Page 48 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

“Both. So are you looking to stoke your manliness with action/adventure, or are you willing to expose your utterly sentimental side?”

“Being sentimental is manly too,” Tristan said. “Where have you been for the last thirty years?”

“Cool. Then we can watch a chick flick.”

Tristan narrowed his eyes. “I think I just got suckered. I hope you at least brought the snacks.”

“If you use the term loosely.”

Trish put her warm six-pack on the table and emptied her carry bag. It contained a couple of mini bags of cheese puffs and a dozen individually wrapped sticks of beef jerky.

“Seriously?” Tristan said. “This is possibly the worst collection of movie snacks in the known universe.”

Trish shrugged and sat down on the loveseat. “Talk to Mina. She’s the one who made the supply lists, and totally ignored the snack factor.”

“I’m sure this will be fine,” Mayah said politely. She picked up a package of beef jerky and sniffed it, looking dubious. “Um. Is this food?”

Tristan just shook his head. “Here. Have a warm beer.”

Trish was reaching for one when she caught a faint scent outside the door. Dragon. Hot, smoky, leather-clad dragon. And…

Popcorn?

Delicious, buttery popcorn. No way.

She saw Tristan’s head go up, his nostrils flaring. Then the door banged open and a voice said, “I heard there was a movie party. Hope I’m not late. Did I miss anything?”

And Emon walked into the room. With one arm wrapped around a huge bowl of popcorn, and two six-packs of beer tucked under the other. Ice-cold beer—Trish could see the condensation running down the side.

“Damn,” she said. “You’re my hero.”

He grinned at her. Tristan’s mouth was twitching—she wasn’t sure if it was amusement, annoyance, or the sight of the beer.

Emon stopped next to the couch. “Get the beer, Elf Lord.”

Tristan pulled the six-packs out from under his arm. The popcorn bowl was nested inside another one, and Emon pulled them apart, poured half the popcorn into the second one, and set it ostentatiously on the couch—between Tristan and Mayah.

So not subtle. Trish bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

Then he grabbed one six-pack and came and sat down on the loveseat beside her, setting the other bowl of popcorn in her lap. He pulled a beer out of the six-pack, and opened it with and an honest-to-god tacky-as-hell bottle opener ring on his middle finger. He handed it to Trish.

“Where in god’s name did you get that ring?” Trish asked, fascinated.

“Christmas present from Xander.”

Trish rolled her eyes. “Of course it was.”

“What?” Emon said. “Someone had to teach me the ways of Earth shifters.”

Tristan snorted. “And you’re relying on Xander Fierro for that? He’s a homicidal nutcase with a perverted mind. Kira must be laughing her ass off.”

“Why?” Emon said. “He taught me about beer, football, bottle top flicking, and internet porn. What more do I need to know?”

“Not to get too full of yourself?” Mayah suggested.

“No way is Xander going to teach me that. Plus, I’m a prince. I’m pretty sure princes can’t get overly full of ourselves, on account of how fucking important we are.”

Mayah rolled her eyes. “At least Kira and Flynn gave us the mini-fridge and the microwave.”