Rare Form (Descended of Dragons, Book 1)

Excerpt 1 (Chapter 2)

I had reason to be wary of Rowan Gresham when I saw him at the coffee shop. Crazy doesn't always look crazy. Sometimes it looks like the most handsome and refined gentleman ever encountered in one's short life.

Gresham sat at a corner table for two but the confident set of his shoulders, the rigid turn of his jaw, and the indiscriminate menace in his glare occupied the space of half a dozen. The pendant light above him had blown providing a concealing shadow, and despite the prime coffee consumption hour the tables around him stood deserted. I wasn't the only one who picked up on his threatening vibe.

The gray counter near the register betrayed streaks of white from repeated abuse as half-conscious and completely-apathetic baristas slid hot beverages across it day after day. I ordered a large latte and added a shot of mocha at the last minute because I sure deserved it after the day I'd had.

The air in the coffee shop was infused with the thick, robust aroma of coffee beans, and I took a fortifying breath. Blind courage was what I needed to face him again. It had gotten me this far. Just a bit further yet to go.

I made my way to the back table and sat across from Gresham, who stood while I approached and sat again once I was seated. This unfamiliar display of chivalry pleased me, but I hastily remembered I hated him and quelled any gushy feelings.

"Thank you for coming, Stella. I had my doubts you would. Do you care for anything besides coffee?"

Rowan Gresham had a slight accent. Not English, exactly. Not French. I couldn't quite place it, but it seemed to have the influence of a romance language. He rolled the "r" in 'care.' Sexy.

No, Stonewall. He's a weirdo, remember?

His lightweight black sweater probably cost more than my entire ensemble, which that day was nothing to sneeze at. I'd worn my navy sheath dress, the one cut a little too low in the back and a little too high in the hemline. A patterned belt cinched my waist and defined the line of my chest. Casual ballet flats ensured the outfit still said 'daytime.'

"I almost didn't." I forced the words out and raised my chin. "But I couldn't overcome my curiosity." Nerves inspired me to swipe an imaginary strand of auburn hair behind my ear. "So? Let's hear it. What do you know about my father? And just so you know," I warned, "I asked the woman at the counter to keep an eye on our table, should you get any more ideas about throwing me over your shoulder. And three people know I'm meeting you." A complete lie. I hadn't even told my roommate Lizzie the truth about the meeting.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that," he stammered uncomfortably. "But you must admit that the first time was to save your life, and the second...well, I did need you to get you into the car quickly." To his credit, he looked abashed as his gaze shot to the floor and he licked dry lips.

"Well, let's get right down to it, then, Mr. Gresham." I sat back in my seat, crossed my arms and gave him my best scowl-eyebrows pulled together in the middle and everything. "What do you want to tell me so desperately that you were willing to kidnap me?"

He gave me a smile that was less like a smile and more like a you-were-cute-for-a-minute-but-now-shut-the-hell-up.

"I have some information I'm afraid is going to give you a bit of a shock. There's no real way to ease into it. The world...you...things are not what they seem."

He was silent for a moment and scrunched up his face, turning his head from side to side as if he was trying to work out some great mystery. He hesitated so long I thought he wouldn't go on. But then he set his square jaw and nodded once.

"Look, I'll just dive right into it. Stop me if you have questions. There exists a whole other realm in which beings have varying lineages, abilities, knowledge. This world is parallel to the one you know, but it is vastly different. My world knows of yours, of course, but very few people within your world have the slightest idea about mine."