Page 9 of Clashing With The Grumpy Wolf

He stops walking and turns to face me. His expression remains impassive, but his eyes narrow slightly.

"This is a gathering of all the high-ranking members of the most powerful and richest dragon clan this side of the continent. Both the current and future matriarch are going to be present. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how much of an opportunity this is for any enemies they may have."

"I'm aware of the importance of this event," I counter, keeping my voice level. "But checkpoints will disrupt the flow of the evening, and uniformed officers will clash with the bride’s aesthetic vision."

Workers nearby pretend not to notice our exchange, but their movements slow as they eavesdrop. I try to ignore it, but it’s hard not to care when I’m offering such a spectacle.

"The Draaks want their guests to feel welcomed, not policed," I add.

Adrian crosses his arms over his broad chest, the fabric of his uniform pulling taut across his shoulders.

His wide, deliciously muscular werewolf shoulders.

Down, girl.

"The bride’s aesthetic vision is irrelevant if someone gets hurt."

Okay, now he’s just being a jerk. And I chew jerks for breakfast.

"And what exactly do you think your department will do here?" I gesture to my clipboard. "The guest list has been vetted by Silverine Draak herself. No one who doesn’t belong here will step a foot inside this house."

"It's not the guest list I'm worried about." His jaw tightens and that animal glint in his eyes flash again. "It's those who are not on a list. Old wounds run deep among dragons and I’m not putting it past one of them to take advantage of a weak point in the security spurred by some aesthetic vision."

He’s saying that like Seraphina’s dream day is some frivolous nonsense. I’ll show him nonsense.

I exhale slowly, trying to rein in my frustration.

"Perhaps we should continue this discussion while touring the rest of the venue. The reception will take place here in the ballroom, but the wedding ceremony will be in the rose garden."

Without waiting for his response, I stride toward the hallway, heels clicking against marble. Adrian follows, his footsteps nearly silentbehind me, despite his size. The silence of this big man following me is unsettling, like being stalked by a predator.

In the ornate hallway, portraits of past Draak matriarchs watch our progress with iridescent eyes.

"Have you been sheriff long?" I ask, attempting small talk to break the tension.

"Eight years," he replies curtly.

"And you've handled security for dragon events before?"

"Yes."

I wait for elaboration. None comes. As we walk, I'm increasingly aware of him, the way he moves with controlled power, how his eyes scan each doorway, window, and alcove. The scent of pine and something wild, distinctly male, hangs around his powerful frame. I catch myself noticing how his uniform fits across his broad back and tapers down to narrow hips, to mold a perfectly round ass.

Jeez.

I quickly redirect my attention to my clipboard.

"The rose garden is just through here," I say, pushing open a set of French doors.

Afternoon sunlight bathes the terraced garden in golden warmth. Rosebushes bloom in riots of color, bloodred, silver white, pale violet. The air is heavy with their perfume. Stone pathways wind between them, leading to the cliff's edge where the ceremony will take place.

I gesture toward the ocean vista stretching to the horizon.

"This is where they'll exchange vows, then take their first flight together as mates."

Adrian's expression doesn't change, but his eyes track the movement of my hand.

"This is a security nightmare," he states flatly. "Open exposure on three sides. I’ll have to cordon off the garden access for this to work."