Page 73 of Ale Storm

“We should set something aflame.” Jildarin nodded. “I am growing to like this idea. I believe people even expect fiery dishes from a dragon.”

“I would think so,” Mya said.

“Thank you, Jildarin.” Rylana gripped his hand, glad he’d conceded, at least to some degree. Lowering her voice again, she murmured, “It’s nice of you to help the other businesses on the street—and be a good neighbor.”

“I am agreeing to this because you requested it,” Jildarin said, some of the intensity returning to his eyes as he held her gaze.

Rylana thought of their interrupted interlude in the kitchen. Would he agree to go back to such activities once the wagon was unloaded? Unfortunately, the dwarves were just now guiding their horses to pull the wagon around to the back. It might take them hours to carry all those kegs into the storeroom.

“You are my business partner,” Jildarin added, lifting his hand toward her face. “And you are the one…” He looked in the direction of the lake—of her father’s estate?—and didn’t seem to know quite how to finish the sentence, but he brushed his knuckles along her jaw.

Rylana swallowed as his touch evoked a shiver of pleasure. “You’re the one for me too.”

“Yes.” He stepped closer, his lips parting.

Apparently not caring that Mya and the dwarves were still in the street with them, he bent to kiss her. Rylana didn’t care about the audience either. She wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss.

But, before their lips had touched for more than a moment, a crack sounded, startling them. Rylana and Jildarin sprang apart.

Thuds followed, and wood shattered. Rylana spun toward the wagon. It had been rounding a corner to head to the street where the doors to the storehouse were located, but one of the wooden wheels had broken. The wagon bed now sat askew, and a keg had fallen from the top of the stack and landed on the unyielding cobblestones. It had broken open and was leaking ale.

“That may be a sign,” Jildarin said grimly, taking another step back from her.

“A sign of what?” Rylana asked. “That they loaded too many kegs on that wagon?”

“That the human gods do not wish me to mate with you until I’ve earned your father’s blessing.”

“The gods don’t care about that.”

“Are you certain? There has been speculation that since the troll gods have returned their awareness to the mortal realm, other deities may have learned of the fallacy of the new god and also be reawakening.”

“Even if every god my people ever worshipped was awake and looking down upon Tranquility, none of them would care about us having a physical relationship.”

Jildarin gazed at her. “Is there not a religious component to marriage and mating in the human cultures? The book mentioned that young females should marry before engaging in coitus.”

“That’s an old custom. Look, Jildarin. You can’t kiss me and get me all excited and then walk away. I want—” Rylana cut herself off, reminded that they weren’t alone. Blushing, she looked toward Mya.

But Mya had gone to the wagon. “I’ll take this broken keg and put the contents to use. Boys, help me carry it into the bakery.”

“You are right,” Jildarin said quietly, ignoring Mya and gazing at Rylana. “It is not appropriate for me to touch you in a stimulatory manner if I do not intend to mate with you. But I am drawn to you and, as I’ve informed you, have been aching with new desires that I did not experience in the early months of being shape-shifted into human form. It is… even more intense than the mating imperative I feel in dragon form when near a female in heat.” Though he hadn’t closed the distance between them, he lifted a hand toward her, longing in his eyes. “I am fascinated, intrigued, compelled, curious, and…”

“Horny?” she suggested at his pause.

He laughed softly. “Yes.”

“I am too.”

Drawn by his laugh—by him—she stepped closer to his outstretched hand. The dwarves were hurrying to deliver the broken keg to the bakery, and the street wasn’t the best place for an interlude, but that gesture was one of invitation. And she wanted to be invited.

But Jildarin’s expression changed, and the beckoning hand shifted, palm out to keep her back.

Frustration at his mixed signals almost made her snap, but he wasn’t looking at her now. His gaze had shifted skyward.

High above, almost hidden by the darkness, a black winged shape soared. Had it been cloudy instead of starry, Rylana wouldn’t have noticed the dragon at all, but then two pinpoints of silver light seemed to gleam in the sky as the great creature looked down at her. Those were icy reptilian eyes.

“It’s Loxvonla,” Jildarin said grimly. “I did not sense her earlier since she is so high above the ground, and I… was distracted.” His gaze shifted back to Rylana. “I should not have kissed you in the open. That was unwise. Not only because an incorrect ordering of courting and coitus might displease your gods.”

“You didn’t know one of those bitchy dragons would be spying on us.”