Page 12 of Rescued By The Dragon

I shrugged. “Because I think this is a huge fabrication of my mind. You’re planting seeds of unrealistic fantasies in my head, and it’s unfair—,”

“Oh, cut the crap,” she said, slicing her hand through the air. “Why do you think he came? Did you see him?”

“No,” I said, sliding out of my t-shirt. “There was a new mannequin in my room last night, and we both know the step-monster didn’t get it for me. They were out of town anyway.”

She lifted both brows and gestured for me to turn around. She helped me into the dress and buttoned me up in the back. "He noticed you needed a new one. Dude is totally into you."

I nibbled on my lower trying not to take Sasha's words too seriously.

She slid her palms down the lace of my sleeves and turned me toward the mirror. The waist was a little big, but nothing I couldn’t adjust myself.

“You look amazing,” she said, pulling my hair up to see the plunging neckline.

“I can’t wear this—,”

“You’re gonna wear it. This dress is perfect for you.”

I eyed myself slowly, the lace was revealing, yet covered everything, and the silk skirt clung enough to show my shape, but covered enough that I didn’t feel like a flashing neon light.

The low-cut front highlighted my cleavage, and the color brightened my skin as if it were meant for me.

“Maybe ...”

“Definitely,” Sasha said, grabbing my shoulders, she turned me to face her. “I want you to go to the ball, Amara. I want you to go and dance with The Dragon Prince, let him wine and dine you. Let him get to know you. Don’t shy away. I need you to get out of that house, and he’s your way.”

I turned my gaze down toward my feet. “I can’t use him, Sasha—,”

“You’re not. He is interested in you. You go and show him how interesting you are.”

I chuckled. “I’m not interesting. I live in my stepmother’s attic and I’m twenty-five. I have to hide my classes. I can’t leave because of my inability to live alone, and I take medication. I’m not his type.”

“Maybe let him be the judge of that?”

I smiled and leaned in to hug Sasha. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Sis,” she whispered. “Now. Let’s find some jewelry, and get out of here before my sister comes home.”

“You didn’t ask her?” I gawked.

“I did, but I promised I would be out of her apartment before she got back with David. They need their privacy,” she said, crossing her eyes.

When I got back home, there was a note from my stepmother saying they’d gone to the restaurant for dinner, and then to the seamstress to have their dresses altered.

I knew they wouldn’t ask what I was wearing, or even consider me a contender, which made it easier on me. I slid my fingers down the dress draped over my forearm as I walked up the stairs to my room.

Stasa had a line of clothes littering the floor from her room to her bathroom. I picked them up, knowing I’d have to do it tomorrow if I didn’t.

A gentle breeze brushed my skin as I bent over to gather the last item of clothing. I jerked up and glanced over my shoulder. My door was cracked, which wasn’t too strange, but the air didn’t settle well with me.

I knew I hadn't left my window open.

I tossed Stasa’s clothing into her hamper, walked down the hall, and tiptoed into my room. The air I felt was gone, my window was shut, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Flipping the light on, a scream ripped from me, fear sliding down my body, immobilizing me.

He was there.

Standing right there in the corner of my bedroom. All six foot seven inches of him. One boot was tucked behind the other, his shoulder pressed against the wall, and his emerald green eyes bright and intent on me.

---