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The bracelet she was wearing rather suddenly began to glow, and she clamped her opposite hand over it in alarm as the twin to it on the non-reactive young man suddenly did the same.

Be-jeweled woman’s scowl vanished into astonishment as she looked from Breck to the two oddly-behaving bracelets. “This is amazing!” she said, clapping her hands in excitement. “This is wonderful! I knew it was dragon magic!”

Breck was still staring at the bride as his brain slowly caught up with the rest of him.

She was the bride.

His mate was the bride.

With effort, she jerked her gaze away from his and slid into her seat next to the man with the matching bracelet. Breck could not dredge up the same amount of self-control and continued to gaze at her helplessly as the depth of the disaster began to come clear in his hazed mind.

“Forget the wine,” her mother was saying imperiously. “A bottle of your finest champagne. No! Just water for her! Just in case! Does it mean you’re — oh, I can’t even say it. But it’s just fine, no one will blame you for getting a head start, don’t look so mortified.”

Breck forced himself to look somewhere — anywhere — else.

The fourth member of their party, a big, weaselly man with dark blonde hair, was eyeing him suspiciously.

“Champagne,” the mother was saying imperiously, and Breck stared at her for a moment without comprehending.

“Of course,” he finally was able to say, and without further courtesy, he fled.

Chapter 11

Darla was dizzy, and her mother’s effervescent words washed over her like surf.

Breck was here, and her world was upside down.

She was want and wanton and wanted.

And she couldn’t have any of it.

Only Liam’s hand anchored her. Liam’s hand and the heat of the bracelet on her wrist that seemed to be gleefully and shamelessly proclaiming her desire, to her mother’s amusement and Eugene’s distasteful diversion.

Then her mate was gone, without so much as a word to her.

He didn’t have to say anything.

She knew from his eyes alone that he craved her the same bone-deep way that she desired him.

He must know now that they couldn’t be together. She was sitting next to her fiance wearing a ridiculous sparkling sash that proclaimed that she was the bride.

And her mother was going on and on about sex.

Liam was doing his level best to maintain the conversation, utterly cool and collected, as Darla floundered trying to find her mental footing again now that proximity to her mate wasn’t confusing all of her synapses.

“Oh, look how we’ve embarrassed Darla,” her mother crowed. “Sweetheart, you’re going to be a married woman. There’s no shame in your desires.”

“None at all,” Eugene agreed with a smirk that made Darla want to crawl under the table.

“Can we talk about something else?” Darla asked plaintively. She was grateful to see that her bracelet had finally stopped glowing. Liam’s had dimmed in unison.

“There are things you should know about being pregnant,” her mother said, managing to find a topic more appalling. “Maybe the bracelets have picked up on the fact that you’re ovulating.”

“I’m sure that’s also a topic better saved for a more intimate setting,” Liam said firmly, and Darla could have kissed him.

Fortunately, their food was served at that moment, and it made Darla’s heart fall a little that it was a strange woman, not Breck, who delivered their artfully composed plates of food.

It was better that way, she told herself.


Tags: Zoe Chant Shifting Sands Resort Fantasy