She had the distinct suspicion she had not seen the last of him.
Or of the dragon.
Sylvie pressed her forehead briefly to the cool glass of the door.
This was supposed to be a quiet new start.
So why did it feel like her life was about to become very, very complicated?
Chapter 6: Rhavor
Rhavor sat at the rough wooden table, staring at the bowl of freshly picked strawberries. They were still warm from the day’s heat, their skins glossy and red in the last stretch of sunlight bleeding through the kitchen window.
He should eat them.
That’s what normal people did with strawberries.
Instead, he was thinking how Sylvie’s pretty mouth would look closing around one.
He leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling.
His dragon had been restless since she’d driven away.
It had been eight hours.
Eight.
He could survive another eight hours.
His dragon shifted behind his ribs.
Unimpressed.
“You are not driving into town,” he muttered.
Sylvie’s bright eyes flashed through his mind. The way she’d looked up at him like she wasn’t afraid of him at all.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
He shoved back from the table, the chair legs screeching against the floorboards like a warning he was choosing to ignore.
This is business only.
He grabbed the bowl of strawberries and set them into a wooden crate. Then he headed down to the cellar.
He selected three cheeses: the soft chèvre rolled in herbs; the firm, aged tom with a sharp bite; and the washed rind he’d been saving for competition.
He stared at the last one for a second.
Then added it to the crate anyway.
Keep it business,he told himself.
He carried everything out to the truck.
You are promoting product.
You are not driving into town because you want to see her again.
