Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

for something sweet.”
    “I knew you had a sweet tooth,” he murmured, looking pleased.
    Turning toward the bank of cupboards, he flipped one open. A white plate made an appearance as he drew a drawer open. Utensils and plate in hand, he returned to the kitchen island. He cut a generous slice, slathered it with more icing than was legal before setting the entire sugar-high down in front of her.
    She took her first bite and moaned around the mouthful. “You are a culinary wizard.”
    He smiled. “And you are a very curious female.”
    Busted.
    Swallowing her second bite, Myst covered her tracks. “Don’t you think I should be? I have a life outside of all this, Daimler. One Bastian took from me. How will I learn about you…about them …if I don’t ask questions? If I’m going to live here—be happy here—I need to understand certain things…like how they operate, what’s off-limits, what’s not…don’t you think?”
    “Master Bastian warned me you are very clever.”
    “Oh, come on. Tell me a little bit about the house…about them. What can it hurt?”
    “Not a thing.” Spatula working double time, Daimler kept his focus on his work, making pretty swirls on the cake-top. “As long as you ask the male who is now responsible for you, my lady.”
    “Excuse me?” She stilled, a bite of carrot cake halfway to her mouth. The male responsible for her. That didn’t sound good. In fact, it sounded a lot like a master-slave mockup. One practiced in, oh, say…the flipping twelfth century. Well, fat chance. No way she would allow that. If Bastian went medieval and treated her like a second-class citizen, scales or no scales, she would skin him alive. “You mind explaining that?”
    Smart guy that he was, Daimler backpedaled, dropping the blame in his boss’s lap like a hot potato. “Master Bastian’s orders. If you wish to know something, you are to ask him.”
    Uh-huh, and Master Bastian could go to hell. “Well, he’s not here to answer any of my questions now, is he?”
    “I am sorry.” His gaze on the cake, the tips of Daimler’s pointy ears turned bright red. “I know the hours he is away from you will be taxing, but there are many activities to occupy your time. The game room holds many things of interest, and as our guest you may—”
    “Guest, my foot.”
    “But, my lady, if only—”
    “Forget it. You aren’t going to convince me, Daimler.” White-knuckling her fork, Myst locked eyes with the elf. Daimler was her best chance of uncovering Bastian’s plans. God knew Bastian would never tell her. He was too quick…too smart to show his hand before he played it. “What is he up to? Why am I really here?”
    “I do not know what you mean, my lady.”
    “Yes, you do.” Silver clinking against expensive china, her fork collided with the edge of her plate. “Don’t you think I have a right to know…to decide for myself?”
    “You must ask Master Bastian these questions, Myst,” he said, his tone so quiet she barely heard him. With a sigh, his gaze returned to hers. Myst shivered, seeing the terrible sorrow in his eyes. “Please, my lady. It is not my place to tell you.”
    His sadness spooked her. Warned her. Made her want to run.
    Dear God, what did Bastian intend to do to her? Panic closed her throat as an awful thought crossed her mind. She wasn’t getting out of Black Diamond…ever. Not unless she made it happen. And promise or no promise, she needed to do it now…before Bastian got his gorgeous self back home. Before his charming, fast-talking ways made her agree to some other stupidity.
    He could do it, too…make her want to stay with him. Convince her to give up everything she’d worked so hard to accomplish. And she knew exactly how he’d do it.
    Gregor.
    He’d use the baby to manipulate her into agreeing to more time…just enough to snare her, making it impossible for her to get away.
    Myst shook her head. She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t give Bastian the chance to sucker her in. Once he got hold of her, she knew he’d chew her up and spit her out.
    Guaranteed.
    Regardless of his seeming concern and affection, she wasn’t one of his kind. That had come across loud and clear while she argued with him about Gregor’s name. Which made her disposable, didn’t it? A plaything with the added bonus of an expiration date when he got tired of having her around.
    Holy crap. She needed to leave. Right now.
    Feigning a calmness she didn’t feel, Myst