The Dragon Prince's Crush - Lorelei M Hart Page 0,10

the worst that could happen? He shouted out that he had diarrhea and I could never look at him again?

It wasn’t as if I’d ever see him again.

I shivered at the thought of that.

Still, if he was hiding from the prince, odds were good he was going to be on the next flight off of Montipan.

Fly. Dragon. Run. Of all the days for my wolf to be so pushy.

Five

Aiden

My ear was against the door as I strained to hear the muffled voices. Despite the distance, I’d recognize Gabriel’s voice anywhere. It reminded me of ancient doors creaking open in the ghostly movies Brenton had insisted on us watching late at night when we were kids. What lay behind those doors was always wicked and terrifying, and his disembodied voice gave me the creeps, sending goosebumps prickling over my skin.

But unless I was mistaken, only two people came into the bakery. Gabriel, and my guess the other was that sneak, Raphael. Had they lost Raphael’s father, or was he creeping around the back entrance of the bakery? Based on the little I knew of the older man, I doubted that. He had people at his beck and call who did his dirty work for him. You didn’t get to be in his position, with the influence and power his name commanded, without masterminding plenty of hatchet jobs. Unlike Father who was a benevolent monarch.

There was a tinkle, as if a door had opened and closed. I held my breath, wishing I’d paid attention to the bakery’s layout. The tiny bathroom had one small window, far too small for me to crawl out. I’d probably get stuck if I tried, and my father would be humiliated by tomorrow’s headlines of “Bummer” or “Prince Is Pooped Out” on every news site and social media platform.

This is no way to live, being trapped in a stranger’s bathroom, hiding from my father’s advisor and the man he is insisting will be my mate. How could I be expected to sit on the throne when I can’t confront my father’s right-hand man? My brothers were fortunate to have been the second and third eggs to hatch, while I’d been cursed being number one.

Images of my brothers and their families intruded on my thoughts. They mated for love. Why can’t I?

Maybe Dad could give me advice. He’d spoken very little of his and my father’s courtship, but I couldn’t imagine being introduced to my late grandfather as a potential life-long partner and future consort for his son. He’d been an intimidating man, much more of a traditional monarch than Father, though my grandmother had been the opposite. She’d always soothed over her mate’s rough edges.

Footsteps. Fuck! Shallow breathing on the other side of the door. I shoved a fist in my mouth to stifle the frustrated scream on being discovered by Gabriel, and yet… The stale musty aroma that followed Gabriel around was nothing like the warm scent of… of what… caramel… sugary… what was it? I could almost taste it. Not the fragrance associated with a bakery but with a fair or a festival. Cotton candy.

My dragon was unsheathing his claws and his nostrils flared but not to unnerve Gabriel or the pissy Raphael.

Claim.

What? No, I told him. The alpha helped me get out of an awkward situation. You can’t claim him as my mate because he did me a favor. My dragon wasn’t usually a fan of all things sweet. What was wrong with him? And yet… that fragrance wafting through the door almost had me imagining… a future… a different one from the one that had been laid out for me.

“Hello?”

“Gods-dammit!” I slammed back into the small sink and winced, knowing I’d have a huge bruise on my lower back by tomorrow.

“Are you all right?” The voice was more panicked than a moment ago. “Should I call a doctor?”

“I’m fine.” I flushed the toilet and washed my hands, taking my time to dry them while coming up with an excuse as to why I’d been hiding out in the guy’s bathroom. Putting on my public face and straightening my spine, I was no longer Aiden hiding out in a bakery’s bathroom, but Prince Aiden, ready to explain my disappearance.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” I held out my hand to shake his, and he studied it, his face creased in a frown. “I washed it. Don’t worry.” And wanting to fill the silence, I gulped before bursting into song, singing the tune my nanny had taught me about handwashing