A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania 2)

He shrugged. “Probably.”

And so I surged forward and kissed him, knocking him against the wall behind him. It was awkward and messy what with the tongue and spit and the fact that he was laughing, laughing, laughing at me, his smile pressed against mine, his grip firm on my face.

Eventually, I just rested my forehead on his, breathing him in, feeling the heat and weight of him against me, familiar and sweet.

“I’m worried,” he finally said.

“About?” I asked as I kissed his nose and cheek. The corner of his mouth.

“What if…?”

“What if what?”

He sighed, breath hot on my face. “What if she tries to take you away? To her clan?”

I snorted. “Not gonna happen.”

“We don’t know why she’s here.”

“No, we don’t. But I’m not leaving Castle Lockes. I’m not leaving my parents. Or the King. Or Gary and Tiggy. And I’m not leaving you. Ryan, there are things more important in this world than where I come from. And that’s where I’m going. With them and with you. You’re my cornerstone. If she says I have to go with her, if she tries to make me, she’s going to have a fight on her hands, because I won’t let anything tear us apart. I promise.”

“Yeah?” he said, arching against me, sounding rather breathless.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said. “There’s going to be tongue and spit and everything.”

I grinned at him. “Fuck yeah. I’m totally down with that. This was hella romantic. Even if it smells like feet in here.”

He rolled his eyes but kissed the hell out of me anyway. So that was okay.

TWELVE MINUTES later, we stumbled through the Great Doors into the throne room, where everyone was waiting for us. I brushed my hands over my hair, trying to smooth it back down, knowing I couldn’t do a damn thing about how swollen my lips were or the stubble burn on my chin. If I looked anywhere near as debauched as Ryan did, then I was going to get so much shit.

“I said five minutes,” Morgan reminded me as we approached the throne where the King was seated. The throne itself was a massive thing, forged from black stone, inlaid with veins of silver and gold and quartz. It was ostentatious, like the heavy crown the King wore upon his head, and he preferred not to have anything to do with them at all. But for appearance’s sake, it was required every so often.

Like now.

“Did you?” I said to Morgan. “I could have sworn you said to let our young love fly free.”

“Sam got kissy face,” Tiggy whispered to Gary.

“Of course he does, kitten,” Gary said. “That’s what happens when you’re a slut.”

“You get that too.”

“Well, yes,” Gary said patiently. “Because I’m a slut.”

“Oh,” Tiggy said. “Tiggy no slut. I love my flower.”

“Of course you do. And one day, you’ll meet a nice boy or girl giant and there will probably be a lot of grunting and monosyllabic wordplay and then your flower will be shredded.”

“Or I can have more brooms,” Tiggy said.

“Or that,” Gary agreed. “Because all that matters is that you’re happy and that Sam’s a slut.”

Mom and Dad stood off next to Justin’s smaller throne. Mom looked rather stricken, Dad’s arm still firmly around her, holding her close. I squeezed Ryan’s hand before letting it go and walking over to them. Mom’s dark eyes were trained on me, watching every step I took. She made the smallest of sounds as I hugged her, like she was surprised. Her arms came up and around my back, clutching tightly. She was strong, this woman I adored, even if she only came up to my chin. She was the fiercest of people, who loved with her whole heart. She was kind and good and never had a cross word for anyone. I couldn’t stand the look on her face.

“We’re going to be okay,” I murmured as my dad rubbed a hand up and down her back. “I promise.”