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months I wasn't sure what he thought of me, but recently he had claimed me as his vampire mate. The dragon and I had spent a lot of time together since then and surprisingly he had a sense of humour. I was beginning to wonder if that was a dragon thing, not just specific to Michel's dragon-within. Sebastian looked like he'd been having fun with me this evening, in any case.
    "So, now you know who I am, lass, it is only fitting I know who you are, is it not?" Sebastian asked, with a look that said quite clearly that he had known all along that I'd have to answer the damn question eventually.
    I went to open my mouth, to hedge my answer to some degree - it never pays to give too much away to a supernatural - when Marie beat me to it.
    "This is Lucinda Monk, Sebastian. The Sanguis Vitam Cupitor ."
    Oh, bloody hell, Marie. Ever heard of too much information?
    Sebastian's face stilled, he inhaled deeply for the first time. It was unusual he hadn't sniffed my scent before. Most shifters would have been scenting me as soon as they entered the building. Clearly this was his first attempt to single out my signature scent. What would he smell? Candied apples and sunshine, honey and Spring. Nothing too flash, just all me. He'd catalogue it, file it, remember it for future use. He'd recognise me if he crossed my path again, he'd be able to identify me simply by my scent. But that would be it.
    I waited as his chest deflated and his stunning electric blue eyes met mine. There was recognition there, a wariness and - if I had to hazard a guess - respect. Huh.
    "The vampyre-dragon's mate," he said in a strangely guttural voice. Raspy, low, a little bit scary to be honest. "Welcome to my dùthaich , little cousin."
    Cousin? Oh no, this could not be a good thing, could it?
    Somehow I was guessing probably not.

Chapter 2
Saint George And The Dragon
    "Do you know the legend of St. George and the Dragon?" Marie asked, as she navigated a particularly busy intersection in her VW Golf.
    Surprisingly, Sebastian had just let us go after that little round of introductions. I was sure I now featured on his radar - whatever his radar was set to detect - but I wasn't sure exactly what that would mean for me. He'd been friendly to Marie, well more than that, he'd practically drooled over her. But me? Not so much. And all that talk of cousins was a little unnerving. I wasn't sure where I stood in relation to the dragon shifter, but I knew it wouldn't be the last time I saw him. I didn't have that kind of luck.
    "Um, he's the patron saint of England, isn't he?" I answered, holding onto the door frame with one hand as Marie barrelled through an incredibly tight gap. I was determined to learn my way around these chaotic city streets and drive myself as soon as I was able. Of course, I'd need a car for that. Mine had been left in New Zealand. Samson now drove my BMW Series 1 Convertible. I missed the car almost as much as I missed him.
    "The adopted patron saint," she replied, glancing over towards me, but thankfully returning her attention to the road. "St. George was not English. He was a Roman soldier from the province of Syria Palaestina , but in the middle ages we adopted him as our patron saint. He was recognised as an accomplished warrior, it made sense to have a warrior represent England back then."
    She braked hard for a red light, making my body rocket forward in my seat and the seatbelt groan under the G-Force of the movement. Her car was old, really old. I was surprised it was road worthy at all. But Marie's driving made the whole episode firmly in the area of life-on-the-line, as opposed to just dangerous. She tapped her finger against the steering wheel as she waited impatiently for the light to turn. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. It wasn't that much further to Michel's house.
    "Anyway, the legend of Saint George and the Dragon took place in Silene, some time in the thirteenth century. The town had a pond, or lake, where the Dragon dwelt.