Page 48 of A Witch and Her Dragon
In my peripheral vision, I see her reach over and place a hand on his. My dragon thrashes against my bones. I fight not to let my struggle show on my face.
“Of course,” Tristan says. “I’m glad.” He pushes a hand through his mop of brown hair, and his smell makes me want to wrinkle my nose unpleasantly.
There’s something about him that sets my teeth on edge. His smell, the sound of his voice, the way he’s sitting way too close to the princess...
“Oh!” Alina sounds unlike herself, too giddy, her voice pitched slightly higher than usual. “I don’t think you’ve met Raelan, have you?”
“No.” Tristan shakes his head, then turns to regard me, as if just noticing I’m sitting right beside him. “I’m Tristan Colbrook.” He holds out a hand.
I stare at it coolly. A long-enough moment passes that he glances back at Alina questioningly. But she’s looking at me, blue eyes challenging. Is this some sort of game to her? Watching me struggle like this?
I won’t let them win.
Shoving my hand into Tristan’s, I give it a firm shake. “Sir Raelan Ashvale.”
“Good to meet you,” he says.
I tighten my grip. Slowly, the expression on his face shifts as he no doubt notices the crushing strength of my hand in his, his bones protesting against my tightening hold.
“Likewise,” I say, giving him a pleasant smile. At least, I try to make it pleasant. It might look more like a snarl.
Behind him, Alina narrows her eyes at me.
Tristan keeps a smile on his face as he yanks his hand from mine, attempting to disguise how he rubs it uncomfortably with the other and flexes his fingers as if trying to determine if they still work properly.
Good. I hope it hurts. It’ll remind him to—
“Raelan,” Alina says, “would you mind getting us some of those toasted pecans? I’ve been dying to try them.”
She’s trying to irritate me. It’s growing more obvious by the moment.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” I say, adopting my cold professional tone. “I’m not permitted to leave your side. But perhaps Mr. Colbrook would be willing.” My eyes flash to his.
Alina opens her mouth, probably to argue, but Tristan quickly says, “Sure, I’d be happy to.” He pushes to his feet, much too eager for my liking. “I’ll be right back.”
I deliberately don’t move, making it more difficult for him to slink past me. Once he’s out of earshot, Alina narrows her eyes at me and hisses, “What’s the matter with you?”
I sit up straighter. “I told you before, I don’t trust him.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Why? He hasn’t done a single thing to draw your suspicion.”
I can’t argue with her—not without having to tell her that I haven’t quite determined why Tristan sets me so on edge. Other male students speak with Alina—walk to class with her, greet her in the hallways—and while thatdoesmake me seethe, there’s still something about Tristan that feels off, and I’ve yet to determine if my dragon distrustshim because of his interest in Alina or because it has detected something about him that the human part of me has yet to home in on.
We fall into a tense silence. Alina’s scent changes slightly, tinged now with her hot anger.
And it makes my dragon coil inside me, pushing against the magic in an attempt to get out. It likes the ferociousness in her ice-blue eyes, likes the sharp set of her jaw as she regards me unflinchingly.
Perhaps for the first time, I feel why she’s my mate. Despite having seen me in my true form, despite knowing what I am, she stares back at me fearlessly, meeting me glare for glare.
Fuck, I want her.
The crowd cheers around us, the roar loud against my sensitive ears. But Alina doesn’t look away, doesn’t turn her eyes from mine to watch the players sprinting across the field. My gaze flicks to her lips, traces the soft shape of them. I know now from experience that they fit mine perfectly, know how they taste after a cup of tea, warm and plush and—
“Toasted pecans!” Tristan announces from behind me.
I turn my eyes up to him, barely restraining the urge to growl. He makes to step around me and reclaim his spot beside Alina, but I shift at the last moment, pressing myself close to her despite the strain it puts on me. She draws a small surprised breath.
“Thanks,” I say, reaching out and snagging the paper bag from Tristan’s hands. He looks surprised but doesn’t voice any complaint as I pop a few of the toasted pecans into mymouth. They’re warm and coated in cinnamon sugar. I pass the bag to Alina.
