I called Ridge, and he is fine. I think I might be more nervous than he is. No, Iammore nervous than he is.
The passport control building sits low and gray at the edge of the airfield, two guards posted outside the door. I check my watch. I’m a few minutes early. My car is parked in the lot behind me.
I rub my palms down the front of my pants. Once. Then again.
I don’t know what to expect. That’s the problem. We’ve exchanged some texts over the last few weeks. I asked her to the wedding because I needed a date. I’ve kept things friendly and casual. My hope is that she doesn’t think it’s more than it is.
A shout goes up from one of the guards, and I look up to find three shapes cutting across the sky, the red in their scales catching the mid-morning sun. The last time I saw her in dragon form, I was pretty messed up, but I still recognize her. Her wings are wider than the two males flanking her, her body longerthrough the middle, and she banks first, leading the descent toward the strip behind the building.
They come in fast and then pull up. The two males flare their wings hard ten feet off the ground and drop the last of their height in a controlled fall, claws finding the dirt, dust flying up around them. Brook follows a beat later, landing smoothly.
The shift happens almost too fast to track. Scales fold into skin, the long lines of her body drawing inward, wings gone, and then she’s just a woman crouched on the ground where a dragon was standing a second ago. The two males do the same, one staggering slightly before he catches his balance.
They’ve all got bags, which they must have been carrying in their talons. The males open their bags right there and start pulling out clothing.
Brook doesn’t bother.
She jogs toward me across the open ground, naked, grinning, her bag bouncing against her hip with every stride. She’s tall, every inch of her toned. Her hair is dark and about shoulder-length. She lifts a hand and waves before she’s even close enough for me to make out her face properly.
I lift my hand and wave back.
I feel nothing.
I stand there with my arm half-raised and wait for something to happen, because she is beautiful. Any male with a pulse should feel something looking at her. My dragon doesn’t so much as twitch. He could be asleep. It’s a little annoying because I want to feel something.
She pulls a shirt over her head and steps into a pair of panties.
She reaches the gate and ducks through it.
Two guards take her details, scan her passport, stamp it, and she’s through. I watch through the glass while she answerssomething one of the guards asks her, head tilted, easy and relaxed about the whole thing.
She steps through the door and pulls on a pair of really short shorts, dressed before she’s halfway to me.
“Hi.” She’s all smiles as she slips her feet into a pair of sandals.
She closes the last few feet and wraps her arms around my neck. I hug her back, and then she leans up and kisses me.
It’s quick and soft and shocks me to my core.
I don’t move into it. I don’t move at all. I don’t kiss her back. It’s too quick to push her away.
Fuck.
She pulls back first, and if she notices that I stood there like a fence post the whole time, she doesn’t say so. I take her bag from her shoulder before she can argue about it.
This is a mess. I shouldn’t have asked her. She thinks it’s more.
Dammit!
“This is so exciting,” she says, falling into step beside me. “I love weddings. There’s something about them.”
“Robyn will be glad you came.”
“How’s Draig Island treating everyone? I haven’t heard much beyond what Flint tells me, and he’s not exactly a gossip.”
“Good. Quiet, mostly.” I glance at her. “How’s Mistveil?”
“Better than I expected, honestly. Flint’s doing good work over there. The frontline staff actually like him, which is saying something, given where we started.” She bumps my arm with her shoulder. “You should be proud of him.”
