Zed
When Cari steps out of the limousine, she takes my breath away. She’s always beautiful, but all dressed up, she assassinates my heart. Her dress reminds me of the one she wore for our ill-fated date way back when, but it’s the sophisticated,grown-up version, and her blonde bob is styled into 1920s waves. She’s abombshell.
I’m not the only one who notices, either. Everyone around me is looking at her, too. But even in a crowd, her eyes immediately lock onto mine, her face brightening when she sees Radar by my side. She missed us as much as we missed her.
It’d be perfect if it weren’t for the goddamn incubus holding her hand. At my feet, Radar’s nostrils flare, his feathery little tail wagging as he catches Cari’s scent. His feet start tippy-tapping in excitement until they draw near.
The moment Tristan’s hellfire hits us, the hair on Radar’s spine lifts, and a warning growl slips out.
“I know, buddy. I feel the same way,” I tell him, leaning to scoop him up under my arm. While I’d like to bite Tristan’s ankles as much as he would, I don’t want Cari to have a moment of unpleasantness tonight.
“You found it!” Cari gushes, straightening Radar’s bowtie before scratching between his ears. “Thanks so much for dog-sitting. I can’t tell you how much I needed a day off. I feel relaxed for the first time in forever.”
I lean close to kiss her on the cheek in greeting and murmur, “I remember you being pretty relaxed last night.”
When I pull back, her cheeks are pink, and try as she might, she can’t keep the smile off her face. “Shhh,” she fusses, glancing at Tristan, who definitely overheard because I wanted him to.
His mouth is tight as he extends his hand to shake mine. “Luckily they washed all the dragon stench off her at the spa,” he says flatly, squeezing way too hard. I have no problem squeezing just as hard in return.
As if on cue, Radar growls menacingly from underneath my arm, and Tristan hurriedly steps back. He plucks a single stray dog hair from his lapel, frowning as he brushes more invisible ones off the front of his tuxedo shirt.
He thinks he could compete for Cari’s heart when he’s concerned about a little dog hair? Fucking idiot. “This is theAlliance for Animal Welfaregala. If you’re allergic to pet fur, you should have picked a different event.”
His return gaze is cool. “Youshould have picked a different tux.”
Fuck. The fur lapels. I knew I shouldn’t have let Gabe talk me into this one.
“It’s vintage,” I say defensively.
None of the rental shops in San Drogo had tuxes available in my size, so Gabe, Radar, and I ended up at a cool vintage shop by the waterfront where the proprietor, a trolless with a dozen sparkling rings in her large, pointed ears, didn’t mind Radar coming inside the shop. She had eagerly shown us her collection of classic tuxedos with tail-holes.
Gabe, who’s always been more fashion-forward than me, pulled a navy wool jacket with black curly-lamb lapels from the rack immediately.
I was skeptical at first, but it fit perfectly. The matching black pants even had some extra room in the crotch in case of a rogue half-shift.
“It looks like it was made for you,” the trolless crooned as she tied a black bowtie that matched Radar’s at the collar. She stepped back, looking me up and down. “Absolute perfection. I should hire you to model for my shop.”
Gabe nodded. “Seriously, dude, it’s sharp. You look straight off of this year’s Tokyo runways.”
I checked myself out in the mirror, trying to imagine what Cari would think of it. Would she be proud to be on my arm tonight? “I like it, but I don’t know about the fur,” I mused aloud.
“It’s respecting the animal to wear vintage fur,” the trolless assured me. “Plus, curly-lamb is a byproduct of the meat industry. It’s not like mink where it’s just raised for fashion.”
“Cari will love it,” Gabe added. “She can’t keep her hands off her dog, right? She’ll be petting you all night.”
So I went with it. But judging by the sideways looks I’m getting, not just from Tristan but others milling around the venue entrance, too, it was a bad choice.
“I’ll take it off when we get inside,” I tell Cari, offering her my free arm. She takes it, but Tristan doesn’t relinquish his hold on her other arm, so she’s sandwiched between us.
“I feel like a princess with her bodyguards,” she jokes, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
It doesn’t get any better inside, when we get to our assigned table and Tristan and I have a short tussle over who gets to pull out Cari’s chair.
Tristan wins since I’m still carrying Radar. My feral form and I both growl at his smug expression.
“Hey,” Cari whispers when I take the seat on her left and put my jacket under the table for Radar to use as a makeshift dog bed. “Stop. He’s just being nice. Don’t forget he gave us the extra ticket so you could come, okay?”
Right. I need to stay cool. She’s my mate. Not even shitty demon-magic can change that. And I don’t want to ruin her event by acting like a dick just becausehe’sacting like a dick.
