Page 8 of Curvy Girl and the Single Dad Dragon (Cedar Falls: Fated Mates #2)

"Dragon logic. Hard to argue with it."

I watch as Luna hesitantly takes her designated spot in the middle of Ember's nest of pillows and blankets. She settles awkwardly, clearly trying to maintain a professional distance despite my daughter's insistence on this intimate arrangement.

"Is this okay?" she asks quietly, looking up at me with those clear hazel eyes.

"It's fine," I assure her, though I'm not entirely convinced myself. After six centuries of boundaries with humans, this level of casual closeness feels foreign. Dangerous, even. "Ember's very particular about her movie night setups."

"Like a real nest?" Luna whispers as I lower myself to sit on her other side, keeping a respectful distance.

I nod. "Dragon instincts. They emerge in different ways."

Ember bounces over with the remote, completely oblivious to the adult tension as she wedges herself between us. "Ready! Luna, have you seen this movie? It's my favorite. The dragons aren't really accurate though."

"I've seen it," Luna confirms with a smile. "And I'm curious to hear what parts aren't accurate."

"Well, for starters," Ember begins seriously, "real dragons don't have those weird bumpy things on their heads, and we can all breathe fire, not just some of us, and—"

"How about we watch the movie first, critique later?" I suggest gently, knowing that once Ember starts analyzing dragon depictions in media, she won’t stop.

"Okay, but I'm keeping a list," she warns, pressing play on the remote.

As the movie begins, I find myself glancing at Luna.

She sits cross-legged, her knee occasionally brushing against my thigh when she shifts position.

Her scent, something floral mingled with the natural sweetness of her skin, is more noticeable in this close proximity.

I remind myself to focus on the film, not on cataloging the subtle changes in her breathing or the way her heartbeat quickens during certain scenes.

Ember provides running commentary despite my earlier suggestion, pointing out everything the filmmakers got wrong about dragons. Luna listens attentively, asking thoughtful questions that delight my daughter.

Twenty minutes into the film, Ember's commentary begins to slow, her excited energy waning as tiredness takes over. By the time Hiccup and Toothless form their tentative friendship on screen, she's slumped against Luna's side, eyes fluttering closed.

"She's fading fast," Luna whispers, glancing down at Ember with a soft expression.

"She's had quite a day," I murmur, watching as my daughter's head slides down to rest in Luna's lap. "Sorry about that. I can move her."

"It's fine," Luna says, gently stroking Ember's dark curls. "She's comfortable."

We watch the rest of the movie in silence, the only sounds Ember's soft breathing and the occasional commentary from Luna about the film.

I find myself watching Luna more than the screen, fascinated by her gentle handling of my daughter, the way she seems so natural with Ember despite the extraordinary circumstances.

When the credits roll, I reach for the remote and turn off the TV, plunging the room into dimness, illuminated only by a single lamp across the room.

"Should we wake her?" Luna asks, still absently stroking Ember's hair.

I shake my head. "I'll carry her up in a bit. She's sleeping soundly now."

Luna nods, seeming content to stay where she is, Ember's head resting in her lap. After a moment of comfortable silence, she speaks again, her voice low in the quiet room.

"So... Romania in the 1380s. That must have been... different."

The corner of my mouth lifts at her diplomatic phrasing. "That's one way to put it. Life was harder then, in many ways. Shorter for humans. Simpler in others."

"Were there more dragons then?"

"Yes," I say, the single word carrying centuries of loss. "Many more. We lived primarily in mountainous regions, the Carpathians, the Alps, the Pyrenees. Remote enough to shift forms without detection, but close enough to human settlements for necessary interaction."

"Necessary interaction?" she questions, raising an eyebrow.

"Trade, primarily. Dragons have always had certain skills valued by humans—metalworking, mainly. Our fire burns hotter than any forge humans could create back then. We could work metals in ways they couldn't match."

"Is that what you did? You were a metalworker?"

I nod. "My father was a master craftsman, renowned for his work with gold and precious gems. I learned the trade from him, carried it through several centuries."

"And now you work construction," she observes, no judgment in her tone, merely curiosity.

"It's practical in this era. The physical labor suits my strength, and it's a nomadic enough profession that moving frequently doesn't raise suspicions.

" I glance down at Ember, peaceful in sleep.

"With her, stability has become more important.

Hence settling in Cedar Falls, taking a permanent position with Blackwood. "

Luna considers this. "How often do you usually move?"

"Every five to ten years, traditionally. Long enough to establish ourselves, not so long that humans notice we don't age normally. With Ember entering school, we'll likely stay here through her elementary years at least."

"And then what? New identities, new town, start over?"

"That's how it's been done for centuries," I confirm. "Modern documentation makes it more complicated, but there are ways."

She falls silent, processing this information. I can almost see her mind working, calculating what this means for her position, for her relationship with Ember.

"You're wondering about your role in this," I observe quietly.

Her eyes meet mine, startled by my perception. "Yes. I mean, I understand this position was always temporary in the grand scheme of things, but..."

"You're concerned about becoming attached to Ember, knowing we'll eventually leave."

She nods, her honesty refreshing. "I already care about her. It's hard not to. And knowing what I know now—how few people she can truly be herself around—it makes the connection feel even more significant."

"It is significant. Which is why I want to be transparent with you. Our timeline here is at least five years, possibly longer. Beyond that, I can't make promises."

"I understand," she says softly, looking down at Ember. "Five years is a long time in a child's life anyway. A lot can change."

"Indeed." I hesitate, then add, "Though I should mention that dragons maintain connections differently than humans. Distance doesn't necessarily mean separation, not for those we consider... important."

"That's good to know."

We lapse into silence again, but it's comfortable rather than awkward. After a few minutes, Luna speaks again.

"Can I ask about something Ember mentioned earlier? The Dragon Wars?"

I sigh, not particularly wanting to delve into the darker aspects of dragon history tonight but recognizing her right to know.

"It's a complicated history, spanning several centuries. The simplest explanation is that dragons, like humans, haven't always been unified. There were factions, disagreements about how to interact with humanity, whether to remain hidden or assert dominance."

"Let me guess—the 'remain hidden' faction won?"

"Eventually," I nod. "Though at great cost. The last major conflict was in the late 1800s. Many dragons died on both sides. Those of us who survived chose to retreat further into secrecy. It's been our way ever since."

"That sounds... lonely," she observes.

"It can be," I admit. "For some more than others. I've been fortunate to have connections within the dragon community, though they're scattered worldwide now."

"And Ember? Will she know other dragons besides you?"

"She already does, though not many her age. There's a small community in the Pacific Northwest we visit occasionally. But you've identified one of our greatest challenges, ensuring she grows up with a sense of belonging while maintaining necessary secrecy."

Luna nods, her fingers still gently stroking Ember's hair. "What about you?" I ask, wanting to shift the focus away from our complicated history. "You mentioned your father passed away recently?"

"Last year," she confirms, a shadow crossing her face. "Heart attack. It was sudden. He was only fifty-eight."

"I'm sorry," I say, genuinely meaning it. Having witnessed countless human lifespans, I'm aware of how brief and precious they are. "Were you close?"

"Very," she smiles sadly. "He's the one who encouraged me to pursue childcare. He said I had a natural gift with children, that I shouldn't waste it. My mother wanted me to go into something more 'practical'—business or healthcare."

"And your mother? You mentioned living with her?"

"Yes, after Dad died. She's... struggling.

They were high school sweethearts, married for thirty-five years.

She doesn't quite know who she is without him.

" Luna's expression grows troubled. "That's partly why I was so eager for this position, especially with the live-in option.

She needs space to figure things out, and I need. .."

"What?" I prompt gently when she trails off.

"Purpose, I guess. A place where I'm needed." Her cheeks flush slightly. "That sounds pathetic, doesn't it?"

"Not at all," I assure her. "Purpose is something everyone seeks, regardless of species or lifespan."

She smiles. "What about siblings? Do you have brothers or sisters hiding their dragon nature somewhere?"

"One brother," I reply. "Sebastian. He lives in Australia now, has for the past century or so. We speak regularly, though not as often as Ember would like. She adores her uncle."

"Australia seems like a good place for dragons," Luna muses. "Lots of open space, relatively low population density in the interior."

"Precisely why he chose it. Plus, Australians are generally unfazed by wildlife oddities. A dragon sighting might be dismissed as just another strange creature in a land full of them."

Luna laughs softly, careful not to disturb Ember. "That's actually quite clever."

"Sebastian has always been strategic," I say with fondness for my brother. "He's also considerably more social than I am, maintains connections throughout the global dragon network."

"And you're not social?" she questions, looking slightly surprised.

"I'm... selective," I correct. "Especially since Ember was born. Protective instincts."

"That makes sense," she nods. "Speaking of protective instincts, should we get her to bed? She's completely out."

I glance at Ember, who hasn't stirred despite our conversation. "Yes, probably best."

I gather my daughter in my arms, cradling her against my chest as I stand. Luna rises as well, gathering scattered pillows and folding blankets.

"I can manage these," she whispers, nodding toward the stairs. "Go ahead."

I carry Ember up to her room, laying her gently on her bed and pulling her covers up around her shoulders.

She sighs in her sleep, clutching her stuffed dragon closer.

For a moment, I simply watch her, marveling as I often do at this perfect, impossible creature—half of me, yet entirely her own person. The greatest treasure of my long life.

When I return downstairs, Luna has restored the living room to order and is standing somewhat awkwardly by the door, as if unsure whether to leave or stay.

"Thank you for your help," I say, joining her. "You've handled an extraordinary day with remarkable composure."

She smiles, a hint of tiredness around her eyes. "It's certainly not how I expected my first day on the job to go."

"Are you sorry it did? Go this way, I mean."

She considers the question seriously, which I appreciate.

"No," she says finally. "Surprised, overwhelmed, still processing—yes to all of those. But not sorry. Ember is special, and not just because she's a dragon. I already care about her. That doesn't change because I learned something unexpected about her."