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She was finally setting foot inside of a dragon clan for the first time in her life.
As she went past the gate, she expected something to happen. Maybe for someone to throw something at her, call her names, and tell her to get lost. Or maybe a group would shout that half-dragon-shifters weren’t welcome and she needed to leave.
But nothing happened. Violet waved to the tall male near the entrance, the blond one Percy remembered seeing right before she’d blacked out inside the facility.
Violet shouted, “Hi ya, Kai. There’s no need to scowl. We won’t cause any trouble. Well, Percy won’t. We’ll see what I get up to.”
The dragonman grunted. Bronx, on the other side of Violet, sighed and said, “You’re going to be the death of me one day, Vi. I just know it.”
Violet winked at her dad. “I wouldn’t do that. I’d miss you too much. But I’m definitely up for giving you a few more gray hairs.”
Bronx brushed his temples, which had a smattering of gray. “All from you, love. All from you.”
Violet laughed, and Bronx grinned. He did that a lot around his daughter. And every time, Percy couldn’t stop staring at the one dimple he had, on his left cheek.
This time was no different. But once she realized what she was doing, she looked at Bronx’s eyes. His pupils flashed rapidly.
Fuck.Had he caught her staring at him?
Facing forward, she willed her cheeks not to flush. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. But she’d never seen many people smile in her lifetime—at least in a non-menacing way, like the guards back inside the facility—and never with dimples.
And apparently, she rather liked dimples.
For a beat, she wondered what it’d be like to touch Bronx’s and then feel his usual late-day stubble against her fingers.
Percy quickly banished that image, one she would never act upon. Bronx had been a fairly good teacher so far, and she wouldn’t ruin that and risk ending up with someone else who would try to rush her.
If she wanted her dragon, then she would most definitely stop staring at Bronx’s dimple. He was a means to an end and nothing else.
As they walked farther inside the clan, Percy easily distracted herself by taking in the buildings. There had been a large one not far from the gate—the security office, Violet had pointed out—and then it’d been a pathway with a few plants and shrubs for a few minutes. Then the plants cleared, revealing a few streets and several groups of buildings. Most were stone cottages, but there were also some two-story brick buildings that were shops ranging from food to clothing and even a jewelry place, judging by the sign with rings and bigger bands with engravings.
Violet must’ve caught her staring because she waved toward the jewelry shop. “That’s the silversmith. Well, one half of it is, anyway, and the other part is where you can paint pottery. It’s run by Dylan. He makes all the mating cuffs for couples, plus he also designs everyone’s dragon tattoos.”
She glanced at the younger dragonwoman. “So you can just pick one out from a book or something?”
Violet shook her head. “No. Your tattoo design is given to you as a gift from your family, soon after you’re born. And not literally on your skin, but as a framed print. Then when you turn sixteen, you get your tattoo permanently inked onto your upper arm.” Violet paused to tap hers. “I can’t wait to finally get mine in less than a year. My design is kind of like my dad’s, but not really. Maybe Dad can show you his?”
She glanced at Bronx, and he grunted. “Maybe later.”
For a split second, disappointment rushed through Percy. She’d only had brief glances of them since arriving, but she’d never studied one for any length of time.
But she pushed aside the feeling. Seeing a dragon tattoo had nothing to do with her goals.
As they continued walking, Violet pointed out the various stores, explained who ran them, and even gestured down a street to where she lived. “We’re closer to the high street than most people. But it’s useful for my dad, so he can get to the Protector building quickly.”
Bronx grunted. “Not anymore.”
Percy leaned forward a little and asked, “Why not?”
He shrugged. “I can’t do rescue missions any longer.”
Violet waved a hand in dismissal. “But he still helps out with advising and helping to coordinate missions sometimes. Regardless, it’s been my home my whole life, and I like it.”
She wondered what it would feel like to have a place of your own, to be in control of how things were arranged or decorated, or to even just control who could enter. The idea was so bloody foreign to her.
A female voice shouted, “Bronx, Percy, wait up!”
They stopped, and Percy turned, spotting a dragonwoman with dark skin, black hair pulled back into a bun, and dark-brown eyes.
