Page 64 of Dragon’s Rebel

“You dare to malign my mate’s honor?” Tyr was grinning now.

Tempest picked up on her cue. She put her hand to her heart. “Tyr!”

He slid to one knee in front of her, his arms spread wide. “You called, milady?”

Tempest did a wide-eyed princess simper, clutching her hands. Rebel snorted. Tempest said wickedly, “I’ve been grievously wounded and insulted. Will you be my champion and defend my honor?”

She pulled a paper napkin out of her pocket and handed it to him. “I give you my token.”

Thorne rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

Tyr clutched it to his heart in an exaggerated gesture. “What do you wish?”

Tempest pointed at Blaze. “Take the varlet’s nachos!”

“No!” Blaze squealed, grabbing her nachos off the table. “Not the nachos. Anything but the nachos!”

Tyr put his hand out imperiously and levitated the nachos.

“Oh, hell,” Thorne muttered. Rebel heard him casting a blurring spell to keep other bowlers from seeing nachos floating through the air under their own power.

But she also saw a grin curving the corner of his mouth. He was enjoying this. Seeing Thorne having fun made the center of her chest feel warm.

Blaze threw her own power against Tyr’s, and the nachos began to return to her.

“Fie on you!” Tyr pulled them toward him again. Blaze retaliated, and the plastic basket hovered in mid-air, trembling.

“You shall not defeat me!” Tyr cried out.

Blaze winked at Rebel. The nachos moved slowly toward Tyr. When they were right next to him, Blaze threw all her power against his.

Caught between two equal forces, the basket of nachos exploded, covering Tyr in shards of broken chips, bits of salsa, and cheese sauce. Rebel, Blaze and Zane collapsed in laughter.

Thorne was laughing too. Rebel caught her breath. Happy Thorne was flat-out stunning.

Tyr turned to Tempest, who had given up looking princess-y and was obviously trying not to laugh. “Milady, I have failed in my quest,” he said mournfully. He cocked his head and looked suddenly hopeful. “Unless you want to lick them off me?”

Tempest giggled. “Pass,” she said. “But you can still be my champion. You fought valiantly.” She waved her hand. “You may keep my token.”

“I’d rather be lickable,” Tyr said. Tempest, full of pink drinks, stood on tiptoe and licked a cheese-covered piece of nacho off his cheek. Somehow it ended up being a full kiss, lasting way longer than Rebel thought it should.

She cleared her throat warningly.

“Relax,” Thorne said. “She’s his mate. He’d never take advantage of her, drunk or not.”

“What about you?” Rebel said. “Would you take advantage of me?”

Thorne smiled slowly. “You already said I could, if I won.” The smile got bigger. “And if you win, you get to take advantage of me.” He paused, thinking. “So I guess I win either way.”

It went down to the wire. Rebel made a comeback, mostly by distracting Thorne with kisses just before every frame. She only lost on the very last throw, where she might have accidentally stumbled and missed her aim just a little, so she lost by two pins.

She blamed the pink drinks.

All the way home, she was conscious of his sultry, smoldering presence in the seat next to hers, just waiting to ignite.

Tempest was leaning on Tyr and giggling, picking the occasional crumb of nacho chip out of his hair. He’d changed his shirt under cover of a blurring spell, but he still had a few nacho remnants lurking here and there.

He didn’t seem to mind.