Page 15 of Charisma
“Nonsense, I’ll whip something up,” Esme emphatically states. “Why get your hands dirty when I can use what Gaia gave me?” Sometimes, I want to do things the normal way, not the magical way. But to each their own, I suppose.
Rolling my eyes at her, I retort, “Fine, you always have to get your way, Esme.”
BALDWIN
I’m watching the three pairs closely, although I don’t get a sense of danger, at least not toward us. I agree with Charisma’s assessment, though. Esmerelda wouldn’t willingly allow any danger to enter our domain. Feeling the need to have my mate close, I lace our fingers together and pull her close as we follow the rest of the group to our town hall dining area. The room will be large enough to seat this large group so we can find out what brought them to us for help. Hell, as a shifter, I’m more than capable of holding my own against any threats, but fuck, they’redragons.Their size alone is intimidating in human form, but when they’re shifted, they’re fucking massive. Plus, they can spew fire. A shudder courses through me at the mental image of them decimating large areas with hardly any effort on their part. Not to mention, my furry pelt would catch easily, and I sorta like how soft it is; if it were to be caught on fire, it’d be coarse. I’ve been imagining Charisma petting me for hours on end while shifted. Somehow, I doubt she’d do it if it was in a gritty, tangled mess.
As we saunter through town, we catch a few curious stares, but since I have no clue what’s going on, I shrug my shoulders but send them a smile so they know everything’s okay, and nobody needs to go into panic mode.
“Some are rushing their kids back into their cabins,” Charisma whispers. “Don’t they know by now that we’d never bring them harm?”
“They do, Risma. But they were rescued from some pretty dire circumstances and are still wary of strangers. Give them time,” I suggest, squeezing her fingers with my own.
“It just frustrates me because we were the ones who saved them. Why would we do that if we were only going to turn around and hurt them?” Her question is justified, but I also understand where the villagers are coming from. They were hurt, used, controlled, and lost several family members while in captivity. If they want to protect their young, what harm is there in them doing so? Our community is their safe place, their haven, but old habits die hard, and some haven’t been here all that long compared to how long they were in captivity.
“It makes me sad more than anything,” she quietly admits. “What they went through.” She leaves her sentence hanging and I can’t help but think back to the time that we had to face off with a gnarly wench who wanted to control all shifters and rid the world of those who weren’t like us. Mainly, the human population.
“You have quite the homestead,” Bell says, admiring the view as we continue along our path.
“We’ve put a lot of work into it,” I reply as I try to look through her eyes at our landscape. “We’re all proud of what we’ve accomplished.”
“As you should be,” her mate, Drakko adds. “It’s homey and well protected. I’ve noticed that many are skittish, is there a story behind that?”
“Yes, one that once we trust you, we may tell you about,” I announce.
“Stop being snarky, Baldwin,” Charisma chastises me. “They’re curious, and they’ve shown nothing but kindness. Be. Nice.” Her teeth are gritted even though she’s smiling at me.
“Yes, dear,” I reply in a sugary sweet tone. “As you wish.”
“Kiss ass,” Paxton mumbles behind us, where he’s keeping a keen eye on our visitors.
“Pot, meet kettle,” I rebuke, swinging my arm broadly in an arc from him to where he has his mate tucked into his side.
“Fuck off, Baldwin,” Paxton mutters mumbling some pretty derogatory, inventive things toward me and my asshole that are less than flattering.
“I will not, ever, have a cucumber anywhere near that, thank you very much,” I rebuff, glaring at him for even implying such a thing.
“Cucumbers are for salads and putting on our eyes when they’re puffy and swollen,” my mate adds, glaring at Paxton. If looks could kill, he’d be a pile of kitty ash. That thought has me snickering because the look on his face right now is priceless; he seems as though he’s sucked on a tart lemon.
Dismissing the murmuring around me I keep my eyes rigorously trained on the beaten path as we trudge our way to the community center. As soon as our group passes the doorway, a gasp passes Maizy’s lips. “This is a brilliant idea,” she says appreciatively with an awed expression. “That’s the biggest couch I’ve ever seen!”
“My hatchlings and I would’ve loved to have had that when we were teenagers,” Airvyd confesses.
“Sure would’ve,” Drakko endorses. “Especially with the way you sprawl out on furniture as if you’re the only one in the room.”
“He’s got you there,” Mari needles her mate, playfully jabbing her elbow into his ribcage.
“Dammit, I mean dangit,” Airvyd scolds Mari, changing his terminology the moment he sees the two teenagers staring at him in reverence. “That crap hurts, my witchy-witch.”
“Dang dude, you’re huge!” One of the young men declares, skepticism sent toward the three strapping behemoths.
“What are you?” the second boy wonders out loud.
“A dragon,” Buvor remarks, power radiating from him. I’m pretty impressed because he’s in his human form, yet his very presence commands respect from everyone around him in a way that surpasses the energies an Alpha possesses.
“No shit?” the first boy asks.
“No shit,” Airvyd affirms.