Crimson frowned hard, his brows knitting together. "I would never do such a thing."

  Hearing that I'd genuinely offended him made me feel guilty. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

  Thankfully, he got over it quickly, returning to his previous teasing demeanor.

  "That's all right," Crimson said. In a soft, alluring voice, he added, "Besides, I don't need magic to win you over, Taylor."

  My heart fluttered like a trapped butterfly. I wasn't used to this flustered sensation. My skin felt hot and tingly, and it was harder to breathe than usual.

  After the waiter cleared our table, Crimson stood. He offered me a hand to get up. Normally I would've refused, but I felt woozy and didn't trust my knees. I took his hand. It was warm and softer than I’d imagined.

  "Thank you for a wonderful evening," Crimson said. I could tell he meant every word sincerely.

  "You're welcome. I should thank you."

  He looked pleased, which was oddly cute. Maybe I could afford to be less of a sourpuss towards him.

  I noticed he was still holding my hand. I didn't bother to move it. He didn't, either. My pulse flickered. Crap. We held hands for so long that my palm was sweaty.

  "Guess I should head back," I mumbled, retracting my hand.

  "Mm."

  Neither of us made a move to leave. My skin tingled where we'd touched, a phantom sensation left behind.

  A thought came to me like a sudden lightning strike, powerful and searing-hot, scorching my mind: I wanted more of Crimson.

  My cheeks flushed with heat. I turned around.

  "I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I said.

  I heard the tiniest crumb of disappointment in his voice. "Yes. Tomorrow."

  As I got off the platform, I felt a gnawing resentment towards the cameras. I knew I'd signed up for constant filming, but it got old fast. I wished they weren't there, tracking my every move. It was invasive, but hey, wasn't that the point of a reality TV show? I'd made the choice to be filmed. Now I had to live with it.

  But because of the cameras, I couldn't be fully authentic with Crimson. I remembered Alaric's goading, and how he played to the cameras. I wasn't like that. I was already a reserved person, and having lenses thrust in my face only made me want to retreat deeper into my stoic shell.

  I just wanted a moment alone with Crimson. Truly alone. Maybe then I could untangle these weird feelings I had towards him...

  Was that too much to ask?

  Ten

  Crimson

  I desperately hoped sitting behind a table during dinner blocked my raging erection from the camera.

  That was not the reaction I expected from myself. What began as a pleasant, if playful, evening with Taylor had turned into a battle of wills—my brain against my body.

  And my brain lost by a landslide.

  Nudging his foot beneath the table, caressing his hand—all those small, innocent touches were gasoline on a fire. My initial attraction to Taylor exploded. I craved him in a way I'd never experienced before.

  It was shocking, honestly.

  That final moment where the two of us hesitated to part filled me with budding hope. Did Taylor feel the same way I did?

  As the date died down and the cameras turned off, I heaved a sigh of relief. What a chore. I couldn't wait for this reality TV nonsense to end.

  But if it did, would I lose Taylor forever? Would he go home, back to his normal life, and leave me behind?

  The idea terrified me. My inner dragon growled with deep displeasure. I had to bite down on my cheek to stop myself from shifting in rage and despair.

  Oh, Holy Drake, I was already too deep into this...

  After Duke assured me filming was wrapped for the day, I stormed silently off set. I disappeared deep into the forest and shifted. My beloved suit was enchanted, and was safely swallowed up into my dragon's scales. Power rippled across my body, freeing me from my human form. My claws dug into the ground and I hissed in frustration.

  Taylor.

  I needed him.

  A growl reverberated in my long throat. I didn't normally feel so... feral. I prided myself on controlling my draconic urges.

  But Taylor had unlocked something within me, and now the beast couldn't be shoved back into its cage.

  I paced the forest floor restlessly. What I should've done was gone back to the castle, slipped into my room and rested for tomorrow's filming. If today was any indication, the next day would be filled with similar nonsense.

  But I was painfully awake, a crackling live wire. I couldn't have fallen asleep even if my eyes were duct-taped shut.

  As the moon slowly rose, I spent an hour warring against my urges. It was nighttime. By now all the kobold staff must've gone home. The beach was dark and empty.

  Which meant nobody would see me if I went to visit Taylor.

  Dragons were impatient creatures who wanted what they wanted, and they wanted it now.

  And I wanted Taylor right this second.

  A switch flipped. My impulsive, reckless dragon side took over. Without sparing it another thought, I leapt into the sky and flew towards the omegas' hotel.

  I recalled perfectly which room was his. I'd never forget after I locked eyes with him on his first day.

  Now the question was—would he actually let me in?

  I angled my wings, careful to stay quiet as I banked towards his room. When I reached the balcony, I hovered on top of it for a second, shifted in mid-air, then landed on the concrete ledge.

  I blew out a breath and dusted off my suit. I caught my reflection in the glass. I still looked fantastic.

  The inside of the room was dark. Looking closer, I noticed the curtains were drawn. What a shame. I would've liked to catch a glimpse of Taylor's sleeping form. I was sure it was adorable.

  Would it be too creepy to open the sliding door and walk in?

  Probably.

  As much as my dragon soul wanted to claim Taylor right this second, I had to keep some decorum.

  Instead of barging in like I wanted to, I knocked softly on the glass.

  Quick footsteps were followed by the curtain being yanked aside. I stood face-to-face with a shocked Taylor. He gawked at me, dazed, like he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not.

  "Crimson?"

  "Good evening."

  He blinked rapidly, then hissed under his breath, "What the hell are you doing here?"

  I pouted. "I thought you'd be happier to see me."

  Taylor's bristling softened. He sighed. "I... I'm not unhappy to see you."

  That brightened my spirits. "Really?"

  "Yes. I'm just surprised." Taylor crossed his arms, but he didn't look displeased. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?"

  "Not at all," I said brightly.

  Taylor snorted. "Figures. Alpha dragons can do whatever they want, right?"

  There was no malice in his voice. He teased me in his usual stoic way.

  "Funny you say that," I remarked. "Originally I was going to simply come inside, but I figured it was polite to knock."

  "Oh, good. He has manners."

  Despite the barbed sarcasm, I heard a hint of gentle amusement. He liked that I was here.

  I sauntered closer. As I ate up the distance between us, Taylor didn't back away. He held his ground, eyes locking with mine. The sharp glint in his gaze reminded me that he was no pushover, either. He was a ferocious tiger—an apex predator just like me.

  "Did you come here just to bother me?" Taylor asked. Again, no malice. It felt like he was being playful.

  "Maybe," I teased. "Is that all right?"

  "I don't have a choice, do I?"

  "Sure you do. Tell me to leave, and I'm gone."

  Taylor hesitated. Eventually he sighed like I was some big bother, but he said, "Fine. Stay. Not like I'm doing anything important."

  As he said that, he glanced at the bed. I noticed a sheet of blue fabric on top of the hotel covers, along with a notebook scrawled with measurements.

  "What's that?" I asked.

  Taylor bristled. I felt his walls come back up, but I didn't understand why.

  "I genuinely want to know, Taylor," I encouraged.

  "Just my quilting," he mumbled.

  My brows rose. "You quilt?"

  "Yeah. It's not a big deal."

  I scoffed. "Not a big deal?"

  Scowling, Taylor glared at me. "Want to make something of it?"

  I realized where his sudden anger had come from.

  "No, no," I said, shaking my head. "You've got me all wrong. I'm not judging your hobby. I mean, honestly, Taylor." I gestured to my suit. "Look at me! Can you not tell I'm a fellow connoisseur of the fabric arts?"

  Taylor's hackles fell. "Yeah. Guess that's true."

  "Believe me, I know how much work and effort goes into quilting. Even a dragon like myself can't muster that much patience."

  A slight smile appeared in the corner of Taylor's mouth. "Finally, something a dragon can't do."

  I smiled in return, happy to see him in better spirits.

  "Can I see some of your projects?" I asked.

  Taylor shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I didn't bring them, but I have photos."

  "I'd love to see them. Ah, they're not on your phone, are they?"

  Like most reality TV contestants, Taylor had had his phone confiscated for the duration of filming. For a second, I was filled with disappointment that I wouldn't get to see his work.

  But Taylor shook his head. He reached into his bag and pulled out a few printed digital photos. "Nope. When Winnie said I couldn't bring my phone, I printed these out for reference. Figured I'd need something to do at night when I was bored."

  He sat on the edge of the bed and spread the photos in his hand like cards.

  "Come sit next to me so you're not looking from a mile away," he offered.

  My heart skipped a beat. I wasted no time slipping beside him. It wasn't just my heart that was affected by Taylor—the whole room smelled like him, and up close like this, it was impossible to ignore his scent. I tried not to think about the way it sizzled in my stomach.

  "Here's a project I did for a local competition," Taylor said, handing me a photo.

  It featured a huge quilt, larger than the hotel's king-size bedspread. It was made up of hundreds of smaller patches in a dizzying array of colors. Despite the patchwork, it looked cohesive and well thought out.

  "Taylor," I murmured. "You made this?"

  He nodded curtly. "Took a couple months of work, but I'm single and had nothing else to do, so..."

  "It still blows my mind that you're single."

  He shrugged. "I'm used to it. Here."

  Expertly dodging the topic, he handed me another photo. This was of a smaller, softer quilt with pastel shapes. Just looking at it melted my heart.

  "This was for a co-worker's newborn baby," Taylor said with undeniable warmth in his tone.

  I smiled. "You like babies?"

  "I love them. And not because I'm an omega," he added defensively.

  "What, you think I'm some kind of alphahole who assumes all omegas are baby crazy?"

  He arched a brow. "I don't know, are you?"

  "Ouch, Taylor." I mimed clutching my heart.

  A blush spread across his cheeks. "Sorry. I didn't mean it. You don't seem like the type... even though you're on this stupid TV show."

  "So are you," I shot back.

  He grinned once again like we shared an inside joke. "We're even, then."

  Seeing his smile this close felt like a blessing. Taylor was absolutely gorgeous. I examined his face, burning every line of it into my memory.

  "Tell me again why you're single?" I asked.

  His blush deepened. A shadow fell over his face as he stared at the far wall.

  "Isn't it obvious?" he muttered. "Nobody wants me."

  Well, that was a punch to the gut.

  "Excuse me?" I blurted out.

  "It's true. Not my parents, not any alphas." He narrowed his eyes in pain. "All I have are my friends, and my hobby."

  That explained why he seemed so close to those two, the jackal and the wolf. A fountain of sympathy opened up inside me. I touched Taylor's hand, enveloping it with my warmth.

  "I don't know what their problem is," I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice, "but they clearly don't know a catch when they see one."

  Taylor's hand stiffened beneath mine, but he didn't jerk it away.

  "Apparently, you're the only one who thinks so," he mumbled. "My parents stopped talking to me when I didn't pursue the career path they wanted."

  A jolt of anger shot through me. "What?" I hissed. "What could you possibly do that offended them that badly?"

  "University wasn't for me. Especially not business school. I didn't like the vicious competition. So I dropped out and went into a simple retail job to keep myself afloat while enjoying my hobby."

  Draconic fury coursed through my veins like lava. It took everything I had to tamp it down, otherwise I'd shift in the middle of the hotel room.

  Instead, I squeezed Taylor's hand reassuringly. "Screw them."

  Taylor's face was stoic, but I sensed the hurt within him. "It's fine. I'm over it."

  He clearly wasn't, but held it together so he wouldn't look weak or vulnerable. How could I teach him he didn't have to be that way with me?

  I blew out a long, hot sigh from my nostrils. "I'm sorry, Taylor."

  "For what? You didn't do anything."

  "That's not exactly true. By agreeing to be in the Dragonfate Games, I roped you into it, too. I didn't know you hated competition."

  Taylor looked surprised. "No, it's not your fault, Crimson. I chose to come."

  "Why, then?"

  He hesitated, glancing down at the bed sheets. "I don't know."

  I desperately wanted him to open up to me. No more holding back.

  "We're alone, Taylor," I whispered. "You can tell me the truth."

  He arched a sarcastic brow. "You're not wearing a hidden mic, are you?"

  I laughed. "Strip search me, if you like."

  I expected him to outright refuse, but Taylor's eyes flashed like he actually considered it. How pathetic was it for my cock to twitch because of that?

  "I won't say no if you undress yourself," Taylor replied slowly.

  Was that an invitation?

  Well, shit. I couldn't refuse now—and I didn't want to.

  Overflowing with excitement, I grinned as I slipped out of my blazer. Taylor's eyes tracked me as I folded it and set it neatly aside.

  "No mic so far, is there?" I teased, but it was also an easy out for him in case he wanted me to stop this silly charade.

  "Not yet," Taylor said, eyes flashing.

  So I kept going. My silk tie and button-up shirt were next. I took my sweet time undressing, putting on a show for Taylor. I loved showing off my clothes and my body to him. I felt like the world's most expensive stripper.

  Taylor's tiger eyes landed on my hip bones, now exposed. He let out a low huff of amusement. "I half expected your body hair down there to be red."

  That comment sent me reeling. He was looking at me that closely?

  "It's black, I'm afraid," I said. "Although there might be a surprise if you go even lower."

  He arched a brow. "Oh?"

  "Shall I resume the show?" I grinned. "Or are you satisfied that I'm not wearing a hidden mic?"

  There it was—a natural end point if Taylor wanted one. Half of me expected him to take the out, since any further loss of clothing would result in a very naked dragon. But the other half of me wanted to go all the way, to bare my body and soul to him. It was far too late to deny it—I was smitten with this big kitten.

  Taylor's sharp eyes held steady on me. Despite his practiced stoic expression, I sensed the burning cat-like curiosity inside him. Then he said the magic words: "Not yet."

  A shiver rolled down my spine. My only remaining clothes were my pants and underwear.

  Not wanting to disappoint Taylor, I slowly undid my button and zipper. Then I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and shimmied out of my pants, setting them with my other things.

  I was now fully naked, except for my underwear—which my half-hard cock strained against.

  My skin felt hot under Taylor's intense gaze. The coolness of the hotel room air raised the hair on my arms.

  "Satisfied now?" I asked huskily.

  Taylor stared at my deep red briefs. "No."

  I chuffed. "There's only one thing left to go. Do you really think I could hide a mic down there?"

  Taylor didn't miss a beat. "You said yourself that your microphones are very high quality. How do I know you're not hiding some advanced technology in your underwear?"

  I'd set myself up for that one.

  "Well," I mused, "why don't you take a look?"

  Taylor finally looked up at me. It was the first time our gazes had locked since I started undressing. An undeniable fire blazed in his eyes.

  Tempted by curiosity, I looked beneath his thighs.

  Oh, yes. He was definitely hard, too.

  Finally, Taylor said, "Maybe I will."

  I only had a second to process that before Taylor's hands landed on my hips.

  As his fingers dug into me, a jolt of arousal sparked down my spine. My dragon soul roused, pounding on the walls of his cage.

  "Taylor," I said in a low, thick voice.

  "Hm."

  How could I phrase this without sounding like a sex-crazed alpha?

  "It will, ah, be difficult for me to control myself if you press onward," I said.

  Taylor's palms pressed into my hip bones. He glanced up at me. "Who said I want you to control yourself?"

  A wave of relief hit me. I understood now. This raw attraction was mutual.

  Was that all it was, though? Simple attraction?

  I didn't think so. It was too powerful, like comparing a summer drizzle to a typhoon—and what I felt towards Taylor was definitely the latter.

  A pleasured growl rolled in my throat as Taylor's palm stroked across the front of my briefs. His large hands radiated warmth. My cock twitched beneath his touch, desperate after only a few seconds. Soon, I was hard enough that the fabric fought to stay in one piece.

  "Pent up?" Taylor teased in that coy, calm voice I found so alluring.