Page 24 of Fated for his Flame

I expected the air to go out of Mattias at the threat, for him to back down and grovel. Well, maybe not grovel, he was a dragon after all, but to at least act properly chastised.

Instead, he laughed.

“The time is coming, Silas, when our positions will be reversed. Be careful who you step on.”

Then he was gone, down the steps and out onto the street without another word. I caught Silas’ eye. “You going to go after him?”

“No,” he said easily. “Good riddance.”

“Just letting him get the last word like that?”

Now it was Silas’ turn to laugh. “I’ll be well and dead before Mattias’ dream ever comes true, I promise you that. He knows he was out of line.”

“You don’t think maybe you pushed a little too hard? Or is that what it means to live among dragons?”

Silas grunted a negative, jerking his head for me to go inside. He followed closely, straying into my personal space in a way that made me dream of him stepping up and wrapping his hands around my waist. Pulling me back against him and—

“Oh, my,” I said, my dirty thoughts interrupted by the wave of bright, shiny clothing arrayed in front of me in a number of colors. “Now, that’s pretty.”

I had worn all sorts of outfits over the years. From designer dresses and handbags to scraps of clothing that shed all hint of modesty and everything in between. Usually more of the rags than the riches. But I definitely preferred the fancy life.

“Jennsen has the best selection,” Silas said. “If we can’t find anything here, then you’re the problem.”

“Trust me, we’re going to have no problems!” I exclaimed leaning against his side with a laugh. “It’s all so pretty.”

It wasn’t until I was pulling away from him I realized what I’d done. It wasn’t planned or purposeful as part of my cover. At the moment, the contact and closeness felt natural. Had been natural. I’d wanted to do it.

“They look similar,” I remarked as my gaze ran along the racks.

“Most of them are glanis. Traditional wear of women,” Silas explained, pulling one at random and showing me how it worked and was worn.

“Lots of skin showing,” I said. “Are you sure this is normal? You aren’t just trying to get a glimpse of my legs?”

One half of Silas’ mouth curved upward in the most wicked smile I’d seen on him yet. “If that’s what I wanted, I think I could find another way to make it happen,” he purred, eyes ablaze.

My mouth dried, and I struggled to find a response to such a blunt, insinuating comment. Had we crossed some sort of barrier I wasn’t aware of? A line we’d both been tiptoeing along had just been breached. How did I respond?

The fact his words could muddle my brain and turn me into a statue despite all my training was saved by the approach of an older man. He still stood tall and proud, perhaps an inch below Silas’ towering height, but there was a little stoop to his shoulders, and he moved slower and without the stalking grace most of the dragons I’d seen to date possessed.

“Jennsen,” Silas exclaimed, stepping forward to embrace the elder dragon affectionately. “Good to see you.”

“And you, Silas.” Jennsen turned his eyes on me, deep pools of royal blue with a surprising alertness to them. His body might be slowing, but his mind was still razor sharp, I could see it.

One thing I’d become good at over the years was reading people. I made a note to work on doing the same with dragons and learning how they were different. It was a skill that had proved invaluable dozens of times over, and I had no doubts it would be double with dragons.

“What have we here,” the shop owner said as he looked me over from head to toe. Unlike when Silas did it, his gaze was all professional. “A human? I’d heard rumors but …” He looked sharply at Silas.

“She needs to be properly dressed,” Silas said.

Jennsen grinned at the free rein implied in his tone. Without asking permission, he stepped up to me, looking my body over with the analytical experience of someone who had done it a million times. His gray hair bounced left and right as he examined me from all angles.

“This one,” he said, reaching through some outfits and pulling out one at seeming random. It was a deep purple that lightened ever so slightly in swirling waves, a pattern that repeated itself around the outfit, vertical instead of horizontal.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Of course it is, dear,” Jennsen clucked, hangers clinking as he dug in, making noises of approval or disdain. Eventually, he pulled out a second number. It had more ripples in the fabric and more fabric as well, giving it a slightly poofier look. The blue was even throughout, a dark navy number that nonetheless still shone in the light.

He proceeded to pick out several other numbers for me, including a beautiful forest green, a black that screamed little black dress to my untrained eye, and finally, after being told by Silas I needed one “to wear to Aram’s tonight,” a crimson red that had a longer train than most. As I looked closer, I could see tiny lines of black swirling across it, giving it a hidden layer of depth.

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