Page 37 of So I Dared a Dragon

The timing gave her a moment to think about it. Bibi might be fabulous and have a perfectly planned look for every occasion, but her poker face could still use some work.

“I wouldn’t have invited you on if I wasn’t up to the challenge,” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer to her as we approached the door. Her body stiffened. “Stay with me.”

She kept a firm grip on my arm as we moved across the lawn, into the backyard. The motion light blinked on, revealing that we were alone.

After a check of the back door to make sure it was locked, she let go of me and opened the door. She entered the house andtook off her stilettos at the door like it had been just another day at the office.

My heart was about to jump out of my throat. “What was that all about?”

“Just a check,” she said, fluffing out her hair. “The security team is busy, but I won’t let that make us an easy target. I’m going to get into my pajamas and put on the kettle. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Sure.” I could barely manage the word through my astonishment. Moments ago I thought she was about to go full wolf mode, and now she was talking about getting cozy. I watched her for a minute before heading to the spare boudoir. Bibi was nothing if not fascinating, and her rituals were giving me peace after that scare. She filled the kettle and gave a little water to the potted herbs on her windowsill, humming to herself softly before heading into her bedroom.

Once I was in the spare boudoir, I leaned against the door for a moment to collect my thoughts. Bibi had made this a sanctuary. It was cozy and purple, and she’d truly created a glam fantasy. From the marbled wall mural to the purple bedding, the silver velvet quilted headboard, the chandelier, and the fuzzy throw blankets and pillows, Bibi’s touch was on every detail. There was a diffuser with lavender essential oil and an alarm clock that could mimic the sunrise.

The room matched Aarix like she knew he was coming for me. I pictured him in here, caging me against the door with his big, warm body, running a knuckle softly over my check before whispering filthy suggestions in my ear.

The way my lady parts pulsed like they were applauding that little fantasy was no surprise. It was their usual response to any thoughts of the dragon. But what I didn’t expect was the way the artwork on my arm warmed, like he’d been here to breathe fire and bring it to life.

I pushed up my sleeve to admire it one last time. The scales had surprisingly remained perfect. It was such a shame to have to wash it off. I would’ve tried to keep it, but it would never survive the night. Not only was I a sweaty middle-aged lady, I slept with that arm curled under the pillow.

So I peeled off my clothes and got into my jammies. Pulled my hair up into a bun and headed into the bathroom. Since I’d been here, I’d started a ritual, using the thick, creamy makeup removers, the indulgent masks and moisturizers that required a mini fridge for storage, the face rollers that I wasn’t sure made a difference but were so, so satisfying to use, and the finishing mist.

Moments later, I was just plain old Calista again. With a dragon tattoo.

With a sigh that was far too dramatic considering my lack of audience, I dropped a dollop of makeup remover onto the design. Reluctantly, I pulled a fresh black facecloth from the top of the pile and started to scrub.

It didn’t budge.

Weird. I gave it a little more effort, and my skin warmed—not from the friction, but like actual flames had licked it. I pulled the cloth away.

Nothing. Not even the glitter had transferred onto it.

I remembered Bibi telling me that I had to use specific removers for certain types of makeups. She’d given me a whole education on how to use the myriad of products in here. It was possible that the one I chose wasn’t compatible with the watercolors and the glitter.

What had she said? Like removed like. That had been easy enough to remember. Turning on the faucet, I positioned my forearm under the spray. It should’ve dissolved the watercolor parts of it.

I opened the cabinet and pulled out every makeup remover—oil-free, waterproof, wipes…none of them made a difference. There was a bottle of pure acetone for nail polish, and I dabbed some of that onto a wad of toilet paper. Surely that would do the trick.

The scales looked just as perfect as they had when Aarix freshly completed it. Raising my arm, I could hardly believe my eyes. It was like they had become part of my skin—no, more like scales had blossomed up and down my forearm. I ran my finger over the design and stifled a scream.

I went out to the living room to find Bibi in her leopard-print satin jammies with a mud mask on her face. She was in front of her laptop—she might have told me to let the security team and dragons do their work, but she was right back in it. A mug of tea steamed beside her.

“I made you a cup. I know how much you like the mint chocolate chip flavor,” she said, and her eyes widened when she looked up. “You look like you saw a ghost. Is everything okay?”

“I…don’t know how to answer that.” I sank into the chair next to her with an awkward thud and held up my arm. “Does this feel weird to you?”

The mud cracked as she furrowed her brow, giving my arm a closer examination. She tapped her finger against it and jumped back like she’d gotten too close to a hot stove.

“Is that the paint?” she asked. “It feels like they’re really scales.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just tried every single makeup remover I had to wash it off, plain soap and water, and it didn’t budge. And it’s warm.”

“Yes, it is.” She couldn’t take her eyes off my arm.

“Let’s call Aarix,” I suggested.

“Maybe we should wait until morning?” Bibi sounded uncharacteristically unsure of herself. “Just in case it’s a flukeand you wake up to a bare arm. And Aarix is probably scale-deep in security footage.”

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