Freezing December wind shook the pet salon windows like an angry spirit trying to break in.

But it couldn't compete with the festive tunes coming from inside the salon.

“Two days before Christmas my true love gave to me…” pet groomer Karmel sang. “A super cute and fluffy corgi.”

The happily panting pup, Rose Pudge, shook her freshly dried ruff.

Karmel hummed as she tied a bright red-striped bow on the collar and wheeled the grooming station in front of the motion-sensor camera. She squeezed the dog and silently counted to three. “Smile, Rose.”

“Woof!”

Click.

The pet salon’s camera posted their selfie to the Instagram account.

Karmel wheeled the grooming pedestal out of the flash-zone and rubbed the well-named, pudgy dog. “What a good girl. Let’s go find your owner.”

Rose Pudge jumped off the grooming pedestal and pranced to the lobby.

Her owner Olivia, a reed-thin elementary-aged girl with red fingernails and a matching velvet holiday dress, cooed over her pup. “Rose Pudge is clean! Thank you so much, Miss Karmel.”

“You’re welcome.” Karmel unlocked the glass door. Ice-crusted air swirled into the salon and made her shiver. “Next time, keep Rose Pudge inside the day of your party so you don’t have an after-hours emergency.”

“I will. Thank you!” Olivia hopped across the greasy, gray sidewalk slush. Her pup’s polished claws scrabbled the dark pavement.

“I’ll bill your account!” Karmel waved. “Happy Howlidays from Pleased Puppers Pet Salon!”

The girl waved back. They disappeared into the back seat of an old Lincoln parked under a street lamp.

Karmel locked the door again. She ran a hand through her hair. Her chipped nails tangled in her riotous brown curls. Oil, she would oil her hair again and tame it before going out. That way, she’d looked like she’d put in an effort to meet—

Oh, god. What time was it?

The clock above the cash register chimed six.

Karmel swore. She was so late!

But she couldn’t just leave. Less than six months into her dream job, she had to prove she was the most responsible groomer, especially since her plan to prove she was ready for a promotion had failed spectacularly this morning.

She hurried through the grooming suite, grabbed the broom and dustpan, and finished her clean up. Done. Yanking the strings of her apron, she stowed it in her cubby and double-checked the closing procedures. She’d started them when the Corgi had shown up covered in turkey grease and flour.

“It’s an emergency,” the poor girl had cried. “She got outside into the garbage cans and Gran won’t let me take her to the Christmas party. And I can’t leave her. She’s my best friend.”

“I understand,” Karmel had said, heart sinking as the girl’s tears had dried. “We can’t separate best friends at Christmas.”

And she’d capped up her travel mug—which was decorated with a worn Santa Claus face although it got year-round use—and hurried into the grooming suite in her green wreathe leggings. Her sleigh bell earrings jangling with cheer.

Although she didn’t feel cheerful. Not when she knew she’d be late.

The male she was meeting already did not approve of her. But Karmel was the best person to answer his research questions. His boss needed to know the meaning of Christmas. He’d promised a big donation to her favorite pet rescue to meet him tonight, so she’d crammed him into a schedule already creaking at the seams.

Speaking of seams… No time to change now. She tucked loose threads from the faux-fur muffs into her holly berry-red dress sleeves.

Pet salon owner Monica had been the first to compliment Karmel’s everyday Santa fashion when December arrived. Like a broken clock, once a year Karmel’s elfin hats, holly earrings, and red-and-green wardrobe fillers were in style.

If she could ever consider a bunch of well-worn thrift shop finds stylish.

Especially to a male who worked at a fashion design company.

So long as he was still waiting for her…

She locked up the cash register, unplugged the gleaming lights, and jammed her travel Santa mug in her overstuffed purse. Karmel passed in front of the motion-sensor camera.

Click.

She tackled the chunky camera frame. Where was the power button? Oops, her photo of an arm-half-jammed-in-her-coat-sleeve was uploaded to Instagram. The salon’s followers would discover a disheveled employee sandwiched between their favorite floofy pups.

There was the power button! She fumbled to flip it—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Karmel jumped.

An older, well-dressed woman rapped on the glass door. “You in there? Hey! You in there!”

She walked away from the still-on camera and checked—the Open sign was dark, as were the front shop lights—and she approached the glass to point at the hours decal. “We’re closed.”

“Let me in. I need to talk to you.”

“Come back on Friday.”

“Are you going to make an old woman—one of your customers—suffer in the cold?”

She was so tempted to say yes.

The woman saw it. She banged. “I want to speak with your manager!”

“She’s not here.”

“You let me in right now!”

Karmel cinched her coat around her waist and shouldered her purse. Then she turned the key and cracked the door. “Please, ma’am, we’re—”

“I have a dispute and you need to resolve it.” The woman pushed her way in and stood in the lobby’s center with her arms crossed, her mouth pinched in anger. “You told Olivia you put a grooming ‘on her bill.’ She’s a child. She doesn’t have ‘a bill.’”

Deep breath. “No, but Rose Pudge is a valued customer of Pleased Puppers Pet Salon, so we’ll catch up at her next appointment.”

“Now, you didn’t tell me that when I dropped her off.”

“You didn’t come into the salon.”

“So, you can’t enter into a business contract with a child. You should be ashamed of yourself for making a child a debtor over a bath.”

It had been more than a bath.

“It’s fine,” Karmel assured her, easing toward the door. “She’s not in debt. Her parents bring Rose Pudge all the—”

“Don’t you dare bring this to her parents. You’re the one who made the mistake. I want it stricken from the record.”

“Stricken from the record?”

“You take your fraudulent fee off her record right this instant or I will report you to the Better Business Bureau.”

Karmel didn’t think she was in the wrong. Monica had a good relationship with her clients, including Rose Pudge’s owners, and handled all unusual circumstances.

She also didn’t want a complaint. “I can’t—”

“Where’s your sense of charity? It’s Christmas. Don’t be selfish. You need to give this grooming for free because that’s the charitable thing to do.”

Karmel’s jaw dropped. “I’m sorry?”

“I said don’t be selfish. Your sign next to the door says you give charity. I don’t see you giving me charity.”

Karmel turned to follow her gaze to the sign. A happy dog in a bright red doghouse was adorned with a Santa hat.

Her jaw closed with a click. Now she was mad. “Yes, we accept donations for ‘Home for the Howlidays,’ a multi-shelter mission to find every rescued pet their ‘forever home’ before the New Year. It’s something I organized. Would you like to donate? On top of your payment for Rose Pudge’s grooming.”

The woman stared at her. “So you’re not giving me the grooming for free?”

“No.” Karmel’s heart thudded hard. “And if you have a problem with that, you call the owner. Her number is on our cards.”

“You can’t get treat me like this. I’m a customer.”

“And we’re closed.” Karmel held the door open.

Icy December air gusted in.

The woman made no move to leave. She didn’t even look cold in her open-toe white high heels and navy blue pants suit. Her gray hair was curled up as if she’d paid her own visit to a classy salon. She looked normal but the inflexible jut of her chin said otherwise.

“Please leave,” Karmel said stiffly.

“I’m not going anywhere until you fix your mistake.”

“I can’t do anything. You need to talk to the owner.”

The woman’s lips twitched like she’d won. “So call her. I’ll wait.”

“Ma’am—”

“What’s the matter? You don’t want your boss to find out your customer disservice two days before Christmas?”

“No, I have a prior appointment.”

“You’re not getting rid of me with lies.”

“I do.”

“Who’s this ‘other appointment’ that’s so much more important than your job?”

A dangerous male voice answered from the street behind Karmel. “Me.”

A delicious shiver ran up her back.

Peridot.

He strode into the pet salon and owned it. The lobby felt like it stretched to accommodate his form.

Six feet of implacable male filled a tailored suit. Fine loafers. Shiny gold Rolex. On his head, perfectly styled blond hair. Hard jaw. Glittering green eyes.

And, if his human form wasn’t intimidating enough, he could always shred his clothes and shapeshift into a clawing, biting, scaly dragon.

Peridot stood beside Karmel. His tone, like his gaze, could fracture ice. “Your business closed long ago.”

“I know. Sorry. It’s a long story. After the last person leaves, I can lock up.” She glared at the problem.

Peridot’s gaze turned on the woman like a laser.

She twitched. “Are you her manager?”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving until I talk to a manager.”

He strode around the argumentative customer, turned, and formed a wall with his implacable chest. “Leave.”

She stepped back, toward the door. “Are you threatening me?”

“Not yet.”

“I-I’ll call the police!”

He leaned forward. Curling his lips in the facsimile of a smile made him look even colder. “Good.”

The older woman gasped. “You can’t talk to me like that.” She backed over the threshold.

Peridot stalked her onto the sidewalk.

Clear. Finally.

Karmel stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her. The lock clicked.

The older woman ruffled herself. “How dare you? You won’t get away with this. I’ll have you fired!”

“Happy Howlidays,” Karmel told her vindictively and turned on her heel.

“I’ll ruin your Yelp page. You’re getting zero stars!” The older woman stomped down the street and entered the Lincoln. It squealed away.

She and Peridot were alone on the darkened sidewalk haloed by fogged-in streetlight.

Karmel’s heart should have calmed, but it thudded even harder. “Well, uh, should we go?”

“Go?”

“To dinner. Your reservation. I’m supposed to tell you how to ‘get in the Christmas spirit’ over drinks and—”

“Canceled.”

Oh.

Dear.

She was late. She was a mess. She’d fought with a customer. And she’d made him miss their reservation. All the worst ways Peridot could see her, he was seeing her. As usual.

He turned and walked away.

“Wait!”

He paused.

She cleared the lump in her throat. Her hands shook with residual stress from fighting with the woman. “I’m sorry. About everything. It’s been a long day. Can we reschedule?”

He half-turned. Street lamps haloed his profile, masking his expression in silhouette, but his tone was slightly surprised. “Reschedule?”

“Now. If you want. If it’s not… If you want.”

“Now you are not available.” He turned three-quarters. “You are meeting with your friend, Eva, for decorating the venue of your Holiday Charity Cookie Exchange.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” She got out her phone. There were three missed calls. From Eva. Karmel dialed and held the ringing phone to her cold cheek. Her nose was drippy.

Peridot strode away.

Karmel caught up and continued toward the downtown. “She’ll understand. She’s used to this.”

He walked abreast of her. “Eva is used to being less important and having her appointments dropped for another person?”

“Less import—what? No! That’s not—”

“Karmel?” Eva sounded out of breath. “Are you okay? Peridot called me.”

“Yes, it’s a long story. Can we get together in…?” She pulled the phone away from her ear to check the time. “…a couple hours? I’m running late.”

“Oh god, were we decorating today?”

Karmel felt a little better. “Yes. Did you forget?”

“I totally forgot.”

She glanced up at Peridot to say, See, it’s fine, but he focused forward on the spires of skyscrapers, honking cars, and growing crowds of bags-laden shoppers as they descended into downtown Portland.

“Well, the cookie exchange is tomorrow afternoon, so I thought it would be less stressful if we decorated tonight.”

“No, you’re right. Um, Karmel, I kind of also forgot to get the decorations.”

Karmel’s belly dropped. “Forgot?”

“We had finals and then Syen got the last couple days off and…” Eva trailed off.

Her stomach rolled. She did not have time for shopping and Peridot. “Can you go get them now?”

“Bargains-R-Us is closed. The other megastores will be packed. And, er, I’m not in the country right now.”

“Where are you?”

“Australia.”

“Australia!”

“I always wanted to see Sydney. Christmas in a bikini is a dream.”

The lump was back in her throat. “So you won’t be here? At all?”

“No, we will. Just, you know, not early.”

She made her goodbyes and hung up. Responsibilities weighed down her shoulders. Yes, organizing a cookie exchange for charity had been her idea. But her friends had encouraged her. She’d envisioned it as a fun holiday event with friends. They’d helped with flyers and planning, but one by one, her friends had dropped out. Eva was the last to go. Now it was only Karmel.

A vision of herself, alone in her apartment’s grand lobby, decorating a sad plastic tree at midnight popped into her brain. She pushed it into a dark corner. That was the future. She had to focus on the now.

She put her phone in her jacket pocket, took a deep breath, and smiled up at the male walking beside her. “Good news! I’m free after all.”

He shouldered between shoppers, clearing a path for her, and glanced back. His expression was opaque. The green in his eyes was as unfeeling as a glacier. “Eva de-prioritized you.”

“Oh, it was an honest mistake.” Karmel waved away the accuracy of his statement. “It’s the holidays. Everyone has a lot on their minds.”

Her foot slid in the oversized shoe. Her heel skidded on the icy concrete.

Peridot held out his forearm like a grab bar to help her balance.

She gripped the rock-hard muscle.

He wove through the growing crush. They stopped at the street corner before the glass-fronted skyscraper that housed the Pioneer Place Mall. On the other side of the barrier, buskers on drum and violin performed holiday carols. Overhead, festive silver garlands swung from ornate street lamps.

“There is one thing.” She released his arm, screwed up her courage, and asked. “Do you mind if we run a few errands first?”

“Yes. I mind.”

Okay. Well. That answered that.

The reflections in the garland-festooned windows showed his stern, chiseled brow and angry, clenched jaw. His perfect gray suit creased so severely it could cut someone.

“Sorry. I can shop later. I just thought it would be fun.”

“Fun?” He shook his head and looked away in disgust.

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

Peridot never wanted to do anything together. He’d only come to her now because he was desperate. His request to have dinner with her meant nothing more.

Her heart fell to the icy sidewalk and got crushed beneath the shoppers’ heavy, unfeeling boots.

Peridot’s shoulder bumped hers. His voice was low. Growly. “You do not wish to spend time with me.”

Was he reading her mind? That was how he felt about her.

She cleared her throat. “I’m worried the stores will close.”

He straightened. His full height towered over her. “I understand. Rescheduling doesn’t work. You are released.”

The light changed. He and the rest of the shoppers strode into the crosswalk.

“Just a minute.” She hurried after him, carried by the wave of humanity. “Peri—”

A heavy shopper barreled into her. Wham. She slammed on her butt in the middle of the busy intersection. Her shoe flew off. She struggled to her feet as people trampled over her. Someone stepped on her purse as she tried to pull it onto her shoulder.

Her strap broke.

Her purse upended in the crosswalk.

Lip balm, curl-taming oil, moisturizer, and antacids tumbled out. Her “appointment book” of scrap papers scrawled with dates, times, and plans fluttered away like precious snow. Her Santa travel mug hit the curb with a sickening crack.

“Oh, no!” She scrambled after it.

No one stopped. They kicked her, stumbled over her stuff, swore at her. “Get out of the way!” a harried young man snapped.

She crawled to the mall-side of the street.

The light changed. A car honked.

She clambered up on the pavement and staggered to her feet. Cars rumbled through the intersection.

Her mug rolled between the spinning wheels. It clattered toward her like a lost pet trying to reunite with its parent.

Thank goodness! She dropped to her knees and reached—

“—mel. Karmel!” Peridot was shouting for her.

Someone grabbed her shoulder and yanked her backward. The mug whiffed away from her fingertips.

A horn blared. A coupe whizzed in front of her nose. Her travel mug disappeared under its tire. It shattered. Icy mist sprayed her cheek.

Aw.

She’d had that mug since Santa Barbara. The lucky thrift shop find had always made her smile.

And thanks to her savior, she still had a face to smile with.

The hand on her shoulder was heavy—and sharp. Peridot’s hand. Green scales in light olive covered his skin. He had shifted? Only his hand and wrist up to the suit collar. And his eyes, more intense green than before, illuminated with a mix of emotions. Anger? Fear?

“I look away for one moment and you disappeared.” His tone accused. Canine fangs cleared his lips.

“I tripped.”

“You stuck your head into traffic.”

“Not on purpose. That was a special mug.”

“Not worth your life.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t thinking.” She gripped his hand on her shoulder, heaved herself up, and balanced on one foot. “That was scary.”

He let out a long, shuddering breath. “Crazy humans.”

“I’ve been called worse.” She released his arm to shove her freezing toes into her lost shoe.

Another pedestrian jostled her.

“Oof.” She wobbled off-balance.

He pulled her in. She collapsed against his hard, masculine chest.

She splayed her hand across his white shirt for balance. Her fingers picked out every divot and flex of the muscle rippling beneath the silk.

Oh. Wow.

He smelled like musk and under-the-sheets sex.

Her belly pinged with awareness.

She wanted to melt against him and trace his rough jaw with her tongue.

As though he sensed her thoughts, his breath stopped. His green eyes focused on her, fathomless emerald depths, and his jaw clenched.

She needed to nibble the enticing shadow of stubble. He was such a male, and he made her feel like a woman.

He held her for a minute too long. His nostrils flared as though he was scenting her arousal.

She wet her lips. “Peridot?”

He did not answer. His gaze dropped to her lips.

And then, he pushed her back stiffly. “Excuse me.”

“S-sure.” She tugged down her coat and dress and pulled up her leggings. Icy sludge soaked her socks. Her purse dangled from its shredded strap. A total loss.

His knuckles flexed and his hand shimmered. Green scales receded to normal, human skin. He refocused on her. “Do not commit suicide over a small drink vessel.”

“No. I didn’t mean to. Sorry for making you worry.”

He harrumphed. “Please exercise greater self-control.”

She was a mess. Not even a hot mess. Out here, in her threadbare, ice-grimed dress and leggings, she was getting colder and colder.

Peridot recovered. “Before you disappeared, you were speaking of fun.”

“Oh. Yes.” She held her large purse—now a clutch—under one arm and rummaged in what remained. “Shopping together is more fun.”

“And less efficient,” he pointed out. “And more stressful.”

But his tone had changed. Warmer, again. Saving her life had made him more invested? Or he was afraid to leave her on her own. Either worked in her favor.

“I promise there will be no more stress,” she pressed and immediately hit good luck. “Look! Here’s my decoration list. It survived the Great Purse Disaster. It’s a sign that we’re supposed to go decorations shopping together.”

He stared at the paper scrap she waved in his skeptical face.

“We’ll have a great time. See the sights. I’ll tell you all about my favorite time of year. Don’t look so grim! Nothing else can possibly go wrong.”

A gust of wind tore her shopping list out of her hand. The scrap sailed high in the air. They both watched it fly away.

Peridot’s flat lips somehow grew even flatter. “Let me guess. You need that?”

She forced a full-teeth grin. “Maybe it will fall down?”

Twenty feet up, it flapped against a second-floor window. And stuck.

“Uh… Yeah, I do kind of need that.”

One moment he was standing beside her and the next he was rising into the air like a superhero. The crowd of holiday shoppers gasped and stared.

“Dragon alien,” one of them said to her friend. “Look. It’s a dragon alien.”

Five years ago, a couple of movie-like UFOs appeared over Earth. Karmel, along with everybody else, suddenly learned that they were very not alone in the universe.

Their “discoverers” were a race of aliens who could fly. They could also shift between human and dragon forms. The dragon form was straight out of a medieval European heraldic scroll, which made sense because the dragon aliens had first surveyed Earth a couple centuries ago. Earth was on the edge of the Dragon Empire and had been ignored as a backwater.

Peridot collected the shopping list and descended to Karmel’s side. He handed her the list. “If it’s important, don’t lose it.”

“No. Thank you.” She gripped it. “So, shall we go?”

He checked his Rolex.

“You can see how other stores get into the Christmas spirit,” she babbled. “Nothing’s more traditional than panicked, last-minute shopping. I’ll even buy you a coffee. What do you say?”

His blond brows lifted. “You really think shopping with me will be ‘fun’?”

“Oh, everything’s more fun when you do it with a friend.”

He blinked. “Eva is not here.”

“So?”

He frowned at her list.

Wait. Ohhh. She coughed. Okay, so, he didn’t consider them friends.

“I meant acquaintances. Work friends. People who are friends because their friends are dating. Coming?”

“Fine.” With a glare over his shoulder, highlighting his perfect chiseled profile, Peridot waded after her into the crowds.

His annoyance stung. It always did.

But that was okay. This was a challenge.

Peridot was her current unrequited crush. Nobody was further out of her reach than this perfectly controlled, well-organized, flawless dragon alien.

Her impossible task was to drag him, probably kicking and screaming, into the camp of people who loved blinking holiday lights, glittering tinsel, and eggnog.

She had one night.

Karmel vowed to put him in the holiday spirit even if it killed her.

Even if it killed both of them.

Karmel’s scent filled Peridot with hot, hard longing. He lifted his head and turned away his nose.

Crowds of humans crushed him closer as they funneled toward the tall glass doors of the mall. He used all his strength to keep from touching her.

But he inhaled.

Heaven. Intoxication. Hunger.

What was her scent? He shuffled forward, fighting his urges to lean into her curly mop and breathe her in. Sweet and spicy. Cinnamon? And sugar. And something else. Lush female.

He wanted to chase that scent to its source. Sink in his teeth.

And his cock.

But she hated Peridot.

She must. She’d dismissed their meeting for a disliked customer. He’d waited over an hour before contacting his close coworker, Syenite, and sending Syenite’s female Eva into a panic. Now Karmel was taking him on “errands.” Avoiding him.

She had not looked forward to meeting him.

Not the way he’d anticipated seeing her.

She glanced over her shoulder.

He averted his gaze.

“Don’t be mad,” she murmured. “You’ll have fun. I promise.”

A human’s words rarely matched their true feelings. Peridot had learned that lesson even before he’d stepped off the spaceship onto Earth soil.

Dragons always spoke the truth. It was a legacy from the era when translation devices were less advanced. Everyone had to speak plainly or risk war.

Humans lied constantly. They called it “being polite.”

“I’m so glad you came.” She raised her voice above the overhead music as she passed through the glass doors.

Karmel was very, very polite.

He could not match her “politeness” so he remained silent.

“Look at that snowscape. There’s a whole fake ski scene in the Sporting Store on the fourth floor. And a check out those giant shining Christmas bells.” She looked back at him. Her brows drew together.

Worry. Again.

Karmel’s too-large shoes scuffed the flat ground. “Um, and over to our left, the store is passing out candy canes.” Then, she tripped.

His heart launched into his throat.

Not again!

She wobbled, caught herself, and laughed. A rich laugh that made his groin clench.

“Sorry. Moving on. You can get photos taken with Santa on the bottom floor.” She resumed her off-balance, shuffling walk as though hobbling herself with ill-fitting footwear was normal. “Does any of this sound interesting? We can go straight there first.”

Peridot fought his reaction to wrap Karmel in his arms and never let her go.

Accidents were dangerous. He knew that better than anyone.

But she seemed to dare fate to hurt her. Karmel hummed along with the holiday music as she wove between shoppers, her lush hips swinging as she strolled. “No? Nowhere?”

Peridot shortened his distance, keeping the delectable, sugar-and-cinnamon-scented female close enough to rescue from another tumble, yet far enough away to keep his unwelcome desires in check.

“Maybe your blood sugar is low.” She hopped on the down escalator. “We’ll get coffee first.”

He stepped onto the escalator behind her and listened to her cheery chatter. Fake icicles floated in the mall’s center.

The tag on her threadbare dress curled up above the collar of her wool coat, tickling the back of her neck.

It took all his will not to reach over and tuck it in.

Because if he did, he might not be able to stop himself from caressing her slender neck. And then tasting her delicate skin.

With his teeth.

She hopped off the escalator and swerved toward a busy coffee shop. The line stretched out of the red-frilled doorway. She stepped to the end, craned her neck inside, and sighed. “This might take a minute.”

He checked his human wristwatch.

She bit her lip. “What coffee do you normally get?”

“Water.”

“You don’t like coffee?”

“I have never tasted this human liquid.”

“Never!” Her mouth pooched. “Is this your first visit to a coffee shop?”

He nodded.

“But this is Portland! Land of microbrews and DIY roasters. Well, you’re in for a treat.” She described the different drinks. Then, she stopped and frowned. “You’re not anticipating a treat.”

“I avoid coffee shops.”

“Oh. Did you not like the smell? Or…”

A couple pushed their way out. Fresh, peppery fragrance emerged from their paper cups. It was pleasing.

The line moved forward. He and Karmel stepped inside the shop.

“The smell is … unique. Not bad. But we do not have these unnecessary varieties of food and drink on Draconis.”

She raised a brow. “Unnecessary? Well, after you try coffee, you’ll know how necessary it really is.”

“That is my fear.”

Her brows lowered. “Wait. You won’t try coffee because you’re worried about becoming addicted? Well, that’s understandable I guess. Did you prefer tea or a smoothie?”

“I do not know. I have never tasted those either.”

“Not those either… So what do you like?”

He shrugged.

“Cookies? Scones? Biscotti?” She couldn’t seem to fathom his non-response. “What do you eat?”

“Protein paste and electrolyte liquids meet all my intake needs.”

“You’ve never eaten out? Or tried any human food? Ever? Why not?”

“I avoid unnecessary stimulation.”

The other dragons had boasted. Earth isn’t bad. Human things are addictive. Foods, furnishings, females. He could have as much as he wanted. He could live comfortably in disgrace. Once you surrender, you will do anything to recapture their flavors.

He respected their warnings.

Even inhaling the addictive scents was almost too much. It had led him to try a single grain of sugar and a single drop of honey. He had had to fight cravings ever since.

And if he ever gave in to his desire to taste Karmel…

She tilted her head, evaluating him from top to bottom. “Why?”

“I cannot risk addiction to something that might be taken away.”

Her brows lifted. Warmth flushed her cheeks and soft kindness gleamed in her honey-brown eyes. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He didn’t understand. “Sad?”

“My grandma used to make this amazing Christmas cake. Moist white cake, pie filling canned from her summer raspberries, thick whipped cream center, and the whole rectangle was wrapped in vanilla fondant. She never used measuring cups or a recipe.” She sighed softly. “I’d give anything to taste that cake again.”

“So. You are sad.”

“Yes and no.” She held out her hands to illustrate. Her nails were painted alternating red and green shades. “My grandmother loved Christmas as much as I do. When she passed away, our traditions ended.” She curled her fingers into fists. “It’s hard to restart her traditions. I don’t have her cake.”

“You regret it is gone.”

“But not that I had it. That cake was one of the best memories of my life.”

“Yet it cycles in your mind as a torture.”

“Torture?” She turned and cupped his cheek. “Peridot.”

He froze into ice.

Her cool fingers stroked his hard jaw. “I’d rather hunger for one mouthful of heaven than only know tasteless paste.”

Heaven. Like her delicious scent.

Would one taste of her be worth a lifetime of hunger?

His throat convulsed. He swallowed.

Arousal gripped his cock.

Her lashes fluttered. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Her lips parted.

Wouldn’t her taste be worth it?

The question stretched. Time elongated. There was only him and her in this small coffee shop. Neither of them moved. They hovered on the edge of a precipice. A blade’s edge between question and regret.

A red-frocked employee pressed the line as he carried a sample tray. Peridot and Karmel stepped to the side and Karmel’s hand dropped.

The connection broke.

“Well, anyway.” As the employee passed, Karmel snagged two small cups. Creamy foam topped the scented coffee and a dusting of another spice—nutmeg?—dusted the foam. “This is a Pumpkin Spice Latte.”

She pressed one cup into his hand.

His fingers curled around the hot paper.

“You don’t have to drink it. I can’t tell you how to live your life. But if you have one flavored coffee during the holidays, it must be pumpkin spice.”

She tapped her cup to his. “Cheers.” She tipped the latte into her mouth, swallowed, and closed her eyes. Bliss filled her beautiful face. She sighed. “Ahhh. Today the appointments were so tight I didn’t even drink my coffee.”

The line moved forward, and she sashayed with it. “If you don’t like pumpkin spice, eggnog and gingerbread are seasonal flavors. You might try a plain Americano or espresso. Chai is also popular.”

He swirled the frothy liquid.

The rich scent of the latte filled his nose. It smelled good. Addictive. Like her.

If he tried it, he could never go back.

She bounced on her heels. The couple in front of them stepped to the counter to give their orders. “And … if you really want don’t want coffee I’ll buy you water. It’s a waste. But I’d rather get you something you like than something I like.”

A strange tingling sensation entered his chest. “You care what I like?”

“Of course!”

“Truly?”

“Absolutely. It is Christmas.”

The couple finished their orders, paid, and moved aside. Karmel stepped up next. “I’ll have a full-size Candy Cane Mocha with peppermint whipped cream and this guy will have…”

He tipped the pumpkin spice latte onto his tongue.

Creamy liquid with unusual spice. A bite of sharpness. Honey sweet.

His senses came alive. The music sounded brighter, the coffee shop warmer, the expectant smile of the cashier more interested, Karmel’s surprise more delightful.

Just as he’d feared. This coffee was dangerously addictive.

“Do you know what you want?” Karmel asked brightly.

“Yes.” He set the cup on the counter and turned his shoulder so he hemmed her in. She sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes grew wider. She rested her hands on his shirt again. “You.”

“You want me,” Karmel repeated stupidly.

Peridot’s dangerous green eyes gleamed. “Yes. I want you.”

Her heart lifted.

She’d wanted to hear those words for so long. He wanted her.

Just like she wanted him.

She dreamed to melt onto his hard body like chocolate on a peanut butter cookie. Rest her head on his broad shoulders. Wrap her thighs around his trim waist. Grab a big handful of his tight butt and just squeeze.

“…to choose.”

Karmel came out of her fantasy with an abrupt jolt. “Choose?”

“My coffee. Choose which one I should try.”

“Oh! Your coffee. Right! Right.” She backpedaled into the counter.

There was something wrong with her shoes; they’d broken outside in the fall. Her ankles wobbled and her heels hit the fake wood with a hollow thunk.

Everyone stared at her. The cashier, the people in line, Peridot.

She turned away from his sultry gaze and tried to fan herself — and think. But like an overheated dryer, her thoughts just kept spinning out of control. “Um, what were your specials again?”

“Chestnut Chai Latte.” The cashier was frazzled. The line behind them buzzed with desperate shoppers who needed sugar and caffeine to push through their last-minute nightmares.

“That,” she said. “Just get that.”

The cashier rang up the total. The baristas behind the glass case hopped. Karmel’s half-formed idea to buy cookies flew past her mind as she fumbled her wallet out to pay. She passed over her credit card— hoping it wasn’t maxed—and tried to loop her purse on her arm. The broken strap fell away, and the purse tilted.

Peridot swooped the purse away from her and secured it in the crook of his arm like a football. “I will carry it.”

She was such a mess. Her voice stuck in her throat. “Sorry. Thank you.”

The cashier returned her credit card. They moved to the pickup counter. She shuffled in her now very oversized shoes. Overhead, Burl Ives sang about having a holly, jolly Christmas and the escalator scene from Elf played on the next door electronics store’s video monitors.

She burned with embarrassment.

This wasn’t as bad as their first meeting, but it was up there.

He checked his Rolex.

Suddenly it felt like they’d been waiting in line for a long time. She wiggled her wet feet in her sticky heels. “What time is it?”

Their drinks arrived.

“Time to move on.” He scooped up his drink, ensured she had hers, and gestured for her to precede him out of the coffee shop.

She sipped her yummy, revitalizing caffeine. It coated her veins with liquid gold hope. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. “We’ll hit the department store next. It’s the cheapest place to get decorations.”

“First, a new purse.”

She waved him away as she gulped. “I’ll fix it when I get home.”

He turned the purse to show the broken stub of faux pleather. “This is not repairable.”

“Let me teach you the restorative powers of duct tape.” She teased him as she pointed out the festive snowflake and jingle bells designs in the craft store. “Now infused with the Christmas spirit.”

Her heels wobbled.

“And you need new shoes.”

“That’s your opinion.” She rode the escalator for the bottom floor.

He eased onto the step behind her. Closer than before.

A gorgeous, billionaire dragon shifter was studying her. Almost like that first night. When he’d seen her for the first time, and her words had seemed to touch him. When he’d smiled.

Now, he almost seemed on the verge of softening…

He reached over and touched the back of her neck.

She held her breath.

The softest brush of his fingers lit her skin on fire. Her delicate hairs welcomed him. A shiver of awareness tingled down her spine.

She swallowed her gasp. “What?”

He frowned at his hand as though it had moved without his permission. He curled it into a fist, shoved it in his pocket, and angled away. “Your tag was showing.”

Oh. Right. Of course.

She fought her discombobulation. Your tag was showing. He dressed impeccably. It must drive him nuts to spend so much time with someone messy like her.

“How’s your coffee?”

His voice lowered. “Good.”

His warm purr curled under her rib cage, found her throbbing heart, and squeezed. And there was something more gleaming in his green eyes…

No. She was not embarrassing herself again. “I knew you’d like it.” She shuffled onto the ground floor and passed the Santa pictures.

He strolled behind her. “Why?”

“All dragons like coffee.”

He stiffened. The warmth in his tone froze to ice. “You know this how?”

“Syenite told me.”

He backed off. “I see.”

“There’s an espresso machine in every office. You guys are obsessed. Except you, apparently.”

“Until now. Your prediction was correct. I am the same as other dragons. I am, like them, obsessed.”

The coldness in his eyes felt like a slap.

What had she done wrong?

He was upset with her. Just like the first night.

Karmel had been friends with Eva since junior high. Karmel’s parents had moved south, and she’d enjoyed her own bout of wanderlust these last few years, migrating up from California after tiring of hanging ornaments on seventy-degree palm trees. She’d drifted through retail pet shops, boarding kennels, and one vet reception in Eugene before finally landing her dream job at the Pleased Puppers Pet Salon. Eva had let her stay over at her bungalow in early summer when apartment searching, and at one of those late barbecue party nights, Eva’s mysterious dragon shifter boyfriend Syenite had brought a new coworker.

Peridot had intrigued Karmel right away.

Syenite was a silent, frightening bodyguard who wore black shades day or night. He never smiled.

Peridot had looked even more inhuman. He spoke concisely, navigated the fire ring with clipped movements, and stood or sat motionless, like a statue. But it seemed off. Obsessively perfect. Like, if he breathed wrong, a hammer would drop.

Eva’s friends, being curious and intoxicated, had pushed for information. And Peridot had answered questions about life on his home planet, Draconis. Then, someone had asked Peridot the wrong question. “Did you leave a girlfriend back home?”

He had frozen so hard the surrounding air had crystalized.

An icy silence had fallen over the group.

His answer had tumbled like a chunk of hail. “No.”

Eva had hugged her boyfriend Syenite in her wood porch swing. “This is your home now.”

Peridot had stared at her from his folding chair with sick calm like she’d read the announcement of his impending death. “Correct.”

Syenite had ruffled Eva’s rainbow, glittery hair.

The silence had stretched out. Crickets had filled the suburban, dark sky. Their smoldering fire pit had popped. One of the many folding chairs positioned around it had creaked.

Peridot had stared into the fire.

“The night sky,” Karmel had said suddenly.

He’d looked over at her.

“Whenever I feel lonely, I remind myself that my family lives under the same stars. Then I don’t feel so lonely. So, don’t worry. Whether you’re here or back on Draconis, your loved ones look at the same night sky.”

His eyes had reflected more than the firelight. Emerald irises threaded with shades of olive and evergreen. His icy demeanor had cracked as if he was seeing her for the first time.

She’d warmed.

“Ppphyllb.” One of her other friends had blown a raspberry. “They don’t see the same stars on Draconis.”

“What? They don’t?”

Everyone had laughed at her surprise.

“You can’t even see the same night sky in Australia,” the friend had pointed out over the laughter. “Draconis is in a different galaxy.”

Peridot had looked away.

She’d shriveled up and died like a worm under a magnifying glass, and her friends had kept ribbing her until she’d bolted from the folding chair with an awkward laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Eva had protested loyally.

“But, still don’t worry. Peridot sees a different night sky, new starlight, totally alone. Which means! With no one from your past holding you back, you can start over as a new you.”

He’d blinked.

“That’s the opposite of what you just said!” her friend had teased.

“I’m trying to make him feel better.” She’d shushed their new gales of laughter. “Gosh, you guys. I’m being profound over here. No one takes me seriously.”

That had elicited more amusement.

She hadn’t minded the embarrassment—much—because it had lightened the atmosphere.

And then, suddenly, a small smile had curved Peridot’s lips.

His serious blond brows had relaxed. Crinkles had formed around his olive green eyes. Small and heartfelt. A crushing weight had lifted off his shoulders. Only for an instant.

And true love had struck her with an arrow right between the ribs.

Her heart had thudded with warning. She’d known, even then, that Peridot made her weak. She’d have done anything to catch his smile again. Addiction? Yes. She craved to see his brows lift, his pain lighten, and his smile return permanently.

Peridot had avoided her for the rest of the night. And at all other parties. He sat in a corner, alone. If she approached, he’d answer any questions with a monosyllable, stand, and flee.

Obviously, the first smile had been a fluke. He was proper, and she was a mess. She must stress him.

But then Eva had called her out of the blue to set up a meeting. “His boss assigned a research topic. You’re the best person to explain the whole ‘Christmas spirit’ thing.”

“Find someone else,” she’d said.

“Karmel, you love Christmas.”

“And I want him to love it too. So, he should learn about it from someone he doesn’t hate.”

“Peridot doesn’t hate you. Syenite keeps bringing him around because you’re the only one who makes him unfreeze.”

“He unfreezes to avoid me.”

“Yes, well, maybe he’s awkward. You’re the only one who’s made him smile.”

Then Eva had told Karmel in strict confidence that Peridot had been jilted at the altar and nearly committed suicide before coming to Earth to find his way in the world again.

Her heart had swelled three sizes. She’d agreed to the meeting in an instant.

If Karmel could help him impress his boss, she’d do whatever she could. If she could make him smile a little, she’d be happy. If she could help him relax, loosen up, and enjoy life again, then he’d surely leave his sadness behind and be able to enjoy, once more, the beauty of the universe.

And if they ever got married, they’d have little brown-haired children. Dragonlets, of course, because shifter genes were dominant. What color eyes? Green like Peridot’s? Or brown like hers?

Not that she wasted endless hours thinking about it or anything…

“That is not the department store,” Peridot remarked coldly.

She jolted out of her reverie. Her coffee was empty, and she was standing outside the culinary specialty store.

“Oh. I’ll just be a moment.”

“What decorations are you purchasing here?”

“Powder blue dragees.”

“That doesn’t translate.”

“Sugar pearls. For snowflake cookies. And royal icing.”

Disapproval frosted his frown. “You have not baked or decorated for your charity cookie exchange?”

“It’s on my to-do list.”

“You keep a list?”

“Of course I do. It’s right…” She reached for her purse, still in his arm, and then remembered. A wave of shame heated her cheeks. “It was in my purse.”

He eyed her with … what? Pity? “Perhaps you should not spearhead an important event.”

The heat wave turned white-hot. “Just because you’re perfect all the time—”

“I am not perfect.”

“—doesn’t give you the right to judge other people when all they want to do is make the world better.”

He stopped and held up his hand to silence her.

Bzzzz.

He touched his left ear. He, like Syenite, carried an earpiece linked to his boss at Carnelian Clothiers. “Sir.”

Bzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bz.

“Yes, sir. Sir.” He glanced at her and then angled away. “Very much, sir.”

This conversation would take time. She grabbed her purse out of his arm and mouthed, “I’ll be right back.”

He dipped his head and tapped the face of his Rolex.

She held her head high and stomped—well, stomp-shuffled—into the culinary store, praying her card wasn’t rejected and that nothing else broke.

Peridot stalked Karmel from the glass exterior of the store.

His insides churned.

She stumbled, dropped her purse, and stuck a finger in the back of her shoes. She wiggled the loose pleather and straightened, wobbled, and fell to one knee.

He wanted to leap through the glass, throw her over a shoulder, and growl to just give him the list. He’d do everything. She should sit somewhere and not get hurt.

But of course she’d never listen to him. She was irrational, dreamy, disconnected from reality. Just like his ex, Star Sapphire. And she would get herself hurt. Just like his ex.

Pain lacerated his heart.

“—idot?” His boss, Sard Carnelian, growled his name. “You have interviewed the human female Karmel. Report.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.” He could not tear his gaze away from the disaster inside the store but he strove to focus on the heavyweight CEO that had redeemed him, given him a second chance, and held his future in both claws. “According to Karmel, the ‘Christmas spirit’ is a set of decorations, noises, and flavors.”

He listed the fake snow, plastic foliage, oversized socks, and reindeer. Sard Carnelian was silent for a long period.

Then, he said, “No. That cannot be true. I have acquired these jingling bells, candy canes, and dead trees. There must be a different ‘Christmas spirit’ I lack.”

“I will ask again.”

“Good. You will find this missing facet of ‘Christmas spirit’ and I will acquire it. Hurry, Peridot. Use whatever resources you need. Carnelian Clothiers is at your disposal.”

His chest rose. “Understood.”

“If you cannot identify this spirit, I will send you back to Draconis.”

His throat tightened. “I will not fail you.”

“See that you do not.” Sard ended the call.

Another Christmas spirit. Peridot was a meticulous researcher. He had compiled volumes of myths, legends, and historical records across the globe. But Sard’s contact insisted the dragons were missing the elusive “spirit” of Christmas.

Sard refused to lack anything. The dragon race was technologically and physically superior. Even Peridot was a billionaire compared to the humans.

And yet, like the spark in Karmel’s honey-brown eyes, he felt like she possessed something he was missing.

It made Sard’s claim more plausible.

Peridot would correct the problem.

He looked into the store. Karmel studied a small packet of blue sugar pearls and tapped the price tag. Her shoulders sagged. She leaned over to a hook filled with similar packets and slid her packet onto its hook.

Wasn’t she buying it?

Her broken purse slid down her arm. She grappled it. Her motion bumped the hook.

Packets slid off the hook and scattered. One slid under her feet. She turned and her shoe slipped on the plastic. She fell.

He was inside the store before he even realized he’d flown.

Her elbow banged the ground.

She winced and grabbed it. “Ouch!”

Little blue balls rattled across the floor, scattering chaos.

Landing on the ground in front of her, he knelt and cupped her elbow. “You’re injured.”

“Hit my funny bone.” She forced a smile through her watery eyes. “You must be my curse. Always seeing me at my worst.”

He lifted her into his arms.

“Oof.” She hugged his shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“Solving the problem.” He addressed the harried store employee at the end of the aisle. “Please assist us.”

The employee hurried over with cleaning supplies. She handed him Karmel’s purse.

Karmel wiggled in his arms. “Let me help with that dustpan.”

“That’s okay, ma’am,” the employee said.

“But I made the mess. Peridot, let me down.”

He tightened his hold. “How many packages do you need for your cookies?”

“Two. But it’s fine. They’re more expensive than I realized.”

“I will buy two packages,” he ordered. “And pay for the damages.”

The employee finished cleaning and led them to the busy registers. They did not charge for Karmel’s accident. She protested his purchases.

“It was an accident.” Karmel wiggled for her purse. “Don’t pay. None of this is your fault.”

“True. The problem is your shoes.”

And the second problem was her soft curves pressing into his hard places.

Her fur-lined red dress, thin leggings, and thick wool coat separated their skin. But her curvy hip snugged against his abdomen. The heavy swell of her breasts strained the fabric a lighter shade. And her scent. It dragged him after Karmel like she’d snapped a ring to his snout. A cinnamon-scented, sugary-sweet ring. Her sweetness tugged his heart out of rhythm. The curve of her soft lips made his dragon stand up and roar.

Even though she ignored their meeting and preferred to leave him for her errands, he could not stop the pounding of hot blood pumping him full of desire.

She was walking chaos with a cheerful smile. Effervescent no matter what went wrong. Sadness didn’t seem to touch her.

He carried her from the store.

Karmel wiggled in his arms. She was more apologetic and worried than sad. “You don’t have to carry me. I’m not that big a danger to myself or others.”

They passed a women’s clothing store, and he saw one of her needed things on the display rack. “That purse is a suitable replacement.”

She stopped struggled. “That’s a COACH bag.”

“It is a similar color and style. Do you dislike it?”

“No, I’d love a COACH! They do trickle down to the thrift stores, but new? The only way I can pay for the decorations is if my rent check didn’t clear, to say nothing of new shoes and a COACH.”

“I will pay.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It is your consultation fee.”

“Talking about Christmas is a treat for me, not for you. And I already accepted your donation for ‘Home for the Howlidays.’”

“Your items broke in my presence. This is my compensation.”

She gazed at the purse. A flicker of hunger crossed her face. Then, she pshawed. “I don’t need it.”

“You do.”

“Look. I’ll stuff what I can into my coat pockets. You can toss my broken purse in that trash can. Problem solved!”

Her rejection struck him like the blade of a knife.

Star Sapphire had also refused his first offering. She had dismissed his chest of heirloom gemstones as dull, predictable, utilitarian. He had chafed against the criticism because he was traditional. He had been an aristocrat. Maintaining propriety had been the point.

Karmel’s rejection was more personal.

His voice was so low he barely recognized it. “You reject my offering.”

“It’s too much.”

“Human currency is nothing. I could purchase this shopping district.”

“You could. I’d never be able to pay you back.”

“Do you expect your charity to pay you back?”

“No, that’s my gift.”

“This is my gift,” he growled, stiff, “and you reject it.”

“Of course I do,” she snapped. “Am I your charity?”

“No, you are my consultant.”

Stating the words reminded him that just because she was in his arms did not mean she was his mate to carry off and savage. They were in a business relationship. And she had shown multiple ways she did not consider him for romance.

He forced himself to stop caring. Deaden the pain of her rejection. Become numb.

“You are my consultant and your consultation has been insufficient. My boss rejected your explanation of ‘Christmas spirit.’”

“What?”

“I require another theory,” he continued harshly. “However, you have irresponsibly delayed a pre-existing commitment to shop, bake, and decorate for your charity event. Although you do not respect my time, I respect yours.”

Her mouth snapped shut. Her face whitened.

“The only way to complete tonight’s transaction is if you stop wasting time stumbling around from inadequate dress. You require new shoes, a proper purse, and dry clothing. You may also benefit from a wristwatch, supposing you bothered to look at it.”

“Let me down.”

“I will not—”

“Now.”

He lowered her to the ground.

Her honey-brown eyes were so furious they almost emitted sparks. “You want to make a donation? Fine. I accept.”

His heart thudded. She accepted his offering.

But she wasn’t done. “The sooner we finish up here, the sooner we can split up and go home. Alone.”

Peridot looked pissed.

Gorgeous, all-too-kissable, and deliciously strong.

His green eyes snapped with fury.

Oh, he thought he was angry? Karmel was a human, and she was ready to spit fire.

She held out her hand. “Give me your credit card.”

He set the thick, black plastic on her palm. A stack of similarly expensive “billionaire” credit cards peeked from his metal billfold. “Where are you going?”

She jerked her thumb in the direction of the department store. “To buy one of every decoration. For charity. And then to dinner. You might enjoy protein paste but I need a real meal.”

He didn’t blink. “Your shoes are not safe to walk.”

She yanked off her shoes and slammed them in the trash can. “Problem solved.”

He was silent for a long minute.

Then, he turned away. “I will make a new dinner reservation. You will share your next theory.”

“Sure, I have several. Don’t bother with a sit-down restaurant. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.” She stormed off in her wet, squelchy socks without letting him get in the last word.

Last-minute shoppers packed the department store and closing music chimed. Great.

A store guard approached. “Your shoes—”

“I had a wardrobe accident on the ice.” She grabbed a pair of house slippers off the rack, stuffed them on her wet feet, and flashed Peridot’s black card. “I’m going to make a large purchase. Can you call the manager?”

He lifted his walkie-talkie.

She’d seen a few black credit cards at the pet salon. Only from people who lived in the multimillion-dollar penthouses and view homes. They were heavier than a normal credit card. The inlay was real metal.

When the manager arrived, she explained her situation. “I don’t want to keep you late. I need to buy your most expensive decorations as fast as possible.”

Peridot wanted to donate to charity? Let him donate to charity.

The manager assigned two stockers to follow her through the store. She’d been craving tall glasses, thick candles, sparkly flocking, and real pine boughs for ages. In one massive explosion, she piled the carts high with her fanciest dreams.

While she shopped, the argument continued in her head.

Who was Peridot to criticize her explanation of the Christmas spirit? She was an expert. He was a stupid alien. Who was he to say she was wrong?

She’d cooled off by the end of the aisle and turned around.

The employees craned their necks over her sparkling, mountainous carts.

Guilt set in.

She’d bought too much. She could get by with festive ribbons and plastic tablecloths. They didn’t need embroidered linen. And if they did, she could embroider it herself, cheap, for next year.

And, she was going to decorate tonight alone. She didn’t want to be up past midnight on the room.

“Ma’am?” The manager returned. “Your party is waiting in the dressing room.”

Her party. Sure.

The lights flashed a five minute warning.

Ah, it was too late to economize. She’d use the bare necessities and donate the rest.

“That’s it,” she said, and relief infused the overworked employees’ faces. She silently apologized again for coming in so late and hurried to the dressing rooms.

Peridot stood with a rack of dresses. A huge shopping bag filled with multiple COACH boxes sat on the floor beside him. “Here are the dresses closest to your size.”

She scanned the tags even though there really wasn’t time. “Shouldn’t I get a new corset or something?”

He followed her glance to the shaper wear. “Do you enjoy being constricted?”

“Not really.”

“Then it is unnecessary.”

Karmel pulled out a boring gray dress and escaped into the fitting room. It was nice to get out of her wet leggings and thin dress.

But, ugh, the cheapest in the pile was ugly. It pinched her shoulders and bunched under her boobs.

Hopefully, it would make Peridot happy.

A little twinge of excitement curled in her belly. How many COACH bags had he bought? And he was buying her a dress? And shoes?

Calm down.

He was a billionaire. Human currency was nothing. He’d said so himself. A paycheck to her wasn’t even pocket change to him. It was pocket lint.

She was pocket lint.

Karmel forced herself to believe that as she prepared for approval and exited the fitting room.

The implacable dragon’s brow darkened.

She pinched her ill-fitting skirt and twirled. “You don’t like it?”

“It doesn’t fit.”

She lowered her hands.

“Human measurement systems are inefficient.” He grumbled under his breath as he sorted dresses on the rack. “Your breasts are full, your shoulders are narrow, and your torso is long. The skirt should flare over your hips. Ah, here.” He held up a glittering blue dress, tugged the skirt, and frowned at the scoop neck, then thrust it at her. “Try that.”

She held it. The fabric changed colors from smoky blue to darkest midnight. It looked like a night sky.

“And these shoes.” He set chunky heels adorned with glittering rhinestones atop the dress in her arms. “Hurry.”

Behind schedule again.

She closed the fitting room door, inch-wormed out of the gray dress, and donned the blue silk. The bodice lifted her boobs and flattened her stomach, and the generous skirt swirled around her thighs. She clothed herself in twinkling starlight.

Karmel slipped on the shoes. They fit like Cinderella’s slippers. The chunky heel was stable and cute.

The woman in the fitting room mirror looked sophisticated. Her curly mass of hair suddenly seemed intentional. She fished out her tube of gloss and swiped her lips in coral pink. There. She was put together.

How had he known?

She stepped out of the fitting room.

Peridot was sorting through the other dresses on the rack, muttering. “Need a tailor.” He glanced at her and stopped.

Karmel twirled. The dress flared around her thighs like the skirt of a Christmas tree.

An unfamiliar hunger crossed his face. His green eyes gleamed. They trailed down her body and up again, consuming her with his hot gaze.

Her chest swelled.

She linked her fingers in front of her. “Better?”

He nodded wordlessly.

Her belly squinched with nerves.

He stepped to the COACH bag, rummaged inside, and emerged with a matching dark blue bag. A little blue leather tree dangled from the handle. “I bought the Christmas edition.”

Her eyes burned. She transferred her wallet and things from her wool jacket to the purse and shouldered the soft, fresh leather. “Thank you.”

He made arrangements for delivery to her apartment and then they left the department store and took the escalator to the exit of the emptying mall.

On the chilly street, he held out his elbow.

Her nerves twanged again. She tried to dismiss it with a joke. “Don’t trust me to walk on my own?”

“I thought it was common for Earth males and females to link arms when they go to dinner.”

“Dinner dates,” she said. “Romantic dinner dates.”

The intent focus of his green eyes suggested he did know about it. He was testing her. The warmth in his eyes was real. Not her imagination.

A needy ache twisted between her legs. Her fantasies rushed back.

Maybe he did like her. Maybe he was cautious. He’d already offered his arm to one fiancée, and she’d practically ripped it off. Maybe the fire kindling in Karmel’s belly was one he shared, and feared, and fought against, too.

Was she brave enough to reach back?

Karmel stepped forward and curled her fingers around his forearm.

The gray suit fabric was cool, but the hard forearm beneath was blisteringly hot. And he smelled deliciously male. Pine and musk. He made her feminine center throb and her belly clench.

They strolled down the thinning streets. Christmas fell midweek this year and so lots of people still had to get up tomorrow and work Christmas Eve, Karmel not included. She’d be working on the charity event.

Peridot’s long stride tugged her along. He noticed and modulated his pace. Was he not used to walking in pairs? She also wasn’t used to it, but with him, it felt wonderful.

December darkness blanketed the city, and pale clouds hinted at the possibility of more sleet. She leaned on Peridot, confident of his powerful strength.

“Do you wish to fly?” His voice rumbled intimately near her ear.

Yummy shivers went down her spine.

“Walking is nice.” She tried not to read too much into it. “I feel stable. No risk of losing a heel. These are the first new shoes I’ve had in … gosh. I don’t know how long.”

“You dislike spending money.”

“I have little to spend.” She smoothed the expensive but surprisingly warm skirt. “Anyway, I have enough, and others need new things more than I do.”

“I will send ten pairs of new shoes to your apartment tomorrow.”

“That’s very nice, but you shouldn’t. This is already too expensive.”

“Cheap for peace of mind.” A glimmer of amusement tinted his voice. “Your accidents are nerve-wracking.”

“Sorry.” She gazed up at the hopeful, overcast sky. “You bring out the worst in me.”

“Why?”

“I’m such a mess and you’re so perfect.”

“Perfect?” He stared down at her. “I’m an exile banished for disgracing my species. Don’t joke.”

“Oh. God. Sorry. I didn’t mean—well, you’re so organized and on time and calm. That kind of ‘perfect.’ You make me nervous.”

His face flattened. “Nervous? My presence makes you ill-at-ease?”

She’d made it worse.

Karmel stopped and faced him.

Sharp hurt flashed before he forced his expression back to his usual half-lidded, implacable sternness. He crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Do you to think I’m cool?”

He blinked. “Cool?”

“You see my bad decisions. I want to dress up and impress you but instead, I fall down and I’m late.” She squeezed his closest forearm. “And every time I mess up, I try even harder. That makes it worse. It’s not your fault I get nervous. I spend the whole time wondering what’ll go wrong. Today, I hit a new personal record because the answer was ‘Everything.’”

He frowned over his shoulder at something in the distance. “Are you saying…?”

She leaned forward.

He flinched away as though he couldn’t bear to look at her straight. “… you don’t dislike me?”

Shock jolted through her. “Dislike? No! What? Why?”

“You deferred our meeting as an ‘errand’.”

“Agh! No, that was just bad planning. I had the walk-in right as we were closing, and then — see? I’m a mess. You can’t understand because you’re perfect.”

His face closed again.

“Not perfect! I mean, you’re better with time management. But listen.” She shook his crossed forearms. “I like you! I’m sorry how tonight started. You’re not an errand. I wanted to meet with you. I really like you.”

His shoulders relaxed and his frown smoothed. “You rejected my offering.”

“Huh?” She looked down at her outfit. “Oh. Well, it’s just… I love it, but it costs so much…”

“You fixate on its assigned price over its utilitarian value.”

“Oh, jeez. That makes me sound so shallow.” She dragged a hand through her hair to pull her curls out of the way. “Let’s enjoy a nice dinner, have a real conversation, and figure ‘us’ out.”

The olive glimmer in his eyes intensified. “You believe there is an ‘us’?”

His gaze verged into a hypnotic, smoldering heat like he was tasting her. Her mouth went dry.

She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

He moved with command. His bulging arms snugged around her middle and tugged her flush. Her breasts pressed against his solid chest, her thighs nestled against his, and her mouth landed mere inches from his.

She squeaked.

Oh yes. Yum. More fodder for her fantasies.

His eyes darkened. “Hold on.”

“Huh?”

Gravity reversed. They floated off the ground.

Her heart revved. Adrenaline pulsed through her body, filling her with adventure. She flung her arms around his shoulders. “We’re flying!”

“Yes.” His answer hissed dangerously close to hear sensitive earlobe.

Ooh. She vibrated with heat.

He landed in the middle of a rooftop bar decorated with festive Christmas lights. Patrons in thick coats huddled under heaters. They gaped and sloshed drinks. He floated to a stand-up table. “Your quick meal.”

“We can sit,” she said. “If…”

He slid his hot gaze across her. Molten alien green lava. Matching heat flared in her center. “If?”

“If you’re eating with me.”

Peridot’s gaze hardened and cooled. He looked over her shoulder at the bar patrons.

Karmel had pushed too far. “I know you like your protein paste, but—”

“I don’t like it.”

He kept one arm around her waist, snugging her to him, as though at any moment he might take off again, and he crossed into the rooftop restaurant. He wove through the long line to the busy hostess station. The restaurant was trendy and expensive, glowing white and aqua, like the inside of a snow globe. A trio of nicely dressed young men greeted them warmly and managed the line.

“We are changing our reservation.” Peridot shared his name, and they came to attention. “She wants to sit.”

“Your table is almost ready,” one promised with a dazzling smile. “Just one moment. I’ll take your coats.”

She gave hers. They hung it on an electronic coat rack.

Everyone was whispering and looked at them like they were royalty.

Cutting to the front of the line at a trendy rooftop restaurant in a new dress? She felt like royalty. Peridot acted as though he were used to this attention and kept her possessively close.

Another wave of heat flushed through her.

She squeezed his arm.

He leaned over the back of her neck. His index finger slid from her nape to her collar. Harder shivers tingled from his touch. Her nipples tightened.

She forced herself to breathe. “Flipping my tag?”

“No.”

No? Then, what was he doing?

She looked up at him.

His gaze smoldered. He was a dragon and a billionaire, but he was first a male. Heat flushed through her body, awakening her pores. She was all female and melty for him.

He fixed on her lips.

She parted them.

His nostrils flared.

Sensuous heat filled the space between them. He was so good-looking. And he was staring at her like a predator reeling in a very willing prey.

She sucked in a deep breath and leaned into his embrace.

“This way.” Their host smiled and extended his arm. “Your table is ready.”

She stepped forward.

Peridot hung back.

His unguarded expression closed with a snap. He was himself again — implacable, stern, and frigid.

What had just passed between them?

Karmel was hungry. Peridot must feed her.

The waiter led them to a booth and described the Christmas set. Karmel listened brightly asking excited questions.

Peridot could not take his eyes off her. His senses tuned to high alert. Her laughter caressed his ears. Her scent curled around his cock. Her smile tugged, hard.

“And so I’ll take your drink order now,” the waiter finished.

Karmel picked up their drinks menu, blanched, and closed it again quickly. “I’ll have water.”

“The couples Christmas set comes with a dessert glass of ice wine.”

“Oh. Uh…”

The moment they had walked into the restaurant, his control had snapped.

She wore his dress. Colors and fabric he had chosen. His offering she had accepted.

His chest squeezed.

Strange.

He wanted to give her more things. Send tailors to her house, throw out her dangerous outfits, and clothe her only in dresses that made her smile shine as she had outside the restaurant.

Because now that smile faded. “I don’t need the whole set. A salad is fine. Your cheapest salad.”

Karmel rejected his food?

The waiter spoke easily. “For salad dressing, we have—”

“Wait.” Peridot stopped the waiter. “You do not want the Christmas set?”

She waved one hand awkwardly. “I don’t need it.”

He had misunderstood. She said she liked him beneath the restaurant, but humans liked many things.

She did not want him to feed her. She did not wish to become his mate.

His mate!

Why should he think such a thing? Of course she did not want to become his mate. He could not provide a single acceptable meal. How could she trust him to provide anything more important?

“I have chosen the wrong restaurant.” He rose. “We will leave.”

“No!” She clutched the table. “I’m sure everything is delicious.”

“But you will not eat it.”

“Well, I just … I don’t need to be served on crystal. I’m a ‘takeout Chinese’ kind of gal.”

He should have done more research. “I apologize. We will get your desired takeout Chinese.”

“Oh no, I want to try the set. I’ve dreamed of it. Just like I dreamed of owning a new—” She broke off and hugged her COACH bag to her gowned chest. “But I don’t deserve… I mean, it’s too much for someone like me. I don’t need crystal and chocolate and… Look. You should get the set.”

“I am satisfied with protein paste, Karmel. I have no desire to subject myself to human flavors.”

“Subject yourself? You have no idea what you’re missing.”

“And I have no desire to know. But I have promised to ‘eat with you.’ So we will eat together here or elsewhere. You decide.”

She clenched her fists, sucked in a deep breath, and then dropped her hands and scooted deeper into the booth. “I will have the set, thank you very much. And the chilled, spiced cider.”

“Very good.” The waiter, who had frozen during their argument, now returned to life. “And you, sir?”

“The same.” Peridot resumed his seat.

“No, I’ll give you a taste. You should get something different.” Karmel turned to the waiter. “How about the Cranberry Martini?”

The waiter confirmed with Peridot and left their table.

“That way, you can try more flavors and figure out which drink you like better,” Karmel said.

Again, the strange feeling—like sweating, but in his belly—made him move his weight in the booth. “Do you really care what I like?”

“Yes. Of course I do. And I want to help you figure out what you like even if you’re not a fan of alcohol.”

“Alcohol is wasted on dragons. We metabolize it too fast. Drink a whole bottle, feel mild heartburn and no buzz.”

“What matters is whether you like the flavor, so it’s not a waste.”

“Why do you not accept that argument for the set menu?”

She frowned at the tabletop. “I don’t know.”

And now he was antagonizing her.

He hadn’t been able to control himself at the entrance. He’d reached out and stroked a finger across her pink skin from the intoxicating mass of curls to the collar of her dress.

She’d looked back at him with surprise. Her plump, coral lips had parted. She had leaned closer to ask a question.

He wanted to touch her again.

But she was upset. With him.

Of course she was.

He must have imagined the flash of heat in her eyes and the eager warmth in her smile.

“Here are drinks.” The waiter slid their icy glasses onto coasters and revealed the main tray with a flourish. “And your appetizer course: pan-seared green beans wrapped in Black Forest prosciutto, cornmeal blini bites topped with lemon-ricotta and Pacific Northwest smoked salmon, and brie-stuffed apricots studded with candied pecans and drizzled with local wildflower honey.”

They were arranged into a sleigh. The long beans were the skates, the blinis formed the body of the sled, and the apricots were the reindeer linked to the blinis by golden honey reins.

Karmel covered her mouth. “That’s amazing!”

“Enjoy.” The waiter bowed and retreated.

She unfolded the thick teal napkin over her lap and lifted her glass. Cranberry-and-pine-filled ice cubes clinked in the sweet cider. “Cheers.”

He lifted his martini glass and clinked hers. “Cheers.”

She sipped her icy cider, excitement flushing her cheeks. He mirrored her, sipping the burning alcohol. Sweet-tart flavors caressed his tongue. Smooth, dangerous. He could drink gallons.

“Do you like it?” she asked eagerly.

His chest twinged. “Yes.”

“Good. Here, try mine.” She set her glass in front of him and smoothed her bodice.

He wanted to possess her, to touch her through the fabric. To be the fabric cupping her.

But that was a mistake.

“Try the appetizers.” She bit into the crispy bacon-wrapped beans and closed her eyes. “Mm. Oh my god. This is heaven.”

He needed to yank her over the table, thrust his tongue down her throat, and make her moan with the same bliss.

“Here. Give me your plate.” She dragged his small plate close and served him one of each appetizer. “I can’t wait to hear what you think.”

He crunched, crisped, chewed his way through the sweet, savory, expertly spiced food. “You have eaten these foods before.”

“No. I mean, they’re takes on traditional foods, but they’re … wow.”

Each bite was a sledgehammer to his control. The ice around feelings was cracking and any second the flood would rage through his veins.

Humans kissed on the mouth. He had thought it strange when Syenite did that with his human female. But now, after consuming this tasty food with unique flavors, Peridot hungered for more sensations.

He craved to press every part of him against Karmel. His mouth, his skin. His tongue, his teeth.

“Here’s your second course.” The waiter exchanged their empty appetizer dish for a main course. “Pumpkin risotto on a bed of roasted kale with brined turkey filets and black truffles.”

Scoops of pumpkin risotto shaped two orange snow people. The other ingredients formed their top hats and scarves and shared parasol.

Again, Karmel squealed. “So adorable!”

“Thank you.” The waiter left them.

“I’ll never forget this my whole life.” She swiped at her damp eyes and once again served him and urged him to eat. “Um, how are you enjoying the food? Are the flavors okay?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your favorite so far?”

His chest made the squinching feeling again. “Why do you pursue my preferences?”

“Because you’re impossible to read.” She flashed him a damp smile, sniffed, and took a big bite of turkey mixed with risotto. “Mmm. Oh. This is amazing. I didn’t know turkey could taste like this.”

“Turkey is a traditional Christmas meat.”

“Yeah, but my grandma could only cook dessert. Her turkeys were so dry you could have used the drum sticks for sand paper. My parents always grabbed Chinese on the way home.”

Ah. “That is why you preferred nostalgic Chinese to this new experience.”

“I don’t know about prefer. It’s just what I’m used to. And anyway, there are tons of ‘traditional’ holiday foods I’ve never had.”

“Truly?”

“Sure. I’ve never had ‘chestnuts roasting on an open fire.’ How do those taste? I’d like to know.” She bit into the black truffles and closed her eyes again. “Mmm. Did you try the mushrooms? They’re like bacon cooked in butter. Except a mushroom.”

“Yes, I tried one.”

Her eyes snapped open. She chewed and swallowed. “So, did you like it?”

“Why do you continue to ask me this?”

“Because I’m trying to figure out what you like.”

Squiggle. Again.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I want to get to know you.”

“I am a typical dragon.”

“Well, I don’t know any typical dragons.”

“You know Syenite.”

“Yeah. You’re both hard to read, but he’s relaxed a lot since he started dating Eva, and he eats human food all the time. I’m trying to get to know you.”

“Why?”

She tilted her head. “Why not?”

“There is nothing to know. My presence is not distinguished. I am dull.”

“You are not dull.”

His chest squinched and a strange heat filled his heart at the same time. “Some have said so.”

“Like who?”

“It was a reason my ex gave for breaking our engagement.”

She stopped chewing.

“I kept our appointments. Only visited when requested. Left the requisite gifts.”

“Your ex broke up with you because you were too responsible?”

“There was an accident.”

He rested his palms on the smooth table. Karmel sometimes made him forget that he was disgraced. He had no right to court her or dream of being her mate. She deserved to know.

“The morning of our wedding, Star Sapphire wished to lava ski. I did not believe we had enough time to visit the volcanoes and greet arriving dignitaries. She called the wedding off and dared me to chase after her. I did. She disabled her ship’s safety system to exceed the maximum speed. I did not. She crashed.”

Karmel pressed her hand to her heart. “Was she okay?”

“She was fine. Our ships are hardy even when they fail.”

“Thank goodness. So, you were there to save her?”

“Yes. When she emerged from the wreckage, my unruffled presence made her furious. She confirmed her decision to end the engagement. Keeping my safety system operating proved I was predictable and passionless.”

“It didn’t prove you were smart?”

“I was not smart. She was testing me. Star Sapphire wanted her mate to show his loyalty by putting himself and his possessions at risk. Although we are both aristocrats, her family was wealthier than mine. I refused to risk. I failed her test.”

And then he had been disgraced. No other female would consider a male who had displeased his bride on her wedding day.

“My mother assigned the Olivine family fortune to my next brother and exiled me from the estate.”

“I heard something but that’s worse than I thought.” Karmel’s brow wrinkled with sympathy. “And then you came here.”

“The usual fate of a disgraced aristocrat is to join the Colony Wars. However, I was exiled so suddenly I could not collect any possessions to purchase an officer’s commission. The Colony Wars are brutal and officers survive longer than a few weeks.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Weeks!”

“Usually. Sard Carnelian reached out before I enlisted, so, I owe him my life. That is why I will answer his research question about the spirit of Christmas. I gave him my vow.”

“Yes! Right. The ‘Christmas spirit.’” She rubbed her hands together. “Decorations didn’t get him into the Christmas spirit.”

“He has already acquired decorations. Apparently, they do not demonstrate his Christmas spirit.”

She rubbed her temples. “Okay. Think. He has to show his Christmas spirit … Oh! Does he have a nativity scene?”

“Nativity scene?”

“The baby in the manger. It’s a sweet story even if you’re not religious. Do you know it?”

“Yes. Two parents did not schedule a human birthing suite and so they appropriated an animal feeding trough in an exterior shed. The baby grew into a prophet and so his parents’ bad planning is celebrated.”

“That … huh.” She coughed. “Wow. Remind me to get the dragon alien perspective on the Festival of Lights. And Kwanzaa.”

“I will research those. When would you like to be reminded?”

“Er, later.”

He opened his mouth to ask her to be specific.

She cut him off. “The nativity does not celebrate bad planning. It’s about charity. Mary and Joseph were escaping persecution. The inns were full but the last innkeeper wanted to help. His barn wasn’t a five-star hotel, but it was enough. Don’t you think it’s a nice story about coming together as a community and helping the less fortunate?”

Her answer made sense. “I do not know if Sard has a nativity. I will ask.”

“He might need more than a display.” She tapped the tine of her fork on the edge of her plate. “The true spirit of Christmas is giving back. Helping the community. Like my cookie exchange. We’re going to have decorations and caroling and treats, but ultimately we’re raising money for ‘Home for the Howlidays’ because everybody deserves to find the place where they belong.”

“Sard has rescued many disgraced dragons,” Peridot growled, loyal. “He is the most charitable dragon in this sector.”

“Then it can’t be that.” She leaned back. “I’ll keep thinking.”

He called Sard to report. His boss acknowledged his new theory with an irritated growl. “I will acquire this ‘nativity’ object and present it to my contact tomorrow. If you’re wrong, Peridot, you’re on the first shipping cruiser off Earth.”

“Sir,” he said tightly and ended his call.

Karmel was apparently still thinking. She yawned and stretched.

Her beautiful breasts swelled beneath the winter sunset coloring of his dress. The hint of aureole pushed up through her bra.

His cock hardened.

Star Sapphire had been right. He had refused to risk anything for her. He had been proper, careful, distant. In Karmel’s words, ‘perfect.’ He had not wished Star Sapphire to know him. She might have disliked what she learned.

His strategy had failed. Star Sapphire had rejected him anyway.

Today, he’d spent hours with Karmel. She had pried into his life, into his past. Into his desires. She’d refused to keep her distance. She’d shared her observations fearlessly. She’d asked him what he liked.

No one ever asked him what he liked.

A strange frisson tingled over his skin.

Like the tingle when Karmel had pressed the pumpkin spice coffee into his hand, and when she had ordered his martini. She was trying to guess at his desires. She wanted to know him. She didn’t think he was dull — or unworthy.

She liked him?

The recriminations that had plagued him dissolved like the fizzes in his martini.

Karmel had said she liked him in front of the restaurant. But she also liked dinner, Christmas, her family, and the last Corgi she’d groomed.

He wanted her to like him.

The more she revealed, the more he craved.

But what if he opened himself to her as she wished and showed his true self?

It was risky.

When he had tried to express his honest regrets, Star Sapphire had snarled in his face. And his mother and brothers had agreed. “I knew you would fail,” his younger brother had sneered. “You are too hidebound and duty-driven to entice a female.”

He did not want an exotic woman like Karmel to agree.

Meeting her had caused a shocking glimmer of hope to crack into his world.

The day he disappointed her was the day that crack would close and hope would die, leaving him alone in a shell of eternal darkness.

Peridot was looking angry again.

He stared at the table, pensive, as if he regretted how late Karmel had kept him out and how very far they were off schedule.

To be fair, it was late, and she still had a night of baking ahead of her.

“I’m sorry,” Karmel said as the waiter cleared away their dishes. “I’m not earning my dinner, am I?”

His gaze flicked up to her. “No?”

“Maybe if I spoke to your boss myself, I could get an idea of what ‘Christmas spirit’ he needs.”

Peridot puckered like he’d swallowed a lemon. “You wish to speak with Sard?”

“Is that a problem?”

“He is a heavyweight aristocrat.”

“So, yes?”

Peridot looked away. “He is very attractive.”

Too attractive to deign to speak with Karmel? But she was wearing a new dress. And shoes. And … huh.

“We could talk on the phone. Then we wouldn’t see each other’s faces.”

Peridot darkened.

“I just want to help,” she muttered.

Luckily, their dessert course arrived. Adorable chocolate tea cakes in the shape of Christmas trees nestled inside a white Pavlova wreathe dotted with candied cherries.

She picked up one tree by its flat cookie base. The tree-shaped tower of marshmallow dripped still-wet chocolate down her fingers. “These are too adorable to eat.”

Peridot’s eyes narrowed.

Oops, she’d made it worse. Like earlier when he’d tried to leave the restaurant because she’d said the wrong thing.

“But I’m eating it. I promise. Look.” She took a sweet, gooey bite. Every chocolate fantasy exploded in her taste buds. She didn’t have to fake the moan of appreciation. “Oh. So good. So cute and so good.”

“Karmel.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Do you want Chinese food?”

She swallowed. “Now? No. Why?”

“You keep rejecting this meal.”

“Oh.” She finished the rest of the cake, chewed, and swallowed, washing it down with a refreshing sip of the smooth cider. “It’s the nicest meal I’ve ever eaten.”

“And yet you reject it. Like the dress you desired and the COACH bag you ‘do not deserve.’ But this payment is for your aid. You are assisting me.”

“Not very well.”

“That is for me to decide. And I say you do deserve it.”

She snorted. “Okay.”

“You disagree. Why?”

Her heart thudded.

She shrugged and tore off a piece of the Pavlova. Sweet crunchy meringue with a fluffy interior like freshly fallen snow. “Probably a misplaced try at being humble.”

“Why does humbleness require you to deny your desires?”

“I’m not denying anything. I have more than enough. That’s why I volunteer and give to charity. I shouldn’t be selfish.”

“It is not selfish to wear well-fitting clothes and solid shoes that prevent injury.”

“If I’d changed into the nicer outfit I brought to the pet salon we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” She tore off another piece of Pavlova. “Every time I try to show up on time and prepared, I misread the assignment and the bus breaks down. It’s a curse.”

“Ask a friend to verify your work and avoid public transit.”

“If I could do that, of course I wouldn’t have a problem.” She blew air up at her curly bangs. “But I always take on too much, like you said.”

“You should not be forced to work alone.”

“I have to.”

“Explain.”

“Christmas is a great example.” Karmel sipped the sweet wine. “My grandma made every day of December magical. She decorated a special tree. She hung mini stockings. Her advent calendar sent us to serenade the neighborhood, string popcorn, and watch movies. I had no idea how rare her enthusiasm was. When she passed away, she took Christmas with her.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah.” She teased the rim of her glass. “I tried to keep her traditions alive. But my dad always worked holiday overtime and my siblings only wanted their presents. The year I hung all the ornaments alone was the last year I insisted we get a tree.”

He studied her.

Heat coiled around her like a drug.

He was doing it again. Seducing her just by looking in her direction.

This whole dinner was a seduction.

If she didn’t drive Peridot up the wall, she might actually make a play for him. His ex had treated him like a thing. He deserved to know the healing power of love. Karmel could generously teach him.

Fall into his powerful arms. Taste his firm lips. Draw his shirt out of his slacks and delve beneath his belt. Encircle his male shaft. Draw him to her hot, throbbing slit.

She was so charitable. A regular Mother Teresa over here.

Karmel touched the cool, wet glass to her heated cheek. “And when I complained that we never did anything as a family, my mom shut me down. I couldn’t see they were already doing so much for us. My dad had to work overtime to afford our presents.”

The pain of that realization had chilled her like an icicle slid between her ribs.

“The thing is, I would have given up all my concert tickets, Xbox games, and makeup sets if my dad would stay home that day. I would have given them up.” She snapped her damp fingers. “In an instant. So all this is nice. The dress, the shoes, the meal. But I don’t need it. I don’t.”

He leaned forward. “You reject my offerings because you fear I cannot afford them and accepting them will drive me away?”

“Oh, er, not you personally.” She didn’t want to insult him. He was a billionaire. “Living frugally lets me travel and give to charity. Self-denial is a habit.”

That was why she’d silenced her protest when she’d realized the “expensive” thirty-dollar meal had a couple extra zeroes tacked on.

“My family doesn’t even exchange gifts anymore. And that’s why I’m organizing the charity cookie exchange. Trying to start my own traditions with people who might actually enjoy them. But…”

But here she was, the night before the exchange, struggling on alone.

“I will help you.” His green eyes intensified their color. “With your cookie exchange.”

Her heart jumped and floundered.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You are not asking.” A slight growl entered his tone. “I am telling you.”

“You have to report to your boss. I can’t drag you in because of my bad decisions.”

“Karmel.”

Hearing her name on his tongue, with the possessive growl, sent little flickers of hunger shivering down her spine.

“No!” She thumped the backs of her heels against the puffy white bench. “Even as recent as this morning, instead of working on the cookie exchange I wasted my time on a project to impress my boss.”

“What project?”

“It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out.”

“You will overcome this setback. You have unusual resilience.”

Her chest tingled with warmth, and it wasn’t from the cider. “Thank you. But lots of people have resilience. I’m not that unusual.”

“Your attitude is consistently bright. Such positivity is rare. And precious.”

Wow. He wasn’t pulling his punches.

She swallowed. “Thanks. I think you’re doing great, too.”

“With?”

“Being here. On Earth. Coping with us crazy ‘humans.’ We must be strange.”

“You are,” he admitted. “But not bad. I want to help you.”

“I can’t let you. You’re so sweet to offer. But I was the one who made this bad planning bed. Let me be the one to lie in it.”

His green eyes intensified. “How can I convince you to let me into your bed?”

Her belly pinged. Arousal flooded her feminine center. She squeezed her thighs together.

Well, if he asked so nicely, who was she to deny him?

Bzzz. Her phone rattled in her new purse. She took it out.

The salon owner’s name flashed.

Her stomach dropped. She answered right away. “Monica? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to bother you so late.” Her boss’s voice was shriller than usual.

“No, I’m still out.”

“You locked up tonight, right? Are you sure you set the lock?”

“I’m sure,” she said, suddenly not sure. “Why?”

“The police called me. The salon is trashed. They broke glass and threw product everywhere.”

“They? Who?”

“Some homeless person. We don’t know. I’m wading through shampoo now.” Her boss’s voice trembled. “It’s a disaster.”

“I’ll be right there.” Karmel ended the call and stood.

Peridot was at her side in an instant.

Her stomach churned. The delicious food pulverized to a lump in her guts. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ll fly you.”

She didn’t protest. The flight would be faster. She didn’t know what she would say to her boss. Just that she was sure she’d locked the door.

But she’d let the woman inside…

No, she’d locked it again after the woman was outside. Had she tugged the door just to be sure? She hadn’t. So, maybe the door hadn’t latched. Then, a criminal had pushed in and wreaked havoc.

Her stomach rolled.

Peridot paid at the front, helped her into her wool coat, and escorted her out. He was grim. Right now, his silence was what she needed. Chattering would only make her more nervous. She put her arms around his powerful shoulders. They rose into the icy air.

The city floated below. Ice pricked her cheeks. The low clouds tasted like snow.

“I hope it doesn’t snow tomorrow,” she said idly. “If we get a foot of snow like they’ve been predicting, I’ll have no choice but to cancel the cookie exchange.”

He grunted.

They descended to the pet salon. Her stomach rose into her throat even though his descent was gentle. He touched the ground.

His shoes crunched glass.

He lifted up again. His arms around her tightened.

She did not ask to be let down. Not this time.

The glass had been broken out of the front door. Its frame was propped open with a rock. On the street beside her rested an overturned monitor. Farther was the salon’s appointment computer. Its wires trailed helplessly.

Peridot floated through the propped door.

Inside, her boss was hugging her elbows and answering questions for a police officer.

“Karmel.” Her voice broke. “Look what happened.”

Monica looked as broken as her salon. She’d pulled her black hair into a severe bun and wore a puffed coat and grimy sweatpants instead of her usual tailored pink or yellow pantsuits. Tortoiseshell glasses shaded her worried eyes.

Peridot let Karmel down on a clean spot on the inside floor.

She crossed through the shampoo and hugged Monica. “I’m so sorry.”

Her boss took a deep, shaky breath. “What are we going to do?”

The police officer answered. “First, I’d cover up the door. If you have a board…”

Peridot yanked the sheet of plywood Karmel had painted for the holiday backdrop from the wall. The Instagram camera flickered. In the meager flash, his hands shimmered green. He pulled out the nails she’d tapped to hold it into place.

“That’ll do. The next thing is to contact your building insurance.”

Peridot positioned it over the doorway.

“We’ll do our best to find your vandal but if you’re not sure the door closed, it could have been any transient.”

Monica pulled back. “Did you shut everything down? Did you lock the door? Are you sure?”

“I think so.”

“Think?” Her boss’s lips trembled. “I trusted you.”

Karmel wanted to die.

She was a screw-up. She tried to do too many things and when her irresponsibility crashed around her, her stupid positive attitude didn’t help anyone.

“Forensics will not help us here.” The police officer folded her notebook. “With no security cameras, the odds of us finding who did this are low.”

Cameras. Security cameras.

“The Instagram camera,” Karmel said.

Monica looked at her. “What?”

“I did not shut everything down. A woman came in to argue with me and I forgot to shut down the Instagram camera.”

Monica bit her lip. “Mmm. Could that dinky camera capture anything?”

“It flashed just now. It got a picture of Peridot.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“It’s not a strong flash. Here.” The salon’s Instagram account loaded onto her phone starting with the most recent. A gray blur with a hint of green. “There. Peridot’s arm.”

The next figures were blurry, but the place was already trashed so probably they’d been triggered by Monica and the police officer. Then…

“Here we go!” She clicked through the incriminating pictures.

Darkness. Blurry darkness.

Her heart sank.

The intruder was a shadowy, blurry figure in a dark-ish suit with light-ish hair. He was skinnier and shorter than a man like Peridot, but so was most of the population.

“We’ll never identify the criminal,” Karmel admitted bleakly.

Peridot grunted. “It is her.”

“Her! Her who?”

“The female who kept you late.”

“What?” Her heart raced. The mere mention of that entitled older customer made her sweat. “How do you know?”

“What woman?” Monica asked.

“She brought in Rose Pudge,” Karmel explained. “Or, her granddaughter brought in Rose Pudge. She forced her way in after closing to demand I comp her grooming for free.”

“Free! I hope you gave her my card.”

“I did, but that wasn’t good enough. She wanted it ‘stricken from the record.’”

“Stricken? Whoah, whoah, whoah. Is this Legal Lori?”

“Navy suit, white heels.” Peridot pointed at a corner of the last photo. Karmel zoomed to a reflection in the grooming suite glass. The image was arguably a navy suit and white shoes.

Karmel scrolled through the pictures again. She zoomed in each one to the reflection. The woman walked closer to the grooming suite window. The older woman’s face was blurry but almost visible in the last one.

“That could be Legal Lori,” Monica mused. “She’s a retired lawyer. I don’t know if she took a turn after retirement or if she’s always been a fruit loop, but she’s in a custody battle with Olivia’s parents. The mother told me all about it.”

“Poor Olivia,” Karmel murmured. “That woman should not be around children.”

“The custody battle is over Rose Pudge.”

“Oh! Uh, or dogs.”

“She’s reported them for animal cruelty several times. She’s never supposed to have the dog and I’m sure she’s never supposed to have Olivia, either.” Monica called over the police officer. “This woman is a customer of ours. Last month, I refused to release her custody-disputed dog and she threatened to burn my shop to the ground.”

“Did you file a report?”

“No.” Monica grimaced. “I thought they were empty threats.”

“These photos are not rock solid.” The police officer was grim, but she took Monica’s client card for Rose Pudge and got the location for Legal Lori. “I’ll speak with her and see if she wants to incriminate herself.”

Monica thanked her. The police officer left for Legal Lori’s residence. They secured the shop with Peridot’s plywood.

It wasn’t fair. Monica had worked hard to get a business loan and open her own salon, and two days before Christmas a customer on Karmel’s watch had destroyed it.

Her boss’s shoulder sagged. “I might have to skip your cookie exchange.”

“I understand.” Karmel stood outside the dark shop on the crunchy glass. “I’m sorry, Monica. I’m sure I locked up.”

“I’m sure you did. She probably threw a brick.”

They hadn’t found one. And even if they had, it was on Karmel. “I should have handled her differently.”

“Oh, come here.” Monica pulled her into a hug. “I’m just glad you had a friend here to keep you safe.”

She hid her face in the white puff. “Sorry.”

“I’m serious. That woman is clearly dangerous and if the police don’t arrest her, we don’t know what she’ll do.”

“She wouldn’t dare come back.”

“I dismissed my gut feeling before. Never again.” Monica patted Karmel’s shoulder while looking at Peridot. “Do you have a ride home?”

Karmel jerked her finger over her shoulder. “My apartment’s only a few blocks.”

“Yes,” Peridot said.

“Good. Have a safe night.” Monica got in her hybrid and drove away.

The weight of the evening pressed on Karmel’s shoulders. “All I wanted to do was impress my boss and make my customers happy.”

Peridot tugged her into his arms. “Let me take you home.”

She accepted without argument.

How much more was she going to screw up?

Peridot held Karmel close.

She was sad.

He appreciated the quiet.

Because it helped him tamp down his fury.

This was a human affair. Dragons must not interfere. He must not hunt the crazed older female or challenge her to a fight. He must not shift into his dragon form and rend her into strips for daring to threaten his—

His what? Not mate. Karmel had not agreed to become his mate.

He had not asked.

And she did not look well. Now was not the right time.

Then what was Karmel? His friend? His confidante? His most desired female?

His?

Yes. She was his.

No one dared to threaten his.

Peridot flew to her lair. In the quiet, semi-residential neighborhood, hers was the top apartment in an old building. Colored bulbs twinkled in the windows.

He landed on the front steps.

She stepped back. Exhaustion mixed with an unusual look of defeat. She tugged her mischievous curls back in the chill wind. “Thanks for everything tonight.”

“I’ll see you in.”

She buzzed them in with her key. “Okay. You must be tired. I’m going to start baking.”

“I will help.”

“You’ve already saved me. Several times. You’ve more than done enough.” She pulled the door.

He rested his foot in the jamb. “Can I help?”

“I can’t ask you.” She thudded the door against his foot three times without seeming to realize the reason it didn’t close. “You don’t deserve to get stuck … stuck in … stuck in my…”

“…in your ‘bad planning’ bed?”

“Yeah.” She blinked and realized what was going on. Her chest rose and fell. “What?”

“I’m still hoping for an invitation.”

“You are? Seriously?”

He pushed the door open wider.

Her lush lips parted. Her pink tongue wet her lower lip. “Come in.”

He ensured the door was locked behind him.

Peridot would never have done this to Star Sapphire. He would never reveal his desires and make himself vulnerable.

For Karmel, he would risk.

Together, they crossed the huge, empty lobby.

A new briskness animated her movements. “Here’s where we’ll hold the cookie exchange.”

Their footprints shone in the dust. “You still need to clean.”

“Yeah.”

He added it to his internal task list.

“This building was once a community center,” Karmel said, “back in the seventies. The three upper floors were converted into apartments. The bottom floor was supposed to be converted into a restaurant but the landlord ran out of enthusiasm. There’s a bunch of weird propane tanks and commercial kitchen appliances rusting in the backyard.”

They took the elevator to the top floor. She unlocked her door and let him inside.

He had been here before with Syenite and Eva. Never just with Karmel.

Her lair was homey. A futon couch lounged in front of a small television. Art Deco chairs crowded the room. She removed her shoes, hung her coat on the door hook, and crossed her shaggy cream carpet.

Red, green, blue, and yellow lights danced around windows. A spindly Douglas fir grew in a white five-gallon bucket. A tree skirt flared from the base. Wrapped packages rested against the plastic.

“You decorated,” he said.

Her lips curved. “Don’t be silly. This is nothing.”

She trudged down the hall to her kitchen. Tiredness dragged her stride.

“I will clean the lobby,” he called.

“Wait.” She leaned back into the hall. “Will you keep me company?”

He sauntered to her. “I will.”

“Thanks.” She tied her hair into a curly knot at her nape and donned a flour-dusted apron. “I’m still feeling shook up and I appreciate having a big, strong … having you close.”

She washed her hands, opened cabinets, and arranged baking supplies.

He rested a hip against a counter and watched her.

The kitchen was what he would count as “decorated.” More lights twinkled around the windows, the skylight overhead, and draped across succulents and spider plants. On a shelf above the back wall, a collection of painted nutcrackers stared out at him.

“I can feel your doubt,” she said.

He glanced over.

Her skeptical look challenged him on every level.

“I see decorations,” he said.

“I knew it! Look. See, here. This is decorated.” She opened her laptop computer on the tiny side table. Monochrome houses scrolled past. “God, I’d love to make these glassed-in white candles with a tinsel garland around the base. Here are glass vases full of ornaments.”

He eased closer, sensing her body heat through the thin fabric. “Mm.”

“I bought the components today but I don’t really need them so I’ll … er, well, anyway.” She straightened, brushing against him, and gestured at the screen. “See any you like?”

He clenched his teeth on his groan. She had to know what she was doing to him. “I see a lot I like.”

“And this is the secret project I wasted my time on this morning.” She lifted a small, brown disk imprinted with a paw print. “They could be an ornament or a paperweight. But if I take the impression at the start of an appointment, it won’t dry by the end. I tried to microwave one. It swelled out of shape.”

The ornament smelled like her only stronger. So, that was why she’d been infused with an aroma of cinnamon and sugar.

“Perhaps you can prepare them in advance.”

“Not unless I break into people’s houses.” She replaced the ornament. “People entrust us with their pups. I wanted to give back a precious memory to treasure.”

His chest hummed. “You will be a good mother.”

“Someday.” She sighed. “For the time being, this apartment won’t even let me keep pets.”

Then, she cast a glance at him over her shoulder. A cute smile teased her lips. “Why? Are you offering?”

“Offering what?”

She laughed and waved him off. A click at the keyboard and a playlist of soft, jazzy music started. Karmel backed to the counter and sorted her ingredients. “Nothing. Just fantasizing. Hand me that silver bowl above the stove, will you?”

He rose the extra few inches into the air and collected the large bowl hanging from a peg in the skylight.

“There’s a stepladder behind the … oh.” She took the bowl he handed to her, glanced up at the skylight and then at him, and shook herself. “Right. Okay, let me wash these bowls and glasses in the sink, and we’ll get started.”

“What are ‘we’ making?”

“The fastest, fanciest cookies I can manage.”

While milk chocolate liquefied in her candy melter, Peridot mashed Oreo cookies with gooey cream cheese, rolled the sweet mixture into balls, and lined them on trays for her freezer. Karmel measured and mixed a sugary white dough in a stand mixer. She put the mixer bowl in the fridge and handed him a beater.

“Give it a lick.” She tangled her tongue around the metal spines. “Mm. Sinful.”

“It is sinful?” He savored the white mixture.

“Basic food safety: Never eat raw cookie dough.” She licked it clean. “But everyone does.”

“I am immune to human diseases.”

“Lucky. You can eat that which is forbidden.”

She put the dishes in the sink and filled them with soapy water. Her energy seemed to grow as the night stretched. She showed him how to dry and stow the dishes, then pulled out a dark bottle of Lady Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur.

“Evan and Syen gave this to me, and I looked up cocktails, but it never seemed like a special enough celebration. Let’s celebrate.”

“I can’t get drunk.”

“You wouldn’t get buzzed after one of these, anyway.” She measured two shots into a Mason jar, added shots of Bailey’s and whipped cream vodka, and filled the jar with ice cubes. She capped and shook it. “Poor woman’s cocktail shaker.”

He dipped his head.

She strained the beige liquid into two slender glasses, sprayed a dollop of canned whipped cream on top, and dusted the drinks with cocoa.

She handed him a glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” He clinked the glass and sipped.

Creamy, frothy, and sweet. Dangerous, like the cranberry martini. But not as dangerous as Karmel’s tender smile.

“It’s a White Chocolate Kiss,” she said brightly. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! I forgot. A super important question: Which is your favorite chocolate?”

“My favorite?”

“Let’s find out.” She stirred the lumpy, semi-melted chocolate and drizzled some over his rim. It oozed over his fingers. She giggled. “Oops.”

He licked his index finger. “Be good. I might reciprocate.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“What do you want it to be?”

Her smile faltered. Her gaze trailed over his jaw to his shirt collar. Her tongue touched her parted lips.

The kitchen grew fiery hot.

Was this an opportunity? He had allowed Star Sapphire to escape because he would not boldly chase after her. Did he need to press Karmel now?

She sucked in a breath and shifted back. “Um, the chocolate’s almost melted, so it’s time for the next step.” Karmel got out the chilled Oreo balls and showed him how to cover them in milk chocolate. “One tray to exchange and one tray for sale. Anyone who doesn’t want to bring their own cookies can buy them. Or anyone who wants extra. All proceeds go to charity.”

He argued with himself as he worked.

Antagonizing her was the last thing he wanted. Tonight’s tentative friendship was a significant step forward. He had time to woo her. Confirm her feelings. Draw her into his embrace.

Unless he disappointed her.

His chest hurt.

He would not destroy this chance.

Peridot finished coating the cookie balls in chocolate.

“You’re a natural born chocolatier. I bet you could handle tempering. I always get distracted and mess up the second stage.” Karmel took off her apron. “Here. Let’s determine your favorite baking supplies. Start with rainbow sprinkles.”

He cupped the small sprinkles. “In one night, you will turn my world upside down.”

“That’s the idea.”

As he taste-tested, he memorized the luscious shape of her backside sliding beneath the blue fabric. How he’d flip the hem, stroke her bare skin, and thrust his cock into her pleasure-slick channel…

She whirled. Her dress flared, exposing a hint of thigh. “Need more of anything?”

More you. More naked.

“More whipped cream.”

“Good choice. I’m a chocolate lover myself, but I could eat whipped cream straight out of the can. Now, if they made chocolate whipped cream, I’d never need another thing.”

She placed his finished truffles in the fridge and shook the whipped cream. “Want another drink? Or straight out of the can?”

“What do you recommend?”

She sprayed a dollop on her finger, licked it off, and glanced at him slyly.

Karmel was an irresistible temptation.

He held out his fingers. She sprayed another dollop. He stuck the sweetness in his mouth.

Rich and substantial, filling and frothy, sweet but also satisfying.

Like Karmel.

“Another?” she asked. The heat of the kitchen made her honey-brown eyes dark and her cheeks flush.

One taste only made him crave more.

He nodded.

She sprayed the dollop on her fingers and quickly smudged it on his lips. “Got you! Ha ha.”

He caught her hand.

She laughed and tugged away. “Sorry, sorry. You can reciprocate. I’m prepared. You’re always so perfect. I wanted to mess you up.”

Perfect. Her word for his silent compliance. The shield he hid behind.

He always followed the rules. He was predictable. Dull.

“So mess me up,” he said. “Karmel.”

Her laughter died. Her lips parted. “Peridot?”

He teased the cream off her sweet fingertips. His tongue laved her red and green nails.

“P-peridot.”

He backed her into the counter. Placing one hand on the cool laminate to keep her in place, he reached over her shoulder and dipped his fingers in the melted chocolate. He lifted the liquid to her lips. “Or do you want me to reciprocate?”

She sucked in a breath and raised her hand. “I was just teasing.”

He stopped.

She pushed him back. “And I took it too far. I’m sorry. I’m tired and you’re beautiful and my self-preservation is in pieces. So if you don’t want to start a relationship, then stop right now.”

He touched the chocolate to her lips. The smooth liquid shone like a sweet invitation.

“Be serious.” She covered his mouth. “Peridot.”

“I am always serious.” He nipped her fingertips.

She shivered. “I won’t forgive you if this is a joke.”

“I have always wanted you.”

“You ran away from me.”

“I ran from my desires. Tonight you showed me what I was missing. And I want more, Karmel. I crave you.” He risked everything for her. “Become my mate.”

Karmel reeled.

Peridot wanted her? For his mate?

Impossible. He barely tolerated her. Until today. He’d shared himself, unveiled his vulnerabilities, made her fall harder.

And now, his gorgeous green eyes flared with focus. His hard abdomen sandwiched her against the kitchen counter. His thick cock pressed her belly, stealing her breath.

The chocolate he’d teased across her lips coated her tongue.

This was a dream.

“Me?” she whispered.

“You.”

“Since when?”

“Since the first moment.” He nibbled the corner of her mouth. “When you told me I could reinvent myself as someone new.”

“That long ago?”

“I was very certain my life was over.” He nuzzled her cheek. His stubble scraped her in a way that pinged in her belly. Male. Marking her. She shivered. “Your words gave me the will to try again.”

Her heart melted.

And so did her panties.

“You avoided me.” She struggled against his sizzling kisses. “You ran away.”

“I didn’t want someone as beautiful, kind, and resilient as you to think I was dull.”

Oh!

She caught his cheeks in her hands.

He blinked on her in surprise.

She insisted hotly, “You are not dull, Peridot! You’re smart, hard-working, and determined. And anyone who spends even a minute nearby will see that you are absolutely wonderful.”

His expression softened. “You are charitable.”

“I’m not saying it to be kind! I’m saying it because it’s true.”

His lips tugged into the ghost of that long-ago smile. “Any dragon who heard such words would fight to make you his mate.”

“Well, too bad. I already belong to you.”

His expression fell to shock. And then his large hands curled around her waist. She tasted the full strength of his fiery, possessive, gorgeous heat. “You accept my claim?”

“I do.”

Pure male exaltation made her insides gooey as the milk chocolate.

He slid one hand up to the base of her head. “Then, in the dragon way, we seal our promise with our bodies.” He lowered his head.

Karmel twined her arms around his neck and lilted her chin.

Peridot’s kiss tasted like chocolate whipped cream.

It set her on fire.

His lips were firm, powerful, and addictive. His tongue stroked her seam. She opened for him. He thrust in.

She coated herself with his masculine strength.

He crushed her against the counter and kissed down the column of her neck. She moaned and tipped her head to give him greater access. It incited his passion to new fierceness.

Peridot unzipped her dress, peeled it off, and lifted her onto the counter. The whipped cream canister rolled away and sugar and sprinkles scattered. Her underwear-clad butt rested on the ledge. He stared at her exposure like a man starved. His desire, always kept tautly controlled, had been unleashed.

How had she never known this male needed her like this? What had she been doing all this time?

He cupped her cotton bra. Her breasts swelled and tingled. Her nipples came up to sharp points of attention.

“They’re plain,” she apologized. “Underwear is the only thing you can’t get at a thrift store for cheap.”

“Cotton frosting.” He unpeeled the bra and lifted her breasts free. Cool air made her nipples contract. “Here is the cake.”

His hot mouth closed over her and his tongue swirled the dusky nipple.

Sweet aching shot to her center.

She arched her back, opening herself to him, and stroked his hair. The brown, silken strands slipped through her fingers, a finer texture than she’d imagined. Now she knew this secret detail about him. It made her warm and happy.

He treated her other breast to the same succulent worship. Her feminine center throbbed, begging for his touch. As though hearing her wish, he peeled off her underwear, leaving her naked on the counter.

She reached for his suit buttons. Unwrapping him, her own personal Christmas present.

Rippling pecs, hard abs, a shimmer of green scales that disappeared as he contorted. He unzipped his trousers. The tailored slacks pooled around his ankles. White briefs outlined his package.

Her mouth went dry.

Massive thighs flexed as he removed his loafers, socks, and finally, his briefs. A fully nude, Greek statue of a male filled her kitchen. His treasure trail led to a cock that had every reason to stand proud.

And he wanted that proud cock to be hers.

Her pussy throbbed.

She’d wanted him for so long.

“I’m really glad you didn’t leave on your socks,” she commented, trying to lighten the heart-swelling emotion flooding her.

“There can be no hiding in this, our first mating.” He rested his forehead against hers. His cock teased her trembling thighs. “You see me as I am. Flawed and disgraced. And I see you as you are. Beautiful and enticing.”

“I think I made out better,” she laughed, over her shaky need. “You’re incredible.”

“Look carefully. Know that I, Peridot Ovaline, am the male you wish for your mate.”

Mate.

Dragon-speak for serious engagement.

Karmel pressed her index finger to his hot chest. “You sure you want me?”

He nodded. His brown hair flopped, tousled.

“Prepare for things to get messy. You’re not going to be ‘perfect’ if you’re dragged around by me.”

“Understood.” He owned her mouth with his kiss.

She broke free with a gasp. “Did you have any conditions?”

“No.” He scooted her to the edge of the counter, leaned her against the cabinets, and unplugged the candy melter. With a half-lidded, lazy smile she would have never imagined possible on the uptight male, he drizzled chocolate on her nipples. “I’m ready to enjoy my ‘mess’ now.”

She leaned on her elbows. “You must have expectations for me.”

“Smile.” He lapped the chocolate from her breasts and sucked the nipples into his mouth. Her feminine heat slicked. “Laugh. Tease. Keep me guessing.” He tongued to her mons and spread her legs, filling his gaze with her glistening, chocolate-coated pinkness. “Feed me treats.”

He licked her inner lips.

Pleasure shot to her center. She moaned.

“Give me your sweetness, Karmel.”

She canted her hips, opening for him.

He feasted on her delicate nub and coated her sex-lips with chocolate-scented honey. Her insides buzzed like bees, boiling for release. He stroked her like a master, painting her with pleasure.

She begged for him. “Fill me.”

He released her nub and surged up her body. His cock nudged her throbbing, wet entrance. Pleasure popped like pink champagne bubbles with his touch.

She needed him inside. Karmel wrapped her legs around his taut buttocks and squeezed.

He eased in. His cock caressed her. It felt like Christmas morning.

The adult kind.

Delicious fizzes sparked in her brain. Everything Peridot did was perfection.

She moaned.

He thrust deep, filling her feminine channel, stroking her insides like a ribbed pleasure wand. He locked onto her eyes, focusing his full intensity, barely breathing as he plunged in and out of her slickness. She skirted the rim of a honey-sweet orgasm.

“You are beautiful, Karmel.”

The devotion in his gaze took her breath away. He meant every thrust, every word, every caress. Every word of sweet love.

She curled her fingers around his stubbled jaw.

He growled.

She exploded. The orgasm raced through her veins like a hundred Christmas poppers, champagne foaming out the neck of the bottle, fizzing through her whole body.

He filled her channel with sweet, hot liquid and collapsed on his palms. His forehead dropped to her shoulder. Shudders wrecked his body. At this moment of vulnerability, he trusted in her to keep him safe.

She felt the same way.

After a long moment, he lifted his head again. His eyes were damp. He swiped her lips in a satisfied kiss. This was the love she had waited for. Soft, sweet, and sticky from the sugar.

Peridot eased free. He was floating several inches above the linoleum and landed on the ground with a firm thump. Sticky sanding sugar and chocolate powder dusted them.

She giggled. “Not so perfect now.”

“I was never perfect.” He lifted her by the waist and eased her onto the floor. “Just in your dreams.”

“Then, I must not have woken up yet because you still look amazing.”

He poured himself a drink of water and finished it in one long pull. Silhouetted, his form was the kind that male models envied.

Her fingers stuck together. “Shower?”

He fished his cell phone out of his trousers pocket, frowned, and folded his clothes across the back of her kitchen chair.

A twinge of familiar discomfort needled into her newfound confidence. “Or do you have to go?”

“I can stay a few hours.” He frowned.

Worry and another emotion flowed under his taut tone. What was the other emotion? Guilt?

She crossed her arms over her sticky, nude chest. “What?”

“I am dirty. Now it would be most efficient to clean.”

“The lobby? No. Cleaning requires putting on clothes.”

“Does it?”

“It does.” She put her newfound fears out of her mind. Whatever he felt guilty about she would learn in the morning. “Come. Shower. We’ll work out your ‘schedule’ after we’re both clean.”

He frowned.

“I’m your mate.” She took his hand and tugged him to the shower. “Don’t argue. There are better uses of our time when we’re both naked.”

Ching.

Peridot woke to an ice-crusted gray morning.

Karmel’s sleeping arm draped across his naked chest. He floated in a bed soft as whipped cream. Her maroon velvet blankets cocooned their bodies like chocolate coating.

Ching. His phone chimed a second time.

He sucked in a deep breath and eased out from under his sleeping mate.

Mate. He, disgraced Peridot, had earned his mate.

He took his earbud from Karmel’s bedside side table and put it in his ear. They had finished their shower late. He eased into her hallway, pulled the bedroom door closed, and murmured. “Sir?”

“Why have you remained at the human lair all night?”

“Karmel has agreed to become my mate.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, si—”

“Return at once.”

He froze in the middle of the hallway. His suit folded over the back of the chair; one sleeve was visible from this angle. But Sard had ordered him to move at once.

Peridot unlatched the glass sliding door onto the back balcony. Ice-flecked air melted on contact with Karmel’s hot kitchen. He secured the door. Ice particles stung his human skin. He flexed to impenetrable dragon scales and launched, naked, into the frozen sky.

Hopefully, this would not take long. He did not wish for Karmel to wake up alone on Christmas Eve. And he still had to arrange cleaning and decorations for the cookie exchange while she baked her sugar cookies.

The solution to one problem rested with Sard.

His wings pumped through the icy clouds. His nostrils snorted hot breath that crusted. His olive green scales shimmered with an icicle’s coating.

The human planet had never looked so beautiful.

Sard’s spaceship emerged from the clouds like a foreboding ceiling. He flew into the heart of the ship to Sard’s conference chamber.

Normally, Sard conducted business in his Earth office building, but the human employees had demanded a Christmas holiday. Sard had generously granted their demand. He’d closed the office for two days midweek. Business would resume the day after Christmas and they would work on the weekend.

Strangely, the human employees hadn’t seemed grateful for his substitution. All mutterings about a day off for the human “New Year” had quieted. They preferred to keep their weekend vacations on the Saturdays and Sunday, as was the human tradition.

Sard was a most understanding, flexible boss.

Peridot landed inside the corridor and padded on his four clawed feet across the impenetrable metal. Other dragons greeted him as he passed; some in human suits, others in dragon form. At the door, he shifted back to human form, nodded at the guards, and entered Sard’s office.

Sard Carnelian looked up from his desk. “You did not delay.”

He lowered his gaze. “Sir.”

“I can always rely on you to obey orders.”

The heavyweight aristocrat rested his elbows on the desk. His casual gray button-up shirt pulled back at his large wrists. Distinguished silver ornaments at his eyebrows showed he was a proper aristocrat.

Peridot screwed up his courage. “You offered me the resources of Carnelian Clothiers while I resolved the ‘Christmas spirit’ question.”

One brow rose. “I did.”

“I need every available dragon for the next four hours.”

“For?”

“My mate, Karmel, has advertised a ‘cookie exchange.’ Are you familiar with ‘cookies’?”

“Small, crunchy disks. Thick crackers.”

“They come in many varieties.”

Peridot described the chocolate truffles and sugar cookies. His boss listened with one hand resting on his chin. Behind Peridot, the guard dragons shuffled near the door.

He finished. “And to set up this event, she needs assistance. That is why I would like to offer our resources.”

“I would allow this.” Sard let his hands drop to the desk with a hard clap. “But you have failed me.”

Peridot’s stomach dropped. “Sir?”

“I acquired the human ‘nativity scene’ and presented it to my contact. She laughed with the high-pitched tone humans call ‘hysterical’ and said to stop contacting her because I would never understand.”

The office silence was heavy.

“You appreciate my disappointment.”

Peridot could barely speak. He cleared his throat. “Sir.”

“I trusted you, Peridot. You are my most serious dragon. Yet you gained a mate instead of answering my research question. What do you have to say for yourself?”

He shook his head. There could be no explanation. Only shame.

“Then you will not protest the consequences. The next shipment leaves for Draconis in two hours. Inform the pilot of his reprieve. You will take his place.”

The lump in his throat hardened. He could only nod.

How would he explain this to Karmel? The flight to Draconis would last through the New Year. Who would support her?

But he could not argue. Sard’s orders were just.

And surely the pilot dreaded returning to Draconis as much as he did. As much as any of them did. They had to endure the shame. Barred from old places. Shunned by former friends. Ignored by family. Jeered by the low caste.

He had proved his worthlessness.

Now he would explain himself to Karmel and see her own hopes crumple with his disappointment.

“Go,” Sard ordered him.

He turned to leave.

“Peridot!” One guard burst into the room. “Your mate’s lair is under attack.”

An electric wire burned in his chest. “What?”

“A massive fire has broken out in her apartment complex!”

* * *

Karmel rolled over in the bed, yawned, and stretched.

Her muscles ached. Pleased with the workout.

Mmm.

She looked over at the extra pillow.

The head impression was empty and cool. But one of Peridot’s brown hairs was still on the case. She buried her nose in the tousled sheets. Male musk. Her pussy throbbed. Her bed still smelled like him.

She creaked out of bed. They’d gone to sleep way too late. Why was she awake so early? And feeling so revitalized?

Probably the spectacularly yummy sex had something to do with it.

She’d like another helping, please.

Where was Peridot?

Oh, he was probably working on the cookie exchange. Cleaning, or decorating, or … Oof. The pile of tasks she still had to do thumped on her head. No second helpings of sex until after she finished her work.

Coffee. She would need coffee.

She pulled on her chamois bathrobe and padded down the hall to her kitchen. No Peridot. His clothes still hung over the chair. He couldn’t have gone too far.

Was he cleaning naked? The idea made her snort. For her neighbor’s sake—and everyone passing by the lobby windows—she sure hoped not.

Actually, the weather looked like it might sleet. Traffic was quiet. A new worry twanged. Peridot had said he would arrange the delivery of the decorations today with the help of his dragons. But if the clouds ripped open to a blizzard—or freezing rain coated the streets in deadly ice—then the cookie exchange would be shut down like God had pressed the seasonal “off” button.

She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. Hopefully, that wouldn’t happen.

Karmel set her cookie dough on the counter to take the chill off. She filled and plugged in the coffee maker, and then headed down the hall, still yawning, to wash her face.

First things first.

She’d get herself ready, bake the cookies, and trust in Peridot. She’d waltz into the lobby ready to go. For once, she wouldn’t be a hot mess. She’d be on time. Supervising. Ready.

Karmel double-checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror. Everything had to be perfect.

And it was.

The woman wearing makeup — nice makeup! — that highlighted her eyes stared back with excitement and confidence. She was no longer a frumpy pet groomer who always seemed to run late, with lipstick smudged and coffee forgotten on the stained counter.

Today, she was ready early.

For once, the warm glow of laughter and cheer would fill her isolated building. It would be like having her family home for the holidays. Finally.

It was all thanks to Peridot.

Last night had been amazing. Memories made her cheeks crackle. His hands had cupped her tenderly, his hot tongue had swiped across her taut nipples, and hard, commanding, delicious thrusts of his powerful cock had taken her straight to a soul-shattering orgasm.

She smoothed her dress.

After the cookie exchange, she would spend Christmas Eve with Peridot. And Christmas. Her first holiday with a delicious, dangerous, reliable male! They would kiss as they rang in the New Year. How they started their relationship would be how they continued, and Peridot would definitely stay by her side. He knew how important the holidays were. Abandoning her would be a slap in the face.

He would never abandon her.

Something was wrong with the coffee maker. The machine—or was it bad beans?—emitted a stench like burning tires.

She hurried out of the bathroom.

The stench intensified. It was harsh. Bitter. Her throat burned and her head ached.

She raced to the kitchen.

The wind outside roared. Heat emanated like she’d left the oven door open and strange shadows reflected on her hall floor. She reached the doorway.

The coffee maker was fine.

But the back wall of the kitchen was engulfed in roaring yellow flames.

How did I screw up this time? I didn’t even turn the oven on yet.

Acrid black smoke engulfed her.

Her eyes and throat burned.

She stumbled back. Cough. Cough, cough.

Too big for a fire extinguisher. She had to call 911.

Phone!

She dropped to her knees and crawled.

Oily black smoke roiled down the hallway like a river, staining her silver garlands.

Cough.

Her purse. New COACH. Was in her bedroom.

Cough. Cough, cough, cough.

She pushed open the bedroom door and crawled in.

Cough, cough cough cough cough.

There, on the bedside table. Her purse. She reached inside. Fumbled for the metal.

She couldn’t stop coughing.

Couldn’t catch her breath.

Her bedroom window blackened.

Smoke writhed like an evil spirit. It swirled around the closed window, burning her. She dropped below the searing heat. How had the fire spread so fast? She crawled back to the hall and gagged.

Could she make it to the front door?

Crunch.

Behind her, green claws tore into the bedroom wall. Drywall exploded. The entire wall pulled away.

Her alarm clock teetered off her nightstand and fell three stories to the street.

A dragon had ripped her apartment wall off.

He landed on the bedroom floor next to her and shifted.

Long claws slid back into his shrinking hands and feet. His tail sucked up into his fine backside, and his dragon neck shortened while his eye ridges receded into an all-too-familiar worried expression. Green scales shimmered into his smooth human skin.

Peridot was all human.

And naked.

He scooped her into his arms and flew her free.

Icy cold scratched at her bare skin.

She hugged his warm, nude body and shivered. “There’s a fire.”

Her voice croaked in her raw throat.

“We saw it on our sensors.” He floated her to a small crowd gathered across the street. “Dragons have deployed to hunt your attacker.”

“Attacker?”

Black and yellow smoke billowed up into the atmosphere. Sirens wailed in the distance. Help was coming.

Her teeth chattered. She stroked his nude back. “You must be cold.”

“No.” Heat radiated off his body like a soothing space heater. A puddle melted around his bare feet. “But you are coughing.”

She coughed up black phlegm. Gross. “Smoke inhalation.”

“We must go to the med bay and heal your cough.”

“Was everyone evacuated?”

He hugged her. “Let me heal you.”

“There’s the landlord.” She stumbled on her wet, frigid socked feet.

The landlord looked shaken and confirmed that everyone had escaped.

Her knees shook.

Peridot caught her. He held her tight.

A fire truck parked on the far side of the building and hosed the apartments. An ambulance pulled up and workers gave her, the shell-shocked landlord, and Peridot blankets. Her shivers subsided.

She felt hollow.

The fire had consumed her nutcracker collection. And her sugar cookie dough warming on the counter. She’d been about to make the royal icing.

Her laptop had been in the kitchen. If the fire hadn’t destroyed it, the gushing hose did.

Her bedroom was wrecked. And the COACH bag Peridot had bought. Her chunky shoes.

A commotion—screaming and struggling—drowned out the sirens.

Two men in impeccable business suits marched a bedraggled, grimy woman through the disaster scene and presented her to a police officer guarding the perimeter.

“This human female originated the fire,” the blond man said. “We observed her on our sensors.”

“Let go of me!” the woman screamed. “I did nothing. This is an outrage. Libel. Assault!”

Recognition jolted Karmel.

It was Legal Lori. Or, whatever her name was. She was even wearing the same navy blue pantsuit but her heels were no longer white.

“You have any proof?” the police officer asked her captors.

The businessmen—tall, they must be Peridot’s dragon coworkers—looked at each other.

“I am an innocent victim,” Legal Lori said. “They chased me. Arrest them!”

The two dragons turned to Peridot for guidance. The older woman followed their gazes. Her eyes rested on Karmel.

Recognition twisted Legal Lori’s face to hate. She screamed. “You selfish, house-wrecking witch. You were supposed to die!”

Karmel went cold.

Peridot turned protectively, hiding her from the toxic woman behind his steady shoulder.

“It’s your fault my son and daughter-in-law have turned against me. You sent police to embarrass me in the middle of my party. I shouldn’t have destroyed your trashy salon last night. I should have set it on fire while you were inside!”

The police officer got out his cuffs. “Time to go to the station.”

“Christmas is ruined, you witch!” Legal Lori shrieked.

Deep anger welled in Karmel. She raised her voice over Peridot’s protective shield. “Christmas isn’t ruined. I’m having the best cookie exchange ever. Surrounded by my friends and loved ones. You’re the one who will be alone. I will be fi—”

Coughs shredded her throat. She hacked and gasped. Tears burned her eyes.

Officers forced the woman into the police car. Karmel got in the last word. It was worth it.

The dragons nodded at Peridot and flew like super heroes off into the gray skies.

Peridot stroked her back through the blanket. “Now let me heal you.”

She gasped. “I need … to see … what I can salvage…”

His jaw tightened.

“What, Peridot?”

He shook his head. Grim.

Faster than it seemed possible, the fire department extinguished the fire and allowed them to return for the essentials. He flew her up to her apartment.

It stank like a dumpster fire.

Flames had charred the refrigerator. Curdled linoleum crunched beneath her feet. Black scarred her ceiling and walls, and smelly ash dusted every surface.

She picked up the package from her parents under the tree. Soaked paper flaked off.

Everything she had planned with such excitement had burned. The community she’d craved would never happen.

She’d be angry if she wasn’t so numb.

Karmel rubbed her dress. It was stained.

Wasn’t it funny she’d awoken early? She’d prepared. This fire proved she would never manage her life’s chaos. Not even if she stayed awake for a million years. She should never have tried.

The cookie exchange. She still had a responsibility. The homeless pups were relying on her. Criminal selfishness couldn’t win.

Karmel swallowed a harsh cough. “New decorations?”

“Not delivered.” Peridot looked pained.

Their lateness had saved them. “Deliver them to a new location. To … uh … to the pet salon.”

He winced.

No, the pet salon had been ruined last night. By the same short-sighted, cruel, uncharitable Grinch.

“To … somewhere else.” She really needed to see his doctors for the smoke inhalation. It was so hard to think. “Call the delivery. Redirect to…huh.”

“I can’t.”

She looked up at him. “Peridot?”

“I can’t help you, Karmel. I must pilot a ship to Draconis. I will return after the New Year.” He swallowed. Pain broke his voice. “I’m sorry.”

Outside, stained snow flakes flurried.

Peridot saw Karmel’s shoulders slump and the light go out of her soot-rimmed, honey-brown eyes.

“No. Of course not.” She stared dully at the ash-covered, soggy living room.

The wreckage was so different from the bright, cheery space he had left only an hour before.

“I’m very sorry,” he said. “I cannot attend the cookie exchange or spend Christmas with you.”

She sniffed. “I’m … disappointment.”

Pain stabbed him. “It will not happen again.”

She nodded and scratched at the stain on her new dress. Her voice dropped quiet. Mournful. “What am I going to do now?”

Her mournful tone held the same fears as her boss, Monica, the night before.

He was practical. “You must find a new living situation.”

She closed her eyes as if shutting out the truth.

He’d never seen her so lost. She always bounced back. Resilience was her core strength. It hurt him to see her desolation.

She rubbed her face. Black smeared her nose. She didn’t seem to notice.

I’m disappointed.

He shook himself. Peridot needed her to rally. Rise like a phoenix from the ashes. Smile again.

Because if she could do it, then so could he.

If she couldn’t…

He shoved away his old memories and focused on the sweet, kind, hurting woman before him. “Where can you host the cookie exchange?”

She snorted. “The exchange is canceled.”

“Just because I can’t come—”

“No one can come!” She scrubbed angry tears from her cheeks. “Look at this mess.” Her face slid into the lost expression again. She dropped her head into her hands. “It’s useless.”

Useless.

Fear slipped between his ribs like a cold, hard blade.

He gripped her shoulders. “This is the event you’ve been working for.”

“Ruined.”

“You can overcome this setback.”

She dropped her hands. “I can overcome a lot of things, Peridot, but not my apartment literally burning down. The blizzard is coming anyway.” She looked away. “‘Disaster’ is my middle name.”

He couldn’t accept that answer from her. “You’ll figure out a way.”

“What’s the point?”

“Karmel.”

“Don’t you see? This is a sign. Only kids get excited by Christmas. I need to grow up.” She hugged herself. “Christmas is dead.”

How could he help her?

Karmel. His mate. The female he wished to provision with a lair, clothe in the best fabrics, worship with gems and candies.

Think. How had she comforted him?

Ah. Touch.

He pulled her into his arms and stroked her softened hair.

She coughed. “I’m not the resilient person you think I am.”

But she was. She couldn’t disguise her sparkling goodness.

“I will help,” he murmured, into her hair. “For the exchange, what do you need?”

“Everything. A location. Forget it.” She hiccupped. “I don’t even know where I’m going to stay tonight.”

“You will stay with me.”

As soon as he said the words a deep certainty filled him. Yes. She would stay with him. He would ensure it.

“With you?”

“Until I provision our lair, you will stay in our dormitory.”

“Lair?”

“We will create our fortress together. On the top of a mountain or deep cavern.”

Her lost expression faded. She seemed to wake up. “So then your dorms are?”

“On our spaceship.”

“Oh. That’s, uh, a commute.”

“I will show you.” He lifted her into his arms and flew her to the spaceship.

Her eyes were round as wreathes.

First, they stopped in medical. A mist-shower removed the fire stench. It dampened her clothes and evaporated. She breathed in the soothing mist.

“Menthol,” she commented, rubbing her throat. “So this will regrow any missing or scarred throat and lung tissue? When?”

“It should already be working.”

She limped. “Good to know.”

The med bay identified exposure and mild frostbite injuring her feet. He applied healing gel, picked her up, and flew her down the glowing passages to Sard’s office. “You will heal within the hour.”

“Wow.”

He landed at Sard’s office and received permission to enter. Karmel held back while Peridot supplicated his boss.

“We discovered your mate’s attacker and turned her over to human authorities,” Sard growled, making Karmel shrink behind Peridot. “Why are you not finishing the final check for the shipment to Draconis?”

Peridot’s nerves formed a tight, hot ball in his belly. His palms sweated. But his mate needed his protection.

“My mate needs emergency shelter. She will stay in my dorm.”

Sard stood and crossed to the map of the ship’s dorms on the wall. “She will be stranded in your dorm until your return.”

“Th-that’s fine,” Karmel mumbled. “I, uh, won’t have a job until the salon is fixed up anyway.”

“And she needs the common room to host her cookie exchange.”

Sard turned on his black steel-toed boots. Dangerous red gleamed in his eyes. “Needs?”

“Yes. This charity is her Christmas tradition.”

His lips flattened. “You will not be here to assist.”

Peridot’s heart beat faster. “I understand.”

“All other dragons have requested this time to experience a human Christmas. None are here to convey guests or ‘decorate’ or so forth. I will announce this event but possibly no dragon will come to serve for free.”

“I understand,” Peridot said again.

His boss considered his unorthodox request! Before Karmel, he would never have dared to ask. But because of Karmel, he tested his boss’s kindness and found that Sard truly cared for him. His heart beat so fast it almost raced out of his chest.

“How about for cookies?” Karmel said.

Sard had been poised to dismiss them. His teeth shut with a click. “Excuse me?”

“The exchange is for charity so I can’t pay but maybe your dragons would pitch in for free cookies?”

“Sugar and truffle,” Sard mused.

“Those were ruined in the fire. Monica, if she comes, will bring gingersnaps and dip. Eva’s making Russian tea cakes. You can look forward to peanut butter balls, triple-chocolate fudge, gingerbread men, jam pockets, Dulce du Leche shortbread, Christmas tree cookie stacks, Snowman popcorn balls, blueberry meringues, and no-bake pretzel stacks. That’s just the ones I know are confirming.”

Sard stuck out his lower lip. “I do not know if those offerings will compel my dragons—”

“I will convey guests,” one of the dragon guards said from the doorway. “For one cookie?”

“I’m sure you can have more than one,” Karmel promised.

The second guard stepped into the office. “I, too, will convey guests.”

Peridot’s throat closed. The kindness of his coworkers made his heart burst.

“Thank you,” Peridot told them. His voice growled, rough, with gratitude.

Sard’s brows lifted. “There. Two dragons will convey your human guests.”

“And dogs,” Karmel said.

Sard’s frown returned. “Dogs?”

“It’s a holiday cookie exchange to benefit ‘Home for the Howlidays.’ So, it’s open to people and their pets. Is that a problem?”

“If you will find dragons to convey humans and their pets, then no problem.”

Both dragon guards volunteered.

“I will put out the call.” Sard returned to his desk and pressed his communicator. “Peridot. You may have five minutes to settle your mate. Then, you must be gone.”

* * *

Karmel’s bitterness tainted her last moments with Peridot.

He showed her his quarters, promised another dragon would convey her around the massive, blinking-metal-funky-corridors spaceship, and scraped off the gel he’d put on her feet. It tickled and her skin was a reassuring pink.

He then dropped her in the empty, echo-filled common room.

“I will be here for you next year,” he promised.

“Yeah,” she said dully.

“Do not feel sad. This room has a secret.” Peridot glanced at his bare wrist—no Rolex—and took her to a complex control panel. “This button will allow your holiday lights to glow.”

“I don’t have holiday lights.”

He winced. “You will soon. I think.”

Karmel tried to shake off her blues. But it was no use. “Can’t you put off leaving just a few more hours?”

“No.”

“This holiday is important.”

“I understand.”

“Working on Christmas is a break-up-able offense!”

“Yes, I—”

“Agh!” She scrubbed her cheeks. “Leave. Just go. Don’t get in trouble because of me. This time.”

He backed away. “Your exchange will go well.”

“Whatever.”

With many backward glances, he left.

“I’m not going to save you any cookies!” she shouted at the hallway.

Silence.

Why was this any surprise? She was always alone on Christmas. No one cared.

No one.

Well, except Peridot had saved her life. Saved her cookie exchange. Saved her.

Wasn’t she an ungrateful Grinch?

You are the most resilient person I know.

“Argh!” She rubbed her bare face. “I’m not resilient. I’m pissed off!”

When would she accept that life never granted her wishes? Family, community, happiness would never surround her at Christmas. That had died with her grandmother. Even if she did get talked into another cookie exchange it would never match the fantasy in her head.

She would be alone. Even Peridot becoming her mate hadn’t changed that. She could still see the taillights of her dad driving away, leaving them at Christmas.

It tasted bitter as the ash in the back of her throat.

Karmel pulled the stained yellow emergency blanket off, folded it, and set it on the counter.

She needed to do … something … with this sad school cafeteria.

Her phone rang.

Oh, so she got cell service inside the Independence Day-sized ship.

Eva gasped onto the phone. “Syen heard the message, and I saw the news. Are you all right?”

“I survived.” Karmel rubbed her throat. Thank goodness for Peridot or she’d be dead. “Did you know the location changed?”

“Yes! We’re on our way. Oh, I hope it’s okay, but Syen told a lot of dragons about the cookie exchange. You should get plenty of help.”

After the big boss’s bored dismissal, Karmel suspended her belief. “That’d be great.”

“See you soon.”

Karmel hung up, posted she was alive, and then called her confirmed guests with the bad news.

While sorry for what had happened, every single guest was gracious about changing locations.

“I can’t believe you’re still hosting,” Monica said when she called. “It’s inspired me to pack up Princess and head over. Are there any restrictions on what we can bring?”

“Nope,” Karmel said. “The dragons will convey anyone who arrives at the blocked-off street. Er, the decorations might not inspire you.”

“You lost your house. I’ll give it a pass. Oh, and I’ll look forward to the secret project you’ve been hinting at for weeks.”

Karmel’s belly squinched with nerves. “Right. Uh, you’ll see.”

She hung up.

Her secret project. The dough paw prints that never dried.

Just one more reason to panic.

Oh! She should have told her boss to never mind, the prototype had gotten charred in the fire. But then Monica would ask what it had been, and then she’d be in the same place of having a decent idea but no way to execute it.

Bad planning.

One thing at a time. She’d deal with her embarrassment later.

Her greatest fear was that no one would come and look! That fear had disappeared. She should—

No, wait.

That wasn’t her greatest fear.

Her greatest fear was that everyone would come … and they’d be disappointed. The cookie exchange wouldn’t be any fun. She didn’t deserve it.

Just like, deep down, she didn’t believe she deserved any Christmas presents. If you kids didn’t ask for such expensive presents, your dad wouldn’t have to work! After that year, she’d requested nothing for Christmas. Her parents complained she was so hard to buy gifts for. Her siblings didn’t bother.

But her dad had continued to work.

And it was not her fault.

This cookie exchange wasn’t her one and only chance to show how magical the holiday season could be.

She did deserve love.

Karmel stood. “Need Christmas music…”

A dragon peeked in the door.

She waved him over with a welcoming grin. “Thank goodness you’re here! How can I hook up my phone to stream holiday music?”

He strode across the space and examined her phone. Like all dragons, he dressed impeccably in a dark blue business suit that highlighted his lithe, muscular form. His hair was white blond and eyes so pale blue they were almost clear.

After he examined the signals, I’m dreaming of a white Christmas crooned over the speakers. Three dragons arrived with giant boxes from the department store. She spilled the contents and ordered them to find, move, and decorate furniture. Before she knew it, a half-dozen had arrived to soldier for her.

Twinkling candles in tinsel-strewn glass made the long empty tables look festive and romantic.

The white blond dragon shifter approached with a garment bag. “Now that the decorations are complete, Peridot asked me to give this to you.”

She took the garment bag with curiosity. Unzipping revealed gorgeous cranberry-red velvet. “Thank you. Where can I change?”

He assembled a folding screen at the back of the room. On the other side of the screen, he continued his questions. “Your guests will arrive soon. How many cookies are we allowed?”

She zipped the smoothed velvet. The embroidered bodice and flared waist encased her perfectly. “I would think at least a few.”

“I have no cookies to exchange.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” She eased on the velvet slippers.

“How many dragons can attend for these cookies?”

“The more the merrier.”

“If all the dragons attend, they will not have enough cookies.”

“You can buy extras.” She stuffed the smudged dress into the garment bag, hung it on the screen, and walked around to the other side to face him. “It’s a donation exchange.”

“But everyone is curious about these ‘addictive,’ ‘uncontrollably edible’ snacks. There will be no extras to buy.”

Aw. How sweet.

“Don’t worry. I’ve never attended a Christmas party where we ran out of cookies. And if we did, I’m sure the people who exchanged would share their bounty. Sharing is the true spirit of Christmas.”

Wait.

“That’s not the reason Peridot had to work today, is it?” she asked. “He couldn’t switch shifts because you had to ferry my friends and be here?”

“No. That is not the reason.” The male shook his head. “But this exchange is the reason the entire company has returned today, of all days, to visit their dorm rooms. Sard has ordered us to limit our intake. I must calculate the formula for rations. How many dragons will you allow to attend?”

“Ration? No. Invite everybody.”

His brows shot up. “Everybody?”

Only at Karmel’s cookie exchange would the first guests arrive with no cookies. How many dragon aliens were there in Peridot’s company? Running out of cookies would be a disaster.

And that was just like her.

Karmel embraced the disaster. “You’re all welcome.”

Dragon aliens poured into the room. Human guests and happy barking dogs arrived next. The noise level rose and the festivities started.

Everyone was awed and excited to board a real spaceship, and amazed to attend a party chock full of actual, hard-bodied, sexy dragon aliens. Instead of exchanging half the cookies, everyone cheerfully donated both trays to the hungry hordes.

“I forgot how many guests were coming so I brought extra bags of gingersnaps.” Monica flopped her reusable sack on a back counter. Her massive Saint Bernoodle sat well-behaved at her feet. She uncapped a festive, gingerbread man-decorated mug full of cookie spread. “Ooh, I like your holiday card display.”

Karmel had rescued the framed pictures. Her most meaningful memories.

“That’s so cute.” She pointed to a framed picture of Karmel’s first dog, a scruffy beagle, with a little paw print.

Oh.

“That’s my super-secret idea.” Karmel unstuck the picture from the wall. “Wouldn’t it be cute to give out little cards with our customers’ paw prints on it?”

Monica frowned. “How would it work?”

Fear twinged in her belly.

Monica could shoot her down. She could say it was a dumb idea, not fitting for their pet grooming salon, or might upset customers. She could just look at Karmel in confusion, with the silent question, What were you thinking? on her lips. After last night, Monica had reason to wonder.

You are the most resilient person I know.

This was not her only chance.

She deserved to be heard.

And if Monica shot Karmel down, then Karmel would come up with a better idea later. Like always.

“We paint the paw with a safe, non-toxic acrylic like children’s finger paints, and then press it to the cardstock. It takes seconds to dry, we wash off the paw, and then, at the end of the appointment, we present the dried print to the customer as a thank you.”

Monica studied the card. “It’s faded.”

“It’s a little faded because I treasured it so much.”

“Hmm.”

“If we use a neutral color, like black, our customers can receive the keepsake with no specific holiday connotations. We could pre-print the cards with ‘Happy New Year from our family to yours.’ Or something about welcoming the New Year with a fluffy new coat.”

Monica smiled. “And we print the salon information on the back.” She smiled at Karmel. “I like it!”

Monica’s Saint Bernoodle, Princess, woofed.

Yes!

“I’ll entrust you with the project next year.” Monica replaced the card in the frame. “You know, our salon has been doing really well since you joined us. I’ve been thinking about expanding to a second location. You’ve always shown great drive and dedication, staying late for last-minute appointments, or coming up with new ideas to promote us. While the primary salon is repaired, would you be interested in taking the lead on opening this new location?”

Her world tilted. Karmel’s heart swelled in her chest. Tears prickled the backs of her eyes. “Yes! I would love that!”

“Great. We’ll talk more in the new year.” Monica picked up her cookie spread, dipped in a gingersnap, and crunched it. A smile of rapture filled her face. “Mm. This takes me back.”

Karmel scooped up her own serving. Spicy sweetness tantalized her mouth. “Yum.”

“My nana used to make this every Christmas. I cried when I found her old recipe tucked into the back of a shoe box.”

“This cookie is also delicious?” a deep male voice asked behind Karmel.

They had an audience of attractive males.

“Find out for yourselves.” Karmel stepped out of the way.

The dragons descended on the snaps and dip, crunching and commenting with pleasure.

Monica tossed Karmel a grin. “Thanks again for having this party and inviting me. I still don’t know how you got it together. I’m sure you’ll pull off a new salon opening with a snap.”

Princess woofed in agreement.

She patted her pup.

Karmel wished her well and mingled with the crowds.

Yes, yes, yes!

She’d been brave and tried hard. The resilience Peridot saw had opened a new door. She’d reminded Monica of a happy Christmas memory from her past.

And, if the sight of the cookies disappearing at a rapid rate into the mouths of the attractive dragons were any sign, she’d given them their first happy Christmas memory.

The first of many.

And it was all because of Peridot.

Another twinge of uncertainty filled her belly.

They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. She’d been resentful of him abandoning her at the critical time. The same way she’d felt about her dad throughout her childhood and about her nonchalant, Christmas-whatever siblings as an adult.

Now, looking across the room of happy people in festive holiday sweaters, new suits, nice dresses, and silly holiday earrings, the memories folded into a new realization.

It all came down to her. She could’ve organized her friends before now. And she could do this again.

Herself.

It didn’t have to be perfect the first time. The decorations didn’t have to be Pinterest-worthy. They might run out of cookies before the end of the party. That was okay. Everyone — and even she — was having a great time.

Rose Pudge, the fluffy Corgi, sat in front of Karmel and panted with her tongue out.

“Hello, good pup.” Karmel straightened her red stripe bow. “You’re looking clean and festive this morning.”

“Misses Karmel!” Olivia skipped up to her and hugged Rose Pudge. Behind her came a reed-thin woman and a graying gentleman. “These are my parents. They want to talk to you.”

Uh oh.

“Nice to meet you.” Karmel smoothed her velvet gown, extremely aware that she had personally driven their mother-in-law to psychosis. “Er, I’m glad you could come.”

The wife pressed a delicate hand to her chest. “I’m glad you still hosted this exchange. My mother-in-law burned down your apartment and vandalized your place of business. I have no words.”

Her husband nodded sagely. “No words.”

“She always competed with her children and tried to take credit. Ray’s graduation was a circus. I won’t even mention our wedding. Then Olivia was born—thanks to her, don’t you know? When we rescued Rose Pudge, she fixated on our dog.”

“Utter fixation.”

“I understand insurance will cover her damages and my mother-in-law will be on her own for any civil suit. But as proud rescue owners, we wanted to give you this token of our support.”

The husband produced a large cheque. “A token of our sincere support.”

Karmel took it with shaking hands. “Thank you. This is so…”

Her brain blinked, and she realized, like at dinner the previous night, there were a few extra zeroes.

“… so, so, so generous.”

“On behalf of Rose Pudge and Olivia.” The wife took Karmel’s hand. Her fingers were long and smooth. “May all rescues find their forever homes this holiday season.”

Her throat tightened. “Yes. Thank you.”

The husband shook her hand as well.

Olivia finished feeding her pup a white chocolate-covered dog bone. She waved goodbye and skipped after her parents. Rose Pudge waddled after.

Karmel pinched the donation tight. That was generosity. The family had overcome real adversity to be together this holiday season. That was—

“—a mistake.” A dragon bowed low to Sard Carnelian. “Another quarter of Peridot’s intended cargo has just arrived at our distribution center. The final quarter will arrive at the end of the week. He is not far. We should call him back.”

“No.” Sard Carnelian crossed beefy arms over his massive chest. With his bald head and intimidating silver piercings, he looked more like a dangerous gangster than like a businessman. “I won’t waste the fuel.”

“But someone must make a second trip.”

“I’ll send him again as soon as he gets back.”

The dragon bowed lower. “Next year, please extend the December shipping schedule based on my research.”

“What research?”

“Human production is delayed during these winter holidays. Perhaps dragons could rest too?”

“I have already given the dragons two days off.”

“Some have requested you reinstate the weekend.”

“We have production targets! No human holiday will interfere with remaining the number one company outside Draconis!”

Karmel realized she was crunching the generous donation. She smoothed it and struggled to calm her fury. Channel Peridot. Be cool.

She couldn’t chew out the boss of her new love. He’d let her homeless self crash in Peridot’s dorm and rent this spaceship—and dragon help—for free.

But she couldn’t help muttering as she passed by, “Bah humbug!”

Sard wheeled to face her. “What did you say?”

Double uh oh.

She quickened her pace to the donations basket.

“You there. Peridot’s mate.” Sard seemed to wrack his brain for her name. “Karmel!”

She slowed to a stop and turned.

The surrounding conversation died. Cheery music jingled hollowly from her phone. Everyone watched the massive shifter stalk her.

She drew herself up and braced. “Yes?”

Red threads in his eyes gleamed. “I asked, What did you say?”

“I said …” She swallowed. She deserved happiness. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it’s not very nice of you to have sent Peridot away, especially if you could have delayed. Christmas is a family holiday. It’s a time of peace on earth and goodwill for all.”

“Yes, yes. I know of this ‘Christmas spirit.’”

She snorted.

His red eyes grew darker. “Why do you snort?”

“Because if you really knew the Christmas spirit, you’d be more generous with your men.”

“I am stunningly generous.”

“Oh, no. Huh uh. If you were stunningly generous, you’d give your employees two extra days off instead of switching out the weekend. You’d throw your own holiday party without rationing the snacks. And you’d bring Peridot back to spend his first Christmas with his new girlfriend.” She thumped her chest. “That’s the Christmas spirit.”

Slow clapping filled the room with applause.

Oops. She hadn’t meant to call out Peridot’s boss publicly. Karmel wanted to hide, but she held her ground.

The powerful dragon shifter showed his sharp fangs. “Refusing work is no way to run a business.”

“That’s why I said, ‘bah humbug.’”

His eyes widened. He jabbed his thick index finger in the air. “That. There. What you said. Sheep’s humming bugs.”

“What?”

“Baaaah humming bugs. For some reason, it means I lack three Christmas spirits.”

“Three? Oh. Yeah, you do. It’s in A Christmas Carol,” she said. “Peridot can explain. You should summon him back.”

“I know this story,” the male replied snidely. “A businessman suffers insomnia. Hallucinations lead to dementia that ruins his business.”

Again, the dragon alien perspective momentarily stunned Karmel.

She recovered quickly. “That ‘dementia’ is called ‘charity.’ And it made Scrooge’s life more fulfilled. Coming together as a community is the cornerstone of Christmas.”

His eyes narrowed. “If true, this ‘Christmas spirit’ is actually ‘Christmas insanity.’”

“That’s why it’s seasonal. The effects are short-lived.”

“Hmm.” He regarded the silent dragons and humans. “You all wish for extra days off? Truly?”

Hesitant nods multiplied into enthusiastic assent.

“And don’t send anyone on long business trips,” she said. “Bring Peridot home.”

He conveyed his orders into his mini phone. The dragons celebrated, and the party resumed with chattering of how they would spend their new days off—and where they would acquire more cookies.

Sard’s voice dropped to Karmel’s ear. “Peridot has already reached intergalactic accelerations. Reversing direction will take time. He will not be home for Christmas.”

Disappointment lanced her.

But having him for Boxing Day was better than not having him.

How would he feel when he got back?

Because of how they’d parted, he probably felt sad. Worried. Unappreciated.

Alone.

What if he closed up again? What if her judgment had hurt him as deeply as his ex’s rejection?

The moment he got back, she would show him just how appreciated he really was. Karmel vowed with her full heart.

If he would let her.

Peridot flew from the cargo ship to the Carnelian spaceship with dread.

He’d heard from the other dragons that Karmel’s party had gone well and she’d seemed happy. She’d even made a brief speech and convinced Sard to close the offices.

Unheard of.

But she was the engineer of his sudden return to Earth. Christmas was a time of miracles. Karmel had created both.

The volume and variety of sweet cookie had pleased everyone.

“You have adjusted to Earth and chosen a fierce mate,” Sard had told him during their private communication. “Your family should be proud.”

A lump had silenced Peridot. He’d nodded instead.

He hadn’t been able to confess that Karmel was reconsidering being his mate.

Her angry resignation had matched his ex-fiancée’s during the final ultimatum. Star Sapphire had asked him to break his commitments. So had Karmel. He had refused.

And he had missed Karmel’s cookie exchange.

But, so help him, he would not miss Christmas.

Peridot burned hot into orbit and ejected himself as soon as he reached atmosphere. The ship ran properly on autopilot. He raced the planet rotation to fly into Karmel’s arms on Christmas Day.

And he braced himself for her reception.

There, the tip of North America. Oregon. Portland.

Sard’s ship.

The dorm hall. His door.

A light was still on. He deactivated the lock and entered. The room was the size of Karmel’s former bedroom. She was lying in her red velvet dress on his slide-out bunk bed, eyes closed and mouth open. In a corner, she’d positioned the small Douglas fir in a five-gallon bucket. Unopened packages rested against the container.

His chest ached.

This cramped, undecorated room had none of her brightness. And she had been so thrilled about this holiday, but she had delayed her rituals for him.

This would not happen again. Regardless of the consequences, he would make her wish to spend Christmas together come true.

If he remained by her side.

He dropped to the bunk beside her and stroked her cheek. “Karmel.”

“Um?” She licked her lips and stretched. Her yawn morphed into a sleepy smile. “Peridot.”

His heart squeezed again. “Yes.”

“What time is it?” She squinted at his second Rolex. “Oh. Wow. You made it. Sard said you wouldn’t.”

His clock said they had fifteen minutes left of the holiday. “I won’t miss it again.”

“You better not.” She rested her feet on the floor. “You missed a great party.”

“I heard.” The glowing reviews had pinched. “My coworkers want to repeat this tradition.”

“And you better be there.” She poked him in the chest.

He caught her hand. Holding her delicate fingers in his, he vowed. “I will.”

Her sleepy enthusiasm turned sober. “That’s not what I wanted to say.”

His stomach dropped. She didn’t want him to be there next year. Because he had failed to protect her. Failed to satisfy his boss. Failed to satisfy her.

She didn’t want him.

“But that can wait. We don’t have time for this.” She put a small package in his lap. “You still have a few minutes! Open it.”

“I didn’t get you a present.”

She made a flubbing sound with her lips. “Except for this dress, the other dress, these shoes, the other shoes, a COACH bag, a once-in-a-lifetime dinner, decorations for the cookie exchange, and saving my life from an apartment fire. And also the cookie exchange. We’re square.”

He extended a claw and slit through the festive blue snowflake wrapping paper.

She laughed with surprise. “I forgot you can do that! How handy. You never need scissors.”

“Scissors are useful for precision work.” He slipped off the paper. A cardboard box for women’s shoes? He checked the size. “Too small.”

“Keep going,” she encouraged him. And then she elbowed him. “Was that a joke?”

It was a way of dealing with his nervousness. “You decide.”

“Come on, come on!”

He opened the shoe box. Inside were three smaller packages nestled in sparkling white tissue paper.

The first contained a small sample pack of Stumptown Coffee. “Because you said you liked pumpkin spice, so I thought you might like other kinds too.”

The second contained a box of Moonstruck chocolate truffles. “Because these are all my favorites, and if you don’t love them just as much as I do, I’m happy to help you eat any extras.”

And the last, smallest box contained a pair of gold cufflinks in the shape of dragons.

He lifted them out. They gleamed in the light with purity and strength.

“I was going to get you a nice pen for all of the successful contracts you’re going to sign, but then I saw these. You always look so nice and put together, I thought these could actually fit your style.”

An unfamiliar burning sensation flooded his nostrils. His eyes prickled and his throat unexpectedly closed. He swallowed. Hard.

She was always, always considering what he might like. No one devoted such thought to him. His likes, his preferences, his desires were boring before coming to Earth and meeting Karmel. Now, he looked forward to learning about himself through her eyes.

Through her eyes and through his own.

He cleared his throat. “Will you help me?”

“Of course!” Her happy smile and eager fingers made his heart ache more. “There. I’m so glad you like them! I was so torn.”

He lifted his sleeves and admired himself. “A pen would have been fine.”

“I thought so. Then, I thought, there’s always next year!”

He lowered his sleeves and focused on her. This question determined everything. “So, there will be a next year?”

She blinked. “Yes. Unless you don’t want to.”

“I want to. But my absence today hurt you.”

“It did.” She grabbed both his hands. “And, it reminded me of what I really wanted to say to you. Which is, I know you’re doing your best. You’re trying hard to be on Earth and succeed at your new job and not repeat your past mistakes.”

Pain stabbed him. She was right. He was trying so hard, and yet here he was, repeating his past errors over and over again in a terrible, nightmarish loop.

Peridot thought he was changing, but when Karmel spoke the truth, he knew he wasn’t. He was ashamed.

“And I think you’re doing great,” she finished.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You made a huge effort to be here. Fifteen minutes of Christmas is better than nothing. We’ll both keep trying, all right?”

His heart swelled in his chest.

He tugged her into his arms. Crushing her soft curves against him felt so right. She was the ultimate gift. He never knew he needed anyone like her.

The future used to look dark and sad, an endless string of schedules and requirements. Now, his future entwined with hers. Her shining star filling his whole sky, and he could only see dazzling happiness ahead.

His communicator buzzed.

He pulled apart with a sigh. Reality so quickly intruded.

She squinted at his Rolex. “Who’s calling you at this hour?”

“Consequences.” He made sure Karmel was covered and then answered. His video screen showed the displeased face of his boss. “Sir.”

“Peridot. You disabled the cargo ship safety system and caused greater wear on the engines by returning so fast.”

He kept his voice even. “I apologize.”

“Recklessly violating equipment guidelines is unlike you.”

“I will not repeat this.”

“Your flippancy is unacceptable.”

Peridot considered his options. Pleasing Karmel came at a cost of displeasing Sard. His loyalties were torn because both had saved his life. Sard in the most literal way and Karmel in the most enduring.

“I’m disappointed,” Sard said.

And now he’d disappointed the one male who’d taken a chance on him and—

“Okay, this is my fault.” Karmel leaned against Peridot’s shoulder so she could see Sard as well. “I told him he had to spend Christmas with me or it was a break-up-able offense.”

Sard narrowed on Karmel. “Damaging a cargo ship could cost billions.”

“Well, you should have given him Christmas off.”

Sard blinked.

“This year, I only got fifteen minutes. But next year, I need a week! And every year after that. Schedule your multi-million shipments—”

“Billion.”

“Whatever. Schedule them before December or after the New Year. Or else none of you are invited to my cookie exchanges ever again.”

Sard studied her for a long moment.

The way his coworkers had reminisced about the cookie exchange, there would be a morale problem if Sard caused the dragons to be disinvited. It might incite a mutiny.

“I will expect an invitation,” he ground out.

“You’ll get it. Next year will be fabulous. We’ll have twice as many cookies, and you won’t believe how full of holiday spirit everyone will become.”

His hard gaze flicked to Peridot. “You were rendered temporarily insane by three Christmas spirits. Do not let it happen outside Christmas.” He cut off the transmission.

Peridot put away the communicator. Tension drained out of his body and his shoulders slumped. Karmel forgave him and so did Sard. He fulfilled his obligations. And next year, he wouldn’t have to choose.

He could prioritize Karmel the way she wanted. The way they both wanted.

“We still have two minutes.” She pushed him back on the bunk with a giggle. “I know what to do.”

Her fingers worked his buttons and she pulled up his white undershirt, reveling in his taut abs. She nipped his lips, her softness brushing his firm chest, and ready heat flowed into his loins.

“This will take longer than two minutes,” he groaned. If he shifted into dragon and smashed the sound barrier, he could push it. “Longer than ten.”

“We have hours. I’m just eager to get started.” She unzipped his trousers. His cock strained against the fabric. She licked her lips. “Here’s a present I can’t wait to unwrap.”

He grabbed her waist and lifted her on top of him, grinding his cock against her satin panties. “Unwrap me.”

She fumbled with his boxers.

He unzipped her dress, yanked it over her shoulders, scooped her generous breasts free of her demure bra, and feasted.

She moaned. “Peridot.”

His cock throbbed with heat. Everything about her was an aphrodisiac. Her cinnamon-and-sugar-scented skin, her soft moans, her gentle tugs on his waistband, her dampening panties.

She dropped her head to his and thrust her tongue in his ear. It gave him shivers and his cock pulsed. “I want you.”

He peeled her dress off, divested her bra and panties, and shimmied out of his shoes, socks, pants, and boxers. She tugged off his suit jacket, then suspended over him, nude, while she worked to remove his new cufflinks.

He fought the urge to shift and shred his clothes. Instead, he extended a claw. “I’ll get them off.”

“Don’t you dare.” She fiddled with the clasp. “It’s tighter than I realized. Just a sec.”

Her breast, like a generous scoop of his favorite whipped cream, suspended over his chest. He ducked his head and filled himself, savoring her sweet flavor.

She dropped onto an elbow and moaned. “Stop. I can’t concentrate.”

Her butt angled up.

He caressed her soft derriere and squeezed.

“Peridot.” She rocked her hips, pushing into his caress. Her rich arousal filled his nostrils. “Just wait…”

The link uncoupled. It clinked and his sleeve loosened. She pulled his shirt off around his back and concentrated on the other wrist.

He switched breasts.

Her gasps hitched higher. “You!” She lost her balance and sat on his thighs. Her damp slit rested against the base of his cock.

He slid against her, coating his ramrod hard cock with her liquid honey.

She moaned and rocked with him.

He loved driving her wild. Watching her lose control from his caresses made him come alive. He wasn’t a dull, undesirable, cast-off dragon. He was necessary. She needed him.

And he loved her too.

“There.” A clink and she tugged the shirt off, then made him lose the undershirt. “Now, perfect.”

He gripped her flared hips and nudged his thick head against her silken slick entrance.

Her lids half-descended. Gorgeous pleasure transformed her face. She shuddered and gave herself to him, entrusting herself, balancing on his shoulders.

He thrust up, burying his cock to the hilt.

She gasped. “Yes!”

“Now,” he growled, unsteady. “Perfect.”

A smile flitted across her lips. She clasped his cheeks and claimed his mouth for a long, soul-affirming kiss.

He plunged his cock in and out of her slick channel.

Karmel cried out in his rhythm, escalating as their bodies slapped faster and harder. She rose on her palms, arching her back, and twined his legs.

He rocked her to the brink, bobbing their sexes together, knitting their souls into one. She believed in him, she admired him, she completed him.

“Peridot!” She collapsed on top of him, shuddering. Her channel milked his cock, sending him over the edge.

He poured his seed into her.

His vision went white, losing and then finding himself moments later, still buried all the way. They both lay gasping like they’d flown around the world, twice.

She curled against his shoulder. “Thanks for the late Christmas present.”

“Of course.” He stroked her sinuous back. His. “I do have something for you.”

“You do?”

“It’s small.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s the thought that counts.”

For her, that was the truth. “What did you think of the night sky in the common room?”

“What night sky?”

“You didn’t push the button I showed you?”

She shook her head. “Now I want to see.”

He checked the time, rose with a groan, and untangled them. Sex was stickier than he’d imagined. He didn’t mind being smeared in Karmel’s juices but she liked to be soft and clean. He walked them through the cleanser unit, himself into a fresh suit with his new cufflinks, and her into new pajamas.

She stroked the comfy T-shirt fabric printed with daisies. “This is a nice present.”

He twined their hands. “That’s a replacement. Your present is here.” He showed her a palm-sized red paper bag folded over and taped.

She reached for the tape.

“Open it here.” He led her across the ship to the common room.

Inside, it was quiet. The other dragons were out experiencing more traditional human Christmas celebrations, finishing business, or resting. He settled her on the rear counter and pressed the wall button.

While the lights lowered to darkness, he scooted behind her and drew her backside to his chest. “Now you can open it.”

She unpeeled the tape and folded the paper. Inside, five golden nuts lay within toasted, cracked shells. “It smells amazing. What is it?”

“Chestnuts.”

She turned to him with excitement. “Are you serious? Chestnuts roasted over an open fire?”

“Or roasted in a matter analyzer.”

“I always wanted to try one!” She pulled off a shell and bit into the soft meat. “Mmm. It’s amazing. Sweet and creamy, with a nutty flavor but more of a marzipan texture. Oh, wow.” She offered him one. “Try it.”

He accepted, even though he’d gotten it for her. It was her generous nature. Like the holiday spirit, she wanted to share goodness with everyone. He was so lucky that she’d shared herself with him.

“So, what’s this a view of?” She gazed at the overcast sight.

“Outside. On a clear night, you can see Draconis.”

“Wow.”

“Watch.” He gave a voice order for the screens to magnify. The clouds came into focus, and then it magnified as if the ceiling were glass.

Tiny white dots fluttered on the windows, danced for a moment, and then swept away on their journey to Earth.

“That’s right! It’s a white Christmas.” She buried her face in his shoulders. Dampness misted his neck. “You are so thoughtful. This is the best Christmas ever.”

He held her close, feeling the same.

She eventually pulled back, wiped the tears from her eyes, and pressed soft kisses to his jaw. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“Next year will be better,” he promised.

She snorted. “Our first Christmas, my apartment burned down. Next Christmas will definitely be better.” She nuzzled him and gazed again up at the drifting snow. “We’ll have amazing stories to tell our children.”

He squeezed her.

For now, life fully satisfied him. Every moment with her taught him new things about himself. She revealed a sparkling world glimmering beneath the one he thought he knew.

This silent, snowy night was filled with warmth and love. Human and dragon found peace on and above Earth and spread goodwill to all man- and shifter-kind. He wished every dragon a small sliver of the spirit filling his heart.

Christmas was the happiest holiday in the universe.