Chapter Ten
Cassandra laughed, and her voice was music to Silas’s ears. “Scenic route. I like the sound of that.”
He shook his head at himself but drove on. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed. And really, they did have a little time for dinner before the event truly kicked off. All he needed to do was show up at some point, shake a few hands, speak a few words. That didn’t mean he had to spend the entire evening there.
The smooth roll of tires over asphalt changed to a rumble as he turned onto the side road to Kanaha Beach Park. Silas leaned forward, as excited as a kid at Christmas. Would the food truck be there, or would this whole detour expose what a lost cause he was?
The sun glinted off a metal surface ahead, and his dragon cheered inside.
“There it is,” he said, casual as can be.
“Jenny’s Hawaiian Mixed Plate?” Cassandra asked a little skeptically.
He nodded. “They have the best poke bowl on Maui.” Then he rushed to add, “At least, according to Boone.”
Cassandra laughed. “So you hardly ever come here, right?”
She looked right at him, and he grinned. In truth, he rarely ate at Jenny’s. Somehow, he never found the time.
You have to make time, his dragon said.
Which, he supposed, was exactly what he’d just done.
He parked the Mercedes between a dented pickup and a decades-old green Nissan with a surfboard on the roof. Then he stepped from the car to help Cassandra out. The minute she stood, she linked her arm through his and smiled. They made quite the sight — what with him in his tux, Cassandra in her stylish dress, both looking spiffed up enough for a red-carpet reception in Hollywood even though Jenny’s was a bare-feet-in-the-sand kind of place. But Silas didn’t care what he looked like. He cared what he felt like.
I feel good, his dragon murmured. Really good.
So he strode right up to Jenny’s food truck and nodded to the Asian woman at the counter. “Two poke bowls, please.”
The woman didn’t even bat an eye at her overdressed customers. “Drinks?”
“What do you recommend?” Cassandra asked.
He nearly laughed, picturing her fingers drifting over a wine list.
“The guava-papaya iced tea sounds good. If you can handle that stiff a drink,” he joked.
Cassandra nodded firmly. “Bet your ass, I can.” She turned to the woman in the truck, holding her fingers up. “Make it two, please.”
And so it was that, instead of stepping into the midst of a stiff and stuffy reception at the Maui Arts and Cultural Center, Silas found himself swinging a leg over the bench of a picnic table in the sand. Cassandra wiggled into the narrow slot and took a seat by his side.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, looking at the ocean.
Beautiful, his dragon agreed, peeking at her.
His nostrils flared, picking out her lavender-dandelion fragrance from the background scents of the ocean and beach. Salt air and pohuehue were everyday experiences on Maui, where Cassandra stood out like an exotic flower.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
Their eyes met for an instant before jerking apart. Their legs were nearly close enough to touch, and he could feel her heat at his side.
“So, ready to dig in?” she asked.
He poked at his Styrofoam bowl with his plastic fork and frowned. “The ladies of the Dunes, Wetlands, and Coastline Trust would lynch me if they saw this.”
Cassandra patted his hand, setting heated sparks through his veins. “Maybe every once in a while, you’re allowed.” She stabbed her fork into her dish. “What is this exactly?”
“Poke bowl. Marinated fish. It’s a traditional Hawaiian dish.”
Their legs brushed under the table, but Cassandra didn’t pull away. In fact, she kept hers nudged up against his.
Nice, his dragon hummed, filling his mind with all kinds of inappropriate images — like her bare leg, winding around his. A horizontal leg, with both of them lying down…
He cleared his throat and took a hasty swig of his iced tea.
“Well, then,” Cassandra said. “I guess I have to try it.”
His mouth went dry just from the sight of her bringing a forkful to her mouth. He loved seeing her let her guard down. Being a normal woman and treating him like a normal man, with none of the shifter/witch/Spirit Stone complications that had clouded his world for the past week.
Cassandra held her fork in her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, making a little groaning sound. “This is so good.”
Silas scuffed his leather shoes in the sand and clutched his cold glass, desperately fighting off a hard-on.
Cassandra was on her third forkful by the time he tried his first. When he did, he closed his eyes too. He’d forgotten how good food truck meals could be. And he’d never imagined how temptingly sensual it could be, simply watching a woman eat.
Their elbows touched, and the heat of her thigh warmed his. Her scent seemed to wrap even closer, weaving around his body.
“Not bad,” he murmured, waging a losing battle to focus on the food.
Cassandra pointed her fork toward the line of breakers rolling over Maui’s windward shore. The sky was a rich pink, the beach practically glowing in the slanting evening light. Somewhere behind them, the sun was setting on Maui’s West side.
“Not bad?” She snorted. “I’d say it’s pretty damn good. Good food. Good view.” She paused as if weighing up her words and finally added, “Good company.”
It was almost an afterthought, and she spoke so quietly, he nearly missed it.
“Good company,” he agreed.
He turned to look at her, and when their eyes locked, the sunset didn’t matter any more. Neither did the crashing breakers or the rice on his fork. Nothing seemed to matter except her.
Beautiful, his dragon breathed, staring into her eyes.
Rich, brown eyes that shone and sparked. His heart thumped a little harder, and he clamped down hard on his glass. Her eyes dropped to his lips, and he held his breath.
Kiss me, his dragon whispered, practically begging Cassandra. Please.
She leaned a tiny bit closer, and his pulse skipped. The kiss in the library had been the best of his life, and this was sure to be—
Bang! The lid of a pot slammed inside the food truck, and Jenny yelled out.
“Last call!”
They shot apart as fast as a couple of teens caught in the act, and Cassandra’s face went pink. Silas could feel his cheeks heat. But hell, even that was nice. When was the last time he’d felt so alive?
Cassandra looked at him — really looked — and her lips twitched. “Oh, what the heck.” And a second later, she kissed him.
A kiss that was somewhere between peck on the lips and quick smooch, but it set him on fire. He hung on to it, drawing out the joy as long as he could. He was just sliding a hand up her arm when she broke away.
“Nice,” she whispered, two inches away from his lips.
He dreamed of tugging her back for another one. Of her nuzzling his ear, whispering all kinds of dirty things. Of holding her much closer and much tighter and—
Cassandra leaned back, nodded in satisfaction, and raised her glass in a toast.
“To…” she started then trailed off, stuck.
To stolen kisses, his dragon filled in. To destined mates.
“To back roads and scenic routes,” he suggested instead.
Cassandra’s smile stretched. “To back roads, scenic routes, and lunch truck meals. Thanks for bringing me here.”
“Thanks for coming,” he murmured.
Cassandra went back to her poke bowl, and he did too, sneaking peeks at her. He wouldn’t have minded another kiss — a lot more kisses, actually — but this was nice too. Just sitting beside her, feeling like a normal couple. Getting to know her better, and best of all, knowing she was interested in him. He yearned for more — more time together. More dinners at food trucks. More sunsets.
Unfortunately, time was slipping away from him, the real world closing back in. Cassandra hunted down the last grain of rice in her bowl and licked her lips. She swigged down the rest of her iced tea then grasped his wrist and turned it so she could see the time.
“Damn.” She sighed. “Time to go?”
He didn’t want to look at the watch but, yes, it was time to go. But he got to leave with Cassandra and stay with her for the rest of the night.
The rest of the night, his dragon purred.
The greedy bastard. Because Silas hadn’t been thinking that far into the night.
Ten minutes later, he pulled the car up to the valet parking at the Arts and Cultural Center and handed the keys to the attendant.
“I guess there is one advantage to arriving late. No line for parking,” he tried.
“We’re fashionably late,” Cassandra decided. “This way?”
He grinned. It was supposed to be him showing her the way, not her bolstering him through an unpleasant duty. So he rolled his shoulders, hooked his elbow firmly around hers, and strode toward the entrance, ready to play his role.
A camera flash exploded from the left followed by another from the right, capturing the two of them. Silas groaned inwardly. That picture was sure to make the society pages the next day. Was Cassandra really okay with that?
She didn’t waver in the slightest. In fact, she smiled like a champ and strode along as if she’d walked red carpets a hundred times before. She did whisper out of the corner of her mouth, though.
“Do you always get this kind of reception?”
Another flash blitzed. “Mr. Llewellyn! This way, please!”
“Mr. Llewellyn!” another man called.
Silas walked straight ahead, tightening his squeeze on her arm a little bit. “Just ignore them,” he whispered. “This happens all the time.”
“Sure,” she chirped. “Happens all the time.”
“Mr. Llewellyn, what’s your favorite charity here?” a reporter asked.
“Mr. Llewellyn, who is the lovely woman tonight?”
He coughed into his hand, hiding a growl.
None of anybody’s business except mine. His inner beast emphasized the last word then repeated it a few times. Mine. Mine. Mine!
“Mr. Llewellyn, what do you have to say about the proposed development on the west side?”
That one stopped him cold.
“If that proposal is a legitimate one, I can assure you that I will fight it to my dying breath.” He glared.
The reporter looked a little taken aback, the poor man. Clearly, he had no idea of the evil forces behind that proposal.
Cassandra touched Silas’s arm, and the rage abated as quickly as it had come.
When they reached the top stair, she exhaled. “Whew. Quite the gauntlet.”
He shook his head and motioned ahead. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
Getting past the reporters was one thing. Surviving the shark tank of the event itself was another.
“Not quite what I expected,” Cassandra murmured, looking over the scene.
Silas grinned. “It’s a gala for the Coalition of Maui charities, but the event is organized by the animal rescue group, so…” He motioned over the crowd.
A three-legged Chihuahua snarled at a German Shepherd three times its size, while its owner strained at its leash. “Down, Apollo!”
The Chihuahua bounced like a bunny, but the second it sniffed Silas, the little spitfire backed down, as most dogs did.
That’s right, little guy. I’m the boss here, his dragon growled.
A yellow parrot squawked from a woman’s shoulder, whistling and making kissing sounds.
“Fortune! We’re in public!” the woman hissed.
“Cute name,” Cassandra whispered.
Some of the pets were groomed, some scrappy. Others were dressed for the occasion, like the Jack Russell terrier sporting a fox stole. When a police siren sounded in the distance, a pair of Alaskan Malamutes began to howl.
“Olaf! Elsa! Quiet down!” the owner admonished.
“How exactly did you decide to support these charities?” Cassandra asked.
He motioned around. “The owner of the estate let us decide, so the guys voted.”
She chuckled. “And who exactly owns the estate?”
“A very private man.”
“So I’ve gathered. My question was, who is he?”
He pointed to a waiter. “Would you like some hors d’oeuvres?”
“You’re a master of avoiding questions, aren’t you?”
“The shrimp looks good…”
She laughed, and thank goodness for the little Pekingese-Shih Tzu mix that trotted past next.
“Oh my gosh. So cute! Is he friendly?” Cassandra asked, kneeling to pet the dog.
“Sure. That’s Cujo,” the proud owner said.
Silas could swear the dog purred. And who could blame it, given the attention Cassandra lavished upon the little fur ball.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long after that the next wave of guests spotted him and pounced.
“I’ll just get us drinks, shall I?” Cassandra said, escaping to the right with Cujo and his owner.
Smart woman, his dragon sighed, reluctantly letting her go.
The women of the Botanical Society got to him first, bemoaning invasive species and the recent orchid blight. He pledged his full support, as usual. They were good people — the real heroes of these good causes who fought on behalf of Maui. He could relate to that.
Still, his eyes kept drifting to Cassandra as she picked her way through the crowd. His blood pressure rose as one after another man turned his head.
Mine! his dragon roared, wishing he could take flight and burn every one of those assholes to a crisp.
But Cassandra just danced past them with her firm, New Yorker step. She did stop for the animals, though, like a Labrador-Staffordshire mix that seemed intent on licking her face.
“Lany, heel!” the owner insisted. “Lany, down! I’m so sorry. She just loves to meet new people,” Silas overheard.
Cassandra kneeled to pet the dog, laughing. “Aren’t you a friendly girl?”
“Silas,” a deep voice said, dragging his attention around.
“Mr. Mayor, Mrs. Tang,” Silas said, shaking hands. “Good to see you.”
He meant it. The mayor and his wife chaired several charities, and they were potential allies in the ongoing zoning issues that threatened the area around Koa Point. Not that Silas would address that directly at this venue, but every meeting helped build a working relationship.
“So happy to see the state park reopened,” he said.
The mayor gave a little bow. “So happy to have had your support.”
“It was the least I could do.”
Donating time and money really was the least he could do, because the park road had been damaged in a flash flood caused by a shifter fight — the fight in which Cruz and Jody had fought for their lives. The two freshly mated tiger shifters had rolled up their sleeves and pitched in with restoration efforts before leaving for the last events of the pro surfing season.
Then the mayor got to chatting about the latest wind power movement, and Silas did his best to listen. But his mind — and his eyes — kept sneaking over to Cassandra. She was waiting for drinks at the bar, and every gesture she made took his breath away.
Want her. Need her, his dragon insisted, drowning out all other sounds.
Cassandra spent a moment chatting with the bartender, a beefy Kanaka — swapping tricks of the trade, perhaps. But then a tall, athletic man leaned in to say something right in her ear, and Silas’s vision went red. The wide smile Cassandra had been wearing disappeared, replaced by a weary, What the hell do you want? expression. She looked the man slowly up and down, taking in his slicked-back hair, haughty eyes, and tailored suit.
Slick, rich, and arrogant, Silas’s dragon huffed. Entitled son of a bitch.
For a split second, he touched his own tux. Did he come across the way that ass did?
His dragon shook his head. Slick? Okay, maybe a little. Rich?
Silas sighed. That remained to be seen. But really, who cared about money? Peace was far more important. Love, too — and neither of those things could be bought, no matter how rich a person was.
Are we arrogant? His dragon continued the checklist. No way.
Silas decided entitled didn’t apply to him either. He’d lost too much and worked too hard ever to take anything for granted. Still, he scrubbed a hand over his chin and made a vow. More lunch trucks, fewer galas — no matter how much duty called. More sunsets on the beach, fewer hours in the office his buddies jokingly called the throne room.
He grimaced. Who was he kidding? Until Drax was defeated, he couldn’t do any of those things.
Cassandra waved two glasses in the man’s face, making it clear she had a date, and sidled away from her would-be suitor with a firm stride. Clearly, she’d had a lot of practice brushing men off. And she needed it, because she was absolutely stunning tonight.
She’s always stunning, his dragon grumbled.
Every man in the room turned his head as she passed. Several moved to intercept her, but she brushed past each one, keeping her eyes — and smile — firmly on Silas.
His chest swelled a little as his dragon crooned. Me! She wants me!
“So, location remains an issue,” the mayor went on.
Right, the wind farm. Silas tried to drag his attention back to the conversation he’d usually be all ears for — but all he wanted to do was spit flames and announce to the world that Cassandra was his.
The mayor went on for a while, until he, his wife, and a clutch of innocent bystanders were bulldozed aside by the true Rottweilers of the crowd — a phalanx of young, aggressive, I-take-what-I-want types not the least bit interested in charities.
“Excuse me,” the mayor winked, clearing the hell out of the way.
A towering blonde in stiletto heels race-walked over, beating three other women to Silas and grasping his arm.
His bad arm. He hid a wince.
“Silas. So good to see you again,” the woman announced at the top of her lungs.
Silas couldn’t recall ever having seen her before — and he certainly never had engaged in any of the dirty deeds her sultry tone implied.
“Good to see you,” he said in a perfectly neutral tone, trying to place her.
Keeping his eyes on her face was a struggle, though, because the plunging neckline of her dress created one of those optical tricks that just about forced a man’s gaze to the generous cleavage on display. She even dipped a shoulder and leaned forward, trying to give him a bonus peek.
“Finally, we’ll have a chance for that drink you promised,” she said, tiptoeing her fingers over his skin.
Silas had never promised any such thing, and she knew it.
“Another time, perhaps,” he said, turning to a passing caterer. But then he caught the mayor looking at him. Beseeching him, almost.
Don’t piss her off, the mayor mouthed.
He tilted his head.
The mayor’s lips formed a name. Penelope.
Shit. Penelope Whatshername — the fabulously wealthy, thirtysomething widow of a real estate mogul who had been three times her age. The husband had supported many of the island’s charities as a tribute to his late first wife, and Penelope continued to support them — mostly to keep her name in the press. But if Silas pissed her off, who knew how long her support for important charities might last?
Silas looked around. Surely there was another taker among the nearest men, but they all backed off, ceding her to Silas. He wanted to snort. As if he was the least bit interested in anyone but Cassandra.
Involuntarily, he turned to find his date, but Penelope whipped a hand out and turned his chin back to her.
His dragon growled. One little puff and you’re ash, sweetheart.
Silas removed her hand in one icy, don’t ever do that again move.
Penelope smiled, apparently unable to tell the difference between turning him on — no chance — and pissing him off.
“We can go for that drink right now,” she purred, looping her arm around his. She dipped her right shoulder, letting her dress strap slide, revealing a field of creamy skin. “In fact, we can go somewhere where we can be alone.”
He cleared his throat and slid away, making the hand she pressed to his chest drop away.
“Actually, I’m here with a date.” He tried to keep the gloat out of his voice. But damn, it felt awfully good to be able to say those words.
Never have to be alone again, his dragon cheered. Not as long as I have my mate.
Penelope’s look turned into an icy glare. “Well, you absolutely must introduce me to the lucky girl…”
…so I can tear her hair out, her murderous eyes finished the sentence.
Something tugged on his right arm, and Silas spun around to find Cassandra.
“Oh, there you are, honey.” She winked.
And just like that, the tightness in his brow eased.
Honey. His dragon lit up. I like the sound of that.
Silas silently thanked the fates that had brought him this woman.
“Hello there.” Cassandra smiled, showing her teeth to Penelope. She stepped forward so firmly that the blonde took a step back.
She’d make a great dragon, his inner beast purred.
“Don’t you want to introduce us, honey?” Cassandra said.
Not really, no. He wanted to get the hell away from that man-eater, pronto.
“Allow me to introduce…” He stirred the air with his hand, struggling with the name.
“Penelope van Buren,” the blonde hissed, extending a stiff hand.
“This is Cassandra Nichols, my…” Silas trailed off.
Mate, his dragon filled in.
Penelope’s penciled-in eyebrows arched, waiting for the answer.
“Date,” Cassandra said brightly, taking Penelope’s hand.
Silas worried that one of them would deliver a death grip. But luckily, a border collie rushed between them, snapping at a passing fly.
“Abby, wait!” the owner cried, dashing after it.
“So cute,” Cassandra smiled, patting the dog’s back as it went.
Penelope sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “Adorable.”
“Well, I’d love to chat…” Cassandra said, patting his chest.
Unlike Penelope’s touch, that pat made him go warm all over and squeeze closer to Cassandra’s side. His mind went completely blank.
“…but we have to go,” she finished.
We do? he nearly asked, not quite catching on.
We do! We do! His dragon nodded eagerly.
Cassandra squeezed his hand, and he followed without thinking. Without breathing, almost.
“But—” Penelope protested.
He barely heard, though. In fact, he barely heard the hubbub in the room. Because Cassandra was smiling at him — really smiling, and her eyes shone. Her lips quirked, and all his attention zoomed there. His heart beat harder, and a low thump filled his ears as if an entire row of native drummers had lined up on the stage and started pounding a sultry beat.
Destiny, a hypnotic voice whispered in his mind. She is your destined mate.
His eyes focused on the dip in the middle of her upper lip. A heartbeat later, the world seemed to tip gently on its axis, making him lean closer.
Cassandra did the same, and her smile faded to a more serious look. Her lips parted, and her tongue ran over her teeth.
Kiss her, his dragon whispered.
Silas took a deep breath, trying to fight the need.
No more denying. No more pretending, his dragon insisted. Kiss her.
Silas dug deep, searching for the power to resist — and came up empty. His mind emptied too, and all the compelling reasons to keep away from Cassandra vanished into thin air.
She wants it too, his dragon insisted. Kiss her.
So he did. Or maybe she did, because their lips met halfway and pressed together in a perfectly balanced kiss.
His eyes slid shut, and he turned off all his senses except those in his lips. The rest of the world ceased to exist, leaving just him and her there in a moment he’d never forget. A perfect moment — one of the very few of his life. The kind he knew would become a lifetime highlight even as it was happening. His arms wound around her back, and zaps of lightning zigzagged through his veins, making every tight muscle unwind.
Tastes so good. Smells so good, his dragon hummed.
Cassandra’s hands smoothed over his shoulders, and her chest pressed against his. As if they were on a dance floor, and the music was slow. As if they’d been together for a lifetime and knew exactly how to fit together, how to give and take. But there was the thrill of the unknown at the same time, and fireworks went off in his mind. Bright, sparkly ones that might have been little heart shapes for all he knew.
A camera flashed, but neither of them looked up. Penelope muttered and slunk away, but nothing was interrupting him now, damn it.
Cassandra’s chest expanded in a soul-deep sigh that traveled through her body, into her arms, and over to him.
So good, his dragon agreed. My perfect mate.
Her mouth opened under his, and she tilted her head, pushing closer. And just as he kissed her deeper, desperate to taste more, a dark cloud pushed in at the edge of his consciousness, setting off a dozen warning bells.
Silas snapped his head up, sucking in an angry breath.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” two voices tsked at exactly the same time.
Every muscle in his body coiled, and every hair on the back of his neck stood. He stepped forward, shielding Cassandra as a single word dropped from his downturned lips.
“Drax.”
“Moira,” Cassandra grunted, equally displeased.