The dragon stood at the edge of the ballroom, his golden eyes fixed on the door.
Was it a mistake to let her wander off with the lord alone? The manor lord's scent had been all wrong—disgusting, even. He shifted uneasily, letting the women's chatter around him fly over his head.
"Isn't he just dreamy?" one woman cooed, her fan fluttering delicately in front of her flushed face.
"Oh, absolutely. But he's so distant," another replied, her gaze lingering on the dragon's chiselled profile. "I wonder who he's waiting for."
"If only he would look this way," a third woman sighed, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.
He stood there, outwardly calm, but inwardly his instincts were screaming. The woman's presence, usually a constant and nagging flicker in his awareness, suddenly dimmed.
