The words came out clipped, flat, with a weight to them that spoke of experience that made Riordan want to tear something to pieces with his sharp selkie teeth. Since there wasn’t anything around for him to kill, Riordan settled for taking Wade’s hand in his and holding on tight. The touch seemed to startle Wade out of whatever memories were haunting him, his head snapping around. Riordan smiled softly at him. “I don’t think I’ve said thank you for all the help you’re giving us.”
Wade stared down at their hands before raising his head and arching an eyebrow. “Aren’t fae not supposed to offer any thanks?”
“I know you won’t hurt us.” He tugged on Wade’s hand, drawing the other man over to the walkway’s blue railing so theywere out of the way of anyone walking past. His gaze lingered on Wade’s expressive mouth and the hint of ice cream at one corner. “Can I kiss you?”
Wade went still, planting his feet. His eyes widened, the sunlight catching bits of gold in the deep brown there. He seemed at a loss for words, but Riordan let him find them, not wanting to push past any boundary that kept Wade comfortable.
“Yes?” he finally said.
“That sounds like a question.” Wade bit his bottom lip hard enough the skin there went white from the pressure. Riordan couldn’t stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to cup Wade’s jaw, using his thumb to gently pry his lip free. “Try again.”
Wade drew in a breath that Riordan wanted to chase. “Yes.”
This time, the answer was softer, less questioning, but the way that Wade held himself, it was as if he were bracing for a hit. Riordan telegraphed every move he made as he leaned in close, tilting his head only a little since they were nearly of height and pressing his lips to Wade’s. He kept the pressure gentle, parting his lips after a moment to flick his tongue over Wade’s lips. It was easy to step closer, to lick past Wade’s teeth, to kiss him with a careful thoroughness that made Riordan’s lungs tighten. The sweetness of their ice cream lingered on his tongue. Wade’s response was clumsy, sweet in a way that told Riordan he probably hadn’t done this much.
Riordan let go of Wade’s hand and settled it on Wade’s hip, which had the unintended effect of causing Wade to jerk back, breaking the kiss, and wrench himself out of Riordan’s grip. Riordan immediately froze, staring at where Wade stood just out of arm’s reach, breathing a little heavily. It wasn’t the reaction Riordan had hoped for; it told him more than he thought Wade realized.
He had to force his voice to stay quiet, to hold back the fury he felt at whoever had hurt Wade in the past to make him react like this. “Are you all right?”
Wade raised his hand to touch his lips, brow furrowed, not looking at Riordan. His breathing had eased some, but Riordan wasn’t going to try to crowd him. “Is that what it’s supposed to feel like when you kiss someone?”
The words were a mutter, not really directed to Riordan, but they were the catalyst for a fury that sluiced through him like a riptide. “Who hurt you?”
Wade raised his head, blinking at him in surprise, as if he’d forgotten Riordan was there with him. He stared at Riordan, eyes wide, and for a second, Riordan thought his pupils had changed shape.
Wade laughed a little weakly, waving off Riordan’s question. “It’s nothing. Can we try that again?”
“It’s something.”
“Just a memory.”
Considering the memory had Wade jerking out of his arms, Riordan knew he was going to have to be careful with touch going forward. “Are you sure you want to try kissing me again?”
“Yes.” Wade spoke quickly, but there wasn’t any scent of fear in the air between them—nothing sour or bitter. He could’ve been hiding it, putting up a front that Riordan wouldn’t be able to see through. Only Wade was looking at him with a curious sort of longing in those brown eyes that Riordan didn’t have it in himself to deny.
He stepped closer, easing into Wade’s space. Riordan framed Wade’s face with one hand, amazed at how warm he felt, like he’d been soaking in sunlight the way a cat might. This time, Riordan kissed Wade with a carefulness that deepened slowly, letting Wade set the pace. Fingers curled around the fabric of hisT-shirt, Wade’s palm pressing against his chest. He thought, for a moment, Wade was going to pull him closer.
But then Wade shoved him away with a strength that had Riordan nearly falling to the ground in shock, arms windmilling, the remnants of his ice-cream cone going flying. “What?—”
Something hot and sharp skimmed across his rib cage. A burning, hideous pain stabbed through his chest, and Riordan curled around the wound iron had made in him with a shocked gasp.
Wade lashed out, hand a blur as he gripped air andyanked—and a dagger fell to the ground, clattering over the pathway. He snarled, fingers—no,claws—digging into something Riordan couldn’t see until he did. Glamour peeled away from Wade’s claws, the bright, rainbow lines of magic sloughing off like a weaving coming undone.
The fae held in Wade’s grip was dressed in jeans, a Boston Bruins T-shirt, and leather gloves, sharply pointed ears poking out of his shoulder-length honey-colored hair. The fae’s other hand was a blur as he reached for the knife on his belt, but it never connected. Wade opened his mouth and belched a literal plume of fire directly in the fae’s face, eradicating their head.
Riordan stared in stunned silence at the red scales crawling up Wade’s neck and jaw, spreading across his cheeks. More red scales pushed through the skin of his forearms, shining in the sunlight as he shoved the corpse over the side of the railing. A distant splash told Riordan it had made it to the water.
When Wade turned to face him, those brown eyes Riordan had enjoyed staring into were now a vivid gold, bisected by reptilian pupils, and Wade’s teeth, when he scowled, were more like fangs. That pressure in the air Riordan remembered from Beacon Hill was back, like he was kneeling before something huge, even if all he could see was Wade.
The fae was dead.
Riordan had an iron wound in his side.
All of that was secondary to the visceral truth Riordan couldn’t deny—that Wade was adragon.
No wonder Carmen called him fledgling.
He blinked, and in that scant second, the scales on Wade’s body disappeared, and his eyes were back to that particular shade of brown Riordan had found so arresting.
