by Starla Night
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.
Chapter Two
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.
She tilted her head, evaluating him from top to bottom. “Why?”
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“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.
