “Relax. And just stay a little ways back. People respond well to me. Other than you, that is.”
    He tilted his head and cracked his neck. “Lead the way, Kittycat.”
    My mouth dropped. “ Excuse me.”
    “You heard me.” His voice was a low rumble, mere inches separating us.
    “Don’t call me that.”
    “Mmm. You sure enjoy judging others. Taciturn. Intimidating. Ice man. But you can’t handle how others see you.”
    I clenched my jaw tight.
    “Kittycat suits you. Sharp claws, watchful eyes, volatile when cornered.” He flicked my braid over my shoulder. I batted his hand away. His grin made me want to scream. “See what I mean?”
    Heat crawled up my cheeks. I was so pissed, but if I said a word, I’d only prove him right. I spun and marched to the salon door, shrugging off the sensation of seven feet of annoyance at my back, which was quite difficult.
    Crooning alternative music beat a slow rhythm through the salon of sleek metallic chairs and glass-top surfaces. The waiting area sported smooth black sofas and a mirror on every wall. I felt like I’d just walked inside a crystal ball. A pretty blonde stood