Guarded by the Dragon

by Sofia Stone

  “Gabriel?” Amelia’s fingers snapped in front of his face.

  Abruptly he realized he’d been daydreaming. She was waiting for him to answer . . . something. What?

  “I didn’t hear you,” he said as smoothly as he could manage.

  The corners of her mouth turned up in a smirk. “Yeah, I got that. Are you ready to go?”

  “I’m ready.”

  She threw him a brilliant smile over her shoulder, which he returned. She shrugged on a white lacy cardigan that technically covered everything up but made him think of lingerie. It didn’t help that the garment left tantalizing glimpses of her skin underneath for his eyes to linger on.

  Town was a good thirty minutes’ drive away. They didn’t use a driver—that would have attracted unwanted attention—so Gabriel drove himself in one of the plainer cars, and it offered the opportunity to relax for a little while and pretend they were normal. Just two ordinary lovers spending a beautiful afternoon with each other, no politics or complications in sight.

  The fog they had seen that morning was gone, the sky was clear and cloudless, and the sun warmed the countryside. The local town did not boast a huge population, but all the basic necessities were here.

  Gabriel came around to the passenger’s side and, opening the door for his mate, helped her step out. Her hand clung to his long after it was necessary, and he didn’t let go. Her side pressed up against his, and for a moment he regretted telling her how to defeat jet lag. They could have gone to bed together instead . . . though they might not have slept very much.

  Instead he tucked a hand into the small of her back and dropped a kiss on her lips, light but promising. She molded to him, soft and perfect, before sighing and pulling away.

  “Remember, we have to exercise discretion,” she told him playfully.

  Gabriel thought of himself as a cautious man, but she tested his limits utterly. “Discretion is overrated,” he returned. His hand drifted down her backside.

  She squealed. “If you don’t stop that . . .”

  “You’ll what?” he challenged.

  “I’ll never see this beautiful country, and it’ll be all your fault,” she finished with a laugh. Gabriel was prepared to accept that as an outcome, but too soon she danced away from him, and he could only follow wherever she led.

  The local town was, if not as bustling as a major city, vibrant and alive. There was color everywhere, from the wildflowers lining every building to the bright clothes. Zavinian fashion was all about the bright solid colors. Mingled French and Catalan chatter surrounded them like music, drifting out of windows.

  The main road in the town stretched out in front of them like a ribbon. Gabriel had been here many times, but seeing it with Amelia was like seeing it through new eyes.

  “These buildings were constructed in the 1430s,” he pointed out as they passed a cafe.

  “I’ve never even seen a building that old. Not in the U.S., I mean,” she admitted. “That’s way before we even became a country!”

  She couldn’t wait to take out her camera. Walking up and down the street, she snapped shots of the storefronts, signs, and displays. Then she changed out her camera lens and asked a few people if she could take their portraits in tentative, but quite good, French. She was so sweet that everyone said yes.

  “You too,” she said with a grin, almost skipping.

  “Only if you come to the florist with me,” he bargained.

  “I’m intrigued, so I agree to your oddly specific request.” She took what had to be dozens of pictures of him in front of a white latticework trellis covered in budding rose vines.

  “You can’t possibly need that many,” he pointed out after she had finished.

  The look she turned on him was tender. “I could never have enough.”

  His mate looked radiant, her pale skin glowing like a pearl and eyes glowing like blue pools kissed by the sun. She deserved everything, he thought suddenly, everything he could give her and more.

  Down the street, he spied a flower shop called Meilleures Fleurs. While Amelia began clicking through the photos on her digital display with sharp eyes, humming a cheerful tune to herself all the while, he ducked inside the shop.

  It was filled with blooms large and small, every color from an angelic white to a chocolate brown so deep it could be mistaken for black. The air was redolent with heavy floral aromas. It was a small shop, crowded with stands stuffed to the brim with every kind of flower he could imagine, and some with names he never heard of before.

  He kept Amelia, who was just outside the big window, in the periphery of his vision, ever mindful of the danger she was still in. But his mate sense wasn’t tingling like it had that day at the hotel, so while he would be vigilant, he wasn’t overly worried.

  “A dozen dragon-roses,” he said to the florist, and paid for his order.

  Amelia was so wrapped up in her work that she didn’t notice what he was carrying until he got himself in the line of her vision.

  “Flowers?” she asked, the camera in her hands forgotten for the moment. Her mouth was open in an ‘o.’ “For me?”

  The bouquet was a paltry gift compared to a dragon’s usual treasure hoard of gold and jewels. But the expression of joy and delight on her face wiped away any lingering concerns he might have had.

  “They’re so beautiful!” she gushed, passing a hand over the velvety edges of the open blossoms as she cradled the bouquet in her other arm. “I’ve never seen roses like this before.”

  “They’re dragon-roses,” he explained. “Named for the shimmering colors. They only grow in Zavinia. See?” He tilted the flowers so she could see. Dragon-roses were white—but a pearlescent white that reflected a rainbow of colors, from yellow to pink to green to purple. Not all dragons were white, coming in a rainbow of colors themselves, but their beautiful scales shimmered with many hues in basically the same way.

  “You guys sure love your dragons here,” she said with a laugh, before diving face-first into the bouquet and drawing in a long, deep breath.

  Gabriel wondered if she had ever seen another dragon before. Her father died when she was so young that she might not ever remember transforming—and it could be difficult to get a good look at yourself in dragon form. He almost laughed at the mental image of a dragon craning its neck around to see its own tail.

  She would have had to keep her dragon a secret from everyone around her in a country like the United States, he realized. No wonder the constant references to dragons seemed weird to her here.

  She wouldn’t have to keep her dragon to herself anymore, Gabriel thought. Here, she could truly be herself. He wondered when she would show her other form to him. He had a feeling she made a gorgeous dragon

  “Meilleures Fleurs!” she said, pointing at the lettering on the florist’s window. “Best Flowers, right? That’s so straightforward it’s charming.”

  He grinned. “Your French is getting better and better.”

  She smiled sunnily. Gabriel could practically see her dragon preening with pride.

  “Is that a park?” she asked, nodding in one direction.

  He followed the line of her gaze. “Looks like one. Do you want to stop there?”

  “Yes! Oh, there’s so many kids. I love being around them.” He sensed something wistful about her comment, but she didn’t offer any elaboration.

  They took a seat on one of the free benches, and Amelia laid down the bouquet next on her other side as they watched several children play.

  Gabriel wasn’t good at guessing how old kids were—he came into contact with so few of them—but he thought most of them were four or five. Not old enough to be in school, but old enough to create their own adventures. As they watched, two kids climbed the ladder into the miniature watchtower and took up sentry on opposite sides.

  “No dragons here!” called one little girl in French in a high, clear voice.

  “No dragons here!” returned her partner more quietly, a little boy with the s
ame curly dark hair. Her younger brother, he guessed.

  “You must say it louder! Everyone must hear!” urged the girl, coming to his side, and the boy sighed before complying. His shout carried across the playground, drawing him attention he clearly didn’t want.

  After the boy slunk off, released from his duty, the girl made her way down the ladder and, when she got to the foot, turned to look around. Her bright eyes alighted on Gabriel and Amelia—and on the bundle of flowers next to her.

  “Dragon-roses!” she squealed. She ran over to them, but stopped before actually picking them up. “Those are my favorite,” said the girl more shyly.

  “They are very beautiful, aren’t they?” said Amelia in French, a little uncertainly. “My name is Amelia.”

  The girl beamed. “My name is Sophie.”

  “Were you looking for—“ Amelia turned to Gabriel and asked in English, “What’s the word for dragons in French?” Not the kind of thing you usually learned from vocabulary flashcards. After he told her, she repeated it back to Sophie, who nodded.

  “Yes!” She pointed at the watchtower. “If we don’t see them coming, we might get hurt. If I see one, I will tell everyone.”

  “Thank you for keeping us safe,” said Amelia gravely. “That’s a very important job.”

  Biting her lip, Sophie looked longingly, though silently, at Amelia’s bouquet, her eyes flicking between the flowers and Amelia’s face as though there was something she wanted to ask.

  “Would you like a flower or two?” Amelia offered, already reaching for them.

  Sophie held up three fingers. Gabriel almost laughed at her brazenness.

  “Three flowers,” agreed his mate, and handed them to Sophie.

  “Thank you!” said Sophie, clutching them admiringly before running off.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I gave away part of your gift,” said Amelia after the girl had run to the other side of the park and sat down with her back to them.

  Gabriel smiled. “Treasures are for more than just hoarding. They’re for sharing with the ones you love. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  “That’s a really lovely way to put it.” Amelia paused. “Why does she keep looking at us, though?”

  “I have no idea,” he admitted. Every few moments Sophie would look up from whatever she was doing and dart a glance over her hunched shoulder at them, keeping her actions from view. “Clearly she doesn’t want us to know.”

  “We’ll have to pretend we aren’t paying attention to her,” Amelia decided, turning on the park bench so that her upper body was facing him. He mirrored her actions.

  “You’re good with kids,” he said with a chuckle.

  Amelia blushed at his compliment. “All you have to do is go along with their games, really.”

  His mate had a sweet, soft heart. He loved that about her. He couldn’t help but imagine her with a few dragonets of her own: a little girl with her auburn hair and his gray eyes, or a boy with dark hair like his own and his mother’s blue eyes.

  His heart lurched with wanting at the flow of images. If only there were no complications, nothing getting in the way of their love, they could get started on those dragonets as soon as possible . . . Amelia looked like she was thinking the same thing, her eyes dark and lips parted with desire.

  “Mademoiselle,” said a child’s voice, interrupting their reverie.

  Gabriel coughed, turning away from his mate, who looked equally embarrassed.

  “Hi, Sophie.” Amelia took note of the way both of the girl’s hands were hidden behind her back. “Do you have something?”

  Sophie squirmed, but she was smiling. “I made something for you.”

  She brought her creation out, holding it in front of her with both hands like an offering.

  “Oh!” said Amelia involuntarily. “Is that a . . . tiara?” She used the English word, looking to Gabriel for help.

  “It’s a crown,” said Sophie happily.

  The three stems were braided together in a circlet, and the three flowers were positioned together at the front.

  Amelia touched one of the petals reverently. “It’s so beautiful! But why did you make it for me?”

  “You look pretty, like a princess. So I made you a crown. My mother taught me how to make them. Do you like it?” Sophie looked unsure.

  “I love it.” Amelia rose off the bench and, gathering her skirt in her hands, knelt in front of Sophie with a smile and pointed to her head. “You should put it on me.”

  Sophie giggled. “Princesses don’t kneel. People kneel to princesses.”

  “Princesses serve the realm, don’t they?” Amelia answered with perfect seriousness. “And you are part of the country. So I serve you, too.”

  Sophie accepted this explanation with the equanimity of a child, nodding thoughtfully. Then, beaming, the girl placed the flower crown on Amelia’s head with all due reverence and gravity, giving it a minute adjustment to make sure the flowers were centered properly.

  “Thank you,” said Amelia with feeling.

  “I’m glad your highness likes it,” said Sophie, curtsying. Then, as abruptly as she had come, she giggled and ran off again.

  "Are the kids here psychic, or what?" Amelia murmured, leaning back into the bench.

  "Maybe she sensed your innate royalty." He was only half-teasing.

  Amelia laughed, but her eyes tracked Sophie across the park with no small amount of longing.

  “Do you want kids?” she asked suddenly, turning to look at him with ill-disguised curiosity.

  Her question mirrored his train of thought uncannily, so a surprised Gabriel returned it. “Do you?”

  “Hey, I asked first.”

  “You do, don’t you?”

  She looked back at the children playing. “I do—I just never thought I would have any . . .”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, you need someone to have them with, don’t you?” She laughed. “And my job was never that great money-wise—not the kind of thing you could raise a kid on alone, if you even wanted to. Which I didn’t—I always wanted the white picket fence and the husband and the two-point-five kids and the yappy dog, the whole nine yards. I was waiting for Mr. Perfect but he never came. Eventually I got to the point where I just thought it would never happen for me.”

  “There’s no white picket fence, but you have a castle instead,” he pointed out. “More than one, actually.”

  “A definite upgrade,” she agreed. “What about Mr. Perfect?”

  His thumb brushed across the back of her neck. “I can’t make any claims to perfection . . . but I’m here if you’ll have me. Forever.” He could promise her nothing less.

  Her eyes drifted half-closed at the tender caress; he could almost feel her dragon rumbling with contentment. “That sounds just about perfect to me.”

  Amelia’s happiness was infectious, but he couldn’t be anything less than honest with her. Still, he hesitated to interrupt the moment. “There is something we need to talk about, though.”

  Her eyes popped open. “That’s never something a girl wants to hear.”

  “It’s about our relationship.”

  “It’s not getting better . . .” she said half-jokingly, but she was beginning to look worried. Her reached out to brush her cheek with the back of his knuckles reassuringly, and then swept up her hands in his own so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Before meeting his mate, he would never have set himself against the council alone . . . but now, he would fight for her, for their love, with every last breath in his body.

  “It’s not going to be an easy path for us, for our relationship. You’re the princess of Zavinia, and one day you’re going to be queen. I’m only a commoner. There are rules about these things.”

  She stared at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Rules like social etiquette and prejudice, or rules like actual laws with consequences?”

  He grimaced. “More like the latt
er. By law, loyalty have to marry someone from the nobility; otherwise the marriage isn’t recognized by the government.”

  “You were telling me that you’re the son of a nobleman, though.”

  “The illegitimate son. I’m not the kind of man they want for you.”

  “And what about what I want, huh?” Amelia blew out a breath, making her bangs float up momentarily. “And what about what you want?”

  “You,” he said with no hesitation. “I’ll fight for you, and for us, no matter what the rules say.”

  “Screw the rules,” she said, and at the very same moment, Gabriel’s dragon also said, Fuck the rules. Gabriel couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Well, like you said, I’m going to be the queen,” she said after a moment, undeterred. “So I can just make a decree or something, can’t I?”

  Her indomitable spirit made him smile. “It’s not exactly that simple. The Draconic Council must vote to change the law, and a fair number of them are hidebound traditionalists.”

  “I didn’t come here thinking everything was going to be a cakewalk.” Her eyes were bright and determined. “But if they think they can tell me who to love—they’ve got another think coming.”

  She was radiant and fierce and perfect, and he couldn’t help but take her face between his hands and kiss her with all the love in his heart.

  “EW,” said a nearby voice, breaking them apart. It was one of Sophie’s little brothers, gawking with a child’s disgusted expression.

  A blush staining her cheeks, Amelia rested her forehead against his shoulder and giggled.

  “I love you,” he said. “And I believe you, too. I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

  Her voice was soft. “I love you too. I’m so glad we found each other.” She shifted, leaning into his side, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. “Earlier, you didn’t say—do you want kids?”

  “With all my heart. If they’re with you.”

  She drummed her fingertips on the top of his thigh. “So many obstacles to overcome, so little time . . . What’s next?”

  “Next? Next, we make sure you’re officially confirmed as heir to the throne.”