CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Lukendevener
Skye stares at me, her forget-me-not eyes blown wide, her hands covering her rosebud mouth. Is she smiling? By the goddess, I hope she’s smiling.
The silence of the waiting crowd fills the air with tension, the feel of so many eyes on me an itch between my shoulder blades that makes my wings stir.
I thought dancing with Skye in front of the entire town and the pixies—the worst gossips in Faerie—would be the most difficult part of my grand gesture.
I was wrong.
Why is she so quiet? Is my grand gesture not grand enough?
I planned it so very carefully, every decision tailored to her and what she likes best. The ring came easily, pink and hearts and romance so closely intertwined all I had to do was look at any shop downtown to recognize how much Skye would love it.
The dress, on the other hand, took forever.
Yet I refused to settle for anything less than perfection.
I thought my grand gesture superior to the ones in the romance books I studied, but Skye’s read so many more that I might not have researched enough.
Or is the problem, once again, me? The broken dragon. The one who’s not quite right, my shifting magic a fractured mirror instead of a whole.
The weredragon who can never be a man for her.
Only a few seconds have passed, but they feel far longer than all my centuries of life. Impatience finally gets the best of me.
“Skye,” I growl. “Answer me.”
Murmurs flow through the crowd like storm winds shaking the leaves of trees.
Damn. That was too direct, too unromantic. I’m a beast to the end. She’ll never want me now.
Skye’s hands drop from her face to show her radiant smile, warmer than any sun. The pretty little witch says the quietest, shortest word, but it’s the best word ever spoken in all of creation.
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?” I frown. “I was beastly just now.”
“You were you, grumpy and bossy and so perfectly you.” She brushes her fingers between my brows, soothing away my frown. “I wouldn’t have you any other way. I love you, Luke.”
Ring be damned. Nothing matters but this woman. I drop the box and surge to my feet, scooping her into my arms. All of me longs to hold her, my tail wrapping around her legs, my wings enfolding us.
Skye smiles at me, love shining in her beautiful eyes.
I now realize the emotion has been there for quite some time—my little witch always shows everything she’s feeling—only I could never read what it meant until now.
Love is a language no translation crystal can conquer, one I needed to learn painstakingly, each individual letter carved into my stony heart by a tiny hand tipped with candy-pink nails.
I kiss her for all the world to see, the crowd cheering as I feast on her taste, sweet and spicy and Skye. She melts in my arms, her soft curves molding to my body, making my cocks stir to life, the main one tingling with the desire to knot, to claim.
To make her mine in a way no human ritual can match.
“I love you, Luke. I love your intelligence and determination. Your thirst for knowledge and the willingness to keep reading, to keep learning. I love your little secret smile.” Her fingers brush the corner of my mouth.
“And I really, really love your massive library.” She grins, and my lips twitch, exactly where she touched.
“But most of all, I love the way you believe in me.”
“How could I not? Your power spoke to me from the moment I first saw you, but it’s only a fraction of who you are.
I love your quick mind. I love your love of books and reading, which rivals my own.
” I cup Skye’s cheek, my thumb dragging over her alluring red lips.
My tone softens. “I lived for so many centuries, thinking happiness could never be mine. Then you burst in, all pink and sweet and spice. You turned my entire world upside down.”
She gives a soft huff of amusement, her lips twisting into a sheepish smile.
“It was exactly what I needed,” I growl, my hand slipping to the back of her neck and tightening.
“You’re exactly what I needed. I love the joy and sweetness you’ve brought into my life, my little candy witch.
I feel truly alive for the first time in centuries, and it’s all because of you. I love you, Skye.”
“Oh, Luke.” Her lower lip trembles.
I can’t resist. I kiss her again. I kiss her as the music starts. I kiss her as other couples fill the floor around us. I kiss her until someone taps my shoulder.
“What?” I bark, setting Skye on the floor before spinning to snarl at a grinning Shadow.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, big guy.” The werepanther holds out the ring box. “Thought you might want this before it gets trampled.”
I grunt, then force out the words, “Thank you.”
“Now was that so hard?” He slaps my shoulder.
I snatch the box from him and turn back to my beloved. Lifting her left hand, I slide the pink-sapphire ring onto her finger.
Diamond tumbles over, coming to a halt right beside us, poised on tiptoe, her arms flung wide.
The cap of moss perched on top of her head ripples at the abrupt movement, waving tiny white flowers.
Gnomes, always so damned dramatic. She taps a finger to the ring, and a shiver of magic thrums through the air as the metal band resizes to the perfect fit.
“Felicitations on your engagement! Don’t forget to come back to Bling It On for your wedding bands!
” Then she cartwheels into the crowd to join the rest of the gnomes, who’re doing a very acrobatic style of dancing.
Pixies swoop overhead, yelling to each other in bursts of whistling speech. The little imps will spread the news of our engagement to all the realms of Faerie by morning, no doubt.
Several people hover around us, waiting to shower us with good wishes.
Skye holds up her hand to admire her ring, and the women descend upon her in a mob of excited squeals.
“You did it,” Rune says with a slow nod of approval.
“You certainly did.” Severin smirks. A shadow slides from his forearm to wrap around Hannah’s waist, even as my own tail coils around Skye’s calves.
Thorvinn grunts and claps me on the shoulder, his orc strength so great he’d knock over a lesser fae. I am, of course, a dragon and don’t move an inch.
I let that feeling of superiority fade. What good has it done me? These men are friends, the truest I’ve known, along with Jacenrevener. “Thank you all for your help.”
As if called into being by my thoughts, the ice dragon appears at the edge of the dance floor in his fae form, still wearing his three-centuries-out-of-date frockcoat and breeches. He strides over. “Congratulations.”
“You came back,” I say, shaking his hand.
“Earth is… interesting.” His eyes flick past me, taking in the knot of human witches surrounding Skye.
“If you’re going to stay, we have got to get you some new clothes,” Shadow says, gesturing to his own modern human suit. He grins and wraps an arm around my friend. “Jace—can I call you Jace?—stick with me. Unless I’m wrong, and I never am, Luke’s going to be seriously busy for the next while.”
Jacenrevener shoots me a questioning glance, eyebrow cocked.
I nod. For all his mischief, the werepanther has adapted to living on Earth surprisingly well. If Jacenrevener plans to stay, he could do far worse than to have Shadow’s assistance.
Two older women peel away from Skye to flank me, one tall and regal with brown skin and hair, the other a short, plump blonde with a light complexion, who bears a family resemblance to my beloved. Her aunts.
“Do you love her?” the tall one asks, dark eyes assessing.
“Of course he does!” the short one says, all sweetness like her niece. Then her smile wavers, and she peers up at me. “Right?”
“I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone,” I say.
“I knew it! I’m Betty.” The blonde throws her arms around me in an exuberant hug.
I’m even more surprised when the brunette squeezes me even harder, murmuring, “I’m Irene. Welcome to the family.”
It’s easy to see Skye gets her loving nature from them, and the thought of her relatives welcoming me so readily cracks open the last of the walls around my heart.
“Now go get your girl,” Irene says. “Or you two will be trapped here all night.”
“And you’ve got better things to do.” Betty giggles, turning a bright pink.
My tail slides up Skye’s legs, passing her knees and brushing against one inner thigh.
Even with all of the music and chatter, I hear her gasp laced with desire.
My arm snakes between two of the other witches, and before they can protest, I use my flying magic to half-pull, half-levitate Skye from their midst.
She comes giggling and happy into my arms, and the noise goes straight to my cocks.
I almost sprint from the room, moving with far less decorum than a dragon should display in my haste.
I don’t care. I don’t care about superiority or respect or any of a million other words typically used to describe dragons.
I only care about this woman and how quickly I can knot her and make her mine.