Page 57 of Fated to the Grumpy Dragon
“I suppose I do,” I teased. “After all, Iamdressed for a party. Now, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. Shall we?”
Stepping up smartly, Rhyse extended his arm toward me.
I looked at his bared forearm, recognizing this moment for what it was. Not just a simple act. This was something moreformal. An invitation to attend the party, not just with him, buttogether. A visible sign of just what that meant.
Taking that arm meant a lot of things would change. Things between us. Things with those around us. I would no longer just be the human tagging along with Rhyse. I would be his. And he would be mine. For the evening, at least. In the morning, the questions would be asked. The boundaries set out.
But for tonight, he was asking if I would bewithhim.
There were plenty of reasons not to take it. To tell him I could walk on my own and didn’t need his support. Many of those weregoodreasons that both of us would accept without hesitation.
They wouldn’t be the truth, though. The truth, as bare as his arm or the sides of my legs, was that Iwantedto go with him. And he quite clearly wanted that of me.
So, despite a shoulder-sagging weight of hesitation, I reached out and tucked my arm through his and allowed Rhyse to lead me down to the party.
As his.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rhyse
Ishould have known going to the party was a bad idea.
The instant I saw her come out of the room, however, I knew I could never say no to this woman. Emma looked resplendent in her glani with the pendant I’d found for her dangling from her neck. A goddess who was now at my side, her arm linked in mine.
We arrived at the party together.
Others noticed immediately. I was not a common sight, and that alone set mouths running. But showing up with a human woman at my side drew all sorts of looks. The hushed background conversations notched up a level, the buzz growing.
A handful of bonfires had sprung up by that point, and we started to weave our way through them. The smell of burning wood filled the air, tickling our nostrils with its almost sweet aroma.
“Campfire” was something impossible to replicate and never failed to bring a hint of a smile to my face. Emma, it seemed, was the same. I listened to her first deep breath of it, inhaling her surroundings, and felt the matching satisfaction trickle into my mind.
“It’s been so long, but it’s all so familiar,” she said, twirling away from me as the other dragons accepted our presence and returned to their conversations.
From a nearby circle of logs set around a larger bonfire, a dragon struck up a tune on a guitar made from a tortoise shell.
Emma paused to listen to the odd sounds. A moment later, the dragon lifted his voice in song, giving voice to the desires of all dragons to float on the morning breeze and see just what lay over the horizon, always chasing that next mile.
“Is this a sad song?” Emma whispered quietly to me. “Everyone seems to be smiling.”
“It’s a song of inner longing,” I said. “But also something that speaks to all of us on different levels.”
“Why does it make you sad?” she asked.
I looked away, trying to shield my emotions from her. Now was not the time for this. I didn’t want to ruin a perfectly wonderful evening.
As it turned out, someone else did that for me.
The change was a rustle at first. A slight cessation of conversations which then resumed in much lower tones.
I glanced over my shoulder, seeking the source of it all.
“Shit,” I muttered, seeing someone I hadn’t expected to put in an appearance. “Come on. We need to go.”
“What? Why?” Emma asked before following my glance to the trio of characters making their way through the bonfires. “Oh.”
