Page 7 of Curvy Girl and the Single Dad Dragon (Cedar Falls: Fated Mates #2)

"Four large pizzas?" The delivery guy looks between the three of us with obvious confusion. "That's a lot of food for—"

"We're having a movie night," I explain smoothly, handing over my credit card before Damon can protest. "Plus, leftovers for tomorrow."

The delivery guy nods, clearly not caring enough to question further, and completes the transaction. As he walks back to his car, I close the door and turn to find Damon watching me with an eyebrow raised.

"I could have paid for that," he says.

"Consider it my contribution to the “Dragons are real!” celebration." I carry the boxes to the kitchen island where plates are already waiting. "Besides, I just learned I'm getting paid to care for a mythological creature. That deserves some personal investment on my part."

Ember giggles from her perch on a barstool. "I'm not mythological. I'm right here!"

"You're right," I concede, opening the first box to reveal a steaming pepperoni pizza. "You're very real, and very hungry from what I can tell."

"Starving!" she declares, swinging her arms and then reaching for a slice that Damon deftly intercepts.

"What do we do first?" he reminds her gently.

Ember sighs but obediently closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose. I watch, fascinated, as she seems to concentrate for a moment before opening her eyes again.

"No fire," she announces proudly. "It's safe."

"Good girl." Damon places two slices on her plate. "Remember, food is—"

"Fuel for the fire, not the reason for it," she recites, clearly having heard this many times. "I know, Daddy."

I look between them, adding this exchange to my growing mental list of "Dragon Facts." "Is that why you check first? To make sure she's not too excited to eat?"

Damon nods, serving himself three slices. "Young dragons can accidentally ignite their food if they're not careful. It's an instinctive thing. Our ancestors cooked their prey with their fire before eating."

"That's... actually really practical," I say, taking a slice for myself. "So fire breathing isn't just for defense or showing off?"

"It's a tool," Damon explains, leaning against the counter. "For cooking, for warmth, for working certain materials. Combat too, historically, though that's rare these days."

"Unless you count the Great Dragon Wars," Ember pipes up, cheese stretching from her pizza to her mouth.

Damon gives her a look that clearly says 'not now,' but my curiosity is piqued.

"Dragon Wars?" I ask, unable to help myself.

"A story for another time," Damon says firmly. "After you've had more than twelve hours to adjust to the existence of dragons."

I want to press for more, but I can see the wisdom in his approach. My mind is already spinning with everything I've learned today. Better to take it in manageable pieces.

"Fair enough," I concede. "I'm still processing the fact that I helped a fire-breathing six-year-old with her math homework this morning."

"You did really good with the fire," Ember says earnestly. "Most humans scream and run away, but you just helped me breathe better."

"I was following your dad's instructions," I remind her. "He told me exactly what to do if you had an... episode."

"But he didn't tell you it would be fire," she points out, her golden eyes wise beyond her years. "You figured it out and stayed anyway."

"Well, I couldn't very well leave my favorite dragon without a nanny, could I?" I say lightly, reaching out to tap Ember's nose. "Who else would help you with fractions?"

She wrinkles her nose. "I hate fractions."

"All dragons do," Damon says with mock seriousness. "It's our species' one weakness."

"Besides silver," Ember adds, then claps her hand over her mouth, looking guiltily at her father. "Oops."

I nearly choke on my pizza. "Silver? Like werewolves?"

Damon sighs, shooting his daughter an exasperated look. "Not exactly like werewolves, who, by the way, are also real."

"At this point, nothing surprises me anymore," I counter, raising an eyebrow.

That gets a reluctant smile from him. "Fair point.

But no, silver doesn't burn us or anything dramatic like that.

It interferes with certain aspects of our nature.

Makes it harder to control our temperature, dampens our heightened senses.

Mostly it's just uncomfortable, like wearing shoes that are too tight. "

"Is that why there's no silver in the house?" I ask, realizing I haven't seen any silver picture frames, candlesticks, or cutlery.

"Observant," Damon notes, looking impressed. "Yes, we avoid it when possible. Gold is actually much more comfortable for us. Dragons have an affinity for gold and certain gemstones."

"The treasure!" I exclaim, remembering Ember's earlier comment. "So that part of the legends is true?"

"We don't sleep on piles of gold coins, if that's what you're asking," he says dryly. "But yes, we do collect precious metals and gems. They... resonate with us, for lack of a better explanation."

"Do you have a treasure hoard?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Damon hesitates, and I immediately backtrack.

"Sorry, that's probably too personal. Like asking about your bank account."

"It's more like asking about a sacred space," he explains. "A dragon's hoard is private, meant only for family and the most trusted individuals."

"I have a baby hoard," Ember announces proudly. "Daddy helps me find special stones and shiny things for it."

"That's wonderful," I tell her, touched by this glimpse into their private dragon customs. "Maybe someday you can show me your favorite piece."

Her eyes light up. "Can I, Daddy? Luna's trustworthy, right?"

Damon's expression softens as he looks at his daughter. "Luna has proven herself trustworthy today, yes. But a hoard is still a very private thing. Let's give it some time."

Ember seems satisfied with this answer, returning to her pizza with enthusiasm. I take another slice myself, marveling at how surreal all this is: eating dinner with two dragons who look completely human except for their unusual golden eyes.

"So," I say after a few moments of comfortable silence, "what else should I know about caring for a young dragon? Any special requirements I should be aware of?"

Damon sets down his pizza, considering. "Like I told you before, Ember's temperature runs hotter than humans, around 101 degrees is normal for her."

"I noticed she feels warm when she hugs me," I nod. "Anything else?"

"She needs more sleep than human children her age, usually 10-12 hours. The fire takes energy to produce and control."

"That explains the nap," I muse, remembering how Ember had fallen asleep reading after lunch.

"And she'll need outdoor time every day, weather permitting," Damon continues. "Dragon children need space to run, to release energy safely."

"What about the fire?" I ask, glancing at Ember who is now on her fourth slice. "Is there anything I should do differently than what we did today?"

"You handled it perfectly," he assures me. "The breathing technique is the first line of defense against accidental flames. If that doesn't work, get her to a safe place—ideally somewhere without flammable materials—and call me immediately."

"Does it happen often?"

"Less than it used to," he says, pride evident in his voice. "She's learning control. Aren't you, princess?"

Ember nods solemnly. "I'm getting better every day. Today was an accident because I saw Mommy's picture and got sad."

My heart aches for her. "That's understandable. Everyone has accidents when they're learning something new."

"Even Daddy?" she asks, looking at her father with wide eyes.

Damon chuckles. "Even Daddy. When I was about your age, I got so excited about a new toy that I set fire to my father's favorite chair. He was not pleased."

I try to picture Damon as a small boy with the same golden eyes and dark hair, accidentally breathing fire in excitement. The image is both adorable and surreal.

"Where did you grow up?" I ask, then immediately worry it's too personal. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Originally in what's now Romania," he answers after a brief hesitation. "In the Carpathian Mountains. My family moved around Europe quite a bit during my childhood, staying in remote areas where we could shift forms without being observed."

"Shift forms," I repeat, the reality of what that means hitting me anew. "Into actual dragons. With wings and scales and everything."

"And tails," Ember adds helpfully. "Dragon tails are the best part."

Damon smiles at his daughter's enthusiasm. "Yes, with all the traditional dragon features. Though we're not as large as some legends would have you believe. My full dragon form is about the size of a small bus, not a cathedral."

"Only a bus?" I tease. "How disappointing."

He looks surprised at my humor, then pleased. "Ember is considerably smaller, of course. About the size of a horse right now. She'll grow as she ages."

"Can I see?" The question slips out before I can stop myself. "I mean, not now, obviously. But sometime?"

Damon and Ember exchange a look I can't quite interpret.

"It's a significant step," Damon says. "Showing our true form to a human."

"I understand," I say quickly. "It was presumptuous of me to ask."

"No," he counters, surprising me. "It's a natural question. And given that you know what we are, it makes sense that you'd want to see. It's just... not something to be taken lightly."

"When the time is right," I suggest, not wanting to push boundaries that clearly matter to them.

"Yes," he agrees, looking relieved. "When the time is right."

Ember yawns widely, revealing teeth that look just slightly sharper than normal.

"Someone's ready for bed," I observe.

"But it's movie night," she protests weakly, even as her eyelids droop. "You promised, Daddy."

"How about a short movie?" Damon suggests, checking his watch. "It's already past your usual bedtime, and you've had quite an exciting day."

She considers this, then nods. "Can we watch 'How to Train Your Dragon'?"

Damon and I both laugh at the irony. "Sure, princess. Go get ready for bed first, and we'll set it up."

As Ember scampers off to change into pajamas and brush her teeth, I begin clearing the pizza boxes. Four large pizzas, and there's barely one slice left. Dragon appetites are no joke.

"Thank you," Damon says as he helps me clean up. "For how you've handled all of this."

"I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not dreaming," I admit. "But if I am, it's certainly the most interesting dream I've ever had."

He smiles, and something in my chest flutters at the sight. When Damon Thorne really smiles, it transforms his entire face, softening the intimidating features into something heart-stoppingly handsome.

"It's not a dream," he assures me. "Though I understand the sentiment. When Jenny first learned what I was, she was convinced she was hallucinating for nearly a week."

The mention of his ex-wife reminds me of something I've been wondering. "Can I ask... was she always afraid? Or did something specific happen?"

His expression clouds slightly. "She accepted what I was, initially.

It was difficult for her, but she loved me enough to try.

We were happy for several years. Then Ember was born, and for a while, everything was perfect.

" He pauses, his hands stilling on the counter.

"When Ember's dragon traits began manifesting around age four, Jenny started to withdraw.

The reality of raising a dragon child… The constant vigilance, the fear of discovery, it was too much for her. "

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "That must have been incredibly painful for both of you."

"For all three of us," he corrects gently. "Jenny loved Ember, very much. She just couldn't reconcile that love with her fear of what Ember is. What I am."

I consider his words before responding. "I think... I think I can understand both sides. Learning dragons exist is overwhelming. Being responsible for keeping that secret while raising a child who could accidentally reveal everything with one emotional moment, that's a tremendous burden."

"It is," he acknowledges. "One I'm asking you to share now."

"The difference is, I came into this with my eyes open," I point out. "Maybe not initially, but I've made my choice knowing what it means."

Those golden eyes seem to look straight through me. "And you're certain about that choice? There would be no shame in changing your mind, Luna. This isn't what you signed up for."

"I signed up to care for Ember," I say firmly. "Finding out she's a dragon doesn't change that. If anything, it makes me more determined to help her navigate this world safely."

Something in his expression shifts, softens. "You're quite remarkable, you know."

Heat rushes to my cheeks at the unexpected compliment. "I'm just doing my job."

"No," he says quietly. "You're doing much more than that."

Before I can respond, Ember races back into the room wearing dragon-patterned pajamas, her damp hair curling wildly around her face.

"Ready!" she announces. "I brushed my teeth extra good so there's no fire hiding in there."

"Is that a concern?" I ask Damon quietly as Ember bounces into the living room to set up the movie.

"Not really," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "But it helps her remember to be careful about controlling her inner flame. We should join her before she comes looking for us," he suggests, his voice neutral.

The living room has been transformed in Ember's brief absence. She's arranged pillows and blankets on the floor in front of the large TV, creating a cozy nest big enough for three.

"I made a dragon den!" she explains proudly. "Luna gets the middle because she's new to dragon stuff and might need extra warmth."

I glance at Damon, wondering if this arrangement makes him uncomfortable, but he merely shrugs with a small smile. "Dragon logic. Hard to argue with it."