“I need to finish packing.”
“Julian will handle it,” he said, nodding toward the satyr, who was already waving a hand in theatrical confirmation, clearly enjoying the show.
“I’m really fine—”
“I need to make sure you get home safely,” he cut in, a slow grin tugging at his mouth despite himself. “Your butt is far too precious to risk.”
Her eyes flashed.
He carried her to the truck, the scent of her—sweet, wild, like crushed berries and summer—filling his head. He yanked open the passenger door, but she protested, wincing as her feet touched the floorboards.
“Nope,” she said. “Too sore to sit.”
A mischievous smile tugged at her lips despite the complaint.
She looked so adorably flushed and wind-mussed that he couldn’t resist. He kissed her—quick, warm, charged with every ounce of frustration and restrained hunger he had carried.
He reached into the back of the truck, grabbed a thick wool blanket, and pulled her tight against his chest. With a powerful, ground-shaking beat of his wings, he lifted them into the air.
Sylvie gasped, her hands clutching his shirt, nails biting into the rock-hard muscle of his shoulders.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere I only take what belongs to me.”
Her eyes widened, her breath hitching.
He carried her high above the pier and the golden sands of Honeybay before angling toward the wooded hills. A small clearing waited at the top—a secret place overlooking the distant, silver shimmer of the sea. It was private, ringed by gnarled trees that had seen decades of sunsets burn across the horizon.
He landed gently, setting her down on the moss. It gave softly beneath their feet—cool, springy, and smelling of damp earth. He spread the blanket with a practiced flick of his wrist. The sun hovered low, bleeding gold into copper.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said softly.
“I used to come here often.”
“With Ronda?” she asked.
“No.” His answer was immediate. Blunt. “She was afraid of heights. I never flew her anywhere. I suspected my aunt and Arla wouldn’t leave you in the dark about my past.”
“They mentioned something… —so did you bring me here so I can’t escape whatever you’re about to say?” she teased, eyeing the steep slope behind them.
“Ronda was my fiancée, yes—but not my mate. I didn’t realize that back then.” He glanced at her, his amber eyes softening, his voice dropping an octave. “I brought you here because you like flying. And because,” he added, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, “I want to share it with you”
“Only when Myrtle keeps her libido-boosting drink to herself,” she laughed.
He smirked, a dark, wicked glint in his eyes.
“It did add a certain… turbulence to the last flight.”
He sat on the blanket and pulled her into his lap. The horizon was burning now, rose and crimson melting into the treeline.
“I missed you,” she said, turning to face him.
Her cheeks were flushed a delicious shade of pink—half sunset, half anticipation.
The dragon stirred in his chest, clawing at his ribs with a single, repeating thought.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
