'Til Dragons Do Us Part (Never Deal with Dragons)

by Lorenda Christensen

  “Not at all. Do you need to let the guys in the control room know?” Please say yes. I’d known ahead of time that this was the weakest part of the plan. Simon had offered to send me with a “distraction,” otherwise known as a small flash grenade. He swore to me that it wouldn’t cause any damage to Relobu’s house, but I had a professional reputation to uphold. My last job notwithstanding, I usually did my best to get in and out before people even realized I was around. If Prometheus was the king of tech gadgets, I was the queen of the old-fashioned caper, where brains and a charming attitude went a long way.

  “Already taken care of. I’m off the clock tonight.”

  Apparently my brains were being beaten by circumstance. And at Cameron’s words, I felt my grip on that charming attitude loosen just a bit more.

  “Okay.” Desperation struck. “You need to go to the bathroom before we take off?”

  He gave me an incredulous look. “Bridal Visions is only about ten miles from here. How slow do you plan on driving?”

  “Well, you know.” I made a weak gesture toward the truck. “The plates and all. They’re pretty fragile.”

  “We were careful in the packing. I can assure you, both the plates and my bladder will survive the trip.”

  Cameron headed for the passenger door, and I sighed. The painting wasn’t coming with me. I’d have to find a way to retrieve it later this evening.

  “Savannah?”

  I looked over to find Cameron seated comfortably in the passenger seat, his lips curved into a teasing smile. “Do I make you nervous?”

  Yep. There went my ears again, bright red.

  He grinned. “Good.”

  Unable to form a response that wouldn’t have me looking more ridiculous than I already did, I elected to say nothing as I climbed into the driver’s seat to start the engine.

  * * *

  The trip took us only fifteen minutes, and would have been half that if I hadn’t felt the need to feign concern over the plates.

  I pulled into the alley beside Visions and cut the engine. When Cameron hopped out and made as if to open the trailer, I waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll unload tomorrow when we have more help.”

  Or I’ll let the truck sit here a few days, then drive it directly back.

  “Besides, the garage is in use tonight, and I’d rather get our load closer to the door before tackling that project.”

  I dashed off a coded note to Simon and dropped it in the truck’s glove compartment to let him know that the painting hadn’t made the trip, and then hopped from the cab and started for the entrance, Cameron at my side. I opened the front door to the sound of raucous feminine laughter.

  “Oh there is no way I’ll allow that! How can you be so very, very good at practically everything, yet your hair is a constant disaster?” A slim redhead wearing a fancy purple gown with red ruffles, her hand wrapped around a champagne glass half-full of orange juice, pointed toward Myrna, who stood in front of the three-way mirror, holding her hair bunched up and smooshed awkwardly under a pale cream veil. A matching cream bridal gown, gathered tight across the beaded bodice and waist before erupting in endless layers of organza ruffles, hugged Myrna’s body and completed the picture of a cheery—if slightly tipsy—bride.

  Myrna stuck her tongue out at her friend, but let her hair fall back into place. “I know. I just wish I’d thought to bring a rubber band or something so I could see how it looks with my hair up. I found a style I like with a mix of braids and curls and probably more pins than I want to think about. Poor Akisha, I’m getting sympathy hand cramps already thinking about all the time it will take her, but she seemed excited.”

  “Well here, I probably can’t handle the braids, but I can get your hair out of the way.” The redhead looked around the room, and then snatched up the pencil that had been lying on a table before walking over to Myrna. She grabbed her hair, did a couple of complicated-looking twists, and stabbed the pencil directly through the middle.

  Amazingly, the pencil stayed exactly as she’d placed it.

  Myrna turned her head from one side to the other as she gazed into the mirror. “Huh. It actually doesn’t look half bad.”

  Bridal Visions’ head wardrobe consultant—Glenda, I think—stood beside Myrna, expertly tucking and pinning all of the areas of her gown that would require adjustment. Another woman, shorter and with brown hair, sat on one of the stools and sipped from her glass as she watched Myrna primp. “I still think you’re the bravest person alive.”

  I had to guess she was the other bridesmaid, considering she wore a dress similar in style to the redhead’s, only in a rich dark red instead of purple.

  “For what? Letting Akisha stab me in the head with a million hair pins? Probably. I should get a medal or something.” Myrna snickered at her own joke before turning back to the mirror to watch as Glenda tugged at the top of the strapless dress for another adjustment.

  “No, you’re brave because you’re wearing white to a wedding where you’re serving dragons a live dinner. I can’t be trusted with my own lunch half the time, but I’ve never managed to escort a dragon through DRACIM’s livestock pens without needing a change of clothes afterward.”

  “And that, dear Sara, is why I love having you as my assistant. I haven’t seen the livestock pens in over a month.”

  Sara gave the redhead a wry smile. “See, Carol? I told you all we’d need to do is get her liquored up, and she’d spill the secret surrounding these not-so-hideous bridesmaid dresses. She was hoping that we’d be so blinded by how fabulous we looked in them, that we wouldn’t notice she picked red and purple so we’d feel honor bound to jump in front of her if the dragons got a little messy with their food.”

  Carol walked over to stand beside Myrna, every inch of her graceful and poised, despite her lack of shoes. “I don’t care why she picked them. I love them.” In mock seriousness, she grabbed Myrna’s shoulders and turned her until they stood face to face. “I hereby solemnly swear—” Carol paused to duck her head for a quick snigger, “—to repel any and all staining agents from your presence for the full duration of the reception.”

  Myrna laughed, but her expression grew serious as she gazed unseeing into the mirror. “If stains were the only thing I had to worry about, I’d be a lot happier. I don’t want you guys to get hurt.”

  Sara stood up from her seat and joined them at the mirror, giving Myrna’s bare shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry about us. We both know how to take care of ourselves. Besides, isn’t that why you have Cameron? He’s supposed to worry for you so you have more time to drink and prance around in your princess outfit.”

  Sara smiled and met Cameron’s eyes. He took the cue.

  Stepping further into the room, he struck a pose, causing Myrna to giggle. “Someone mentioned there was a job opening for a man who rescues princesses while looking damn good doing it. I hear you have a tux I need to try on.”

  All I could do was stare. I’d never seen the silly side of Cameron. I hadn’t even thought he had one. And I definitely didn’t know he was part of the wedding party.

  Myrna, however, didn’t seem surprised at all. She turned, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “You made it. Took you long enough to get here.”

  I watched, captivated, as Cameron walked over to place a kiss on Myrna’s head. I hadn’t realized they knew each other that well.

  “Sorry. I had some things to finish up at Relobu’s. I got word that Doeho and Isiwyth are on their way.”

  “Excellent. They’re right on time. Glenda was just finishing up with me. I’ll get changed and go out to meet them.”

  I assumed “out” meant to the Bridal Visions’ garage, which I’d spent one afternoon helping clean out so the shop would have somewhere to host their very first dragon bridesmaid.

  Cameron snagged a wardrobe bag from the wall. “Wait until I can go with you.”

  Frustration flickered across Myrna’s face, but she nodded. I was glad to see I wasn’t the
only one irritated by near-constant supervision.

  Cameron stepped into one of the open dressing areas, pulling the curtain closed behind him. Feeling awkward at being the stranger in the room, not to mention severely underdressed in my jeans, I was just about to quietly slip around the group and duck into the pastry shop when Myrna turned to me.

  “Savannah, I’m so sorry. I’d like you to meet my friends, Carol and Sara. Carol was my roommate up until last year, and Sara works with me at DRACIM.”

  Sara shook my hand, murmuring a welcome. I turned to greet Carol, but my empty palm was suddenly filled with a champagne glass instead of the hand I’d been expecting.

  “Nice to meet you, Savannah.”

  I looked around, trying to determine what propriety required when a Bridal Visions’ client offered an employee alcohol. Glenda noticed my panic, raised an eyebrow and tipped her half-empty glass in my direction.

  Okay then. I took a sip of the mimosa, wondering whether Amanda would approve of drinking on the job.

  As if my thoughts had magically summoned her, Amanda walked into the room, surveyed the crowd...and smiled. And not one of her flimsy, pandering smiles that she used with cash-cow brides like Myrna, but a genuine expression of contentment. It was the first time I’d realized how much she loved her job.

  Straightening her suit, she started toward the pack of girls, but froze as Cameron emerged from the dressing room. I understood why. He looked good in a dress shirt. He looked even better in a casual tee. But my faith in God was reaffirmed when I got a look at him in a tuxedo. Broad shoulders, slim waist and tall enough for his muscular thighs to look amazing instead of freakishly large, Cameron was a vision in black and white. If I was still a teenage girl, his poster would get prime real estate on my bedroom wall.

  Amanda must have thought the same thing, because she reached out, snagged Glenda by the arm, and whispered something furiously into the woman’s ear. Glenda looked at Cameron, widened her eyes, and scurried from the room, only to return moments later with a camera.

  Cameron, seemingly immune to the attention, spent a couple of minutes chatting with Myrna and checking his watch as Glenda snapped pictures left and right. It seemed Amanda had been serious about starting a new ad campaign, because it wasn’t long before she started nudging the ladies this way and that, lining them up in various poses directly in front of her mannequin displays.

  The women, high on life and a copious amount of alcohol, were only too happy to comply, and Myrna secured Amanda’s promise to send her copies of the prints as soon as they were developed. Cameron was amenable to the situation for a while, but it wasn’t long before he leaned down to murmur into Myrna’s ear.

  “Isiwyth!” Myrna, still dressed in her ridiculously fluffy wedding gown, grabbed a hunk of the material on her train and stomped toward the garage. Apparently the dragons had arrived.

  * * *

  Amanda had forced Myrna to pin up the train of her dress before heading outside, in an effort to keep the dirt from staining the hem before the wedding. Myrna, with much urging and rolling of eyes from Carol, did as she was asked, but it was clear she was more interested in seeing her friends.

  As expected, two large dragons waited outside. The larger of the two, a male with silver scales, stood back with an indulgent smile as his mate, a lavender dragon with crimson-painted claws, oohed and aahed over Myrna’s wedding dress.

  “Oh, I’d hoped you’d bring your dragonlings with you! I haven’t seen them in ages. Are they still growing like crazy?”

  The female dragon chortled, then dug into the satchel strapped to her side. “I brought pictures!”

  Myrna and Sara huddled around the photos, oohing and aahing right back.

  The entire scene—two dragons, glamorous gowns and humans sporting all manner of smiles, both nervous and delighted—was completely surreal. Amanda and Glenda, now joined by a very nervous-looking April, stood back from the dragons and watched it all with the same slightly bewildered look I’m sure I wore.

  Glenda snapped a few more pictures.

  “Myrna met Isiwyth a year ago when the dragon came in to negotiate reparations for some livestock she’d eaten that didn’t belong to her. She was pregnant at the time, and now Myrna can’t get enough of the babies.” I was startled to hear Cameron’s voice so close to my ear, having lost him earlier in the crowd.

  “They seem very comfortable with each other.”

  Cameron laughed. “Definitely more comfortable than the Bridal Visions crew. I keep waiting to see when Myrna realizes Glenda is too scared to take charge and get Isiwyth into her bridesmaid garb.”

  It was then that I noticed Glenda gripping a large bolt of fabric in the same crimson shade used on Sara and Carol’s gowns. April held a smaller strip of the same, and was eying Doeho like he was a spitting cobra and she the person holding the pillowcase to catch him in. I guess the comparison wasn’t far off. Based on my previous experience with humans, they had a hard time telling the difference between a dragon’s smile and the baring of teeth. It was likely April didn’t realize that Doeho had no intention of harming anyone here.

  I looked at Cameron, still sporting the tuxedo, a crimson handkerchief in the lapel pocket. “So you’re in the wedding, huh?”

  “Yep. Trian roped me into it. We’re friends from a ways back. Through high school...well, let’s just say we were both a little different, and we managed to get into more trouble than your average kids.”

  I studied his face. While he had to know I was looking, he kept his eyes on the rest of the wedding party. He’d said both he and Trian were a little different. Trian’s version of “different” wasn’t too hard to guess, but Cameron seemed completely normal.

  Okay, if I were honest, I’d been curious about his background for some time now. There was something about him that intrigued me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t just that he was drop-dead gorgeous. He was reserved, yes, but I’d known private people—heck I was one of those private people—and never felt the urge to peel away a couple of layers to find out what was under the calm, cool exterior they presented to the world. As odd as it felt, I’d just about decided I was simply attracted to him.

  Not only his looks, but the whole package.

  And I didn’t really know what to do about it. I imagine most people would strike up a flirtation. But it wasn’t often that I flirted. Even if I ignored the fact that I was rarely in one city under my own name long enough to meet a guy, the idea of dating seemed a little pointless.

  Simon was basically the only person—other than Emma, who had grown up with a dragon ferrying her from country to country every time daddy got a new job—that handled my dragon morph secret without completely freaking out. Even Jeanie got a little jumpy when I combined the scales with a good temper tantrum. But not Simon. I guess it’s hard to be afraid of someone—even if they turn into a dragon—when you’ve seen them smash their face into the ground while trying to learn to ride a bike.

  In all honesty, I was completely freaked out the first time I’d started to shift. Not because I thought I was going to develop a craving for deep-fried femur, but because I thought I was dying of an unknown disease.

  I’d been fourteen, and Simon and I were building tents near the pond behind our school. I’d lain down to take a nap in the sun, and was drifting to sleep when a jackrabbit leapt out from behind a tuft of dried grass less than a foot from my head. I’d screamed, and pulled my arms up to protect myself from the as-yet-unidentified threat, only to notice that my hand had morphed into the clawed paw of a monster. The additional adrenaline in my system helped complete the process, and soon I was roaring instead of screaming.

  Simon, God bless him, had arrived before I’d fully morphed, and was able to connect the dots a lot faster than me. He’d calmed me down and waited until I’d figured out how to morph back to my human form before offering his shirt and taking me home.

  For the remainder of my teenage years, I struggled to com
e to terms with being a dragon morph. It had never entered my head that I could expect someone else—Simon excepted—to handle the truth of what I was.

  But then I hit my early twenties, and I met a guy. He was sweet, he was funny, and I thought I loved him. So one day, I drummed up the courage to sit down and tell him what I was really doing when I disappeared to “flight school.”

  He’d had the typical “oh, my God, it’s a giant lizard” response shared by most humans when in the presence of dragons. He acted as if the instant I’d morphed, I’d ceased being myself, and he was in dire danger of being swallowed whole. Needless to say, the response hadn’t done our relationship any favors. We parted ways less than a month later. Thinking I’d have better luck dating a dragon, I tried it, but realized all my years of being simply human had made it impossible for me to relate to a person who’d been a dragon since birth, and had none of my shared experiences.

  Since then, my dating life had been non-existent. So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my palms were sweating, and my mind—which could usually work fast enough to pull a con on just about anyone—was blank.

  “Would you like to get a drink? I mean with me, sometime?”

  Cameron’s eyes zeroed in on mine. I took another sip of champagne to hide my nerves, realizing that I had to focus to keep my hands from trembling. Ironic that I had no trouble when picking locks or navigating pressure sensors, but waiting on his answer had me shaking in my shoes.

  “I’d like that.” He smiled, and breath left my lungs in relief. I was twenty-four years old, and I’d just asked out my first boy.

  Chapter Nine

  We didn’t get much time to talk after that, because Amanda decided I should be earning my paycheck and assigned me to translate for Isiwyth and Doeho during their fittings. The dragons were good sports, and did their best to look un-intimidating for the sake of the rest of Bridal Visions’ staff. It wasn’t long until Glenda and April had Isiwyth draped in her “hood,” a cape of sorts fashioned to lie between her wings and across her shoulders, the ends of the fabric skimming the ground. Held together at the base of her neck with a pearl clasp, the cloak was surprisingly attractive, and I made a mental note to look into something similar for when I was in dragon form and feeling fancy.