Page 3 of His Fate

When Ronny turns back to me his eyes go wide and this time I smell the sharp stench of fear. Which is when I realize I'm growling, actually fucking growling, and baring my teeth. My teeth that are nothing like the average male’s because I have fucking fangs on the top and bottom of my mouth. Fangs that are ever present, though hardly noticeable unless you are looking for them, and they most definitelyshould notbe bared at pimply-faced teenagers trying to take coffee orders.

"Uh… um, did-did you decide on what you'd like?"

Pushing down the beast and trying to act a little more human, I shake my head. "I just want a large black coffee."

"But I still need to know—"

"Ask him what he usually drinks," the brunette whispers as she elbows Ronny. "Remember what I taught you?" She quickly and very efficiently continues taking care of the other customers, filling orders and calling out names while ringing them up.

Ronny nods firmly but when he looks back at me his confidence waivers. "What do you usually drink? Like, what kind of coffee do you make at home?"

The brunette smiles at him warmly, pats him on the back as she breezes by, my eyes tracking her movements while the overwhelming urge to punch Ronny in the throat rises up from the pit of my stomach.

I don't like her smiling at him.

I don't like her touching him.

Which is absolutely fucking ridiculous because he's just a child and is in no way a threat to me or what's mine.

Not that the brunette is mine.

She is. She is ours,my dragon growls from somewhere deep inside my mind.She. Is. Ours.

Fuck.

I shake my head. "I drink whatever is in the cupboard at home."

Ronny frowns "Do you… uh—"

"I bet you like your coffee strong," the brunette says, her small, delicate hands spraying some white foamy shit over the tops of two coffees that appear to have ice in them.

Who the fuck puts ice in their coffee? Doesn't that defeat the purpose? Taint the potency of the caffeine by watering it down the same way cream and sugar do? I do not understand this at all.

Next time he breaks the coffee machine, Milos is putting on pants and driving into town to deal with this insanity himself.

She flashes me a smile and goes back to the task at hand but does a double take. The minute her bright green eyes—eyes like two sparkling emeralds encased in the darkest lashes—connect with mine, they flash in some sort of subconscious recognition and her scent becomes so strong it almost knocks me on my ass. She looks me up and down appreciatively, pride swelling in my chest, my dragon preening with a snort and shake of his head, and I can see her pulse flutter under the soft, creamy skin of her throat.

My lip twitches, the corner turns up ever so slightly and when I give her the faintest hint of a knowing smile, she blushes a beautiful crimson color and shoots the white shit all over the counter.

"Damnit!" She scolds herself then grabs a rag. "Give him a venti black French roast, Ronny."

My stare stays locked on this woman as she cleans up her mess, her movements fast but precise. She whispers derogatory things to herself, something about “staying on task” and not “ogling a hot stranger.” That makes me smile, inwardly of course, but still. Knowing this little firecracker of a woman is pleased with my appearance makes me want to puff out my chest and flex my biceps to show off for her.

And I really want to do it naked.

Both of us.

I want to show off for her while we are both very naked.

"Can I get a name for your coffee, sir?"

Still staring at the woman even though she's now at the other end of the counter calling out names, I say to Ronny, "Kai."

"Kai..." He arches a brow and hesitates before scribbling something on the side of the paper cup. "Can I get you anything else?"

Deciding I'm not quite ready to leave, I look over the case filled with fresh pastries and various other baked goods. "What do you recommend to pair with my coffee?"

I motion to the case, eyes returning to the woman before I meet Ronny's terrified expression.

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