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  Max grimaced. “No. It’s awful. If I ask for a simple, five-dollar burger, they look at me like I’m a crazy man,” he grumbled. “I fear for what happens once I’m the president. There’s probably some special chef creating masterpieces of tiny filet mignon cubes and caviar. And because I haven’t entrusted all of my staff with the truth, a few of them have tried to turn me into a vegan.” He grimaced.

  “You’re lucky to be a dragon. If you were a normal guy, I’d wonder how you find the time to do all of this,” Hilary said, chuckling.

  Max dug into his fries and glanced at the window, thoughtful. “I haven’t paid a visit to this office in weeks, Hilary, and you know that. I’ve left most of the day-to-day activity of running the company to the senior vice presidents.”

  “True. We miss you, too. I suppose we’ll see even less of you once you’re president. You won’t have time to run this at all.”

  “I won’t,” he answered sadly. “But never fear, no one will dare fire or demote you in my absence upon threat of flames and death. I sent out a memo.”

  “I know. And because I won’t find a job better than this, you’ll see me here in eight years when you’re back. Besides, I know you need me here to keep an eye on things. I don’t trust the board any more than you do.”

  Once Maximilian caught up on the personal business matters most important to him, he departed the office with his security team, wondering if it would be the final visit for some time.

  If he lost the election, he’d return to a content life at the state capitol, complete the remainder of his second term as governor, and settle for a quiet life in the technology sector until it became time to leave the public eye.

  But if he won… oh, the possibilities! No dragon would ever be forced to abandon another life they enjoyed.

  He took the long, scenic drive home with the radio blasting rock and roll — it was the best time in the history of mortal music, in his opinion, but Ēostre disagreed.

  Ēostre. He smiled as he punched in the gate code and slid the black Cadillac into the drive. The thought of his close friend warmed his blood. Would she be settling down for a family dinner with Saul, Chloe, and Astrid? Or had she given her family the slip in favor of campaign management?

  “Must you always take the long route?” Vincent parked his motorcycle behind the car.

  “I must. If I win this election, you know as well as I do my driving days are over.”

  The wolf smirked and disappeared around the back of the house. Max had long given up on inviting the man inside. All four agents assigned to him belonged to the same pack and all were equally introverted but dedicated to their duties.

  Max took the white steps of the governor’s mansion at a brisk pace and let himself into the quiet home. The estate was too large for a bachelor, but he’d always held some small hope of finding a mate to share it with. He’d even prayed to the Ancestors on one brief, pathetic occasion of loneliness, wishing to find his other half, then laughed bitterly when he came to his senses.

  How could the Ancestors introduce him to his ideal mate when she’d been there before him all along? In Ēostre, he saw everything he wanted, everything he could ever need. Wisdom, strength, and beauty were all wrapped within one elegant dragoness.

  Unfortunately, Ēostre had already found and lost her beloved. He had watched the death of Fafnir reduce her to a shade of her former, radiant self. And she also had no interest in Max beyond friendship and putting him into the White House.

  Max tossed his jacket onto a coat hook, loosened his tie, and beelined to the informal parlor. The daily post waited for him on the coffee table beside a mug of fragrant, light roast coffee. His live-in maid saw to his day-to-day needs, and he paid her handsomely for putting up with his crap. Not that she complained about having his coffee and mail ready for him each day.

  “Lynette?” he called.

  “Just cleaning up my mess in the kitchen!”

  She appeared around the corner and stepped into the open entranceway, a big grin on her face. “Unless you have any other needs, Max, I’m leaving for the night. My boyfriend scored us tickets to a late concert in Los Angeles tonight.”

  Max glanced at the time. They’d be stuck in rush hour traffic no doubt. “You should have left an hour ago. The cars will be bumper-to-bumper now.”

  “Oh it’s fine,” the thin, young woman said. Lynette was a failed ballerina, tiny in frame, but lacking the grace to transform a childhood hobby into a career. Like her older sister, Hilary, she knew about Max’s true nature and appreciated the generous salary he paid in exchange for secrecy and loyalty.

  “In the future, call me if you need to leave. I can fend for myself.”

  “You may know how to operate a coffee maker, but you’ll never make it as good as I do,” she teased.

  Max grunted. “I don’t know what you do, but it’s liquid gold in a cup when you make it.”

  Lynette beamed. “I know. Those are the secrets you learn when you’ve worked as a barista for a while.”

  “You should let me in on them.” He sipped the scalding hot brew without blowing on it. “Tell that boy he had better drive safely with you in the car.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course, Dad.”

  Her words washed over him with the same effect as a bucket of ice water. He sat rigid and still in his seat, gripping his coffee mug in one hand. Hairline fractures spread beneath his thumb. Lynette couldn’t possibly understand what she’d said wrong or why it deeply affected him. Almost seven years had passed since he’d picked the girl out of a mile-high application pile, and in seven years, she’d become a daughter to him.

  But she’d never called him “Dad” even to tease. After a struggle to find his voice, he said, “Enjoy your concert.”

  “Thanks! Dinner is in the oven. You can take it out in an hour when the timer rings and handle it from there, right?”

  Max scoffed. “I’ve been feeding and caring for myself for centuries, thank you.”

  “Sometimes I wonder,” Lynette retorted. She ducked through the double doors of the front hallway and sprinted outside, shutting the door behind her with an excited slam.

  Max’s fragile smile wavered. Lynette was a good girl. The girl his Brigid should have been.

  Instantly, the sweet coffee became sour in his mouth. He set the oversized mug aside and slouched back on the couch with his fingers interlaced behind his head. The mail went ignored, and instead, he fell prey to memories of his daughter. Her ghost haunted his thoughts at every turn, an ever-present reminder of his greatest failure.

  Where did I go wrong with her? Was I too lenient? Too tolerant of her spiteful tendencies?

  Hours later, after consuming every last crumb of the roast left in the oven, Maximilian retired to the upper level, showered, and settled into his personal office where Facebook distracted him for an hour, the time divided between inane chat in messages and idly liking photographs flashing over his wall.

  It was all an absolute waste of time. He procrastinated until well after midnight, pouring a few cups of cold coffee from the pitcher Lynette left in the fridge. Eventually, he took the entire thing back to the office. She made it strong and sweet with flavor shots and cream, perfect for adding a pair of ice cubes.

  Lynette’s coffee-making skills had been the final test before he’d hired her back then. She was fresh out of high school, a young barista at Starbucks leaving two parents behind in Nevada for the first time. When her mother and older sister drove with her for the interview, he’d become enchanted by their close family. When her mother had the audacity to quiz the governor of California about his intentions, he’d offered both girls a job. One to look after the other, he’d said, after promising he had no romantic interests.

  “I’ve gotten nothing done,” Max realized at 3 A.M. Where had his night gone? He rubbed his face a few times and glanced at the open doorway. The shadowed hall beyond it led to his bedroom.

  Because he dreaded sleep and his recur
ring dreams, he dawdled for a while longer and eventually settled into reading the current legislation on the table.

  “Such a ridiculous waste of taxpayers’ money,” he muttered. “We already have a law concerning pets in outdoor restaurant seating. Whose absolute nonsense idea was this?” He searched the wording, found a minute difference, signed it, and slouched back. He didn’t give a damn if restaurants allowed dog owners to sit outside with Fido while sipping their expensive lattes.

  He considered purchasing a dog, perhaps even visiting a shelter, and had finally convinced himself to rescue a large parrot when his phone suddenly rang. Accustomed to receiving phone calls from his fellow dragons at all hours of the night, he plucked it from the cradle and answered without checking the ID.

  “Hello?”

  “What are your plans for this weekend?” Ēostre asked.

  Max leaned back and stared at the heap of paperwork strewn over the desk. “The California legislature has been busy. They expect me to read these things called bills, and once finished, I am to sign my name to them. Can you believe it?”

  Ēostre’s exasperation amused him. “Smart ass. I am quite aware of your duties. My surprise is that you plan to work over the weekend.”

  “What can I say? I enjoy my reputation as a workaholic.”

  When Ēostre chuckled, the warm sound created flutters in Max’s belly. Even her laughter sounded magical. “I have a better idea, Maximilian. Would you accompany me tomorrow for a difficult and most harrowing adventure?”

  “Adventure to where?”

  “A car dealership. I find myself in need of a personal vehicle.” She paused, and the words rolled from her tongue like syrup. “I want a car like yours.”

  “Like mine?”

  “Exactly like yours.”

  “Then take this heap of trash and be away with it.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “You’re right, I don’t,” he admitted. “Will Saul or Leiv not go with you?”

  “I didn’t ask. While Leiv is well educated on the matter of automobiles, and my son is quite generous with his time, both have prior obligations this weekend. So? Will you come?”

  Maximilian gazed at his never-ending pile of work. There was only one answer. “Of course.”

  Chapter 3

  Ēostre arrived at noon, courtesy of her own magical portal. After ending her call with Max, she stepped through a shining ring of lavender and silver, twinkling with stardust shimmers.

  The governor met her in the entrance hall, still sipping his morning coffee. “I would like to state at the moment how amusing I find it that a woman with the power of teleportation finds it necessary to purchase an automobile.”

  “I very well can’t vanish and appear on a whim among the mortals, Maximilian,” she reminded him. “At least, not until you have become the president.”

  The portal collapsed behind the dragoness as she stepped up to him. Barefoot, Ēostre stood nearly six feet tall, and her four-inch Louis Vuitton pumps brought her to Max’s height.

  “That makes it no less entertaining, whether your vehicle shall be for appearances only or to provide you transportation. Besides, do you even know how to drive?”

  “Saul, Leiv, and Chloe have all given me lessons.” She sniffed daintily. “I have a driver’s license.” She glanced around. “Where’s your bodyguard?”

  “They never come inside, but he’ll shadow us throughout the day. I think the poor kid had a heart attack when I told him I planned to accompany you to test-drive cars.”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  Once outside and alongside the sleek Cadillac Maximilian drove for his day-to-day business, Ēostre walked her fingers over the pristine finish. “Black has never suited you, Maximilian, but this is a handsome automobile. Take me to purchase one like this.”

  Max opened the passenger door for her. Something about the kind gesture, one he’d done several times in the past, made her fingertips tingle and a shiver race down her spine.

  “There are many things you must know before we reach the car dealership,” Maximilian warned once behind the wheel. “Money may be no object, but the point is to never allow the salesman to know your pockets are bottomless.”

  Ēostre twisted away from the window and raised a brow at her friend. Max wore his casual best, dressed in a white designer shirt and dark slacks. If he were a mortal man, she’d call him crazy for wearing a light leather jacket in the absurd Californian heat, but it looked good on him.

  So did the dark stubble on his cheeks. Their hair grew slowly, and as the days passed, he stopped shaving for work. No matter how much she fussed at him about maintaining appearances, she couldn’t convince Max to pick up a razor past the middle of the month.

  “Our faces are quite well-known, yours even more than mine. You’re the most popular governor to lead this state since the Terminator. They’ll know we have money.”

  “They will know I have money. You are Ēostre Feuersturm, and as far as they know, merely my campaign manager.”

  She fixed him with a dubious look.

  “If you’d chosen Drakenstone as your legal name, this would be an entirely different situation.” Maximilian hesitated. “May I ask why you chose to abandon your familial name?”

  “I had wanted to avoid unnecessary association with Saul until we decided how to handle the obvious similarity in our ages. My son appears to be thirty years old, and I scarcely look a day over forty. In human terms,” Ēostre said.

  “Yes, in human terms. I’d never given it much thought until I ran for governor.” Maximilian rubbed his chin and gazed away from the road ahead of them, his amber eyes flicking to the signs in passing. “How old do I appear?”

  Ēostre pursed her lips. “Forty-five at the most, but I’d call it a stretch to be honest. Your smiles always make your crow’s feet and laugh lines more apparent. When you do smile,” she added.

  Max chuckled. “The public loves a man with a genuine smile. I haven’t forgotten your advice, Ēostre. I’m working on it.”

  “You are. I’ve seen the improvement, Max. You’ve gone from a melancholic, taciturn grump to a man the people can safely trust,” she praised him. “And I’m trusting you right now with part of my nest egg. Saul could only liquidate so much of my wealth into usable currency.” Ēostre sighed.

  “If you took advice as well as you gave it, you’d have a sizable bank account by now,” Maximilian reminded her.

  Ēostre bit the inside of her cheek to refrain from firing off a snide retort. Max could banter with the best, but she’d rather spend their drive in pleasant conversation than playful jabs. Instead, he idly gave her tips about how to handle the salesman, and once they arrived, he offered his arm and led her to the dealership’s door.

  Sunlight filtered in through large floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the polished floor and several pristine Cadillacs. A carpeted area to the side boasted leather couches and a coffee machine with a variety of single-serving pods to choose from. A tray of cookies, freshly baked by the smell, nearly lured Ēostre over until Max caught her attention with a whisper against her ear.

  “Remember my warning, sweetheart. No matter what he says, the price isn’t carved in stone. The dealer will expect you to haggle.”

  “And haggle I shall,” she replied. Her voice was light-hearted, but the brush of his stubble past her skin covered her arms with goosebumps.

  A lone salesman sipped coffee at a nearby desk, but he beelined over to them after one glance at their fine attire. The man himself stood several inches shorter than Ēostre, and even without her heels he would have only reached her shoulder level. He drank her in, like a fish thirsting for water, his eyes lingering over her svelte curves before they returned to her face.

  “Welcome to Cline Wilson Cadillac, I’m Sammy. What can I do for you today?”

  “Ēostre,” she introduced herself. “A pleasure to meet you, Sammy. We came to look at the CTS models.”

  “I’
m Max,” the fire dragon beside her said while shaking the man’s hand.

  The salesman watched Max closely, a silly smile frozen on his face and recognition in his eyes. “Oh, wow. It’s you.”

  “Ah. I’ve been recognized,” Max said.

  “A pleasure to have you in our dealership, Governor. So, you said you were both interested in a new CTS. Looking to upgrade your own model?”

  “I am purchasing the car,” Ēostre corrected the salesman. “My friend has merely accompanied me to help.”

  “It’s her first time,” Maximilian explained. “I merely tagged along for moral support.”

  Sammy blinked. “Ah. Well then, are you set on the CTS or would you like to see some of our other models?”

  “The CTS, please. I’m familiar with Max’s vehicle and would like one of my own.”

  “Excellent. Let me show you what we have on the sales floor and we’ll go from there.”

  The entire time Sammy walked her through the floor models, Ēostre was keenly aware of Max’s presence behind her. Each time he leaned in close to murmur advice in her ear an electric tingle zipped up and down her spine.

  “The white, while perfect for you, will show every speck of dirt and dust,” Max pointed out. “I suggest the blue, otherwise it will become green and yellow once spring arrives.”

  “Perhaps I’d prefer the red, to be bold and daring,” Ēostre spoke out of impulse.

  Max blinked, startled, but he covered it with one of his dashing smiles — the genuine sort that made her toes curl.

  “I think red would suit you nicely, Ēostre.”

  No better than it suits your hide, she thought. She flushed with satisfaction and turned to face Sammy as the man returned with keys in hand. Once he presented them to her for the test drive, Ēostre was set loose on the streets of Sacramento.

  “How do you feel about the way it handles?” Max asked from the rear seat. Sammy rode on the passenger side, occasionally offering directions for Ēostre to follow their test drive route.

  “It handles far better than that ostentatious brick my s— that Saul drives each day.” The wheel slid like glass beneath her hands, and the motor’s methodic, gentle purr became almost peaceful whenever Sammy quieted. “I love it.”