Page 29 of Hot for the Dragon

"What thing?"

"Making everything prettier than it needs to be."

"Maybe some things deserve to be pretty." She gestured to the town spread before them, where people were still working together to clean up after the attack. "Look at them. Really look."

The late afternoon sun painted everything in honey-gold light, highlighting the determination on people's faces as they helped their neighbors. Outside the bakery, Mr. Peterson shared fresh bread with those who'd lost their homes. Near the fountain, a group of teenage witches created magical barriers around damaged buildings.

"These are the people you're protecting from Carmen," Daphne said softly. "Not just the buildings or the businesses. Real people with real lives."

Archer shifted, his shoulder brushing hers. "I know what people are, Daphne."

"Do you? Because you've spent an awful lot of time hiding from them." She turned to face him. "That little girl with the flowers? Her mom runs the bookstore where I used to read during lunch breaks. The man you helped with the boxes? He gives free coffee to students during finals week."

"Are you trying to make me care about every person in town?" His voice held its usual gruffness, but something softer lurked beneath.

"Maybe I'm trying to make you remember what it's like to be a part of something bigger than yourself." She created another tiny flower, this time offering it to him. "Even the scariest dragon in town needs connection."

"I'm not-" he started to protest, but she cut him off with a laugh.

"Oh please, you've been brooding and flexing all day. Own it." She nudged his ribs playfully. "But I've seen through your act now. You actually enjoy helping people, don’t you?"

"I enjoy solving problems," he corrected, but accepted the flower with surprising gentleness. "People are usually the problem."

"And yet here you are, sitting on a bench with one."

He smirked as he looked at her. "You're particularly annoying."

"Thank you," she beamed, meeting his gaze. "I try my best."

The sun painted golden streaks across Archer's sharp features, and Daphne found her gaze drawn to the way it caught in his auburn hair. She turned and quickly looked away, pretending to be fascinated by a nearby dandelion. With a subtle wave of her fingers, she coaxed it to bloom, its yellow petals unfurling in the warm light.

From the corner of her eye, she caught him watching her. His dark eyes lingered for a moment before darting away when she shifted on the bench. The wood creaked beneath them, and she noticed how he'd positioned himself - taking up space with his broad shoulders, one arm stretched along the back of the bench behind her.

"Your magic," he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. "It's not just about making things pretty, is it?"

Daphne's heart skipped at the unexpected observation. "No, it's about bringing life back to places that need it." She traced her finger along the bench's arm, leaving a trail of tiny white flowers in its wake. "Like today - sometimes people need to see beauty can return after destruction."

He made a noncommittal sound, but she noticed his posture soften slightly. The fierce dragon shifter who'd spent the day helping the townspeople seemed different from the gruff hermit who'd first opened his door to her. There was a gentleness in him that peeked through the cracks of his carefully maintained walls.

"You keep doing that," she said before she could stop herself.

"Doing what?" His voice rumbled low, almost defensive.

"Looking at me when you think I won't notice." The words tumbled out with a playful lilt that surprised even her. Heat crept up her neck as his intense gaze finally met hers directly.

"You've been doing the same thing," he countered, one eyebrow arching in challenge.

Daphne laughed, the sound carrying on the breeze. "Maybe I'm trying to figure you out." She held his gaze. "Because I think under all that brooding and those impressive muscles, there's someone who actually cares quite a lot."

"The sun's almost down," he said as he stood up quickly.

14

ARCHER

The setting sun painted streaks of orange and purple across the sky as Daphne's words hit too close to home.

"The sun's almost down," Archer said, standing up quickly from the wooden bench. His muscles tensed, uncomfortable with how easily she seemed to read him.

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