“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she says.
“Yeah?” Kelan leans forward, bracing his forearms on the table like he’s expecting to respond to something serious or challenging.
“Do you shed your skins like snakes and lizards?” Aura wrinkles her nose as though the idea would be gross.
We all burst out laughing, relieved at such an innocent question.
“When we’re growing,” Kelan explains. “But not anymore.”
“No danger of you waking up covered in a scaly blanket,” Ronyn laughs.
“That’s a relief,” she says. “But isn’t it weird to leave a chunk of yourself behind?”
“No weirder than losing a tooth,” I muse. “Or cutting a nail. It returns to the earth like everything else that’s dead or shed.”
She nods, contemplating.
Around us, couples chatter and groups laugh. Businessis thriving, which is good to see.
“So,” Aura says after a moment, casting a glance around the restaurant, clearly trying to ground herself in something tangible. “How long have you been in the restaurant business?”
Darial doesn’t even blink. “Which time?”
She pauses. Slowly lowers her fork.
“What he means is ‘which century’,” I say, taking a bite of my perfectly cooked steak and chewing thoughtfully.
“We don’t need to work,” Kelan says. “We amassed our wealth years ago. We dabble to pass the time.”
Aura turns to him, eyes luminous. “Until what?”
“Until you,” he says, reaching across the table for her hand. For a flash, his fingernails lengthen into claws as his dragon surges, then he pulls himself under control. It’s hard being around our mate, scenting her sweet arousal in the air, and resisting the desire to claim her. It’s hard to keep our dragons leashed when all they want is to be free with their mate.
“You say that, and it’s hard for me to comprehend what that’s been like. You’ve gone your whole lives knowing there was a female destined to be your mate, and I’ve spent my whole life believing there was no one out there for me.”
“I don’t know which is the greater madness,” Darial says.
She laughs again, soft, and sweet, the sound relaxing my shoulders.
“And you’ve been everywhere, haven’t you?” she asks, gaze wandering back to the windows, to the cityscape beyond. “And I’ve been nowhere.”
“Most places worth seeing,” Kelan answers. “And a few that aren’t.”
Darial leans back, thoughtful. “Florence, when artists still painted ceilings. Paris before electricity ruined the romance. Kyoto in spring.” He glances at her. “You’d like them all, I think. So much beauty to paint.”
Aura’s expression becomes dreamy and distant. She rests her chin on her hand, eyes misted with thought. “I’ve realized, you don’t even need to take a plane.”
“Neither do you,” I remind her.
She straightens. “So, we could go somewhere tonight?”
“Not tonight,” Kelan says. “But tomorrow, if you’d like?”
She nods eagerly, clasping her hands to her mouth. “Yes!”
“Well,” Darial says lightly, warmth flaring when she brushes his arm as she reaches for her glass. “We have a cabin in the mountains. There’s snow this time of year. The landscape is begging to be painted.”
Her breath catches. “But I haven’t painted in years,” she admits. “I don’t know if I remember how.”
