Page 35 of Dragon Prince of New York

Pulling off the lid, I find a brand new acrylic paint set. My favorite brand too. I search the box for a card or some sign of who it’s from. There’s nothing.

As the only other person in the house, Cyrus must have put it here, but that doesn’t mean it’s from him.

I tuck the precious paints under my arm and pad downstairs to put them away. I don’t make it to the studio, because there’s another, much larger, present at the bottom of thestairs.

It’s wrapped in the same paper, and again, no card.

A pottery wheel!Who the fuck knew I’ve always wanted one? I’ve only mentioned it to old classmates and maybe Sora. With as much as I move, it never seemed practical to get one for myself.

“I noticed you didn’t have one,” Cyrus says from behind me. “You have almost every other artistic medium possible, and I thought…”

“You got me these?” I nod to the pottery wheel and hold the box of paints to my heart, staring slack-jawed at the enigmatic man before me.

“And this.” He pulls another box from behind his back.

My fingers brush his as I take it, and the slight contact sets off a chain reaction that has me clenching my thighs. I try to ignore the electricity between us so I can focus on the gift, but my head is a little fuzzy when he steps close, hovering over me as my shaking fingers wrestle with the precise wrapping. He smells like smoked chocolate and bad decisions. I blink and sway towards him involuntarily.

His hand lands on my elbow, steadying me. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed. You didn’t have to do this.Did Jess put you up to it? She has this crazy idea that twenty-three is important, kind of like someone else I know.”

“It is important,” Cyrus says.

“Why?”

He leans in, lips tickling my ear. “Because today’s the day I make you mine.”

“Like you really want that,” I huff, shaking out of his hold and rolling my eyes.

“I do want that.” He steps forward, encroaching on my retreat, and backing me deeper the living room. “I want you to be mine more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in the world. Didn’t you feel it when I kissed you? When I had my hands on you? My tongue inside you?”

I shake my head, trying to clear the images. I spent most of the night chastising myself for giving in to Cyrus. And I won’t do it again.

“It doesn’t matter what I felt when you were… doing those things. It matters what I felt the moment someone else was around, and all those times you pushed me away when there was absolutely no reason.”

“There was a reason.” He takes another step forward as I take another step back. My thighs bump the back of the couch. “Itold you I couldn’t be with you until your birthday.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe that you’re going to be all in now, after being hot and cold for weeks.” I shake my head. “I won’t let you toy with me, Cyrus. Not today. Not ever again.”

“I’m not playing, Finley.” He leans closer, and I arch my back over the couch to keep some space between us. His eyes spark. “I’m not holding back anymore. You’re of legal age now, and I’m not letting you go ever again.”

“I think your math is off there, asshole.” I raise my eyebrows and shove his chest. He doesn’t budge. “I’ve been of legal age for a good long time.”

“Not for us.”

The same bullshit reason he gave before. “What us? Who? Why?!”

Before he can answer, the doorbell rings. Cyrus takes the excuse to evade my questions about how weird they’re all being about this twenty-three thing and goes to the door. Feet stomping in frustration, I take the paints into my studio.

“…take Finley to breakfast? Like hell you are!” Cyrus’s voice is loud enough to carry through the lower level of the apartment and he doesn’t sound happy.

“Crap.” I hurry to the front door and stop a foot behind Cyrus. I won’t make the mistake of touching him again.

He grips the door like he's ready to slam it in the poor guy’s face.

“Hi, I’m Finley.” I awkwardly wave as I duck under Cyrus’s arm and step in front of him, still careful not to touch him.

The man, whose name I still haven’t gotten, gives me an appreciative appraisal, and Cyrus makes a rumbling noise that’s so much like a growl I jump.

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