My breath caught and I rubbed my thumb over the ridges of the embroidered dragon. I pressed my free hand to the inside of my left hip.

It was the exact same one I’d drawn for the tattoo artist. The exact same one. It’d faded with all the burns and nanos, but it was still there. When I noticed it’d faded, I made a plan to get it fixed as soon as I was off Abaddon, but why was it here? On his clothes?

I tried to tell myself that dragons were popular. That so many different people and cultures used them as logos and icons and legends. Maybe this was just something my subconscious pulled up. A general Aunare thing. It didn’t mean that it was specific to Lorne.

“What does it mean?”

He glanced at the embroidery. “House of Taure. Each member of the Taure bloodline is given a special symbol. This particular firedrake is mine.”

Lorne bent down and picked up a pair of slip-ons, and I was glad that he wasn’t looking at my face right then. I wasn’t sure what it meant or why out of all the things in the world, I’d picked Lorne’s personal symbol to tattoo on my hip.

He stood up and I tried my best to wipe all the emotions from my face. He never had to know about my tattoo.

“This is my personal ship, although I keep some clothes and shoes in various sizes in case of emergencies.”

“Emergencies?” I asked, trying to focus on what he was saying. “You pick up half-dead girls from moons a lot?”

He laughed, and from the look on his face, I wasn’t sure who was more surprised by it—him or me. “I shouldn’t have laughed. That wasn’t funny.”

“Too soon?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t pick up half-dead girls a lot. This is a first for me.” His grin. God. That smile. It stole my breath.

I cleared my throat, not wanting to seem as affected as I was by him or the firedrake or the sound of his laugh. “Right. So other, more normal types of emergencies.”

But I wondered why he needed the clothes. He’d asked a lot about my past back in the warehouse. Roan had practically spilled my whole dating history, the jerk. It should’ve been fair play to ask about his, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear his answer.

I looked into his eyes, and that aquamarine gaze saw right through me. I didn’t know how, but he did. “You can ask.”

My cheeks heated. Would I feel jealous if I knew the answer? I didn’t want to find out. “It’s none of my business.”

He raised a brow but offered nothing, so I took the jumpsuit and shoes from him and went back into the bathroom to change.