I staggered back. The ring on my finger flared. Gold light snapped around my hand and crawled up my wrist like fire with manners.
"What the [ __ ]?" I breathed.
Kieran lunged. I did not see Malachi move. [snorts] One second the dragon man was coming for me. The next, Malachi had him by the throat and slammed him into the side of a parked black car hard enough to cave the door in. Glass exploded. The crowd scattered back, but nobody ran. Maybe dragons did not run. Maybe they were too proud. Maybe they were just used to blood before breakfast.
Kieran clawed at Malachi's arm. Flames spilled from his mouth, dark and hungry. Malachi leaned close. White fire lit behind his teeth.
My whole body knew fear then. Not worry, not panic, fear. Ancient bone-deep animal fear. The fire that rolled from Malachi was not like flame from my ovens. It was alive. It did not dance. It hunted.
Kieran choked. The white fire touched his throat. He screamed. I should have looked away. I did not. The skin there blackened in a clean line like the fire was writing a warning.
Malachi's voice dropped into something rougher than human. "You threatened my bride."
Kieran's feet kicked against the ruined car.
"Malachi," I said.
He did not look at me. The grip tightened.
"Malachi."
Still nothing.
I stepped closer even though every bit of sense I had was begging me not to. Heat pressed against my face. The ring burned brighter, shielding me from the worst of it. I reached for his sleeve. The second my fingers touched him, his head turned. His eyes were no longer just gold. They were molten.
"Don't kill him in front of my bakery," I said, voice shaking. "That is terrible for business."
For one wild second I thought he might not understand. Then the white fire vanished. Kieran dropped to the ground gagging, one hand clamped over his burned throat.
Malachi stared at me. "You object because of business?"
"I object because murder is generally frowned upon, yes. But also I just mopped."
Derek made a strangled sound behind me. Cindy whispered, "She's insane."
Malachi's gaze searched my face like he was trying to solve me and failing. Good. I was failing, too. He turned to the crowd.
"Let this be carried to every clan. Belinda is under my fire. Any dragon who comes for her will not be challenged." His voice deepened. "They will be eaten."
Nobody laughed. Not even me.
Kieran was dragged away by two silent men, blood and smoke trailing behind him. I looked at the damaged car, the kneeling crowd, my ring, then Malachi.
"My bakery," I said. "My employees, my cousin. They are not part of whatever this is."
"They are now."
"No."
"Yes."
I stepped close enough to poke one finger into his chest. It was like poking a wall that did push-ups.
"Listen to me, dragon lord. You may have melted your little coin onto my hand, but you do not get to rearrange my entire life without explaining every damn piece of it."
His gaze dropped to my finger on his chest. Possession flickered again. Then something else. Interest.
"You are not afraid enough," he said.
"Oh, I am terrified." I looked him dead in the eye. "I just have bills."
For the first time Malachi's mouth almost curved. Then his expression hardened as a shadow passed over the street. I looked up. Something enormous moved above the rooftops. Wings. Not one pair. Several.
Cindy whispered, "Nope."
Derek said, "Belinda, get inside."
Malachi's hand closed around mine. Firm. Hot. Unyielding. This time the ring did not burn. It answered him. Gold light pulsed between our joint hands.
"The attack was a warning," he said. "The next one will be worse."
I swallowed, staring at the sky as another winged shadow crossed the morning sun.
"So," I said, because humor was apparently the last thing standing between me and a nervous breakdown, "do queens get coffee before the assassination attempts, or is that extra?"
Malric looked down at me. "You will come with me now."
I looked at Sweet Mercy behind me. My cracked sign, my tired ovens, my whole life smelling like sugar, butter, and survival. Then I looked at the dragons gathering above my roof. And for the first time since that cursed coin touched my hand, I understood one thing clearly. This was not a misunderstanding anymore. This was war. And somehow I was the wedding cake in the middle of it.
Malric's point of view
Humans built their world out of breakable things. Glass doors, thin walls, painted signs. Cars that dented when a dragon's body struck them. Little locks they trusted with their lives.
Belinda trusted none of it. She sat in the back of my vehicle with her arms folded, her ringed hand tucked beneath one elbow like she thought hiding it could undo the claim. Her cousin sat beside her, still holding that pathetic tire iron. The other woman, Cindy, had not stopped whispering prayers, curses, and questions into her phone. The young one they called Melon had arrived during the confusion and now clutched a box of pastries to his chest as if sugar could save him.
Belinda looked out the window as we left her bakery behind. I watched her reflection. She was furious. Very well. Fear alone made humans stupid. Anger kept them breathing.
"You said I'm coming with you," she said, not looking at me. "You did not say my people were being abducted, too."
"They are attached to you."
"They work for me. That is not the same thing as being attached."
"The dragon who threatened you knew your face by sunrise. Others will know their faces by noon. If they remain unguarded, they become leverage."
Derek leaned forward. "You touch one hair on her head..."
I turned my eyes to him. He stopped speaking.
Belinda snapped, "Do not dragon eye my cousin."
"Dragon eye? You know exactly what I mean."
I did not, but this was not the time to ask. Her scent filled the vehicle despite the blood and smoke on my clothes. Brown sugar, butter, adrenaline, warm skin. Fear buried under stubbornness. It irritated me that I noticed every part of her. It irritated me more that my body responded as if the claim had been a deliberate choice instead of a political necessity wrapped in accident.
My dick had wanted her from the moment she lifted that bread knife at me. That was simple. Lust was simple. A body knew what it wanted, and mine had taken queens, concubines, warriors, widows, and liars across centuries without needing one single lesson in tenderness.
But Belinda had put her small hand on my sleeve while white fire lived in my throat. And I had stopped. That was not simple. That was dangerous.
The aerie rose above the oldest part of the city, hidden behind human banks, luxury towers, and a church that had not held a real priest in 60 years. To human eyes, it was only black glass and private elevators. To dragon eyes, it was a fortress carved upward into the sky, veiled in heat shimmer and oath fire.