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He sighed as the door closed softly behind her and turned to enter his own room, right next door. Just a thin wall between him and her. That was it.
He really needed to keep himself in check.
It was only day one, and he was already enchanted by her.
If he went on like this, fake dating Min wouldn’t feel fake at all.
It would feel like the real deal.
Min woke with a start to a loud crash, followed by a tinkling sound, like glass breaking. And some very loud cussing.
She sat bolt upright in bed, struggling for a moment to work out where she was.
Then she remembered. She wasn’t in her bed above the bookshop.
She was in a dragon’s home.
More loud cussing, but not in a language she understood. Then a plume of light backlit the curtains. Something was going on outside.
Flames.
Goddess on high. Was that Ethan fire-breathing?
An answering plume of fear skittered down her spine. She’d really thought Ethan was trustworthy. Her whole being had felt safe with him. But what if in the middle of the night he turned into a monster—of the unpleasant kind?
Yanking back the covers, Min ran to the window and flung it open. There, lying sprawled on the manicured lawn below, was a dragon.
But it wasn’t Ethan.
This dragon was smaller than Ethan. It was writhing and kicking its leather-clad legs around, flapping its wings, and yes, shooting great arcing flames from its nostrils.
“What the fuck, Beau?” The shout came from the balcony next to her. Turning her head, she saw a very irate-looking Ethan, all the scales on his head and back standing up. She also noticed—gulp—that he was naked from the waist up. And his chest muscles were ripped and powerful and golden and glimmering.
Not the moment to notice that, Min.
“Who closed my fucking bedroom window?” Beau screamed from below.
Min noticed now that there were shards of glass scattered around the dragon, who’d propped himself up on his elbows and was glowering up at them—well, at Ethan, to be precise. Min stepped back into the shadows. The smaller dragon’s eyes were bright yellow and pissed to the max, and he seemed to be able to throw flames a loooong way.
Already a bush was alight in the garden.
“I closed your window!” Ethan shouted back.
“What the fuck for?”
“To teach you that it’s not okay to party mid-semester.”
“Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you.”
The language then descended into something she guessed was dragonish, and equally insulting, judging by its tone.
Finally, a winged figure swathed in a billowing satin dressing gown flew out from a window on the other side of the house, wailing and puffing little bursts of flame and smoke as she descended. “Oh my baby boy, are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. Get off me, Mom.” Beau sat up, pushing her away. A staff member ran past with a fire hydrant and began to put out the fires that had sprouted in the shrubbery.
“I think I’ve broken my wing,” Beau whined, standing up and flexing his shoulder blades.
