“Oh, right!” Alyx really didn’t want to wear her old clothes ever again. The stink of smoke would never leave them.
Maybe she should burn them, and with them, all the horrible memories of being trapped underground.
“That shirt,” she said, pointing straight at the gorgeous, slinky shirt she’d seen in the window. “And pants. And we also need to pick up underwear and socks and—”
“And swim wear,” Braeden said in encouragement. “And anything else you want. Let me use my human treasure to make up for how Steele treated you.”
Alyx grinned. That was an invitation she didn’t need to hear twice.
A man who was content to let her go wild when she found herself in her element was pretty rare. She didn’t mind people who just didn’t care as much about fashion as she did. That was only fair, after all. She didn’t care much about football results or fishing or the yoga classes Jen from her office kept inviting her to.
Which didn’t mean that she thought people interested in those things were beneath her. But for some reason, most men she’d dated so far had thought that loving fashion was silly and made her shallow.
Not Braeden, though. Braeden seemed like he genuinely just enjoyed spending time with her. Just like she’d happily go to a football game with him, if that was what he wanted, and have a good time there because she was with him.
Half an hour later, they left the shop in high spirits, Braeden carrying three large bags and an amused smile on his face as he watched her say goodbye to her new friend Cara.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked him, teasingly poking his ribs.
He didn’t even flinch. To be fair, all her fingers had encountered was rock-hard muscle.
“Oh, nothing,” he said innocently. “Just thinking about how you humans are nothing like what I was taught.”
“So? What are we like, then?” She raised her eyebrow at him.
“In there, you looked just like a dragon shifter taking inventory of his hoard.” He gave her an unapologetic grin. “You handle silk and rayon and denim the way we do gold and silver and pearls. When I grew up, I was taught all humans were cold, unfeeling monsters who killed dragons. But in fact, we’re just the same. I like this world a lot better than the one I was taught about.”
“Well, I also like you better than the dragon you used to be. At least, I assume I wouldn’t like past you.” She smiled at him to show she didn't mind his past.
He clearly had a lot of feelings about being a fire dragon. And so had other shifters.
But she’d seen the real him. Even if he was the only good fire dragon in the entire world, that didn’t change the fact that he was a good man.
“Believe me, you wouldn’t,” he said, wincing. “I nearly killed Naomi once—the storm dragon’s mate.”
“But you’ve made up for it by now,” she pointed out. “Liana obviously likes you a lot. Timothy seemed really happy to see that you made it back alive. And they told me that you saved Autumn’s life.”
“But I didn’t destroy Steele.” Braeden raised his head, staring up into the sky as if he feared that the fire dragon would suddenly dive down. “And I know that I have to. The fire chose me. It happened for a reason. He needs to be stopped—and I’m the only one who can do it.”
“Perhaps,” she said, hating the thought of Braeden putting himself into danger.
The worst thing was that she knew that he was right. She’d seen what Steele was capable of. Who else could stand against him?
“Anyway, there’s no need to ruin this day with Steele.” He nodded towards a cluster of small shops before them. “Maybe the chimera will come up with a better plan. For now—how do you feel about ice cream?”
Chapter Twelve: Braeden
Liana called the man who ran the small ice cream parlor a hipster cat shifter.
Braeden still hadn’t figured out what exactly that meant. But he knew that he liked the man, despite his hyperactivity.
Jordan the cat shifter was tall and slim, with a red beard and dark-rimmed glasses. All the ice cream in his shop was handmade, the cream delivered directly from a nearby farm on the mainland. All ingredients were organically sourced and fair trade, a board in his shop proudly proclaimed.
Braeden had once asked Jordan what exactly that meant, and an hour later, his head had been hurting when Jordan was still lecturing him about some strange magic called genetic engineering.
Braeden had no intention of ever asking again, but Jordan’s ice cream was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted in his life, and that was all that mattered.
Every day, Jordan prepared only a small handful of flavors, the selection changing every day. Which was a good reason to come back every day.