Ink and Flowers - 22. 22: Finley

Nervously tugging on my new coat, I looked up at the shimmering golden windows of the Golden Leaf. A Fae restaurant, built on a Fae hill, of course, and vegan. My stomach growled, whether from hunger or protest was hard to tell.

A couple, looking ancient by human standards, slowly climbed the steps, each holding a walking stick with one hand, the other placed in their partner's hand.

The sight made me smile wistfully. I would never grow old with anyone, if only because dragons only really age visually in the very last years of their lives. And with a living creature as the centerpiece of my hoard...

With a subtle shudder, I turned away and plucked at my coat again. On Tuesday I'd gone shopping with Mike and Jake for this reason - gods, what fun they'd had with me - and on the way to drop Jake off, he'd told me quite clearly to my face that he knew I was a dragon.

“Wasn't that hard, I mean, how many creatures do you think there are that are literally hot and exhale smoke?”

He assured me to keep it to himself and to ask Emmett the next day - when he went shopping with him - what his theories were.

“Emmett can't see the forest for all the trees,” Jake wrote later, so I decided to provide Emmett with enough pieces of the puzzle for him to figure it out on his own.

I'd also talked to Uther and Steven, but none of that mattered when Tony's car pulled up in the second row and Emmett slipped out the door.

This isn't a date, I reminded myself as my heart lurched into my throat and my stomach dropped into my pants because Emmett was smiling at me.

Dressed in a beige coat - a little darker than his suit pants and shoes - and a large aubergine-colored scarf, he came towards me. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me on the cheek in greeting, but then he just put his hand on my upper arm in a strange gesture and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.” My face warmed up. At that moment, I doubted the evening was a good idea, at least as far as my feelings were concerned, but when it came to heartbreak experiences, I was just a little on the late side.

“Shall we?” Emmett nodded to the side, towards the stairs, and I nodded, offering him my arm. Giggling, he clasped it.

I had no idea what to say, so we climbed the hill in silence. With my suit I had been given a test vial of perfume - I had wanted to throw it away but ended up trying it out. Now, as the scent wafted up my nose and settled on my tongue, mingling with Emmett's warm, spicy perfume and the smells already drifting out of the restaurant, I regretted it. It affected my perception of his emotional state too much.

Upstairs, a very old and august-looking man was waiting for us at his desk and when he looked me in the eye, I felt like a little boy for a moment.

“Porter, for two,” Emmett said cheerfully and the man nodded.

“Of course. Please.” He led us through the restaurant and I glanced around in amazement. The place looked like it was all under the spreading branches of a green and gold tree. Soft light in different shades was seemingly coming from nowhere, as was soft music. The furniture was made of dark wood, decorated in green and gold and subtle splashes of color, and the walls, which separated small seating niches, were also painted with flower motifs.

“Thank you,” Emmett said, snapping me out of my awe.

“A fantastic place.” I said slowly and got a knowing smile, which gave way to surprise when I took his coat and then amusement when I pulled his chair back.

“Yes, a fantastic place. The fairies know how to do it right.” He winked at me as I hung his coat on the small private coat rack in our alcove. “And you seem to have learned from a gentleman.”

I took off my coat and shrugged weakly. “What can I say? My parents are from a different era.”

“They always are.” Another wink.

With a snort, I sat down. “I meant that literally. My parents are over eight hundred years old.” - Emmett's eyes grew wide. - “My father wrote some very famous minstrel songs when he was courting my mother.”

“Wow. And how old are you? For real, I mean...” He seemed very serious about the question, presumably too great an age difference was a disqualifier. Was eight years already too much?

“Thirty-three,” I replied seriously. “With no hidden zero in between or behind.”

He nodded with visible relief and then pointed at me with a tiny gesture. “You undo the buttons on your jacket.”

“Oh.” I hurried to do the same. “Admittedly, this is the first time I'm wearing a suit. Until now, I've always worn my formal uniform.” And because he raised a brow questioningly, I added: “But firstly, the situation and location seemed inappropriate and secondly,” I pointed to myself, “ it doesn't fit anymore.”

He laughed softly. “You look great.” With his head half lowered, he looked at me and I felt myself getting warm. The ash-colored suit and dark red shirt had caused Mike to protest vehemently, but Jake had agreed just as enthusiastically.

“You too,” I replied without looking at him. He was wearing a light blue jacket with sparkling lapels and a pale purple shirt with his light beige suit trousers. His hair was also glittering, but that seemed to come from a styling product.

“Thank you.”

When I finally lifted my eyes, I met his soft smile and my face began to glow. I searched for words, any subject, but my thoughts lingered on his lips and then a woman stepped up to our table.

Her dark green waiter's uniform shimmered in the light, her fingernails glistened as she placed her tray on the table. She set two large glasses for red wine in front of us and poured a little dark red liquid from a small jug into the glasses before laying three sugared raspberries and three sugared rose petals into each. She then topped up the rest with sparkling clear liquid - the result was a shimmering, swirling mix which looked magical.

“We'll begin the menu shortly,” she said quietly and was gone before I could blink.

“What's that?” I asked curiously as I reached for the glass, just like Emmett. “And what did she mean? We haven't even chosen yet.”

He laughed softly and sipped - I was admittedly glad he didn't want to toast to anything - before saying, “This is just water with raspberry syrup and glitter. It's supposed to look great - which it does - and it's the kids' version. Usually there's something else, but there's alcohol in it.”

I nodded and took a sip too. The first swallow tasted horrible, washing the sticky perfume off my tongue, but the second was intensely raspberry-ish and sweet.

“And,” he continued, looking a little embarrassed, “I took the liberty of putting together a dinner plan. The menu is... complex, to say the least, and I didn't want to waste time on it unnecessarily.”

“Oh. Okay.” Surprised, I nodded. “You've been here before, I guess?”

“Once in a while with Tony. For birthdays or something.” He nodded and then we both held onto our glasses as we searched for words.

“Can I ask what Steven and you... well, what happened?” he finally asked cautiously. A fine frown had crept onto his face.

Since I had been aware this would raise questions, I had already thought about how to phrase it carefully. “I can try to explain,” I replied and he nodded in agreement. “Steven is a half-blood. Most have little ability or even instinct, but some are... different.”

“Different in what way?” Emmett asked immediately, one eyebrow raised.

Explaining that without him knowing I was a dragon wasn't so easy. “Some half-bloods have misguided instincts. One of them, usually focused on oneself, turns on others in the process. My guess is that I, uh, awakened said instinct.” Or that's what I and Uther suspected, after I had talked to both. At least he had already known what kind of blood ran through his veins.

“Oh,” Emmett said, puzzled. “How so? And what did you talk about? I mean, it definitely wasn't human language. And what did that have to do with me?”

Maybe it was a good thing that the questions came all at once, because that way I didn't have to pick apart my explanation. And I didn't have to go into detail about some things. “Well, we call half-bloods like Steven Thieves. Because they steal things from other people that are precious to them.” They then make their own hoard out of these things if the instinct is strong enough, but most of them end up in the criminal world with it - or get killed if they run into the wrong person.

“Ah.” Emmett realized and blushed.

My face was already warming up again and I cleared my throat. “Anyway... He gave in to the instinct, so his eyes changed color. That, and the fact that he could talk to me, prove that he's quite strong. But he still might not have had an easy time among the legionnaires.”

“And what did you talk about?”

“I threatened him,” I said simply. I didn't want to repeat exactly what I had said, especially not here and now.

Luckily, the waitress came to us at that moment and served us the first course - salad - and brought us more glasses and still water.

“I probably don't want to know exactly what you were threatening him with,” Emmett remarked pointedly, reaching for the cutlery. “But the rest?”

I also grabbed my knife and fork. “He threatened back - quite imaginatively with his daddy. Only, his father Daniel is one of my older brothers and the last time we saw each other, I wiped the floor with him in a practice fight.”

“Wait, Steven is... your nephew?” Perplexed, Emmett stared and I shrugged.

“Yeah. Why not? I already told you, my parents are old. And Bomb and I are their youngest.”

Emmett nodded and speared lettuce onto his fork.

Lowering my eyes to my plate, I suppressed a sigh. “What is this anyway?”

“Mixed salad with walnut vinaigrette and peach carpaccio,” Emmett replied as if shot from a gun, smiling wryly. “And mozzarella for you. It was goat's cheese in the recommendation, but after everything I've heard about it, I didn't think it was a must.”

“Yes. No. That stuff is horrible.” I shuddered exaggeratedly. “But then it means this isn't a purely vegan place after all.”

“They have vegetarian additions, like cheese.” Emmett's smile widened a little.

I nodded and refrained from commenting on the peach carpaccio. Instead, I tasted it and realized that salad didn't get any better when you added fruit. Nevertheless, I bravely finished my dish.

“You mentioned brothers several times,” Emmett then remarked. “How many do you have?”

“Many. Over eighty siblings, how many exactly, I'd have to count. And you?” I raised a brow questioningly, but he was staring again, perplexed.

“Oh gods,” he mumbled and shook his head. “How can a woman do that to herself?”

I'd better not answer this - probably rhetorical - question. If I even started to explain that my mother always laid several eggs at once, he would end up thinking I was a harpy hybrid and I really didn't need that.

“I have two and that's exhausting enough,” he continued. “Brother and sister, both older.”

“Don't you get along?” I asked cautiously and he sighed.

“Not really. Jessica, like our mom, is a very ambitious witch. And Marc... I don't think he's ever gotten over this certain jealousy because I'm... stronger than him.” The last part sounded like it had been customized for my ears, and I tasted an almost bitter discomfort.

“Are your abilities inherited by gender?”, I asked, then shook my head as I remembered that Tony was his mother's brother. “No, wait, that can't fit-”

“Oh, well in most cases it does.” Emmett smiled wryly. “Tony's a bit of an exception.”

The waitress came and took the empty plates.

“Why aren't you wearing human masks on your eyes?” I asked as she had left. “The color isn't exactly human.”

Emmett's face twitched, a new wave of bitter discomfort rolling in. “Tony can't make masks. So I decided to show my eyes, too. It's easier to pass as father and son that way.”

Sounded reasonable, so I nodded.

The waitress was already coming back, this time with small bowls of soup.

“Pumpkin and carrot soup,” Emmett said, and before I could do more than admire the color, he asked, ”Do you take after your parents?”

“My character is pretty out of line with the family picture,” I replied slowly, stirring the soup. It smelled good. “On the outside, I'm just like my father. Just a few kilos heavier. Steven looks a lot like his grandmother, my mother, by the way.” As I carefully shoved the first spoonful into my mouth, I saw something flit across Emmett's face that could have been worry, but his basic emotions were quite stable joy and curiosity.

“I look a lot like my dad,” he then said between spoonfuls. “Without the masks, I mean. But the blonde here is like my mom's.”

“And the eyes are probably from her side, if Tony has the same ones,” I remarked, pleased that he was addressing his natural appearance at all.

“True.” He smiled and our eyes met. Contrary to my expectations, he wasn't wearing make-up. “My dad's eyes are turquoise. A crass shade, I have to admit. But very pretty. I'm...” He paused and lowered his eyes to the soup.

Because he was obviously searching for words or even thinking about how far he should go into detail, I remained silent and ate the soup, which would have tasted even better with fresh bread than it already did.

“My dad is just about the most skittish creature there is. I'm steadfast against him,” he finally said slowly when my soup was finished. There was a certain pain in his voice. “I'm more emotional than he is. And I can be as fierce as my mom.”

“Sounds like a lot,” I said, thinking about how exhausted he'd been after his emotional outburst.

To my surprise, he turned dark red. “You're admittedly the first one to receive the full bandwidth of it.”

I took the words positively, which seemed to surprise him, and silence fell again. This time, however, it was awkward and again I searched for a topic.

“Did Tony say anything about the tattoo?” I finally asked after the waitress had taken away the soup bowls. On Wednesday, I'd used the time Emmett was out of the house to show Tony the damaged tattoo. Not because I had to lower my shields, but because I didn't want to bare myself to Emmett like that - the tattoo ran from my hip across my butt and down my thigh. Well, at least I didn't want to undress in front of him in this way or under these circumstances. Tony's purely professional gaze was something else.

Emmett looked puzzled at first, then shrugged. “He asked me to research the ink, but apparently I just confirmed what he already knew. Standard ink for reinforcements of all kinds.” He added a somewhat helpless gesture. “Other than that, he apparently wanted to do some research, because rune circle chains aren't exactly risk-free. I don't know anything about them, but I don't think different types of magic should be tampering with them.”

“Ah, because a sorceress made it and he's a witch, I see.” I nodded. Tony had implied something like that.

Emmett nodded back and then smiled a little tensely at the waitress as she set the next plate down in front of us. “I forgot the name, but it's black rice from Italy and the cream is with hazelnuts and pine nuts and um... uh...”

“Whatever it is,” I interrupted him and put on a smile, ”we'll taste it.” A little tower of black rice stood in a pale creamy lake, rolled carrot strips sat in it like breakwaters. My tower also contained something resembling a cheese cracker and tasting like one.

Then we struggled through bumpy conversation and three more courses. Like me, he didn't seem to want to keep his true nature under wraps, but he was incredibly uptight on the subject and although he picked up on Steven again, he dropped the thread when we were interrupted by the waitress.

After that, four more courses followed much more relaxed as we talked about completely normal topics like movies and music and friends and different cities. However, during the next course, I pushed aside the main item - something that looked like a burger patty but was made of who knows what and tasted horrible.

“What's the most awful thing you've ever eaten?” Emmett asked, amused, and I raised an eyebrow.

“That... I'd rather not say. Maybe it's also classified.” It was supposed to be a joke, but from the look on his face, he didn't take it that way. I cleared my throat. “It definitely made me very sick.”

“Oh.” That seemed to surprise him.

Well. Tainted creatures, tainted creatures reanimated by necromancers, are unpleasant opponents and at that moment I didn't have much choice but to turn to the last resort of a dragon - eat the adversary. “So sick in fact, that our medic put me on a vegetarian diet.”

Emmett chuckled into his water glass. “As critically as you look at every new plate here, that must have been torture.”

“Yeah, it was.” I sighed a little exaggeratedly, then shrugged. “I didn't realize it myself, but I must have been so grouchy and passive-aggressive that after ten days my comrades begged the doc to let me eat normally again.”

Now Emmett really laughed. “That's hard to imagine.” He winked at me. “But seriously. When you go home later, are you going to make yourself a steak?”

“No.” With a grimace, I shook my head. “I might not like everything here, but it's still filling. Besides, it would be disrespectful.”

The way he smiled at that seemed to turn everything inside me upside down. “But meatless food makes you unbearable...”

I swallowed my indignant reply as I realized he was teasing me. “I can handle a dinner without meat...” I said instead, trying to relax and smile reassuringly.

“Let's hope so.” He grinned. “Don't want to give you any ideas.”

My cheeks burned as various possible interpretations of this flashed through my mind, but I couldn't get over my shyness to return a teasing answer.

And anyway, where was the line between a bit of teasing and flirting?

This was something I pondered as we continued to sit and chat - whereby I often stumbled over my tongue or remained completely silent because I wondered what he meant by this or that. His smile and his glances drove me crazy anyway. Yes, such a private dinner had been a bad idea if this wasn't a date.

At some point, he stopped and looked at a young woman half-walking, half-fluttering past us. Her shimmering wings sparkled in the light. “I imagine flying to be incredible,” he said quietly, almost a little dreamily.

So much for my idea that he might have wings, it crossed my mind, but before I could comment on his words, he was already speaking on:

“If I could give up some of my abilities to be able to fly instead, I would.”

I looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Can you fly?”

“Uh... I can drive pretty much anything ground-based, but planes or choppers? No.” For a moment, an image rose up in my mind of me carefully and protectively holding him in my claws, carrying him up into the air with me. I could almost hear his enthusiastic cries of joy.

“They say freedom is endless up there among the clouds.”

That made me smile, he wasn't so wrong, but I couldn't honestly comment on it. “Endless freedom sounds like a dream.”

When the last course finally arrived - I had lost track of how many small dishes we had actually eaten - I paused. Peach sorbet, oat milk-based peach ice cream and a peach and hibiscus cream. The third dessert, the third time peach-laden. Was Emmett really as blind as Jake thought he was? Or didn't he have an idea and even the right nose when it came to my hoard and was testing me?

“Fantastic,” Emmett murmured, looking as if he wanted to eat the spoon as well as the ice cream. “This cream... divine.” He sighed blissfully.

I couldn't help but agree and then struggled to stop myself from licking the plate. “You made good choices.”

A proud smile flitted across his face. “I'm quite fascinated that a carnivore like you ate everything so well.”

“I thought I was quite brave at times,” I joked and he laughed softly before standing up.

“Back in a minute.”

Looking at his pretty butt, I sipped my water. And now? Would I bring him home and tomorrow at the Tempest would be business as usual? Or would Tony pick him up? Or was his teasing serious? And if so, what then? The thought that we would probably just stay friends was painful, especially after tonight. Could I do so?

Chewing on my lip, I waited and then watched as he slid elegantly back into his seat. There was a sparkle in his eyes.

“Would you like anything else?” he asked. “Coffee? Something special to drink? Another dessert?”

I shook my head. Thanks to my brooding, I didn't know what to say now.

There was a hint of confusion coming from him, probably because he had noticed my change of mood, and his smile was thin. “Then we can go.”

“Wait, you paid?” it dawned on me.

“Yes.”

“But-”

“I wanted to apologize to you.”

“But this must have been expensive.”

“That's not the point.”

“But Emmett-”

“No argument.” He looked at me sternly and my protest died away. I still didn't like the fact that he just invited me. He could at least have said something first.

After nodding, I stood up and took his coat from the coat rack.

His smile was cheeky. “A gentleman is a man who helps a woman into her clothes just as correctly as he helped her out of them incorrectly before.”

The allusion made my cheeks glow again. “Do any of these points apply at the moment?” At least my voice sounded normal, even if my answer wasn't a knee-slapper.

He chuckled anyway and took his scarf from me. “You smell good.” He remarked it casually, as if it was nothing special, but I stumbled over his words.

Frozen, I looked at him in amazement, even though I had wanted to grab my own coat. And only then did I remember that I had used that stupid perfume, my senses just filtered it out by now.

“Seriously. I like the perfume. Finally, no cold cigarette smoke.” With his head down, he gave me a glance. A confusingly ambiguous look.

You can't just throw me off track like that!

“Thank you,” I mumbled sheepishly as my heart and stomach jumped around again. For many creatures, body scents weren't a means of communication like they were for me - except perhaps for those who could emit pheromones - but just another accessory. I slipped into my coat and as it hung open around me, I felt incredibly large compared to Emmett. But I avoided his smile and his questioning look. Instead, I wanted to know: “Is Tony coming to pick you up?”

Now it was him who looked puzzled. “Now of all times, you don't want to bring me home?”

“I'm just asking,” I mumbled, feeling stupid.

He took my arm and we left the restaurant and walked down the street to the parked Rover. In silence.

Even on the way, the Rover was the only thing making any kind of sound. I felt uncomfortable in the heavy silence, but was surprised to notice that Emmett was getting nervous - and his nervousness increased the closer we got to his house. Which in the end wasn't that close, because the road was already half-closed due to construction work starting on Monday; if I had stopped in front of the house, I would have blocked the road completely, which is why I pulled over even before the road was cordoned off.

He usually just got out after saying goodbye, but this time he hesitated.

“Are you all right?” I wanted to know cautiously, because his nervousness exploded, but at the same moment he said:

“The evening was good, wasn't it?”

“Yes...” I replied, puzzled. “Well, maybe a little bumpy...?”

“Yeah.” He gave a strangely breathless little laugh and fiddled with a coat button.

Something on the rover cracked as it cooled in the cold night air.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I said and even managed a smile, which he returned when he raised his eyes after a moment. But when his gaze flickered to the side, I realized that my left hand was still on the steering wheel. It might have been a casual gesture, but to him it may have looked like I wanted to get out of here quickly. So I removed my hand, but now I didn't know where to put it - the other was already resting tensely on my thigh.

“Will you walk me to the house?” The question came suddenly and in a tone I couldn't interpret, his nervousness mixed with something else that might be excitement.

“Can do.” I removed the ignition key. “But I thought you were scared only of thunderstorms.” That little tease surprised even me, but Emmett chuckled.

“Maybe of the dark, too.”

We got out of the car, and although I grimaced inwardly because I had maneuvered the Rover horribly into a space far too small, I locked the car and joined Emmett on the sidewalk. “Unlike light, darkness can be perfect,” I said a little belatedly, and he huffed a little cloud into the air.

“Philosophy's not really my thing.”

“That would be physics. Optics. Light waves and stuff,” I corrected him and he gave me a little shoulder bump before starting to move.

“I never learned anything like that and I think I'm glad I didn't.”

“Pretty dry stuff,” I agreed and gently nudged him back.

A fine warm cloud rose up from him, his peach scent seeping very faintly through the smell of his perfume and the scents of his emotions. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his lips curving into a smile. “Not dark?”

We both laughed softly.

Walking slowly, our sleeves brushed against each other. A car drove past, somewhere a dog barked out its excitement about the night walk, music drifted softly from a house. The night was cold and damp and a light breeze sweeped over my face, bringing with it the smell of food.

It was like an electric shock when Emmett's fingers suddenly brushed mine. With a normal stance, this couldn't be a coincidence and my senses went into overdrive. Two steps further on, his hand slid carefully into mine and a small sound of surprise escaped me. It was only after a certain delay that I managed to return the gesture and take hold.

What am I doing now? It was pounding through my mind as I felt hot and cold at the same time. I had no experience with holding hands. IRIS had just taken my hand to drag me somewhere where we wouldn't be disturbed or to put it where he wanted it.

At the same time, the skin contact also awakened the dragon.

Hold. Touch. Taste.

The urge was so strong that I could only hold it back with difficulty and my hands began to tremble.

We walked, rather strolled, along the street until we reached the house. The light was on upstairs, so Tony was home. Somehow that was reassuring. Not that it would have had any noticeable effect, given my own nervousness.

It wasn't until we were right at the door that Emmett paused and we looked at each other. His nervousness reached a new peak, he seemed to be searching for something in my gaze, but I still didn't know how to proceed.

“I want to show you something,” he finally whispered.

But for sure not stamps or the coffee machine...

With his free hand, he ran through his hair and my inner question as to what that was about vanished into thin air as he took off his mask. His lilac hair glistened and sparkled in the light of the street lamp, which barely reached this far.

Then he brushed over his face - another mask fell, revealing white skin. Not pure white, it seemed to me, but it was difficult to tell in this light. On his cheekbones and nose, silver spots shimmered like freckles on a human. And his ears were pointed.

“Wow...”, I said tonelessly, but with a big cloud of smoke.

He blinked through the fumes, his smile shy and uncertain.

I cautiously raised my hand and when he didn't flinch, I touched the silver freckles. It felt like normal skin. Fascinating. My fingertips glided over his cheek, which was extremely smooth. “No beard?”

“No.” He pulled a funny face. “Not easy to portray beard shadow in a mask.”

“You can have some of mine.”

He returned the gesture with a chuckle and stroked my cheek. “A real beard would look good on you.”

“You think so?” Skeptically, I lowered my hand.

He nodded. A certain relief emanated from him and then he let the already small distance between us shrink and leaned against me, letting go of me to place both hands on my chest.

For my part, I carefully wrapped my arms around him. One thought chased the next. Emmett's nervousness was fully off my tongue, but I was definitely too nervous to decipher the rest more accurately; he was relaxed, that's what counted.

“I like the suit on you,” he said quietly and stroked the lapel of the jacket - I hadn't closed my coat after getting out of the car.

“I like everything about you,” I blurted out and, while I was once again hot with embarrassment, he chuckled softly. “I-”

“We need to talk.” Suddenly he looked at me much more seriously. Maybe it was the light, but his lips also seemed to be pale purple rather than a fleshy pink.

“We have to,” I agreed, pushing the thought of his lips aside. Another puff of smoke escaped me.

“Not now,” he said, however. “I have an idea, okay, I'll write you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I nodded and could feel his back muscles moving despite the thick coat. I wanted skin contact, needed skin contact to soothe the restless dragon, but while I was still contemplating what to do about that, Emmett leaned forward.

He pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, which lingered there much longer than was customary. But he didn't lean back.

In fact, I could feel his mouth hovering just a tiny bit off my skin, and all I would have to do was turn my head to make it a real kiss. But this realization alone left me frozen.

With a hint of disappointment, he finally took a step back, out of my embrace. “Good night, Finley,” he said softly. The disappointment wasn't visible on his face though, his expression was rather dreamy. “Drive safe.”

“Go-” I had to clear my throat, ”good night, Emmett. Sleep well.”

He nodded. “I will.” His glance, his twitching lips, promised something else entirely, and I swallowed at the thought. He lifted his hand and touched my chest briefly, and I placed my hand over it just as fleetingly.

The dragon urged again, but my shyness had already taken over and I gave Emmett one last smile before he turned away, one hand already in his coat pocket digging for the keys.

What on earth is this man? I thought as I eyed the white tips of his ears.

Mine. Replied the dragon simply.