by Kyle, Celia
But it appeared she had other things in mind because she tipped her head back so she could meet his gaze. As they looked into each other’s eyes, her lips parted, ever so slightly, and he took it as an invitation. Leaning in to accept, his eyes had almost closed with something large and giggly landed in his lap.
“Oof!”
“Hi, Thrett!” Trystin all but shouted, grinning broadly.
“Hey there, buddy. What’s shakin’?”
Trystin’s eyes grew wide and excited and he took a deep breath. “Ginny says some dragons can swim really good and that it’s because of their wings and they can get them really strong and fast with a lot of training and I can feel my wings getting stronger really fast and I think I can be in the Olympics one day!”
It took a minute for Thrett’s brain to process this announcement, and by the time he managed, Rylan was on her feet next to Ginette. Was she leaving? Leaving him alone with her son?
“I don’t doubt it for a second, if that’s what you really want, sweetie,” she said, ruffling his hair. “But you and Thrett should discuss it while Ginny and I go get some ice cream. Sound good?”
Trystin bounced in Thrett’s lap with great enthusiasm. “Chocolate, please!”
“But—” Thrett started to object, but Rylan winked at him and turned away, leaving him alone with his son. It sounded so weird…but also so right.
As the ladies went off to the snack stand, Thrett settled in and listened to the boy rattle off his surprisingly detailed plan to train for the Olympic games with his stunted wings. Thrett had to admit, it was inspiring to see the little guy go.
“And I’ll make sure you and Mommy have good seats,” he added very seriously. “So you can watch me win a gold medal.”
“Thanks. That’s nice of you,” Thrett said, making the boy beam. Then his expression turned thoughtful.
“I’m glad you’re our friend, Thrett,” he said, his soft brown eyes searching Thrett’s face.
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because Mommy’s happier now.”
Thrett’s heart flipped over in his chest, but he managed an amused chuckle. “I dunno, kiddo, she hasn’t seemed all that happy to see me.”
The boy shook his head dramatically. “Uh uh, she’s happy on the inside. She’s just really, really good at hiding it.”
Boy, he wished he could trust a seven-year-old boy’s intuition, but despite their near-kiss a few minutes earlier, Thrett knew he had a long way to go to earn Rylan’s trust, much less have her be happy he showed back up in their lives.
“What makes you say—”
He was interrupted by Trystin scrambling off his lap and running to intercept Rylan and Ginette, who were waggling ice cream sandwiches around and grinning.
If this was what a family outing felt like, he could get used to it.
Chapter Eight
“Ice cream sandwich is my favorite kind of sandwich!” Trystin bounced in excitement.
“My favorite is a knuckle sandwich,” Thrett drawled, pulling a laugh from Ginette and Rylan.
“What’s that?” The little boy stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
“Uh, nothing to worry about, sweetie,” Rylan stepped in, still grinning. “How’s your ice cream?”
“So good! But look, it’s all melty on my hand,” he giggled, wrinkling his nose as he held up his sticky hand for his mother to see.
“Mmm, yeah. I see some vigorous hand washing in our near future.”
“That’s okay, bud,” Thrett said. “There’s no wrong way to eat an ice cream sandwich.”
“Yeah! I can be sticky if I want to!” Trystin laughed.
“That’s the spirit!” Thrett agreed, even giving the kid a sticky fist bump.
Rylan’s heart swelled at the way his little face lit up. He looked so happy just to be there, looking back and forth between his mother and father, beaming at them with pure joy. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know Thrett was his dad. Trystin adored him. It was actually a big surprise how well they seemed to get along. She had never considered Thrett to be the paternal type, but he had an easy back-and-forth rapport with Trystin, both of them chatting casually about their favorite flavors of ice cream.
“Cookie dough is really good, too,” Trystin spoke with as much gravity as a sommelier describing the mouthfeel of a merlot.
“Oh yeah. For sure. How do you feel about…mint chocolate chip?” Thrett asked, licking a dribble of white goo from the side of his hand and setting her heart to pounding at the memory of what else he’d licked recently.
“I like it, but it’s not my favorite because it’s green and I don’t like green food.”
Thrett gave Rylan a bemused look.
“You been feeding this kid green food?” he gasped in mock horror.
“Hey, you like peas!” Rylan giggled, tousling her son’s soft hair.
He gleefully ducked away and rushed over to where Thrett sat on the bench. The handsome dragon put an arm around him just as effortlessly as though he’d been doing it for years. They seemed so connected, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Trystin seemed to really adore Thrett, and the feeling appeared to be mutual. Because why wouldn’t he? Trystin was a fantastic kid—considerate, smart, polite, an overall joy to be around.
Watching the two of them together, Rylan hoped Thrett would actually want to be a father to Trystin. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Trystin would be thrilled. Naturally, they would have to break the news gently, but she knew he would be happy about it once the shock wore off.
“Well, I have a date with a mani-pedi coming up soon, so I’m gonna head out,” Ginette said, clearly wanting to give them some time to bond as a family. “See you Monday, kiddo!”
“Bye, Miss Ginny,” Trystin said, growing quiet and thoughtful as he focused on the remains of his treat.
As she headed to the parking lot, Ginette gave Rylan a pointed look and held her thumb and pinky to her head like she was holding a phone. Call me, she mouthed silently and then sashayed away.
Thrett patted the spot next to him on the bench, but that seemed far too close for safety. Just watching him lick at a dripping ice cream sandwich nearly sent her into the throes of ecstasy, so feeling the heat of his body and smelling his slightly smoky musk was most definitely not appropriate at a park where children were playing. And right next to where her son was sitting, looking pensive? Yeah, hard pass.
Plopping next to Trystin, she nudged him with her elbow until he looked up at her, blinking rapidly like he’d been deep in thought. “What do you think about inviting Thrett to our picnic?”
“Oh, yes, please,” he said, swiveling to turn to Thrett. “Please? Will you come?”
“Sure, bud, just name the day.”
“Today,” Rylan explained. “Like…now. If you want.”
Her face heated at the uncertainty she felt about him, or more accurately how he felt about them. When Thrett’s broad smile faltered, she felt the disappointment all the way to her toes. Trystin noticed too because his perfect little brow furrowed with deep worry lines.
“Sh—” he started but then caught himself before he finished the curse. “Shoot. I can’t today. It’s Saturday and play practice starts at noon at the school. If I don’t get moving, I’m going to be late, and I need to be there before any kids arrive. Sorry, bud.”
Trystin dropped his head and shrugged, looking a little too pouty for her taste. Of course she wanted him to like Thrett, but he didn’t need to act so spoiled about their picnic.
“That’s okay,” she said, side-hugging her son. “Isn’t it, sweetie? I’m sure Thrett would much rather eat PB&Js with us, but he has to go to work.”
“Uh huh,” Trystin mumbled, frowning slightly. Thrett grimaced.
“He’s just hungry,” she explained quietly, not wanting Thrett to change his opinion of their son over a little late-morning melancholy. “I completely forgot play practice was today. It’s gonna be a good one. Right, T
rystin?”
“Uh huh.”
“Which play is it?” Thrett asked, trying to engage.
“Peter Pan,” he mumbled, his gaze darting around the park instead of looking at them.
Rylan sighed at the boy’s moodiness and took over. “The kids have been working really hard on this production. They’ve poured their hearts and souls into it and the tickets have already sold out.”
“Wow, sounds like you’ve really fostered a strong artistic program.”
Rylan beamed at the compliment. “Not just me. The staff and kids do all the hard work.”
“Can…” Trystin started in a timid tone, finally meeting their gazes with wide, worried eyes.
“What’s that, sweetie?” she asked, brushing the hair from his eyes.
“Can we go too?”
“To play practice?”
“Uh huh,” he nodded. “Blaise is in it.”
Thrett broke into a radiant grin that would have made her knees weak if she were standing. “Fantastic idea! As long as your mom doesn’t mind giving us a rain check on that picnic.”
They both turned eager eyes on her and she laughed. “Of course we can.”
“Yay!” Trystin cried, dropping the last bite of his ice cream sandwich on the ground and bolting for the parking lot.
“No littering!” Rylan called after him as she threw away his garbage and joined Thrett in jogging after their incredibly excited son.
Rylan’s heart felt like it might burst out of her chest when she noticed both of them had similar gaits. They piled into their respective vehicles and headed to the school, where they met up in the big, dimly lit auditorium. They stood near the front of the stage, off to the side, to watch as Blaise Bradford and several other tiny, adorable children practiced their lines and songs together.
The director stood at the foot of the stage, directing as best he could, which was a bit like herding cats. The kids were all enthusiastic, though, and seemed to be having the time of their lives. Even the ones who were singing slightly off-key or off-beat sounded precious to adult ears. They were giving it their all, which was what Rylan tried to instill in her students.
Once Blaise’s scene was over, he went backstage, and Trystin tugged on Rylan’s hand. “Can I go back to see Blaise?”
“Of course, sweetie. Just make sure you don’t get in the way of practice. Okay?”
He nodded and bolted off to meet up with his bestie, leaving her alone with Thrett. Tension sparked between them to the point she could almost see the actual sparks. Silly, but that’s how it felt. Whenever they were near each other, she had the hardest time keeping her hands to herself. As it turned out, Thrett felt the same.
“I should, um, secure the perimeter,” he said quietly so no one else would hear. “Want to…join me?”
Yellow flashed in his eyes, reminding her of his true nature. But now, instead of terrifying her, it thrilled her. He obviously had more in mind than simply making sure all of the doors were locked, and she most definitely wanted to be a party to whatever that might be. Her answer was to smile and grab his hand.
They moved from door to door in the auditorium, Thrett boldly pushing through every door to see what might be lurking on the other side—spoiler alert, nothing ever was. He’d puff out his chest and push a little harder than necessary so his biceps would bulge impressively. They were certainly impressive, but Rylan rather liked that he was showing off for her.
Once they’d finished checking all of the exits backstage as well, Thrett pulled her behind a black curtain in the wings and pinned her against the wall. His eyes raked her flesh, finally resting on her parted lips. Then his mouth was on hers and the rest of the world vanished.
They leaned into one another in the darkness, swaying gently, as their kissing took a tender turn. Gone was the heated passion of the night before, replaced by inquisitive caresses and loving embraces. Thrett gave Rylan a sense of safety she’d never had before, a sense of security so true and real that it felt a bit like snuggling under the covers on a quiet Sunday morning.
Whatever was happening between them felt inevitable, and that didn’t worry her in the slightest. It just felt right.
* * *
Thrett broke the kiss long enough to drink in Rylan’s beauty as the din of the theater behind the curtains gave them the perfect cover. But this wasn’t just him trying to steal a little action when nobody was looking. It was so, so much more.
Holding her again, even for just a couple of stolen moments, made him feel lighter than air. And as a dragon, he knew better than most what that felt like. The depth, intelligence, and kindness in her eyes touched him like no other woman ever had.
Dipping so his forehead pressed against hers, he stared into her eyes and squeezed her hips. He didn’t want to scandalize anyone—especially the children—but he quite literally couldn’t stop himself from wanting to touch her. It was like a biological imperative, almost like what others described having a fated mate felt like.
When she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his in a long, slow kiss, it hit him full force. What an idiot! How had he not realized it sooner? Probably her human-ness messed up the signals in his dragony brain or something, but the imprint of her lips would forever be on his because she was his mate. His fated mate.
No wonder he’d never been able to form any kind of meaningful bond with another female. It explained why he’d hidden away for so long after their tryst and never even looked at another woman. It explained…everything!
His dragon roared inside his head, no doubt relieved he’d finally figured it out, and his cock raged in his pants. Kids be damned, he had to have her. Now.
But not out in the open. Not even finding out the woman you’ve pined after for almost a decade is your fated could muddle his thinking enough to go any further until they found real, secure privacy.
Grabbing her hand, he fought his way through all of the wing curtains until he found a narrow door that led to a small closet filled with dusty props. Pulling her inside, he closed out the rest of the world and focused on her.
His thick fingers slipped through her auburn hair, admiring it, playing with it in his rough hands as he smiled softly. Burying his hand in it at the nape of her neck, he fisted a handful and gently tugged her head backward to expose her long, tempting neck. Her eyes flashed a mixture of passion and challenge. A strong, powerful woman might object to being dominated…at first. At the very least, she wasn’t resisting him.
“You need to be more careful around a dragon’s natural instincts, my dear,” he growled in her ear, rejoicing in the goosebumps that pebbled her flesh. His cock pulsed in response.
She gave a throaty chuckle and let her eyes fall closed. “Oh yeah? Would I get into trouble if I did…this?”
Her hand palmed the strained fabric covering his crotch and he nearly lost all control. He groaned his need for her.
“So much trouble.”
He nipped at the lobe of her ear before trailing the sharp edges of his teeth delicately down to the nape of her neck. The scent of her perfume was intoxicating, and the arousal he could smell in the air was like an aphrodisiac to him.
“I’ve avoided trouble for eight years,” she breathed. “Maybe it’s time I live a little.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” he snarled, easily lifting her so she could wrap her legs around his waist.
He pushed her back against the door, loving the heat and dampness soaking into his bulge, but loving her even more. He’d always loved her, he suddenly recognized, and always would. Of course she had a say in the matter, but if it were up to him, he’d formally claim her right then and there. Maybe it was time to tell her.
“Rylan, there’s something you need to kn—”
“Thrett? Thrett, do you copy? Over!”
Thrett froze at the sound of Grizz’s panicked voice crackling over radio at his hip. Because of course the newest, most eager-to-please member of the Wildridge team would cock-bloc
k him at the most inopportune moment. As if there was ever an opportune moment to be cock-blocked. Still, he held up a finger to Rylan before plucking the radio from his belt.
“Copy, Grizz. What’s up?”
“I have visual on the van,” Grizz panted, sounding as if he were running. “It’s near the auditorium!”
Rylan gasped and Thrett felt the blood drain from his face. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath and then keyed the radio’s mic. “Okay, Grizz, you have my approval to intercept anyone who steps foot out of that van. Got it?”
“I’m all the way across campus,” he replied. “And I can’t even see if anyone’s inside from here.”
“Double shit!” Thrett spat, turning worried eyes on his mate before scanning the backstage area for suspicious activity.
“We have to find Blaise,” he told her and then spoke into the radio as he methodically checked behind every wing curtain. “Okay, Grizz, get here as soon as you can. I’ve secured all of the entrances already, but we’ll find Blaise and keep him safe. Over.”
A blast of static was the only response.
“You check that way. I’ll look over here,” he instructed as he ran to the other side of the stage, oblivious to the kids watching their antics with wide, almost-frightened eyes.
No one—not Blaise, not the bad guys—was hiding in the folds of any of the curtains, so Thrett stopped in the middle of the stage and checked each and every face in the auditorium. No Blaise.
“Anyone seen Blaise?” he called, trying his best to keep his tone light so he wouldn’t alarm the kids, but they were much more perceptive than adults gave them credit for. One little girl burst into tears immediately, and the rest shook their heads solemnly.
“Blaise Bradford!” called Rylan from somewhere backstage. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
