Mal’s interplanetary empire was crumbling around his claws.

“You will, of course, drop everything and return to Draconis to be married,” his mother declared from the wall screen.

His blood beat in his ears.

Each word stabbed into his all-too-human chest.

His mother was in full dragon form. Jewels tinkled from the two long, tapered horns above her eye ridges. Silver studs twinkled in her scaly gold lips and snout.

The red skies of their ancestral home, a rim planet outside Draconis, gleamed behind her.

“You are wordless with happiness,” she said.

He tried to swallow. His throat closed. He managed to choke out his question. “What punishment is this?”

“Punishment?” She laughed gaily. “No, my dragonlet, be proud of your accomplishments. You have done extremely well on this backward little planet, Earth.” Her gaze moved to take in the rest of the conference room. “I’m exceedingly proud of all of you.”

His siblings sat around the conference table at the Onyx Corporation headquarters, an office building in the middle of a field in Vancouver, Washington.

Only five could be gathered on this short notice. They all had red eyes, sick expressions, and strong cups of coffee.

“That is why the Empress of Draconis has recognized you, Mal, with her offer of marriage. As I told you two hours ago. Why did you call this conference instead of leaving Earth immediately to take her claw?”

“We must discuss the future of my company.”

“It has no future. The Empress will claim it as part of the marriage, and she has chosen to dissolve it.”

The blood in his ears beat louder. “But why? We rank second of all businesses operating outside Draconis!”

“The Empress sees no need for two clothiers.”

Curse Sard Carnelian for existing!

Mal paced at the end of the conference table. His gray houndstooth suit flapped.

The Onyxes and the Carnelians had both arrived on Earth five years ago, surprising the locals. Earth lacked essential minerals for space travel, and humans lacked the gene for shifting, so their planet had been ignored as a backwater on the edge of the Empire for centuries.

But their isolation had inspired them to create ingenious works of art, music, and culture. Clothes—for decorating the dragon shifters’ human forms—became an instant hit on Draconis, and the two companies couldn’t import it fast enough.

Because it was decorative rather than functional, its possession was unrestricted. Every strata of society, from the lowest bastard male dragonlet to the Empress herself, enjoyed draping their human forms in stunning patterns and soft cloths.

But no matter how many new outfits the Onyx Corporation launched, Carnelian Clothiers beat them.

Was it because the CEO, Sard Carnelian, was an aristocrat?

No. The Onyxes would pull ahead. It would happen at the next launch. So what that Mal hadn’t slept in three weeks? He scrubbed his red eyes. He just had to work harder.

Except now the Empress wanted to marry him and shut down his company. “Can’t you save it?”

“And I don’t see the need for two clothiers either.”

Her declaration hit him like a fist.

The ground fell away. His loafers dangled.

Trace elements of stellarium present in dragon shifter bodies activated during a shock. Even though he was in human form, he floated several inches off the ground.

“You may very well be surprised.” Her dragon eyes flashed with anger. “For while you have all been off amusing yourselves at the ends of the Empire, you forgot the one thing I required you to produce.”

“Which was?” he asked faintly.

“Grand dragonlets!”

He hit the ground with a thump. “Dragonlets?”

“Ferocia Carnelian has twenty-five! Her last grand dragonlet was just born. Do you know how many fire teas I have attended where only I have no grand dragonlets? You are my only hope, and you have failed me!”

He gritted his teeth. “After we reach number one, we’ll attract the best females.”

She blew a raspberry. “You could marry a brimstone miner for all I care.”

His siblings rustled uncomfortably in their suits. Their father had been a brimstone miner, and she’d had seven dragonlets with him.

“But since you haven’t married a brimstone miner or anyone else, I will take the marriage arrangements that have been offered.”

Back on Draconis. Ending the business he had poured his life, soul, and pride into.

This betrayal felt as hot and as raw as the Lower Academy Commencement Day. He had broken all the rules to present himself to his mother—and she, knowing his snooty grandparents were looking on, had ruthlessly forced herself to turn away and deny him.

He raked a hand through his hair. “This is too sudden.”

“I have waited months!” His mother rested the back of a clawed hand on her scaled forehead. “I’m going to be dead before I see any grand dragonlets.”

His brother Alex leaned forward. His unusual two-tone eyes, one lavender and one teal, accented his handsome looks. “Mother, you’re too young to have grand dragonlets. Ferocia must be half dead if she has so many.”

Their mother fanned herself, mildly appeased. “Yes, well, you mustn’t say such things aloud.”

He smiled and shook his head.

“Anyway, Mal, come home now. Your wedding to the Empress will take place tomorrow.”

Too soon.

He flexed his fingers. His green scales shimmered beneath his human skin. “Why me? We are not an important family. And I am a low caste!”

“The Empress recognizes a winner when she sees one.”

His chest warmed. There was no glimmer of doubt in his mother’s eyes, only steadfast belief. She honestly thought his own qualities made him worthy of the Empress.

He didn’t. “There must be some other reason.”

“I didn’t care to ask. You will marry her and get to work making me bouncy, adorable, ferocious little dragonlets.”

Mal’s sister Amber, chief financial officer, cleared her throat. “Isn’t the Empress too old for dragonlets? She’s nearly on her deathbed.”

Their mother shrugged. “A miracle is possible.”

“And didn’t she chew the arm off her last husband?”

“Rumors.” Their mother tutted. “And anyway, Mal, you are a good son and will not make her angry.”

Amber—as well as the rest of the siblings—widened their eyes and rolled their lips to keep objections from bursting out. They had spent a good deal of time in the office building with Mal on Earth. Their mother had not.

“Please reconsider,” Amber said tightly.

“Please,” Alex said. “Mother.”

“Mal is forceful,” Jasper, steadfast chief operations manager, said in his reasonable way. “He wasn’t raised in the palace. They won’t understand the ways of a dragon from the Outer Rim.”

Mal’s chest warmed again. His siblings, who had once barely shown an interest in meeting him, were now fighting to protect him.

Their mother sniffed. “He will alter his behavior in ways befitting a full-blooded aristocrat.”

That was the other thing.

The Empress’s consort was automatically elevated to the aristocracy because she was the matriarch of the Empire. No one overruled her. As soon as she married Mal, he would have all the money, fame, and privileges he could ever desire.

The Onyx name would be inscribed on the walls of the palace. His mother would receive preferential treatment and a permanent seat at court. The family would gain an estate on Draconis and an exclusive apartment within the capital, along with all the goods associated with being centrally situated. Powerful families would try to gain their favor and make alliances.

If Mal did happen to father a female dragonlet with the Empress, she might even become a future ruler.

And after the Empress passed, assuming he still had both his arms, he’d be ideally placed to attract another aristocratic female for a second wife. He might consult in matters of state or foreign treaties. He could, behind the scenes, alter the entire face of the Empire.

It sounded great.

For someone else.

Mal didn’t want to be an aristocrat. He didn’t want to be elevated over his siblings. What might the Empress make him do? His grandmother had rejected their low-caste father and denied their existence. He would never do that.

Plus the Empress intended to destroy their company.

Even if she didn’t, he could never take pride in making his company number one. He wanted to prove a bastard male from the Outer Rim could beat the aristocrats. How could he if he was an aristocrat married to the Empress?

No. Leaving behind Earth, this company, and Sumatran extra-dry roast for a crusty old dragoness rumored to chew males’ arms off wasn’t the success he’d imagined at all.

He grabbed his cooling coffee and slugged back the sharp drink. He needed to think.

“The rest of you will marry aristocratic females the Empress selects,” their mother continued.

Jasper swallowed. “I’m sorry, Mother. I can’t do that.”

Her eyes turned a dangerous shade of black. Her nostrils flared, and smoke curled out of them. Little flickers of flames breathed through her prominent teeth. “And why is that?”

“I already have a female I love.”

“Oh.” Her eyes returned to normal, and the smoke dissipated. “Why hasn’t she been introduced?”

“I’m still pursuing her.”

Her eyes swirled to black again. “If you have not so much as performed a single mating flight, then I am no closer to grand dragonlets. End this foolishness and come home.”

He faced her anger steadily. “Earth females are different. They take more time to decide upon their mates.”

“How long?”

“It does not matter because I love her.”

Their mother shook her head, ruffling all her scales. A rainbow of colors shimmered across her iridescent coat. “Very well. I expect an introduction, or you will come home and marry Adviser Wrathmoda.”

He nodded, sat back, and folded his hands. The light- and dark-brown bands in his jasper-colored eyes reflected his steady mood. Although he did not look pleased, his execution had been stayed.

Wait. That meant—

“I too cannot return,” Alex said swiftly. “I also have an Earth female I am pursuing.”

Their mother’s eyes darted to him and narrowed. “You too? Really?”

“And I,” Mal said.

She rested on him for a long, burning moment.

He held his breath.

Her skeptical gaze flicked to Kyanite. “And you too, I suppose?”

The hulking, scarred security officer nodded silently.

She flattened her lips. “Where are Pyrochlore and Flint?”

“The vice president is in prison,” Alex said. “And our research and development lead is beyond the reach of our communicators tonight. I, uh, believe they also have females.”

Her eyes narrowed to glittering slits. “So, you all have Earth females you are pursuing. Fine. I will tell the Empress there has been a delay, and I will come myself to meet all these Earth women you intend to affiance. I will see you in two days.”

The broadcast cut out.

A long silence followed. All they did was breathe.

This was a disaster.

Mal rested both fists on the table. “She will not shut down the company. Ideas? Now.”

No one answered.

He looked at the empty seats. Too bad Pyro had decided to celebrate their last launch by disturbing the peace. The loudmouth vice president never had any trouble brainstorming. Even if half the ideas were to go to the Carnelian offices and rip their aristocratic spines out, his few useful gems had put their company on the Outer Planet Rank List and kept it there.

“Good idea to invent a human lover,” Alex told Jasper.

“I didn’t invent her,” Jasper corrected.

Alex’s perfect brows rose.

Mal was also surprised. Jasper really did love a human? When had he found the time?

Earth humans and dragons were essentially the same. Any mixed offspring were dragonlets due to dominant dragon shifting genes. Earth mothers had to tie leashes around their dragon babies to keep them from drifting off.

“We must do something,” Mal ground out, bringing them back to the task at hand. “No one destroys our company. Not even the owner. What can we accomplish in two days?”

They were silent. It seemed hopeless.

He thumped his fist on the table. “We need more time!”

“Our uncle could delay her.” Alex pursed his lips. “She likes the outer nebulas. He could take her on a month-long nebula cruise.”

“Why would our uncle do that?” Amber asked. “He feels uncomfortable around aristocrats, just like our father did.”

“He would agree.” Alex looked away and scratched the back of his neck. “I just have to ask him.”

As their most beautiful and exotic sibling, Alex was one of the few invited to visit the manor during their grandmother’s lifetime. He knew how to speak to aristocrats and frequently seemed to “notice” secrets.

“Will our uncle really be able to convince Mother to go on the cruise?” Jasper asked.

“Yes. I’m certain if he asks, Mother will not refuse.”

“So long as we’re not risking his arms, then okay.” Mal pensively rubbed his own biceps. “That will only delay her. What will stop her in her tracks?”

“Grand dragonlets,” Amber said.

“We need time. Time…to produce grand dragonlets.” Right. That was it. He smacked his hand into his fist. “We need to marry human women.”

“That’s what we implied,” Alex said.

“We need to actually do it.” He wrote on the interactive table: Operation: Dragon Wife. “If one of us produces a dragonlet, Mother will shower her attention on it and forget the rest of us.”

“So you’re looking for a sacrifice,” Alex said. “One of us to go back to Draconis and marry.”

“No, I’m looking for one of us to make our lie real. If a human wife produces a dragonlet, Mother will leave us alone to get on with our work. Here, on Earth.”

He had their attention now.

They’d all had different reasons for crossing half the Empire and helping Mal found this company. Now they had different reasons for staying. He would harness those differences to execute his project and succeed.

“Who is closest to marrying a human?” His question cracked down the conference table.

No one answered.

“Jasper?”

The steady dragon’s lips folded in. He shook his head. “I am not close.”

Mal called on the others in turn. No one had a female to pursue.

“Think,” he demanded. “This is critical to the success of our company. One of us needs to drop everything and pursue an Earth female, and the rest will help him secure her. Who’s it going to be?”

Silence.

He stared hard at Jasper. The operations manager avoided his gaze.

Amber turned to face him. “You’re the CEO. This company is your idea and your responsibility.”

“Agreed,” he barked. “So?”

She regarded him with golden eyes.

Realization heated him, filtering in slowly with tingles of destiny. “You think I should?”

“It is the CEO’s responsibility to manage the company,” she said.

“I must manage it!” he roared. “Not take weeks off to impregnate some Earth female!”

“You’ll have nothing to manage if you don’t.”

His jaw tightened so hard, his teeth ached. She was right. Everyone knew it.

But he couldn’t drop everything. He was the CEO. He’d pulled them all away from their other lives and gathered them here. He was necessary to keeping the company running.

Wasn’t he?

Of course he was. He forced the sliver of fear away. His siblings needed him. They couldn’t throw him away.

He would have to do both.

“Fine,” he ground out. “But tomorrow morning, we also begin the hunt for our next sales product. It may be our last opportunity to challenge Sard Carnelian. I cannot allow the distraction of marriage to change our goal.”

“We will assume your company responsibilities,” Amber promised, and the rest of his siblings nodded in agreement.

The sliver of fear wiggled into a sharp pain. “Not all—”

“All.” Her set face brooked no disagreement. “We will manage the company, Mal. You concentrate on acquiring a wife.”

Today was a good day.

It was product-sample day. Which meant that the dragons of the Onyx Corporation were striding down the hall between their offices half naked, passing Cheryl’s desk without a glance in her direction, flexing gloriously.

Cheryl traced Mal’s rock-hard abs outlined against the sheer silk nightshirt, capturing every bulge and divot. The rough sketch took shape on her digital art tablet. But it was impossible to capture his flashing green eyes or delicious, rough voice.

“This will beat the Carnelians.” The CEO of Onyx Corporation gripped his silk collar, drawing the fabric taut against his broad back. “It feels like sex against the skin.”

She wanted to feel his sex against her skin.

Was that wrong? She’d imagined Mal naked a thousand times in the last six months since she’d gotten this internship and stepped into the world of oversexed dragon shifters who were too hot to be real.

How would it feel? Sex in general, since she had no experience, and with Mal in particular? Him clasping her to his broad chest, panting as he pressed his hard member against her soft cleft… The sinful images teased her like hot tongues licking her forbidden places. She flushed to full awareness.

Jasper, her direct boss, was also shirtless and cut like a male model. He held out his hand. “Give me the sample.”

Mal stripped off the shirt and tossed it at him, revealing his full masculine torso.

Yes. Thank you.

“We must have this,” Mal ordered. “Find me a supplier!”

He stalked, shirtless, to his office and slammed the door.

Even in a gruff mood, he was still breathtakingly gorgeous. All the aliens were. Apparently, their scouts had visited Earth hundreds of years ago and started the lore about dragons, so their reappearance just a few years ago, while shocking at the time, had already worn off to normal.

And anyway, they all looked like Superman in their human forms. Hard bodies, impossible good looks, and possessing a penchant for defying gravity and floating around.

They rarely took dragon form. Mal had transformed once in front of Cheryl. He’d pissed off his sister and scrambled out a window to escape her fiery rage.

One moment, he’d been standing in the hallway in a casual gray suit, ordering Amber to redo the year-end reports for the fifth time. “And this time, do it right!”

Amber had dropped her file folders, fluttering to the carpet, and turned to him.

Mal had backed up. “Uh…when you have time.”

Amber burst through her quiet wool dress and turned a golden-honey color. She was a dragon straight out of a storybook. Her wings spread wide, smashing the hallway and breaking the drywall.

The other dragons had scattered.

“I said when you had time!”

Red fire glowed in her throat.

He flinched and flexed at the same moment, as if he’d been doused with a bucket of water. Iridescent green scales emerged all over his body, slicing through his suit. The fabric dropped off him in shreds. His fingers and toes elongated, bursting through the leather shoes, and dug into the carpet as he wheeled away. His nose and mouth elongating while his forehead flattened over eye ridges and his cheeks drew back. In human form, he towered over Amber, but in dragon form, he was half Amber’s size.

Amber ambled on four clawed dragon feet toward Mal.

He fled. Moments later, his form zoomed outside the building, a flaming female dragon chasing right behind him.

As a consequence, Cheryl realized the otherwise quiet, staid Amber was a wild card who might snap at any moment.

Mal she didn’t worry about. They’d spent the last six months in close quarters because her desk was outside his office. He was too gorgeous, too focused, too busy to ever notice her hopeless crush.

Jasper carried Mal’s silk shirt past her desk. “Good morning, Cheryl.”

His greeting made the temperature rise a hundred degrees. Her throat closed and her hands started to shake. She muttered syllables she hoped his alien language translator made sound like a greeting and coughed.

He paused. “Are you working on graphic design?”

Cheryl nodded and slid a stack of papers over her incriminating tablet screen.

“Great. Mal will want to discuss your logo soon.”

She tried to smile. She couldn’t stop staring at the silk shirt. It had touched Mal’s bare body. Was it wrong to want to touch it herself? It was weird. Definitely weird. She licked her lips.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work,” Jasper said and returned to his office.

The empty hallway quieted.

She covered her burning cheeks. Cheryl tried not to draw the attention of the dragons. She didn’t want to give them a terrible impression of the human race.

The outline of the dragon-shifter torso on the tablet made her drool. She made sure the hall was still empty, and then she added in highlights and shadows, toning up the triceps, etching in the bench-pressing biceps.

The quiet murmur of the other employees—about ten upper-level managers in a small cubicle labyrinth behind her—mixed with paper shuffling and keyboard clicks. The layout had created a corridor from the elevator to the vacant “head” office. Soft cubicle walls lined one side, and the drywall of the offices lined the other.

Her cubicle opened to the corridor, and her desk faced the VIP offices. The manager who’d had it before her had switched floors to avoid the constant distraction.

She could understand. From here, she could enjoy every well-muscled male coming and going. It was delicious torture.

But the nearness to Mal’s office had also saved her.

On her first week of the internship, a manager harassed her about going to the cafeteria at lunchtime. Cafeterias horrified her. They forced her to relive public school, having no friends and nowhere to sit, and being called fatso and red-face and tomato-girl.

This manager just wouldn’t accept her eating a bag of chips and a soda at her desk.

Mal had strode out of his office about the time she was saying—well, mumbling—that if it wasn’t required, she please didn’t want to go.

“Mal, tell her.” The manager called him over. “The intern needs to leave for her breaks. Eating at her desk makes a mess, and it’s unprofessional.”

Her face had heated like a radiator. Now she would get chastised by the CEO. She was, very possibly, going to die right there.

Instead, Mal had snapped at the manager. “She’s working. Leave her alone.”

“But—”

“I eat at my desk all the time. Are you going to come into my office and tell me it’s unprofessional?”

“She’s in the public—”

“I’d rather see my employees at their desks working than wandering the halls harassing my interns.”

The manager closed his mouth.

Cheryl dared to look up.

Mal glared at the other manager. He wasn’t angry. He was just completely on her side and had no qualms about saying so.

That powerful certainty, decisively saying what he meant without fear and expressing himself easily… His confidence was even more gorgeous than his sculpted body or chiseled face.

The manager cleared his throat and excused himself. Mal walked off.

Cheryl fell in love.

If she could be only a little tiny bit like Mal, her life would drastically improve.

For example, she’d already be done with her senior advertising art portfolio, which was currently missing the three final pieces necessary for graduation.

“Cheryl!” Mal roared from inside his office.

Her hand jolted, drawing a thick, black line across the tablet. Her heart thumped. She closed the drawing of Mal’s lickable torso and jerked to her feet.

A second later, the door banged open. Mal was covered again, this time in a loose gray dress shirt and jacket, looking carelessly gorgeous, like he’d just gotten out of bed. His green eyes focused on her with electrifying intensity.

“Get in here!”

Her heart thumped. She hurried to obey. Mal summoned everyone with a roar, so that wasn’t why she was nervous.

He usually remained in the doorway. She had to squeeze through. Which meant they might accidentally touch.

She was a wide woman, and Mal towered over her, filling the narrow space. She sucked in her gut to avoid him. Her navy-blue hoodie brushed his suit jacket.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

He didn’t notice. He was already yelling down the hall for Flint and Pyro.

Her heart thudded hard. Yes! Another precious memory.

Crushing on Mal was safe and harmless. He would never be conscious of her the way she was overly conscious of him. His other siblings might suspect something, but he never would.

His office was big and open and overlooked the parking lot. Ah, scenic Vancouver. The “normal” suburb of Portland, Oregon that happened to be over the border in Washington State. They’d erected this building in an old field so they could tether a spaceship to it the way a cowboy ground-hitched a horse. Lights glowed at all times on the flat underside so airplanes wouldn’t crash into it on their flights into PDX.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

She parked her jeans-clad butt in one of the giant executive chairs.

Alex, the sales manager, sat across from her and rested a slender ankle on his knee. His eyes were arresting. The left one was bluish-green and the right one was dark lavender. Like Mal, he was named after the mineral that his coloring most resembled. His perfect suit had no lint, and his blond hair never fell out of place.

He terrified her.

“Hello, Cheryl.”

She jolted as though he had yelled, and her teeth clicked together painfully on her tongue. She whimpered and covered her mouth.

His perfect brows drew together. His charming smile was just a little too knowing, as though he was well aware his beauty exerted a power over her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded so hard, her chin hit her hand. Her teeth bit her lip. Her mouth tingled, and her eyes filled with tears.

He took pity on her and rose. “I’ll make you a tuxedo mocha.”

She coughed to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he was already crossing the room, humming to himself as he ground the gourmet beans and measured them into Mal’s always-on espresso maker.

God. What was wrong with her?

If only beautiful people like Alex didn’t make her nervous. If only people, in general, didn’t freak her out every time they looked, gestured, or spoke to her. If only she wasn’t so awkward.

If only she could be more confident and expressive, like Mal…

Mal returned to the office. “Where’s Pyro?”

“Prison, still.” Alex tamped the espresso, pushed it into the machine, and positioned the shot glass. All the dragons were expert baristas. It was like some weird dragon skill. “Nairobi or Istanbul.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“He started the night at a harem. The question is where he finished it. Kyanite is investigating.”

“Of all the timing.” Mal pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you doing?”

“Cheryl needed something to drink.” Alex put the steaming mug of half dark chocolate, half white chocolate mocha in front of her and returned to his seat.

“Fine. She has it. Cheryl, ready?”

She carefully held the warm ceramic. “Yes.”

He launched into the crux of the meeting. “Six months ago, you designed four logos for our company. The internship application only required three. Your impressive dedication to exceeding expectations is one of the reasons we hired you. Today, we are reviewing your logos.”

On the wall, he put up the four vector images.

She squirmed. Wasn’t it just a test of her abilities? Didn’t they have a professional logo designed already?

Actually, come to think of it, she’d never seen a logo. But they had never reviewed hers before either. Why now?

“Cheryl, in your professional opinion, which of these logos will convince the Chinese government to sell us their silkworms so we can produce enough pajamas to clothe the entire population of Draconis? Next week?”

Cheryl blinked. “Uh… What?”

Mal waited.

The dragons wanted to buy all the silkworms in China? To make silk pajamas? Next week? “I’m not sure your logo will make a difference.”

“Our logo will appear on our company letterhead.”

Yes, she knew what logos were for. “I, uh, made these, so I might not be the best judge.”

He nodded wisely. “Of course you put in your full effort on every design. All are high quality. Alex?”

She sipped her sweet mocha. Chocolatey coffee warmed her belly while Mal’s approving comments warmed her heart.

Unfortunately, as Mal and Alex discussed the pros and cons of each logo, it became more and more apparent that they had no clue what they were doing.

The three official logos were variations of sharp, pointy, fire-breathing dragons stylized around the label “Onyx.”

“The fourth stands out,” Alex said.

“Is that good or bad?” Mal demanded.

“It is uncommon.”

“Hmm.”

It is uncommon. That was a nice way of putting it. The fourth one was a joke. It was a fat little dragon with big, hopeful eyes holding a placard that said PLEASE HIRE ME.

She had meant it as a plea for herself to get the internship. Now, suddenly, her bosses were seriously considering it as the logo for their billion-dollar company.

“There is a memorable quality,” Alex said.

“I like it,” Mal said.

She flushed hot and cold from pride. They liked her silly drawing.

Her professors and classmates said the silly ones would never make her any money and were a waste of time. That was the whole reason she was behind on her final portfolio. She could draw thirty cute things a day, but she couldn’t draw three “serious” advertising pieces to complete her portfolio.

These dragons didn’t know any better. That made her secretly happy. But it could hurt their business.

She had to tell them it was a joke.

“It is entirely different.” Alex stroked his flawless chin. “There are more colors. It would be expensive as a brand.”

“Expensive is good. We don’t want to appear cheap.”

Cheryl cleared her throat. “Um…”

They both looked at her.

She broke out in a sweat. Her hoodie felt sticky in all the wrong places.

“What?” Mal demanded, gruff, intense, and focused on her. It made her hot in a different way from the embarrassment of speaking up in front of Alex.

She forced the words out. “That one’s a joke.”

“A joke?” He considered her logos again and nodded. “Ah. I see. Human humor.”

Alex also nodded. “We would rather trade with smiles than with daggers.”

But something dangerous in his expression silently added, For now.

She shivered.

“Very well,” Mal said, entirely straightforward and showing none of Alex’s second meanings. “The fourth one is our logo. We’ll print it on everything. At least a million copies.”

“I mean…” She set down the coffee mug so she could twist her sweaty palms. “It’s not supposed to be taken seriously.”

“Yes, good.” He frowned at his own fists. “In some situations, forcefulness causes problems.”

“Humor is disarming,” Alex agreed.

Oh God, they were both going to settle on a cutesy dragon with a placard as their company logo. “Wait! Ask for more opinions.”

“You’re a human. You created this logo.”

“But I’m not, uh, average. Ask another person.”

Mal circled the fourth logo. “I’m satisfied with your work. You always exceed expectations.”

She flushed hot and cold again. Tears burned behind her eyes. He was the only one satisfied with her work. She was going to fall in love with him even harder.

Alex tilted his head. “Cheryl, you are upset.”

She hid her eyes behind her hand. “No, I’m fine.”

“Mal, Cheryl’s upset.”

“She said she’s fine.” He took her at her word, respecting her without looking up from his notations. “A million copies…”

Alex leaned forward. “Still, the idea of a test audience is not bad. We conduct them on Draconis before launching our products. We should do so before launching our logo.”

“I want this logo done tonight so I can open negotiations in the morning.”

“Mal. We are supposed to take over your responsibilities.”

His eyes glowed malachite-green, and his lips peeled back from his white teeth.

Alex tensed.

Mal’s hard body vibrated with rage. “I run this company.”

The two dragons faced each other. Mal clenched his fists, pure dominant male crackling with power. Alex’s nostrils flared, and he placed his palms on the table.

The air grew so tense, it felt like a string was about to snap.

Cheryl shifted in her seat. This was between the two of them. The dragons rarely did more than posture, especially the guys. Only Amber had ever snapped.

Alex’s charming smile emerged like a shield, and his tone softened, apologetic. “That is why we all depend on you to ensure there remains a company to run.”

Mal blinked. His rage turned away from Alex toward something that Cheryl couldn’t see, and he snarled his fury at the thick carpet. “Curse them.”

Alex’s shoulders relaxed halfway. Alert, but no longer prepared for a fight. “We will have a company, Mal.”

Mal’s fingers flexed to claws and back to human hands. The scales shimmered green, and his nails lengthened and receded like the blades of the X-Men character Wolverine. He fought to control himself.

This must be about their arch rival, Carnelian Clothiers.

There were five or six dragon families living on Earth, but only one family had copied Mal’s idea and specialized in clothes. They must be doing something underhanded to keep beating Mal.

She wanted to get up and put her arms around Mal, stroke those shimmery scales and vibrating muscles and tell him that everything would be fine. It would be fine because he would work tirelessly. His hard work and passion would be rewarded.

And then, while she was stroking the scales on his hands, she’d continue on up his hard forearms to his bulging, lickable biceps, and—

“A test audience. Fine.” Mal stalked to the office door and screamed down the hall, “Jeanine? Darcy? Rose? Get in here!”

Jeanine, their front desk receptionist, arrived first. She was in her early fifties, a heavy smoker, and a retiree of the State Department who’d been held hostage in foreign embassies more times than she could count. She’d once assured Cheryl that these flying, fire-breathing, monster aliens were not the scariest people she’d ever worked for; not by a long shot.

Darcy and Rose crowded in behind her.

Jeanine asked flatly, “What do you want?”

Mal gestured at the four logos. “Which one?”

Jeanine raised an unimpressed brow. “Which one what?”

“Which is the friendliest?” Mal barked. “The most disarming?”

Jeanine studied the logo samples for less than a second. “The last one. Is that all?”

“That is all.”

She left.

Ugh. No. Mal was asking all the wrong questions. Cheryl clenched her hoodie.

“Darcy? Answer!”

The tall, stylish man noted Cheryl’s discomfort. He was in his late thirties, liked wearing suits with the sleeves rolled up, and also seemed to enjoy playing with fire. At least he was the only male in the entire company who wasn’t at all afraid of Amber.

Cheryl also didn’t know what Darcy did at the company. Wasn’t he the CEO of a clothing manufacturer in Portland? He was around often enough that Mal shouted for him like a real employee.

His winning smile flashed. “Perhaps you can give us a little more context?”

“We want to make others feel comfortable with our intergalactic distribution of their products.”

“And this artwork is…?”

“The way we will signal our intentions.”

Darcy’s thoughtful lower lip pushed out, and he considered the logos. “Well, the first three are serious company logos. The fourth little guy is just cute.”

Cheryl wrung the fabric between her hands.

“Cute,” Mal repeated.

“You know. Endearing.”

Alex noted Darcy’s answer next to Jeanine’s. “Endearing means to give a warm feeling.”

“I know its meaning,” Mal snapped. “Rose?”

The daytime cleaning lady hugged her elbows with her rubber-glove-clad hands. She didn’t like having the boss spotlight on her any more than Cheryl did. Rose jerked her chin at Darcy. “What they said.”

“Very well. Go.”

They left, closing his office door behind them.

Mal and Alex compared the results. “Three opinions in favor. We’re going with the full-color dragon with a placard. Cheryl, make a clean version to resize.”

She gathered her materials. A cutesy dragon with a placard would appear next to the Nike swoosh, the Starbucks mermaid, and a million other powerful brands.

Maybe she could fix this. His company couldn’t collapse because of her mistake.

There were a few hours left in her internship today. As much as she loved her little dragon, everyone in the art world would know it was stupid.

She’d stay late, present Mal with a more professional design, and insist he use it. If she insisted, he would listen to her.

Her final portfolio would have to wait.

Who needed to graduate?

Mal sat behind his desk and ticked the checklist in his brain.

Flint had researched that the Chinese exchanged business cards. Jasper had never ordered any because the logo wasn’t finalized and other priorities took precedence.

Well, now it was the priority. Thanks to Cheryl, their logo was accomplished and tested. Business cards would be printed. It was time to call China.

Mal opened the manila folder full of contact information.

Alex, who had remained in his office after Mal released Cheryl, pulled the folder from his hand. “I’ll call.”

Rage welled up in Mal. His empty hands flexed for the folder. This is my company. “It can’t wait.”

“It will wait.” His younger brother steeled himself. “We must solve the wife problem first.”

Mal roared.

Alex dropped his chin and bore the brunt of Mal’s frustration.

Mal slammed his fist into the desk, upsetting an empty coffee mug. It rolled off the top and bounced on the carpet.

Alex’s skin shimmered to lavender and turquoise as he fought his own defensive reaction. As an obedient younger brother, he endured his elder’s tantrum. His eyes flashed with anger, but he remained cool and silent.

Pyro would not have endured Mal’s juvenile display. He would have roared at Mal to be an honorable dragon.

That thought stopped Mal. He ended his rage with a snarl.

This wasn’t his company. This company belonged to all of them. Sleep deprivation hurt his head.

Alex sucked in a hard breath and regained control of his colors. He straightened his perfect collar and smoothed the creases of his flawless jacket. The second-youngest Onyx sibling had more patience than Mal deserved.

“Very well.” Mal stood and paced in front of his desk. “Where does one find a wife?”

“I have researched this.” With relief, Alex turned on the wall screen and began his PowerPoint presentation. “On Earth, potential mates find each other in many ways.”

Pictures of park benches, sandy beaches, and couples walking dogs appeared on the screen.

“Once found, these mates look into each other’s eyes and know the other is ‘the one.’”

Mal grunted. On Draconis, it was more common for the female to spray her chosen mate with lustful hormones. Then any nearby males would be instantly driven into the mating frenzy.

Human eyes must have some mesmerizing power. Perhaps hypnosis? He would carefully watch for it.

“Then,” Alex continued, “the male proposes—”

“The male proposes?”

“Yes.” Alex hesitated. “The female can propose, but it is rarer.”

Everything just got much harder. Mal scrubbed his face. “How does the male prevent an uninterested female from becoming enraged and gnawing his arm off?”

“Humans lack frontal blade-incisors.” Alex tapped his flat, human-form teeth. “However, you will need to exercise caution.”

Both dragons chewed on their situation for a long moment. Although they had crossed solar systems and built a billion-coin company, they were shockingly unprepared for this event.

When they’d left their scattered places in the Outer Rim, no female dragon would have ever selected the poor, low-caste males for her partner. Now Empress Horribus wanted Mal for a husband. How things had changed.

Alex cleared his throat. “There is, luckily, an organization called a ‘dating site’ where mate-ready women gather.”

Oh, good. “Excellent research.”

“Flint found it for us.”

“You were able to contact him?”

“Kyan did.”

As a former special operations agent and mercenary, Kyan had access to technology and contacts that none of the rest of them did.

And Flint was… Well, he was Flint.

As the youngest and oddest of the Onyx siblings, Flint regarded the world with gray eyes both all-knowing and weary. He joined Mal because he said it would have no lasting impact on his life; this business idea would end in pain within five years. Mal had challenged his intelligence by promising to prove him wrong. Instead, like most of the strange predictions Flint made from his hidden lair, it was about to be proven right.

No. Mal would thwart this fate.

Alex brought up an internet browser. “I started an account. You must complete these questions. One: What is your ideal day?”

“The day we emerge triumphant over the Carnelians.”

Alex typed in the answer. “Two: What are your qualities, such as strengths and weaknesses?”

How easy. “My strength is lifting fourteen tons, and my weakness is lifting only two tons with my wing-bone fingers.”

Alex’s lips pursed. He was impressed with Mal’s honesty. But only a clear-eyed view of his true strength and weakness could let him run a successful company, so the woman he married also had to know.

“Three: What qualities do you desire in a woman?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

Alex studied it. He also had no idea what it was asking, so they reviewed the answers of other males on the site. “Age, hair color, and other physical descriptors of the female. Also her interests and specializations.”

Huh.

“I have no preference,” he said. Males didn’t prefer females. They went crazy with lust or stayed out of the way.

“The answer is required to proceed.”

Mal leaned back in his chair and tossed out the first words he could imagine to describe attractive females. “Beautiful, kind, unlikely to bite off a male’s snout… Quiet and peaceful, and also shy.”

Alex typed.

An image formed in Mal’s head, and he described her. “She blushes when she speaks. But everything she says is on target. No wasted words. And she’s always working, always drawing her pictures.”

“Like Cheryl?” Alex suggested.

“Yes. With wavy brown hair that comes down to here.” He indicated his shoulder.

“Also like Cheryl.”

“It makes you want to stroke her. And brown eyes that sparkle as though she knows a secret you haven’t figured out.”

And she was soft. Squeezable. His hands palmed the ghostly image of her curves, hugged by the ample jeans and dark, secretive hoodie.

Thinking about Cheryl made a kick in his taut belly and a humming in his blood. It demanded action.

He surged to his feet.

“That finishes the profile,” Alex said. “Now to meet—”

“Forget the profile. I figured out a faster solution.” Mal stormed to the door and threw it open. “Alex, out. Cheryl? Get back in here!”

Mal’s voice roared across the office floor, summoning her back to his office.

Cheryl jumped to her feet. Her chair rolled away with the force of her leap. Was it time to turn in the final logo already? Her redesign sketches were barely past the idea stage.

She gathered what she had, walked around her desk, and headed down the corridor to his office.

Mal waited in the doorway. He studied her intently as she approached. Usually, he was already looking past her to yell for someone else, but this time, his focus intensified on her.

That was odd.

“What is it?” she asked.

“We’re getting married,” he said.

She came to a dead stop in front of him. He was looking at her so seriously that it almost made her blurt, We? We, who? As if he might mean her.

Ha-ha. Him and her? No.

Had her ongoing fantasies clouded her brain? Too much exposure to super-hot dragon shifters caused her to hallucinate? Or was it all the sleepless weeks while she prepared for her finals?

Of course he meant “we” as in him and some other hot, sexy model he expected her to know about, even though she’d never seen him with any female besides the employees. And he treated all of them with the same preoccupied gruffness as he treated her.

He was married to the company. That’s what she would have said if anyone asked.

But now, he was marrying a real person.

He gestured for her to get into his office. “In. Now.”

Cheryl squeezed past the electrifying dragon shifter and entered his office. His announcement echoed in her ears as she headed to her customary seat at the conference table.

What was she doing? Designing the wedding invitations?

“No, come to my desk.”

She rose, followed him over to the ginormous mahogany desk that looked straight out of a ’50s Madison Avenue set, and sat. The leather seat cupped her buttocks. She faced him.

Mal stood framed against a wall of glass. A door was cut into it. The dragon shifters all had doors to an inside, glass-encased, elevator-less shaft they used to shoot up to the roof. As you do when you can fly.

Mal rested his fists on the desk and leaned over at her. “Are you currently married?”

She sat up straight and gripped her tablet in both hands. “No.”

“Are you capable of mating?”

Mating? Her hoodie suddenly felt too hot and tight. Every time she looked at him, she was extremely capable. “Uh… What do you mean?”

“Do you desire sex for the purpose of producing dragonlets?”

Sex. Dragonlets. That was what they called their babies.

Oh God.

He knows. All those times she’d been watching him. Eating him up. Stalking him in her mind. All those times she’d brushed against him and thought he would never notice. He did notice.

Hard shivers ran down her sides. How had this happened? She was quiet, she dressed like she hated her body, and she slipped unnoticed from class to the internship and home again in an infinite, boring cycle of deadlines that didn’t even matter. Except, of course, her final portfolio that would determine whether she graduated with job offers or starved in the street.

He had looked into her mind and read her fantasies. Her whole body pulsed hot, as though he’d opened her innermost secret diary and begun reading the pages. What else did he know?

Mal waited for her answer.

She pinched the sleeves of her hoodie, worrying the soft fabric.

He wasn’t asking her to make babies together. No. There was no way. This was a misunderstanding. He wanted her to design invitations. With baby dragonlets. Yes, that was what it was.

“Um…” Her throat closed, and she cleared it. “You mean…uh, do I want, uh…”

“Sex,” he supplied.

Her heart thundered. His direct answer seemed clear. She squeezed the hoodie sleeve. “With, uh, me and you? Us?”

“Yes.”

No way. No way. No way.

“Er…”

“Yes or no,” he said. “Answer.”

Her voice squeezed higher. It came out a squeak. “Maybe?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His eyes narrowed. “Have you ever bitten the snout, or any other body part, off a male?”

That made her start. “What?”

“You heard the question.”

“Yeah, but…”

His collar was open, giving her a full display of his powerful neck connecting to the rippling muscle of his chest and the upper curves of two gorgeous pectorals.

She swallowed. “Do you mean, like, did I ever bite someone’s head off?”

His striking green eyes widened. “You bite heads off?”

“Not literally.”

His shoulders dropped with visible relief.

She snorted. “It means yelling at someone, and no, not really.”

Wait. Did that mean the dragon shifters literally bit things off each other? Yikes.

But she didn’t ask.

His gaze intensified. He studied her from top to bottom and back up again, stoking heat, which was always burning in her body every time Mal was around, from coals to pulsing, hungry flames. She sucked in a breath, feeding them oxygen.

His gaze tracked on her chest. Rising, falling, rising.

The heat in her body burned brighter.

Could this fantasy be real? She licked her lips.

He saw that. His own lips parted, and his eyes glimmered a brighter green.

Alex knocked at the doorway, shattering the moment, and placed a file on Mal’s desk. “Here is the marriage contract.”

She took a deep breath. Her body glowed and tingled. She rubbed her arms.

Mal growled and thumbed through the papers. Green scales shimmered on his wrists, the same color as his eyes, and disappeared again. Alex bowed and closed the door behind him.

Mal turned the contract to her and forced a pen into her lax hand. “Sign on the line.”

The contract read: “Application for Marriage.”

Her head reeled.

So…she hadn’t misunderstood? He’d meant what he’d said? It wasn’t a hallucination caused by her long-held desires, or she’d hit her head, or spending hours a week near intolerably delicious dragon hotness had caused her mind to snap?

The crisp paper in her hands felt real.

The heavy pen felt real.

The dark, crackling focus in his green eyes and the power in his lithe movements had her heart thumping in a way that was undeniably real.

This couldn’t be real.

She set the pen next to the unsigned application.

He looked up. “What?”

“Do you mean it?”

“What? Marriage? Yes.”

It did not compute. “For how long?”

“Forever.”

So much intent male focused on her. The gorgeous body. The sharp mind. His abruptness, which was both rough and endearing. Offering to become hers forever. In matrimony?

She swallowed. “Can I think about it?”

“No. Answer now.”

She didn’t know how to process this. She didn’t know where to begin or what questions to ask.

He read the resistance in her manner. Something vulnerable flashed in his face. His jaw tightened.

“Fine.” He shoved the contract into a manila folder and slammed it on the desk in front of her. His pens rattled. “I want it back on my desk, signed, by five p.m. tonight. Understood?”

She understood the words. And his tone almost sounded like he was hurt by her hesitation. As if he really did like her and was trying to propose, but she wasn’t responding, and he didn’t know how to make it right.

But that was crazy.

Wasn’t it?

“Good.” He nodded to confirm she had comprehended his deadline, then sat in his seat and reached for the phone.

She stood and started for the door on autopilot. Her head reeled.

“Hey!” He held the phone in one hand and smacked his other palm on the folder containing the contract, just like any old assignment file. “You forgot the application.”

Ah. “Well, I don’t know…”

“Take it.”

She obeyed, still not really sure what she was doing.

“Now you can get out.” He dialed his secure private number. “Amber? Jeanine, tell Amber I found the solution. It was much closer than we realized.”

Cheryl stumbled out of his office. The door slammed shut behind her.

She returned to her desk, tingling with pixie-dust excitement. She’d been chosen? By Mal? For marriage?

It meant he liked her. A lot. And he didn’t mind imagining her naked with him in bed, making all her fantasies come true. That was what it meant.

But reality filtered in.

Now you can get out. Those last words weren’t exactly the sweetness of a male overwhelmingly in love. Were they?

She’d never had a real relationship before, so she didn’t know. But she didn’t think so.

Mal treated her like normal. Like getting married was the same as any other assignment. Like, “Have that new logo on my desk by five p.m.!” was the same as “Have that signed marriage application on my desk by five p.m.!” Like designing a new logo was the same as getting engaged.

That wasn’t right. Right? He was an alien, but still…

This was her he was talking about marrying.

Impossible.

In fact, as the day passed and Cheryl finished her revised logo and submitted it to Jasper, her mistake became clearer and clearer. She had it wrong. This marriage application was a joke. Mal was trying to communicate something else.

Right?

The end of her shift arrived. She stuffed her unfinished portfolio work into her messenger bag, snapped it closed, and stood.

He hadn’t come out to cajole her or even speak to her. If a man was in love and the woman had doubts, wouldn’t the man try to woo her?

Mal didn’t really like her. What was to like? Cheryl was big, fat, shy, and not particularly talented. Below average, really. He’d probably come to his senses and was praying she shredded the application but was too busy to come out and tell her to never mind.

Yeah.

That made way more sense than proposing out of nowhere and expecting her to become his wife.

She backed away from the application folder on her desk and left.

Mal was finishing another call to Shanghai when Amber barged into his office, her dark red hair crackling with suppressed flames.

Uh-oh.

He held the phone up as a warning to forestall her. It didn’t work.

She slammed her palms on his desk, leaving heated prints. “I told you we’re taking over your responsibilities.”

He dropped the phone and leaped to his feet. “Jeanine was supposed to tell you—”

“Tell me yourself!”

“I found the solution. It’s closer than we realized. I can do both.”

“You cannot manage the next product launch and find a wife.”

“I can. And I have.”

Her cheeks warmed with inner flames. “Do you want to lose this company and marry Empress Horribus?”

“I already found a wife!” He darted behind the office chair. It wasn’t much cover, but it would buy him a few seconds. “I will marry Cheryl.”

The deadly glow went out of her cheeks, and her skin returned to normal. “Oh. You mean Cheryl the intern?”

“That one.”

Amber shifted her weight onto her heels. She wore dark red Mary Jane shoes, green tights, and a black dress with a matching green belt. An outfit from their last product launch. “And she agreed?”

He straightened and reached for the phone to start his next round of calls. “The signed marriage application will be on my desk by five tonight.”

Amber looked at his desk.

“So it’s fine for me to keep managing the next launch.” He dialed.

She ripped the phone cord out of the wall.

He growled. “Amber.”

“It’s after seven,” Amber said.

“And?”

Her eyes glowed black and gold. Like liquid, molten fury. “Where’s the signed marriage application?”

“It’s here.”

“Where?”

He stared at the desk. Yes, where was it?

Cheryl always turned in her work early. Quick, quiet, efficient. That was Cheryl. So when he gave her a deadline, she must have met it. Especially one so easy as filling in her name, date of birth, and signature. He assumed she’d slipped that folder in with the others while he’d been working, too busy to notice.

“Mal,” Amber growled low with warning.

“I’ll find it.” He stormed out of the office. “Cheryl? Where the heck—”

She wasn’t at her desk.

“Alex!” Mal yelled. His younger sibling emerged from his office, Darcy a few curious steps behind him. “Where is Cheryl? She didn’t turn in the application.”

Alex strode to Cheryl’s desk and opened drawers.

Jasper peeked out from his office. “Cheryl left hours ago. At her usual time.”

Mal turned on him with fury. “How do you know?”

“I am friendly with all our human employees.” Jasper endured his anger stoically. Not much ruffled the operations manager. “She seemed upset. I wished her good luck with her class.”

Upset? And Jasper noticed?

What else had Jasper noticed about his Cheryl?

A new thought occurred to Mal. One that made his blood alternate between heat and cold and his lips curl back from his sharpening teeth. “Cheryl isn’t the female you’re pursuing.”

It wasn’t a question nor a statement. It was a challenge.

Jasper’s reply, which came instantly, still took too long. Mal fought his muscles, twitching, and bunching as though he were about to tear into the mating frenzy.

“No,” Jasper said, and the murderous red edge to Mal’s vision receded. “Cheryl is a nice female, but she is not the one I wish to protect.”

“Good,” he snarled. Cheryl was the one that Mal suddenly understood he needed to protect. “So where is she?”

“Her class,” Jasper said. “They are critiquing the draft of her final portfolio. It is an important graduation requirement for her university.”

“Which is where?”

“Her university.” Jasper frowned. “Mal, you aren’t going to disturb her, are you? This event could determine her—”

“The marriage application is here.” Alex interrupted smoothly, holding up the folder. “She didn’t sign it.”

Heat emanated from his sister, a fully functioning female dragon with fully functioning fire-breathing capabilities.

The males all stepped back.

Amber flexed her claws, her eyes descending to furious crescents and her hair crackling with sparks. “You worked all day and did not secure your wife?”

“I’m securing her now.” Mal snatched the folder with the application inside and bolted for the glass shaft in his office, barreling for the roof exit.

Humans preferred dragons to wear clothes in public, so Mal held on to his human form. Barely. The ominous ripping sounds beneath him suggested his sister had shredded hers to chase after him as a deadly dragon.

He poured on the speed, clenching to keep his scales inside his skin as he burst into the twilit sky.

His sister screeched his name as she flew after him. “Malachite!”

Cheryl caught her breath in the historic brick atrium of her university’s gallery complex.

She wiped her sweat, heaved a great sigh, and crossed the marble hall. Today she’d forgotten class was being held in a gallery. It simulated the real environment well. She was confused, late, and about to fall apart with nerves.

She burst into the student gallery. As usual, no one noticed. Her classmates bustled around the space, their portfolios already set up on tables and ready for review.

She found her assigned table, propped her tablet on its white wire stand, connected it via HDMI cable to the monitor on the whitewashed wall behind her, and set it to cycle through her best art.

She’d gone from work to home and then jumped on the MAX train for her university, arriving in the nick of time for class.

Except she’d gone to their regular classroom and sat alone for a few minutes before she figured out her mistake.

One reason for going home was to see her mom. She wanted to talk about what had happened at work—she had received a proposal, sort of—and she wanted to ask which of her for-fun drawings might be commercial enough to be acceptable for her portfolio.

But her mom had been in bed already. She worked a swing shift at the hospital, and they never saw each other anymore.

“You’re the artist,” she’d responded tiredly the last time Cheryl had said she needed help deciding. Actually, Cheryl had been asking for her mother’s approval. Instead, her mother had closed her exhausted red eyes and shaken her head, dismissing her. “You decide.”

Probably her mother would have said that again.

Maybe she would have said the same about Mal’s proposal. “You’re the affected person. You decide if he’s serious.” She could hear her mother saying that in a tired, too-busy, distracted voice as she carried her reheated freezer burrito to the ripped living room couch and flicked on the TV.

They used to have fun. Cheryl used to do everything with her mom, but now her mom was working extra shifts to help Cheryl pay off her student loans, and she didn’t have time to share anything more than a quick greeting. Or, like tonight, a scrawled note that she was sleeping so don’t make too much noise.

It was all for Cheryl, which meant she couldn’t complain. She couldn’t mope about the dark, empty house. She couldn’t plead that she’d rather have ten thousand dollars more debt if it meant going back to the closeness they used to have.

Oh well.

Maybe, if she went last, her professor wouldn’t notice she was three commercial pieces short. Maybe he’d let the dragon logo she’d “accidentally” put in her portfolio count. Maybe she could slip, bump her head, fake a coma, and get out of the excruciatingly public portfolio review.

No such luck.

Professor Jon headed straight to her display. He wore a tweed jacket, khaki shorts, and sandals with fuzzy socks. Quintessential Pacific Northwest attire. The rest of the senior-level Digital Products for the Workplace class crowded around.

“Hello, Cheryl.” Professor Jon smiled tightly. His expression said this review would be as painful for him as it was for her. “As always, we are designing art to represent Fortune 500 companies. Show us your most commercial work and explain how it will make you a millionaire.”

She cleared her throat.

Twelve pairs of eyes stared at her.

A wave of heat wafted up her body as if someone had turned on a gas fire under her feet. Blood pounded in her ears. But even though the adrenaline, and the bitter taste in her mouth, were too familiar, that didn’t make suffering from catastrophic shyness any easier.

If only some kind god would swallow her up, make her pass out, or pull the fire alarm, or crash a truck into the side of the building, she would be so, so grateful…

“Go ahead,” her professor said.

“Uh, sure.” She paused the display on the first piece. Oops. It was the dragon torso she’d done today. “This is a sports image. Uh, it could be used for bodybuilding or nutritional supplements.”

Her professor’s lips drew to the side. “Right. Class?”

One of the loud overachievers spoke first. “I wouldn’t. Look at the rounded lines. He’s supposed to be ferocious, but he feels kind of… I don’t know, friendly. Like you want to give him a big hug.”

The others nodded.

“A huggable pro sports athlete.” Her professor’s disapproval made Cheryl’s cheeks hotter. “Class, when you work in advertising, you are the first client. Construct your ads to appeal to both your future employers and to their target audience. Remember, the final gallery show will be visited by actual employers, some of whom may or may not hire you.”

The harsh sarcasm made Cheryl want to snap. The emphasis in his phrase seemed to be directed solely at her.

But she swallowed it down.

God. She was tired, and it had been a long, strange day already.

The only thing Professor Jon harped on more than making commercial art was having a thick skin, because he’d worked for real companies and they didn’t have time for personal meltdowns.

Anyway, her classmates and her professor weren’t wrong. Mal was ferocious and huggable at the same time. But she’d tried to focus only on his powerful aspects for this image. If they didn’t like it, her most commercial picture, they weren’t going to like the rest.

He nodded at Cheryl. “Next image.”

She swallowed back her sadness and cycled to her logo. She had cleaned it up so the placard-holding dragon was cleaner and leaner, and the phrase on the placard was the Onyx Corporation instead of “Please Hire Me.”

Her professor’s brow curdled. “I thought we discussed the limited applications of little animals, Cheryl. Refresh my memory. Do your after-college plans include applying for a greeting card company?”

“No.” She swallowed. “It’s the, uh, logo for the Onyx Corporation.”

Her classmates snickered.

“As designed by Precious Moments?” the professor asked.

Ah. Right.

Well, Precious Moments did make millions, but it was totally the wrong image for the fierce, rich, exotic dragon aliens. Which was what she’d tried to tell Mal earlier.

“You do realize they’re powerful aliens?” He lectured her as if she didn’t work with them every day. “This could be seen as disrespectful.”

Her heart sank. “I know.”

“Today’s graphic art world is cutthroat. Survival requires more than competence; it requires brilliance. Cheryl, show us your brilliance.”

But she…she had. As much as she could. That was the problem. Ever since signing up for this class and discovering that someday she’d have to make money, she’d realized she was lacking in brilliance.

The tears closed her throat. Heat burned her nose and prickles stung her eyes in warning. She clenched the hem of her hoodie. “That’s it.”

Her professor noted something on his tablet. “Well, how about the rest of your weekly practice pieces? Perhaps there’s a third-best you’ve overlooked.”

She shook her head.

He sighed. “Mark your self-assessment.”

She reached for the assignment paper to record how she had failed to execute the assignment.

“I’m only trying to help you,” he said. “I want no starving artists after taking my class. Select some of your earlier assignments, and we’ll go over them after class. We’ll decide on a third piece to mark up for the final show.”

Her professor started to leave, then backed up and jerked his thumb at the images cycling on the wall monitor.

“Take out that logo before a dragon alien flies by and gets offended. There’s no telling what they might do.”

Something banged on the upper-story balcony windows high above them. Her classmates shrieked.

A powerful man in a gray silk suit clambered through the upper-story window and zoomed down. With a muscular thump, he landed on his leather loafers between her and the rest of her classmates.

“Mal!” she gasped.

What was he doing here?

His incendiary green eyes gleamed. Powerful hands closed around her arms and drew her against his hard body. “Come with me.”

“What?”

The ground fell away. She gasped again and clung to him. It was like holding on to a human-shaped rocket ship. Only it was Mal, and this wasn’t an illicit brush. She grabbed on to delicious muscle and squeezed.

Her classmates pointed in shock, and her professor shouted after them.

They zoomed for the ceiling of the art building, exited out the large upper-story window, and sped across the evening sky.

Something terrible must have happened. Like the office building had burned down, or a war was starting, or…or a kind god made Mal telepathic and her cries for help had compelled him to rescue her from the horrible critique.

Since it wasn’t the last one, it had to be bad.

She squinted through wind-generated tears as the Portland metropolis blurred under her feet. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere safe.”

They rocketed east, away from the pale sunset. Sharp air tore at her clothes and lashed her hair. She ducked her head against the pounding onslaught.

Mount Hood loomed, a pointed peak dominating Portland’s skyline, and grew in size as they approached its white cap. Early June snows blanketed the upper reaches. Suspended from the top of an outcropping rested an impossible fortress that, like him, defied gravity.

Awe flooded her, followed by a thrum of heat. She was in danger, he was taking her to safety, and he’d brought her to the one private sanctuary she’d never expected.

His home.

Mal alighted on the outer balcony and released her with an order. “Inside.”

Cheryl staggered. Her tennis shoes skidded on the ice, and she plopped on the frozen stone. The chill seeped through her thin jeans. Blizzard puffs of snow scratched her ears and cheeks.

The whole trip from Portland to Mount Hood, which took an hour and a half without traffic, ended in a little under five minutes. She hadn’t been able to focus on hugging him as much as she wanted because the flying part was distracting. And this was probably her only chance.

She rubbed her palms on her jeans. At least she’d gotten to hug him.

And she couldn’t stop shaking. Partly it was the snowcapped, glacier-harsh winds smashing hard, powdery snow on her hoodie, partly it was from flying across a metropolis as if she’d been launched from a cannon, and partly it was because she was here, at Mal’s house, with Mal.

When she was in danger, he came for her.

Her heart thudded.

Mal stood in front of glass sliding doors. A blue light scanned his eye. Lights flickered on throughout the house and the balcony doors slid open. A gust of comforting heat covered her, then was ripped away by the harsh winds.

Mal turned, saw her on the ground, and frowned. He lifted her to her feet one-handed. “In.”

More touches. Yum.

She forced her worn tennis shoes across the frozen marble and into the fortress. Heat enveloped her and chased away the chill. The balcony doors closed behind them.

She drank it all in. This would probably be her first and last time in his house. She had to savor every moment.

The inside of the fortress was set up like a giant lodge. Fires blazed in three fireplaces. To her left, a large stone room seemed strangely bare. To her right, a living room branched into a palatial office.

Mal stormed to the office. A mahogany desk presided over one wall. That was so like him. He stationed himself behind it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, finally getting enough warmth back to stop her teeth from chattering. “What’s the emergency?”

“You.” His green eyes glowered at her.

Was she in trouble? What had she done?

Wait. Had her disrespectful, cutesy logo offended one of the other dragons and now her life was in danger?

Mal removed a yellow folder from inside his suit jacket and threw it on the desk.

Was that…the marriage application? No way.

He opened the folder and stabbed the marriage application. “You didn’t sign.”

It was what she thought it was. Little tingles shimmered through her. Pixie dust.

Laugh or yell? Her hands trembled. He’d stolen her out of class and frightened her.

Well, stolen might be the wrong word. She’d wanted to escape by any means possible, and he’d answered her prayers, but there would be consequences for her grades, and…

He was looking at her in accusation.

She found her voice. “You can’t be serious.” Oh good, she sounded normal.

The green intensified. “Why?”

“You kidnapped me out of my final portfolio review. That affects my grade, Mal. My professor’s going to be pissed.”

“I’ll explain it to him.” Mal picked up his big black corded phone.

She tapped the hang-up button. “It’s too late now. And you scared me. I thought it was a real emergency.”

“It is a real emergency.”

“How is this an emergency?”

“You must sign and become my wife.”

Her chest throbbed.

No. Way. This wasn’t possible. He didn’t really want her. She was hallucinating. There was some mistake.

She shook her head.

His anger flared. “What stops you?”

A gorgeous, gruff, billionaire CEO wanted her. Cheryl. Soon-to-be-unemployed, assuming she passed this class and graduated, graphic design intern Cheryl. There’s just no way.

“Do I have a rival?” he demanded.

She snorted. “No.”

“Then…?”

He dropped the phone on the desk and threw back his shoulders, exposing his arrogant chest in its tasteful gray button-down.

“I run the company that will be number one outside Draconis! It is worth billions of our coins and even more in yours. I am a fit male capable of many fights. I have a full wingspan for mating flights, and I will give you as many dragonlets as you wish. Am I not a suitable male to be your husband?”

The phone made the cannot-connect ringing noise. If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try your call again.

That was it. There, that was definitely it.

She picked up the phone and put it back in its cradle.

He pushed the pen at her. “Sign and become my wife.”

She shook her head.

“No?” He growled, and the defensive, almost hurt tone she’d detected inside his office returned. “Why not?”

He was a fit, hot billionaire. She couldn’t be his only choice or his last choice, which were the only two choices that made any sense.

Her voice lodged in her throat. Her questions crystallized into a whisper. “Why me?”

“You are Cheryl.”

That meant nothing.

“Why do you want to marry me?”

“Because I must marry, and I will marry you.”

“You must have a million other options.”

He shook his head. “No. My option is you.”

Her heart thumped. The delicious heat turned up. Don’t get too excited. He didn’t mean it the way it sounded. He hadn’t been in love with her from the first week, hadn’t felt the hot-cold kiss of destiny the moment he defended her to the other manager.

“What is it about me that makes you think I’d be a good wife?”

“Why are you my choice?” He blinked and frowned. “Don’t you know your own qualities, hobbies, and interests?”

Well, it sounded like fishing for compliments when she asked like this. Mal wasn’t the flowery type and didn’t praise people just to charm them. And she couldn’t comprehend this. She was an ordinary college graduate about to become a starving, unemployable artist who produced greeting cards nobody wanted.

“It doesn’t seem real,” she said. “You’re interested in me? It sounds like a dream.”

“A good dream or a nightmare?”

“The good kind,” she assured him. “But surreal. Say whatever you want, but I can’t believe you have feelings for me without proof.”

“I can do proof.” He crossed the desk, drew her into his arms, and kissed her.

Thoroughly.

His iron-hard grip held her melting body upright as his lips pressed to her mouth.

Oh. God.

This was a dream.

The pressure of his lips was firmer than she’d fantasized. His mouth was hotter. His breath tickled her cheek. Rough, masculine stubble scraped her chin.

It wasn’t a dream. She’d never imagined stubble.

Mal was kissing her.

His scent teased her with promises of naked skin and sensual arousal. Her feminine center throbbed between her thighs, hungering for the male who sweetly dominated her.

He swept his tongue across her seam and nibbled her lips. “Cheryl. Open for me.”

She obeyed.

He growled and swept his tongue into her mouth. Thrusting into her deeply, every stroke discovered, enthralled, claimed. He teased her teeth. Sensations overwhelmed her.

He consumed her until the world faded to black. Everything was him. Gorgeous, powerful, domineering Mal.

Her knees went weak.

Mal lifted his head. His eyes crackled with green fire. Ownership was stamped across his implacable features. “You are mine.”

She licked her deliciously bruised lips. His flavor remained, indelibly imprinted on her. “That was my first kiss.”

“Mine also.”

She sucked in a breath. Really? Had she misjudged him? Despite his physique, attractiveness, and dominant masculine strength, had women avoided him? Or had he buried himself so completely in his work that he was also still a virgin?

“Did you never have a girlfriend, or, uh…anyone? Or any romantic relationship? In your life?”

He shook his head decisively. “Only you. Now.”

“Mal…” Then, reality slivered into her tenderness. “Um, me neither. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I do.” Confidence blazed in his powerful form. “Jasper showed me educational videos. I understand human sexuality very well.”

Educational videos?

In her moment of distraction, he growled and turned her to the marriage application. “Sign.”

She did so.

God, she was nuts. This was nuts! A rich, handsome dragon asked her to marry him, kissed her senseless, and then, while she was still weak in the knees, she signed and marked the application date.

He pulled the pen out of her hands and drew her against him.

His gaze intensified with mesmerizing heat. “We consummate our marriage. Now.”

After marriage came sex. Mal was ready.

Cheryl had signed the marriage application. That was the human form of marriage. Now she must perform the dragon rites of opening her body to him.

His chosen bride licked her sweet lips and stood on tiptoes to nuzzle him. “I do.”

Exaltation pounded through him.

He gathered her softness in his arms and flew her to his bedroom. She gasped as the floor fell away from her feet.

His wings ached to emerge and his scales jumped beneath his skin, but he suppressed both urges, holding on to his human form with iron control. He did not want to frighten her. And it was unnecessary—dragons mated in dragon form, but Cheryl could not. He would… What did humans call mating? Love? He would love her as a human.

There were already obvious differences. Dragons did not kiss. When he had heard of the strange human phenomenon, he hadn’t been able to imagine why anyone would want to mash their faces together, but now, he understood.

Cheryl tasted like an addiction. She made sweet noises that hardened his cock. He craved her more now than he had ever craved anything in his life.

He needed to taste her again.

Her small hands twined around the back of his neck. Accepting him. Needing him back.

He laid her in the center of his dragon-sized bed and ripped his clothes away, shredding them. He needed to press his nude form to hers.

She rose on her elbows and studied his nakedness with her wide brown eyes. This was a familiar look. Was she studying him even now like an artist?

He needed her to study him as a man.

“Touch me,” he commanded.

She sucked in a breath. “I’ve been looking for so long, I can’t believe I’m really here.”

“Believe.” Mal rolled on top of her, resting his weight on his knees and elbows, and flexed his biceps.

She sighed with pleasure.

He took her hand and pressed her cool palm to his hot belly.

Her eyes flew to his face. “Um…”

“You must touch me.”

“I want to—”

“Yes.”

“—but I don’t know what I’m doing. It won’t feel very good.”

“It will feel very good.” He pressed a kiss into her palm. “Now. Everywhere.”

She stroked his shoulder. Hesitant and soothing. Testing out his shape. Learning about the male she claimed.

“Yes,” his hissed into her ear, and sucked on her soft lobe.

She gripped his shoulders and moaned.

Moaning was what he needed. Her, out of control, driven by him to the edge of passion.

He rolled onto his back and flipped her on top. She squeaked. Her jeans-clad thighs straddled his abdomen. His shaft pressed against the seams.

Mal gripped her hips. The flat bones made the perfect rest for his large hands. He would grip here later when he thrust into her slick channel.

She teased her lower lip between her teeth. Her hands rested on her thighs. She stared at him with longing.

He needed more than stares.

“Touch!”

She nodded as though she needed him to direct her and brushed his pectorals with her fingertips. Feather-soft at first, then harder, like an artist sculpting clay. Her thumbs tested his flat, dark areolas and moved down the bulging ridges of his abdominal muscles. “You’re so beautiful. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

“No.”

“I wonder why not? Maybe you should be calmer. You can be a little intimidating.”

“Others do not matter. Only you matter.”

“I could almost believe you.” Her tongue teased the corner of her lips, and the color of her cheeks darkened. She rubbed her cleft against his shaft.

He throbbed with readiness.

She caressed his pectorals. Her touch owned him, imprinted her scent onto him.

Now all females would know he belonged to her.

Her hands drifted lower. She scooted back. Her wide eyes fixed on his hard cock. Her pink tongue wet her lips.

He pulsed with her silent encouragement.

She hesitated.

“Cheryl,” he growled.

Her hungry gaze flicked to his eyes, then trailed down his wide chest and taut abdomen to the hard V and back to his proud cock. With shaking hands, she carefully wrapped her talented fingers around his long shaft.

Pleasure throbbed in his cock.

He thrust against her palms. “Good.”

Surprise and then interest lit her features. Her beautiful lips parted. The syrupy scent of her arousal increased, clouding his mind with hunger. “You like this?’

“I like you. And this.”

She studied him as she stroked his shaft, an explorer in new territory. “You’re so hard.”

“Because of you.”

She flushed again, pleased. “Could you come like this?”

If she meant spill his seed, the answer was yes. “Immediately.”

Shock flashed in her eyes. “Just from me touching you?”

From her touch, and also from the blush warming her cheeks, and the sexual heat rising from her body, and her intoxicating taste still on his lips, and her sweet hips gyrating in too-tight jeans, and the scent of her arousal he too was going to possess.

Her self-doubt crept in. “Are you sure?”

Hot pleasure pooled in his scrotum and shot out of his cock, unloading in her hands and striping her clothes in his creamy white semen.

“Yes,” he said.

Her surprise turned into a wonder-filled smile. She looked down at his markings, the peak of passion she’d brought him to, and her wonder turned to a satisfied expression.

She should be satisfied. She’d done this to him, and it was only the beginning.

His cock hardened again in her dripping hands. “Now you.”

“Me,” she agreed and wiped her hands on her jeans, then lifted her face for his kiss.

He obliged her, kissing her until she was hot and moaning. “Take off your clothes.”

She unzipped her jeans, revealing her white panties. “They’re only cotton.”

“A perfect fabric for underclothing.” He placed kisses at the hem and up her gently rounded belly, pushing the hoodie and cotton shirt out of his way.

She laced her fingers in his dark hair, urging him on.

He shoved the hoodie up her chest to bunch beneath her chin, released the creamy globes from her bra, and took one dusky nipple into his mouth. She tasted like heaven. He sucked her unique flavor and swirled his tongue over the hardening pearl. Mine.

Her hands knotted in his hair. “Oh God.”

She accepted him.

He needed all of her to accept all of him. He pulled one sleeve.

She suddenly rolled upright and gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off your clothes.”

“Well, I know, but…” She pulled her shirt and hoodie down over her belly, hiding herself away again. “Then you’ll see me.”

“I already see you.”

“Naked. You’ll see me naked.”

He rocked back on his heels, his arousal still proud and ready. “Like me.”

She swallowed, focused on him. “But you’re so…it’s not a problem for you.”

Unease returned. “Sex is a problem for you?”

“Oh, no, I’m ready.” She laughed softly and sucked in an unsteady breath. “Ready-ready. I just…um, I’ve never gotten naked in front of, well, anyone, and certainly not the man—er, male of my dreams, so this is all new to me…”

“This is new to me as well.”

“It is?”

“You are my first and only mate.” He gestured at her hoodie. “Clothes off.”

“I…wow.” She wriggled out of her jeans. “Um, how about just the bottoms?”

“No. I must worship all of you.”

“Worship?” She took another unsteady breath. “I think I’d like a little worship.”

“Then open your body to mine.” He reached for her hoodie.

“Wait.” She scooted back an arm’s length. “I just, I…”

He waited.

She choked out the words. “I’m afraid if you see the real me, you’ll lose your hard-on.”

He rolled onto his knees and gripped his shaft. It quivered from how close he still was to passion. “That’s impossible. I already see the real you. That Cheryl is calm and peaceful and kind. And she cares so much for others that she forgets to care for herself. Let me care.”

Her gaze focused. The tremble in her hands stilled. She gripped the hem of her hoodie with new determination. “Okay. Turn out the light.”

The insult stung.

“Cheryl.”

He moved on his knees until he was right in front of her. “Our first mating cannot be in the dark.”

“I could get under the covers. You don’t have to see everything to have sex.”

“I do.”

“I mean…you really don’t.”

He lowered his head so she felt the entire weight of his need in his gaze. “I do.”

Her forehead smoothed to curiosity. “You’re insistent about this.”

“A dragon who copulates for convenience will slip into a dark place with any partner. A dragon who wishes to take a mating flight with his wife will bare himself completely in the bright light, and her too, showing they know exactly who they are with. You cannot hide from me. Not now.”

She focused on his face again. Cautious hope fought with deeply embedded mistrust. “If I take everything off, do you promise you’re still going to want me?”

“Yes.”

“Um, but, I’m not special.”

“You are very special.”

“I mean…” She tugged on the hem as though fighting with herself. “My body isn’t like one of your models. You own a fashion company. You see real beautiful people all the time.”

He couldn’t even picture the people she was talking about.

“And out of all those models, you chose me.” She teased the hem between her fingers. “I…I want to believe in you, but I think you’ll have to help me.”

“Help how?”

“Just, um, show me that you really mean it. That you’re enthusiastic and aren’t turned off by what you see.”

He released his shaft and rested one hand one either side of her knees. “I want you with every scale in my body.”

Her pupils dilated, and her voice grew faint. “I know you never lie.”

“I never lie.” He pounced on her.

She collapsed under him with a willing sigh trusting in him.

Could he want her more? Could he show it?

Her navy hoodie rubbed against his naked chest, and her jeans caressed his cock. It was good to feel her through the interesting fabrics.

She closed her eyes. “This is more intense than I dreamed.”

“I need to touch you. I need to mark you. I need to possess you.”

She moaned. “I’m not special.”

There was that word again. Special. It must have a different meaning than the one he was familiar with.

“No,” he agreed since the other response hadn’t eased her fears. “You are Cheryl.”

She blinked.

“And I need you.” He murmured his truth, down to the great green honest heart of him. “I need all of you.” He pushed his hands up her hoodie and cupped her swelling breasts.

“Mal,” she gasped and arched her back, pressing her breasts into his hands and opening her body to him.

Her hands circled his biceps to tug him closer, her legs twined his, and her mouth sought his.

“Off.” He dragged the hoodie over her head.

She lifted her hands and shimmied out of it. Her beige bra went flinging over his shoulder. He yanked her jeans down, admiring her white cotton panties for one hot moment before tossing them aside to reveal her shimmering pink femininity.

She was magnificent. The line of her softly rounded shoulders led down to full handfuls of breasts, a shapely waist flared to her strong hips and curved thighs, and dark curls fringed her delicate feminine vee. The scent of her arousal intensified, hooking him by the nose like a lure.

His cock throbbed, threatening to stripe her in his juices right now. She covered her jiggling breasts with both hands.

Hiding herself. Cheryl does not want me.

Fear speared him in the center of his chest. He couldn’t get back his breath. The agony—turning away, refusing him after he’d broken so many rules to present himself to her, denying his existence—twisted in his soul.

Not Cheryl too.

He reared back.

She blinked and focused on him with a frown. “Mal?”

“I am worshipping you. Reveal yourself to me!”

“What? Oh.” She sat up. “Oops. I got distracted.”

“And denied me.”

“I’m not denying you.” She stared at him like he was crazy. “Hello? We’re naked here. Having sex. I’m very into this. That’s the opposite of denying you.”

“You continue to cover yourself.”

“But I left the light on. It takes a lot of trust to be naked.”

“Exactly.” He pushed her down on the bed onto her back. “I need it.”

“Huh?”

“I need your nakedness. It belongs to me.”

“Belongs?”

“Because if you will not accept me, a low-caste dragon, as your husband, tell me now. We will not mate.” His implacable shaft pressed against her trembling cleft.

She moaned and rubbed against him. “Mal. You can’t say that while doing this.”

He held her still, pressing her bare chest to his bare chest. Her forehead to his forehead. Her arm around her belly resisted their union.

He had explained about dragon marriage. She understood. Hiding herself now meant she wanted to mate with his body, not with him.

He began to pull back.

“Wait.” She grabbed him with both arms. “Just wait. This is going too fast. We’re talking past each other and arguing in circles.”

“You do not want me.” His voice broke in his rough throat.

“See? That’s what I mean.” She pressed their foreheads together and nuzzled him. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you. I spent my whole life hiding in the shadows, hiding in these clothes, hiding in my skin, and now you come along and demand I get comfortable in the spotlight. But the thing of it is, I do trust you. The one I don’t trust is myself.”

Could that be true?

He eased back. “If you trust me, then reveal yourself.”

Her flushed cheeks darkened at his lingering gaze. She lowered her arm…and covered her mound.

“Reveal yourself,” he ordered, desire roughening his voice.

She bit her lip. “Are you sure you’ll still want me?”

Her question awoke his deepest protective, possessive instincts.

She must never doubt herself again.

“You are life,” he growled. “I want you as I want my next breath.”

The fear in her sweet eyes dissolved under his steadfast promise. She moved aside her trembling hands.

He kissed down the slender column of her neck, squeezing her gently rounded buttocks for the tactile contact he craved.

She pushed into his caresses with pleasure-filled moans.

He trailed his tongue down her trembling belly, swirled the tip in her belly button, the place that connected life in humans and in dragons, and continued to her soft cleft. Tasting her. Memorizing her. Luxuriating in her.

She was attractively shaped, a slit of pink in the delicate curls, and already damp.

Amazing.

Her hands twitched. She wanted so badly to cover herself.

He yielded to her silent command and delved his tongue into her, coated the wet lips with her honey in long, groan-inducing strokes.

“Mal,” she gasped. “This is… You like this?”

He stroked her hot nub. “I want to taste you.”

She whimpered, breathy and needy. He suckled her. She moved her hips to match his strokes. “Mal.” Her gasps heightened with desire. “Mal!”

Beautiful release fluttered across her features. Her hips shuddered. Then she lay still, legs wide, opening herself to him. “Oh. That was amazing.”

She was amazing.

He surged up her body, ramming his elbows into the blankets bunched around her flushed cheeks. She smiled, sweet and pleased to see him so close to her. “Hey.”

His cock head nudged her hot, wet entrance.

Her mouth opened in surprise. “Oh. Yes.” Her legs twined around him and pressed him deeper.

He obeyed her command and eased in, slipping his rigid manhood into her relaxed but still tight femininity. Her channel gripped him like a satin glove. She gripped his butt cheeks. He bobbed deeper, pressing into her femininity.

“Oh. Yesss. Ohhhhh.”

She gave away all at once, and with a sudden shock, they joined completely.

She tightened, holding him in place. Her thighs trembled. Awe parted her lips.

He reveled in their completion. “You are mine.” He kissed her.

She kissed him back.

Driven by the ancient urge, he moved.

Soft, gentle, delicious thrusts united their bodies. His cock massaged her, plunging in and out in the ancient life-giving rhythm of their ancestors. He tasted destiny and infinity. And Cheryl wrapped herself around him, urging him on, gasping and moaning. She was the reason he lived. Now and forever.

She cried out and arched. He drove her to orgasm a final, soul-shattering time. Release whipped through her.

As she clenched him from within, he unloaded his hot cum inside her.

They were one.

He collapsed.

She was his. And he would never be the same.

He would never be the same.

That thought shot Mal out of bed during the three a.m. alarm.

It was time to listen to the daily broadcast of the Outer Rim Company Rank List.

He shut off the alarm and disentangled himself from his sleeping wife. Cheryl slept beneath his rumpled blankets, scented with his passion. The sight exerted a magnetic force, drawing him in hard. He almost climbed right back into bed.

A narrow shaft of fear drove into his chest, pinning him like a pike.

This was dangerous. What he’d done had been stupid.

Find a wife? Easy. But giving himself to Cheryl, baring himself to her and accepting her naked innocence in return, had permanently altered him. She wasn’t only his wife now. She was his whole life. She was his future.

More than that. She held his heart.

And that was a danger he had never anticipated.

The shaft of fear twisted painfully.

No. He was wrong. Cheryl didn’t hold his heart. Dragons were not sentimental like humans. This powerful, fearful emotion was the aftereffect of his first experience with a woman. His first sex in human form. Or in any form.

His first decent sleep.

She was not his heart. Thinking so was a distraction. A weakness. He could not give in to the cravings to bury himself in her body and place his soul in her hands. That was madness.

He could not allow himself to get drawn in any deeper.

Right. He had wasted enough time on his desires. Yes. Sleeping in bed was a waste. They’d shared nothing but the lust necessary for marriage. For producing a dragonlet to make his mother happy and leave them alone. That was it. No other intimacy.

Forcing the yawn from his body, he grabbed a robe and headed out to the office to tune in to the early hour Draconis communication announcing the Outer Planet Rank Listing.

Wife accomplished. Time to move on to the next task.

Because if he didn’t bury himself in his work, if he didn’t distract himself, he might be forced to acknowledge what his siblings were trying to get him to admit back in the office conference room.

They didn’t need him.

He was unnecessary.

They could run the company very well without him, and he might as well disappear from their sight.

And Cheryl didn’t need him eith—

No!

He stopped and rested a hand on his desk. The pain stabbed more harshly than the shrapnel he’d taken after an improvised bomb in the Colony Wars.

Mal sucked in his breath through his teeth.

He couldn’t disappear! His siblings thought they could handle the company without him, but they were wrong. They needed him. Only he could push them to number one.

And Cheryl…

Well, she was perfect without him.

She’d never needed him and would never need him. She produced beautiful art that gave great joy. He had interrupted her class when a great number of her peers were crowded around appreciating her creativity. She had essential talents no dragon could ever duplicate.

Why had she married him?

He sucked in another breath. The shudder of the truth went through him. She had married him, but unwillingly. She had only bared herself to him because he’d insisted.

Now she was his wife.

But he must not crave her. He must not give in to the desire to go back to the bed, make human love to her again, possess her, bind her, have her with him always. Because if he let her in any closer and if she ever, ever changed her mind about their marriage and denied him as her mate…

He shuddered.

Her betrayal would destroy him.

Cheryl woke in a giant bed piled with silky blankets.

She was naked.

And alone.

In Mal’s bed.

She buried her nose in the sheets and took a long, deep breath. It smelled like him. The way the sheets wrapped around her, cupping and caressing her skin in their protective embrace, felt like the way she’d been loved by him. Fiercely, aggressively, completely.

Today was the best day. After last night, of course.

He had blown away all her doubts. In this bed, she had existed only to discover the limits of her passion and the depths of her capacity to love. Not just love him, but also to love herself.

For the first time in her life, she was good enough just as she was. Not too fat, too awkward, too ugly. No, Mal made her feel beautiful, desired, and powerful. Like she was someone amazing.

For that, and for so much more, she loved him.

Mal.

And they were engaged!

She dropped her head into the impression where his body had been. It felt cool and empty. He’d been up for some time. She was sleeping the day away.

Cheryl rose and stretched…and collapsed. Ouch, ouch, ouch! Everything hurt. Jeez!

She dragged herself out of bed. Her thighs trembled as if she’d been squeezing weights, and she stumbled across the warm stone floor to the master bathroom. She was sore in weird places.

In the wall-spanning mirror of the luminous bathroom, she caught sight of herself.

Oh God.

Her eyes sank into black pits of exhaustion. Her hair hung like limp snakes from her skull. And that pasty white fat wasn’t at all beautiful.

Also, her mouth felt as dry as if she’d been licking the sheets all night. She found a cup—well, a crystal goblet—filled it with tap water, and gargled. Then she set about trying to clean herself up.

Despite all her pains, the awareness kept flashing into her. She was changed. She was engaged. And she was no longer a virgin.

Although she’d never had plans about her virginity, it had worried her to graduate from college with it still intact. If she didn’t meet someone in her outgoing student days, what were the odds she’d meet someone once she was chained to a desk in the isolated tower of some advertising company? Especially if she was still unable to make eye contact or hold a normal conversation. So, thank goodness, at least that was done.

She’d expected it to hurt, but any pain disappeared in the amazing revelation of two intense, soul-shattering, life-revolutionizing orgasms.

So that’s what they were supposed to feel like.

The perfect-temperature rain shower found another stinging bit down there. Cheryl sucked in a breath. Funny that it hurt this morning but hadn’t last night.

She knew when it had happened. It was startling and fulfilling, like first experiencing the world through cellophane and then having a clear, intense view of real life.

She’d taken a few deep breaths, getting used to the feeling of his cock inside her. All the way in.

He would always be a part of her now. Her first lover. For always.

Thank you.

She hugged herself. Thanks to herself for being willing to try with him, and thanks to Mal for creating such an intense reality, it blew all her fantasies away.

He’d looked down at her last night with starstruck wonderment. His green eyes flashed, intent on her. She was grateful now he’d insisted on them both being naked. He saw her. He really saw her. And that possessive desire in his eyes meant he was certain of what he wanted.

You are Cheryl. He kept saying that. And then he started moving, and the delicious tingling feeling came back and swept her away.

Mal had been… He’d been amazing. So himself. Fierce, fearless, demanding. Even though it was his first time too, he moved as though he knew everything about her. He’d made her feel sparkles inside.

Touching herself alone at night was like nice, tinny stereo, and he had introduced her to surround sound with a full, New York level orchestra. Sure, she could go back to stereo, but now she wanted to hear the maestro live.

Speaking of Mal, where was he?

Cheryl finished her relaxing shower, dried herself in the fluffy towels, and went looking for him.

He wasn’t working at his palatial mahogany desk. He wasn’t pacing in front of the roaring fireplaces while shouting into a phone. He wasn’t at the rustic dining benches, in the empty stone hall, on the frozen exterior landing pad where they’d arrived, or in any of the barren rooms.

Well…

She picked up the phone. Did this have long distance? She called the corporation. Mal was unavailable, so Jeanine transferred her to Jasper.

“Hello, Cheryl.”

“Hi.” The room heated, even though her hair was still dripping on her bare shoulders with the towel wrapped around her. Cue her social awkwardness.

It wasn’t fair. She was distanced by the phone, and she ought to be used to talking to Jasper since he was her official boss and they talked every day.

“Um, is Mal there?”

“Yes.”

Mal had abandoned her.

She was glad he wasn’t lying in a gully somewhere, a victim of a freak snow accident. But he’d left her.

Maybe he wanted her to sleep. Maybe he was worried she hadn’t gotten enough rest. Maybe this was kindly meant, not that he’d forgotten her. Or didn’t care.

Funny how yesterday, any touch was a precious memory, and today she could call up the corporation and get upset that Mal hadn’t answered on the first ring himself.

She wanted too much. She wasn’t grateful for the memories she’d already received.

“Are you coming to work today?” Jasper asked.

“I don’t know.” She rubbed her wet hair in a nervous gesture. “Do you know if Mal’s coming back home? Like, for lunch, or something?”

It was getting close to lunchtime. An early lunchtime. He could make it easily. Flying took him only five minutes.

And she was greedy. She wanted more. A lot more.

“I don’t know,” Jasper said.

No, Mal wouldn’t share his plans. “Is he busy?”

“Yes, very.”

Of course he was. She hated to interrupt, but she also couldn’t stand not knowing when he would appear. “Can you ask him to call me when he gets a few minutes free?”

“Sure.”

Well, okay. That was that.

She made her goodbyes and stared out the gorgeous windows at the isolated snowscape. Today, the sky was clear and blue. Wind gusts kicked little flurries from the many feet of snow crushed against the windows. Ice chips melted and fell on the sharp incline, rolled into giant snowballs, and flew off the edge of the cliff to disappear into an icy blue abyss.

She went back into the bedroom and put on her sweaty old clothes, everything except her underwear, which she stuffed in her pocket. It felt weird to go commando in jeans, but what choice did she have? She didn’t carry around spare underwear.

Lunchtime passed.

What was Mal’s plan? He hadn’t forgotten her, right? There were no roads to a dragon fortress hanging off a cliff. And unlike him, she couldn’t fly.

Cheryl kept herself busy by booting up his giant office computer and checking her email. Several classmates had messaged to find out if she was okay, and her professor, while not understanding the situation, wanted to reschedule her draft portfolio review to pick out the third showpiece this afternoon.

She checked her watch. Approaching two.

She typed up replies, touched by her classmates’ concern and hoping her professor didn’t mind rescheduling for later.

Too bad she’d left her tablet at the draft portfolio review. Cheryl scrounged through Mal’s drawers and folders for blank paper and pens. It had been a while since she’d drawn in analog. There was no easy way to erase the permanent marker and no layers to keep separate.

She could use this time to make a final showpiece. Something hard-hitting and commercial—no, she could make all three showpieces. Yeah. She could redeem her grade and make her professor happy with her and wow her classmates. The delay was good, really. She tried to convince herself as the hours dragged past and her nerves grew twitchy.

And also, she was kind of starving.

Mal didn’t have food in his house. The kitchen was as barren as the rest of the stone rooms. She would kill for a protein bar.

Cheryl abandoned her dramatic snow scene—it was already going in the Hallmark direction, with shiny sparkles and happy icicles—and took a quick break to sketch an overweight, shy woman strangling a cutesy green dragon wearing Mal’s sexy gray jacket. Not that it meant anything…

She uploaded it to her Tumblr and Deviant Art accounts.

Oh, there was a message from her biggest fan, DragonLord C.

“Thank you for the picture of the dragon wearing chaps. Can I please have your picture of the dragon wearing silk pajamas? Your drawings are so wonderful. Thank you for your consideration.”

Her heart thumped and her face heated.

Yesterday, after the logo disaster, she’d relaxed with quick sketches of a miniature dragon lounging in the same silk pajama shirt Mal had been wearing. Because of nice comments from fans like DragonLord C on her cutesy, noncommercial drawings, like this one, she’d uploaded it on the MAX ride.

“Sure,” she typed. “Do you want me to sign it to DragonLord C?”

The reply came only moments later. “I would love a signed print.”

Well, that got trickier. She’d meant to sign the electronic copy for him, not a physical version. Cheryl chewed on the problem.

It was easy to make signed prints. She could go to any office store and get one printed as a postcard size or smaller, sign it, and mail it to her fan. Of course, per item it was expensive. It would make more sense to print a batch. And it wasn’t her first request. DragonLord C was only her newest fan; she’d had a couple of requests for prints over the years.

Or she could get serious.

She could set up an account with a professional art manufacturer and then try to sell her work. There were fees and operating costs, so she’d have to work hard to recoup her investment. She could even set up an Etsy store.

But that was for her serious art. Regardless of what Mal or the other dragons thought, these cutesy doodles were just for fun. They would never make any money from actual art critics. There was no point in getting serious. She’d better give them away.

And why figure out the trip to an office store just to print out one copy? She should try to get to the campus lab. She was fooling herself that anyone besides DragonLord C would want a print of this particular one.

“Sorry,” she typed. “I don’t have a printer. Maybe later.”

“I will print it. Will you sign if I bring it to you?”

Huh. That was farther than most fans went. “Do you live in Portland?”

“No, but I’ll make the trip if you’ll sign it.”

This fan must live close, like Kelso or Beaverton. Still, the trip would cost half a tank of gas.

She heated. How flattering.

“Sure,” she typed. “But only if you bring DragonLords A and B.”

The chat went dead for several minutes. She studied the setup fees at her favorite art printers and dreamed.

DragonLord C resumed chat. “I will do this. Who are they?”

Hah. Okay. “It was a joke. Sorry. Because you’re C I thought there might be an A and B. When do you want to meet?”

“I can arrive in one hour.”

Back to the problem. “Today is bad,” she typed. What time was it? After four? Where was Mal? Seriously, what was he thinking?

“Tell me when to come this week,” DragonLord C replied. “Also LOL to your joke.”

A pity laugh.

“Very funny,” DragonLord C typed.

She wouldn’t go that far. But whatever. It was nice of DragonLord C to pretend she was funny. Even she didn’t think it was a good joke. Her fan must be desperate for a signed print. Which was heartwarming in its own way.

Cheryl rose again and stretched. Despite the relaxing shower, her muscles were beginning to cramp from hunching over Mal’s keyboard. She was still sore and achy. Her stomach growled.

Seriously. Where is he?

She called Jasper a second time. “Did you give Mal my message?”

“Yes, immediately after you asked me to.”

Her belly lurched. Jasper had given Mal her message hours ago. A dangerous awareness, like the drop of an icy rock about to pick up snow and turn into an avalanche, made the inside of the office as chilly as the sparkling snow.

Her voice sounded far away in her own ears. “He didn’t call me.”

“Oh.”

Silence filled the line.

She rubbed her head. So when you said I was yours, Mal, what did that mean, exactly? “Can I talk to him?”

“He’s in a meeting with Darcy and Alex,” Jasper said. “Someone leaked our plan to the Carnelians, and they’ve already bought up all the silkworms in China, so he’s researching a new product.”

Oh.

Right. Of course. Mal was devoted to the company a hundred percent. Probably the shock of the betrayal caused him to dive so deeply into the new problem, he hadn’t come up for air. And she had said for him to call when he had a few free minutes.

But another thought kept bashing against her mind, no matter how hard she tried to push it away.

Was she so unimportant to him that the day after he proposed to her and they had sex for the first time, he forgot all about her?

God. Her stomach clenched. She’d always thought when she’d found someone to love her and started her first relationship and began thinking about marriage and family, she would never prioritize work so much that she didn’t have time for the loved ones she was working for.

Mal was different.

But he liked her. He cared for her and wanted her to be happy. Especially last night.

Then why didn’t he call?

Her stomach clenched again. Had she been so wrong?

No. This was all speculation. She wouldn’t jump to any conclusions until she spoke to Mal herself.

“Okay, um, thanks, Jasper.” Her voice was shaking. Dammit. She cleared her throat. “I’ll just talk to him later when he—”

“Here he is,” Jasper said, and a rage-filled bellow made her jump even from the distance of the phone line.

“This is a meeting!” Mal roared.

“I know,” Jasper said distantly. The phone changed hands, and Jasper’s voice receded. “It’s your wife.”

There was a pause.

Her heart squeezed.

Mal’s throaty growl filled the line. “What do you want?”

Direct. To the point. The same gruff tone he would take with anyone…but maybe gentler than the roar he’d thrown at Jasper?

“Um.” Her heart squeezed again, hard, and her hands started shaking. She rubbed her head. Nerves flirted with hope. “I wanted to know what you’re doing.”

“I’m working.”

Right. Right.

“Right,” she said. “Um, thanks.”

The tremors in her hands reached her voice. She shook harder than any time she’d had to meet a stranger. Because now that she’d been remade as a person, in Mal’s bed, and he’d been remade by being with her, it was like they were strangers.

She needed him to tell her everything was okay. He hadn’t left the bed because waking up beside her fat, ugly body had horrified him in the light of day. She needed him to tell her she was still loved. Just as much as he’d made her feel loved last night.

“So, um, today. You left me here.”

His silence confirmed the truth of her statement. Yes, he had left her at his house. She could almost hear him say, So what?

Although he hadn’t said that, she flinched anyway. “Ah, well, I wondered what your plan is.”

“My plan for what?”

“For me,” she said.

When he continued to remain silent, she began to fight the terrifying feeling he had no plan for her. His plan was to run away to work and never see her again.

“What’s your plan for me?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

No.

He didn’t have time for her. The dismissal in his rough tone stung more than a thousand cuts in her most sensitive places.

“We’ll talk when I get home.”

The phone went silent. He had hung up on her.

She gripped the phone with shaking fingers. “When will you be home?” A scream of rage filled her with dragonesque fury, and she threw the phone against the wall so it shattered into a million pieces…

Okay, she didn’t do that. That was the Cheryl of her imagination.

In real life, she placed the handset silently on its cradle and daydreamed about the meltdowns she would never have while demanding the people she loved spend time with her.

In his office meeting, Mal shoved the phone at Jasper. “No more interruptions.” To the other members of the meeting, he snapped, “Carry on.”

But the others didn’t carry on. Instead, they regarded him with some interest.

Darcy’s grin widened. “I didn’t realize you were married.”

“I am.”

“Congratulations.” The human’s brows rose. “You don’t look thrilled. Love troubles already?”

“No.”

The sound of Cheryl’s sweet voice slid shivering desire between his shoulder blades, where his wings longed to stretch. And his cock, which he normally paid no attention to, forced his mind to it by hardening into rigid readiness.

He’d had to get her off the phone immediately, force her sweet voice away from his hungry ears, or he’d lose his concentration entirely, fly straight home, and return to the bed that had so recently introduced him to a whole new world of pleasure. Satisfaction. Wholeness.

Which could so easily be ripped away.

Fear panged in his chest.

Mal could not stop this meeting. He couldn’t fly home to be with Cheryl, and he could not think of their future together. Not now. He didn’t have time. They had a product to launch. His siblings needed him.

Yes. His siblings needed him. This company needed him. He wasn’t thinking coherently if he wanted to go home now. He had to become number one. Cheryl would never throw away a number one company.

She would wait. Just like he would wait. It was fine. He was busy. And fine.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Darcy asked.

A playful human, Darcy was unwilling to give up a new object of fun. If it weren’t for his value, Mal would have banned him long before the male had a chance to grow on him and become like one of their siblings.

“Cheryl,” Jasper answered for Mal, preparing to return to his office.

Darcy stopped smiling. “You married Cheryl? When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Seriously?”

Mal’s anger built. “What is your objection?”

“I don’t have one.” Darcy leaned back in his seat and frowned at his fingers. “It’s sudden. I didn’t realize you were a couple.”

“They weren’t until yesterday,” Jasper said. “Mal must secure a human wife within two weeks or return to Draconis and marry one of our own kind.”

“Rough.” Darcy looked down the table at the seat Amber had been occupying until a few minutes earlier, when one of his human jokes had gone too far.

She took extra care with her fiery temper when Darcy was the villain stoking it. Her ruffled golden-orange-brown scales had caused her to flounce from the room rather than erupt into a volcano of rage.

“Just you, Mal? The rest of your siblings are off the hook?”

“For now.”

Darcy’s frown returned. “So you asked Cheryl to marry you, and she said yes?”

“Yes.”

“How accommodating.” He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “Well, back to the meeting—”

“No.” Anger percolated under Mal’s skin. It was a good thing he’d been born a male, or else Darcy’s strange questions would cause him to flame everything in sight. “What do you mean?”

His mouth made a thoughtful arc, and he leaned back in the leather office seat again. “I mean, it’s awfully nice of her to marry you on the spot.”

“That’s not normal for your species?”

He shook his head. “Some marry to get a green card. Resident visa,” he clarified. “Those marriages never last.”

Mal didn’t like this version. Had Cheryl only married him to be nice? Yes, it was nice. However, he didn’t want her to remain with him out of charity. His possessive urge flared like a sharp pin between his shoulder blades, and he suddenly needed to return home again. He wanted her as his passionate, loving, lust-filled wife. Not as a means to a green-colored card.

“I thought humans looked each other in the eye and knew they were ‘the one,’” Mal said.

Darcy looked up. “Is she the one?”

The conference room fell silent. His question stretched.

It made Mal want to thrash free of his clothes. His skin twitched. He wanted to launch into the air, to pump his wings, to fly furiously for the sun, to shatter ice and bellow in fury.

But he suppressed those urges. Like his urge to sleep, like his urge to stretch his wings in his dragon form, like his urge to fly to Cheryl and wrap around her so tight, she could never leave him behind, they were desires he didn’t have time for. The ache in his jaw from suppressing them, that he could endure.

“Dragons do not have ‘the one,’” Mal snarled. “We join according to our female’s wishes. They select the most powerful male to seed them with offspring.”

Darcy raised his palms in surrender. “Don’t tell Cheryl that. You’ll make her cry.”

His rage escalated another notch. “I will not make her cry. I will never make her cry. She is very happy. I have provisioned her with an excellent lair. Any woman would be happy with the lair I have provided.”

“You know, women have specific tastes,” Darcy drawled. “They’re not one-size-fits-all.”

His brothers tensed at the human male’s continued needling.

Mal’s anger snapped. “You do not know this! I have fulfilled every desire she’ll ever have!”

“Good. Glad that’s settled.” Darcy planted his palms on the table, deflecting the argument in his easy way and diverting the tensions from Mal’s wife to the company. “So. The Carnelians stole the idea for comfy silk pajamas. I came up with a new idea. How do you feel about lingerie?”

With his distracting question, the meeting recommenced. But the doubt in Darcy’s manner returned to haunt Mal as he slaved over his work, studying diagrams of lingerie until his eyes blurred.

Cheryl would, of course, be very happy. Just as she had been last night, sliding her tight channel over his hard shaft as he plunged into her and brought her to ecstasy. His cock hardened again in preparation. Perhaps they would have sex again tonight. He was ready.

No. He had to stay at the office until he decided on the next product launch.

But he didn’t understand this lingerie idea.

“Lingerie is good in the short run,” Darcy had said. “Long-term, comfy pajamas are the best. But when a woman wants to look and feel sexy and powerful, she needs killer lingerie to knock a male dead.”

Then he’d had to explain that killing and knocking males dead was a metaphor for sex, not something male dragons had serious fears about.

If only the Carnelians hadn’t figured out the pajamas! Once Mal found the leak, he would bite their head off. And not in the human sense of the word either.

Amber entered his office during the quiet end of the ordinary workday. “You have the signed marriage application?”

He showed her the folder. She’d asked for it earlier and then flounced from the meeting after Darcy’s teasing before Mal could show his copy. “Signed, dated, and filed.”

She studied it. “Where’s Cheryl?”

“She’s taking command of her new lair.”

Taking command of it, rubbing her scent all over it, marking it as hers. That was what any female would do. It pleased him to think of her there, in the lair he’d built, making it ready for their dragonlets. Perhaps she was even cooking him dinner. Humans did such things for their mates. Darcy had told him so.

Amber returned the application folder to his desk. She lingered as though she wished to talk, which was unusual. Normally, the siblings limited their conversations to business. But it was still an improvement. Before Mal had gathered them together to embark on this enterprise, even the closest siblings had been flung to the far ends of the Empire and spoke less than once a year.

“She’s happy?” Amber finally asked.

“Of course,” he growled, irritated that her line of questioning took the same direction as Darcy’s. Perhaps Darcy had spoken to her. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

Amber didn’t reply. She perused the other folders spread across his desk.

“I want to speak with her tomorrow,” she said.

“Call her.”

“Here.” Amber moved to the doorway. “In person. Mal.”

His teeth clenched. With Cheryl in the building, he would be unable to concentrate, but he wouldn’t refuse Amber. She was a dominant, fire-breathing female. “Fine.”

She nodded and left him to his work.

When the sun had long descended and his shoulder blades itched intolerably, Mal finally stood and packed his research into a black leather briefcase to continue at his house. No, it was Cheryl’s lair now. He pushed open the door and stepped into the glass-encased shaft, secured the door behind him, and zoomed up, out, into the night air. The roof fell away beneath him, and the large disc-shaped belly of their spaceship floated overhead.

He flew across the star-speckled sky. The itching increased. He wanted to release his wings and feel the night. Stretch, breathe, exist. Think not of charts and products and coins, but of living, breathing, and Cheryl.

But that was dangerous.

And they would only need to be retracted again minutes later, so he suppressed the urge.

The lights of the lair were dim and romantic. Cheryl sat curled into a plush chair beside one of the giant stone fireplaces.

He swelled with rightness. Returning to her felt good. Appropriate.

A twinge unsettled him. Cheryl hadn’t married him out of pity or to be nice. She was his wife. She was happy. She wouldn’t leave.

He landed on the ice-encrusted pad and strode into the lair.

Cheryl stood with a cry. “You came back.”

Well, of course he came back. This was his home too. But the warble in her voice and the wildness in her damp eyes needled him with worry. “What do you mean?”

She raced across the floor and threw her arms around him. “You left me here all alone.”

Her shoulders shook.

He held her small softness. Something was wrong. Very wrong. “This is your home.”

“No.” She sniffed and stepped back, pushing him away. The distance felt cold. “This isn’t.”

With those three words, she rejected him and everything he’d built for her.

She started crying again. “Take me home. Right now.”

Mal looked thunderstruck.

At least, she thought he did. It was hard to tell through her tears. She wiped her wet cheeks and waited for him to say something.

But he didn’t.

Had he really expected her to hang out at his house all day like it was no big deal, sitting on a shelf until he got home? Did he think she had no feelings? Or life?

Did he think of her at all?

“This is your home,” he repeated, latching onto the argument he thought he could control.

Next, he would claim up was down and black was white.

“It’s a prison. And it’s yours.”

He tried to reach out to her.

She stepped back.

He flexed his empty hands, growling, and slammed a fist into the stone wall beside his head. “We’re married, so that makes this lair yours. And it’s not a prison.”

“Well, it did a pretty good job of keeping me in.”

“So you could claim it.”

He admitted it!

“You abandoned me,” she blubbered. “You left me alone all day with nothing. And I’m in pain and it’s all your fault.”

“You’re in pain? Where?” He crossed the distance in an instant, gripping her elbows and searching for her wounds, drawing her against his taut, masculine-scented skin.

His presence was like a drug. Her heart calmed as she fell under his spell.

If she allowed herself to get swept away by his mesmerizing appeal, passions would overtake her, and she’d get stuck.

She fought him off. “Don’t.”

He released her, but growled, low and deep. A razor’s edge of pain scarred his rough voice. “Touch me.”

“No.”

“I need to heal your pain.”

“Tough!” She hugged her elbows. The last thing she wanted right now was his kindness. She was mad! “It doesn’t even matter. Look, obviously I misunderstood. Last night was a mistake. Now I just want to go home.”

His eyes glowed green with fury. His control seemed to splinter. He roared. “This is your home!”

“It so is not!” she shouted back. “I could never live in this horrible place. I can’t stand it another minute.”

He huffed out, his anger giving way to surprise. Then hurt. He gathered himself, hunching. “Why did you stay this long?”

“How would I leave?” she snapped.

“Just go.”

So infuriating. “Do you have a hot air balloon hidden in your basement?” she demanded. “Maybe a jet pack you forgot to tell me about in the closet? Or are you expecting me to roll off a cliff like some goofy cartoon character to reach a road?”

He frowned.

Right. He had no idea. He hadn’t thought about her at all.

“Cheryl, we are married—”

“Stop.” She hugged herself. “We’re not even married.”

“You signed the marriage application.”

“That means nothing. We can cancel it all right now.”

“You can’t cancel. We’re married by your human laws.”

“Wrong.”

His eyes bulged. “Wrong?”

“We still have to say our vows in front of a licensed professional, like a pastor or a justice of the peace.” And she couldn’t imagine him promising to love and cherish her for all his days. He couldn’t even love or cherish her for one. The vows would choke her.

“So, when you signed.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “You knew it didn’t have any meaning?”

How dare he.

She sucked in a breath, fighting the squeeze on her tightening throat.

“You were just being nice?” he snarled. “You lied?”

“You’re the one who knew it had no meaning,” she cried. “You’re the one who lied!”

“We melded our bodies in the ritual of dragons. I completed my marriage to you.”

“Melding our bodies? Like sex? So dragons marry whoever they have sex with? And that’s it? That’s all there is to the ‘dragon marriage ceremony’?”

She actually wanted this to be true. She wanted him to say yes and tell her she was stuck, they were married, and he wanted this. Everything else was a misunderstanding. He did love her and wanted to marry her.

He opened his mouth and shut it again. Guilt flashed in his eyes.

Her heart sank heavily in her chest. She rubbed the painful weight.

She’d had long hours as the day crept into night and the moon shone hollowly upon the snow to consider her situation. Although she didn’t understand why Mal had picked her to tease, the end result was a torment. It was cruel, and she hadn’t thought him capable of cruelty. That betrayal hurt the worst of all.

“That’s what I thought.” She hugged herself even tighter and stomped her feet. “We’re not married. Not by your standards and not by mine.”

“Cheryl—”

She turned away and lifted her chin, refusing him. “And you abandoned me here all day. You didn’t think about me.”

He stood by her, helpless hands flexing. “Why didn’t you say something when you called?”

“You hung up on me.”

“I did not.”

Seriously. He couldn’t lie to her face like this. She’d frickin’ been there!

“Yes, you did,” she said. “You didn’t have time for me and hung up.”

“You asked what my plan was for us. I said we’d talk when I got home. And we’re talking. Like I said.”

“Hours later.”

“I’m running a billion-coin company. I can’t drop everything on a whim to plan our future.”

“I asked what your plan was for me today,” she screamed, throwing her fists at the floor and stomping her feet. She wanted to smack him hard.

He wisely backed up and gave her space.

She seethed. “Which was apparently to abandon me with nothing.”

“I left you in your new home,” he roared.

“Which is a barren stone fortress that doesn’t even have food!”

“What are you talking about? Of course it does.”

Huh? She crossed her arms. “It has food? Where?”

He snatched her wrist, overriding her protest, and marched her into the strangely bare stone room. “Here. In the kitchen.”

Okay. Fine. She forced herself to ignore the strong, sensual slide of his fingers against her bare wrist or the answering kindle of warmth in her belly. “I see blank walls.”

“Well.” He tsked and tugged her forward. “You have to activate them.”

She stared up at his face. “And how do I do that?”

He looked at her and blinked as if suddenly, he didn’t know either. His gaze dropped to her lips.

Hot awareness flared in her belly.

He focused on her with such intensity, it stole her breath. His chiseled jaw was so beautiful. She wanted to stroke it. Run her fingertips along the sharp edge and follow it with her tongue.

It would be so easy to give in.

He leaned forward and dropped his mouth to her—

“No.” She stopped him with a hand between their mouths. His stubble scraped her skin. “Wait.”

His dark brows drew down. Hurt clouded his green eyes. And something darker. Betrayal.

She wanted to comfort him. Let him kiss her until all the confusing sadness of today disappeared, and he made her feel loved again, and she did the same for him.

But she wasn’t ready to forgive him yet. He hadn’t apologized. Locking her in, whether they were officially married or not, wasn’t okay. She couldn’t roll over because he made her feel like shimmying out of her clothes.

Her stomach rumbled like a troll in a cavern.

Right.

She put her hand over her empty belly. “Please recall I’m starving.”

His frown shifted to the kitchen. He sucked in a breath, leaned back, and pressed her hand to the pristine granite wall.

Gold beads of light emerged on the corners of the stone and zipped across the granite like sparks. They circled her fingerprints and made glowing impressions.

“Claim these as yours, and they will open to you.”

From her waist down, the entire lower wall pushed out to form a counter. Her hand rested on the edge, and her thumb touched the flat front.

Her thumbprint glowed again; sustained touch had activated it. A chunk of the cabinet pushed out to reveal a big drawer. It whooshed open to display fruit pops…waffles…and the entire frozen foods section of a grocery store.

The first section of the drawer held racks of frozen beef, the next section held chicken, the next one fish, then vegetables, fruits, ice creams, other desserts, and coffee. The endless drawer slid across the entire kitchen and hit the other wall, and still more bins seemed hidden inside.

“There’s frozen food,” she said unsteadily. “Uh, why is over half of it coffee beans?”

“Freezing preserves freshness.” He touched her hand to the rim of the counter again, and the drawer reversed itself, sliding back until it was flush with the wall. “What do you desire? Lobster? Brie?”

Yes, those sounded delicious.

He tugged her forward, sliding her hand along the cabinets, over the counter, and along the back wall. The kitchen came alive with zipping gold sparks. Things folded in on themselves and flipped around like secret bookshelves in Batman’s cave. They revealed an espresso machine, oven, movie theater popcorn maker, and slushie machine. And those were just the appliances she identified before a second touch flipped them away.

He collected entrées, led her to the dining room, and set out dinner on the rustic table. The moment he touched the table, silverware and napkins emerged, and a cushion inflated to cup and warm her butt.

Amazing.

What next? Was the silverware going to do Beauty and the Beast acrobatics and start singing?

They didn’t.

She hacked off a chunk of the expensive French cheese and slathered it on a crisp, stone-ground wheat cracker.

Mal walked to a wall and touched the flat stone. A cabinet of glassware emerged.

She swallowed the cheese and forked a thick slice of crispy, oven-roasted chicken loaded with creamy rosemary mashed potatoes. Her mood improved. “How was I supposed to know everything was hidden in this house?”

“By claiming it.”

That’s what he had said before. She puzzled over the phrase.

He touched the wall next to the glassware. A wine bar opened out of the wall, and behind it, stairs descended. He disappeared down them and, a minute later, returned with a dark red bottle with an old French label. He touched the edge of the bar, and it closed over the stairs, returning to the seamless wall.

The answer unexpectedly emerged. Much like the secrets of this house.

“So when you left me here to ‘claim my house,’ you expected me to walk around and touch everything? Like, rub myself on the walls and floors and the furniture?”

He nodded as though it were obvious.

“You could have given me a hint,” she said.

“It never occurred to me you wouldn’t do this.” He poured a glass of ruby red wine and placed it in front of her. “It’s the dragon way.”

She crunched into another rich, cheese-covered cracker, drank the glass of fantastic wine, and broke into the freshly roasted garlic-buttered lobster. Perfection.

And then she pointed out the obvious. “You know I’m not a dragon.”

He watched her eat warily without taking anything for himself. “Yes.”

“Just checking.” She slathered another chicken slice with the aromatic potatoes. Her stomach thanked her for the food. It was the best she’d ever eaten. “Because I did, you know, use your desk and your phone, and I sat in that armchair. And none of those had any secrets.”

“The chair reclines.”

“That’s not exactly a secret with armchairs.”

He stared at her, palms open. “You selected the three pieces of furniture in the house that hold no secrets.”

“And I also used your bed, and your bathroom, and—”

“I was unclear.” The hint of a growl returned to his voice. He offered the bottle. “Another glass?”

God, yes.

But oh, no. She couldn’t afford to go out drinking so she was a lightweight, and she definitely couldn’t afford to get drunk with him right now.

Cheryl covered the mouth of the glass with her palm. “I need to get home.”

His chin dropped. “You still wish to leave me?”

“Yes.”

For an instant, tiredness seemed to overwhelm him. He stared at the bottle in his hand. His eyes, already framed by dark shadows, seemed to sink deeper into exhaustion. His right shoulder shifted, and he flinched as though he were experiencing a muscle spasm between his tensed shoulder blades.

She wiped her buttery fingers on a napkin and rose.

His chiseled jaw clenched as he seemed to muscle through his momentary pain. He swept from the room, and his rough voice summoned her. “Time is wasting. We leave now.”

See? She crumpled the napkin. He couldn’t wait to get rid of her. He was too busy.

She was an afterthought.

Mal flew through the night, his woman curled around him, where she belonged. Except he was returning her to the city, where she would leave him forever.

Cheryl had rejected him.

She hated his lair. She negated their marriage. She refused his touch, his passion, him.

“I need to get my tablet,” she said as the sprawling suburban lights clustered into the metropolis beneath them. “It’s at the school you kidnapped me from yesterday.”

He returned to the college gallery. The upper floors and windows were locked tight, so he descended to the main doors. They were also locked.

“God, it’s so late.” She peered through the full-length windows. Her teeth made a chattering sound, and the windows rattled under her fingers. “I wonder if they left it on the table. Maybe my professor has it.”

She texted her professor. He indeed had her tablet at his house and was also willing to meet with her to finish her portfolio review. She whitened. “I can’t get there at this hour.”

“I’ll take you,” Mal said.

“Okay. And then do you mind waiting? I know it’s late. He lives in Tigard.”

Tigard was in the southwest quadrant of Portland, and her home was in the northeast.

Of course Mal could take her. The hour was before midnight. Didn’t she realize he’d come home early? To see her? He usually stayed awake at the office far later.

“I don’t mind.”

She breathed out and wrapped her trusting arms around his neck. Her head rested on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

His chest squeezed.

He ascended.

In his arms was where she belonged. In his arms was how she must remain.

But she’d rejected him.

The pain stabbed into his vulnerable human chest like ten swords. He endured it through the flight and, after arriving at the destination, while waiting through the portfolio review.

The professor emerged from an ordinary bungalow-style house, walked down the cement walkway, and handed Cheryl her digital art tablet. “I glanced through while waiting. Did you have anything to add?”

She clutched her thin black tablet to her chest and shook her head.

“Then neither do I. It’s more of what we discussed. The only thing left is grades.”

While they spoke, Mal watched from the shadows.

The streetlight shone down on Cheryl and reflected her quiet, serious expression.

Her profile made his chest ache.

This wasn’t the first time he’d looked at something that would never be his and endured the pain of it. He growled under his breath. Endure it.

When his father was killed in a mining accident and had to be cremated in an anonymous mass grave rather than honored in the aristocratic family tomb, Mal endured. When everyone said he and his low-class siblings would die the same meaningless deaths, he endured. When even his own siblings didn’t believe in his crazy dream to make their fortune on a distant planet named Earth, he endured.

All that pain had crystallized into a sharp green stone burning in the center of his chest and pushed him harder to win. To work more, to dare impossibilities, to fly into the darkness and succeed.

They’d landed here on Earth, the company had prospered, and he’d almost proven that the low-class Outer Rim Onyx family was important. It was too late for his father, but perhaps Mal’s death would someday be celebrated with a giant, horizon-darkening bier in the heart of Draconis itself.

His glorious passing would not be mourned by Cheryl. He’d given her everything. She didn’t need him.

The pain stabbed deeper.

Endure it.

“Am I going to pass?” she was asking her professor.

The human male yawned. “What do you think?”

She remained pale and quiet.

“You missed most of your portfolio review. You’re still creating cutesy art. You can’t identify your own best work for the gallery show.”

“Did I fail?” she whispered.

“I don’t like to fail students,” he said. “So do your assignment. Bring three showpieces to the Student-Employer Art Show next week. Make them your best work. If employers assault you with bags of cash, you’ll know your grade.”

Their conference concluded, and her professor returned to his house. Cheryl carried the tablet to Mal. Her eyes shone with moisture.

“So, that’s done.” She sniffled and put her arms around him again. “Now, home.”

Not their home. Hers.

Mal rose into the air, endured the ache as he crossed the short distance, and landed in front of a squat beige building. The windows were dark, and it seemed empty.

“Mom must be at work.” She stepped back and clutched her tablet. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

Her shining eyes skated away from him, unable to maintain contact. He hadn’t realized how clearly she always looked at him. Even before, when she was just an intern, she met his gaze directly. Now, she receded in every way. The distance was already an uncrossable chasm.

“Assuming I still have a job.” She tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear.

“Why must you assume so?” he asked.

“Because, you know, this.” She wiggled a finger between them. “Sleeping with the boss. It’s not good.”

Sleeping with him hadn’t been good?

Another truth slammed into his chest: sex had been bad. He should have studied the educational human sexuality videos on the XXX channel more carefully. He should have made himself into the kind of male she would desire and then given her the pleasure she deserved.

“Jasper is your boss,” he pointed out. “Do not sleep with him.”

“Oh God, no. Just… Never mind.” She turned to go into the house and leave him.

He’d given her everything. She didn’t want him.

Endure it.

A magnetic force grabbed his heart in its fist and yanked him after her.

He crossed the distance to Cheryl in a single stride and enveloped her soft body in a hug, pressing her back against his chest.

She stopped, surprised, and then she curled a palm around his forearm and remained still.

What was he doing?

He had endured a thousand hardships. A thousand pains. He’d allowed himself no sleep for weeks and no wing stretches for years. He didn’t break when people discarded him. He kept them at a distance so it didn’t hurt—even though it always did. That sudden shock of realizing only he cared never wore off. He just had to work harder. He was so close. He just had to work.

Let Cheryl go and endure it.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t endure losing her. He wasn’t number one yet. But he couldn’t let her go.

She shifted her weight onto her heels. “Mal?”

“I need you with me.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “You didn’t think about me at all today.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You liar.”

“It’s the truth.”

She swallowed and partially turned toward his face. Her soft cheek brushed his bicep. “But you left me all alone.”

“I’m sorry.” He rested his forehead against the back of her head and buried his nose in her silky hair. “I wanted to keep you away from me so I could focus on the company. But it didn’t work. I was coming home early to meet you because I couldn’t stand being apart any longer.”

She licked her lips. “You know I got stuck in that house.”

“Yes. I was aware this would occur.”

She fully turned in his arms. Anger mixed with a tone of self-righteous triumph. “You knew!”

He owned his mistake as he owned her, in his arms. “I didn’t consider your wishes. I wanted to lock you up in my lair so you would claim it as yours. That way, you would stay with me forever.”

Her cheeks spotted with color even as the streetlight washed out the rest of her face and lips to pale white. “Even though we’re not really married?”

“I’ll fix it so we are.” He stroked her soft side, savoring the sensation of her body in his arms.

Her lids half closed, then snapped open. “You still tricked me.”

Whatever he’d done, he owned it, regretted it, released it. Pressing her soft waist against his hardening cock, he nuzzled the cool skin at her nape and teased her to delicious gasps with his teeth. “I thought the application was all humans required. I conducted insufficient research.”

“But you knew we weren’t married by the dragon way.”

He drew back. Her eyes fixed on him, worried and hopeful.

“The dragon way requires presenting a dragonlet recognized by the family matriarch.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not married until after you’ve had a kid together?”

“Correct.”

That was why his parents’ marriage had never been recognized. His mother presented seven dragonlets to their full-blooded, aristocratic grandmother, and none were deemed worthy. Not him, not any of his siblings. None.

His blood boiled.

But this was about the woman in his arms. The one he wished to already be married to. “I’ll call your justice of the peace tomorrow.”

She looked over her shoulder at the house.

He nuzzled her neck in the sensitive soft spot below her ear and squeezed her curvy waist, grinding her hot cleft against his cock, using all his powers to coerce her into giving in to his demands. “Return with me. Come now.”

She sucked in a long breath. “Mal…”

He kissed her lips.

She yielded to him, moving her mouth on his with a searing heat. He crushed her softness to him. She moaned. He took advantage of her parted lips to deepen their connection, branding her with his tongue, pumping into her mouth and drawing hotter moans.

She slipped her cool hands under his silk shirt and rested on his hips. He could have purred. He kissed down her jaw to her delicate neck.

“Mal.” She dug her nails into his back. “You can’t leave me at that place ever again.”

“I promise.” He sucked on the artful column of her neck, tracing her fluttering pulse with his tongue.

“God.” She clung to him. “You’re cheating. I forget why I was so mad.”

Yes. Forget. He would earn back her forgiveness with his will.

“We can’t do this on the street.” She sighed and gripped his collar to stop him. “Let me get a couple of things from the house.”

He released her at her wish and followed her into the small building. The brown carpets were dark and worn, and the furnishings shabby. It smelled a little like her and a lot like an older female, suggesting this was her mother’s lair.

Cheryl shook papers out of a torn cloth tote bag and put in granola bars and creamy peanut butter. She padded down the hall to the bathroom and flicked on the light.

He stalked after her. “I provided everything a female needs.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t see toothpaste.” She wiggled the mostly compressed tube at him and dropped it in the bag, frowned at the rest of the clutter, and clicked off the light.

Had he forgotten toothpaste? Dragons used lasers for sterilizing and whitening, and many humans did so now as well. Perhaps this comforting relic had escaped his notice.

She padded down the dim, street-lit hallway to the single bedroom. A bedraggled sheet hung from a line tacked across the middle of the room, dividing it into two spaces. Cheryl ducked under the sheet and rummaged in an open cardboard box.

“You share a sleeping room with your mother?”

“What else are you going to do in a one-bedroom?” She looked up at him in challenge. “Anyway, she’s never home, so it’s like having my own.”

“It looks like a comfortable nest.”

The honesty made her hackles go down. She opened a box of drawings and art supplies, looked at her bag, and grimaced.

“Do you wish to take the box?” He could secure it if she wished.

She shook her head. “I wish I’d had a chance to ask my mom which pieces to submit for my final review. Then I wouldn’t have been short.”

“You draw quickly.”

“None of it’s commercial.” She rubbed her forehead hard with her fingertips as though trying to push in the knowledge she needed to make a commercial piece. “My professor’s trying to help me succeed. I don’t want to be a starving artist.”

“My wife will never starve.”

She glanced at him. “I’m just kidding. But I want to…I don’t know. Make my degree worthwhile. Accomplish something big after I graduate so my mom can see the sacrifices of the last four years were worth it. So I don’t let her down.”

Ah. He understood wishing to prove his skills.

“I will judge your review pieces,” he offered.

She snorted and closed the box. “It’s okay.”

Irritation crackled. She was hiding from him again. Even though they were not baring their skin, hiding her art felt the same. He rose to his full height. “Show me.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Now.”

“Forget it.” She returned the box to its pile. “It’s my old work anyway. My new pieces are on my tablet. I’ll show you at the house.”

Desperation clawed at him. A strange need, a hunger not to be denied. “Do not withhold yourself from me.”

“Withhold?” She lifted one brow like he was crazy. “Look. I’m exhausted, I’m sore everywhere, I’m hungry again, and I’m actually still mad at you. So let me finish packing, and we’ll be out of here.”

The determination in her brown eyes centered him. It calmed the desperation and reassured his inner fears. She wasn’t withholding herself. Not when she looked at him so firmly.

“You’re sore everywhere?” He hoped it wasn’t from escape attempts. Curse his assumption she would be happy to nest all day in the lair he had built for her. “Why?”

She reddened. “I sort of used muscles that had never been used before. You know.”

He didn’t know.

“Last night.” She blushed harder. “When we were together. In the bed. Together.”

Ah. “This is why the sex was bad? Because it caused you soreness?”

“What? It wasn’t bad.”

“You said it was bad.”

“I did not.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

She held up her hand to stall him. “It was great. It was… Well, it was life-changing. And great. Or, at least, I thought so.” She bit her lip.

Another small pain in him eased. The sex had not been bad. It had been great. He could improve upon great.

“It changed my life also,” he said.

She released her lip, and her smile softened. “Oh. Okay. Good.”

“I will ease your soreness.”

Her smile quirked. “I didn’t expect it to be so vigorous. It’s like exercise. Good exercise, but I should have stretched first.” She returned to packing.

Despite her reassurance, a niggling awareness told him he’d missed something. In his desperation to have her to himself, he’d forgotten a critical point. A critical point that was becoming clearer and more terrible with every passing second.

He’d ignored her needs.

Not just her wishes.

Her needs.

She looked at her things, stuffed a few more clothing items into the tote bag, and tried to heave it onto her shoulder. It was overstuffed and slid down her elbow to the floor with a thump.

He pulled the bag from her grip, desperate to correct his mistakes. “Give it to me.”

“Don’t drop it.” She led him out of the house, locked the front door, and linked her arms around his neck. “I don’t want to lose my underwear in someone’s front yard.”

“I provided you with underwear.”

She nestled closer as they zoomed through the air. “Probably not in my size.”

Had he not? He flew faster, eager to return her to their lair and check his own preparations.

Once at the house, he kept his grip on her and flew through to their bedroom, releasing her inside to examine the closet. In fact, yes, in the drawers he caused to emerge from the closet walls, he’d gathered multiple sizes of underwear, including some that would surely fit her.

He lifted a fistful of panties. “Try these. One will fit.”

“Maybe later.” She shivered and hugged herself.

“Now.”

“Mal, come on.” She laughed through her shivers. “I just flew through a blizzard. The last thing I want to do is take off my clothes.”

He didn’t understand.

She tilted her head. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s snowing outside. Aren’t you cold?”

“I don’t feel cold. All temperatures on this planet are within my comfort zone.”

“Even the South Pole?” She rubbed her arms. “What about the inside of a volcano?”

“That’s too hot,” he admitted. “I prefer temperatures between negative one hundred fifty degrees and positive two hundred degrees Fahrenheit.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That’s almost boiling.”

“Yes, I prefer not boiling.”

But this conversation led him closer to the uncomfortable conclusion he’d begun to reach at her house.

For the umpteenth time today, his desires overrode hers. His actions caused her pain. His demands prolonged her suffering, and he hadn’t even noticed.

He’d provided food, but he hadn’t shown her how to access it. He’d given her a perfect lair, but he hadn’t allowed her the freedom to leave it. He’d been so eager to return and show off his offerings, he’d exceeded her temperature comfort range and had frozen her. And then he’d been so determined to prove himself right, he’d neglected to assuage that pain.

She was exhausted, sore, and hungry. Because of his flight, she was also cold. He’d allowed this to happen. She’d suffered from his inattention.

He paid attention to the tiniest insignificant detail in his company.

He did not pay attention to his wife.

That changed now.

She rolled her shoulders, still hugging herself for warmth. “I could stand a little boiling right now.”

Because of his neglect.

“I will draw you a bath.”

She looked at him. A frown stole over her face. “Oh. That’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”

“Please.” He strode to her side. Paying attention—really paying attention—was what he should have done from the moment she agreed to his proposal. “Let me care for you.”

Her eyes turned shiny again, and her lower lip trembled. She covered it with her hand. “Care…for me?”

“Come.” He took her hand and drew her into the bathroom. “I will attend to your needs and tell you all you wish to know.”

Mal promised to take care of her and tell her anything she wanted to know?

Cheryl was almost afraid to believe him. But when he appealed to her so gently, she couldn’t stop herself.

It was her fantasy. She wanted him. Was he offering himself? She’d take it.

Cheryl followed him into the bathroom. He showed her how to fill the huge pearly bathtub, how to operate the jets, and how to change the temperature and color and scent of the bubbles.

She chose a soothing lemon-lavender, and they both watched the tub fill.

At his insistence, she peeled the two-day-old clothes off. It was easier the second time…but it was harder because she could fool herself that he wasn’t able to see her naked body in the romantically dim bedroom. She couldn’t fool herself in the brightly lit bathroom.

She tried to cover her private parts.

He growled. His eyes glowed a possessive green that made her feel beautiful and powerful. He wanted to see her naked. That was the rough meaning of that delicious growl.

She eased her hands to her thighs. He relaxed. Too bad she wasn’t a nudist. His hungry gaze made her heart beat so fast. And it was unfair—he was still fully dressed.

He leaned over, sleeves rolled up, and shut off the bubble-filled water. “Soak here. I will scrub your body.”

She grabbed the side of the tub for balance and paused with one foot in the air. “Aren’t you getting in with me?”

“I must gather food and bring you a glass of wine.”

“Oh.” That was good too. She let go of the tub and reached for a fluffy robe hanging from the wall hook. “I can help.”

He arrested her hand. “Please bare your body.”

His rough tone made her throat dry and a growing familiar pulse throb between her sore thighs. “You won’t even be here.”

“Please.” His jaw worked. “I need it.”

He needed her naked in his bathroom? Well…because it was him asking… She released the robe.

“Get in the water and warm yourself. I will return.”

Well, she was cold. He helped her step into the deep tub—it went up to her waist in the deepest part—and she leaned into the sensual curve of the porcelain. With his eyes still crackling electric green, he departed.

Cheryl relaxed into a dreamy state as mounds of frothy lavender bubbles swirled around her in Mal’s giant, rainbow-colored bath.

Mal was a mass of contradictions. He growled that he had no time for her, and yet he couldn’t bear to let her leave. He seemed hurt, almost physically pained when she tried to cover herself, and he was always demanding she touch him.

Didn’t he know he was gorgeous and irresistible? In comparison, she was plain and very, very resistible.

He had begged her to return to his house with him, and he seemed growly and desperate when she turned her attention away from him for a single moment. But she still doubted their relationship, especially after the shocks earlier today.

He was mistaken about his attraction and a second look at her naked body would repel him. Wasn’t that why his eyes glowed green as she shyly undressed but he refused to touch her and quickly left?

But, perhaps…just perhaps he was as awkward as she was, and so he didn’t know how to show it.

She scooped up a handful of lavender water. It slid through her fingers, splashing in the bubbles with soothing, wet tinkles.

This was his first relationship. Mal pursued everything seriously. Now he focused on his corporation and beating his rivals. If, someday, he turned his full attention on her…

She shivered. And it wasn’t from the cold, which had long since melted into soothing, liquid warmth caressing her limbs and making her deliciously sleepy.

Then maybe he would want to have their baby and present Cheryl to his mother and officially marry her into a dragon family.

She rested her hot forehead on the warm edge of the bath. A smile tugged at her lips. Wouldn’t that be amazing?

When he held her close and told her he wanted to care for her, she almost believed it could be so.

Mal returned what felt like moments later with the promised food and wine. She drank her second glass and ate her second dinner of the night, and this time, sitting on a short stool, he joined her. It was peaceful and fun and intimate.

Then, after she finished, he rolled up his sleeves and lathered soap. He started with her right hand, threading his fingers through hers, massaging her forearm, sculpting her biceps, and squeezing her shoulder.

Her muscles relaxed into sensuous heaven.

He lathered her left arm and continued down her back, kneading her butt into gooey dough, and her front, squeezing her breasts and washing every place thoroughly. He finished with her toes, and he even shampooed and conditioned her hair.

Her body felt wrapped in a golden light.

But somehow, he seemed upset.

“Why are you still angry?” she asked.

His eyes glimmered with anger. “I’m not angry.”

Um, she was pretty sure he was. “Your dragon tail is twitching.”

“What?” He looked behind him. “I’m not showing my tail.”

“It was a metaphor.”

His brow cocked at her in confusion. But if he said he wasn’t angry, then his anger probably didn’t have anything to do with her.

“Fine.” He sat back on his heels. “Why will you not show me your art?”

Whoa. She eased against the opposite side of the tub. She’d been right, and he was angry, and more importantly, he was still hung up on a comment she’d made hours ago.

“Why do I have to show you my art? It’s crap.”

“I’ll be the judge.”

“Obviously, that’s the last thing I want.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Well, because. “I only want to show you the good things. Stuff you could enjoy or admire. Not cutesy Hallmark pictures that belong on greeting cards.”

“What’s wrong with greeting cards?”

“They’re not commercial.”

“Aren’t they? Don’t you purchase these greeting cards for every holiday and occasion, some even stuffed with good wishes or money, at all major retail outlets?”

Ah. Um, right.

“I mean, my art probably isn’t good enough for that,” she said. “Nobody would want to pay me for it.”

His brow furrowed. “Our company is already paying you for your art.”

Yeah, but look at the logo they had selected.

“Dragon tastes are different from human tastes,” she tried to explain with tact. He had, after all, hired her.

“I like everything you’ve ever made.”

The bath got a hundred times hotter. Her heart squeezed and threatened to jump right out of her chest. He was so certain, so arrogant, so kind. She wanted to hug him and cry.

“Human taste is, uh, more judgmental,” she said lamely.

“That’s why I must judge,” he stated, equally certain of his truth. “I will correctly assess which of your art is best to send through the mail. Although it may be everything.”

Oh God. She was going to fall in love with him even harder than she already had.

“Um, maybe another time. I’m super tired.”

His insistence stopped. The argument, though delayed, would come again. But she was grateful he put it away and concentrated on her now.

He dried her in a fluffy towel and carried her to bed like a princess in his arms. The turbulent emotions of the past days drained out of her like the bath water, and warm, fuzzy exhaustion swept over her. Even though she was with him in the bed where they’d made love, she was so tired, her eyelids slid closed on their own.

He stroked her cheek with his index finger. “Rest now.” He shifted to the edge of the bed to leave.

She clamped his wide hand in hers. “Stay with me.”

He hesitated.

Ah. Right. The hurt dulled to acceptance. She’d already taken up too much of his time. Her mistake.

She released his hand and oozed deeper into the sheets.

Warmth shifted behind her, and Mal’s body pressed into the mattress. He was sleeping with her! His arm locked around her belly, cinching her to his hard body.

How long would it last this time, before he left her again in the cold bed alone?

Mal’s eyes snapped open.

His body was warm and rested as though he’d slept for a hundred years. He held his woman in his arms. Her breaths eased in and out, slow and steady. Morning light warmed his pillows. The day was still and at peace.

The day.

He released his wife and bolted upright. The transmission from Draconis. The Outer Rim Company Rank List. He’d missed it.

Hellfire.

Mal leaped from the bed and flew to the desk as though he could somehow go fast enough to reverse time. But time didn’t reverse. When he arrived, the transmission had still passed him by. He never bothered to record it because he was always awake to hear it live.

Blasting brimstone.

He raked a hand across his face. How had he missed his alarm? Maybe he forgot to set it. Maybe someone turned it off. He would normally check those things, but his wife had begged him to stay with her so sweetly…

She emerged from the bedroom, yawning, with a sleepy smile on her face. “Morning.”

His panic made room for a flush of warmth. Her nubile curves emerged from the fuzzy blanket she held to her chest and made him want to dive back into the bed with her.

No, there was no time for that. He had to confess his error to his siblings, decide on the next product to launch, and call a justice of the peace.

But first, the main irritation remained. “Will you show me your art?”

She choked mid-yawn. “Isn’t it a little early?”

Resistance. Again.

Very well. He would attend to the pressing needs, but this final portfolio review would not be forgotten.

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked.

She blinked and looked down at her blanket. “Uh, give me a minute to change.” She hurried to the bedroom, and her voice rose, sad and forlorn, a few moments later. “If you can, uh, show me where to find the clothes?”

He showed her the closet and then watched her gorgeous body wiggle into undergarments, dark jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a clean hoodie.

Now that her clothes were on, he wanted to stop and peel them off again. He needed to rub himself on her skin so, even naked, everyone would know she was his.

She glanced over and caught him staring. Her cheeks stained red and her eyes sparkled. “What are you thinking about?”

“Claiming you.”

She blushed even harder.

He grabbed her around the waist, eliciting a startled squeak, and gave in to his obsessive need. He ran his hands up her arms, yanked her T-shirt out of her jeans, and rubbed her soft belly against him.

She giggled. “Hey. Stop. That tickles!”

When she was thoroughly covered in his scent and he was ramrod-hard—and fighting his desire to pinion her to the closet wall and bury his shaft deep within her wet, feminine sheath—he acquiesced to her stated desires and released her.

She caught her breath and almost seemed sorry he’d stopped. “Wait.”

He obeyed.

“You messed yourself up.” She fixed his collar and adjusted his suit jacket.

Grooming? She was grooming him?

Warm satisfaction glowed in his body. He threw his shoulders back and stood tall, making himself appear more powerful to attract her deeply.

Her smile faded. She patted his collar. “Okay. Now you’re ready.”

He covered her hands to hold her in place. “Something saddens you.”

“Oh. No.” She blushed and tried to tug her hands free. “I was just thinking you’re good-looking. That’s all.”

Yet his good looks made her sad. “Do you wish me to be ugly?”

“That’s impossible.” Her laughter subsided with another sigh. “You’re perfect just as you are.”

You’re perfect just as you are.

His chest tightened. He didn’t know how to respond.

Mal wasn’t perfect. Their company still trailed behind the Carnelians’. He’d missed the outer planet report for the first time since landing on Earth. They were still not married. There were many things wrong.

And she would not willingly bare herself to him and show him her art.

He didn’t know how to say that, so instead, he focused on what he understood: going to work and working. “Ready?”

“Yes. No!” Her eyes widened, and she jerked free. “Let me grab my tablet. And my coat. And breakfast. Just a second.”

Once again, he focused on himself and ignored her needs.

Already he forgot his commitments. The company was easy. It was a checklist of basic tasks. Thinking of his wife—paying careful attention to her—that was hard.

Because it was a luxury. Giving all his care to her was like giving in to his deepest urges. If he wasn’t careful, his control would slip.

“Take as many seconds as you need,” he told her.

She hurried around the lair gathering her materials and disappeared into the kitchen.

He found a nice thick jacket for her in the closet. His skin was twitchy from the need to depart. Or take her back into the bedroom. But he would wait patiently, even if it killed him.

He was also too conscious of her in the kitchen. How would it be in the office together? Today, he was going to be worthless.

His phone rang. It was Jasper.

“When will you arrive?” His normally placid operations manager sounded on edge. “Amber wants to start the meeting.”

His chest heated. They were doing things without him. “What meeting? I called no meeting.”

“How else can we handle this emergency?”

“What emergency?”

“Didn’t you listen to the broadcast?”

His stomach sank. He’d only missed one broadcast in his entire tenure. “What?”

Jasper’s tone turned flat. “Our mother discovered that we asked our uncle to take her on the pleasure cruise to delay her from meeting our nonexistent women. She’s furious. And she says if we care more about our company than about our own mother, then we can just run our company by ourselves.”

“What does that mean?” Mal demanded. “She won’t let us use the aristocrat transport stations under her name? We’ll have to fight for landing space on standby?”

“She’s given away our port privileges.”

“Entirely? How will we land on Draconis to sell our clothes?”

“We can’t,” he said grimly.

They were barred from the planet. They’d just become an import company that couldn’t import anything.

“There’s a narrow window until the transfer takes effect. Therefore, this launch will be our final one.” Jasper’s voice hardened with determination. “Let’s make it our best.”

Mal slumped in his seat.

This launch would be the end of the company and their final chance to reach number one.

Cheryl was glad to get into the office.

The morning hadn’t been restful. A big, snorting dragon tried to dress her in a coat while she was making a peanut butter sandwich, asking every few seconds if she was ready to go. She’d abandoned her lunch.

Mal had flown her to the office building across the river in a hair-blasting fifteen minutes. It was like having the top down on a convertible airplane.

Going down the glass shaft from the roof was kind of cool. He was careful in the confined space. Then he opened the window to his office and let her off on the carpet.

The carpet felt familiar and solid under her feet. The office door was open, and the sounds of the early morning coffee makers filtered in.

She turned in his arms to thank him for the flight.

His distracted gaze was already looking past her at the mountains of papers on his desk. “Amber wants to speak to you.”

No, she wouldn’t be dismissed by him just yet. She put her hand on his forearm. “What’s your plan for me today?”

He tore his gaze away and focused on her. “Get you out of here so I can work.”

His bluntness would get him stabbed with his own letter opener.

Then again, after the turbulence of the past two days, the ups and downs of finding their places after what they’d shared, sliding back into their familiar roles made sense. He was the growly, work-obsessed CEO, and she was his lowly intern. It was nice. Irresponsible. Comfy.

She still intended to force a real answer from him. “I meant are we meeting for lunch or—”

“I don’t have time for lunch.”

Of course not. She tightened her grip on his arm. “What time are you taking me home tonight?”

He blinked and focused on her. Good. She had his complete attention. “Late. We have to select a product today. I’ll stay until it’s done.”

“Do you want me to go to my mom’s or—”

“No.” He put his wide palm over her hand with a possessive warmth. “Come to me when you want to leave. I’ll take you.”

Great. That was all she wanted. A plan.

She tugged her hand away to leave him as he requested.

He tugged her back. His eyes flared green, and he kissed her. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth. She melted into his embrace. His hard arousal pressed like a promise against her waist, and his hands sought her skin, wiggling under the hem of her hoodie and T-shirt.

Oh. No getting naked! The office door was open. She arrested his hands and pulled back.

He blinked and then growled. She could almost hear his demand to bare herself.

“Your work,” she said quickly. “And mine. I’ve got to finish my portfolio.”

He wavered and then released her abruptly. “Get out. Before I do more to you to waste our time.”

Well, gosh, she wouldn’t go so far as to call making out a waste. But she hurried to the door before he changed his mind. In the doorway, she glanced back.

Mal slumped in his seat and rubbed his face.

He was so passionate about his work. He loved crushing pressure and impossible deadlines. The stress lines around his eyes, which smoothed when they were together, now crimped the shadows around his eyes.

And then he straightened, putting the weight of the company and everyone who worked there on his shoulders, and reached for the top folder.

She peeked out of his office door. The hall was empty and the elevator closed. She snuck across the carpet, scurried behind her intern desk, and slouched in her office chair with a sigh.

Had it only been three days since she’d sat here? It felt like longer than a holiday weekend.

She logged into the computer and settled in. Time to steal the company internet to read job applications for after she graduated next week—assuming she passed her last class, of course. She navigated to the online job boards.

In another tab, her computer auto-logged into DeviantArt, and a chat window from DragonLord C popped up. He wanted to set a meeting.

Well, since today was an ordinary day at the office, she could—

“Hello, Cheryl,” Jasper said.

She closed the chat window and greeted her boss.

“How was your final portfolio review?”

“Eh.” She rubbed her forehead. “My professor doesn’t like my art.”

“Oh,” said Jasper.

The silence stretched.

But despite the awkwardness, it was a little easier to talk to him. Apparently, she had a tolerance level for super-hot dragon shifters, and immersion exposure to Mal increased her immunity to the others.

“How are you?” She remembered to ask for the first time since starting to work for him.

He didn’t react to the new development. “Busy. We’re trying to decide on the next product to launch. Nothing seems as comfortable as pajamas.”

“You could do hoodies.”

“We did those ages ago when we launched outerwear.”

Her face heated. Had she made a suggestion to her boss? For something they already made? Jeez.

“It was right after you got hired. It was popular.”

At least she hadn’t suggested something that bombed.

He lingered at the edge of her desk, staring at her like he was waiting for her to say something.

She had to set the place for a lunchtime meeting with DragonLord C, but she couldn’t pop up the chat window and slack with her boss standing right in front of her. “Uh, are you waiting for something?”

“No.”

Another beat passed. He was definitely waiting. But for what? Her shyness started up a slow burn, and she toyed with her tablet stylus.

He spoke. “Did you want a tuxedo mocha?”

“Huh?”

“Alex made one for you last week.”

Oh. Yes, he had.

But what was going on?

“I can make you a French vanilla latte, or a peppermint mocha, or a caramel macchiato?” His inflection lifted with the offer.

Although any of those would be delicious, his strange tension made her lose her appetite. She shook her head.

“Anything?” he asked.

She shook her head harder and folded her hands. Something was weird.

Alex approached the desk. “It’s ready.”

“Good,” Jasper said.

At first, she felt relief, because clearly, Alex’s arrival was why Jasper had been waiting. But then the impeccably dressed Alex turned his exotic lavender-and-turquoise eyes on her. “This way.”

She heated everywhere. Without understanding, she fumbled to her feet and followed.

Her boss walked after her, closing off her escape.

Alex led her into the executive suite next to Mal’s. It was the largest, with a more palatial desk, twice as many windows overlooking the scenic parking lot, and a conference table with a giant holograph of their home planet, Draconis, spinning in the middle.

She had a vague notion this office was reserved for the true owner of the corporation: Mal’s mother. The gigantic, golden, aristocratic dragon lady seemed to give them all the shivers. They spoke of her in hushed tones. Even Amber.

In Mal’s mother’s absence, they used the executive office for guests and interviews. Cheryl had had her interview in here. They’d all stared at her without asking a single question, then they’d brought in Jeanine, who looked at her and said, “What? She’s a college student. Why’d you bring me in here?” And they’d hired her on the spot.

So now she was kind of, sort of applying to marry Mal, were they going to interview her again?

Oh God. She twisted her fingers in the hem of her hoodie. Please no.

Alex stood beside the grandiose desk. “What do you think?”

It was hard to think anything besides oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

“I hope you like it. You can change anything to suit your tastes. Color, furnishings. You name it. We can complete the work today. Right, Jasper?”

“Anything but structural changes.” Her boss frowned. “Those require the weekend.”

Wait. What were they saying?

“Only one weekend,” Alex repeated, as though trying to make the best of the delay. “I apologize for our disorganization. Mal’s determination is legendary. However, we didn’t believe he would succeed in his goal to find a wife so quickly.”

“Yes.” Jasper stood beside the other end of the gigantic desk, forming an elite bookend. “In future, we’ll have the structural equipment ready and be more responsive.”

Hold the phone.

“Are you saying…” Her stomach churned. It would be unspeakably embarrassing if she got this wrong. “This office is, um, for…uh…”

“For you?” Alex made the sweeping gesture and smiled with his full charm. “Yes. This is your office now.”

She wavered on her feet. “What?”

“Unless you would like one of ours,” Jasper said.

No. This was crazy. She collapsed onto the generous couch, her feet unable to hold her up any longer.

The two dragons stepped forward.

“Are you all right?” Jasper asked with concern.

“Yes. No. I don’t understand.” She stared at the holograph. The red planet rotated like a super-sized Mars. “This office is mine? I’m an intern. Why?”

“You married Mal.”

Okay. Error number one. “But, so, why?”

“You’re now the highest-ranked female, so you’re the most important officer in the company.”

“I thought your mom was the matriarch?”

“We’re building her a new office on the next floor. That’s why any structural changes to your office must wait until the weekend.”

“So if she’s still the owner, why am I getting this office?”

“You married Mal.”

Her brain spun so fast, she was getting dizzy. “We’re not actually married yet.”

The two dragons looked at each other.

“Aren’t you?” Jasper frowned. “You signed an application.”

“Right. An application. Dragons aren’t married until after the birth of their first kid.”

The two men relaxed.

“You’re married by local laws.” Alex smiled winningly. “That will satisfy our mother until the dragonlet ceremony.”

“Except we’re still not married.” Since Mal had never given her a ring, she barely felt engaged. “We filled out the marriage application. Did anyone turn it in? We still have to speak our vows in front of an officiant.”

“I’ll check on that.” Alex strode from the office so swiftly, his impeccable gray coat tails flew behind him.

Jasper remained solemn next to her, giving her the space she needed to process in peace.

So if she married Mal, then she would shoot above the CEO? She’d be in charge of this corporation and everything in it? The ground lurched beneath her tennis shoes, and she rested her head on the plush couch. What a nightmare!

There had to be some mistake. She was just an intern. When she graduated next week, she wouldn’t even have this job anymore, which was why she had to find another one. Preferably in a non-Hallmark, non-greeting card company that paid benefits.

Not that she had anything against Hallmark. She loved Hallmark. They touched people’s hearts and made the world a kinder, happier place, but it was way too competitive for her to land a full-time job with them. Everyone knew that. They might buy one of her designs. Maybe. There was no point in hoping for anything more.

But to go from failing to get a job at Hallmark (which, to her mind, she’d already done without ever applying) to running a billionaire-level corporation on an alien planet… Oh God. Her stomach lurched again.

She was going to throw up.

Alex returned to the executive office. “I have scheduled an appointment with a justice of the peace for twelve o’clock today.”

No.

She straightened, swallowed the acid burning the back of her tongue, and croaked out a protest. “I have plans for lunch.”

He turned. “I’ll reschedule.”

Thank God. She actually did have plans, so her protest was even true.

Amber, the fire-breathing female dragon, met Alex in the doorway. “Where are you going?”

“I must reschedule Cheryl’s marriage ceremony.”

Her brows darkened.

The males tensed.

“I thought they were already married,” Amber said.

“There is a ritual portion that must be witnessed by a high-ranking member of human society in order for it to be official.”

Her eyes narrowed. Jasper, standing closest to Cheryl, held his breath.

If Cheryl married Mal, then she would rank above all of them, including Amber. How must they feel about losing their places to her? Amber was quiet, but clearly the most dangerous. The other males flinched whenever she drew near. She breathed actual fire, and Cheryl had seen her large, frightening dragon form. It was all golden-orange claws and scales and deadly incineration.

How must Amber feel at the prospect of some “rando” intern shoving her out of her proper spot?

Amber started speaking. “See that—”

Cheryl surged to her feet. “Stop.”

“—it is done,” Amber finished.

Alex sucked in a breath to squeeze past his older sister.

“Wait. Please.” Cheryl held up her hands, arresting him. “Don’t reschedule. Just cancel the appointment. I don’t want to marry Mal.”

She’d said it. I don’t want to marry Mal. There. They should be happy.

The dragons all stared at her. Horror transfixed the males’ features.

Amber stepped into the office. Her expression was more inscrutable. “You don’t?”

They ought to be happy she wasn’t taking over their places, but whatever. That didn’t change the truth.

Cheryl shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

Alex clenched his manicured hands. His charming smile looked strained. “We will make the appointment at your convenience. Any time is fine. Please reconsider.”

She shook her head.

Jasper also implored her. “Mal is a very worthy male.”

She hugged herself. Mal wasn’t the problem. Obviously.

Jasper frowned at Alex. Amber stood motionless in the middle of the office, neat as usual in a cute, black woolen dress that Cheryl could never wear, yellow tights, and red Mary Janes.

Jasper tried again. “We’ll work hard to fix any shortcomings with us, the business, this office…”

“Or Mal,” Alex added.

Oh, now she was torturing them.

Why did Mal ever propose to her? Why did she ever accept? This was so crazy. Of course it was wrong. And it was all her fault.

She shook her head. “It’s not you.”

Amber stepped forward. “Is it Mal?”

Cheryl shook her head again. With all of them staring at her, the office shot up into boiling temperatures. Saliva pooled in the back of her mouth. She was seriously going to be ill.

“Then what’s the problem?”

She shook her head a third time.

Jasper’s normally steady voice grew an edge. “Whatever it is, we’ll pool our resources and resolve it.”

“Jasper.” Amber’s voice remained conversational appropriate, but a thread of steel jolted the males and even forced Cheryl’s spine straight. “Alex. Leave us.”

The males departed instantly. The door closed.

Amber remained motionless in the middle of the office. Cheryl kept the huge conference table with the spinning Draconis hologram between them. Was Amber about to transform and destroy her as a rival? Amber’s eyes fixed on Cheryl. Like her name, they were a golden-honey color. Their intensity burned like a flame.

“You have worked for us for six months,” Amber said. “Long enough to know us as well as any human. You and I have not spoken often, but you didn’t strike me as the kind of female to state one intention and then change it at will.”

Ah.

Heat flamed Cheryl’s neck and face. Amber was calling her out for saying she’d marry Mal, then changing her mind.

“What is the reason?”

Okay. So awkward. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Is it Mal?”

“No,” Cheryl said.

Amber focused on her with those honey-pale, opaque eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Mal is…Mal.” He was growly and gorgeous and implacable and undefeatable. He was blunt, honest, and easy to love. The only crazy thing was that he somehow seemed to have latched onto her as if he loved her back.

“Then the problem is us?” Amber queried.

Well, yeah, sort of. Cheryl gestured at the giant office and all it stood for. “I can’t work in here. I can’t run a corporation. I can’t be the boss of you all. Of Mal. This office? I just can’t.” She hugged herself. “No way. Fire me. Right now.”

It was so silent, a pin could drop on the roof and it would sound like a gunshot.

“I’d destroy everything,” Cheryl said. “You’d all hate me.”

“That could happen,” Amber told her.

Great. Threats.

“This office was designed for my mother.” The female dragon crossed the floor and stood behind the giant desk. She sat in the executive chair and spread out.

Amber belonged there.

Power radiated from her crackling gold eyes, from her flaming hair, from her presence. “Did you know that on Draconis, only females can run companies?”

No. Cheryl didn’t know that.

“My brothers would have no chance there.” Amber slid her palms across the massive desk. “And I would be forced to occupy this seat. On Earth, my brothers have a chance. On Earth, I have a choice.”

What was Amber saying?

Her gaze fixed on Cheryl. “If my brother marries a female dragon, then she will take this company. She’ll take the money, the accomplishments, the rankings for her own. She could give it to her family and shut ours out. You, Cheryl, would never take these from Mal.”

True. She would never take this company. No. Oh no. Absolutely no.

Cheryl shook her head.

“That is what I thought.” Amber stood and came around the desk. “Mal must marry a human now or return to Draconis and join with a female dragon.”

“What? Why?”

“It is our mother’s decree. She’s the matriarch.”

“That’s not fair.”

Amber didn’t disagree.

Tingling went down Cheryl’s spine, and one memory turned bitter.

So that’s why he’d suddenly proposed to her. It wasn’t that he’d fallen in love. She’d been convenient, available, and obviously in love with him.

God, he’d even asked her all those questions. Was she married already? Was she fertile? Did she want dragonlets? It wasn’t a proposal. She knew it at the time, but the meaning slammed into her doubly hard now. It was a job interview.

But…

He’d taken his time and made love to her tenderly. Thoroughly. And he got so hurt when she wanted to leave. He’d begged her to return. Even today, facing this new emergency, he’d told her to interrupt his work so he could take her home rather than let her go back to her mom’s. His actions said he needed her. And Mal didn’t need anyone.

He was dangerously blunt. Honest to a fault. Vulnerable in his blustery way.

Mal hadn’t chosen her only from self-preservation. He loved the company more than anything, and his siblings next, but Cheryl would bet she came in a close third place.

They’d have to work on the order.

“However, the situation has changed.” Amber continued to watch her carefully. “We made a mistake and can no longer sell our products on Draconis. This launch will be our last opportunity to reach the top of the Outer Planet Rank Listing.”

“Why?” Cheryl asked.

“Our mother gave away our port privileges. Port privileges are required to land products on Draconis.”

“But why?”

“She was angry and hurt. We prioritized the company over her.”

Ah.

Cheryl shifted uneasily on the couch. She’d been angry at Mal for prioritizing the company over her just this morning. But she would never sabotage his business.

“So how will you sell your clothes?” Cheryl asked. “If you can’t sell them on Draconis, will you switch to other planets in the galaxy? Like the Outer Rim where you’re from?”

Amber shook her head. “All products must pass through the capital before being distributed to the rest of the Empire. Our next product will be delayed for years.”

“Years! Then how will the company survive?”

“It won’t.”

It took a second for the meaning to sink in. “So your mom just killed your company.”

Amber nodded.

But…but Mal loved this company more than life. “She can’t do that.”

“She’s the family matriarch. Her orders are law.”

That wasn’t fair! Mal wanted to be number one so badly. The Carnelians were always beating him and now he was about to lose everything.

Wait. “So if I marry Mal, I’ll only have this executive office for another week?”

“Maybe two weeks. We must sell quickly to capitalize on our current assets and ensure we have enough to stay together.”

Oh. Well, for two weeks, Cheryl could certainly—

“And we’ll decide on our new business,” Amber continued. “One that doesn’t rely on shipping. Unless we’re forced to split up as we were before, we’ll create the new company with you as the head executive.”

Ugh. “As long as I’ve married Mal, I have to be the leader of his company?”

“Better you than a female who takes it all for herself. And that’s the best-case scenario. If he marries the wrong female, he may get imprisoned, barred from seeing us, or never work again.”

Conflict raged within Cheryl. Her past and future collided.

On the one side was her familiar, safe intern desk. She was invisible, an afterthought, but able to relax and slack off. She hungered for recognition and love. She daydreamed and didn’t act. She drew secret pictures of Mal’s abs and drooled in a one-sided, secret crush with no future. She was a kid who pretended to be an adult who ran away from any possible responsibility. Even over herself.

On the other side was Mal.

He saw straight into her soul and offered her a way to reach those secret daydreams. He made her secret crush real and returned her desire with quadruple the passion. The executive office was the highest recognition and responsibility. She couldn’t relax. She couldn’t slack off.

Did she want to be an adult who stepped forth into her destiny or a child who ran away and hid from responsibility?

She sucked in a breath, terrified of what she was about to say, and well aware that she couldn’t un-say it. “Can’t I order Mal to run his own company?”

“You must deal with representatives from Draconis.”

“No getting out of it?”

Amber shook her head. “You may force them to recognize Mal as your proxy after you’re married in the dragon way.”

Which meant having a baby dragon and getting recognized by Mal’s mother, which would be at least nine months, even if she’d gotten pregnant on their first try. And she didn’t feel very pregnant right now. She felt scared and sticky and helpless.

“So before the company is sold, we have to launch a number one product.” Cheryl worried the hoodie hem between her fingers. It was Mal’s last chance to beat his ruthless, idea-stealing rivals. “How long do we have?”

“To decide on our next product? Today.”

Oh. Well. Cheryl sat back on the couch again. “That’s impossible.”

“For an all-new product, yes.” Amber sat beside her, clearly intending to work together to resolve this problem. “Now dragons have become accustomed to outfitting their human forms, it’s time to move beyond the staples and introduce variety using the prototypes we’ve already created. Let’s go select the next product together.”

She looked expectantly at Cheryl.

“Mal’s been looking at new products,” Cheryl hedged.

“He believes only he is capable of doing this job.” Amber’s eyes flashed. Some of the dominant female dragon, so frequently suppressed, glowered through. “We must convince him that although he is the CEO, he’s not the only officer. We all care about this company. We all want it to succeed.”

Her speech was stirring.

“And you need me?” She had a lunch appointment. “Are you sure?”

Amber glowed her commanding presence into Cheryl. “You are the most important part.”

“I am?”

“You will convince Mal I’m correct.”

Oh God. “I will?”

“I will show you.” Amber grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Cheryl hurried out to her intern desk. “I’ve got to text somebody real quick about a meeting.”

It sounded like they’d be working through lunch.

Mal listened to a recording of the news he’d missed when he slept through the three a.m. transmission.

“Onyx Corporation rank plummeted today when it was announced their port privileges were donated. In related news, the matriarch of the Onyx family attacked her male escort on a pleasure cruise after it was revealed that he didn’t wish to become her mate. The male was rescued from a life support pod outside the Nebulus Cluster with all his limbs intact.”

It didn’t happen. His brain refused to believe what he was hearing.

Yes, his mother had always liked their uncle, but not as a mate. Right?

Exactly how long had Mal been away from the family estate? And why hadn’t their uncle warned them about the risks when Alex arranged for him to take their mother on the cruise?

Maybe she’d gotten too deep into the aphrodisiac wine and lost her mind.

But knowing how she’d been publicly humiliated—on top of discovering their lies—didn’t undo the consequences.

While Mal had been sleeping in Cheryl’s soft arms, his mother had called a meeting to dismantle the company and summon them home, effective immediately. Only the promise that Mal wasn’t there to hear her decree was because he was actively making dragonlets caused her to relent. She wanted to meet Cheryl, of course. As soon as she returned from the nebula, Mal would take Cheryl to visit.

But it was already too late. His mother had permanently discarded their family port privileges. There was no way to reverse her impulsive decision. The only choice was to go forward.

Mal scratched meaningless lines on his yellow legal notepad, racking his brain for options to keep the company alive.

His mother could put their name on a wait list for the next donated port privilege. Maybe his great-great-grandchildren would be living when the opportunity arose.

The other option was to partner with an aristocrat who had port privileges. Marry an aristocratic female.

Or marry the Empress.

Mal would lose control. The company would be disbanded. The aristocrats would win.

His pen cracked. Ink leaked onto his fingers and stained them black.

He had no time for these thoughts. The future of the company would wait. Right now, only one thing mattered.

Launching the final product.

Since his mother’s actions had caused their stock to plummet, they had to push even harder to get their rank anywhere near the top one hundred, to say nothing of the top one.

It was just… It was just…

Not impossible. He gritted his teeth. It was going to be hard. Good thing he’d already gotten most of a night’s sleep.

He wiped his fingers on a tissue and hit the button to play it again.

A knock sounded on his door.

He paused the recording. His siblings knew not to disturb him during his emergency thinking time.

Mal shouted, “Darcy? In!”

As he’d predicted, the human pushed open the door and entered. “I heard you’ve got to act fast on this launch or it’s curtains for everyone.”

Mal didn’t know about draperies, but the essence of the statement was true.

“Let’s talk strategy.” Darcy strode to the conference table and folded his tall form into his customary seat. “Have you decided on lingerie?”

Mal crossed the office with a snarl. “It’s impractical.”

“It’s sexy.” He grinned. “Think of your blushing bride. Don’t you want to see her in lingerie?”

That was something Mal hadn’t considered. Cheryl clothed in lace and ribbons, blushing shyly on the bed, waiting for him to pounce? His cock declared its readiness for that with a hot pulse.

“I prefer to rip it off her and see her naked,” he said.

“There’s nothing wrong with naked.” Darcy held up his palms in surrender. His devilish smile gleamed. “But isn’t getting there the fun part?”

There were many fun parts. Getting naked was only one of them.

“And dragon females would love to feel sexy for their males, right?” Darcy pushed.

“No.” Mal stalked to the conference table and collapsed in the lead chair with a thump. He’d thought long and hard. “This will never work.”

Jasper and Alex noticed his open door and took their seats at the conference table.

Mal laid out the issues. “Dragon females do not blush. They select their males and act decisively to secure them. If the male is unable to mate, he must flee or risk losing his limbs.”

“Harsh.” Darcy continued to grin blithely, unconcerned about this very real issue. “So if a dragon male wishes to secure his female, how does he let her know?”

Mal looked at Alex and Jasper.

They seemed edgy and didn’t meet his gaze.

Well, it was a difficult question. Pyro would be able to answer. None of the rest of them had much experience with dragon females.

“I would hang out in the area,” Mal declared. “Remain in proximity so when the female reached her peak of lust, I could position myself to be the recipient of her hormone spray.”

“Sounds sexy.” He rested his chin on his fist. “Or you could give her lingerie. As a token of your interest.”

The idea wasn’t without merit. If a female had to wait for a male to gift her with lingerie, Mal’s family would still have their port privileges and his mother would still be on a cruise with their uncle. They could save everyone grief (and body parts).

However, it was still impossible. “We don’t have time to start a tradition. If we must train our customers on why they want our products, we’ve already lost.”

He looked to Alex and Jasper for agreement.

They both avoided his gaze.

“Right?” he pushed.

Darcy answered him. “Okay, do you have any better ideas?”

They all remained silent.

Mal pinched his brow. He’d been so busy last night tending to Cheryl that he hadn’t continued his research. “No.”

“You should see a few lingerie models before you decide.”

“Models are Pyro’s business.”

“I meant female dragon lingerie models.” Darcy leaned back in his seat. “I had some favorite outfits brought over. Where’s Amber?”

“In the warehouse.” Jasper rose hurriedly. “I’ll request her presence.”

“I’ll get the outfits.” Darcy left Mal’s office.

Jasper glanced at Alex and backed out of the office as though escaping.

Alex shifted.

Mal released his brow and stood. “Do we know where Pyro is?”

“Thailand, in prison. We negotiated his release, but he says he prefers to spend his last days there. He finds it restful. Shall Kyan go recall him?”

“He can brainstorm in the prison. Where’s Cheryl?”

Alex examined his smooth fingernails. “In the warehouse.”

“With Amber?” Hmm. Amber had requested to see Cheryl personally. Mal had assumed Amber wished to confirm her well-being, but now it seemed like something more. His hackles rose. “What are they doing?”

“Talking.” He cleared his throat and drummed his fingers on his knee. “I believe.”

Amber wasn’t much of a talker, and neither was Cheryl.

Why was Alex acting so strangely? He was smooth and sophisticated. His exotic coloration intrigued humans and charmed dragons. He never fidgeted.

“Talking about what?” Mal asked.

Alex sucked in a breath and cringed. “About—”

“Mal.” Kyan’s soft, commanding voice issued from the intercom in the center of the conference table.

Alex froze.

Mal dove to answer. Kyan called for only a few reasons, most of them deadly. Mal depressed the response key. “What?”

“There’s someone odd waiting in our building lobby.”

“Odd how?”

“He wouldn’t give his name to Jeanine even after she threatened for me to throw him out of the building. I recognized him, but I don’t think he’s seen me yet.”

Kyan’s tone implied it was the last person they’d expect. Their mother was still in the Outer Rim. Their siblings were all accounted for. Their father was dead.

“Who is it?” Mal demanded.

“The CEO of our rivals,” Kyan said. His last-person-anyone-would-expect assessment was accurate. “Sard Carnelian.”

Amber dragged Cheryl through the stuffy, dim warehouse, which comprised two lower floors of the office building, like an eager girlfriend going on a shopping expedition.

Cheryl hated shopping.

But she was starting to like Amber. The quiet female dragon wasn’t scary so much as she was shy like Cheryl and reserved her words for important observations rather than meaningless chatter.

The warehouse was laid out like a confused department store. The old, rejected prototypes remained as though on display, pinned to lint-dotted boards or hung on dusty mannequins.

“I go through them occasionally.” Amber stroked a little black dress with buckles up the slitted sides. “Some of my favorites didn’t make the final cut.”

“You’d look great in that,” Cheryl said. Amber was petite and slender, and the little black dress would hang on her as it would a fashion model. “I’d look terrible.”

“That’s why it’s still in the warehouse.” Amber put it away like a regretful impulse purchase, something she loved but knew she’d never have a chance to wear. “In human form, I’m small. Most dragon females are your size or larger. We must choose a product that looks attractive on your body.”

Oh. “I thought you wanted to launch a popular outfit.”

“It is our mission,” Amber said firmly, not appearing to realize the two wishes were opposite.

They passed row after row of outfits. Togas, kimonos, ponchos, dresses. Maybe Cheryl would look great in them. Maybe they’d all look terrible. Fabrics blurred as they moved from one cubicle to another, and Amber reverently held up each item, as enthusiastic about each as she had been fifty items ago. She was built for this.

After ten minutes, Cheryl wanted to rip her own eyeballs out.

“How do you feel about this?” Amber placed a maxi tube dress against Cheryl’s chest. “It will show off ample curves.”

“Ugh.”

“So, no.” Amber put it back, selected a sausage-tight mermaid sheath, and held the neon-green sequins up to Cheryl’s face. “How do you feel about this?”

God, please make the torture stop.

Cheryl rejected it with a head shake and forestalled Amber before she tried anything else on the too-tight-too-loud nightclub rack. “The only clothes I like are what I’m already wearing. So why do you keep asking how I feel?”

“Because we’ve already sold many outfits that give dragons the feeling of comfort.” Amber moved to the next rack. “I think we should move boldly and select outfits that give a different feeling.”

“Like discomfort?” Cheryl touched slinky leather pants.

“If it causes a stronger feeling, then yes. Even discomfort can be powerful.”

They stalked the aisles, and the stuffiness of the costumes got to Cheryl again. “I’m supposed to meet someone.” She was supposed to be outside, breathing freely in the parking lot, and signing a print for the mysterious DragonLord C.

“Pick an attractive outfit first.”

Gah.

There were a million other things she’d rather be doing right now, including working on her portfolio so she could knock the socks off employers and get a passing grade—and maybe an offer of permanent employment.

But Amber was certain Cheryl needed to choose. And this was for Mal. His last chance for a number one ranking rested on today’s decision. She carried on, fighting her irritation, touching outfits that meant nothing to her, and shaking her head at everything Amber wanted her to try on.

“So everything you wear gives you some feeling?” Cheryl asked finally in frustration.

“Yes.” Amber held up a coconut bra.

Cheryl snorted and moved on. “No to the grass skirt also.”

Amber put it back, her lips pursing as though in disappointment.

“Even your current outfit?” Cheryl pressed.

Amber looked down at her conservative dress and bright tights. She hesitated a long time, but eventually, she said, “Yes. It helps me feel quiet.”

Huh. If Amber got any quieter, she was going to become mute. “You want to be quiet?”

“When I remain quiet, I can live as I wish.”

That was a weird way to answer. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t want to take over.” Her golden eyes crackled, and her red hair flared with the fiery power contained within her small body. “I want my brothers to have a chance to shine. And why must I rule simply because I’m female? Mal can shout and growl all he wants, but a single wrong comment from me sends everyone into a panic. I don’t want that. I remain quiet so I can choose my own destiny.”

So Amber dressed to suppress. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

And how was Cheryl any different? She dressed in hoodies, jeans, and T-shirts because she could blend into the landscape. Nobody noticed a wallflower.

Nobody except Mal.

His notice had shone down on her like a ray of sunshine, changing her life forever.

She’d had time to come to terms with the marriage decree. He still could have married anyone. Whether it was closeness or consciousness of her crush, he’d selected her, and she certainly hadn’t been trying to get his attention.

No, if she’d been trying to get his attention, she’d have worn something revealing. Something like…

She paused in front of the Daisy Dukes, short-shorts, and hot pants display. God, they would look awful on her.

But a little farther on, she found form-flattering pencil skirts. Wide, shiny belts gave a thick girl a waist. Bustiers lifted and separated, and cheery gingham with sweetheart necklines squeezed the girls and gave a man a view down the keyhole neckline to remember.

Amber returned to her side. “Our vintage pinup line? Could you see yourself wearing something this?”

Well, if Cheryl had real confidence, then yeah. She’d ditch the hoodie for a flattering sailor suit or rock out in a lipstick-red housewife dress decorated with lacy black inserts. Those pinups had it all.

Modern women who dared to don tall socks, short plaid skirts, sparkling rhinestones, or long black gauntlets had confidence. They didn’t care what their professor or classmates thought. They swung their hips unapologetically through life and earned respect.

She shook herself back to reality. “I’d never be able to pull it off.”

“It’s not too different from your current look.”

“Ha.”

“We shorten the jeans and switch out your T-shirt.” She held up capris and a tight rockabilly shirt against Cheryl’s chest. “I’m sure we can fit you.”

Cheryl salivated. Who would know? Well, except Amber and Mal. “It’s not my thing.”

“Think of all the dragons you’re saving from lace teddies.”

“Lace teddies?”

“Darcy thinks lingerie will make female dragons feel beautiful.” Amber picked out shoes and a purse. “He wants us to introduce them as love gifts.”

Well, he would think that. He was a man. “He probably just wants to see someone model them.”

Amber hesitated. Then she shook herself and switched out the capris for a skirt. “Well, I think the market for love gifts is volatile. Looking beautiful to yourself is more important.”

“It would be more decent to wear in public.”

“Yes. Publicity is how we get most of our sales.” Amber stacked outfits until they were towering in her arms. “One aristocrat models something new, and then everyone else has to have it.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Does it?” She tilted her head. “This is all new to us.”

“What? How’s that possible?”

“Dragons value only that which is functional. We never used to shift. In childhood, I saw human form perhaps once or twice when my peers were practicing, just to prove they could.”

She smiled at the outfits.

“But human form has revealed a new side to us. An ability to see beyond function to beauty. Discovering a fabric or jewel that takes hold of us with an uncontrollable craving… Possessing this kind of happiness has awakened a sleeping part of our souls.”

Wow. Amber made being human sound kind of cool.

“So quick, put these on.” Amber shoved the whole overwhelming pile on Cheryl.

Excitement mixed with trepidation. It would be fun to play dress-up. But agreeing to do one simple thing for dragons spiraled into complications fast. “Why?”

“We need to model the outfits to convince my brothers which is the best one.”

Oh, no. Mal, maybe. It made her tingly to imagine him seeing her. But the rest of them…ugh. “Absolutely not. And I’m late for meeting somebody.”

“Cheryl, I understand your reticence, but the future of our company depends on you.” Amber fixed her with blazing golden eyes that glimmered like deadly twin flames. “Now strip.”

Sard Carnelian’s visit could not be a coincidence.

Mal’s rival came on the day their company lost port privileges and would be dismantled? Rage burned in his veins as Kyan’s announcement silenced the office.

Mal wheeled to Alex. “Summon Pyro.”

Alex jumped to his feet and raced for the elevator shaft, shredding his clothes and ditching his humanity to streak as a lavender-turquoise dragon across the sky faster than a rocket.

“Give Alex twenty minutes,” Mal told Kyan over the intercom. “Then bring our surprise guest up.”

Kyan assented and closed the connection.

Sard Carnelian. Mal couldn’t believe it.

Despite traveling half the world twice, Alex was back in fifteen minutes, puffing behind an enraged Pyro. Even that small amount of time gave Mal plenty of opportunity to consider how to face his opponent. Dragons didn’t usually dance on the graves of the fallen. So what, exactly, was the purpose of his visit?

Pyro had no doubts.

“He came to sneer.” Pyro buttoned the suit Mal had brought in over his inches of tattoos, covering his newly tanned skin with silk elegance. “Just like at the Academy. He’s a cursed aristocrat, and we’re Outer Rim trash.”

Mal grinned at his nearest sibling. “Then I hope you put him in his place.”

“I’ll punch him so hard, he won’t be able to stand up straight.”

As the next oldest, Pyro had endured the same adolescent aggressions as Mal, the struggle to find their places between worlds, the cold indifference of the adults, the outright torture by their peers. Pyro had the added burden of his namesake. Pyrochlore was radioactive, and most dragons treated him as if he were the same.

By the time the later siblings arrived, their family’s notoriety had faded. Instead of being famous as the disgraced dragonlets of a fallen aristocrat and a brimstone miner, the others were no-name Outer Rim dragonlets with no chance of ascension.

“Sard could be offering to help.” Alex zipped up a new pair of gray trousers and slid his feet into crisp leather loafers. “We are the only other clothier, and we’re far from Draconis.”

“All the more reason to kick us while we’re down.” Pyro flipped his collar and adjusted his image in Mal’s small mirror. Deadly gold threads in his brown eyes gleamed in anticipation of violence.

Mal contacted Kyan to bring Sard Carnelian up.

The trio waited in the conference room. Jasper arrived, out of breath.

“Where’s Amber?” Mal demanded.

Jasper shook his head. “She wouldn’t be rushed.”

“What could be more important?”

Pyro patted his back, silently promising they didn’t need a dominant female to fight their battles. Although Sard Carnelian was the heavyweight CEO of their biggest rival and a member of the Draconis aristocracy, Pyro would have no problem pounding him into the carpet.

Or attempting it. The human elevator dinged, and they all watched the hall as Kyan escorted the rival CEO. Kyan’s battle scars and large, silent figure made him their most imposing sibling, but the male striding ahead of him was twice his weight and had four times his charisma.

Sard Carnelian.

A growl threatened in Mal’s throat.

The aristocrat’s steel-toed boots thudded. His huge thighs stretched his weathered jeans. His fists, swinging arrogantly at his sides, could drive through a steel wall. His casual button-down shirt encircled a massive chest.

His head swiveled. Silver piercings declared his rank and historic achievements. And his teeth, when he caught sight of Mal and flashed them, gleamed with silver, advertising his wealth.

The other male towered over Mal. Curse his pure Draconian blood.

He strode through the gauntlet of Onyx males and boldly claimed a seat in the back corner of the conference room, farthest from any exits. He sat and stared at them as though they were the ones who had the gall to bring him into the room. Confident bastard.

Mal steeled himself. “Sard Carnelian. How unexpected to see you today.”

“Malachite Onyx.” The aristocrat’s eyes gleamed a pure demonic red. “Same.”

That seemed unlikely.

Mal waited.

Sard folded his hands and rested them on his knees. The picture of patience. Waiting for Mal to crack and reveal…what? Some weakness beside what the aristocrat already knew?

Forget this game, whatever it was. Mal leaned forward and tapped his fist on the conference table. “What do you want with us?”

Sard’s fingers tightened. “Nothing.”

“You want nothing from us?” That made no sense. “Nothing at all?”

The male’s smile remained fixed as he shook his head. “Not a single thing.”

“Like hell.” Pyro stormed forward, blazing at the interloper with compressed fury. “You were in our lobby.”

His eyes flashed. “I had an appointment.”

Appointment?

“Liar!” Pyro’s neck bulged as though he were fighting not to go into dragon. His teeth elongated, and he snarled.

Mal gripped his shoulder to prevent him from leaping on the ballsy aristocrat. “With one of us?”

Sard shook his head, his confident smile like a shield.

“You came to the Onyx Corporation lobby to meet with someone who is not an Onyx?”

Sard spoke through gritted teeth. “Correct.”

“Then…” What the—? Darcy? “Who?”

“If you haven’t figured that out, I don’t feel any need to tell you.”

Pyro quivered under Mal’s repressing grip. He wanted to rip out the aristocrat’s throat.

Mal glanced at Kyan. The huge security chief never removed his colorless eyes from the threat, but he subtly shook his head. He hadn’t seen anyone meet with the rival CEO. Who planned a secret meeting in the Onyx Corporation lobby? No. That defied logic.

“You’re making fun of us,” Pyro spat, giving voice to what they all believed.

Sard lifted his brows and shrugged one shoulder. “Must be.”

“Admit it!” He shoved Mal’s hand off and slammed his palms on the table. A crack zagged down the middle toward the rival. Sard jumped just like the rest of them. “You’re here to sneer. To witness our dismantlement.”

Sard’s voice was quiet and clear. “My condolences.”

Pyro’s rage brooked no sympathy. “One less competitor. Aren’t you thrilled?”

Although it was clearly unwise, Sard snorted.

Pyro’s eyes widened. The gold lines glowed radioactively, and scales zagged down his arms, slicing his suit. He sucked in a breath. “You think that’s funny?”

Sard stopped smiling. “Yeah. I do.”

The cords on Pyro’s neck emerged in stark relief.

Kyan turned and dropped one shoulder. He’d fly into Pyro as a sideways tackle should Pyro lose all control and attack the giant heavyweight CEO. In a fight like that, Pyro had the advantage of his rage, but he was still a relatively small dragon. The heavyweight could crush him with his mass, and it would be a bloody, arduous fight.

Pyro gathered himself.

Mal stepped in front of Pyro and put his arm out to stop the attack. “Why?”

Pyro pushed against his arm but obeyed.

Sard sucked in a breath and let it out. He shifted his bulk on the chair, released his fingers as though he’d been pinching them to death, and scratched at his pierced brow.

Mal waited.

The other male finally locked on him. Mal held the room, and he ruled his siblings, even the uncontrollable Pyrochlore. That seemed to earn the Carnelian CEO’s respect.

“Because you’re not my competition,” he said.

The others started.

Pyro snarled, his dragon tail splitting his dress pants and flicking in rage. “You arrogant ass!”

Sard glared at Pyro. “No. A tiny startup corporation run by unrecognized Outer Rim bastards who happened to stumble upon the same mother lode of a planet, yet with no idea of how to maximize their find, is not my competition.”

“We were second in the Outer Planet Rank Listing,” Jasper protested over Pyro’s growl, unable to keep this fact quiet.

“Not anymore.”

“We will be again.” Mal threw down the gauntlet. “And we’ll beat you for the number one spot. I vow it.”

“Go ahead and try.”

It was maddening, but Mal couldn’t fault the other male for his disbelief. The only choice was to get rid of all distractions, bury himself in work, and force his declaration to come true.

“Why are you so confident we won’t beat you?” Jasper asked.

“Because you don’t recognize what’s right in front of you. And if you don’t recognize the assets you do have, someone else is going to reach out and snap them up.”

He made a grabbing motion, collecting something out of thin air. His lip quirked to the side, a proud half smile at having gotten one over on them.

“Speak clearly,” Mal ordered. “What assets?”

“It’s not my job to point out the obvious.”

Pyro growled. “He said to speak clearly, you ass!”

Sard ignored him, holding Mal’s gaze. He had spoken clearly. It was up to Mal to puzzle it out.

What asset was he talking about? Mal was one of seven siblings. Sard was an aristocrat. Yet here he was, like them, forced to do business on a far distant planet. Were Mal’s siblings the asset? Or Amber? What was it?

Sard’s ear clips buzzed. He touched the black plastic and listened.

A voice was just audible to Mal’s superior hearing. “I have the item, boss.”

“You have it? Very good.” Sard ended his call and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another number one product to launch.”

Curse him and his thievery.

“The pajamas were our product,” Alex said, not moving out of Sard’s way to the exit. “We researched and tested them.”

“Then you shouldn’t have hesitated to launch first.” Sard pushed for the door.

Mal checked him with his shoulder, stopping the demonic heavyweight male cold. “We’ll beat you. Have no doubt. These ‘Outer Rim bastards’ will bring you down and dance on your number one slot.”

Sard’s red eyes gleamed. “I don’t care if you’re number one or number one hundred. Do you get that? Your position means nothing to me.” His gaze flicked over Mal’s siblings and returned to him. His voice lowered to a knife’s edge. “Do you think you’re the only male with something to prove?”

Do you think you’re the only male with something to prove?

The question echoed in Mal’s ears with a powerful force.

The reason Sard didn’t consider the Onyx family his competition was because he had something to prove to someone else. Sard didn’t have his sights set on the Outer Planet Rank List, but was focused on some other measure of success. He knew Mal’s frustration.

What was his goal, and what did it have to do with the “appointment” he had in the Onyx Corporation lobby or the “item” his underling had just called that he’d received?

Sard held Mal’s gaze, CEO to CEO, dominant male to dominant male. And then, when he was certain they’d communicated, he tore his gaze away and forced his way out the office door.

Kyan ghosted after him, a silent and deadly giant. The elevator dinged open, the heavyweight disappeared, and the atmosphere lightened.

Seconds passed into minutes.

“That male needs to fall into a volcano.” Pyro stepped out of his ripped dress pants and exchanged them for new ones that didn’t have a giant tail hole coming out the butt. “He doesn’t care what number we are? What a lie!”

Jasper and Alex nodded in agreement.

Mal disagreed, but he held back his thoughts.

“Yes, he’s only hanging on to his lead by stealing our best ideas,” Jasper said.

“And improving them,” Alex said. “I’ve conducted additional research. I believe I know how he’s doing this.”

“Yeah?” Pyro zipped his trousers. All the dragons had a closet of spare outfits in their offices. “Spit it out.”

“You’re beginning to sound more and more like the humans,” Alex told him.

“I spend a lot of time with them. But what’s your conclusion?”

“For the last three product launches, the Carnelian Corporation has sold their products with secondary items.”

“Free gifts with purchase?” Jasper rubbed his mouth. “That’s expensive.”

“But effective. The secondary items have become collectibles.”

Usually, companies distributed a consumable. The Onyx Corporation had launched their blue jeans with a bar of chocolate, which had been popular, but their freighter had traveled too close to a sun and ruined half a shipment. Also, some people had eaten the chocolate and returned the jeans. It was a risk, after all.

“So why didn’t the customers return the product and keep the secondary item?” Jasper asked.

“The Carnelians required the collectible to be returned for the refund.”

“And they still managed to make sales?”

“Very good sales.” Obviously. Ones the Onyx Corporation would struggle to match.

“What were they distributing?” Pyro straightened his collar and cuffs. “Free sex?”

“Small cards.” Alex made a square shape with his fingers. “With a picture on one side and a phrase on the opposite. Dragons are purchasing the products, venerating the collectible, and even framing them.”

Huh. “Like a greeting card?” Mal asked.

Alex nodded.

“We have an artist,” Jasper said. “We can distribute our own greeting cards.”

Yes.

“First, we have to select a product.” Mal sat in his chair behind his desk again.

No more distractions.

No more thinking about Cheryl. No more obsessing about what she was doing. No more wanting to call her into his office, alone, to smear her scent on him as he pounded his release into her and branded her for all other males to stay away.

Enjoying her gentleness, her bright eyes, and her smile were luxuries he couldn’t allow himself.

Once they reached number one, he would reward himself with her again.

What secret asset did Sard Carnelian know he had?

He stated that to the other dragons. “Nothing matters more than settling on our final best-selling, number one product to launch.”

“That, and finding another woman to marry you,” Jasper said.

Alex froze.

Mal leaned forward. “What did you just say?”

The office dropped deathly quiet. Pyro glanced up from his grooming.

Jasper’s eyes widened. He turned to Alex. “I thought you told him.”

Alex’s nostrils flared. “There wasn’t time.”

“Tell me what?”

Jasper steadied himself and spoke plainly. “You need to find a new wife, Mal.”

Fear spiked into his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

Cheryl didn’t want to marry him. She realized he would never reach number one. He would be worthless once his company was sold and he had nothing again. She had no reason to stay with him.

Denial flushed into rage. Mal shot from his chair and slammed his fists into the mahogany desk. “I’m marrying Cheryl!”

Alex shut his lips tight. Jasper squared his shoulders.

“Congratulations.” Pyro ambled out the door and disappeared down the hall.

Mal fixed on Alex. He’d heard wrong. They’d already been through this. His second-youngest sibling was in error. “You made the appointment with the justice of the peace.”

Alex swallowed, white. Then, fighting his grimace, he spoke the words Mal most feared. “She changed her mind.”

Fifteen minutes earlier…

Cheryl concentrated on crossing the smooth, even carpet from the warehouse dressing rooms into the elevator in her new dark red stripper heels.

Well, okay, they weren’t that tall. But for a woman who wore tennis shoes, even a tiny heel felt like walking on toothpicks.

They were also terrible to run in, as she’d discovered when she’d escaped from Amber moments ago. Now, as the elevator doors opened, she raced to the front lobby and found…

No one.

Crud. She’d taken too long and missed DragonLord C. Well, she was ten minutes late. Of course he wouldn’t have waited. Nobody wanted her signed print that badly.

Jeanine looked up. “There’s a new look.”

“Thanks.” Cheryl hugged herself. Jeanine hadn’t called it a good look, just new. “Did anyone ask for me?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, thanks—”

“There’s someone in the parking lot who hasn’t come inside yet.”

Cheryl pushed open the glass doors and crossed the parking lot, passing the cars she knew. Wind blew her hair around her face. At the end of the lot, a tall man in a dark suit stared up at the roof of the office building as though studying how to assault it. Expensive sunglasses shaded his eyes, and wireless black earbuds rested in his ears.

She sucked in a breath. “DragonLord C?”

He turned. A cold expression masked his face. “I am Syen.”

“Simon?”

He remained silent for a moment. She’d gotten his name wrong, but she wasn’t sure how, and he didn’t correct her or change expressions.

Embarrassment heated her in a wave. “So, you’re not DragonLord C?”

“No.”

Oh God, she was walking up to random strangers in this vintage rockabilly outfit, looking and acting completely unlike herself. “Sorry, I—”

“He’s my boss.” The implacable man removed a small folder from his suit. Inside was a greeting-card-sized print of chibi Mal in silk pajamas. “Please sign.”

Her heart thumped in her ears. She uncapped his pen, balanced the folder on his hands, and scrawled her name. Her fan had an employee collect her signature! He must be a businessman with no free time, like Mal.

She handed the pen back, wished him well, and hurried back inside.

“Was that your person?” Jeanine asked.

Cheryl nodded and ran for the elevator. Amber was probably already at Mal’s office, wondering where she was.

The elevator was in use, so Cheryl ducked into the reception bathroom and checked her hair. Not bad. She smoothed her vintage T-shirt. With these clothes on, signing autographs, she almost felt like a rock star.

When she came out again, the elevator was standing open. Lucky! She ducked inside and turned around. As the doors closed, she saw Kyan, the scariest dragon, was escorting a stranger outside.

Huh.

The elevator ascended to her floor, and she stepped out.

Pyro, Mal’s closest brother, was walking down the hall in her direction. “Hey, Cheryl.”

“Hey,” she said. “You’re back.”

“Just got in.”

“Welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He lifted his shirt and scratched his abs. “Feels weird. A lot of stuff has changed.”

Pyro was one of the few model-hot dragons who didn’t tie her tongue in knots. Jasper and Alex were attentive, gorgeous, and made her uneasy. Towering Kyan was simply terrifying. But Pyro was like the hot cousin who didn’t notice she was female. On his scale of hot-or-not, she’d fallen off the bottom. And that was okay. Really.

Take now, for instance. She was wearing a new curve-hugging outfit and heels that would ordinarily make her want to crawl under a rock.

Pyro barely glanced at her.

“How was prison?” she asked.

“Relaxing.” He yawned. “I caught up on some sleep.”

“Only you would think a Thai prison was relaxing.”

Amber had told her all about Pyro’s night out while they were getting ready in the warehouse. It had involved strippers, smuggling, and lighting a nightclub on fire.

But he was still a good person. Er, dragon. Whatever.

“Nah.” He gave a lopsided grin. And he had dimples. He was a bad girl’s wet dream. “You should try it.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll get right on breaking the law. Hey, did you hear I’m supposed to be the head of the company or something?”

“I heard that.” His brows lifted sympathetically. “Sucks to be you.”

“I know!” Finally, someone else got it. Pyro had no wish to take on added responsibilities either. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

The elevator binged, and Amber stepped out into the hall. Pyro tensed. She passed them and moved quietly to Mal’s office doorway. Pyro relaxed and rubbed his shoulder. “Well, I better get a move on.”

“Yeah.”

Huh.

Cheryl used to think Amber’s quietness was cold or dangerous. But all the guys tensed whenever she was around. Pyro just now. Jasper and Alex earlier. And Pyro wasn’t afraid of anything.

Amber was trying so hard to live quietly. She hadn’t been lying. Every word she spoke hugely affected those around her. It seemed lonely.

Amber motioned to Cheryl to join her at Mal’s office.

Okay. This was it.

Cheryl turned. Her heels scuffed the carpet, and her ankles wobbled. She lurched.

Pyro caught her.

She held on for dear life.

“Careful.” He gripped her forearm in his steady palm. He smelled like sunlight, and his yellow-brown eyes gleamed with the hint of bad boy. “Those stilts are deadly.”

Her cheeks heated. He was so good-looking.

She straightened. “Yeah.”

Pyro released her and ambled down the hall to his office.

“Where is she?” Mal roared from inside his office. “Cheryl?”

Well, it was nice to be missed.

And was Mal roaring at Amber? He was the only one who had ever pushed his sister to the point of breathing fire. Maybe it meant more than his bluntness. Maybe insulting his sibling to the point of fury was his way of treating Amber like one of the gang.

Cheryl had learned a lot about her future in-laws in a short time today.

“Find her!” Mal roared.

“You’re so impatient,” Amber said. “She’s right here.”

Cheryl wobbled into Mal’s office.

Mal paced by his desk. He came to a stop. His casual jacket was open and his powerful frame oriented to her. His green eyes glowed like embers. “You will marry me.”

She stopped. He was still going on about that? “I already agreed.”

“Alex said you changed your mind.”

“I don’t want that huge office.”

His brows drew together. “Who said you had to?”

Well. That was a relief.

Alex jostled Jasper and Amber to escape into the hall. “I will set the new appointment with the justice of the peace.”

Mal ignored him. He ignored all of them. He seemed unable to take his eyes off her. “Something about you is different.”

He noticed.

His gaze dropped to her sinful red heels and headed up. Up the curve of her rockabilly capris to the tight, braless T-shirt where she could feel her nipples pushing out. Amber had applied luscious red nail polish and matching scarlet lipstick. Her hair, which she usually left down to hide her face, Amber had curled and pulled back into a yellow kerchief.

For the second time in two days, Cheryl felt new. Remade.

And the growing intensity of Mal’s growl as his gaze stroked her cemented the feeling. Mal stepped closer, inspecting her. “Something is very different.”

Amber cleared her throat.

Right.

Cheryl put one hand on her hip like she’d seen in a vintage print. The woman in that print had looked like she could do anything. Maybe Cheryl could too.

The future of the company was on the line.

Cheryl posed like a pinup model because it gave her the extra boost she needed to sell her idea. She hadn’t talked Mal out of the cutesy logo. But maybe if she were as confident as the models in the vintage art prints, she could talk him into making these outfits his last product launch.

Amber had faith in her.

Cheryl did think pinup outfits were better than lingerie. “We have a, uh, proposal.”

Mal circled around so he was standing behind her. His breath made her skin prickle with awareness. His predatory stroll said he was going to take her now, in this office, and fulfill another of her fantasies.

“I’m listening.”

“We think you should use these outfits.” She indicated hers and two more draped over Amber’s arms. “For the launch.”

He continued around her to her other side. “What outfits?”

“The one I’m wearing.”

“You’re wearing?” His eyes narrowed and chin lifted. “You’re wearing the vintage line.”

Had it taken him that long to figure out she wasn’t in her usual hoodie and jeans? “Yes.”

He lifted her hand from her hip and slid his hot thumb up her sensitive inner arm. His touch lit her on fire. She swayed into him.

He palmed her waist. “It wasn’t as popular with test audiences.”

“Now is the time to try again,” Amber said from the doorway.

Mal’s jacket caressed Cheryl’s bare arm. His trousers rubbed against her hip. “I don’t like it.”

“Why not?”

He growled. “It’s distracting.”

“That’s okay.”

“It’s bad.” His burning eyes, his hot hand sliding up her spine, and his breath-stealing intensity made his words into lies.

“I think it’s good,” Amber said. “And so does Cheryl.”

He leaned in and took a deep breath as though inhaling Cheryl’s perfume. His rough cheek grazed her jaw. Anticipation tingled in her center. She breathed his masculine scent.

His quiet words were for her ears alone. “You’re not bare, but I feel you revealing yourself to me as if you are.”

“Oh?” Cheryl wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Is that normal?”

“It’s intriguing.” He narrowed his eyes. “And distracting.”

That was the second time he’d called her distracting.

Amber piped up. “It’s her clothes.”

Her clothes made her seem bare? Panic shot up a warning. This wasn’t her usual outfit, and she was sticking it all out there, and he didn’t like it. When they put it like that… She tried to cover her T-shirt-clad belly.

He caught her hand and growled low. “Do not hide yourself.”

She swallowed. It was impossible to obey.

He tightened his grip, molding her to his implacable body. His heartbeat steadied her but the panic remained.

He snapped at the rest of them. “All of you, out!”

“Mal, the outfits—”

“Now!”

The rest fled. Amber stood her ground. “I intend to test these for our next launch.”

“Do what you want!”

Her eyes flashed. She held the outfits to her chest and turned on her Mary Janes. “I will.”

Mal backed Cheryl against the conference table. His powerful leg slid between her damp thighs. “Close the door behind you.”

Amber obeyed as she departed. The door closed them in with a private click.

Cheryl clung to Mal.

“You’ve hidden from me until now.” His thick hardness pressed against her and his green gaze gleamed with hunger. He captured her hand and sucked on her fingers. A shudder washed through her. He nibbled up her wrist. “All of you is different. I’ve never seen you like this.”

His rough hunger brought her body to aching awareness. “It’s just nail polish.”

“No. It’s more than coloration of your nails or changing your hair.”

“Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He growled into her neck. “I don’t know this Cheryl. She’s intoxicating.”

She tried to catch her breath. Being with him sucked out all the oxygen, and her sex throbbed. “I’m here.”

“Show yourself.”

She swallowed. He was always saying this, but if he felt like she was bare when she was wearing the pinup outfit, it seemed deeper than getting naked. It seemed like what he meant was that he wanted her to be confident.

Then she needed his help.

“Tell me I’m beautiful,” she whispered.

“You are.” His honesty burned into her. The green shimmer of scales appeared on his skin and faded again.

“Tell me you want me.”

“Only you.” The shimmers reappeared, as though speaking to her this honestly made him lose control of his humanity and unleashed his beast.

She stroked the color. The scales felt like human skin despite the scale pattern. Did she have the power to make him lose control? Thinking so made her bold. As before, she made the demand. “Show yourself to me.”

He growled, stepped away from her, and braced himself. The business suit shredded, and pieces of expensive silk fluttered to the floor.

His body shimmered, iridescent green, like a shapeshifter or an illusionist. A green Wolverine, an X-Man who, despite his alien characteristics, was still human. Then he transformed.

Muscles bulged into being. Miles of them, hard and powerful as a bodybuilder, wrapping around his torso and flexing his thick arms and legs.

A tail emerged from his tailbone with a triangular tip and whipped like the tail of a green devil. His teeth sharpened, white and carnivorous, behind thinning lips. His hair slid to a dark tuft at the nape of his neck as his head elongated into a long dragon snout.

He dropped to all fours. His fingers and toes stretched into claws, and his shoulder crested hers. His head brushed the ceiling. When he’d transformed before, he’d been much smaller, more human-sized. Now, he was much larger and looked like a dragon from the movies.

“What about your wings?” she asked.

He hesitated.

Didn’t he want to show her the final form? Or was there not enough room? She leaned back on the conference table.

It shrieked and collapsed.

He whooshed back to human form and dove to her side, catching and cradling her before she crashed into the ground too.

She gazed up into the familiar bronzed human face, the normal supermodel-perfect teeth and dark, brooding brow of her future husband.

He stroked her handkerchief-covered waves. “You’re okay?”

She nodded. Ugh. “I guess it’s time to lose weight.”

“Pyro damaged the table during our conference with Sard Carnelian.” He gritted his teeth.

Whoa. “He came here?”

Mal knelt and lifted her onto his naked lap so she straddled his right thigh. His powerful erection pressed against her belly. “I don’t wish to speak of him now.”

The hardness convinced her of what he did want.

And she wanted it too.

Mal dipped his head and claimed her lips. She met him with an open, welcoming mouth. He thrust his tongue in and out, dominating her with desire. Her sex throbbed. She squeezed his thigh, rhythmically teasing herself.

He stripped her T-shirt over her head, baring her breasts to his eager hands and hot, wet mouth. Pleasure burst from his kisses, and the throbbing ache intensified. He tore off her denim capris and she kicked off the shreds and her underwear until she was as naked as he was.

Although she couldn’t have imagined it the last time she was in this office, now she relished being naked with him.

He paused and drank in the sight of her. Under his dark, possessive gaze, she felt powerful, the way she had when she’d walked in wearing the pinup clothes, and stunned him. A streak of her lipstick had smeared across Mal’s chest like war paint. He was a warrior, and he loved her fiercely.

She positioned herself to accept his hard cock.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. The thick tip dipped into her wetness. “Cheryl.”

He felt like heaven. Her sex shuddered in anticipation.

She guided his cock in, already feeling like an expert even though it was only their second time. He gripped her waist in one hand and palmed her breast with the other, stroking her soft and sweet, closing in on her climax. His bunched muscle ground against her swollen nub, and his cock stroked her wet channel. His shaft root brought her bubbly pleasure every time he rocked against her mons, and his thick head pummeled her aching sweet spot.

Her pleasure mounted. He possessed her, owned her, loved her. And she loved him.

He growled and bit her shoulder, his own control fracturing. “Cheryl.”

She wrapped herself around him. The pleasure of holding her future husband burst upon her all at once, and she orgasmed deliciously. He roared and spent himself, blasting his hot load into her.

Lolling back, she relaxed in his arms…which were now floating in the air half a foot off the ground because he’d magically lifted them into the air during their passion. His palm cupped the back of her head, pressing her to his solid shoulder, and his sheltering arm anchored her to his side while her feet dangled. She tightened.

He shuddered, the aftershock of his release. “You make me forget everything but you.”

Cheryl stroked his trembling belly. She felt the same way.

The first time had been life-changing. There had been aching need and irritation he wasn’t already inside her where she needed him. Then shock and awe when she forced him there. And, finally, uncontrollable passion as she discovered what it meant to belong to her lover and give him everything.

This time was better.

The pleasure was sweet and intense without any surprises. But more important, it was right. This was the male she loved. No matter his reason for pursuing her in the beginning, they belonged to each other now.

“I forget, and that’s why we can’t do this anymore.” He lowered her to the ground. “I have a product line to launch. Get out.”

Cheryl stumbled on the vintage heels. Mal’s command to get out only seconds after he’d cradled her in his arms while the aftershocks of an orgasm rippled through her in delicious waves, struck her like a slap. “What?”

“You can’t come into my office again.” He left her at the collapsed conference table, strode to his closet, and tossed her one of his shirts and oversized pants. “It makes me lose my concentration.”

The dismissal stung.

She put on the clothes, buttoning the silk with shaking fingers. “So if I can’t come into your office, do I call you when I want to go home tonight?”

“Have Jasper take you. And bring you back too.”

She paused. So he was breaking his promise to take her. “Are you coming home at all?”

He rubbed his forehead. “I can’t. Not until the launch.”

He was on a deadline. This was his last chance to beat his rivals. The company was going to be sold or destroyed in two weeks. She could wait.

Except she couldn’t.

Cheryl finished dressing. “Mal, you can’t take on everything yourself.”

“I always have.” His teeth gritted. “I always will.”

Amber’s talk returned to her memory. He wasn’t alone. This was a team effort.

“Pushing everyone away isn’t going to make you a better performer,” she said. “Every artist needs a critique.”

“I need no one.”

Ouch. “No one? Not even me?”

He stared at her for a long moment.

Then he turned away. “Not right now.”

Cheryl stood in the middle of the office in his ill-fitting pants and shirt and her crazy hair and she clenched her fists. Some residual power of the pinup clothes must be left in her. He needed her, but not right now? No. That wasn’t okay.

“You can’t dismiss me like I don’t matter,” she said. “I’m not just your employee anymore.”

He rocketed to his feet. “You were never my employee! Your boss is Jasper.”

“Even so.”

“If Sard Carnelian beats us again, we all lose! The only thing that matters is this company.”

“That’s not the only thing that matters.”

He blinked.

“Your family matters,” she said. “Your health matters. I matter.”

He bellowed, “I’m doing this all for you!”

The sound washed over her like a violent windstorm. Yes, of course he was. He wasn’t doing this for vanity. He wanted to prove it could be done. To give hope to other low-class male dragons. To secure a nice future for her and to keep his siblings together.

But he couldn’t do it all alone. And he couldn’t keep treating her in this hot-cold-hot manner.

With the strength of her feelings from only minutes earlier, she continued to fight for her value.

“I love you,” she said.

He scrubbed his face. “Cheryl. Please. I don’t have time for you. Get out.”

The casual dismissal of her declaration slapped her across the face again. Her whole face got hot. Her tongue grew two sizes in her head and her throat went dry and sharp. Her heart pounded like she was running in a race and she sweated like she was standing on a roaring fire.

He scrawled something in the margin of a file.

She took a stand in his office and stabbed her finger at him. “I said I’d marry you, and I will. But you’re going to have to develop our relationship.”

“My schedule is packed.”

“Mal, look at me.”

“I don’t have time for your distractions!” He clenched his pen. “If I look at you, I’ll lose it. I’ll take you in the middle of the office. And I’ll do it again. And again. Until I can’t think of anything else. Until all that exists is me and you.” He stabbed the notepad. “Don’t ask me to do this. Not right now.”

Fine. Fine, fine, fine.

She wasn’t like his mother. She wouldn’t make him destroy his company because he prioritized it and hurt her feelings. But his time was coming. This obsessive self-sacrifice could not continue.

“Fine. I’ll take away my ‘distraction.’”

God, she was such an understanding girlfriend. He better appreciate it.

He scribbled something on his notepad. “Great. Get out.”

“But after this crisis, you will make time for me or you won’t have a wife!”

He blinked in shock.

With that forceful un-Cheryl-like declaration, she threw open the door of his wrecked office and stormed out.

The days passed by in agony.

Mal stayed true to his word and forced himself not to see Cheryl. She was his reward. His rainbow after the storm. His light in the dark, dark sleepless nights. He couldn’t give in and see her early. He hadn’t earned her. He didn’t deserve to cuddle up beside her or stroke her soft curves or bring her to the peak of pleasure. He didn’t deserve her quiet competence of her sparkling conversation.

Her final words played constantly in Mal’s mind while he was supposed to be concentrating on work.

You will make time for me or you won’t have a wife.

She’d looked so powerful as she snarled at him. Radiant, dragon-like, demanding. She claimed him so boldly. He accepted her claim with his whole being. Even now, his cock filled with the memory.

He’d wanted to fly across the office, rip off the men’s clothes, and have her again.

Which was exactly why he’d insisted she go.

It had never been so hard to focus. Usually, he put his head down and slammed into his work. He needed to prove he was needed. He needed to prove he was worthy.

But now he was conflicted.

Cheryl said she wanted him. He craved being with her. She almost sounded like she didn’t care if he was a number one company CEO. She wanted him anyway. Right now, even. Just the way he was.

He was worthy just the way he was.

No. That was impossible. He was so sleep-deprived, his imagination was trying to trick him into giving in to his deepest desires and going to her.

He needed to take the company to number one this launch. His siblings were counting on him. They’d spent five years working together, seeing each other nearly every day, even if it was only in meetings. He’d felt more closeness and belonging and family here on Earth than anywhere in the universe. He wouldn’t give that up. And he didn’t want his failure to curse his siblings, forcing them into a fate not of their choosing.

He’d started this company. He was going to finish on his terms. Cheryl had to wait. He forced her from his mind.

He couldn’t afford a single instant of distraction.

“Mal?”

He jerked upright. Everyone at his newly repaired conference table was staring at him.

Right. They were in the middle of a meeting.

“You want to launch three outfits,” he growled, repeating the last thing he remembered Amber saying before his mind had wandered back to the last viewing he’d had of Cheryl in one of those outfits. “Instead of our usual one. We already discussed this. It’s too expensive.”

She acknowledged his criticism. “We might not break even.”

“Yet you wish to do this anyway. And include an expensive free gift.”

“Now’s the time to pull out all the stops,” Darcy said. “This is your one Hail Mary.”

Mal barely understood those statements; the latter was a reference to sports. “We aren’t using your company, Darcy. What are you doing here?”

“If your company gets dismantled, you all go away. I’d hate that.” The human male grinned with white teeth. “So I’m helping.”

“Why? You’re not a member of our family.”

“Yet.” His smile widened. “I have plans.”

Amber fixed Darcy with a quelling stare.

Hmm. What was Darcy saying? Did he wish to become a member of the dragon family? Ah, now Mal remembered. Darcy had sisters. Perhaps one of his sisters wanted to claim Alex or Jasper, and then Darcy would become Mal’s brother-in-law. That must be how he would become one of them.

If Mal’s mother wasn’t satisfied with Mal’s marriage and the promise of dragonlets, then the others were going to have to scramble to find women.

Based on his experience with Cheryl, finding them wasn’t hard. Anticipating their happiness was far more difficult.

He’d prepared to tell her his wing-bone finger strength, but she hadn’t asked him once! And not all dragons willingly confessed their weakness.

Still, Mal was starting to figure her out. She didn’t like to be abandoned at his house without transportation. She wished to eat and sleep at regular hours, and she preferred to do those activities with him.

The memory of her other demands made his chest thrum. Yes, he was well beginning to understand her.

You’re perfect just the way you are.

She’d said that. It still jolted him. Some things about her were unfathomable.

He enjoyed the challenge of figuring her out. She would surprise and entice him for the rest of their lives.

Someone thumped his shoulder. “Mal!”

He jumped.

Pyro snorted. “Keep it together.”

Hellfire. Mal scrubbed his face. “Proceed.”

The dragons regarded each other.

“So you agree to three outfits?” Amber pushed.

“They scored well enough with the second round of test audiences, didn’t they?”

She lowered her chin. Of course they had, or she wouldn’t be having this discussion.

“Start mass production only if you can finish before the shipment date,” Mal ordered. “If you can’t, then limit the launch to one.”

Jasper leaned forward. “We’ll meet our launch window with all three outfits.”

“How do you know?”

“I took the liberty of producing the most popular outfit already. That production run is done, so we can now concentrate on the additional two.”

Everyone stared down the conference table at the stoic male.

Mal’s lips curled back from his teeth. “Before receiving the top-level approval?”

Jasper faced him solidly. “I evaluated the situation and moved forward to meet our timetable.”

“You don’t have the authority! I am the one who decides.”

“We are supposed to take on your duties until—”

“Until I found a wife! And I have found her!”

Jasper closed his mouth. But resistance showed in all their faces.

Dammit. “I have found a wife.”

No one dared dispute him.

Except one.

Pyro sucked in a breath. Streaks of gold and red zipped up his arms as lines of scales emerged and disappeared again on his dangerous hands. “Mal. You—”

He wheeled on Pyro. “You will not take this company away from me.”

“No one’s trying to—”

“You weren’t here, Pyro! You don’t understand.” He ignored the shocked look on his brother’s face as he seethed, his green claws emerging and digging into the conference table. “I have duties. This company is my responsibility. I dragged you here. I have to ensure it succeeds.”

Down the table, Jasper’s lips thinned.

His younger brothers defied him?

Mal erupted from his seat. His fury rose to a roar. “I run this company!”

The others clapped their hands over their ears. Darcy stared at him like he’d gone mad. He didn’t often lose patience in front of the human male, but Mal was over the edge. Between the endless frustration of reliving Cheryl’s words and the razor’s-edge stress of their looming deadlines, he needed sleep and stretching and Cheryl, and he wasn’t getting any of them soon.

“Mal,” Pyro growled, “sit down.”

Mal’s vision turned red. His siblings defied him. They all defied him.

He gripped the table hard enough to splinter it. “I am this company!”

Pyro rose and slammed his fist into Mal’s gut.

The air whooshed out. He folded over. And it felt like Pyro’s fist remained stuck up there, lodged in his gut. Air refused to return to his lungs. His mouth gaped.

Pyro helped him collapse into his executive chair.

His red vision faded to normal colors. Mal finally sucked in a painful breath. His guts burned.

Mal groaned. “Pyro…”

Pyro dropped into the chair beside him again and rubbed his calloused knuckles. “Don’t be an aristocrat.”

Mal narrowed his eyes at his younger brother. It felt like he was breathing through a straw. If Mal could get his breath back, Pyro would have a fight on his claws.

Alex cleared his throat. “I think what Pyro’s trying to say is that we all understand and appreciate your concern. You’ve always felt responsible for us because you’re the eldest sibling and this company is your vision. Our success is owed to you. But technically, Mal, you don’t have a wife until next Thursday. Which is after the launch.”

The day after the launch was the soonest Alex could schedule the human marriage ceremony. This way, Mal would reward himself. He would launch the final product and then he would enjoy Cheryl.

Soon. He just had to work a little harder. He had to make himself worthy. Then she would never throw him away. She would never, ever betray him.

Alex continued. “So the rest of us believe Jasper is within his rights to run the operations division as he sees fit. And if Amber has budgeted three outfits for our last launch—”

“Plus a free gift,” she said.

“—then that’s her prerogative as our chief financial officer. As sales manager, I have analyzed the successful sales tactics of our rivals, and I have acquired samples of their collectible free gifts.”

Pyro rested on his elbows. “As vice president, I sit back and relax. Darcy is here for moral support.”

“And my charming personality,” Darcy said.

“The point is, Mal, we’re all doing our jobs.” Alex sounded far less charming than usual and a lot more frank than his status as sixth brother gave him the right to be. “You have to trust us. This is the most important launch of our lives. You can’t carry it all this time. And if you try, you’ll collapse, and the company will collapse right on top of you.”

Alex was wrong.

Mal would carry this company long after his back broke. If his heart gave out, he would still carry it, dying upright. Not even in death would he let it go.

“Flint…” Mal groaned.

“Flint’s researching.” Pyro’s gold-brown gaze gleamed like he was hoping Mal would protest more so he could pound him again. “Probably.”

Mal tried to straighten. His bruised belly cried foul. Sweat beaded on his brow.

When Alex and Pyro spoke like everyone else was taking care of everything, what did they need Mal for, anyway?

But all he could do was groan and cough.

“You weren’t here,” he managed. When their mother had issued her first edict, Pyro had been partying in a human prison.

Pyro peeled back his lips from his teeth in a snarl. “I’m here now. So sit up and don’t speak. I’m leading this meeting.”

His burning guts gave him no choice but to obey. Mal strained to his full height and leaned back in the chair, waiting for his healing powers to fix the pain.

Alex placed his briefcase on the conference table and revealed the gifts the Carnelians had distributed. “Here are the collectible art cards from their last three launches.”

Pyro leaned forward. “Good work.”

“Thank you.”

Alex passed around the physical cards and also projected their images on the wall screen. They were cleverly drawn pictures of dragons wearing the clothes item the Carnelians were selling.

From three launches ago, there was a dragon in a fuzzy bathrobe and slippers with a cup of coffee and a newspaper under one arm. Next, a dragon checking out his blushing butt cheeks in a fitting room mirror, exposed by black leather chaps. Finally, the card they were distributing on the silk pajamas the Carnelians had just launched today: a green dragon in gray silk looking pleased with himself.

Curse them. It was easy to see why the products hadn’t been returned. Customers wanted to keep the clothes they had purchased because they were commemorated in these cards.

“Customers are making images of themselves in the same poses and sharing galleries,” Alex said, cementing Mal’s intuition. “That’s sparking their popularity.”

The Onyx Corporation needed something huge to compete. Sard Carnelian knew what he was doing. Was it his aristocratic blood that led him to understand the dragon customer psyche so well? Could a low-caste Outer Rim family ever compete?

Mal must and would beat Sard Carnelian. That aristocrat wouldn’t be number one forever.

“I have analyzed Cheryl’s artwork, and I’m confident she’s capable of producing a similar style,” Alex said.

Darcy snorted. “If you hadn’t told me, I would have guessed she was the artist.”

“The Carnelians are using a human artist, clearly.”

“Yeah, but that guy on the end there, in those silk pajamas. He looks just like her logo design you showed me the other day.”

They all stared at it. The silk pajamas card was initialed in a swirling script that could start with a C. The Carnelian name also started with a C, so that might mean nothing.

“Cheryl works for us.” Jasper pointed out the obvious. “Not the Carnelians.”

“Well, yeah. I’m saying if it’s not her, she’s definitely capable of imitating it,” Darcy agreed.

“Then,” Alex continued, “I propose we ask Cheryl to come into the office to—”

“No,” Mal snarled.

Alex blinked at him. “But…she could draw us three images, one of each outfit. If they become collectible like these other cards, we might garner three times the sales from our one launch.”

Three times the sales from a single launch would triple their first-week profits. How could they fail to overtake the Carnelians? And vastly surpass them?

But if Cheryl returned to the office, where Mal could see, smell, and almost taste her on the air, he would break. The only question was how much.

He might spring into full dragon, finally unleashing the wings she’d asked to see. And if he lost control to that extent, he would surely take her in his arms, fly her back to their lair, and waste uncountable hours drowning in her delicious pleasure. He might as well give in to his siblings and release control of the launch. It would be all over for him.

“No,” he repeated. “She must complete her final portfolio or she may not graduate.”

Darcy stared. “That’s unfortunate. Can she get an extension?”

He didn’t know.

“Perhaps she’s already created acceptable artwork,” Jasper said thoughtfully. “She draws dragons while she’s here, including ones wearing items we have tested and sold. I’ll review my memory of her art.”

Jealousy gripped Mal in a heart-pulsing squeeze. “She showed you?”

“I assisted with picking out her final portfolio pieces the last day she was here.”

Cheryl had shown Jasper what she’d refused to share with Mal! Scales prickled under his skin, pushing to shift. He needed to go to her now and reestablish that he was the most important dragon male in her life. Now. Now, now!

He growled as he clambered to his feet. His belly ached, but he gripped his will and remained upright. “I will judge her art. Where is she?”

The rest stared at him blankly.

“Now!” he demanded.

“Don’t you know?” Pyro asked, voicing everyone’s surprise.

Curse them all. Just because he was her future husband… No, anger would wait. He pinned his gaze on the operations manager. “Did you fly her from her lair this morning, Jasper?”

“No.”

Mal got some roar back. “You left her there? All day?” Her crying was a sight he would never tolerate again. She would never forgive him.

“No.” Jasper looked taken aback. “I have never taken her there. That’s your lair.”

Normally, it would be unfathomable to encroach on another dragon’s cave in their absence, especially with their mate, but their family wasn’t normal. What other siblings banded together to start a company? Mal had been sure Jasper would overcome his reluctance to assist Cheryl. “Didn’t she ask you?”

“No. Never.”

“I took her,” Amber said.

Everyone turned to the female dragon. All-new shock washed over the group.

First, it was odd that Cheryl would approach another female. Second, it was odd that Amber would help. Females were fiercely territorial. And third, neither Amber nor Cheryl had ever told him! How could this have happened without his knowledge?

“I returned her to the city this morning.” Amber let the other unspoken questions lie unanswered. She didn’t explain her strange friendship with Mal’s future wife.

Mal struggled with this new information. “Then where is she?”

Amber didn’t know.

“At this time of day?” Jasper reviewed her schedule from his memory. “There’s a break from her schooling, so she could be either at her school studio or at her mother’s home.”

Mal’s bruised abdomen spasmed. He sat abruptly. If Pyro hadn’t punched him so hard, he would already be gone. “Pyro…”

His brother looked unapologetic as he rose. “I’ll get her.”

“No! No, you cannot bring her here.” He held his aching belly. “I don’t want her anywhere near me. Her nearness is intolerable.”

“Intolerable?” Darcy shook his head. “Don’t let Cheryl hear that, or she’ll really get mad.”

“I can’t handle her closeness. She’s too distracting.”

“Seriously.” The human male regarded Mal with concern he tried to soften with a breathy laugh. “She won’t like you if you keep putting her down.”

“She will like me. I can speak as I wish,” he stated. “She loves me.”

Darcy snorted. “Uh-huh. Did she tell you so?”

“Yes.”

His face blanked in shock.

Pyro also raised his brows. “Love is rare for humans.”

“Not true,” Mal said. “They love all sorts of objects.”

“But not people. I’ve spent time with many females, and none have spoken those words to me.” He looked away.

Pyro’s dangerous magnetism attracted women of all species. As far as Mal knew, Pyro was the only sibling regularly targeted by female dragons for their mating lust. Because of his low caste, none would claim him as their husband. They used him and moved on. And now, he repeated the pattern with human females. Many human females wished to “try out” dragons, and he’d said there were no real differences between the species. Females were females.

Mal found that to be completely untrue, at least with Cheryl.

Cheryl was soft and sweet, quiet and focused. She made him feel safe and secure, and at the same time, on edge and hungry. A single conversation could plunge him into the darkest despair or lift him into the sun. He fought his craving to be near her all the time.

And now Pyro told him that Cheryl’s statement of love was rare.

Warmth flowed into him. The craving to see her grew stronger, irritating him like the itch of his wings. Longing to stretch out. Needing to fly to her now and demand her comfort.

“I will gather her art.” He refocused on the important point. “I will judge it and return with the best pieces to transform into free gift cards. She will not come here.”

“We should all judge,” Jasper argued, and the others agreed.

“Absolutely no,” he snarled. “I already forbade her from coming to this office until after the launch.”

“And she accepted? Before or after she said she loved you?” Darcy asked, raising a skeptical brow and smiling with his secret humor.

“Before,” he said. “I forbade her from being near me, and she said, ‘I love you.’”

Darcy stopped smiling. “And then what did you say?”

“I told her to get out.”

Darcy’s chin dropped. “She said ‘I love you,’ and you told her to get out?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God.” Darcy covered his eyes and laughed. The sound was tinged with disbelief and pitched high with hysteria. “You didn’t say that.”

“I did.” Although it hadn’t made her happy, she’d obeyed. “I had no time for discussing her likes and dislikes, and I told her so.”

“And now she’s not at your house and you have no idea where she is?” He let his hands drop on the seat rests. “This is bad. This is so bad.”

“How so?”

“You don’t get it?” He leaned forward in his seat. “She told you that you were the one.”

No. That wasn’t what she said.

Darcy saw his skepticism and pushed. “Yes, Mal. When a woman says, ‘I love you,’ she is saying you are her one.”

“But I didn’t notice anything in her eyes.” He frowned at Alex, who’d done the initial research.

The two-tone dragon shrugged. This was apparently all new data for him too.

Mal focused on Darcy, who seemed to know so much about human relationships. “We are to look into each other’s eyes and know. I didn’t even look up from my desk.”

Darcy blanked again, in even greater shock. “She said she loved you and you didn’t even look up from your desk?”

“You missed it,” Alex said, as though now he understood. “The important sign was likely in her eyes when you were looking away.”

His pulse jumped. This could not be true.

Again, the dangerous thought—he could be good enough for her right now, as he was—floated to the surface.

He crushed it down.

“I saw nothing,” he insisted. “There was no mesmerizing force. No ‘knowing’ of any sort.”

“Because you didn’t have the balls to make eye contact,” Darcy said.

“Mal,” Pyro growled. “That’s disrespectful. Even for you.”

Hellfire. “I was busy.”

“Too busy to acknowledge the soul-baring, heart-binding commitment of your future wife?”

The judgment of his younger brother stung. “I didn’t understand.”

“You don’t let something this big pass you by.” Pyro studied Mal as though he were unrecognizable. With his lack of sleep, perhaps he was. “Was it on purpose? You don’t like her?”

“No!”

“You figured out the truth? She doesn’t like you.”

He growled. “What do you know?”

Pyro shook his head. “Women don’t want us. They want our money.”

“She wants me.”

“Your dick, maybe.” He sniffed and thumbed his nose. “No woman wants one of us.”

“Cheryl is different.”

Pyro narrowed his eyes as though he were unsure.

Mal rose. “I will correct the error.”

And then he paused. They were in the middle of a meeting. Things were still unresolved. He needed to check every detail. His butt swayed toward the chair again.

Pyro held his gaze. New resolve lit his eyes. “I’ll run the meeting. You find Cheryl. You like her so much, you treat her with respect.”

He growled. “I am respectful.”

“Just because she won’t bite off a piece of your hide doesn’t mean you can ignore her needs.”

Again, the judgment stung. Especially since Pyro’s reprimand aligned with his own earlier mistakes.

Why had he refused to make eye contact? Why had he convinced himself that her statement of loving him was the same as her statement of loving iced white mochas or her new art tablet or a beautiful sunrise over Mt. Hood?

Was he afraid?

He’d faced down armor-shredding enemy fire in the Colony Wars, and he couldn’t face Cheryl’s feelings head-on. She’d bared herself to him in the human way, and he’d covered himself, denying their connection. She loved him, and he was a coward. There was no acceptable excuse. He’d flinched.

“I will beg forgiveness,” he ground out, heading to the glass shaft.

“Make it good.”

“Of course.”

But worse was Darcy’s shock. He laughed so hard, he gasped. “Oh yeah. If she loved you before, she probably hates you now.”

“Mal, I hate you!” Cheryl shook her fist.

The water-stained popcorn ceiling of her mom’s house didn’t acknowledge her anger. And the bedraggled bedroom, which was still messy from her quick packing job the other night, still didn’t reveal a new pair of jeans and a clean, dry hoodie.

She’d packed a couple of sets to take to Mal’s stupid house, and she’d left one set in the product warehouse when she’d changed into the vintage clothes for Amber. Her final pair had gone into the washer yesterday. She’d forgotten to switch to the dryer. It was still in the washer, only now dripping wet.

The last college class of her entire life was in less than an hour and she had nothing to wear.

Well, nothing but the extra vintage outfits Amber had stuffed into her messenger bag. The original plan had been for Cheryl to model all three outfits. Amber expected it to be a huge fight. She hadn’t expected Mal to capitulate and tell her to do whatever she wanted after seeing the first one.

The memory of how he’d glued his gaze to her body and how his hands had molded her curves made Cheryl heat again.

No. To quote from Mal himself, time was passing. She’d stayed up way too late not finishing the portfolio pieces for the self-assessment today. Mal had screwed her over by begging her to return to his place only to turn right around and tell her she’d be sleeping there alone. And she’d done it. Hoping against hope he’d break his own rule and show up.

He hadn’t.

The jerk.

Her current clothes shortage was all his fault.

“I hate you!” she shouted at the ceiling again.

Although it was vaguely satisfying, it didn’t help. She hissed out a long breath and unfolded her two remaining options, spreading them out on the bed.

Option one: a super-short sailor suit with a low-cut neck, tall white boots, and a skirt meant to flip up and reveal lacy blue bloomers. It left nothing to the imagination.

Option two: a vivid scarlet fifties housewife dress with an insert of black-and-white polka-dot cloth. It stuck out like a glowing red light, drawing everyone’s eye.

Deliberately call attention to herself, or bare everything and hope nobody noticed?

Hope sprang eternal. She shimmied into the sailor suit, cinching it at the waist and straightening the buttons. There was even a navy hat. Oh no. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Wow. The woman who looked back at her was a foreigner. Yes, it was her, but she looked kind of…well, kind of good.

No wonder Mal’s eyes had glowed green with lust and he’d come to her. She stroked her smooth, corseted belly. She had miles of legs in these boosted boots, generous cleavage, and endless curves all clothed in innocent white and striking navy blue.

How would he like this outfit? Now she’d been with Mal twice, a little light blinked in the back of her mind, thinking about him all the time. Giving up her virginity had shown her the passion her body was capable of, and she suddenly felt powerful in this outfit. He would like it. She stroked the piping. He would want to rip it off with his teeth.

The front door slammed. Her mother was home from work.

Electricity jolted through Cheryl. Would her mom ask where she’d been for the past few days? What would Cheryl say?

She went out to the living room, her mind churning. “Mom. Welcome home.”

Her mother tossed her purse in the large wicker basket and eased out of her hospital crocs. She dropped her keys on the messy, mail-strewn coffee table with a chink and smiled tiredly at Cheryl. “Thanks. Heading to school?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Her mom yawned and passed her. “Have a good day.”

She disappeared down the hall. The bathroom tap turned on, and tooth-brushing noises emerged.

What—seriously? That was it?

Everything was normal?

Cheryl tugged at the sailor suit. Her mom hadn’t even noticed Cheryl was wearing heels.

The bathroom door opened and closed. Her mom’s voice rose dangerously. “Cheryl!”

Uh-oh. She’d relaxed too soon. Cheryl tiptoed down the hall. “What?”

Her mom stood in the bedroom, accusatory, and pointed at the rummaged-through boxes. “You’re overflowing your half again.”

“It’s because of the final art show.” She dropped to her knees and repacked. Things didn’t fit nicely, and she didn’t have time. She crushed and shoved.

“Well, keep it neat, okay? You left your clothes in the wash last night.”

“Sorry.”

Her mom shimmied out of her beige blouse and work pants and crawled under the covers with a groan.

Cheryl stood. “Um, about the final art show…”

Her mom cracked a peeper. “Huh?”

“Can you come? It’s on Wednesday.”

“Let’s discuss it later.” She rolled over on her side, facing the wall.

Cheryl shifted her weight to the opposite foot. The last time they’d delayed discussion of an event, she hadn’t seen her mom until three days after it was over, and her mom hadn’t even remembered the initial discussion. “Later when?”

“Just later, okay? I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“You’re not usually working on—”

“Okay!” Her mother stuffed her pillow over her head. “We’ll talk.”

Cheryl shifted again.

“And take care of your side.”

Cheryl picked up a box that wouldn’t sit on the others and carried it out to the living room.

A large part of her wanted to storm back into the room and shake her mother awake. Didn’t she know Cheryl had moved out? And was engaged? In a few days, she would hopefully be graduated. Then would her mom make time to talk?

But her mother had been on her feet for over twelve hours now. She was saving lives while Cheryl drew a plastic stylus across an electric tablet. What had Cheryl done for their family or all humanity lately?

She struggled into a long, puffed winter trench coat inappropriate for the bright, warm June day, and headed to school.

A confident woman would have left the trench coat behind. She wouldn’t hunch in her MAX seat sweating and hoping no one reported her for suspicious behavior. She’d lift a big middle finger to whoever gave her a rough time and ignore all the stares.

Too bad that woman wasn’t her.

At university, Cheryl, along with the rest of her class, cleaned out the art closets, organized their digital and print media, and printed their final pieces for the Student-Employer Art Show happening on Wednesday.

After everyone had finished, her professor gathered them in the center of the classroom.

“Get out the employer target worksheet you filled out on your first day. Look at the employers you wanted to work for.”

She stared down at the names she’d written. Was it only a few months ago? It felt like a lifetime.

She’d written the avant-garde advertising companies sometimes used by Nike, Starbucks, and Microsoft. All large companies with a lot of money who might hire her and pay benefits.

“Now evaluate your work critically,” her professor said. “If you were the hiring director at those companies, would you hire yourself? Why or why not?”

Everyone studied their work and scribbled thoughts onto their assignment papers.

What could she say?

She wanted to say yes, she would hire herself, but that was a lie. If she were a hiring director, she’d hire someone with talent. Like her classmates. Not herself.

“Next,” her professor continued, “play headhunter. Walk around the class and write who you think your classmates should work for. What company would be their best fit?”

The rotation started. A classmate bumped her. She muttered an apology nobody heard. Her classmates walked around the room and wrote comments on the assignment sheets.

Everyone else was working hard, and she was standing around feeling sorry for herself. What was her problem? Mal worked a thousand times harder than anyone. Even though his company would fail in two weeks’ time no matter what he did, he still pursued his goal of first place. He didn’t sit around and mope; he got up and worked harder.

As though her thoughts had summoned him, Mal appeared at the upper-story window.

She flushed hot and cold. What was he doing here? Had he finished the product launch early?

His gaze picked her out. His eyes flashed green. He tried the windows, but this time, they were locked.

Go around, she mouthed, and pointed at the ground.

He disappeared.

She hurried out of class, crossed the long hall, exited through the glass doors, and met him at the top of the stairs. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” He pushed her trench coat off her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her. His hard muscles flexed as he crushed her to him.

The world stood still. Everything was Mal. His delicious scent, his intoxicating body, his ramrod-hard arousal pressing into her belly. His presence soothed and excited her. The throbbing sensation between her legs returned with pounding awareness. He’d come.

“Now it’s okay,” he growled low near her ear. “Let’s go.”

Yes. Let’s…

“No!” She drew back. “I’m in the middle of class.”

“Do you hate me?”

That made her stop.

His eyes blazed.

She stroked his beautiful face. She was allowed to touch him. Wasn’t it funny? After gazing at him with longing for months, she was finally allowed to reach out and stroke his high cheekbones. If someone had told her about this future, she couldn’t have imagined comforting him as if it were ordinary.

“No,” she said. “I could never hate you.”

He relaxed. “I need your art.”

“What, now?”

“The Carnelians distributed greeting cards. You must produce better ones.”

She should have known. He broke his no-contact rule for the company. Not her.

And she’d told him she loved him. The words weighed on her. She’d said them but he hadn’t.

Cheryl let go and stepped back. “It’s in use, kind of.”

“Here?” He pushed past her, into the building, and headed to the art class. She hurried after him. Although the class was distracted by the movement and noise of the independent critique, Mal didn’t exactly blend in. The hard-bodied, suit-wearing business dragon stood a head above them. Her classmates stepped out of his way and stared.

“This way.” She led him to her final three printed pieces, dying of embarrassment. “We can go over my drawings together as soon as class is over. Just wait here.”

“I don’t have time.” He echoed her mother’s sentiment from earlier in the day. “Where are your dragons? Ones wearing outfits.”

Fine. No one had time for her. She swallowed her hurt and dug out her tablet, logged into the Deviant Art site, and started him at the beginning. “Scroll through until you see what you like.”

He sat in a chair at the side of the room and swiped.

She took a deep breath and let it out. Mal hadn’t missed her these past days. Nope. Like her mother, he hadn’t even noticed she was gone.

She rubbed her cheeks.

Professor Jon walked up behind her. “Finished with the assignment already?”

She gripped her pen. “Uh, not yet.”

He studied her artwork. She’d finished the snowscape she’d started at Mal’s, drawn a ball of yarn, and also a stylized tennis shoe.

“This is…?” He prompted her to tell him about her art and explain why her target employers would purchase it.

“For Starbucks.” Good, her voice only quivered a little. “To go on holiday cups.”

“Hmm.” He gestured at the others. “And those?”

“The shoe is for Nike. Yarn was used in Microsoft’s last advertising campaign.” Everything had the theme of home. A basket of knitting said home to her.

He was silent for a long time. “Not a cutesy animal in sight.”

She shook her head.

Professor Jon tapped the yarn ball. “Stylistically, there’s nothing to fault. But you can’t submit this.”

Her cheeks heated. “Why not?”

“Never be derivative. Invest everything in your existing strengths. Otherwise, you’ll get booted for the five hundred artists behind you that have found their unique talent and mastered it.”

He grimaced at her other pieces.

Suddenly, the snowscape looked identical to a hundred others she’d seen. And the stylized tennis shoe—who hadn’t seen a stylized tennis shoe?

She wasn’t special.

Cheryl tightened the too-heavy coat around her, even though it made her all sweaty.

Who was she kidding? She’d come here today expecting something different. But that was impossible. No one would ever hire her. She was derivative.

Her professor stepped back. “Better to learn these lessons now, in your unpaid student days, than when you’re stuck in New York, trying to make rent.”

She nodded, unable to speak. Her hands started shaking, and a lump formed in her throat. Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry. It was a conditioned response to an entire year of feeling increasingly stupid and inadequate.

Her professor walked off.

He’d basically just told her she would never be a commercial artist. She should have given up on day two and become a janitor. Or an accountant.

The rest of the class passed her by. Her classmates walked around doing their assignments, working hard.

What was the point?

She would never be worth noticing. Not in art and not in herself. A hundred thousand women wore vintage outfits. Her mom was right not to notice. And who really wanted her? Mal was a fluke. She didn’t deserve her mother’s time, and she didn’t deserve his either. No one owed her anything. She didn’t deserve recognition or love.

Mal made a sudden noise.

At least he liked her art.

She gave up on her final assignment and walked to his chair. “Why did you ask if I hated you?”

“Because I told you to leave my office after you said you loved me.”

“That did hurt my feelings.”

He ignored her statement.

She debated telling him he was still hurting her feelings.

His gaze fixed on her most recent drawings. The ones she might as well give up on forever.

She would always be second place to Mal’s company, but he said he liked all her drawings. It eased the ache. Being a fond afterthought was the best she could hope for.

He made the noise again. “Why do you have this?”

She looked over. It was her sketch of him in the silk pajamas. “That’s mine. I drew that.”

“Then how does he have it?”

“He?” Well, she didn’t know who he was talking about, but she did know at least one person who had a print. “I gave it away.” She pointed to the comment trail on the posting, led by DragonLord C.

He looked up at her in horror. “Why?”

“He asked.”

Mal’s lips twitched. His eyes narrowed, and for one crazy second, she thought he was going to cry.

She put her hand on his forearm. “What’s wrong?”

He jerked away.

She curled her hand around her elbow, half hugging herself, as she struggled to absorb the hurt. “What is it?”

“This is the greeting card Sard Carnelian is distributing with the silk pajamas.” Mal’s lips drew back from his teeth in a furious growl. “The one who betrayed our company—and me—is you.”

What? Mal thought she’d betrayed him?

His accusation shocked Cheryl like ice water. She hugged her elbows. “That’s impossible.”

“You shared this drawing.” He pointed to the date she’d posted her drawing. “He stole our product. You’re the reason he’s beating us.”

No. She hadn’t done that. She wasn’t the reason.

She shook her head.

“You didn’t realize the C stands for Carnelian?” His brows wrinkled with hurt. “I trusted you. We all did. And all the while, the leak in the company was you.”

God, this was a nightmare.

Mal tucked her tablet under his arm and stormed to the window. He unlatched it and lifted it open with a shriek.

She couldn’t let him leave with this misunderstanding. “Mal, wait.”

He wheeled on her with fury. “You’re the reason we’ve been failing. Ever since we hired you, our ideas have gone straight to our enemy. And now your cards are so popular on Draconis, everyone is purchasing our enemy’s products to collect them. Do you want the aristocrats to win?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He turned away and clambered onto the sill. This was a second-floor room. The rest of her class gasped and shrieked.

She was creating a commotion, but she didn’t care. She had to stop him. “Don’t leave me like this!”

“Leave you?” His arms closed around her waist, and he yanked her after him. The next instant, she was flying out the window, suspended over the campus, and he was blazing with fury once more. “You’re never getting away from me again.”

* * *

They reached his lair in record time. Mal held his future wife tight as he returned her to where she belonged: his domain.

She sniffled.

In the classroom, Cheryl’s shocked face had swum in front of his eyes. Then sadness and shame showed she knew what she’d done. She knew she’d betrayed him and worked with his rival. Sard’s company had grown rich while his own company had faltered.

He landed on the icy pad and carried her into their lair.

“Mal.” Her voice sounded faint. Tears streaked her cheeks. “Let me explain.”

“We’re on the brink of losing everything, and you’re still helping Sard Carnelian,” he snarled.

“Let me—agh!”

No time for talking. He threw her over his shoulder, stormed into the bedroom, and tossed her on the bed. Her trench coat parted to reveal the enticing sailor dress from the vintage collection. His blood heated past the boiling point.

“It was a mistake.” She tried to cover herself.

His possessive need snapped. “Bare yourself to your husband!”

Her covering gesture stopped. She hiccupped. “Then you’re not breaking up with me?”

“Never.” He flew to cover her with his own body. “You are mine.”

She gasped.

His lips met hers, and his tongue demanded entrance. His whole being fought to have her, all of her, for his own, now, before she could run away to his rival once again.

Instead of fighting, she gave in with a whimper. Her mouth yielded to his invasion. Her fingers twined around his neck and pull him closer. She curled her legs around his waist, drawing his hard shaft to her soft center.

He ripped the cloth separating them and gripped her mons. She gasped. Her soft cleft was slick with readiness.

It was as though she desired him as fiercely as he desired her.

His fingers slipped between her folds and rubbed the hot nub scented with her arousal. She moaned and relaxed into his demanding caress. He lifted his lips from hers long enough to growl. “You are mine.”

She nuzzled his rough, stubbled jaw. “So take me.”

He shredded his trousers, positioned his cock at her entrance, and slid into her wet channel to the hilt.

She moaned again and grabbed his buttocks. “There.”

He thrust in and out, coating himself in her juices, marking her as she claimed him. Her head rolled back into the blankets and her hips lifted to meet his thrust. She exposed her body to him. Her breasts bounced and her creamy skin slid against his. She was so gorgeous. Her channel clenched him tightly, demanding release.

He gave it to her. Grinding his shaft against her, he carried her to the gasping edge. She grabbed his butt cheeks hard and arched. Beautiful color stained her cheeks as her lashes fluttered closed. Her channel milked him.

He poured his seed into her with a triumphant roar.

She was his. Only his.

He collapsed on top of her, crushing her to his bed. She would never escape him. He would press her down.

She stroked his itchy shoulder blades with gentle fingers. “Thank you.”

He lifted his weight off her. She breathed in and exhaled. Underneath him, she was blissful, all pink and soft and relaxed. He needed her in this state always, gazing up at him with her sparkling brown eyes, his cock buried inside her, all of her molded to his form.

Yes. She thanked him for taking the time she’d demanded.

Because I’m good enough just the way I am. Not working myself to death. Lying with her in bed.

No. He had no time for this.

He rose from her softness and jogged into the bathroom, sloughed off the sticky juices in a minute-long shower, and strode, still dripping, into a new suit.

She reached the bathroom as he was leaving it.

He kissed her goodbye. “I will return after the launch.”

“Wait! You can’t leave me here. Not again.”

“Here, you cannot contact Sard Carnelian.” He collected her tablet from where he’d dropped it by the bed and headed for the hall.

“I told you that was a mistake.”

“Because you didn’t recognize him.”

“I’ll be careful.”

The situation burned Mal all over again.

Sard Carnelian had clearly investigated the Onyx Corporation and identified Cheryl’s talent. She was the asset he’d mentioned. Obviously, he’d come to the corporation that day to meet with her, knowing she wouldn’t recognize him, and counting on the Onyx siblings to let him get away with it. Such a bold, ballsy move shocked even Mal, except the other CEO had good reason to think poorly of his rivals. Until today, they’d been none the wiser.

She grabbed Mal’s elbow at the door to the landing pad. “Wait!”

Mal turned and gripped her bare arms. “You will remain here. That way, you cannot reveal anything else by accident or betrayal.”

“You can’t keep me here,” she protested. “I have an art show on Wednesday. You kidnapped me from my last class. My professor’s probably going to fail me just for disrupting him. Again.”

“Then nothing is gained from attending the art show. You’re already failing.”

Her cheeks reddened and her eyes flashed. “Don’t say that. I might draw something that finally satisfies him and pass the class.”

“You must draw us the greeting cards.” That would keep her busy.

Her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms over her bare chest. “I just thought of something. What happens on Friday?”

“What do you mean?”

“The launch will be over. My art show will be done. We’ll be married, and you’ll have announced it to your mom.” She lifted her chin. “What happens then?”

He didn’t understand her question. “We decide the future of the company and enter the next product cycle.”

The spark in her eyes died. “The deadlines begin all over again.”

He nodded.

If they hadn’t beaten the Carnelians after this launch, he would beat them with his next company. And if they did beat the Carnelians, he would have to work even harder to keep first place.

But this answer didn’t satisfy Cheryl. Her shoulders lowered, and her eyes filled with tears.

He felt compelled to step forward and draw her soft, nude body into his arms. “There’s no reason to be sad.”

“You’re telling me this is what it’s going to be like after we’re married.” She glared at him with watery eyes, not melting in his arms as she usually did. “On Thursday, we’ll sign the papers, and then on Friday, you’ll just leave me here. Again.”

Stiffness invaded his spine. He fought his twitchy panic. “You still refuse to claim my lair as your own?”

“If you’re not here, I don’t want to be either.”

That eased his worry a little. “I will be here as often as I can be.”

“How many hours? I don’t want to continue as we are now. You can’t stuff me here and tell me it’s for the good of the company if things will never change.”

“There is change. On Friday, it will be a new product.”

“Screw the products.” She scrubbed her cheeks. “What about what I said? Where’s my time?”

That was the beginning of a conversation he couldn’t have yet.

He released her and reached for the door panel. “We’ll discuss our plan later.”

“No, we’ll discuss it now.” She set her feet and glared. “Because right now, your plan sucks.”

He heard her anger and turned once more to face her. “What would you prefer happens the first full day we’re married?”

“Well, first of all, I want you to attend my art show on Wednesday.”

“We’ll be in the launch.”

“One hour,” she insisted. “I need a friend in the audience. Someone who’s supporting me. And you can fly. It’s not like you have to fight bridge traffic.”

By the time of the art show, the launch should be queued. Any problems would have already revealed themselves and been resolved.

“As long as there are no major issues, I will attend for one hour.”

“Good.” She blinked as though she hadn’t expected his easy agreement. Then she fisted her hands for a new fight. “Then, after we get married, it’s traditional to go on a honeymoon.”

He’d heard of these things. Alex had mentioned it during one of the briefs, perhaps. Mal shook his head. “A full day is difficult to take off.”

“Honeymoons usually take one or two weeks.”

Incredulous laughter filled his chest. “One or two weeks? Impossible. I will miss an entire product cycle. And if we are selling the company and forming a new one, this is a critical era. My whole family’s future depends on it.”

She jutted her jaw. “It’s tradition.”

Two weeks with Cheryl while his siblings ran everything? Could he allow himself the luxury?

Even imagining it was dangerous. He wanted it so badly, his chest hurt.

He was done with this conversation.

Mal punched the locking code into the external door panel. “We have followed your human marriage traditions enough. You must compromise and accept dragon traditions.”

Her eyes widened.

Time to return to the company.

He turned the handle and pushed open the door. The rush of hot air burst from the fortress.

She shivered inside. Her shout followed him. “Exactly what about our engagement has been traditional? You big jerk!”

Cheryl yelled at Mal through the closed door. He flew away so quickly, he shrank to a dot on the horizon and disappeared.

Then…she kept yelling.

She pumped her arms, stomped her feet. and shrieked.

It was kind of invigorating.

After the excitement wore off, she dropped naked to the floor and rested on the warm stone, her bare chest heaving as she gasped for breath.

She’d asked Mal to come to her art show. And he’d agreed! Excitement zipped through her again. She rolled over on her stomach and wiggled. The stone underneath her was unforgiving but supportive, like Mal. It gave her freedom to do what she wanted.

Pretty much the worst had happened. Somehow, she’d screwed over the company and made things way worse for Mal. Everyone probably hated her.

Instead of firing her and breaking their engagement, he’d doubled down on his commitment.

The worst had happened, and he’d doubled down on his commitment.

So she would do the same. No matter what.

She wrapped her naked body in a towel and called Amber.

Amber greeted her bluntly. “You collaborated with our rivals.”

“It was an accident.”

“We have to fix it now. I can’t come get you.”

“That’s fine for today.” Cheryl got to the point. “I need my tablet.”

“You could use that to collaborate.”

Come on. “I’m not going to. And if I don’t have my tablet, how am I supposed to draw the stuff you need?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” Amber hung up.

She was better than her word and arrived just after Cheryl finished her minute-long shower and had pulled on jeans and another hoodie. Had Mal restocked her closet? There seemed to be more shades of blue than the last time. Of course, he was a billionaire clothier, at least for another week.

“Here’s your tablet.” Amber put the black device and a manila folder on Mal’s huge mahogany desk. “I stole it while Mal was yelling at Darcy. Something about how Mal proposed to you all wrong. Here’s the picture file for reference.”

Glossy photographs of models wearing the vintage outfits spilled from the manila folder.

Cheryl put her arms out to guard them. “I promise not to show them to anyone.”

“It doesn’t matter if you do.” Amber shrugged. “Sard can’t beat us this time. We already have full production.”

Her casual dismissal of the whole betrayal made Cheryl’s belly drop. She gripped her tablet. “I am really sorry. I didn’t mean to give my art to your rival.”

Amber’s head tilted. “Then why did you?”

“I don’t know.” Well, that wasn’t true. Cheryl tucked her hair behind her ear and squeezed her knees together. “I thought nobody would ever want my art, so it didn’t matter if I gave it away for free.”

“Guess this proved you wrong.”

“Yeah.” She lifted her stylus. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Okay,” Amber said easily and left.

Cheryl got to work. She drew for the rest of the day and gave herself complete freedom to compose whatever she wanted. Vintage dragon pinups, Precious Moments style, with big eyes and puckered lips and innocent joy. Surprised, in the Marilyn Monroe pose, wearing the red-and-white polka-dot ’50s dress. Leaning over and exposing their lacy blue bloomers beneath the sailor skirt. Looking jazzed, dancing in the rockabilly capris and T-shirt. Silly sketches, gorgeous sketches, Hallmark-inspired sketches.

As she finished each image, she emailed them to Jasper in a constant stream so the siblings would know she wasn’t betraying them again. She’d make up for her accident with sheer volume. They’d have options to choose the best ones.

When she took a break for crackers and peanut butter, the surrealness struck her again.

Wasn’t it crazy? She was popular on the dragon world? Mal must be about to call her and admit he’d played a practical joke. It was a mistake. They all lied to make her feel better about failing her final art class.

Except Mal would make a practical joke after Cheryl became an exhibitionist, which was somewhere on the other side of never. It wasn’t his way. And it was all too plausible that she’d accidentally betrayed him. Therefore, it followed that she was popular on Draconis.

Weird.

She carried her snacks back to his large desk and kept working as the sun went down and the day melted into a frosty night.

She was probably the first human artist the dragons had ever seen. Once they discovered actual artists, her popularity would tank.

No. Wait. Thinking negative thoughts was how she’d ended up in this mess.

Cheryl sent yet another drawing to Jasper and started afresh on a blank file.

She had to believe in herself. This was her chance. She had to work as hard as Mal did. Sell millions so her mom no longer had to work. Make a name for herself. She’d been given this opportunity. It was time to take herself seriously in the stars.

She’d be like a rock band that only got famous overseas. Only in her case, it was the rest of the universe.

And heck, maybe it was time to take herself seriously on Earth too.

The days passed. It was lonely working at Mal’s alone, but it was also kind of tolerable. There was still the internet. She had seasons of TV shows to catch up on, and she was better trained to handle isolation than anyone.

After Cheryl passed the last deadline to send in pictures for the product launch, she took a break and then switched to her projects. A real website. An actual store. A place to print her art and ship it. Best practices for handling limited editions, gallery showings, and fees.

On Wednesday, the day of the art show, Cheryl decided to dress like a real artist and put on a dress and nice shoes. When Amber landed on the pad, Cheryl put on her coat, locked up the lair, and met her.

“How did the launch go?” she asked, shivering in the icy mountain air.

“We’ll hear the status tomorrow morning at the three a.m. broadcast.”

Then Cheryl would also know if the company could be sold for enough money to keep the siblings together, or whether they’d be forced to spread across the galaxy and this was goodbye. Maybe goodbye forever. Dragons didn’t celebrate Christmas or Thanksgiving. Mal said when he’d gathered his siblings for this adventure five years ago, he’d never even met Flint or Alex face-to-face. It could happen again.

Cheryl put her arms around Amber. The female dragon squeezed her tight, and they lifted effortlessly.

It was awkward. Cheryl wasn’t a hugger. At least Amber had the decency to avoid eye-contact.

It was still awkward.

Cheryl couldn’t imagine hugging her boss, Jasper, or the too-perfect Alex. Maybe Pyro. He wouldn’t think anything of it, at least.

Amber rocketed them down the mountain flying much faster than Mal did. The freezing air heated to almost uncomfortable temperatures as it raced past.

“I hope you found some pictures to use,” Cheryl said.

“You sent too many.” Amber stared directly into the wind, not bothered by the harsh gusts.

“I was expecting you to pick the best ones.” Cheryl yanked a lock of whipping hair from her mouth. The hem of her dress stretched toward her feet.

“We intended to ship each product with one card.” Amber spoke in a conversational tone as if they happened to be squished against each other on a too-full subway car instead of squishing up against the sound barrier. “You sent us thirty. We decided to increase to three cards per outfit. Each product now contains one of the three cards. This could inspire one dragon to purchase three of each outfit to collect all the cards, making nine total purchases. Or we could face riots.”

“Riots!”

“Variability of the ‘free gift with purchase’ has never been attempted. We don’t know how the dragons will react.” She sighed. “But now is the time to try everything. We also don’t know what to do with the other twenty-one cards.”

“I’m selling them on Etsy.”

“To Draconis?”

“No. They haven’t figured out intergalactic shipping rates yet.”

Amber’s speed dropped like a rocket running out of fuel, and she let Cheryl off on the street in front of her mom’s house.

Cheryl stumbled, caught herself, and stretched. “It’s good to be out. I was getting cabin fever locked up in that place for so long.”

Amber tilted her head. “You weren’t on an artistic retreat? By your own will?”

“Of course not. You keep forgetting I can’t fly away like you guys.”

“Was Mal aware of your fever?”

“He’s the one who locked me in there.”

“You allowed him to do so.”

“He knows I don’t like it. I told him I’d rather not be there all alone.”

Amber’s lips pursed. “It may not be my place to say this, but… Cheryl, I think you need to breathe more fire onto Mal.”

She laughed. “What?”

“He’s used to a female who snarls and claws and threatens to tear pieces off him. It’s possible he doesn’t recognize your true feelings because you’ve not threatened bodily harm.”

“You’re kidding.” Although he’d been pretty worried when she’d said people ripped each other’s heads off. “There’s no way he doesn’t know.”

“He may know, but he may not believe it. Females in our culture are more persuasive.”

Well, great. “I know only female dragons can breathe fire, but—”

“Males can breathe fire,” Amber corrected. “They must prepare by eating a large amount of brimstone. It makes them stinky.”

Okay. Fun fact to file away.

“I don’t know how I can be any clearer,” Cheryl said. “I can’t rip off any body parts, and even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. I mean, having this conversation with you is a huge deal for me. Normally, I can’t express myself at all. And I’ve had so many heart-to-hearts with Mal. What else can I do? I can’t help but be me.”

Amber had no more advice for her.

Well, maybe an idea would occur to Cheryl. Maybe when Mal showed up to support her at the art show.

She thanked the female dragon for the ride, wished her a good day, and headed up the cracked sidewalk to the house.

Amber called out. “Cheryl. Thanks for being you.”

Cheryl stopped. “You too.”

Amber brightened, waved goodbye, and took off.

The compliment warmed her. How lucky she’d overcome her fears, gotten to know Amber, and now even considered her a friend. Amber had it hard too. Everyone wanted Cheryl to be an extrovert, and everyone wanted Amber to be a dominant female dragon who overshadowed her brothers. It took Amber a lot of constant effort to be who she wanted to be too.

Cheryl let herself inside the house. Her mom’s purse and keys were tossed across the living room.

Her belly squeezed.

She took a deep breath. In the worst case, her mom would already be in bed, but even if she was—Cheryl walked around the corner.

Her mom was sitting in the kitchen, wearing holey pajamas, finishing up a bowl of cereal. “Hey, sweetie.”

Oh, thank goodness. It felt like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Relief poured into her. She gave her mom a hug.

“Whoa. Nice to see you too.” Her mom hugged her back and smiled tiredly. “How’s school?”

“Almost over.” Cheryl took her usual stool at the breakfast bar. They didn’t have a table. “Can you come to my art show today?”

“Oh. Today?” Her mom’s pale lips pressed together in apology. “I’ve scheduled a haircut, a bank consultation, and a physical therapy massage. Sorry.”

Her belly twinged. “Just one hour.”

“We also need to do grocery shopping. And unless you’d like to run the vacuum, the floor isn’t going to clean itself.”

Her mother stood, shuffled to the sink, and rinsed her empty bowl.

Cheryl’s lips trembled. Part of her wanted to snap Fine and take off. But it wasn’t fine. And she wasn’t a whiny kid who would run away and sulk. She was an adult who would express what she wanted. Honest, like Mal, and direct.

“I really want you to be there,” she said.

Her mom laughed shortly. “But I’ve come to so many of your art shows.”

“This one’s different. It’s the capstone student-employer art show.”

“Oh, they’re wonderful and you’re wonderful.” She set the bowl on the drying rack, came around the bar, and hugged Cheryl from behind. “The way things are, I’m going to have a bunch more to attend. You can count on that.”

She headed down the hall to the bedroom to get dressed.

Cheryl slid off the stool and trailed after her. Her heart flipped acrobatics in her chest. Yes, her mom had been coming to her art shows since she was old enough to hold a fat washable marker. Their house had been filled with her crayon art, marker art, and then digital art. And, with any luck, Cheryl’s popularity would rise and she would have many future shows. Maybe even on Draconis.

She could dream. It was allowed.

But…

“This is the most important,” she said from the bedroom doorway.

“Why’s that?” Her mom tugged on a turtleneck.

“It’s my last one for college.”

“What? It is not.” Her mom fastened dress pants for going out. “You’re only a… Let’s see… Wait. Are you a senior?”

“Next week, I graduate.” Assuming her professor didn’t fail her. But if he failed her, she’d take summer credits and make the dragons pay for them. And she’d take an easier class to pass, like Optical Physics for Advanced Color Theory.

“Well. I think I knew that. It’s been a long…life.” Her mother rubbed her tired face. She looked a lot like Mal—nearly gray with exhaustion—and now she sagged as she considered fitting the art show into her already packed one-day-off schedule. “What time is it?”

Cheryl told her, and her frown deepened. “That’s right during my physical therapy.” She rubbed her neck where she’d developed a strain by putting in all the extra hours.

“It really matters to me,” Cheryl said.

Her mom’s voice croaked with tiredness. “Why’s that?”

Mal was coming. “I want you to meet my employer.”

“Your boss on the internship?” Her mom looked less and less happy.

“Sort of. And,” she skipped ahead, “I’m going to be exhibiting my unpopular drawings. I’d like your support.”

“Ugh.” Her mother sat on the bed. She dropped her head into the cradle of her palm and grimaced at Cheryl. “You know I love and support you, but I just can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t have time.”

The rejection hurt.

And it hurt way worse than if Cheryl had let it go and flounced off at the first no. Her mom knew it was important. Cheryl had shared her deepest feelings. Her mom stomped on them and told her the truth.

Cheryl wasn’t good enough.

Fine. The bitter word almost fell from her lips. Cheryl didn’t need her mom. Mal promised he would come. He was all she needed…

No, that’s not true.

Yes, she was glad she’d have Mal, but she wanted her mom there too. And she was done with swallowing down her wishes, silently keeping the peace without anyone else even realizing her needs.

She was done hiding.

“Sorry, sweetie.” Her mom stood to leave.

This conversation wasn’t over. Her mom was about to get a shock. Cheryl wasn’t going to slink off and sulk. She was staying right here. She had more to say.

And she was going to say it.

Mal stalked back and forth in front of his office wall screen.

Launch statistics scrolled across the screen. The locations of the shipments. Their estimated arrival times on Draconis. Pre-launch meetings with their retail spaces. Influencer coverage.

He hadn’t seen Cheryl in days. He hadn’t slept in as long.

Their rank was so far down the list, they could never rebound, to say nothing of charting or reaching the top spot, and yet, he’d nearly killed himself to make it even that far. Never had it been more important. Never had he needed to succeed more than today.

“Mal.” Amber came to a stop behind him, startling him. Her hair was slightly windblown as if she’d just arrived from flying. “You’ve done all you can.”

“There’s still more to do,” he growled. He must do something. Something.

“If there is, we’ll handle it as we handled the launch.”

His siblings had assumed responsibilities with flair and skill he hadn’t realized they possessed. Several times, he started on a problem only to realize one of them had already resolved it. Not only Kyan or Jasper, but Amber and Alex and even Pyro.

During the next launch, he would check before going off to resolve problems on his own.

“Go to your future wife,” Amber said.

He should. In a few hours, their goods would reach the Draconis markets. The freighter was circling the main planet now, requesting port inspection. Soon, their influencers would leak the first pictures of the new products to the hungry public.

Cheryl had been put off long enough.

He wanted to be near her so badly, the craving for her was starting to overtake his back itch. He wanted to be with her even more than he wanted to burst free his dragon wings, and he hadn’t wanted anything that badly since he was a youth desperately seeking recognition, validation, his place in the world.

But the other part of him was terrified.

What if there was a crisis? What if the number one rank was within their grasp and something went wrong? Something only he could resolve?

From the moment his mother had refused to acknowledge him, he’d thrown himself into work, perfecting his scores so everyone would need him on their team, perfecting his studies so everyone would need him during exams, perfecting his military record so everyone would need him in their unit.

He couldn’t leave the launch now. He had to be needed.

Mal retreated to the easy answer. “Her art show isn’t for two hours. This is our final launch. I will see it to the end.”

Amber’s delicate brows drew together. She was normally so careful to remain expressionless. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe it’s the beginning.”

“Of?”

“I am sorry it’s ending,” she said. “I’ve enjoyed seeing you every day. After this ends, I still want to see you.”

He focused fully on her. “Why?”

She smiled. “Because I like you.”

Amber just…liked him?

“I’ll be sad if I can’t see you anymore. So come up with a good new company idea. Okay? And we can all stay together here, just like this.”

His throat closed. He didn’t know what to say.

Of all of them, Amber had autonomy. A female dragon had only to select a rich, worthy, aristocratic male for her mate, and she could go anywhere in the Empire. The rest of them had to scramble and find a landing place.

Amber didn’t need him. She’d never needed him. He only invited her to join the company because he was inviting everyone else and he didn’t want her to feel slighted. Her agreement to come had always mystified him. Especially since, although she questioned his judgment sometimes, she’d never tried to take over.

“I want to see you even if there’s no company,” she added.

He cleared his throat. “You can. Anytime.”

“Good.” Her smile faded to her normal, quiet expression. “Go to Cheryl.”

He wavered. “She hasn’t summoned me.”

Her eyes glowed. “Mal. You know she’s not a dragon female.”

For the second time, someone was reminding him of this. Cheryl had said the same thing. “Yes. Obviously.”

“Cheryl will never summon you like a dragon female. She’s a human woman. You must listen to her as you would listen to an equal.”

He growled. “What’s your point?”

“You must respect her wishes.”

For the first time, his attention left the launch and focused only on his sister. “When have I disrespected her wishes?”

“Do you not know?”

He thought hard.

“She won’t overpower you with flames and claws. Consider her desires. That’s your respect back to her.”

With those words, Amber left the office.

What did she know? Had Cheryl confessed disrespect? When? How? She hadn’t ripped Mal’s head off, either in the way he was used to or in the human meaning of the word. When Cheryl raised her voice, it didn’t hurt his ears in the least.

Mal resumed his pacing. He could raise his voice and summon the rest of his siblings for their opinions. Kyan was monitoring the building for any last-minute sabotage from Sard. Alex had queued up the communications room in case of a dire emergency.

Pyro was in his office. He couldn’t stand to watch Mal pace. He’d had to leave just to keep from pummeling Mal into a heap.

Regarding Cheryl, Mal intended to make her happy, of course. He did that in all the ways he knew how: by provisioning her with a lair, by pleasuring her body, and by attempting to impregnate her with the dragonlets all females desired.

But… Amber wasn’t entirely wrong. Cheryl kept demanding something odd.

She kept asking for his time.

Not for riches. Not for an aristocratic position. She would be pleased for him to simply be at home with her. Spending time together. Doing nothing at all.

Odd. Strange. Unfathomable.

And impractical.

Still, he would visit her art show today. Perhaps Amber was correct and he should go soon.

The itch in his shoulder blades grew.

Just a little longer.

Perhaps he could afford a short honeymoon. She’d demanded it and accused him of not following any human marriage traditions, so after their argument, Mal had consulted a human male. Darcy had laughed hysterically, and then he’d explained all the ways the dragons had misunderstood the proposal traditions. A honeymoon was essential to a strong marriage.

“For what purpose?” Mal had demanded.

“For spending time together.” Darcy had smiled at him like he was an idiot. “Why else?”

Humans and their free time.

But perhaps… It wasn’t that Mal didn’t want to spend time with Cheryl. No, he had to actively fight the soul-bending impulse to spend all his time with her. Locking her up with him for eternity wouldn’t be a bad fate.

He couldn’t, though. Spending too much time with her was extravagant. Decadent. Above him.

Aristocrats spent all their time with their loved ones. Mal was the son of a brimstone miner. Death would come for him before abdication of duty.

And yet Cheryl didn’t care about his status either. Aristocrat? Low caste? Outer Rim dragon? She preferred him. She wanted to spend time with him.

Just like Amber.

They both wanted to see him.

Mal wished to spend time with them too.

What if I can have those things?

The urge pulsed in his shoulder blades, driving into him like a knife.

What if he was needed not because he worked hard and earned love, but because he was loved just as he was? Cheryl had told him. How many ways did he need to hear this to finally believe it?

Mal turned to the glass shaft. Yes, he would fly to Cheryl now, wherever she was. They would spend the rest of the day together. His siblings would handle any problems from the launch.

He opened the window. His back shuddered.

“Mal!” Alex raced into the office. “You’re still here. Come to the communications room. Hurry!”

Mal left the shaft and flew after Alex. His brother shimmered, leaving the ground as he raced along the hall. “What happened?”

“Our sales are being embargoed.”

“But we made the deadline to use the ports!”

“We did use the ports. Our products made it to retail outlets. But across the whole surface of the planet, our stores are closed down.”

“What?”

“Empress Horribus stopped all sales. She found out you’re not going to marry her.”

Mal stormed down the hall after Alex. “The Empress found out? Our mother was supposed to wait on announcing our marriage until after she met Cheryl.”

Which would be after the launch.

Everything was supposed to happen after the launch.

“Someone else told the Empress.” Alex pushed the conference door open. “Her adviser is calling now.”

Mal burst into the small conference room. His other siblings beat him there; they turned to him for leadership.

A smarmy, blue dragon sneered from the tiny wall screen. He was a greasy, archaic, sniveling stereotype of the conniving aristocrat.

“There you are. Finally. It’s amazing a little male upstart like you could ever pretend to get so far. And the son of a brimstone miner dares to turn up your dirty, squished snout from taking the claw of our holy Empress? Prepare to receive the downfall you deserve.”

He roared. “I am Malachite Onyx!”

His siblings joined him. All roared, “Onyx!”

The adviser’s sneer froze on his face. “Well, the low castes certainly are loud.”

“We are wealthy and powerful,” he snarled. “Take your whiny complaint to our mother. She will give you an aristocrat’s answer!”

He paled. “Your mother accepted our marriage offer. The Empress kindly deigned to consider your unworthy, low-caste, Outer Rim self. How dare you take another mate? You are obligated to marry Empress Horribus. Prepare to watch your company’s destruction.”

His siblings growled their fury. Amber shone with a crackling rage.

“You might as well give all your products from this launch to the Empress as compensation.”

Mal held the male’s attention. “So this is about money?”

He sniffed. “How crude. You’re threatening to embarrass the Empress. In less generous times, that would be reason for her to execute you and your family line.”

“This is the modern era, old-timer.”

“You’re forced to sell anyway now that your mother has foolishly given away your port privileges.”

So it was about the money. Or was it? The Empress would use the military to block their stores and outright embargo them.

He’d lost his final chance to become a number one company. Number two was as high as he could go.

There was only one choice.

He would sell for a huge profit, keep his siblings together, and found a new company that hit number one.

His lips peeled back to show his teeth. “Fine. The Empress wants to buy this corporation? We’ll begin negotiations.”

* * *

Cheryl refused to accept her mother’s rejection.

“I can’t go to this show,” her mom said from the ratty old bed. “I’ll go next time. I promise.”

“When?” Cheryl asked bitterly. “When will you have time?”

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

“You’re always saying ‘another time,’ so when is it?”

“I don’t have to sit here and take this.” Her mom got to her feet and strode down the hall.

Cheryl trailed after her. Heat rose until her whole body felt like she was on fire, and her accusation burst out. “You never do anything for me!”

“How dare you!” Her mother whirled on her with trembling anger. “I am working myself to the bone for your future. I need one day off. Can’t you give me one day?”

“It’s my last art show.” She knew she was being unfair and her mom was right, but she couldn’t help it. She’d endured being alone and silent for so long. “I never ask you for anything. This is the one time—”

“You ask me for stuff all the time,” her mom denied. “Last week, it was to go on a trip.”

“That was at Christmas!”

“No, it was—”

“Yes, it was!” Cheryl bunched her hands into fists. “I wanted to go to the coast like we used to. Before my internship started.”

Her mom started to protest, then stopped. She remembered the internship part at least. “That was last month at the latest.”

“I’ve been working at my internship since December.”

Her mom’s mouth closed with a click. She sighed again, long and hard, and the gray exhaustion closed over her like a wave. “I can’t tell if I’m coming or going anymore. I just don’t have anything left.” She sank onto the couch and leaned over to lace her shoes. “You’ll have to forgive me. Okay? Maybe I can cut back my shifts once you’re done. Then you’ll have your mom back.”

“Cut back now,” she said softly. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Please. Come to my art show.”

“Cheryl, don’t be self-centered.”

That last word snapped in Cheryl’s chest. The reaction spread outward, raising heat, turning her insides into brittle salt.

She was self-centered? She wanted to spend time with her mom, and she didn’t want her mom to work so hard, and she was the self-centered one?

Cheryl smacked her palm against her bare chest. “You didn’t even notice my outfit.”

Her mom sat back and looked at her. Really looked at her. “I’m sorry. The dress looks nice.”

Well, but… Okay. It was a start.

She’d found the dress in Mal’s closet. It wasn’t short or low-cut like the vintage pinups, but it was a nice, subdued black with a devilish red underskirt. The underskirt shimmered like secret dragon scales when she turned quickly. She’d traded her tennis shoes for matching red flats and put gem-tone barrettes in her hair. Not to pull her hair back from her face. Just to accent the hair hanging down.

Although it wasn’t as brave as the vintage ’50s dress, it also wasn’t jeans and a hoodie.

Her mom glanced at the clock and rose. “We’ll talk later. Have a good show.”

The dismissal hurt. It hurt, it hurt.

And she realized the truth. “There won’t be a later, will there?”

Her mom groaned. “Of course there will be. Are you trying to start a fight? I’ve got to go.”

“So go.” Her jaw ached from pinching her lips together so hard to keep the tears in. The woman who meant the most to her was letting her down. “But I won’t be here when you get back. I thought you should know.”

“So dramatic.” Her mom tugged Cheryl, stiff, into her arms. She smelled like cool hands and lily-scented lotion and Mom. “You can handle this art show. You’ll be fine.” She rocked Cheryl gently. “I know you.”

“No, you don’t.” It made her heart break, because her mom didn’t know her. Not anymore. “I’m getting married on Friday. Did you know that?”

Her mom released her and stepped back with a frown. “What?”

“I’m engaged. I wanted to introduce you to my fiancé at the art show.”

“The art show? You’re still—no.” She barked out an incredulous laugh and held up her hands. “There’s no need to make up a fake fiancé. I promise I’ll pay more attention. Let’s finally plan that trip, okay? We’ll do it tonight after you get home.”

“I moved out a week ago.”

Her mom shook her head. Clearly, she thought this was more drama. Lies to get Cheryl’s way.

Cheryl’s lips trembled. Her mom didn’t notice anything. “Didn’t you see? All my stuff’s been gone.”

“Be serious.”

“I moved out a week ago to live with my fiancé.” Her voice quavered, and at least her mom sobered up and listened. “He’s a dragon alien and CEO of the company I’m interning at. We’re trying for a baby so the matriarch won’t… Well, it’s this whole deal. I’m going to be a major stockholder. I guess.”

Of some company, even after this one got disbanded.

“And my art is getting famous on the other planet. Weirdly. So you don’t have to work the extra shifts anymore. You can take time off and relax.” Her tears spilled over. She scrubbed her cheeks. “I know you’re doing everything for me, but sometimes, I miss you.”

“Cheryl.” Her mom took a deep breath. She pinched her nose. “You’re clearly going through a lot right now. But look. You’ve been doing art shows your entire life. One of these days, you’ll have confidence in your own work and stand proudly in front of it without needing your mom by your side. You’re almost twenty-one!”

“Twenty-two.” She sniffed.

“What? Where did the last… Okay, the point is, you can do this. You’re an art show pro. It’s going to be okay.”

“You didn’t even notice.” She hiccupped. “Apparently, you never missed me!”

“Cheryl!”

“I’m sorry. You know how to reach me. And if you’re not interested in attending the wedding, I’ll send you an invitation to the baby shower.” She strode out the front door, leaving her mom in the living room with one shoe on and one off. The door slammed behind her.

And that was how she moved out. Apparently.

The MAX ride to her university was sticky and crowded. Cheryl got out a compact and wiped up her face, neatened her dress, and applied a light touch of makeup.

Well, she’d done it. She finally told her mom how she felt.

For all the good it had done.

But even though her mom thought she was lying and treated her like a child, Cheryl felt okay. She’d expressed herself honestly. All the practice with blunt, in-your-face Mal had rubbed off. Now if she could channel confidence when dealing with her professor, maybe she could pull herself out of the spiraling grade.

The rest of her class was buzzing in the professional gallery as they set up their installations. Her professor’s connections had secured visits from a bunch of donors, and many were high-placed advertising executives seeking new blood.

Nerves twinged in her belly as Cheryl plugged her tablet into the larger panel on the wall and set the display. She’d run out of time to print off her new pieces, so this was her compromise. Raw, on the monitor, final products.

Her classmates paused and stared.

She’d dumped her class pieces and instead displayed her three favorite dragon sketches. Were they ones Amber had shipped? Cheryl didn’t know or care. They were hers.

On the left, a voluptuous rockabilly dragon made a too-cool-for-you kiss while she lounged on the hood of a cherry-red convertible. On the right, a generously proportioned sailor dragon tucked a spy glass behind one frilly ear while she leaned over a ship’s railing. And in the center, a bold, in-your-face dragon stuck her hands on her ample hips and dared anyone to critique her dessert-filled ’50s banquet table. She was dressed in Cheryl’s favorite outfit: black skirt, lacy red shirt, and plump, polka-dotted hair bow.

Yes, they were cute. They exemplified what she was beginning to regard as “her” style: warm colors, cheery objects, and lots of twinkling eyes. And cute. Cute was her.

Mal was coming soon. She could handle her mom’s rejection because he would be here. She could handle the other students’ stares because he was coming. She could handle the comments of the trolls on her DeviantArt and Tumblr accounts, who said turning pro was selling out. She stood bravely beside her art while the doors to the gallery opened and the art show commenced.

Hours passed by. Like, more than one. She checked every single minute.

Where was Mal?

Her professor walked up to her during the second hour of the show. She steeled herself. Seeing him made her hands tremble. It was a conditioned response. Her semester of failures piled up and up and up.

Several employers stood behind him holding wine goblets and cheese snacks.

“Back to the cutesy animals again.” He shook his head. “Have you given any thought as to how you’re going to employ yourself after graduation?”

The employers chuckled and elbowed each other. Students were so short-sighted and idealistic, they clearly thought. Especially art school students.

She flushed hot. “I opened an Etsy store.”

One of Professor Jon’s brows rose. He crunched a cracker and spoke around it. “Have any customers?”

“I just opened it.”

“Good luck.” His tone said she was going to need it. “You should have interned at a professional company and learned how it works.” He turned to leave.

His dismissal, like the others of today, stung.

But it was the last time.

“I did,” she said.

He paused and turned back to her while the employers continued on, leaving them alone in the quiet corner of the busy gallery. “What was that?”

“I did intern at a professional company.” Her hands shook so hard that she had to clamp them together. “Onyx Corporation. It ends next week.”

His brows rose. “Oh, you got the Onyx internship I announced last semester? Say. That guy who keeps disrupting class. Is he one of them? I’d like to meet him.”

Her professor actually sounded interested.

“He, uh, was supposed to be here.”

“Right.” His brows wiggled. Mal wasn’t here. “How was it working for dragons?”

“Fine.”

“That’s it? Just fine?”

Her heart pounded hard. “They’re fine.”

“They didn’t mind your cutesy illustrations?” He crunched another cheese-cracker hors d’oeuvre.

For the first time, she noticed his sarcasm wasn’t directed at her. Just as Mal was blunt to everyone, her professor was sarcastic about everything. Maybe she shouldn’t take it so personally.

She shook her head. “They liked everything.”

“Hmm. You said it’s over after graduation. They’re not keeping you on?”

“I…might keep working for them.” Although Mal was pushing it. Skipping today was the utter limit. He’d promised her he would be here. “I might. Assuming I pass this class and graduate.”

“Oh, sweet bejeezus.” Her professor choked on the cracker and winced as though he’d bit his tongue. “You know this class is based on self-assessment, right? I grade how you grade yourself. You know why that is? Because I’m just one guy.”

“You’re the teacher,” she said.

“Exactly!” He did a little dance. “I’m not God. I don’t run the Académie Paris. I’m not even the guy who’s going to hire any of you. You fill out your daily self-assessment at a C average, I’m going to give you a C. Write an A and I’m going to give you an A! It’s like no one can figure this out. It’s written in the damned syllabus.”

And he swore.

She tried to catch her breath. “But you hate my art.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Eh. It’s not personal.”

So he did hate her art.

“You know who else I hate? Bob Ross. His happy little cabins and his cheerful little trees. You know who else? Thomas Kinkade. He’s got a shop in every mall. He’s the only artist my mother can recognize. Picasso, no. Thomas Kinkade, yes.” Her professor rubbed his forehead. “Oh, and unless you want me to be here all afternoon, don’t get me started on Disney or Pixar.”

Well…but…

“But you’re the teacher,” she repeated, clinging to the one thing every student understands.

“I know.” He sighed. “So if you want my opinion, I think you’re highly skilled at drawing the types of art that would be appreciated at, and let me list them off again, companies that match the style and tone of Precious Moments, Hallmark, and most greeting card companies. But you continued to say that you didn’t want to work at those places, so here we are.”

“You didn’t like them.”

“But you clearly do, so see above.” He tapped his fingers together. “All right. Here are your final three pieces. They’re designed for an employer. In this case, we’ll say they’re designed to appeal to dragon aliens. You know them better than I do. Considering your employers’ advertising needs and branding desires, fill out your final self-assessment sheet, turn it in with what you think you deserve for your ultimate grade, and that’s what I’ll give you for the class. All right?”

No. That made no sense. He was supposed to tell her whether her drawings were any good. Whether any employer would hire her after university. That was how it worked. He had to tell her what was good enough.

Right?

He took pity on her. “Okay. I can see you’re struggling. Let’s make it easy. Pick up that piece of paper and write down whether those dragon aliens actually want any more of this disgustingly adorable art.”

She picked up the capstone Student-Employer Art Show self-assessment paper because he ordered her to, but she held the pen laxly.

If he wouldn’t tell her, then…it depended on how Mal’s final launch went. Right?

What if it was all a mistake? What if Mal was wrong, and the dragons hadn’t liked the art Sard had stolen from her and they just loved comfy pajamas? What if everything went wrong and the Onyx Corporation was ruined and everyone had to split up? Because of her?

But even if it all went wrong now, she’d been successful in the past.

This self-assessment was like life. She was always striving for someone else’s good opinion and never trusting in her own.

And yet the paper in her hands was like the final test.

Could she really give herself any grade? Any in the whole world?

Really?

“Why aren’t you writing? Is one of those aliens going to kidnap you out of this class period too?” He squinted at her dragon pinups and shook his head. “Well, be sure it’s filled out before you leave today.”

Her professor headed back to the snack tables.

Emerging from the crowds beside him was the guy she’d met in the parking lot outside Onyx Corporation. That day, when she’d run out to sign Sard Carnelian’s pajamas print and accidentally betrayed Mal for the last time.

Tall and cold, he wore the same black suit, earbuds, and opaque sunglasses like a secret agent. His too-hot-for-humanity presence should have tipped her off. She must have been too focused on her new outfit and not thinking straight.

He’d been with Sard. That meant he was working for the Carnelians.

He crossed to her. “Cheryl. Come with us.”

She backed up and hit the gallery wall. If Mal saw her with this guy, he’d get the wrong idea. “Go away.”

Another secret agent dragon appeared. Crap! Two of them.

She tried to control her quavering voice. “Simon, right?”

“Syen.”

Whatever. “What do you want?”

“We want your art.”

Apparently, she could give herself a passing grade on this assignment.

“You’re working for Sard Carnelian,” she accused.

He nodded as though it was obvious. She must be a real doofus.

Jeez, she probably was.

“He’s willing to pay.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “How about I get paid for the drawings your boss already took?”

“That is acceptable.” Syen pulled her into his muscular arms and lifted off the gallery floor. “He’s ready to negotiate.”

“Hey, wait!”

And, once more, her classmates shrieked as she was kidnapped and flown away.

Mal reached a stalemate with the Empress’s adviser.

“You must give us all your profits from this launch,” the smarmy adviser droned, ignoring any counteroffers. “We don’t care how that places you at a disadvantage for selling your company. You’re marrying a human. Your family’s future is not our concern.”

Amber tapped her extended gold-orange claws on the budget sheets she’d been reviewing. “Giving you this launch’s funds is equivalent to giving you the whole company.”

His lips pulled back in a sneer. “Oh? I didn’t realize you were so close to insolvency.”

Her eyes crackled, and smoke curled from her lips. “We planned to grow our business, not allow someone else to plunder it.”

He shifted nervously. Despite being days away and shielded by planetary, capital, and palace security, he had every right to feel uncomfortable. “This isn’t my choice. It’s what your eldest brother has driven us to. We were counting on his honor to uphold the marriage promise.”

“She was counting on his money,” Pyro snarled.

“How dare you!” he hissed. “Take care, Sparky. The Empress will hear of your insult.”

Pyro’s nails extended. Claws gouged the table.

Jasper raised a finger. He wished to speak privately.

“Pause the transmission,” Mal ordered.

The adviser’s brows rose in shock. “Don’t you dare pause—”

Alex pressed the pause button. The adviser’s face froze mid-threat. On Draconis, their screen would be frozen for him.

They were already in the Empress’s bad graces. They could hardly afford one more insult to her negotiator.

Mal snapped. “What, Jasper?”

“We’re not making any progress,” Jasper said.

“Obviously.”

Exhaustion pooled in his back. He stretched. His spine popped. His wings trembled beneath the skin. They yearned to flex so badly, his shoulder blades ached.

What time was it?

Mal had surely missed the hour he’d promised to attend Cheryl’s art show. She would be angry, but she would understand.

“What leverage can we use?” Mal slumped in the seat. “They must want our business. They’re going to crush us and take over.”

“Then why not take it?” Kyan asked quietly, his scars a silent testament to his deadly past. “Why talk?”

Huh. A good question.

The Empress controlled the military. She had the power to destroy planets. Taking over one small company—even using a secret black ops operation like the kind Kyan used to perform—was nothing for her.

“Why not stop the banks?” Amber agreed. “Why not confiscate our products? We’ll never willingly give them up. Especially not for a stupid reason like embarrassment. The Empress isn’t our mother. This conversation makes no sense.”

Alex tapped his lips. “Unless the Empress is backing Sard Carnelian.”

“Why would that make a difference?” Amber tilted her head at Alex. “She could take everything and give it to Sard. There’s no reason to ask us so nicely to roll over and die.”

“That’s also what I thought,” Jasper pondered aloud, steady and thoughtful. “There’s no reason for this conversation. Why waste time? And then, I thought, that is the purpose.”

Alex blinked. “Wasting time?”

Jasper nodded. “That adviser is trying to stall us.”

“Until when?” Mal demanded. “For what reason?”

“I don’t know.” Jasper scratched his head. “Perhaps it’s to give the Carnelians a chance to gain an advantage over us.”

“Steal our products? Impossible. Sard’s in prelaunch now. Their new product goes out next week. He doesn’t have the capacity to steal ours.”

“Perhaps the Empress is unaware of this conversation. Perhaps the adviser is acting without her authority. Aristocrats have connections in the palace we don’t. The adviser may be giving the Carnelians time to do something before our launch.”

“Such as what?” Amber asked.

Jasper shrugged. “Perhaps I am mistaken.”

But he’d gotten Mal’s brain moving in a new direction. “Perhaps it’s not a ‘what’ but a ‘who.’”

“I don’t follow,” she said.

“We often stalled the enemy to capture a critical unit.”

Pyro nodded; he and Mal were the only two who had completed military service.

“We would make up any reason,” Mal said. “Any demand. And while our enemies were distracted on one front, we would strike.”

“Who’s missing?” Amber asked. “They can’t be interested in Darcy.”

“Rose.” Jasper levitated. “I’ll locate her.”

“Of course, there’s also…” Mal trailed off. Of course. He jumped to his feet and slammed the intercom. “Jeanine? Have you heard from Cheryl?”

“No,” the gravelly voiced receptionist said.

Relief warred with nerves. “Good—”

“Her professor called a little while ago. She needs to ‘fly back to the art show and submit her final self-assessment’ if she wants to pass the class.”

Mal released the intercom. That did not mean what he thought it meant.

“Cheryl doesn’t fly,” Jasper said.

“No.” Pyro rose. The fury in his eyes echoed Mal’s. “But Sard Carnelian does.”

Mal slammed from the room, Pyro right behind him. The rest flew after, levitating down the hall to the nearest external exit.

Kyan met them at the doorway to Mal’s office. His hulking form was most welcome. He fell in behind them as they crowded around the glass exit.

“What would he do with Cheryl?” Worry darkened Jasper’s brow. “Recruit her for his company?”

“We won’t give him the chance to find out.”

Amber crackled. “I’ll assist.”

“We need you here.” Mal shoved open the door and nodded at Kyan. “Kyan and Pyro will assist me.”

Energy shifted Amber’s wrist and hand skin over to scales. “I’m Cheryl’s friend.”

The rest of their siblings stared in shock. Female dragons didn’t make friends easily. And with a human woman? Unheard of.

But this was no time to be amazed.

“You’re the only one who can stand up to this adviser,” Mal argued. “He’s Draconian through and through. He’ll try to alert Sard when he sees our absence, devise a plan with Jasper and Alex, and, if all else fails, call our mother.”

Amber blinked. “If we can’t run our own company, she’ll prevent you from ever running another business.”

“That’s why I’m relying on you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t wish to become this company’s figurehead.”

“You’re not.” He strode around the desk and gripped her scale-covered hand in a human shake. “You’re its CFO.”

She blinked.

He looked at his other remaining siblings. “Can you do this?”

Jasper and Alex nodded. They were already thinking about the problem.

Amber’s gaze relaxed. He recognized her not for being a dominant female dragon, but for being the chief financial officer, fourth in order of age, and also fourth in the chain of command after himself, Pyro, and Kyan.

“Our final product will be launched by the time you return with Cheryl.” Amber released him.

“It sure better be,” he roared, “or else we’ll have to fly to Draconis and force it through ourselves!”

He flew into the glass shaft. His clothes shredded and fluttered off as he shattered into dragon form, zoomed free of the roof, and ascended into the bright sky.

Now.

His wings burst free and stretched to their full size. They shocked the other dragons, who burst their own wings shortly after. Three males flew a domination flight to attack their rivals. Mal was a powerful male flying to claim his female and destroy all resistance.

Pyro and Kyan flanked him.

“Mal.” Pyro’s voice crossed the wind in an echo. “Females are grasping and fickle. Human women are no different. What if Cheryl has already rejected our company to work for Sard?”

“She will not,” he snarled.

Cheryl was the secret asset Sard had identified. Mal thought she was his luxury, like stretching his wings, like sleep, like trusting in his siblings. She wasn’t a luxury. She was essential. Only with her could he become whole.

And confident. Mal hadn’t thought he was lacking in confidence, but this final incident revealed just how cowardly he’d been. Believing others wanted him only because of his work ethic was a weakness. It could be exploited. Instead, believing others wanted him as he was—needed him even if he wasn’t working himself to death—was his new mission.

He should have trusted in his siblings. He should have trusted Cheryl when she said he was good enough.

He should have trusted in himself.

Cheryl’s kidnapping was his fault. He’d been too fearful to go to her all the times he’d needed her. What if he’d believed in her healing words? Giving in to the craving was right. She was his soul.

He would rain fury on any coward who dared threaten her.

Once she rejected Sard, what would he do to her? She was a fragile human. Not a claw-wielding, fire-breathing dragon female.

Mal growled.

On his other side, Kyan matched his fury. The scarred dragon shared Mal’s protective instincts toward those he considered family. And despite their few interactions, Kyan considered Cheryl family.

They all did.

“If Sard threatens her,” Mal growled, “then he will die.”

“When Mal gets here,” Cheryl told the giant, pierced man introduced as Sard Carnelian, “you are so going to die.”

She sat in a seat in front of Sard’s big desk. His office was paneled in hardwood and other flammables. If she were a female dragon who could breathe fire, like Amber, that would be useful.

The two dragons who had kidnapped her stood behind Sard, guarding the bright windows, and popping hard candy into their mouths.

Her mysterious fan DragonLord C, also known as the CEO of the rival Carnelian Corporation, rested his elbows on the desk and smiled benevolently. Silver gleamed from his eyebrow piercings and fillings. Man, he had a lot of fillings. She almost felt bad for him. He really needed to take better care of his teeth.

“Mal can’t see the treasure he has right in front of him.” Sard Carnelian’s voice was deep and resonant. “How can you trust your career to that male? Here at Carnelian Clothiers, we have already proven our ability to bring your art to a hungry dragon audience. Stick with the number one company and your reputation will soar.”

That was a pretty speech. A while ago, it might have been the encouragement she needed to hear.

But that wasn’t what she needed now.

“Perhaps you don’t know I’m engaged to Mal. The last thing I want to do is work for my rivals.”

The CEO shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately, you won’t own the company for long. The Onyx matriarch gave away your port privileges. Your company can’t survive.”

“I know all that. I’m sticking with Mal anyway.”

“Your loyalty is admirable but misplaced. He’ll never see you as more than an asset to exploit.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Is it? You know if he marries the Empress, he could get the port privileges reinstated and save the company.”

Her stomach dropped. The female dragon he was supposed to marry was the absolute ruler of all dragons? Their Empress?

“I don’t believe you,” she said slowly.

“No?” He pushed an old phone at her. “Call him yourself. But don’t be surprised if he doesn’t have time to talk to you. Even now, he’s negotiating with the Empress’s adviser.”

A part of her cried inside. Once again, his company came before she did. It would always be that way. Life with Mal, married or otherwise, meant taking a backseat to the Onyx Corporation, whatever type of business they were running.

Worse, he might actually decide to marry the Empress. He’d done everything up to now to save the company. Cheryl came a far distant second.

Well, maybe not everything had been for the company.

“For us, you will be a valued employee.” Sard smiled broadly. His silver-capped teeth gleamed. “We appreciated your talent long before Mal knew you existed. We’ll be here long after he’s gone. Join us, and you will never have to worry.”

Again, he spoke the truth.

If they were only going to talk about Mal, then probably this male could find a counter to every argument. He was a dragon, Mal was a dragon, and they were both guys. Who knew how the male dragon mind worked? The longer Cheryl dated Mal, the less she was sure.

So, she had to take the pressure off Mal and place it where it belonged.

On her.

“I can’t join your company,” she said. “I’m not interested.”

He opened his palms, the very picture of confusion, gentleness, and surrender. “Why not?”

“Because your actions toward me have been dishonest.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“You lied about who you were.”

He laughed softly and looked askance at the ceiling. “I never said I was someone else. I used an identifiable user name.”

“You kidnapped me from the middle of my capstone art show.”

“I was told employers would be conducting interviews. We are conducting an interview.”

“I’m done.”

“Please.” He laughed again. “You haven’t heard our offer.”

She studied him. Sard Carnelian didn’t roar like Mal. He acted kind and gentle, but underneath that patina lay the same controlling demands. They’d flown her here so quickly, she didn’t even know which direction she’d gone. Sard had her, and she had no choice.

“I don’t care about your offer.” She sucked in a deep breath and lifted her chin. He was smug, arrogant, and convinced she should fall all over herself in appreciation for his attention. She saw no reason to put up with his attitude. “Take me back to my art show.”

“You’ll like working here.”

“I already hate it.”

“Please, Ms. Miller.”

She gripped her skirt to stop her hands from trembling. “Now you’re being disrespectful.”

His kindly expression froze. The worst thing dragons could do was disrespect each other. His lips twitched, and she could tell he wanted to expose his teeth and snarl. Mal would have already yelled her out of his office.

She loved Mal’s blunt honesty. He would never try to sweet-talk her into doing something she’d regret. He laid it all out on the line. That was why Alex had to do sales. Mal was too much himself.

She loved everything about him.

Sard clamped down on his emotions. But his “gentle” words had more bite. “Should we call Mal up? Perhaps you can hear him propose to the Empress himself.”

“This isn’t about Mal.”

“Of course it is.”

She shook her head.

“You lose the company. You lose his lair. You will receive nothing.”

She snorted.

Sard stared.

Cheryl had spent her entire life being cautious around other people. She’d let her mom ignore her for years rather than demand they rebuild their relationship. She’d been sensitive to Mal’s drive to run his company and resigned herself to coming in second. Now, a strange dragon had kidnapped her from her own art show to cram a job down her throat?

“I’m tired of other people telling me what I can and can’t do.”

“Ms. Miller, just accept my offer—”

“You accept my offer.” She stabbed her finger at the so-called CEO. “Which, if you return me to my art show immediately, is to not sue you for copyright violation.”

His brows drew down. “Copyright violation? You gave me those pictures. I have it in writing.”

“You asked if you could ‘have’ a picture and if I’d sign your print.” She narrowed on him. “I don’t know how copyright works on Draconis, but no court on Earth would say that gives permission for a business to print out a billion copies to sell products. And if any business in this part of the world tried it, I’d have a hundred lawyers banging on my door begging to represent me in court.”

His lips tightened. “Good thing it didn’t occur on Earth.”

“Except it did. You dragons agreed to obey local laws. You’re paying foreign business tax to Uncle Sam. And our ‘contract’ took place on a human-owned website.”

“Look, Ms. Miller—”

“No, you look!” She bared her teeth at him. He blinked in surprise. “When I decide to have a relationship, it’s going to be equal. When I marry my husband, he’s going to uphold our vows. And when I accept a job, it’s going to be the one I want on my terms.”

Because she was worth it.

“I’m not going to accept an offer forced on me by someone who pretended to be my fan. Someone who tricked me into leaking critical information that betrayed my current employers. Even if I forgave you for everything else, I will never forgive you for that.”

His red eyes glowed.

He controlled his anger, however, and held up a calming hand. “I am an honest fan. I just happened to learn something about my competitors. It would be irresponsible to stockholders not to act upon that knowledge.”

“Uh-huh. Is that how you sleep at night?”

He frowned. “I don’t understand. Why are you talking about sleep?”

“Never mind.”

“No.” A growled clung to the underside of his soft tone. “You will explain yourself.”

“Or what? You’re going to imprison me here even longer?”

“Imprison? Ms. Miller, I’m trying to help you. Your blind infatuation with Mal has clouded your mind. He doesn’t care about you. We’re trying to help you gain your own independence.”

Cheryl crossed her arms over her chest and one leg over her knee. “Sounds like that’s a yes on longer imprisonment. Can I at least get some not-drugged food or a glass of water?”

He gestured to his subordinates. Syen left; the other guard remained at the window, crunching candy.

Sard noticed her gaze. He plucked the candy from his subordinate’s hands and offered her the plate. “It’s not drugged, I assure you.”

Fine.

She took one smooth speckled brown jewel and popped it into her mouth. It dissolved on her tongue. Not sweet, exactly. It had a weird, powdery texture that unsettled her stomach.

Syen returned with a sandwich and a glass of water.

Thank goodness. She gulped the water.

Her stomach twinged.

Delayed nerves? She grabbed the top slice of bread and tore into it.

“So as I was saying.” Sard frowned as he tried to return to a less incendiary topic. “You cannot refuse our offer. The Onyx Corporation will soon be no more. You have nowhere else to turn. Mal does not love you.”

Her stomach boiled with acid.

She dropped the bread and clenched her belly. “Did you feed me poison?”

“Brimstone candy is not poisonous,” he said.

Brimstone. Yes, there was a vague rotten-eggs flavor building up on the back of her tongue, along with a mouthful of angry saliva.

The two males chewing it as they stared out the window reinforced her faith that Mal was coming for her. They were trying to build up defenses for when he arrived. Males could make fire after eating brimstone candy, Amber had said.

A painful burp gathered in her belly.

She gasped, struggling to contain it. “So now I can make fire?”

“Not at all.” He laughed at her ignorance. “It only affects dragons, not humans.”

From the window, Syen softly added, “Or humans who are pregnant with dragonlets.”

Sard frowned. “Mal’s so busy with his company, I doubt he gave her any time.”

Jerk.

Her belly bolted for her throat. She grabbed the wastebasket and folded over.

Molten heat poured out of her mouth. Orange flames singed the backs of her front teeth. The discarded papers and wicker caught fire.

“And I’d be wrong.” Sard’s eyes flew wide. “Congratulations.”

His two subordinates stared at her in horror.

Syen flew for the door. A second later, a fire alarm blared.

She dropped the flaming wastebasket and stood. Her belly growled like a bubbling cauldron. They were just getting started.

“I’m pregnant?”

“Sard!” The anonymous goon was horrified. “There’s no way Mal will give up on her and marry the Empress now. He’s going to murder us when he finds out we stole the mother of his dragonlet.”

“I know, you fool. Our only hope is that he does not yet know her condition.”

Saliva pooled in the back of her throat again, soaking her mouth. She leveled her gaze on the panicked dragons. “I told you to take me back to the art show. Blargh!”

The rival CEO shot backward. Flames engulfed his desk. His executive chair rolled out of her path with force, shattering the glass window. The hall behind her filled with shouting employees.

Except for nausea, light-headedness, and the nasty smell of her eyebrows singeing off, this was pretty fun. She aimed her next flaming belch at Sard’s smarmy red velvet couch.

He roared at his minions. “Get a fire extinguisher!”

“There it is,” Kyan told Mal and Pyro. His soft voice was ripped away by the hot winds generated by their furious speed. “Sard Carnelian’s complex.”

“Hit it fast,” Mal ordered. “He’ll expect us. Whatever you do, protect Cheryl.”

They dove. The curve of the planet flattened as they thundered for the ground.

“There’s smoke!” Kyan shouted over the screaming atmosphere.

“I see it!”

What could it mean? Sard Carnelian dared to threaten Cheryl with fire? Mal bellowed. He would save his future wife and then rip the rival CEO’s wings off.

They closed on the complex. Smoke billowed from broken windows. Fire alarms wailed, and the distant sirens of emergency vehicles blared.

“That evil bastard,” Pyro breathed, coming to the same conclusion. “I’m going to rip his wings off.”

“To your left,” Kyan said.

Two dragons flew from the smoking building in full dragon mode, one speckled like granite and the other the color of peridot. Pyro tucked in his wings and aimed for them, claws out.

“Leave them!” Mal dove. “Our priority is Cheryl.”

She wasn’t flame-retardant. They had to get her out of the burning building.

Pyro banked away from the chase and rejoined him and Kyan.

A third dragon burst out a window, jeans shredding as he scrambled to avoid a blast of flames.

Sard.

He turned as red as his namesake. The heavyweight CEO couldn’t disguise himself.

“Sard!” Mal roared.

All three brothers tucked their vulnerable wings and descended upon the rival CEO in battle mode.

Sard banked hard, avoiding a furious Pyro by flinging himself into Kyan’s tight hold. Sard thrashed. The heavyweight nearly broke free, but Kyan had fought dirtier battles in his mercenary days. Kyan immobilized Sard and turned him to face Mal.

“Give me Cheryl!” Mal roared.

“Take her!” Sard gasped, kicking helplessly. His eyes rolled white with panic. “Get her out of my building. She’s on a rampage!”

Pyro flew at Sard with all four claws out. He was going to rake them across Sard’s exposed belly and eviscerate him.

“Pyro! Stop!” Mal shouted.

His brother roared with incomprehensible rage. He was too far gone to hear anything.

They didn’t need the blood of another family on their souls. Kyan released the CEO.

Sard deflected Pyro’s attack. Pyro scrambled and slashed in fury. Sard fought back. Kyan hovered near to step in if it looked like the claws and teeth were going to damage anything permanent.

But Cheryl was still in the building.

“Kyan!” Mal dove.

He narrowed on the broken window where Sard had emerged.

Cheryl stood in the center of the flaming hallway. Her feet were set, her head was bowed, and her hands rested on her belly.

Was she wearing a dress?

She looked up and saw their shadows.

“Cheryl!” Mal flew to her, transforming into a human with his arms wide.

She braced and opened her mouth. Flames erupted.

Kyan tackled Mal from behind, throwing him sideways onto the smoking carpet. Searing heat passed within inches of his head. He smelled burned hair. His or Kyan’s? The volley of flames passed.

His future wife was breathing fire.

Kyan rolled off.

Mal pushed himself to his bare human feet and stood naked in front of her. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, Mal.” Cheryl covered her mouth. “Sorry. I thought you were the other guy.”

No time for apologies. The building was on fire, and it didn’t look like the charred support columns were going to hold much longer.

He grabbed her and dove backward, out the window, to open air and safety.

The building shuddered, and the floors collapsed with a boom.

She gasped and stared at the flaming building as they flew away from it. “Oh my God. I could have died.”

Yes. She could have.

Mal held her. She was soft, warm, and alive. “I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.”

“It’s fine.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I knew you were coming for me.”

His heart swelled painfully in his chest.

She had complete faith in him. More faith than he’d had in himself.

Cheryl stroked his back. “Hey. Are you naked?”

“Yes.” He lifted her chin with his thumb and claimed her in his kiss.

She accepted his claim and stamped her own. Smoke, fire, and brimstone flavored her saliva. Their lips melded, their tongues tangled, and their hearts synced.

Then, and only then, did he relax and release her lips to kiss her chin, her cheeks, and her forehead.

She sighed.

With her in his arms, he could finally think.

Ash smudged her cheeks, and the hem of her dress had singed to charcoal. She smelled like fire and sulfur, but she also seemed filled with new vitality. Her brown eyes sparkled, and a fearless smiled brightened her beautiful face.

He stroked the dirt off, squeezing her biceps and thighs. She was whole and in his arms and safe.

She squeaked and wiggled, proving she was fine.

“What did they do to you?” he demanded.

“Forced job interview.” She hiccupped and covered her mouth. “Ooh. Fly me close to one of them. I have a few more ‘feelings’ to share about their methods of recruitment.”

But the rival dragons were long gone.

Another shudder tore through him. He’d screwed up, but now she was safe. She was here. His arms tightened. He would never let her go again.

Kyan flew beside them in his scaly, blue-gray dragon form. “I interrogated Sard’s employees. They swear all they gave her was brimstone candy.”

“Brimstone candy! Why—”

“At her request.”

She nodded. “I was hungry.”

Oh. Curse them for starving her. He would… Wait. Brimstone candy gave her a burst of fire? That meant…

Kyan looked at Cheryl with even fiercer protectiveness than before. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” She swallowed. “This is going to redefine morning sickness.”

Mal squeezed her. Sard had dared to steal his pregnant fiancée from him. “I’m going to kill him twice.”

“Do it later.” She coughed. “You have to take me back to my capstone art show.”

“You’re in no condition to attend.” He was flying her directly to his lair, washing the stink of the other males off her, and covering her with his.

“Don’t argue. I will flame you.” She swallowed again. “And fly carefully. That’s an order.”

Mal flew Cheryl to her university.

He wanted her to go back to his lair and recover, especially now that she was pregnant with his dragonlet, but she was determined.

And fire-breathing.

“I have to finish the class,” she insisted. “Which means attending the art show and submitting my final self-assessment. You’re not going to talk me out of this, Mal. And not only that, you owe me. And, as a final argument, I will flame you.”

He had no choice but to respect her wishes.

This whole kidnapping had occurred because he hadn’t listened. He hadn’t kept his promise. His enemies had counted on him being distracted by the company, and they’d gotten to her while his attention was diverted.

That would never happen again.

From now on, he would listen to his own body’s needs. He would stretch his wings. He would sleep. And he would be with Cheryl.

She loved him. She wanted to be with him. She was pregnant with his dragonlet.

Being with her, wrapped in her love, was what he’d always wanted.

As the university buildings loomed on the city horizon, he gave in to his urge and squeezed her shapely thigh though the black dress. “I didn’t come at the hour I promised.”

“God, don’t remind me.” She teased him with a human growl and bit his sensitive earlobe.

His cock pulsed.

She nuzzled his rough jaw. “I’m still angry about that, by the way.”

“Please forgive me.”

“I’m not going to.”

His stomach dropped. Amber had been right. He should have given up long ago.

He struggled to form words. “You must. I need you.”

“I’ll forgive you after a hundred years have passed, with you in bed next to me every day, when I wake up,” she said.

She wanted him in her bed when she woke up? It was difficult but possible. He must never travel more than a day’s spaceship ride away. So all intergalactic trips would require her by his side.

That was… Well, it was difficult but possible.

His world changed, and he would change, too. This was what it meant to be with her. It was what he wanted.

“I will do that,” he said.

“I’m not done. You also have to listen when I speak, and you have to do what I say. And I can’t keep playing second fiddle to the company. I just can’t. I deserve better.”

“You will play first fiddle,” he agreed. “All fiddles. From now on. I promise you.”

She pulled back to study his face for truth. As the air whipped against her cheeks, she squinted and tried to pull the hair away.

He rotated and slowed so she could see the truth of his promise without any obstructions.

“You’re going to put me above the company?” she asked slowly. “The old company and whatever new company we start together?”

“This is my vow.”

Tears sprang to her eyes.

“My vow makes you sad?”

She laughed and shook her head through her tears. “I’m happy. I’m sorry.” She buried her face in his neck and hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe it.”

Ah. She could not believe him and was therefore sad. His past actions had destroyed her faith.

So through constant, faithful action, he would restore her trust. Then, after a hundred years, she would forgive him.

“You must marry me in anger,” he said.

She laughed again and wiped her eyes. “What?”

“I can’t wait a hundred years. I want you as my wife as soon as possible. By your laws and by mine.”

“Okay.” She nuzzled him. “Your laws will have to wait nine months.”

“Plus a year,” he reminded her. “Our dragonlet must be acknowledged by my mother on the first birthday. But no matter the outcome, we’ll be married by your laws, and I’ll be yours.”

He landed at the university gallery at the top of the steps.

Wrapping the charred layer of her dress around his waist, Cheryl led him awkwardly through the crowds, past the gallery, to the family bathroom at the end of the hall. People stared, but she kept moving. Who hadn’t seen naked people streaking through crowds before? It was college.

Inside the private restroom, Cheryl washed her face, reapplied her makeup, and tried to fix the burned char that used to be her dress. As she brushed flecks off her bodice, the top layer tore away, revealing the red silk underlayer.

“The whole dress is destroyed.” She tried to cover the plunging neckline, displaying a tempting shadow between her swelling breasts. “Look at this.”

He licked his lips and thrummed. “Beautiful.”

“What? No. My boobs are spilling out.”

He curved an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her silk-clad curves. If she wanted to see boobs spilling out, he was more than happy to oblige her.

“What are you—”

“Giving in to my craving.”

“Huh? I’m indecent.”

“You’re mesmerizing.”

She blinked, and then warmth softened her features.

He bent his head to secure her, indulging in his need for her kiss.

She allowed him a swift brush of lips. He tilted his head to deepen their connection.

She broke free. “Give me ten minutes.”

Yes, she wasn’t rejecting him. Just delaying until after the art show. Determination fixed her brow.

He approved.

She took a good hard look at herself in the mirror and then she tore the skirt. Red silk fluttered in the bathroom light. Now, instead of wearing a black dress with red flashes, she was wearing an eye-catching scarlet dress with black accents. Cheryl used one of the black panels like a kerchief to put up her hair.

“You look like a vintage pinup,” he said, identifying her style.

She studied herself in the mirror as though seeing herself for the first time. A small, satisfied smile curved her lips. “Yeah.”

He still had no clothes.

She rested her hand on the door handle. Her glossy lips quirked. “We can’t have a naked dragon running around. No one would pay attention to the artwork. Stay here.”

A few moments later, she knocked on the door and gave him her puffy winter trench coat. It was short and tight. His shoulders overwhelmed the fabric, revealing a wide swath of chest down to his navel. The buttons fastened around his narrow waist, giving him a weird, mid-thigh skirt.

“Well, you sort of look like a European model.” She snorted back her amusement. They exited the bathroom and headed to the art gallery. “But you’re decent enough for an art school, and my mom’s not coming any—”

“Cheryl?”

They turned.

A middle-aged woman pivoted in the hallway as if she’d been leaving and caught a glimpse of them from the corner of her eye. Her questioning brow relaxed with relief as she recognized Cheryl. She was thinner and her eyes look sunken from exhaustion and red from…crying?

“Mom.” Cheryl swallowed hard. “You came.”

“I just… I couldn’t miss the last art show.” She gripped the frayed handle of a brown leather purse with both hands. Her cheeks stained pink like her daughter’s. “The one you’ve worked so hard for. I saw your pictures.”

“You saw my pinup dragons?”

“They’re beautiful. The best ones you’ve ever done.”

Cheryl ran and hugged her mom. Her mom’s eyes squeezed tight, and her chin trembled like she was trying not to cry.

Mal stood back, guarding them until they completed their hug.

Finally, Chery’s mother drew back. She stroked her daughter’s cheek. “I think you’re still just a baby, you know.”

“Soon you will think that about your grand dragonlet,” Mal announced.

Cheryl’s mother blinked and looked over at him. “Oh. Is he or she arriving anytime soon?”

Cheryl started to shake her head.

“Yes,” Mal said. “Cheryl is carrying ours right now.”

Cheryl flashed a grimace.

Why would she not tell her mother immediately? This was fantastic news. Every grand dragon dreamed about her grand dragonlets.

Cheryl’s mother turned to Cheryl, then to Mal, and then back to Cheryl again. “Um… Uh… Wow, I don’t know what to say.”

“Congratulations,” he prompted.

“Right.” She touched her brow, trying to smile but failing. “I wasn’t prepared for this so, uh, suddenly.”

“We’ve been working very hard to make it so,” Mal said.

Her mother’s chin dropped. “Uh. I see. Oh.”

“Mal!” Cheryl gestured with her palm down to quiet him.

Ah. This was an important thing he was supposed to pay attention to. “You wish me to stop talking.”

“Yes! Let her process.”

He waited as instructed. See? Amber would be proud of him and Cheryl too. Already he was listening.

Cheryl’s mother shook herself and laughed. “God, Cheryl, how long have I been out of it?”

“No, it is really sudden,” she said. “It’s fine. You’re not out of it at all.”

“Great. Okay. You’re pregnant and you’re, um, getting married tomorrow?”

“In the human way,” Mal affirmed. “We must present our dragonlet on the first birthday to my mother for recognition of the dragon ceremony.”

She nodded, still struggling to come to grips with everything. “Well, um, Mal. Was it? Yes, Mal, why don’t I treat you both to a wedding rehearsal dinner? I can get to know you, find out more of what you do, you know.” She laughed awkwardly. It sounded just like Cheryl.

“We would love that,” Cheryl said.

“Great. Let’s—”

“Oh, just a sec.” She let go of her mother’s hands and edged to the gallery doorway. “I have to go give myself an A on my self-assessment. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Mal watched her walk into the gallery. The dragon in him intended to stalk after her, but she’d instructed him to remain with her mother. He was still close enough to protect her, and he could obey her instruction to make her happy.

Cheryl’s mother averted her eyes. Shy, just like Cheryl.

He introduced himself more formally. “You asked what I do. I am the CEO of the Onyx Corporation. We are a company trading in luxuries and clothing and have reached second on the Outer Planet Rank List.” Perhaps now they were even first. He trusted his siblings to have defeated the Empress’s adviser the same way he’d defeated Sard. “In your American dollars, our corporation is worth approximately sixty billion.”

“B-billion?” Cheryl’s mother stared at him. “You are?”

“And Cheryl also,” he said. “She is a significant stock holder. Soon we’ll start a new company and she will hold the highest position.”

She covered her head. “Oh my God.”

Cheryl emerged from the gallery with a satisfied look on her face that changed to concern. “What happened?”

“I told your mother the truth,” he said since her accusation seemed directed at him. “That you would hold the highest and most important position in our new company: art director.”

She relaxed. “Oh. Cool.”

“I was thinking maybe I shouldn’t treat for dinner.” Her mother still held her head. “You’re worth sixty billion dollars.”

“Not until tomorrow.” Cheryl hugged her mom. “So you better do it now while I’m still worth just myself.”

Morning light glimmered into the bedroom. Cheryl rolled over on the cool sheets beside her.

Empty bed.

Dammit, Mal. He’d promised to be in bed next to her when she awoke for a hundred years. Only yesterday, on the rescue flight back from Sard Carnelian’s, he’d promised. How fast could a guy forget?

Just when she thought he might finally listen to her—

The bed creaked.

She rolled to face the other side.

He was easing one bare foot into the bed. He stopped. “Was it the right timing? You rolled, so I thought you were awakening.”

Wait. So, he was trying to wake up beside her after all?

But he’d gotten up. Instead of being deliciously naked, he wore a white suit. Behind him was a bucket of ice with champagne flutes, a vase of long-stemmed red roses, and a violin.

She sat up. “You were waiting for me to wake up so you could crawl into bed next to me?”

Her powerful dragon CEO nodded. “I swore a vow.”

Mal’s sweetness threatened to overwhelm her.

She swallowed. “For future reference, I meant that I wanted you to be in bed with me so you’re already here when I wake up.”

“You want me to remain in bed with you?” He calculated. “I understand. I will make arrangements.”

Arrangements? What the heck could those be? Hmm. Did she want to know?

Nah.

She dragged her gorgeous male under the covers and wrapped her arms around him. Clarification could wait. His startled then happy thrum was necessary now.

“Good morning.” She nuzzled his rough jaw. “Happy wedding day.”

He covered her mouth with a kiss.

Desire for him throbbed.

Last night, they’d stayed with her mom late. Her mom had taken them out to their favorite diner, Pig in a Poke, and cried over a bottle of cheap table wine at how quickly time passed. She tried to tell Cheryl she was too young to join her in drinking and cried even harder when Cheryl reminded her she’d been legal for half a year already, and her mom had never scheduled the time to take her out for a big birthday.

“I’ll take more time with your baby,” she’d wailed. “I swear.”

Cheryl didn’t drink anyway because, you know, baby on board. Then exhaustion made her fall asleep last night before Mal got out of the shower.

And now it was her wedding morning. She hadn’t seen Mal since their crazy passionate quickie in this bed over a week ago. She needed him now.

Cheryl opened her mouth to take command.

His lips covered hers, and his tongue plumbed her needy depths. Each stroke heated her center. He knew just what she wanted. She moaned and arched her back. Her breasts pressed against his chest.

“Cheryl,” he murmured between kisses, “you’re making me forget what I came in here for.”

“You came in here to remind me how hot you are,” she said.

He growled low. “I was a normal temperature.”

“You can’t prove it to me.” She dragged his hand to her breast.

He cupped her soft flesh, sending sizzles to her throbbing center. Today was a day of joy. She wanted to start right.

As though he’d heard her wishes, he gave in. Stripping off her lacy white nightgown, he trailed hot kisses down to her breast. Pleasure streaked to her center. She gasped. He sucked her in, lapping and tasting, and took the pleasure to her other nipple. She writhed.

He licked and sucked down her soft belly, over the curve of her mons, to the sensitive wetness between her trembling thighs. As he tasted her, the ache for him grew.

“Mal.” She pulled him up, undid his trousers, and yanked them off.

He hesitated at her entrance, rock-hard and ready.

She stopped him. “I want to see your wings.”

“Now?” Before she could answer, he flexed. His shirt peeled off in shreds, and so did his suit jacket.

Oops. Next time, she’d tell him to take off his expensive suit first.

Gossamer spread across the room like twin sails, see-through and beautiful. They weren’t feathered like angel wings or leathery like a bat’s. They were coated in translucent scales, sparkling and magical.

“Do you want me to transform the rest of the way?” he asked.

“No.” She stroked the feather-soft skin. “Your wings are amazing. I didn’t get a good look yesterday because of the fire. And before that, you wouldn’t show me.”

“They bruise easily and only give a small increase in speed, so males don’t often reveal them. And they are sensitive. Your touch feels like… I can’t describe.” He shuddered.

She felt the same way.

Everything about Mal was beautiful. How could someone amazing like him love someone ordinary like her? But he did, and she finally believed it. She saw the love in his eyes and felt the matching emotion growing in her heart.

She left the fragile wings and stroked the hard muscles of his back to his tapered waist. Here, she didn’t have to be careful. She grabbed a hunk of his gorgeous backside. “Make us one.”

He pressed his hard length into her slick channel. His cock filled her deliciously, uniting them in a primal way. It was so good. He grunted and thrust sweetly. Only he existed in the world. She tangled her legs around his, urging him faster.

His wings seemed to echo her hunger, heightening his groans and taking her to new peaks of desire.

He slid an arm around the small of her back and tilted her hips to take him deep. She arched. He thrust into her secret spot, and she saw the stars.

“You are mine,” he growled. His body owned hers, wringing incredible pleasure from her. “Mine!”

And he was hers too. She clenched her thighs around his waist and rode him to the breaking point. Passion burst out and tingled with soul shattering release. He felt her climax and roared his own. Together, they created life once more.

She dropped to the bed, satisfied. He floated on top of her, pressing her into the bed, and stroked her cheek.

The room came back into focus. Cheryl noticed one difference. “Your wings are gone.”

“They get in the way.” He eased free of her and sat up.

She sat up as well. “You shredded your wedding tux. You’ll have to speak your vows shirtless.”

“I can do that. Come here.” He swung her onto the chair next to the roses and champagne-like green bottle.

She giggled and reached for the flutes. Was that sparkling cider? “I thought this would be tomorrow’s wake-up.”

“I can do it again.” He found his abandoned trousers, fished in the pocket, and emerged with a small black box. Returning to her, he knelt. “Cheryl.”

“You’re proposing?” she squeaked. “On our wedding day?”

“It’s better late than never.”

She didn’t know whether to jump up and down or punch him. “Who told you that?”

“Darcy.”

Her heart thumped hard. Oh my God. He was seriously proposing.

“Cheryl, before I met you, I believed that I must provide material goods to secure a female’s loyalty. But you have never asked me for material goods. You’ve only asked me for my time.”

His jaw tightened. He seemed to swallow hard.

“I was afraid to give you that time. Especially before I became a number one ranked company. But earning that honor yesterday after your rescue didn’t calm the fears in my heart. It made them worse. You are precious to me. If you ever found me lacking, I don’t think I would survive.”

She shook her head. Her beautiful, strong dragon was undone by, of all people, her. It was too incredible.

“Your devotion has awakened me to the truth. My rank does not matter. Material goods are not what I need. Time together is what matters. Time with my family. Time with you.”

He opened the box. A sparkling diamond ring nestled inside.

Mal lifted the box to her. “Will you marry me?”

“Gah!” She went with hugging him. “Of course I will. You’re not supposed to make me cry until after the wedding. It turns my nose red.”

“I don’t wish you to cry at all.”

She hugged the gorgeous, sweet, thoughtful dragon shifter who was trying to fix his previous proposal and make this one right.

Then she drank her nonalcoholic sparkling cider, took a shower surrounded by rose blossoms, and put on her wedding dress. Mal flew her to the courthouse, and they were married in a short quiet ceremony in a small, official courtroom, witnessed by only her mom and Mal’s siblings.

Even that was too many people for her. Cheryl got so nervous, she signed on Mal’s line instead of hers.

Jasper’s commemorative picture captured the event for all eternity. Mal, shirtless, looked pleased with the wedding, and Cheryl, in a subdued cream wedding dress, clapped a hand over her mouth in horror at the discovery of her mistake.

“We have to take better pictures,” she said. They all trailed out of the courthouse and into the bright sunny Thursday. “Maybe at our real wedding.”

Mal blinked. “There are more weddings?”

“Oh, in this case, we could. And then there are vow renewal ceremonies.”

“Why must you renew vows?”

“To deepen our commitment.”

He drew her into his bare arms. “Then we’ll renew our vows every day.”

“I think you’re imagining a different kind of renewal than I—eeeee!”

He launched them into the air. She clung on. Her wedding dress streamed behind her.

The Onyx Corporation office was only a short hop away. As they walked through the glass doors and crossed the lobby, passing reception, Jeanine handed out messages.

“Your mother’s on line two,” she told Mal in her throaty, no-nonsense voice.

“Summon my siblings. We’ll take the call in Cheryl’s office,” he said.

Wait a minute. She lifted her gown and shuffled after his arrogant, floor-eating stride to the elevator. “I told you I didn’t want that big office.”

“You did.” The elevator rose to their floor, and the doors opened. He ignored the executive suite and led her to his office. “I listened.”

A new wall divided Mal’s CEO office down the middle.

He strode to the rough doorway between sections. “I got the idea from your one-bedroom. Your side will be finished by the time we return from our honeymoon.”

So, knowing she felt uncomfortable in the matriarch office, he’d carved a space out of his own office for her. The unfinished walls had wiring everywhere. He pointed out where her wall screen and intercom and tablet station would go.

“You halved your office space,” she said, touched. “Is that okay? You’re the CEO.”

“It’s still the largest office,” he assured her. “And the acoustics are better for roaring.”

She swayed to him. He hadn’t been as growly since taking his aggression out on Sard. Perhaps he finally knew how much she loved him.

His green eyes glimmered with promise. She melted into his embrace. His lips descended to cover hers.

The wall screen on Cheryl’s unfinished office wall made a crackling noise.

They jolted apart.

A large gold dragon stared regally from the screen. “Malachite? Your receptionist forced me to call back. You didn’t reply to my summons.”

“I was getting married.” His arm around Cheryl’s waist tightened. “This is my wife, Cheryl.”

The dragon lady regarded her with beady skepticism. “Hmm. Then she is a human.”

“Very much so.” He kept his hard grip on her. Tense, just like she was, and trying not to show it.

Cheryl endured his mother’s scrutiny through the crackly screen. The interference only made it worse because it sounded like she was growling. What must his mother be thinking? Was Cheryl good enough for her son? Was this how everything ended?

“I suppose you must bring her to the estate,” his mother said fiercely. “I will judge whether she is worthy to succeed me as the matriarch of the family.”

Mal relaxed.

Wait. Cheryl pinched Mal’s arm. Wasn’t Amber taking over? Why was Cheryl at risk?

He’d better explain this to her later.

The dragon’s jeweled gold eyes flicked beyond Mal. “Where are your brothers and sister?”

“They’re coming.” He glanced over his shoulder.

The rest of his siblings spilled into his office, tumbling over each other, and then each straightened and lifted their heads and entered her unfinished smaller office.

Their mother gazed imperiously over her brood. “Where are my grand dragonlets? Any of you?”

They shifted uncomfortably.

The mother’s scaly lips flattened. “I see. Running a company is a distraction from your true duty to give me dragonlets. Therefore, I am recalling all of you—except Mal, of course—to marry a Draconis—”

“Cheryl is carrying a dragonlet right now,” Amber said swiftly. “She will give birth in a few months. Right? Cheryl?”

Cheryl nodded. She would dive under the dragonlet bus for them. “Please don’t force everyone to separate.”

“Oh.” The mother’s eyes lit. “I see. Then the rest of you will remain on Earth. I recall only Mal at this time.”

Cheryl gripped Mal’s hand. “Only him?”

“You will come too. Leave immediately. I must tell you all of my dragonlet-raising tips.” She hesitated. “Don’t eat brimstone candy. It has a powerful, dare I say, fiery acid reflux, and the taste lingers for months.”

With that, she signed off.

The others all sighed and relaxed.

Well, no wonder. They could stay here while Cheryl crossed the universe to meet her new mother-in-law: a literal dragon lady.

Mal squeezed Cheryl’s hand and tugged her to his warm chest, comforting her even though she hadn’t said anything. He knew her so well. And now they would have the rest of their lives to get to know each other even better.

“We did it.” Amber made a small smile. “Good luck on your trip. How long will you be gone?”

“I have budgeted two weeks.”

Amber blinked. “You’ll miss the sale of the company and our decision of what to do next.”

“We are number one.” His lips curled with satisfaction. “You will decide our next business without me. I trust you will work together well.”

Amber relaxed her shoulders and smiled.

“Is it really okay?” Cheryl asked him in his ear. Where the heck was her growly, control-freak husband? “You’ll miss everything.”

“For a honeymoon, two weeks is traditional.”

He was giving up control of the family business to spend more time with her. Her heart melted, and she squeezed him. She was finally coming first.

“Alex, Jasper, that was swift thinking to offer the Empress Cheryl’s extra prints. The adviser had no choice but to convey our offer to her, making her aware of the situation. And Amber, you sent her lingerie?”

Cheryl stopped. “You sent a head of state lingerie?”

Amber nodded. “I promised it would convince a dragon male to go into an insatiable mating frenzy as soon as she put it on. Together, those promises made her allow us to open our stores. There is clearly a male she wishes to attract.”

“Not one of us? Great.” Pyro cracked his knuckles. “I’m gathering some girls to hit the beach.”

Alex sighed and made a notation on a piece of paper. He was anticipating having to bail Pyro out of jail in a few days. “Where are you starting, Pyro? The Oregon Coast?”

“Fiji.”

The wall screen returned to life and showed their mother once more. “One more thing. Pyrochlore? Where is your wife?”

His cocky smile was wiped away. “What?”

“I need dragonlets. You will provide me with them, or else you will be returning to Draconis in two weeks. Empress Horribus has relinquished her interest in Mal now he’s married, but her claw awaits an Onyx mate.”

She signed off.

Pyro drained to white. “Mal. One dragonlet was supposed to be enough.”

“Obviously not.”

“Quick, what’s your secret?”

“Marry the woman you love.” He drew Cheryl into his arms. “She’ll be right under your snout and you won’t even know it.”

“There are no women under my snout.” He grabbed Jasper in a panic. “You have to hire more humans!”

“No.”

“I’m the vice president! I order you.”

Jasper straightened his suit. “Hiring humans we don’t need doesn’t make sound operational sense.”

Alex spoke from the doorway. “Mal and Cheryl, a ship is ready to convey you to the Draconis home system now.”

Mal squeezed her and started for the door.

“Now?” She held him in place. “I can’t leave now. I have to walk at graduation tonight.”

His brows drew down. “My mother won’t wait.”

“I’ve been working hard for four years and my mother’s going to be in the audience, so yes, she will.”

“Don’t risk her good will so soon in our relationship.”

“It’s important.”

He growled low in his throat. “Cheryl, we don’t have time for this.”

“We’ve been married for two hours and now you don’t have time for me?” She crossed her arms. “Make time.”

The rest of his siblings watched, nervous.

He roared. “You will join me on Draconis!”

“Yeah,” she snapped. “And we’re leaving as soon as possible. Which is tonight, at approximately ten p.m., after I walk at graduation.”

He snarled his reply.

She didn’t back down. Hey, she’d worked for it. This graduation was four years in the making. It was her last time to see her mom for two weeks. Nothing he said would talk her out of it.

He stopped snarling and yanked her into his arms. “You are just so…so…”

“Unreasonable?” she asked. “Uncontrollable? Irresistible?”

“…so Cheryl,” he declared, and covered her mouth with his demanding kiss.