6. Sebastian

"She says she needs to conduct business," I grumble to myself as I pace the length of my study like a caged animal. "I transferred tens of thousands of dollars into her account yet she claims she can"t leave her customers high and dry." I make air quotes around the word customers, rolling my eyes.

As if I'm a complete idiot.

I knew better than to trust a human! I knew, yet I foolishly let my guard down.

I"m normally no fool. I"ve been around the block a time or twenty when it comes to dealing with humans. I know how duplicitous and conniving they can be, but I really wanted to give Gemma the benefit of the doubt.

Now I feel like a Grade A chump. I let myself get bamboozled by a pretty face and a magical pussy. Even as I think the thought, my heart clenches. I don't want it to be true.

I want eyes on her at all times.

I fired off a text to Jamal, my security chief, a few hours ago my jaw clenched so tightly my teeth still ache.

Find out where she"s going and report back to me.

I always intended to have security assigned to my wife. A wise man protects what's his. But when Gemma insisted she leave the house alone, then said she'd be busy from morning till nightfall, my planned protection detail went from overt to covert.

Consider it done, sir.

I"m so furious right now, I'm about to start breathing fire—literally—when my phone finally buzzes with another text from Jamal.

California General. She went in over an hour ago. Still hasn"t come out. Room 203.

California General? The hospital? What the hell?

A multitude of scenarios run through my head. Does Gemma have a boyfriend? A lover? Is her side piece ill? I picture a puny weakling who's suffering from a migraine or a stomach ache or a sore throat or any of the other ailments that afflict fragile, whiny human males.

Yeah, well, I'm about to storm in there and tear some shit up. Break up whatever little rendezvous Gemma"s got going on.

Cursing under my breath, I race to my twelve car garage, slide behind the wheel of my Masserati, and take off to the hospital at warp speed in a squeel of burning rubber.

When I stalk toward the building, I throw up a mysst as I go. It"s a neat little trick we dragons have, the ability to produce a magical fog cloud to surround us and afford us the ability to move around undetected when we need to. In other words, an invisibility cloak. It comes in real handy for situations like this.

If I do let my temper loose and smash up a few things, I'd hate to have it recorded on a security camera.

I make my way to Room 203, bracing myself for the possibility of finding my wife cuddling up to and fawning over some weak, pathetic human loser—nursing him through a head cold or some such nonsense.

But when I ease open the door and slip inside, I"m hit with something that stops me dead in my tracks.

What. The. Hell

I expected the cloying stench of cheap cologne or the musky odor of arousal. But no, it"s much, much worse.

What I see isn't Gemma or a man, but a tiny wisp of a girl, all curly black hair and big brown eyes, propped up against a mountain of pillows.

But what hits me like a gut punch is the unmistakable odor.

This little girl is sick. Really sick. The kind of sick that"s got the stench of the Reaper all over it.

"Who are you?" she asks, her little head tilted curiously to the side.

I gape at her, trying to process this. "Uh...I"m Sebastian," I manage after an awkward beat. "Sebastian Dabertzholder." Another uncomfortable pause. "I"m looking for Gemma?"

The little girl"s face brightens instantly and I see the resemblance to my wife in her impish grin.

"Gemma"s my mommy," she informs me matter-of-factly, like I'm supposed to know this already. My heart stutters as my whole world suddenly tilts on its axis.