Page 42 of Kidnapped By The Messy Dragon

“I have missed you, my love,” he says.

I lean toward Soren. “Has he calmed down yet?”

Soren lets out a groan from way down deep.

“No,” he says.

Sable comes over to us still carrying her. He props her on one arm and slides her flat shoes off with his free claw. He tucks the shoes into her tote.

“Sable, really—“ Lena starts. Then he takes a claw to the sole of her foot, and whatever she was about to say turns into a moan. She leans into him and falls quiet.

He reaches us like that, wife on one arm, and smiles. “Greetings.”

Ohhh, this would be gold for the podcast.The old me is already writing the episode. I bite the idea back, because I can’t keep being messy about everything. I’ve got Zuri now. Sable can love his wife in peace.

Soren looks down at me. He doesn’t have to say it. We don’t alarm the women. If there’s one thing Soren doesn’t play about, it’s Treasure and Lena.

The door to Stanley’s chimes, and Lamar walks out with his head down for once. It doesn’t save him. A growl rolls out of Sable, and Lamar picks up his pace toward his new truck. Lucky for him, he’s got supernatural insurance.

“Calm yourself, brother,” Soren says.

“The sight of that human angers me,” Sable says. He’s still rubbing Lena’s foot while he says it.

“Stop it,” Lena tells him. He turns back to her.

“Fly me home,” she says. “I don’t feel like driving. My feet hurt.”

Sable obeys on the spot. His wings spread wide, and he takes her up into the dark without so much as a goodbye.

I look at Soren.

“I will have words with my brother tonight,” he says. “We will take on extra patrols.”

“Thank you,” I tell him.

He stays planted right where he is until the diner door swings again and Devon steps out. Soren watches the kid lock up and get all the way into his car before he moves a muscle. He guards the dishwasher after hours too.

“I must take my leave to check on my mate,” he says.

I smile. “How’s Treasure doing, anyway?”

“She takes longer naps now. My son is growing strong.” The gold in his eyes goes bright as day.

I step back to give his wings room, and then he’s in the air, and I’m alone in the parking lot, still smiling at the sky.

Now, where does a dragon find a bouquet of peonies at this hour?

The lights are still on at the florist down at the end of the center, and someone inside is flipping the sign to closed.

I take off running, bare feet slapping the asphalt.

“Hey, wait!”

17

ZURI

Dorian sets a grilled cheese cut into triangles in front of me, with a bowl of creamy tomato soup on the side. It’s the best version of that meal I’ve ever put in my mouth. The bread is soft enough for my sore cheek, and the soup tastes homemade all the way down.