Page 41 of Don't Fae With Dragons

Cory is supposed to pick me up from my chambers any minute now. I’m to join Max, Port, and him for dinner – it’sthe first time Cory actually invited to dine with the three of them together.

Despite my best efforts to convince myself it’s not a big deal, that they’re just three randommen, they’re not anyone important ... I’m horribly nervous. Terrified, almost. Not just of them, but of myself, strangely.

When I’m with these three dragon shifters, it’s like something comes over me. I don’t feel like the nervous, pitiful, sexless Milica I’ve always been; I feel powerful, sensual,strong. Each of the shifters brings out a new part of me, and I can’t decide yet whether or not I like it.

With Port, I feel romantic and enticing, like someone worth fawning over, worth cherishing. When we met, I had this sense I’d known him for ages, like we were slipping back into a rhythm we’d had for years and years. I get the sense I’d fit into him like a puzzle piece, like someone falling back into place –like he’d mold himself into something else just to help me fit better. Not that I’d ask him to, of course, but it’s nice to imagine someone going to those lengths just to comfort me, please me, or seduce me.

Max is different from Port, but our connection is strong, too. I’ve probably spoken with him the least out of all the shifters, but that makes him just that much more mysterious to me. He’s clever, that’s for sure, and has a dry sense of humor, but he seems to hold a lot of strange baggage as well. Him and his so-called “killer instincts,” his total conviction that he’s more trouble than he’s worth. It makes me want to shake some sense into him, to show him that Iseewhat he’s worth, even now, so early into our companionship.

Then there’s Cory. Cory and I – I don’t even know where to begin. He’s handsome, yes, but there’s more to it than that. He’s magnetic to me; whenever we’re in a room together I feel physically pulled to him, drawn to be by his side. The sight of him while we’re training, of his muscles straining, his brows furrowing, little beads of sweat dripping off his hair, it’s almost unbearable.

There are the quiet moments, too, when he comes to check on me in my chambers, or when he first healed me. Still, even in the silence, there’s always a dangerous undercurrent of heat, passion,fire. I know it’s only a matter of time before we can’t resist each other any more. It’s tempting to give in, but I’m terrified that once I give myself to him, I’ll never be able to tear myself away again.

With Aurora, my old partner, I didn’t feel this way. I felt her possessiveness and desire to please me, sure, but I didn’t feel trulycaredfor. Maybe that’s not fair to her, but it is how I’ve been feeling, for a long time, now. I can’t deny, either, that with all the shifters our raw chemistry is a lot better than it was with Aurora (or Kar, for that matter).

At the thought of Kar, a chill runs through me, and I shiver. I haven’t let myself think of him since I arrived at the volcano, really. I pushed all thoughts of him –and the rough, rushed sex we had –deep, deep within me. When I think about him, I cringe and I don’t feel safe, like he’s still around, still watching me, ready to hurt me.

It’s the worst at night, when the Moon trickles through the sheer curtains hanging from the gap in the wall that serves as my window. It’s curved, like the windows in the main dining chamber, so I can’t see out, but I feel the moonlight breathing as it bleeds into the room.

The white light spills over the stony floor, ricocheting off the basalt up to the ceiling and the walls. I feel Kar in the light, somehow, watching me, sensing me. As I start to dwell on it, on him, for the first time in weeks, there are three sharp knocks on my door.

“Oh, thank the Realm,” I gasp out as I run to the door.

I open the door, a bit more forcefully than I meant to, and see not just Cory, but all three of the shifters waiting on me. My eyes dart between the three of them, and I start to grin.

Cory stands there in his usual dark attire contrasting his pale skin and light hair. His fitted long tunic hugs his toned physique and accentuates his broad shoulders. The subtle gold embroidery along his cuffs and collar catches the light, emphasizing the defined lines of his chest. He leans casually against the wall, his black leather boots grounding him in effortless confidence.

Port is wearing a blue silk kimono that fits him perfectly, highlighting his athletic build. Only Port can manage to pulloff such a laid-back yet sophisticated vibe. He looks effortlessly cool. Max also looks dangerously handsome in his fitted dark red shirt that clings to his sculpted torso, complemented by rugged trousers and sturdy boots. These dragon men are ready to conquer.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” I ask with a wink.

Max and Cory roll their eyes, but Port smiles back at me, “We really couldn’t. You look beautiful.”

I blush at the compliment, not expecting a genuine remark right off the cuff. I look down to brush my dress off, and sudden becomeveryaware that I’m wearing one of the gowns that match my eyes, that Cory chose just for me. The fabric is so thin my nipples poke through slightly, and the hollow of my belly button is visible.

I bite my lip, deeply shy now, and lift my apprehensive gaze to see Cory staring at me, eyes wide and face flushed. Seeing how nervous he is gives me a strange sort of confidence, and I quickly break back into a brave smile. He shakes his head at me and breaks into a smirk of his own, and Max clears his throat.

“Alright you two, get a room,” he groans.

Cory punches him in the shoulder, but I laugh, any anxiety suddenly dispelled at the sight of the three of them together. It’s good to be around them, I realize, and I feel myself genuinely wishing to be included in their little group.

As Max rubs his shoulder with a wince, Cory rolls his eyes. “Shall we?” he asks as he holds an arm out to me.

I nod and let my hand wrap around his elbow, but it feels ... different than the last time we walked like this. It’selectric this time. I’m wearing what he got me; he knows it, I know it, and Port and Max can probably tell, too.

It’s almost like I’m his.

–––

I’m sitting between Max and Port, facing Cory, and the night is joyful. Conversation flows easily between the four of us, with each man taking moments to flirt with me in their own way. The three of them seem to have some understanding, though, and don’t tense as the others banter with me. Even Cory seems to accept it, which surprised me; he didn’t strike me as someone who’d be willing to “share” but I was wrong.

His eyes on me make my heart pound, and I have to take breaks to laugh at Max’s teasing or smile at Port’s sweetness. Despite my best efforts not to, I find myself wondering what it would be like to become a mess of tangled limbs with each of them – or even altogether.

I’ve had three glasses of blackberry wine (which isalmostas good as Port told me) when the topic shifts to something I’m not prepared for: Ethelinda.

“Well,” Port says, twirling his wine glass in his hand, “I see no need to return home. Not now, anyway. We’ve formed a pack, Cory’s saved our asses –twice, mind you –and I’ve never felt safer.”

“Or happier, for that matter,” Max chimes in.

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