“What? Do I smell or something?”

“No,” he muttered, not meeting my gaze. “Sorry. It’s not you, Firebrand, it’s just…” He made a vague gesture at me. “That thing. Brings back fun memories, if you know what I mean.”

I suddenly realized the problem. “I look like a Viper,” I said, and he nodded.

“When you’ve been out of Talon as long as I have, the last thing you want to see is that outfit. Because it usually means you’re fighting or running for your life.”

“I’m a rogue now, too, Riley.”

“I know.” He reached out and brushed the base of my neck. A jolt of heat surged through me from that spot, as his fingers lingered on my skin. Riley’s gold eyes almost glowed in the shadows. “I’m glad you’re here, Firebrand,” he said, his voice low and soft. “I’m glad I won’t have to meet you down the road someday as a Viper. That would kill me, having to fight you.” His mouth twitched in a faint smile. “You have no idea how relieved I am that you left the organization. That you saw Talon for what it really is.”

I swallowed, the warmth spreading through my whole body as the dragon rose to the surface, pushing against my fragile human shell. The Viper suit tightened, flattening to my skin until it felt like I wasn’t wearing anything at all. I could Shift, I realized. Right here in this tiny hotel room. What did I have to lose? No one would see me but Riley and Wes. And then, if I Shifted, Riley would probably change, too. I wanted him to. I wanted to see his true self, his other self, the one who called to my dragon and who peered down at me with gleaming golden eyes.

Cobalt.

Get it together, Ember. I breathed deep to cool my lungs, to calm the fire spreading through me, and tried to grin back. “Yeah, well, I bet you didn’t know what you were getting into,” I said lightly.

“Doesn’t matter.” Riley dropped his arm and stepped back as if he couldn’t bear to touch me anymore. Or perhaps, if he kept touching me, a large blue dragon would suddenly make a very explosive appearance in the middle of the hotel room. “But if we live through this, you owe me, Firebrand. Big-time.” He glanced at Wes, who was packing his laptop into a shoulder bag, his jaw set. “Everyone ready? Once we start, there’s no turning back. Wes?”

“Piss off” was the sullen answer. “Like I have any sort of choice. When you’re killed by St. George, don’t expect me to babysit two dozen bloody hatchlings the rest of my life.”