“Kick-ass?” I suggested when he hesitated. “Indicative of a strong woman who doesn’t need a man? Representative of the inner strength of women everywhere?”

“Sexy,” he said, then gave a mock yelp when I pinched his side. “Very kick-ass,” he amended. “Although I’d appreciate it if you took me with you for the next challenge.”

“Pfft,” I said, brushing that away as we went to find some lunch. “It’s just a lake of fire. We dragons are all over fire.”

“Famous last words,” he intoned as we headed off for the dining salon.

Fourteen

It wasn’t until later that evening that I asked Rowan a question that had been niggling at the back of my brain.

“I have something I want to ask you,” I said, entering the main part of our cabin where Rowan sat texting someone he said was learned in the ways of magic for ideas on an object he could cobble together before the ring was broken.

He looked up, but before I could say anything more, Mrs. P emerged from her room clad in a Greek goddess outfit, all long, white, floaty dress, gold braided girdle, and dark brown hair curled on top of her head in an elaborate Grecian coiffure. She looked to be in her early thirties now, and I figured at the rate she was growing younger, she’d hit puberty around midnight. The priestess collective trailed after her, each in what I thought of as club dresses—short skirts, tight bodices, and very high heels. Where did they pack all of those clothes?

“Not going to Samba Night?” Mrs. P asked as they all pranced past us, giggling and chatting excitedly. “They have a man giving lessons if you don’t know how to dance.”

Her eyes were almost entirely sapphire blue now, her face unlined, her flesh plump and smooth and radiating good health. As she glided past Rowan, she reached for the small notebook he had left at the edge of the table, but I tsked loudly at her. “Ahem. Not yours, Miss Lightfingers.”

She clicked her tongue and gave me a wide grin.

“And no, we don’t care to go to Samba Night. We have to spend our time trying to figure out how to save the world and still let you and your boyfriend escape his wife so you can live happily ever after.”

“Your loss,” she said, blithely ignoring the fact that we were sacrificing our time in order to work on the problem. “Perhaps the delicious Gabriel will want to samba with me. Won’t that make his mate furious? Too bad you’ll miss it. Ah well, happy sexing later, when you are done working.”

“He really does have marvelous buttocks,” Bunefer said to the others, her gaze on Rowan’s backside as they drifted past. “Makes one yearn for a quarter to do a little bouncing-off-of, doesn’t it?”

“I once knew a man who had three buttocks,” Gilly announced to the others, closing the door behind them before I could hear more.

“In some ways,” I said when the door closed behind her, “I’m going to miss Mrs. P and her gaggle of underwear models. And in other ways, I’m going to be incredibly glad to have her off my hands. Especially this younger, nubile version of her. I mean, it was bad enough when she was an old coot, because she was like a wacky grandma and no one took her flirting seriously. But now… now she’s gorgeous.”

“Only if you like that type,” Rowan said absently, making some notes in the notebook I had returned to him.

“I’d ask you what type you like, but you’d just be gallant and recite a list of qualities that applied to me. Are you getting any help from your magic dude?”

The corner of his delectable mouth quirked. “I never had a type to begin with, just so you know. And not a lot. Every suggestion he has is beyond what resources we have available in Duat.”

“Could you go out and get some stuff and bring it back?”

“No one can leave Duat until his or her soul is judged.”

“Oh, that’s right. Gilly said something about that. Damn.”

Rowan stood up, tucked away his phone, and stretched. “I’ve had enough of beating my head against that particular wall. What was the question you wanted to ask me?”

“Hmm? Ah.” I eyed him. “It might be too invasive a question, but considering parts of you have invaded parts of me, I figure it’s within the grounds of reasonable.”

“That’s right. What’s the question?”

“Besides, we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, so if I don’t ask, I’ll spend countless months wondering. Years, maybe.”

“Agreed,” he said, putting his hands on my hips and pulling them to his. Instantly my female bits woke up and demanded some hot and heavy Rowan action. “What is it you want to know?”

“And you know, I think communication is a very important part of any relationship. If there’s one thing I can fault Jian on, other than not watching for murderous demons in cars, it was the fact that he kept secrets from me. Like the fact that he was a dragon. That’s a pretty big secret, don’t you think?”

“One of the biggest.” He rubbed his hips against mine. “I will not keep secrets from you, but I may well think about tormenting you mercilessly with my tongue and one or two fingers if you don’t stop avoiding asking me whatever it is you’re curious about.”

“That,” I said, sliding my hands under his shirt, and stroking both of his adorable little nipple nubs, “is not going to get me to ask the question. Unless you tell me exactly what body parts will be the recipient of the tormenting.”

He leaned down and gently bit my lower lip. “Stop it.”

I giggled. “All right. I just wanted to make sure you’re on board with the whole communication thing. It’s important to me.” I held up a hand when he growled deep in his chest. “I wanted to know what it feels like to be a dragon.”

“I told you—it feels powerful.”

“Yes, but there has to be more to it than that. When you were around the other dragons, you were all caveman protective and acting like an adorable but enraging man. With the monster, you were pure heroic, and not that you weren’t heroic before, when you helped kick demon butt and all, but that was nothing to what you did with a sword. I didn’t even know you could use one!”

“I don’t. Or rather, I didn’t, but managed to learn fast.”