"I didn't say unguarded. I said not locked away. There is a difference."
"The difference can get you killed."
"So can ignorance. So can panic. So can trusting a man who thinks explaining means growling two sentences and expecting everyone to clap."
His jaw tightened. "Nice."
"Term two," I continued, "my bakery matters. Sweet Mercy is not some little human hobby you get to dismiss because you have a castle and a skyscraper. It is my business, my name, my bills, my life. It is exposed."
"Then protect it."
"I can buy you another bakery."
The look I gave him should have peeled paint. He paused, then slowly, like the words had to be dragged from a dark cave, he said, "That was the wrong answer."
"Yes, Dragon Lord, it was."
Derek muttered, "Progress."
"Term three," I said, "Derek, Cindy, and Melon get protection. Real protection. Not being threatened, not being watched like prisoners, not being snatched into black cars every time a dragon sneezes."
Malrek said nothing.
"Term four." I raised my ringed hand. "This does not give you husband privileges."
His eyes darkened. There it was. Heat. Not fire, not exactly. Something lower. Dirtier. The kind of look that could make a woman forget common sense if she wasn't careful.
I forced my voice steady. "No touching unless I allow it. No kissing unless I want it. No bed. No [ __ ]. No dragon law says. That ring is not a consent form. Your dick does not get a crown by association."
Moses made a strangled sound. Derek turned away like he wanted to bleach his ears.
Malrek did not laugh. He stepped closer. Just one step, but my whole body felt it.
"If I wanted to take you," he said quietly, "you would already be in my bed."
The air turned sharp. Derek moved. Moses caught his arm. I held Malrek's gaze even though my stomach twisted.
"Careful," I said. "That sounded like a threat."
"It was a fact."
[snorts] "Facts can still make you sound like an [ __ ]."
His nostrils flared. "I do not force unwilling women."
"Congratulations. That is the floor, not the ceiling."
Something flickered in his face. I remembered Julius saying that. No, I hadn't been there. Maybe common sense had finally arrived wearing different shoes. Malrek looked irritated by the concept. Good. Let him be irritated. Growth was probably uncomfortable when you were ancient and used to everyone bowing before you finished a sentence.
"Among dragons," he said, "a claim carries rights."
"Among Belinda, it carries conditions. If you don't like them, take it up with customer service."
"There is no customer service for this."
"Then suffer."
Moses definitely smiled that time. Malachi's gaze moved to him. The smile vanished.
"Term five," I said. "Truth. No more royal dragon nonsense. No vague warnings. No half answers. I want to know who wants me dead. Why that woman Sheba looked at me like I stole her throne. And what happens if I refuse whatever final binding everyone keeps whispering about?"
Malachi went still. Ah. There it was. The part he didn't want to discuss.
"Sheba," he said at last, "is the daughter of the Ember house. Her clan is old, wealthy, and loud."
"Sounds annoying."
"She allowed the court to believe she would become my queen."
"Allowed?" His mouth hardened. "Encouraged."
"And did you?"
"No."
The answer came fast, brutal, certain. Something in my chest loosened before I could stop it. Annoying.
"Why didn't you correct people?" I asked.
"Because her lie was useful. It kept other clans from offering daughters. It kept marriage petitions away from me."
I stared at him. "So you let her play pretend because it saved you paperwork?"
"Yes."
"That is both efficient and emotionally stupid."
"I did not require emotion."
"No, clearly you required a bakery accident."
His gaze dropped to my mouth. The furnace heat became nothing compared to the sudden warmth crawling through me. He moved closer again. This time, I did not step back. I should have, but he smelled like smoke, leather, and something darkly sweet beneath it. His hair fell around his face, and the scale marks along his cheek caught the firelight like hammered gold. He was terrifying. He was too much. He was the kind of man a woman with sense crossed the street to avoid. Apparently, my sense had taken a lunch break.
"Do you know what it does to a dragon?" he said, voice low. "To hear another speak death over his bride?"
My breath caught. "I am not asking as your bride."
"No." His eyes burned. "You are asking as you."
That hit harder than it should have. His hand lifted, slow enough that I could move away. I didn't. His fingers touched the air beside my wrist before settling against my skin. Careful. So careful it made my throat tighten. His thumb brushed near the gold ring, not touching it directly, and the band warmed like it recognized him.
My body betrayed me with one soft shiver. Malachi saw it. Of course he did. His gaze sharpened, dropping to my mouth again.
"Belinda."
My name in his voice was a problem. A big one. The kind with muscles, fire, and a dick that probably came with its own warning label. He leaned down. Not all the way. Just enough for the air between us to thin. Just enough that I could see the faint gold flecks moving in his eyes. Just enough that one reckless inch would put his mouth on mine.
Derek made a sound. Moses murmured, "Let her decide."