5. Chapter Five

Icraned my neck to the side, trying to loosen the knot from hours of carrying a drink tray. The restaurant was the only old-school diner with burgers, shakes, and an extra side of grease on the side in the kingdom.

It kept us busy.

My dad always said to never underestimate the power of comfort food.

"Mara!" Frankie yelled from the kitchen. "Your cheese fries are ready."

I pulled at the bottom of my black shorts and grabbed the fries from underneath the hot lamp. Frankie turned his ball cap around backward and winked at me. My father hired him straight out of high school, and he"d been here ever since.

I slid the fries onto the back corner booth and noticed someone moving around outside of the front door.

Sasha was waving like a lunatic.

I glanced back at my customers, double-checking that no one needed anything before I walked outside.

"He wants you to come to the ball."

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the chill of the late September air against my skin. "What are you talking about?"

"I was on my way home from the library when the Dragon King announced that all women must attend, or they will be punished. Then I saw Dorran, and he pointed at me."

I lifted a brow. "And you think that means I should attend, why?"

"One, because it's mandatory. Two, because he wanted to make sure you came—,"

"Sasha," I said, shaking my head. "You're insane. He probably wants to make sure that I'm there so they can arrest me—,"

She rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't he have already done that? He was looking in your window because he's curious about you, Amara."

I opened the door for a couple of dragons walking up the sidewalk and then glared at Sasha. "Sasha. You live in La-La Land. The only reason I'm going is because I don't want to go to prison."

Sasha clapped her hands. "What are you wearing?"

I cringed. I had zero dresses appropriate for a ball. I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have anything—,"

"We'll go to the thrift shop downtown tomorrow after your shift. Can you leave early so the step-monster doesn't bully you into cleaning the house top to bottom?"

"Possibly. I think they're so busy getting ready for the ball that she won't notice."

"Good. We have to get you something sexy to wear."

"It's a ball, not a strip club. I need something elegant, and I can't afford anything elegant."

Sasha pursed her lips. "My sister is about your size. We'll raid her closet. She doesn't care, she's married and not going to the ball."

"I need to get back inside. We close soon, and I'm freezing."

"Okay," she said. "Text me when you get off. We need to discuss hair and makeup."

"You know I hate makeup."

"That's because you don't need it," she said, winking at me. "Text me."

I hurried back inside to end my shift, helping Frankie close the restaurant, and walking the short distance home. I had homework to do, employee applications to look over, and my body was in desperate need of a full night's sleep.

The house was quiet when I made it home.

It looked like they went out of town for the night to look for dresses for the ball on Friday. They rarely left, but I was glad when they did.

Slipping off my shoes, I let my hair down and jogged up the stairs to my room. I swung the door open and halted in my tracks. In the corner of the room was a mannequin, and not my usual one.

My stepmother wouldn't have got me one. I wasn't even sure she realized I had one at all. Swallowing my nerves, I walked over, trailed my fingertips against the fabric, and inhaled.

It smelled ... like him.

It was the oddest thing.

Dragons had better senses than humans did, but I could nearly taste his scent.

It sent a puddle of desire down my body that pooled in my stomach.

Everything else looked in place. Nothing out of order, but he'd been here, who else would it have been?

Maybe Sasha was right. Maybe Dorran was interested in ... me?

My step-monster texted the next day and said that she wouldn't make it home until late that afternoon.

Which meant I had a free evening to do as I pleased. No making dinner, or working at the diner.

It was a rarity that I wouldn't take for granted.

Sasha tossed something over her shoulder, and I barely made it out of the way. "I swear, Stephanie is such a pig. I don't know how she landed herself a man. If there was mud in this room, she'd roll around in it."

I sat back on her unmade bed. Sasha wasn't wrong. Stephanie wasn't a tidy person in the least. A polar opposite of Sasha. She'd met her husband in high school, and they married shortly after she graduated college.

"Ah-ha!" she said, pulling out a silky baby blue gown with lace sleeves and a low-cut front.

My body flushed at the sight of it.

Sasha wiggled her brows. "It matches your eyes, Amara. Try it on. Try it on!" she said, helping me to stand, and shoving me toward the bathroom. "You're going to look killer in this. I know you try to hide behind those big t-shirts of your dads, but you need to look like a woman on Friday."

I closed the bathroom door and glanced down at the expensive fabric. Slowly, I began to undress, and I cleared my throat. "I think he came back to my room."

Sasha swung the door open so quickly that my hair flew from my shoulders. "What? When? Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrugged. "Because I think this is a huge fabrication of my mind. You're planting seeds of unrealistic fantasies in my head, and it's unfair—,"

"Oh, cut the crap," she said, slicing her hand through the air. "Why do you think he came? Did you see him?"

"No," I said, sliding out of my t-shirt. "There was a new mannequin in my room last night, and we both know the step-monster didn't get it for me. They were out of town anyway."

She lifted both brows and gestured for me to turn around. She helped me into the dress and buttoned me up in the back. "He noticed you needed a new one. Dude is totally into you."

I nibbled on my lower trying not to take Sasha"s words too seriously.

She slid her palms down the lace of my sleeves and turned me toward the mirror. The waist was a little big, but nothing I couldn't adjust myself.

"You look amazing," she said, pulling my hair up to see the plunging neckline.

"I can't wear this—,"

"You're gonna wear it. This dress is perfect for you."

I eyed myself slowly, the lace was revealing, yet covered everything, and the silk skirt clung enough to show my shape, but covered enough that I didn't feel like a flashing neon light.

The low-cut front highlighted my cleavage, and the color brightened my skin as if it were meant for me.

"Maybe ..."

"Definitely," Sasha said, grabbing my shoulders, she turned me to face her. "I want you to go to the ball, Amara. I want you to go and dance with The Dragon Prince, let him wine and dine you. Let him get to know you. Don't shy away. I need you to get out of that house, and he's your way."

I turned my gaze down toward my feet. "I can't use him, Sasha—,"

"You're not. He is interested in you. You go and show him how interesting you are."

I chuckled. "I'm not interesting. I live in my stepmother's attic and I'm twenty-five. I have to hide my classes. I can't leave because of my inability to live alone, and I take medication. I'm not his type."

"Maybe let him be the judge of that?"

I smiled and leaned in to hug Sasha. "Thank you."

"I love you, Sis," she whispered. "Now. Let's find some jewelry, and get out of here before my sister comes home."

"You didn't ask her?" I gawked.

"I did, but I promised I would be out of her apartment before she got back with David. They need their privacy," she said, crossing her eyes.

When I got back home, there was a note from my stepmother saying they'd gone to the restaurant for dinner, and then to the seamstress to have their dresses altered.

I knew they wouldn't ask what I was wearing, or even consider me a contender, which made it easier on me. I slid my fingers down the dress draped over my forearm as I walked up the stairs to my room.

Stasa had a line of clothes littering the floor from her room to her bathroom. I picked them up, knowing I'd have to do it tomorrow if I didn't.

A gentle breeze brushed my skin as I bent over to gather the last item of clothing. I jerked up and glanced over my shoulder. My door was cracked, which wasn't too strange, but the air didn't settle well with me.

I knew I hadn"t left my window open.

I tossed Stasa's clothing into her hamper, walked down the hall, and tiptoed into my room. The air I felt was gone, my window was shut, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Flipping the light on, a scream ripped from me, fear sliding down my body, immobilizing me.

He was there.

Standing right there in the corner of my bedroom. All six foot seven inches of him. One boot was tucked behind the other, his shoulder pressed against the wall, and his emerald green eyes bright and intent on me.

One loose ebony curl fell against his square forehead, and when his gaze lowered to the dress in my hand, he smiled, a dimple denting his cheek.

"Hello, Little Mouse," he said, his voice deep as I remembered.

I swallowed, stepped back against the wall, brought the dress to my chest, and watched him like a shy ten-year-old girl.

Dorran pushed from the wall, taking several steps toward me, he stopped a couple of feet away. His gaze lowered to mine, his scent overwhelming me.

Unable to stop myself, I looked at his giant black wings folded against his back. They were finely detailed, and for a moment, I thought to reach forward and touch them. What would they feel like? Velvet? "It's rude to stare without speaking, Amara."

"But it's okay to break into someone's home?" I bit my lower lip as soon as I said it. What was I doing? Dorran was The Dragon Prince. His dad ruled over this city.

I'd already broken a rule, and now I was back talking? Someone slap some sense into me.

"Hmm. The Little Mouse talks back. I'm shocked."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Dorran chuckled, and it lingered over my skin. "I've been waiting for you. I hope that your friend made sure you knew I want you to attend the ball, and that it"s mandatory. I'm assuming this is your dress?"

He wanted me to come. The question of why was on my tongue, but I couldn't gather the nerve to ask, so I nodded.

Dorran reached forward, sliding his fingertips against the satin fabric of my dress. "I love satin. My sheets are satin."

Dear God. Imagining his sheets, and him in them, had my body temperature rising.

"Can I help you?" I said, feeling my throat grow dry.

Dorran lifted both brows. "I'm here to formally invite you, Ms. Amara, to the ball. You'll be there?" he asked.

"Yes," I whispered.

Dorran reached forward and brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear. The touch shot an electric current down my spine.

"Thank you for the mannequin, but I'm not sure why you gave it to me."

Dorran tilted his head to the side. "Because I can't have my date to the ball using that old thing to sew."

Date to the ball? Was this some kind of joke? Had someone paid him? Bet him? None of it made sense.

"Your date?" I asked, staring down at his boots. "You're in search of a mate—,"

Dorran chuckled, reached down, and lifted my chin so that I was staring at him. It felt unreal. The rough pads of his fingers against my soft skin were a contrast I couldn"t get enough of. The way his tongue snaked across his lower lip was a silent invitation to taste them.

And my body wanted it so badly. Despite the situation, and his position in the city, I wanted him to put me out of my misery.

"I make the rules, Amara. I'll be waiting for you on Friday. I'll be wearing the tux," his eyes lowered to my dress, "with the light blue tie."

He left so quickly that I hadn"t blinked before the window was shut behind him.

The cool September breeze wrapped around me again and disappeared. My legs gave out for a moment, and I slid down against the wall, cradling the dress to my chest, and trying to catch my breath.