So why did the knowledge that Raoul was jealous make me feel like I was floating?
And why, blessed moonbells, did I want him to keep looking at me like he was right now, as if I was the only person in the entire world who mattered?
CHAPTER EIGHT
RAOUL
I’d avoided my wife for three days.
After finishing our tour, I’d escorted Adele back to our chambers with the excuse of urgent business requiring my attention. Then I’d thrown myself into every task I could find, no matter how trivial. I went over trade agreements that didn’t need reviewing. I inspected border patrols that were running perfectly. I flew reconnaissance missions over areas that hadn’t seen trouble in decades.
Anything to avoid returning to my chambers until I was certain Adele would be otherwise occupied and asleep. Anything to give myself time to put this into perspective.
The first night, I’d crept in past midnight to find her curled in my bed, one hand tucked under her cheek, her dark hair spilled across my pillow. Fletcher lifted his head from where he was sleeping at the foot of the bed and gave me a look that made it clear he knew I was avoiding her.
I grabbed a blanket and retreated to the sofa.
The second night, Fletcher didn’t even bother lifting his head. He just sighed when I entered, the sound echoing through the quiet chamber like an accusation.
By the third night, the basset hound had positioned himself directly between the sofa and the bedroom door, forcing me to step over him. When I did, he huffed and turned his back to me, his droopy ears expressing disdain.
“I don’t need judgment from a dog,” I muttered, spreading my blanket across the sofa cushions.
Fletcher’s ears twitched, but he didn’t look my way.
I lay in the darkness, listening to the soft sounds of Adele sleeping in the next room, and tried not to think about how she’d looked in that cream dress. How her scent had invaded my senses and refused to leave.
How I’d wanted to kiss her right there in the corridor, consequences be damned.
My dragon side prowled beneath my skin, furious with me for maintaining this distance. That part of me wanted to be close to her, to breathe in her scent, to feel her cool magic dancing across my scales. It didn’t care about professional partnerships or emotional safety or the very sensible reasons I’d established boundaries in the first place.
It just wanted her.
And the shifter side of me was losing the battle.
I’d built my entire adult life around control. After my parents died, it became my foundation. If I could regulate my emotions, manage my responsibilities, and maintain perfect order in my environment, nothing could hurt me the way their loss had.
Adele was messing it all up.
She was everything I shouldn’t want. Which was precisely why I wanted her so desperately it terrified me.
On the fourth morning, I woke to find Fletcher sitting on the floor, directly in front of my face, his droopy eyes fixed on me with unmistakable accusation.
“What?”I said.
He huffed.
“I’m maintaining appropriate distance.”
Another huff, this one somehow conveying his opinion of that excuse.
“She agreed to a professional partnership. I’m honoring our arrangement.”
Fletcher turned around, lifted his tail, and farted directly in my face before waddling toward the bedroom.
“That was unnecessary,” I called after him, waving away the fumes.
But the message was clear. Adele’s dog thought I was being an ass.
