Alpha's Fire (Shifter Ops 4)

Right now, seeing her in our colors drives me mad with desire.

“You look spectacular.” To the stylist, I say, “We’ll take it.”

“Wonderful, do you need shoes to match?”

“Yes, what do you have?” Tabitha asks.

“Let me bring you some options. What is your size?”

“I wear an eight in US sizing, which is 39 in European.”

The stylist disappears, and Tabitha twirls for me again, swishing the train like a dragon’s tail.

“You’re incredible.” My voice is gruff with desire.

She struts over and rips off my sunglasses. Her wide smile is triumphant when she sees my dragon eyes. “You love seeing me in your colors.”

“I do,” I admit. I also love that she’s enjoying herself.

Tabitha has been at ease since we arrived in Paris two nights ago. She’s enjoyed shopping and sightseeing. She hasn’t tried to escape or use a phone although I did allow her to email her friends last night. I couldn’t risk her speaking to them. Not yet.

But soon, I hope, my bride will accept me.

In the meantime, I must do everything I can to stay in control. Which, unfortunately, is getting harder by the minute. Especially when I’m confined in a large city without any space to shift and fly.

But tonight is New Year’s Eve. I’ve arranged a private, romantic dinner in the finest restaurant in Paris. I can’t risk crowds or anything that would set my dragon off with jealousy or fear for her safety. Now that she’s found the dress she loves, we can return to Romania tomorrow.

The stylist returns, and Tabitha quickly thrusts my sunglasses back on my face.

“I found several really nice options that would complement the dress.”

“Ruby slippers!” Tabitha exclaims as if that should mean something to me. “No?” She puts them on and clicks her heels. “Let’s see if they work.” She closes her eyes. “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”

It’s some cultural reference I slept through, but judging by the way the stylist stares at Tabitha, equally mystified, I suspect it’s an American one.

“It’s an old movie, no?” the stylist asks.

Tabitha slips the shoes off and tries on a pair of red stilettos. “Yes. The Wizard of Oz. It was written as an allegory of American politics during the turn of the century. Most people don’t know that, though. They think it’s a family movie.”

I watch Tabitha slip her feet into a pair of golden high-heeled sandals, allowing the stylist to buckle the slender gold straps around her ankles. She may have been living in a train car, but she’s as regal as any queen in any century. My bride was born to rule at my side.

“We really need to work on your pop culture references, Gabriel.” She looks at the stylist. “He’s the only one on the planet who hasn’t watched Friends. I almost want him to avoid it. Remain pure.”

The stylist laughs. “Even I have watched Friends.” She sits back and surveys Tabitha. “These are your shoes, no? They look perfect.”

“They do, but I sort of want the ruby slippers.”

“We’ll take both,” I cut in. She should have anything her heart desires.

“Are you getting impatient?” There’s laughter in Tabitha’s expression.

“Never, my treasure. I could watch you try on clothes all day.”

“You have watched me try on clothes all day,” she reminds me. “Yesterday, too. And you bought almost everything I tried on.”

“I want you to have everything you enjoy.”

“I enjoy Taos,” she says pointedly, stepping out of the unbuckled sandals and turning to give her back to the stylist, who helps her unzip the elaborate gown. “I enjoy my friends. I enjoy calling my mother on New Year’s to wish her a happy holiday. Especially when I missed calling her on Christmas because someone was flying me across the ocean!”

My dick goes rock hard when the dress comes off, and my beautiful mate stands in the private dressing room in nothing but a tiny G-string. But we’re not alone, and my dragon is unstable.

I need to get her back to my penthouse where I can ravish her before dinner.

“We’ll call your mother before dinner,” I tell her because my desire to please my bride overrides my usual need to control the situation and her.

“Really?” she brightens, picking up her bra and putting it on, then donning the sweater dress she arrived in.

“I want to meet this woman who will be in my court when it comes to convincing you to marry me.”

Tabitha pulls on her calfskin boots and wraps a matching belt around her hips. “If you think my mother has any influence whatsoever over my love life, you are sorely mistaken.”

I love the teasing lilt to her voice. There’s a playfulness, a lightness between us that has been here from the beginning. It’s all Tabitha. She is lightness and laughter. Pleasure and kindness.

“Oh, I haven’t underestimated the challenge you will give me, Tabitha.” I catch her gaze and hold it, loving the way her breath hitches and her pulse thrums at her neck. I hold out my hand. “Come, beautiful. I need to be the one who undresses you next time.”