Rhavor muttered his name in return, refusing to turn fully around. He grabbed the empty crates and held them strategically low against his fly, his jaw tight enough to crack stone.
“Time for me,” he rumbled, finally catching Sylvie’s gaze.
The look was dark, heated, and full of a very specific, unfinished promise. Then he disappeared out the back door, leaving behind the faint, haunting scent of woodsmoke and masculine spice.
Julian turned back to Sylvie, his expression bright and entirely too knowing.
“All right, dear,” he said briskly, snapping his CV against his palm. “I’ve got work to do. I didn’t come for gossip.”
“Yes. Of course.” Sylvie nodded, her face still radiating enough heat to brown a meringue.
Julian’s gaze drifted once more to her apron before he broke into a slow, delighted grin.
“I’m going to love working here,” he declared, his hooves clacking rhythmically as he headed toward the storefront. “I’m really going to love working here.”
Chapter 10: Rhavor
The rain had eased by the time he reached the truck, leaving the air thick with the scent of damp pavement and the lingering, taunting ghost of vanilla.
Fuck.
He slammed the door, and the metal shuddered under the impact.
He rested his forehead against the cold steering wheel and closed his eyes, but it did nothing to dampen the fire. His cock was still hard. Heavy. Aching where it strained against his zipper.
All because of a baker in lace stockings.
Inside his chest, the dragon shifted.
Not satisfied.
Hungry.
Go back.
The urge rolled through him—raw and immediate. Drag her into the back room. Finish it. Mark her. Make sure every male in this town knew exactly who she belonged to.
His grip tightened on the wheel.
She had gotten under his skin in days. Days.
Every time she stepped close, something in him locked on. He wanted to close the distance. Wanted her in his arms. In his space. In his house.
In his life.
That was the problem.
His dragon wanted to stand in front of her. Between her and anything that could hurt her. It wanted to keep and protect.
That was new.
Mine. Keep. Hold.
The words pulsed through him, dark and certain. He didn’t want part of her. He wanted all of her—the sharp tongue, the stubborn chin, the way she looked at him like she wasn’t afraid of the horns or the size or the fire in his eyes.
And that scared the hell out of him.
What if she woke up one day and decided Honeybay was too small?
