Pyro knew immediately he’d gotten it wrong.

Amber had told him to dress “not too well” and to “bring alcohol,” which, from his past experience with humans, meant not to intimidate with suits or obvious displays of money or education.

But the shocked looks on the face of the older male who opened the door, the older female peeking down the hall behind him, and the abject horror on Amy’s face told him he’d erred the wrong way.

“I’m sorry?” the older male said.

The female gripped Amy’s upper arm. “This is the person you were talking about?”

Amy’s expression squeezed. “Ah. Yes. I was just explaining…”

His heart hardened into a solid meteor.

No. She wasn’t. Clearly.

He was unwelcome. Unwanted. And definitely unsuitable.

“I’m sorry?” the older male repeated.

“Uh, Dad—”

“Let him in, Barry,” the older female said, pulling him back to open the door for Pyro. “This is Amy’s important person. I’m Fiona. Won’t you stay for dinner?”

He’d come this far. Pyro shouldered his way in and followed them to their dining room.

And he was thirsty from the trip back from Thailand, so he accepted two glasses of wine.

Amy stared in horror. Her father stared in disdain. And her mother clipped her words with barely suppressed aggression.

“So, you’re Amy’s important person.” Fiona piled ham, potatoes, and corn on a plate and thumped it in front of her father. “Amy was just telling us about you. Where did you meet?”

Amy put up her hand. “Um, I’m really sorry, but Pyro can’t stay for dinner.”

“Oh, but he’s right here.”

“But he’s leaving.” She pleaded with him silently to leave.

And he got angry.

Furious.

This was the truth. Right here. She’d married him to try him out. It didn’t matter how he’d changed. That he’d spent the last days trying to put things right and be responsible. She’d never see him as a good husband. Her parents never would either. He wasn’t welcome. He was a low caste dragon bastard and he always would be.

He rested his elbows on the table and grinned at the humans with all his teeth. “We met at a bar.”

Amy closed her eyes with a sinking expression.

“I see.” Her mother seated herself and picked up her silverware. If she breathed on glass, it would frost over. “You spend a lot of time in bars I’m guessing. Barry, grace.”

“A bar?” her father repeated, not picking up his wife’s cue. “But Amy doesn’t drink.”

“Amy was stalking me,” Pyro explained.

Her mother’s eyes grew colder. “Hmm.”

Her father was just confused. “Amy, what were you doing in a bar?”

She faced him. Sadness gave way to worry. “It’s complicated.”

“She was in there for days, following my every move. Couldn’t tear her eyes off me.”

“You are quite a sight,” her mother said. “Barry. Grace.”

Her father gave thanks for the food, and the family picked up their forks as if by rote and began cutting their food into pieces.

Pyro drained his glass.

“Another?” her mother asked shortly, lifting the bottle.

“Mom—”

“Sure.” He held out his glass, and her mother poured.

He was so angry that he felt like flipping the table. Watching their faces when he lost control. But this was upsetting to Amy enough, clearly. And he wanted to punish her.

She’d made him think that she cared. That she loved him. That she wanted to be with him. Not a dragon. Not an alien. Him.

But that was clearly a lie.

Getting his hopes up made him the fool.

He drained the glass, barely tasting its contents.

Her mother minced her ham into tiny pieces. “Then you had a first date.”

“I’ll never forget our first date.” He fixed on Amy. “The adorable look on your face when we got caught breaking into my rival’s warehouse.”

“Breaking in!” Her father’s voice shook.

She placed a calming hand on his. “Dad, it’s not what you think.”

“What am I supposed to think?” he asked his daughter stiffly.

Now was the time for her to be strong. To explain she had married Pyro and was standing beside him. That, sure, he’d pushed in here and done everything wrong but that she wanted him anyway and they were making a life together.

She bit her lip and averted her eyes.

Silence.

Burning rivulets traveled up his arms toward his heart like the dots of flames that sometimes crackled off enraged females. He couldn’t spew fire. Not without chewing handfuls of brimstone. But his scales twitched like they were going to help him try.

Her father turned to Pyro. “What are your intentions toward our daughter?”

He shrugged. “Now that we’re married, we both got what we wanted.”

Amy glared like she was going to murder him herself. But so what? He was only telling the truth.

Her mother dropped her fork. It made a sharp clattering sound on the plate.

Her father blinked. “Married?”

“Amy!” Her mother’s voice hushed with anger. “How could you?”

Amy sucked in a huge breath, turned away from him resolutely, and faced her parents. “I can explain.”

His fury grew and grew. He almost couldn’t hear himself. “You’re surprised.”

They focused on him. The clear bad guy.

He raised his palms. “She didn’t want you there. Even though I offered—”

“Stop.” Amy turned to him with irritation. “Just stop. Okay?”

Her father shook his head as though erasing the last announcement from his mind and focused on what he was thinking before. “I do not believe your intentions are honorable.”

“My intentions—”

Her mother’s sharp tone cut through everyone. She lasered on Amy. “When did you get married?”

Amy swallowed. “Saturday.”

“Technically, Sunday.” He checked his empty glass.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No! It just … happened.”

“I see. Where did it ‘just happen’?”

“Vegas.” He poured himself another.

“Vegas!” Both her parents were completely shocked.

“But that’s okay.” He set the empty wine bottle on the table and lifted his glass in a gesture of cheers. “I just got out of jail tonight and I wanted to meet you and celebrate.”

Her parents stared at him like he had three heads.

He had burned this marriage down. To the ground. Better now, when he was still full of doubts, than after Amy’s false promises had lulled him into a contented, fulfilled faith. He drained this last of the wine in one long gulp.

Bouncing her flat palms on the table, Amy nailed him with a look that brooked no disagreement. “Can I talk to you outside, please?”

He stood, leaving the empty glass on the table, and shouldered on his leather jacket. To her shell-shocked parents, he waved. “Nice to meet you.”

They didn’t respond.

Amy grabbed his arm and yanked him out the front door. She pushed him around the winding concrete walkway, through neatly whacked shrubs, stopping outside the carport.

He pointed at her white socks. “You forgot your shoes.”

She crossed her arms. “Was that fun?”

Fury flared. “You tell me.”

“You just sabotaged any chance of my parents ever thinking good things about you.”

“Come on. Like there was ever any chance—”

“This is exactly the reason I asked you not to come. You were destructive and mean. Why did you hurt me like this?”

She was hurt? She was hurt?

Sure, her voice wobbled and her chin trembled like she was holding in her tears. And that tore him up inside.

He focused on the point. “I’m the last guy they’d ever accept for your husband. And be honest. They don’t even know I’m not human.”

“I was getting to that.”

“Sure you were.”

“Well, now we’ll never know will we?” Her question ended in a sob. She covered her trembling lips and squeezed her eyes closed.

Dammit.

“Amy…” He reached for her. To soothe her pain. Because even at the height of his anger, she got under his chest plate and crushed his heart. That power no other woman possessed. And that’s why he was so guarded against her abusing it.

She held up her hand to stop him.

He flexed his fingers on air. He ought to be used to rejection by now. But by her, especially, it hurt more than any ordinary pain.

She sucked in a trembling breath and faced him again. “You promised to make my fantasies come true but you can’t even be civil for a single dinner.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“I thought you wanted to make a real effort.”

“I did.”

“That I was different from your other girls.”

“You are.”

“Including, by the way, your first wife.” She waved her hand at her face as though trying to dry her unshed tears and snapped out an accusation. “Who I didn’t even know existed.”

That was his fault too? Forget it. “Yeah, there’s a lot we don’t know about each other. But at least I was willing to try.”

“I tried!”

“No. All the time you were just saying no. No to meeting your parents, no to trusting me, no to my family. No, no, no.”

“That’s because—”

“The truth is you saw an image of me in that glossy magazine and got these dragon-shaped stars in your eyes. The real me will never measure up. I’m not the reality TV guy. I’m not even a guy.”

“That’s not— Well, the last part’s true, but the other part—”

“What did you think you were getting when you married me?”

Her mouth opened and closed.

“Because from here, it looks like you just wanted to screw. Which I offered you. Even without getting married.”

She rubbed her bare arms, frowning, and glanced over her shoulder back at the house.

It shouldn’t hurt this much. “No response, huh?”

“There’s clearly a lot…” She shook her head and faced him. “Look, I have to go.”

She had more she wanted to say? He was desperate. He wanted one of those things to be, Yes, I wanted more than a screw. I wanted you.

How desperate. He made himself sick.

Still, he said, “I’ll come by later.”

“No!” She held up both hands. “Tonight’s bad.”

“Then—”

“This week is bad. It’s all bad. Seeing you is the last thing I want to do.”

That cold shard in his chest was clearly the knife she’d just thrust between the partitions of his heart. He couldn’t get his breath. A dull ringing sounded in his ears.

“I don’t have time,” she was saying. “Not with—”

“Fine.” He stepped back from her and let the fury wash over him. His scales burst out of his skin like a firestorm. Clothes shredding, his limbs elongated and stretched, and he shoved off the ground, streaking for the sky. Flying straight for that strange yellow sun on the horizon.

When he smashed into it and disappeared in a flare, it couldn’t possibly hurt as much as the agony right now in his heart.