10
Gabriel
“This is the one.” Tabitha spins around in a strapless Carolina Herrera gown in burgundy, red, and gold. It has a short skirt but a long train in the back and a giant bow at the front at her waist.
“Only someone with a figure like yours can pull this gown off,” our private stylist says in a melodious French accent. “It’s one of those gowns designed for models not the general public.”
Tabitha shoots me a look under her long lashes. “The colors are right, aren’t they, Gabriel?”
I have to rub my face to cover the steam that streams from my nostrils. The need to claim Tabitha has been coming on even harder since we’ve been in Paris. I made it through the past two nights, but my dragon grows more and more restless.
Right now, seeing her in our colors drives me mad with desire.
