****
An entire pack of paparazzi waited outside the opera house when they arrived, and the rapid flash of bulbs blinded April. People shouted for their attention, flinging random questions and demanding explanations. Any other time, that would have been April’s living nightmare, but Mads was so handsome and her dress was so exquisite, she felt like a Hollywood star on the red carpet, and even knowing the pictures would be splashed across newspapers around the world didn’t shake her confidence.
Once inside, Mads led her to his private box right above the stage. The seats were plush and comfortable, and when the lights went down, her hand found his thigh. He rested his fingers over her, stroking absently over her knuckles while she gently massaged him. She wanted to do so much more than that—and she was certain she could get away with it in the privacy of their box—but he seemed genuinely excited for the performance.
April had never been to the opera in her life—and she didn’t understand a word of Italian—but she found herself entranced by their beautiful voices and the pure spectacle on the stage. When she looked away, it was only to study the handsome man beside her. She’d never seen Mads dressed like this and the sight of him continuously took her breath away.
It took her by surprise when the lights came up and Mads folded her hand in his. “Intermission. Would you care for a refreshment?”
“Champagne would be lovely.”
He led her out of their box and down to the lobby, guiding her so she was free to stare at the ornate beauty surrounding her. When she thought about how old the opera house must have been, how many important and famous people had walked through this very hall, how beautiful every inch of the building was, it made her feel as though she must be dreaming. A dream that went on and on and she never wanted to wake from.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Mads asked as he handed her the flute.
“Yes, this is amazing.” She didn’t understand a word of the opera, but she did know the basic story of Orpheus and his doomed attempt to save his love from hell. “Though I do wish I knew more.”
“Perhaps I should apologize for dragging you here.”
“No, not at all,” she said quickly. “I’ve never had an evening like this in my life. Besides, you can explain all the finer points to me later tonight.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
He brought the glass to his lips but he didn’t look away from her, and she saw something in his eyes that she didn’t recognize—something warm and hungry, and she almost took a step towards him. She felt drawn to touch him, but feared that if she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
“How...how were you able to get such wonderful seats?” April asked, surprised by how dry her voice sounded.
“That’s my box. I enjoy the opera. It’s one of the few things in this world that doesn’t change. La favola d'Orfeo sounds the same now as it did in 1607.”
April didn’t often think about the reality of Mads’ age—it was too much to wrap her mind around, somehow. She didn’t know his precise age, but she knew he’d seen centuries pass him by. He first heard this opera four hundred years ago, and he’d likely still be listening to it four hundred years from now. She’d be dead by then. She tilted her head and downed the rest of her champagne.
“Well, look who it is. I should have known you wouldn’t have the decency to stay in hiding for very long.”
Mads turned and greeted Savannah Maelstrom with a smooth smile. “Savannah. Charles. I forgot you were fans of the opera.” He spoke as though their last meeting did not end in bloody death.
Charles Maelstrom looked like an older, stockier version of his son, Chester, but his eyes flashed with anger. April stepped closer to Mads.
“You have some nerve, showing your face here tonight.” Savannah’s voice cracked with the force of her rage, and color climbed her cheeks.
“I always attend the opening of the season. I am sorry for your loss, Savannah, but I believe it is more fitting for you to sit at home and grieve.”
“How dare you,” Charles growled. “I should have you arrested.”
“On what charges?” He sounded more curious than concerned, as though they were discussing something purely hypothetical. April merely wondered what had stopped Charles from calling the police a month ago. Perhaps dragons did not welcome humans in their affairs.
“The murder of my son,” he bit out.
“Your son intended to blackmail me. In the process, he nearly devoured my mate. His punishment fit his crimes.”
“Your mate.” Savannah sneered the word, her beautiful features twisting into something ugly. Monstrous. “You shouldn’t be so cruel to the girl, Mads. She’s nothing more than your plaything.”
Charles touched his wife’s arm. “Savannah, we should get back to our seats.”
“Listen to your husband, my dear.”
But she gave no sign of hearing either of them. “How could she be your mate when she could never bear your son? How can she be your mate when she will never know how it feels to fly or snap bones between her teeth? How can she be your mate when she’s dead and you go on living for centuries more?”
Mads took a half step forward, his eyes narrowed and his voice so low it sounded more like a growl. He didn’t make a single move to touch her, but she still flinched back from the weight of his gaze and the pure sense of power radiating from him. April caught the moment of confused indecision on Charles’ face—like he knew he needed to put himself between his wife and a threat, but he had no desire to be caught in the middle.
“You never were one for subtlety, were you my dear? Know this. If anything happens to April, I will come for you. If she so much as stubs her toe, I will make you pay for her pain. And if you see me again, don’t come whining to me about your worthless son or I will take your entire clan from you and leave you staked to a mountain of their bones.”
The bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission.
“Enjoy the rest of the show,” Mads said, his voice returning to normal. “Come, mein Schatz.”
April took his arm and let him lead her away from the Maelstroms’ smoldering anger. She waited until they were safely seated before whispering, “What the hell was that?”
“She intends to kill you.”
“What?”
“Dragons speak very literally.”
“So, when she said ‘when she’s dead,’ she didn’t mean sixty years from now when I’ve died of old age in my bed?”
“Correct. She means she plans to kill you herself.”
“Why are you so… blasé about this?”
“I told her what I will do to her entire clan if anything happens to you,” he mentioned coolly. “Do you believe that was an idle threat?”
“What does it matter what I think? Does she believe it is an idle threat?”
Mads took both her hands in his. “I will never allow any harm to come to you. As long as you’re with me, you’re safe.”
“Okay.”
“No, not okay. Do you believe me?”
“Of course I believe you. I trust you with my life.”
He brought her hands to his mouth, kissing each of her knuckles. With each brush of his lips, a little of her fear dissolved, until she was almost completely at ease.
Almost.
Because deep down inside, she knew Savannah had a point. How could she be his mate when she couldn’t ever truly share his life?