Dark Heat: The Dark Kings Stories

by Donna Grant

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  Jane winced when she saw the state of her flat. She wished she’d spared a few minutes that morning and picked up. As it was, there was a small pile of laundry—with her panties—on the couch.

  Her empty milk glass from the night before was on the end table, and she hastily snatched it up and threw a pillow over her laundry as she walked past. Jane put the glass down by the sink, grateful that at least her kitchen was clean.

  “Why don’t you open the wine while I get out of these heels?” she asked.

  Banan gave a nod, and once Jane showed him where the opener was, she grabbed the laundry and headed into her small bedroom.

  Only after tossing the clean clothes on a chair did she sink onto the bed, wondering what had gotten into her, offering to cook for him. It was so unlike her to be so forward, and though she knew she’d inevitably do something klutzy or say something inane, she still wanted to get to know Banan.

  Which, again, was so at odds with her life normally.

  She wasn’t without her share of boyfriends, but she’d never felt truly comfortable around any of them. Not that Banan made her feel comfortable, exactly. Quite the opposite, really.

  Her body was in a constant state of jumbled nerves, her blood always pounding in her ears, but it was the heat, the unbelievable attraction that pulled her to him yet again.

  Even more odd, it seemed being around him appeared to … change her. Not that she could explain how. She was nervous, but a different nervous.

  Jane inwardly laughed. Those weren’t the right words, but it was true. She was a changed person around Banan. Someone who wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the way her body reacted to his.

  With a sigh, she rose and stripped out of her camel-colored shirtdress and heels, and then stopped in front of her closet. Did she go comfortable in yoga pants and her oversized sweatshirt that hung off her shoulder?

  Or did she go for the jeans and a black tee that had been a favorite of hers since she bought it?

  Jane opted for the jeans and tee. She ran her hands down the formfitting tee as she looked herself over in the mirror. A quick run of her fingers through her hair, and she walked from the room to discover Banan looking at the shelf of her family photos.

  He turned with a smile and handed her the glass of red wine he held. “Is this your mum?”

  “Yes,” she said after taking a drink. “That was taken during a trip to the coast one summer. It was a girls’ week.”

  Banan’s dark brows rose. “A girls’ week?”

  Jane padded into the kitchen and pulled out a large pot she filled with water. “Me, my mom, and three of my female cousins would try to take a trip like that as often as we could. It was girl bonding, as my mom called it.”

  “Interesting,” Banan said as he slid onto the stool at the bar and watched her. “Can I help?”

  “Nope. You talk while I cook.”

  Jane set the water to boil before she pulled out garlic, onion, and basil to cut up. She placed the cutting board on the counter as she faced Banan and began to chop.

  “How is it you love to cook?”

  She smiled as she thought of her family. “My uncle owned a restaurant in Seattle. He was the chef, and all the kids in the family worked there. It wasn’t always easy working for family, but I developed my love of cooking from him.”

  “What did you do there?”

  “I started as a waitress, but as you’ve seen, I have a habit of falling and running into things. For the sake of the glasses and dishes I kept breaking, my uncle moved me into the kitchen.”

  “And there were no more broken plates?”

  She chuckled. “Oh, there were a few. At first everyone was hesitant to put a knife in my hands, but it’s like I’m a regular person when I’m in the kitchen. I have very few falls or cuts. Something my parents have never understood. Everyone thought I might go to culinary school, and I almost did.”

  Banan took a drink of his wine and set it down. “What stopped you?”

  Jane shrugged, unwilling to delve into that part of her life. No one in London knew why she was there, and for the time being, that’s how she wanted it.

  “Ah. A secret,” he said.

  Her heart skipped a beat at his lopsided grin. She was caught in his gaze, trapped. Ensnared.

  But she wasn’t afraid. It felt almost natural to have Banan in her flat as she cooked for him.

  “Everyone has secrets.”

  His smile faded as he gave a single nod. “Nothing is more true than that, Jane.”

  She looked away and finished chopping the onions and garlic before she put them into a pan to sauté.

  “What are you making us?”

  She straightened after grabbing a can of crushed tomatoes and a box linguine from a bottom cabinet. “One of my uncle’s recipes, as well as one of my favorite dishes.”

  Banan couldn’t take his eyes off Jane. It wasn’t just because she looked good in her worn, faded jeans and black shirt, but he was transfixed with how she moved so fluidly in the kitchen. As if she’d been born to it.

  She sidestepped to the stove to cook, but angled herself so she didn’t have her back to him. Her wineglass was near, but she only sipped on it.

  “What happened today to make you need the wine?” he asked, pushed by a need to know the reason.

  There was a slight jerk of her hand, which was the only sign he’d hit upon a touchy subject.

  “It was just a bad day.”

  “Was it because of last night and the client?”

  She glanced at him, her smile easy as she said, “No. Apparently I wrote it down wrong. Mr. Arnold wasn’t at all happy, but then again, he never is with me.”

  “Is that what Richard Arnold said you did, wrote it down wrong?”

  Her response was a shrug of one shoulder.

  “Why do you stay at PureGems?”

  She dumped the pasta into the boiling water. “Most people don’t care for their bosses. I’m no different from thousands of other people.”

  “I suppose.”

  “What about you? Do you like your boss?”

  He swirled his wine in the glass, watching the dark liquid. He knew she spoke of his supposed boss at PureGems, but Banan referred to Con when he said, “Actually, I do.”

  “Interesting,” Jane said with a grin.

  He’d come to Jane for a reason, and the sooner he did what he was supposed to do, the sooner he and his brethren could get on with their mission. “There have been rumors around the company about Arnold. They say he isna a nice man.”

  “He can be rude,” she admitted, and then frowned.

  She didn’t like talking about people, that was obvious. But why would she stay loyal to someone like Arnold? Banan couldn’t piece it together. He tried another tactic.

  “The rumors I’m hearing is that he’s mixed up with something that could bring the company down.”

  Jane’s head lifted to look at him. “Do all drivers gossip about Arnold?”

  “There’s always talk. I’m just asking.”

  “Yes, but that’s a very particular question.”

  Damn. Banan was going to have to be careful around Jane. She was careful. But why? Was it because she was loyal or had something to hide? “Just something I heard that I thought was odd. It got me curious.”

  “And you think because I’m his secretary that I would know? Is that why you asked me to dinner?”

  “Nay. I asked you to dinner because I wanted to get to know you. I’m just making conversation. We work for the same company.”

  She pressed her lips together, and kept her gaze on the vegetables sautéing. “I’m sorry. I do this, Banan. I … I never say the right things.”

  “You did nothing wrong,” he assured her.

  He saw how tense she’d become since his question. She had just begun to relax in the kitchen, and he’d ruined it. But then the image of her frightened face as she left PureGems earlier flashed in
his mind.

  She didn’t trust him enough to talk about Arnold, maybe not because she was loyal. But maybe because she was scared. His time getting to know Jane was going to take longer than he realized.

  And somehow that pleased him.

  That should have sent him out the door to have Rhys replace him, but he didn’t want to share Jane with anyone. Especially not another Dragon King, and not when their magic to prevent them from falling for humans was disappearing.

  “Why do you drive for PureGems?”

  He met her inquiring gaze and realized she was asking more than what her words said. She wanted to know what had gone wrong in his life to that made him just a driver for a company.

  Banan came up with another lie quickly, one that would put him in a good light. And better earn her trust.

  “I’m no’ just a driver. I’m a bodyguard of sorts hired to look after things.”

  She stopped stirring the food and said, “Does Mr. Arnold need a bodyguard?”

  Banan shrugged and took a drink of wine. “I doona know. All I know is that I was hired by corporate to keep an eye on Arnold. I go where they tell me.”

  “Interesting,” she murmured, and looked back at the food. “Tell me what you did before coming to London.”

  Banan suddenly hated the lies, so he decided to add a healthy measure of truth to his answers. “I’m part of a large family.”

  Jane grinned as she got out two baguettes of bread and put them on a baking sheet to heat in the oven. “How large?”

  “Large,” he said. “So large that sometimes you need to get away for a bit.”

  “But you always go home?” she asked, and looked his way.

  “Always.” Partly because he wanted to, but also because he had to.

  It was part of who they were. They could venture away Dreagan for a month at a time, but they had to return or the magic holding the deadly silver dragons would no longer keep them sleeping, which would result in a war no one wanted. But Banan couldn’t tell her that.

  “How long will you stay in London?” she asked.

  “That depends on a number of things. I doona care for the city, so I doubt I’ll be staying too long.”

  She turned from putting the bread in the oven and placed her hands on the counter. “That’s too bad.”

  “Is it? Why?”

  She glanced at her hands. “I don’t have many friends, and no one I can cook for.”

  “Ah. So I’m just someone you want to feed?” he asked with a grin he couldn’t keep off his face.

  Jane nodded, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “It gives me the excuse to cook that I need.”

  “Is it a friend you need?” he asked, his smile gone as he realized the seriousness of his question.

  She turned to drain the pasta. “Everyone needs friends.”

  “Someone you can cook for?”

  She laughed, the sound sweet and erotic. “Definitely.”

  “Someone you can talk to about your bastard of a boss?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Someone you can share secrets with?”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “Would you share your secrets?”

  Banan rose from the barstool and walked around the counter to grab two plates from the cabinet. “I’ve never wanted to share my secrets.”

  It was the truth, but he didn’t tell her how he found himself wanting to share them with her.

  “Me either,” she said, and spooned the noodles into the plates before pouring the sauce over them.

  She handed him both plates, and then checked the bread. Banan got the forks and their wineglasses to place on the table. Then he watched as she took out the bread, cut it, and put it in a basket.

  Once she was seated beside him, he took her hand and looked deep into her rich brown eyes. “Thank you, Jane.”

  “For what?”

  “For this. The food, the conversation. All of it.”

  “You act as if you’ve never done this before.”

  He’d had women cook for him before, but he’d never yearned for one of them as he did Jane.

  And that was just the first of many differences he recognized.

  One of many that sent warning bells off in his mind that he continued to ignore.

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  Banan and Jane finished their meal and moved to the couch. Soon after, Jane turned off all the lights save the small lamp on the end table. Not that he minded. He kept her talking of her family and her childhood. He was enraptured by her descriptions of Seattle and her life there.

  There hadn’t been a time in his very long existence where he’d thought to ever care about anything so mundane as her Thanksgiving dinners or the party she and a friend had thrown for their high school graduation.

  Yet Banan wanted to know every detail. When it seemed as if she might stop talking, he asked her another question to keep her going.

  He found himself laughing at the exploits of her and her best friend sneaking out of her house. A few minutes later, as he listened to her story about the prom, he actually thought about flying to Washington and finding the bastard who had ruined her special night.

  She’d been enthusiastic to describe the dances they had in America, and though she chuckled as she spoke of her date, Banan could see the hurt she couldn’t quite hide in her eyes.

  Her eyes were her most expressive feature. Every emotion she felt could be seen in them.

  Even when she couldn’t stop yawning, and her lids grew drowsy, he kept her talking. Banan glanced at his watch to find it was well after one in the morning. He’d purposely kept Jane up until she fell asleep so he could search her house.

  He’d always been able to keep an open mind about people, but the more he learned of Jane, the more he hoped she wasn’t part of what was going on at PureGems.

  There had been a few times he tried to turn the conversation to Richard Arnold, but Jane had deftly turned it away with such ease, it always took a moment before Banan realized what had happened.

  He rose from his end of the couch and squatted beside her. Slowly, he extracted the wineglass from her fingers before any spilled and set it on the end table, and then switched off the lamp.

  Every instinct told him to hurry and begin to search her flat, but he couldn’t resist running the back of a finger down her cheek.

  For long minutes he simply stared at her, wondering how she might be involved with Arnold, if she was involved at all. Mostly he didn’t want her to be a part of it, which clouded his judgment.

  Banan rose and, as silent as a ghost, began to search her small flat. He started in her room, moved into the tiny bathroom, and then was back in the kitchen. With every area that he searched and found nothing, the more relief he felt.

  He softly closed a drawer and looked at the couch to find it empty. Banan’s gaze swiftly scanned the flat and found Jane at the window staring down at the street.

  “Jane?” he murmured.

  She didn’t turn around as she said, “I think something happened at work today.”

  “What do you mean?” He kept his voice low, like hers, as he slowly made his way to her.

  One of Jane’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I think I overheard something. It was Richard’s tone. When he spoke to me it … frightened me.”

  Banan wanted to find Richard Arnold and rip his heart out for making Jane feel afraid. Banan stepped around the couch and over Jane’s purse, but stopped short of going to her.

  “Tell me,” he urged. “What did you hear?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then how do you know it was something bad?”

  She jerked her chin toward the window. “Him.”

  In an instant, Banan was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. He spotted the man on the street as he gazed up at Jane’s window.

  Banan warred with himself about whether to confront the man or get Jane to safety first.

  “Why is he watching me?” she asked, and turne
d her face to Banan.

  He pulled her away from the window and turned her so that her back was against the wall. Her fresh, sweet scent filled his senses, making him struggle to keep his lust in control.

  “Tell me what happened.” When she didn’t respond, Banan tried another tactic. “I’m a bodyguard, remember? I can protect you.”

  Jane’s large, coffee brown eyes glanced at the window. “While you’re here. You won’t always be around, Banan.”

  “Let me help. Please. Tell me what happened yesterday.”

  She squeezed the bridge of her nose between two fingers and closed her eyes. “I was in Richard’s office, taking notes for a letter he wanted me to draft. His cell, I mean, mobile phone kept ringing, and he kept answering it.”

  Her hand dropped and she opened her eyes to look at him. “For each call, he spoke as if I wasn’t in the room. Normally, if it’s important, he tells me to leave. Otherwise, I must stay. It wasn’t until the last call that things changed.”

  “How so?”

  “He turned his chair around so that his back was to me before he ever even answered it.”

  Banan nodded. “So it was a private call. Why no’ ask you to leave?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug, and looked away. “He was acting very odd. Then he asked me to leave. He thought I was gone when he went back to his conversation. But I heard something, and as I was paying attention to his side of the conversation, I ran into a chair. I stayed there listening until he noticed me.”

  He frowned as her voice faded away. Banan smoothed a lock of hair away from her face. “Jane?”

  When her gaze turned back to him, he saw the trepidation in her dark depths.

  “His voice was low, almost a whisper,” Jane said, her own voice shaking. “But I know what I heard.”

  “Which was?” Banan pressed.

  “Dreagan and Sloan.” She leaned her head back against the wall. “I knew then that Richard was somehow involved with sending Sloan and Elena to that mountain. But why?”

  Fury welled inside Banan because he’d known Richard Arnold was involved. Having Jane say the words made him itch to find Arnold right then and pound the truth out of him.