Knotted By the Dragon Prince (Knotted By Cupid #5)

Chapter 1 Amara

AMARA

The library that I'd been working in for the last few years smelled of old paper and lemon polish. It was probably one of my favorite scents in the whole word, and slowly I sucked in the air, holding it for just a moment.

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I adjusted the stack of returns on my cart and began wheeling it down the aisle. The wheels squeaked softly against the hardwood floor. It was the kind of sound that would drive most people crazy, but to me?

It offered me three things: safety, predictability and comfort. Who could ask for anything more.

"Morning, Amara," Mrs. Luna called from the circulation desk.

I waved back, managing a small smile. Mrs. Luna who stood at just a few inches taller than me, was one of the few people I actually liked talking to.

We often had tea together while she talked about her family that seemed lovely, especially her grandchildren.

And while we rambled away, she never asked why I was single or if "settling down" had crossed my mind.

She never placed any sort of pressure on me about finding the "right alpha," like my cousin Lila had.

Fuck Lila, I thought and instantly guilt hit me.

Wait, I thought again. You can still be mad at Lila, you didn't betray her like she did you…

Sliding a copy of Pride and Prejudice back onto the shelf, I let my fingers linger on the spine. Elizabeth Bennet had it figured out. She'd demanded respect. She'd refused to settle.

And she'd gotten her Mr. Darcy.

Meanwhile, all I'd gotten was a cousin who'd stolen my almost-Alpha and a mother who reminded me every Sunday that my hips were "a bit much" for most men.

"You good over there?" Mrs. Luna's voice pulled me back.

"Yeah," I called. "Just reorganizing."

Liar.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Seven forty-five. The Ember & Crumb opened at eight, which meant if I finished this cart in the next ten minutes, I could make it there right when Kael unlocked the door.

My heart did a stupid little flutter at the thought.

Stop it, I told myself. He's just nice to everyone.

But my traitorous Omega brain didn't care. It remembered the way his scent wrapped around me every morning the second I entered into the bakery. Warm sugar and smoky vanilla. Like someone had set a cinnamon roll on fire in the best possible way and God did I want to take a bite.

I shoved the last book onto the shelf and rolled the cart back to the front desk.

"Heading out?" Mrs. Luna asked, not looking up from her computer.

"Just for a coffee run. I'll be back in twenty."

She waved me off. "Take your time. It's Monday. No one's coming in here before noon anyway."

I grabbed my bag, a soft leather cross body I'd found at a thrift shop, and headed out into the cool morning air. It was a little worn, and not as new as something my cousin would buy but it had a certain level of charm to it.

God, I loved this time of year.

The last remnants of winter were giving way to early spring.

Tiny crocuses pushed through the patches of melting snow, little bursts of purple and white against the gray pavement.

My boots splashed through shallow puddles as I made my way down the block.

I tugged my coat tighter around myself, the fabric worn but warm.

The Ember & Crumb sat on the corner, its windows glowing with warm light. A chalkboard sign outside advertised the special of the day: honey-ember tarts.

They were one of my absolute favorite pastries that I’d ever come across.

Does he know that? I wondered. Or is it just a coincidence?

The bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside, and the scent hit me like a wave.

Warm. Sweet. Him.

Kael was behind the counter, his back to me as he arranged pastries in the display case. Flour dusted his dark hair and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off forearms that had no business being that distracting.

He's a baker, Amara. He kneads dough. Of course his forearms look like that.

"Morning," I said, my voice coming out quieter than I intended.

He turned, and his whole face lit up.

"Amara," he said, and the way he said my name made my stomach flip. "I was hoping you'd come by."

"You say that every morning," I pointed out, setting my bag on the counter.

"Because it's true every morning."

I felt my cheeks heat and looked down at the display case to hide it. "The honey-ember tarts are back."

"I made extra today," he said. "Figured you might want one."

Suddenly I felt all warm inside, like I was one of the pastries he'd kneaded and formed and baked.

For me, I thought. Was he thinking about me?

Then reality slammed into my brain because I wasn't special like that. Stop reading into it, I told myself.

"I'll take one," I said. "And a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" He raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You sure you don't want to live a little?"

"I live plenty," I shot back, surprising myself.

His smile widened. "Good."

He moved to the coffee station and I watched him work. Everything he did was careful. Deliberate. Like he was putting thought into every single motion.

It made me feel...seen.

Which was ridiculous because he probably treated all his customers like this.

"Here you go," he said, sliding the tart and coffee across the counter. His fingers brushed mine as I reached for them and I swore I felt a spark.

Omega hormones. That's all, I chided myself mentally.

"Thanks," I managed.

"Amara?"

I paused, the tart halfway to my mouth. "Yeah?"

He looked like he wanted to say something. His jaw tightened, then relaxed. Finally, he just shook his head. "Have a good day."

"You too."

I practically fled out the door as if something spooky was chasing me.

You're so stupid, I thought but my cheeks had started to hurt because I was smiling so hard.

I literally couldn't stop smiling at the fact that Kael had been so thoughtful.

By lunchtime, my good mood had evaporated and with good reason.

As I was taking care and restocking the young adult section an unmistakably high pitched and performative laugh hit my ears.

I ducked behind a shelf, praying she wouldn't see me.

"Amara!"

Fuck.

I straightened, pasting on a smile as I greeted my cousin. "Lila. Hi."

She swept down the aisle like she owned the place, her Alpha husband trailing behind her.

Colin.

The same Colin who'd taken me to homecoming junior year. The same Colin who'd taken my virginity on Christmas Eve and then told me I was "sweet, but not really his type" two weeks later.

Right before he started dating Lila.

She was dressed head to toe in some Chanel outfit. The jacket was in the classic tweed look in a pink salmon color with large gold buttons. The cream quilted lambskin bag looked to be brand new with the interlocking CC logo dangled from her arm. Lila was definitely dressed to go some where fancy.

How the hell does she afford that? I thought. She works at her dad's dental office answering phones.

Colin must’ve been bankrolling her wardrobe but he was just a local tennis coach. Or maybe my mother was still funding Lila's "investment pieces.” They'd always been thick as thieves.

"I haven't seen you in forever," Lila said, her eyes raking over me. Taking in my worn cardigan, my simple skirt, my complete lack of designer anything.

"I've been around," I said.

"Still working here?" She glanced around the library like it was beneath her. "That's...sweet."

You answer phones for a living, heffa, the words nearly dripped from my lips but I stopped them.

"I like it," I said instead.

Lila tilted her head, her smile sharpening. "Well, actually, Aunt Amelia sent me. She wanted me to tell you about the Solas Valentine Gala next month. I was in the neighborhood anyway, so..."

Of course my mother had. That was just how Amelia did things and I had come to understand that when I was just a small child.

My mother couldn't just call me herself.

No, she had to send Lila, dressed like she'd stepped out of a fashion editorial, to deliver the message in person.

It screamed maximum effort and maximum humiliation.

"The Solas Valentine Gala," I repeated flatly.

"Yes!" Lila's eyes lit up like this was the most exciting thing in the world. "Colin and I are going. It's going to be amazing. So many important people. Aunt Amelia really thinks you should come."

Translation: Your mother thinks you need to stop hiding and find an Alpha before you're completely hopeless.

"I don't know," I started.

"Oh, come on," Lila pressed, her voice dripping with false encouragement. "You can't hide in this library forever, Amara."

Colin shifted uncomfortably beside her but didn't say anything.

Coward.

"I'll think about it," I said, already knowing I wouldn't.

Lila's smile turned pitying. "You really should. I mean, you're not getting any younger. And there will be so many eligible Alphas there. It's the perfect opportunity."

The implication was clear as day. My cousin was saying in not so many words that I was running out of time to find a man, and I was running out of options.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, my voice flat.

She gave me one last once-over, her gaze lingering on my thrift store bag and drugstore cardigan, before linking her arm through Colin's.

"Well, I should get going. Lunch reservations, you know." She flashed her Chanel bag like a badge of honor. "But think about the gala, okay? Aunt Amelia really wants you there."

I bet she does, I simply nodded.

They swept out of the library, Lila's heels clicking against the floor, and I stood there for a long moment, my hands shaking.

Slowly, I sucked air into my lungs making myself breath fighting down the urge to scream.

Lila had a way of making me feel so small and unworthy that it wasn't funny.

My mother had sent her. Sent Lila, of all people, to convince me to go to some royal gala where I'd be paraded around like a charity case.

Like I needed saving.

By the time my shift ended, I was exhausted.

Emotionally and physically exhausted to the point that I needed a pick me up.

I grabbed my bag and headed back to The Ember & Crumb. I told myself it was because I needed an evening coffee. Not because I wanted to see Kael again.

The shop was quieter now, just a few people scattered at the small tables. Kael was wiping down the counter, his movements slow and methodical. He looked up when I walked in and his expression shifted immediately.

"Rough day?" he asked sounding concerned.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He didn't say anything else. Just disappeared into the back and returned a moment later with a cinnamon nest bun on a small plate.

"On the house," he said.

"Kael, you can't keep giving me free pastries."

"I can do whatever I want," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "It's my bakery."

I took the plate, my throat tight.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He smiled. "Anytime."

And for the first time all day, my shoulders dropped away from my ears.

Later that night, I curled up in my apartment where the radiator clanked and the neighbor's TV murmured through the wall.

I tried to focus on my book, but the pages blurred.

Instead, I found myself tracing the rim of my empty mug, still faintly smelling of cinnamon and cloves.

I closed my eyes and saw Kael's hands, flour under his nails, a small burn mark on his thumb as he was sliding that pastry across the counter.

The memory of smoky vanilla lingered in my hair, wrapping around me like the fuzzy blanket I'd pulled to my chin.

Stop it, I told myself. You're going to get hurt.

But a small, hopeful part of me whispered back.

What if you don't? What if this time is different?

I pulled the blanket tighter and tried to ignore the way my heart ached. Tried to ignore the way I could still smell warm sugar and smoky vanilla on my clothes.

Tried to ignore the fact that I was already halfway in love with a man who probably didn't even know my last name.