Page 75 of Dragon’s Rogue

“First off,” Rebel said, “I’m pretty sure this one was never a prince to begin with. And second,” she gestured to herself, “not a maiden, if by maiden you mean virgin. And third, doesn’t it have to be true love’s kiss? Because I’m not feeling the love right now.”

Tempest put down her notebook, stood up and grabbed Rebel’s arm. “Come on. You need to do this.”

Tempest was so rarely that insistent about what needed to happen that Rebel found herself being dragged out into the yard, still protesting.

“I’m not kissing that thing! And you’re not going near it. It’ll bite our heads off and eat them like M&Ms.”

“No, he won’t.” Tempest walked right up to the dragon and faced him. “Thorne,” she said authoritatively, “be good. Put your head down so Rebel can kiss you.”

He somehow made his dragon face look sulky and resentful, but surprisingly he obeyed, lowering his head until it was right in front of them. He didn’t even try to bite them.

“What are you, the dragon whisperer?” she said to her sister.

“I love dragons. Everybody knows that. Now kiss him.”

“This is stupid. I do not love him. I will never love him. He’s a fucking dragon. A crazy one.”

Thorne’s dragon made a soft, inquiring noise, and moved his head lower. Rebel stared at him. “You actually want me to do this?”

The dragon blinked at her, and made a tiny sound that was almost like a purr.

She looked back at the others. “If I kiss him, will he leave?”

Both the other guys shrugged and spread their hands out. Great. Clueless, every last one of them.

Well, unless she wanted a dragon in her yard forever, it didn’t seem like she had a choice. She edged up to the huge scaly head.

She thought he’d smell like sulfur and burned wood, but he smelled spicy and warm. Not too bad. He seemed suddenly pitiful—angry and frustrated and somehow lonely underneath.

Sort of like her.

Crap. Now she was identifying with the rabid dragon.

She leaned over, squinched her face up, and pecked him on the side of his head just above his eye ridge.

There was a faint humming in the air, like the final chord of a choir just dying away, and she felt a sudden warmth spread from her lips down into her chest.

With a shimmer and a huge intake of air like a giant taking a breath, the dragon disappeared and a man was standing in its place.

He was tall, half a head taller than Rebel’s six feet, his dark hair mussed. He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt with blood beginning to seep through it from the wound in his chest. His right hand was also bloody, and covered in cuts from her knife.

He was possibly the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen. And the most arrogant.

He folded his arms, glaring at her. “Well? Where’s the Seal?”

That was it? No, ‘thanks for returning my sanity’ or ‘sorry I trashed your yard and tried to abduct you’?

She glared back. “I don’t know.”

He blew out a sigh. “Fuck.” He pushed past everyone and stomped across the yard toward the front of the house and the street.

At least he was leaving.

“You’re paying to get this yard fixed up,” Rebel yelled after him. “And if you ever try anything like this again, I’m going to shoot you in the balls with my magic gun.”

Thorne stomped away out of sight around the house, ignoring her.

“Asshole,” she muttered. She turned to the others. “I think it’s time you left, too.”