A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania #2)(4)

Since I had no desire to poop in a bucket for the rest of my life, I said, “I don’t hear anything, so let’s stop talking about it and focus on other things. Like how I’m about to change your life. For the better.”

“Anyone else, I might believe that. Coming from you, it sounds like a threat.”

Since anything he had to say was, at this point, entirely without merit, I ignored him. I had a scene to set, after all. “Imagine,” I said, waving my hands slowly in front of me, setting the shit out of that scene. “It’s a lovely evening. There’s music in the air. Everyone is happy. There’s a feeling of joy in your heart.”

He glared at me.

“Joy,” I insisted. “You’re feeling joy.”

His eyes narrowed further.

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll come back to that part and work on it a little later. By the way, did you know that the skin under your eye twitches when I talk? I noticed that a long time ago. I wonder why that is. You may want to see the doctor in case it’s a sign of illness or stress. Are you stressed? I can’t imagine why. Where was I? Dammit. I forgot what we were talking about.”

“Sam,” Justin ground out.

“That’s right,” I said. “The scene. There’s music and happiness—mostly—and joy in your heart, or there soon will be. The night stretches out in front of you, filled with promise. Your senses are tingling, and you’re thinking, Yes, this is going to be something magical. This is what I’ve been waiting for.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking right now.”

“Regardless,” I said, “you will be thinking it. And when you’re thinking it, when you’re caught up in the moment, when you feel like you’re finally alive, what’s the one thing you notice is missing?”

“The reason why your parents didn’t sell you for the highest price they could the moment they realized you were nothing but an unmitigated tragedy?”

“Close,” I said. “You’re missing love.”

He blinked at me, looking startled.

It didn’t last long.

“Love,” he repeated slowly, starting to frown.

“Love,” I agreed.

“Sam, I mean this in the most succinct way possible. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“What. The fuck. Are you talking about?”

I sighed. “Look, maybe, quite possibly, I feel bad for a certain knight coming to a dawning realization at the worst possible moment.”

“Really,” he said flatly. “You feel bad about that.”

I did. Granted, it led to my virginity getting completely destroyed by the love of my young, albeit adventurous, life, but yes. I still felt slightly bad. It’d been years since I’d given my heart away but only thirteen months since I was sure it’d be protected enough for me to let it go. And I would always remember the look of betrayal on Justin’s face when his husband-to-be looked him straight in the eye and said he loved another. “Mostly bad,” I said. “Slightly giddy, but bad too. It’s paradoxical, but then I am an enigma.”

He rolled his eyes. “I still blame you. But mostly him.”

“Because he’s an idiot.”

“Right? Such a fucking idiot.”

“Seriously! Who does that? He literally waited until you were getting married to confess his undying love and admiration for me.”

“I would have believed that more if you hadn’t gotten that sappy look on your face.”

I shrugged. “It’s a by-product. Of the love and admiration.”

“It’s an affliction. A symptom of a festering disease that must be eradicated.”

“Or one that we need to infect you with, which is why we’re here. Gods, I love it when conversations come full circle. Don’t you just love that? I do.”

He stared at me with an expression on his face that suggested he did not love that.

“Anyway,” I said hastily. “Let me get a good look at you before we proceed. I have to know what I’m working with.”

“Working with? Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you’re making me do?”

“To be fair, you don’t like anything I make you do, so. Now hush. Let me gaze upon you.”

“Is this some freakish wizard thing?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t. “That’s exactly it.” That wasn’t it at all.

I suppose if one liked frigid bitches hiding hearts laced with gold, one could reasonably say that Grand Prince Justin of Verania was an attractive man. Sure, he often looked like he’d bitten into the most bitter of lemons (something I’d tried to cure him of but only seemed to make worse), but men and women alike fawned over his porcelain skin, waxing poetically over his chocolate-brown curls. How regal he was, they exclaimed. How beautiful. It was as if the gods themselves had a hand in his making.

Even after I’d essentially princenapped him, he looked well put together. He was statuesque, broad shouldered with a narrow waist. He had elegant fingers and callused palms, a testament to how well-versed of a swordsman he was. His expensively embroidered tunic was stretched tightly across his arms and chest. His trousers had the right amount of pull along his thighs and— “Holy crap,” I breathed. “You’re dreamy.”