Page 8 of Courted By the Grumpy Dragon (Monsters of Saltford Bay #2)

"Have you ever done a corn maze before?" I ask as we approach the entrance.

"I have not had the pleasure."

"Then allow me to be your guide." I gesture grandly toward the towering corn stalks. "After you."

He steps into the narrow opening, ducking slightly to avoid the hanging sign that reads "ENTER IF YOU DARE.

.." in dripping red letters. I follow close behind, immediately aware of how the space between us seems to shrink once we're inside the maze.

The sounds of the festival become muffled, distant, replaced by the soft rustle of corn stalks swaying in the evening breeze as we get deeper into the maze and away from the crowd.

Kraxon's broad shoulders nearly span the width of the path, his wings occasionally brushing against the corn. Each time they do, he tenses slightly, adjusting his posture. I notice a fluffy corn tassel caught on the delicate membrane at the tip of his right wing, gently swaying with his movements.

"Hold on," I say, gesturing to his wing. "You've got something..."

Without thinking, I reach toward the golden appendage, my fingers hovering just inches from the silky membrane. His golden eyes fix on my outstretched hand, and for a moment, neither of us moves.

I pull my hand back, warmth flooding my cheeks. "Sorry, I didn't mean to... "

"It's fine." His voice sounds rougher than before. He adjusts his wings, tucking them more tightly against his spine. The tuft of corn tassel falls to the ground as he does, like it's mocking me. "Better?"

"Perfect." I turn quickly, leading us deeper into the maze. "This way."

We reach a fork in the path, and I choose left, the glow necklace casting eerie green light on the corn stalks around us.

"Do you know the correct route?" Kraxon asks, following close behind.

"I'm on the organizing committee, but I don't know the actual path." I glance back at him. "That would be cheating."

"And yet you're guiding me."

"I'm accompanying you. There's a difference." I slow my pace to walk beside him. "Besides, getting lost is half the fun."

"Is it?" He sounds genuinely puzzled.

"Haven't you ever enjoyed not knowing where you're going? Just... seeing what happens?"

"I prefer clarity and direction in all things."

"Of course you do." I laugh softly. "You probably alphabetize your spice rack."

"By frequency of use, actually." There's that hint of amusement again, warming his voice. "More efficient."

As we walk deeper into the maze, our conversation shifts from stilted to something resembling normal.

I tell him about the library's upcoming Halloween events, and he asks thoughtful questions about attendance and community support.

When I mention our perennial funding challenges, he listens with unexpected interest, without interrupting me or offering unsolicited advice .

We discover a dead end with a bench made of hay bales. I sit down, patting the space beside me.

"Break time. We've earned it."

After a moment's hesitation, Kraxon joins me, careful to leave space between us. The glow necklace casts his features in strange, shifting light, emphasizing the elegant structure of his face. Up close, I can see how his scales catch the glow, reflecting it back in tiny golden sparks.

He's so handsome, I can barely look at him directly.

"Harold loved this festival," I say softly, looking up at the stars above the corn stalks. "Last year he came dressed as a wizard for the children's costume parade. Had this ridiculous fake beard that kept falling off. He didn't care, though. Just laughed and stuck it back on every time."

To my surprise, Kraxon's lips curve in a faint smile. It transforms him completely, turning his severe, almost sculptural beauty into something warmer. Something that makes my stomach flutter like it's being invaded by a stampede of unusually angry moths.

"Harold was always theatrically inclined, even in legal matters. He once brought a musical snow globe to a settlement negotiation. Said it helped him think."

I find myself fascinated not only with the side of Harold I never knew, but by this softer, more open version of Kraxon Ashbane. A Kraxon I should protect myself from. If only I was that smart.

"How long did you know him?" I ask him.

"We met when I was still in law school. He was my first mentor during a highly competitive internship." Kraxon's voice softens with the memory. "Everyone else saw me as a rich heir who had the world handed to him on a silver platter. Harold saw how hard I worked and gave me a chance. "

This vulnerability creates a shift between us. I move slightly closer on the hay bale, our shoulders almost touching. The cinnamon scent grows stronger in response, wrapping around my senses like a warm blanket.

"I miss him," Kraxon admits, so quietly I almost don't hear it. The words sound reluctant, as if pulled from somewhere deep.

"I miss him, too."

Something tightens in my chest at the simple confession. Without overthinking, I reach out and place my hand over his where it rests on the hay between us.

The contact sends visible heat rippling beneath his scales. Neither of us moves for a long moment. The rustling of the corn around us seems to grow louder in the silence.

I look up at him, finding his golden eyes already on my face, intense and unreadable.

His cinnamon scent intensifies, wrapping around me like a physical touch, and my entire body floods with arousal like I've never experienced before.

My heart pounds against my ribs, and my breath catches in my throat.

Without allowing myself to second-guess, I lean forward and kiss him, a soft, bold movement that surprises even me.

For a heartbeat, Kraxon remains perfectly still. Then he responds with sudden, overwhelming heat, his hand coming up to cradle my face as he kisses me back with barely restrained passion. His lips are warmer than a human's, firm yet unexpectedly soft against mine.

The cinnamon scent engulfs us both as his wings partially deploy, creating a cocoon of warmth around us.

My head spins with the intensity of it all, my hands gripping his shoulders through the fine fabric of his coat.

His skin radiates heat like a furnace, and I press closer, drawn to that warmth like a moth to a flame.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, Kraxon pulls away, his breathing ragged. His eyes glow golden in the darkness, pupils narrowed to slits as he stares at me with an expression I can't decipher.

"I'm sorry Nina," he says, voice rough. "This is my fault."

I reach for him again, confused by the abrupt shift. "I don't understand."

He stands, wings now fully extended, their impressive span blocking out the starlight above us. His incredible cinnamon smell still overpowers my senses, but it's dissipating now that his wings aren't wrapped around me and with it, some of my arousal.

"I can't," he says stiffly. "This is a mistake."

Before I can respond, he launches himself upward, powerful wings carrying him above the corn maze and into the night sky. The downdraft from his takeoff sends my hair flying around my face, obscuring my view as he disappears from sight.

I remain on the hay bale, fingers touching my lips where I can still feel the heat of his kiss, surrounded by the lingering scent of cinnamon and ash. My heart continues its frantic pace, my body still humming with an arousal that has nowhere to go.

I have no idea what just happened, but I intend to find out.