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“He has the same bond with poles. He smashed into one just this morning,” Ethel said, taking a sip of her scotch.
Milo glared at her. “I need Rowan to come back so he can cradle me in his bountiful bosom. You all are being mean.”
“Isn’t that him over there talking to a woman?” Shelly said.
“WHICH WOMAN?!” Milo yelled, rocketing to his feet and scanning the area. Tiny flecks of ice flew everywhere.
He found Rowan standing next to THE waitress, leaning down to get his face closer to hers as she pointed to something she was holding in her hands. Milo couldn’t see what it was; Rowan’s back was covering it. Or was it Milo’s blinding rage? Either way, the mysterious thing had Rowan breathing the same air as the woman, and Milo felt himself expanding from inside out.
His back bowed and he could feel his wings itching to burst free. Pale blue scales slithered over his skin and climbed up his neck to his face. His vision changed from sharp, multicolored images to something cool, silver, and glittering along the edges.
“Milo…” He heard Ray call out to him but he shook his head, clawed hands gripping the edge of the table, piercing tiny holes in the tablecloth.
Rowan and the woman moved before Milo could take a step. They headed toward their table, Rowan first, a bright smile on his face until he caught Milo’s eye.
No, he mouthed, speeding up and weaving through the chairs to get to him.
Stupidly, the woman behind him took his dash as a prompt and sped up too, practically jogging to catch up. Milo could work with that. The sooner she got there the sooner he could turn her into an icicle.
“Settle down,” Rowan said the moment he reached him, reaching for Milo’s shoulder.
He swatted Rowan’s hand away and leaned around him to look at the woman, who skidded to a halt just before slamming into his back.
She was holding a baked Alaska.
She looked up when she realized Milo was watching and with a beaming smile, held the cake up toward him.
“This is for…”
Milo inhaled. His chest expanded, his lungs filling with air that his dragon turned to pure ice. He pressed his lips together to let it build. He needed enough to cover her from head to toe.
He’d just opened his mouth to exhale onto her when a pair of fire-warm lips caught his own. Their breath mingled, fire slipping around ice, twining and braiding until it meshed into a tendril of warmth that escaped their kiss and rushed toward the cake.
It caught the top of it.
Singed the white meringue tips until they were caramel-gold and warm to the touch.
“A show!!” Milo heard Glenn clapping.
“We are so getting banned from this place.” Raina sighed.
“Is it too late to pretend I’m not related to any of you?” Ruben asked.
“I didn’t have relations with any of you either,” Conrad added helpfully.
Milo closed his eyes and kissed Rowan harder.
He’d deal with the fallout of his little pissing contest later.
The contest he’d won, by the way. Just to be clear.
He opened his eyes mid-kiss just to send the waitress one last glare, but she was already gone.
Sore loser.
Epilogue
Three years later
