Princess Buttercup’s head tilts, her pupils widening as she stares at me. Then she shakes her head. “You don’t show it. How would anyone know?” She strolls away, head in the air, bushy tail a jauntily raised flag.
The smell of cat urine fills the air, my keen fae senses making it more intense. Fire pours from my mouth, burning the boots to ash, leaving scorch marks on the stone without doing any real damage. There’s a reason dragons live in cavesand castles, surrounded by impervious rock.
I pinch the bridge of my nose for several moments as I roll her words over in my mind. Do I hide my true feelings?
Then I snort. Of course, I hide my true feelings. It’s the only way I’ve survived the past few centuries. My family always tried to hide theirs as well—their constant discomfort at my brokenness—but they were never fully successful. It became easier to act as if it didn’t bother me…
As ifnothingbothered me.
I became a dragon of stone and fire instead of scales and blood.
The only time I’ve dropped my guard has been with Skye. And it hasn’t only been while dancing that I’ve done so. No, it’s also occurred while working with her in my library. Hours spent without any need to guard my thoughts.
It’s been so very freeing, Skye’s youthful energy and boundless joy sparking feelings I thought lost centuries ago.
The familiar’s words make me dig deeper within myself to face the most terrifying realization of all: I love Skye.
The power of her magic might have called me to her at the start, but her intelligence, her kindness, her ability to find happiness in the smallest of things—they’re miraculous.
She’smiraculous.
I’m afraid for the first time in centuries, because I finally have something I hold truly precious, and I can’t bear the thought of losing her.
The next morning, Skye mumbles something as she stares down at her breakfast pastry.
“What was that?” I shove another piece of bacon into my mouth, my fangs biting through it with a satisfying crunch.
“I have to go into town,” she says in a rush, forget-me-not eyes flicking toward me and away. “I’m sorry you have to fly me, but I have to go. It’s for the children. Today’s story hour.”
“I’ll fly you,” I growl, a frown creasing my brow. I’ll fly her anywhere she wants. She doesn’t have to beg.
“Thank you.” She stands and smoothes her hands down her dress, the bright turquoise fabric swirling around her hips. The skirt is cut so full that if I spun her around, it would fly up, giving me a flash of her delectable thighs.
My hands ball into fists to keep from reaching for her, my claws pressing into my palms. But I can’t stop my heart from skipping when I take her into my arms, my internal fire roaring to new heights. I wrap her in warmth as I leap into the air, my tail coiling around her bare calves.
Can anyone blame me if I fly far slower than I’ve ever flown in my long life? My wings beat lazily at the air. I never want this flight to end.
I never want to let her go.
All too soon, the forest below us gives way to the buildings of downtown Ferndale Falls. If the town were setup like most human municipalities, with an even ring of houses surrounding its center, these flights would take longer. Yet it’s not to be. Downtown butts up against the forest and the waterfall in the northeast, leaving the bulk of town to spread southwest, like parcels pouring from a tipped-over bag.
We land in front of the library almost as soon as we leave the trees behind.
Skye takes two quick steps away from me before pausing to say, “Thank you.”
I grunt and follow her toward the library, reaching past her to open the door.
She glances over her shoulder as soon as she sees my arm, eyes startled and sad. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I want to.” Where else would I go? There’s nowhere I want to be more than with her. I also look forward to hearing her read for the children. I caught some of her performance at Halloween and found it intriguing—the young ones were clearly delighted. I wonder what dragon younglings would think?
The Ferndale Falls library is a swirl of sound and activity, the room full of frazzled parents, dropped toys, and the puffy mounds of winter coats flung off like butterflies shedding their cocoons. The freed children run around the tables and bookshelves, screaming all the while.
“Thank the goddess, you’re here!” Bumbleboots appears out of midair, wringing his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
“The only thing I want you to worry about today is if any of the children play too rough with the books. If that happens, you have my permission to whisk the book away.”Skye sets a hand on his shoulder. “Does that sound okay?”
“I can do that.” Bumbleboots nods emphatically, his huge brown eyes brimming with relief. “I won’t let you down.” He disappears from view again.
