Page 50 of When the Baker Met the Dragon

I slide my gaze sideways to see if Cyrus is watching. He is, and smoke is pouring from his nostrils. Twin lioness shifters are kissing his cheeks, but he doesn’t noticeably react to them. No, he is just staring at me with black smoke twisting out of his nose.

I close my eyes and finish the kiss, pulling away.

Why would Cyrus be fuming? He started this competition.

I try to ignore him and work my way through my line. Some folks are sweet and just give me a peck on the cheek, others—like Grumlin the tavern keeper’s cousin, Maeve—kiss me thoroughly after I convince them I’m all right with it.

Betilda comes rushing toward our booths, two long sheets of parchment in her hands.

“You’re both doing so well! We are going to hit our goal in no time.”

She pins a sheet on each of our booths. They show a series of hatch marks and a line. My marks are nearly at the top, which is marked with a star. Cyrus’s aren’t far behind.

“I’m going to beat you,” I say to Cyrus over the crowd, the music, and the young ones running about.

“Not a chance!” he calls back. His grin is vicious and my body melts at the sight of it.

We kiss more folks that come through our lines, our gazes drawn toward each other like magnets. Betilda keeps us supplied with iced cakes and glasses of very cold ale. It’s fun, but there is also a side of me that feels incredibly odd. Hot. Frustrated. This all just feels so strange.

I’m five marks from the star on my parchment when Delixian returns.

“Back so soon?” I say.

“If you are as happy to see me as I am you. If not, I can go.”

I’m not sure I am as excited to see him, but he is nice. “Of course, I am.”

He hitches a hip to the table and lifts my chin with one blue finger. He smiles and studies my face before pressing a kiss to my lips. I pull away and glance toward Cyrus.

Cyrus gives Zemy a good kiss, bracing the goat shifter up against his body. Cyrus never did take his seat again.

Delixian moans into my mouth, and his tongue delves farther. I grip his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around me. Delixian notices my line is currently lagging due to Argos, who is setting up what looks like another experiment and drawing most folks’ attention. Delixian takes the opportunity to hold me longer and whisper sweet things in my ear.

Zemy is gone now and Cyrus is kissing Plum, the tailor. The water sprite’s wings sparkle and flutter as Cyrus smoothes a hand over her blue hair.

I’m on fire. But I can’t let him get to me.

“Kaya, did you hear me?” Delixian cups my face and looks into my eyes.

“Ah, no. Sorry.”

“Let me help you focus on your goal,” he says, a teasing note in his voice.

I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss Delixian back. Our hips meet, and I can tell that the healer is getting rather more aroused than he should be at a little festival kissing booth. That makes two of us, but it’s not him that I’m worked up about.

Heat rises around me. More than just the heat of my body… A crackling sound has me opening my eyes. There are flames everywhere. It dissipates quickly, and if the damage wasn’t obvious, I’d have thought I imagined it. The booth is nothing but a charred husk. My wicker chair is a pile of charcoal. The ground around me is scorched and Delixian.

Delixian is grimacing and shaking out his hand. Blisters show along his palm. “Cyrus, I’m guessing you did this?”

Cyrus exhales roughly, smoke pouring from his mouth. “Sorry.”

After throwing a quiet curse Cyrus’s way, Delixian asks one of the servers for one of the injury kits he brought to the festival, and they walk off to retrieve it.

I’m not so foolish that I can’t see why Cyrus’s fire magic rose up. He’s jealous. Of me. But he doesn’t actually want me as a partner; he isn’t going to settle down. We both know it. And this behavior of his isn’t fair. He can’t have it both ways.

Now, I’m mad. He ruined Betilda’s booth and caught Delixian on fire.

I storm over to him and poke him in the chest with my forefinger.