Page 43 of The Games Gods Play
I still don’t want to take them. “What are they?”
“Dragon teeth.”
The teeth are stark white, tan at the roots, and they come in so many different shapes, all of which remind me of ancient weapons. Single long, curved swords. Tiny, straight daggers. Three-pronged caltrops. And hammer-like molars made to crush instead of rend. “They’re so…”
“Impressive?”
“Small.”
I glance up to find his shoulders silently shaking. “They’ve been enchanted to be carried more easily, but they will still work fine. You plant them in the ground—any ground—and within minutes they will grow into bone soldiers that cannot be killed and who will obey your commands. Use them wisely.”
“What, exactly, do you think I’ll be doing?” I ask cautiously. It’s almost like he has an idea, but I’m well aware that’s not possible.
“Who knows?” he says. “If you use them, great. If not, I’ll take them when you get back.”
He has no idea that of all the things he brought me tonight, if I’m going against monsters at some point, these teeth might come in the handiest. Even so, I can’t take his relic. “These…have to be worth a small fortune. Even if you don’t use them, you could sell them and finish paying off your debts ten times over, probably.”
He shrugs. “I received my Deed of Fulfillment two years ago.”
I go still, staring at him with wide eyes. Two years? “So you want to stay in the Order?” I ask slowly. “Become a boss?”
“I have reasons for hanging around.”
I don’t ask. He doesn’t say.
“Still…these could set you up when you go legit.” I hold them out. “You shouldn’t give them to me. Everything else is more than enough.”
He lets me pour them into his palm, then takes the leather pouch and drops them in with little clicks of bone on bone…and holds the pouch out to me.
I have no clue what to do with this Boone. Yes, he’s always been nice to me, but in an oblivious, we-work-together sort of way, layered with the flirty way he is with everyone. Maybe even in a pity sort of way. But self-sacrificing friendship? No.
For the second time in two nights, tears mist my eyes, and I blink at the sting.
“If you don’t take them, I’ll just throw them away,” he says.
Knowing him, he means it, too. I huff. “Stubborn to the bitter end.”
Boone winks. “Says the pot.”
I grumble some more, but I snatch the bag from his hand. “How long will they last?”
“Until whatever you need them for is over. One use only.”
“Got it.” I set the pouch on the bedside table and look at him expectantly.
Only instead of leaving or whatever else he thinks he needs to do, he remains still as an awkward silence fills the room.
“You were always fascinated by dragons,” I say to break the silence. “Always reading about them. I guess now I know why.”
He glances away, and I realize that we aren’t close enough for me to know that. I’m giving myself away a bit, except he already knows about my feelings from Chance.
Boone gets up off the bed, and I’m not sure why, but I get up, too, and walk him to the door of the bedroom.
“I’ll check if it’s all clear,” I tell him.
It feels like the world flipped upside down and started spinning backward—him in my room, the risk he took to help me tonight.
I reach for the doorknob, but he gets there first, stopping me. “Something else?” I ask.
