That Time I Got Drunk And Saved a Human (Mead Mishaps, #3)

by Kimberly Lemming

It tasted like bark that was fermented in a mushroom for no less than a century before it was filtered through the dirty toes of depressed cyclops.

“Oh gods, this is all wrong. I’m high, my arms are snakes, and they have abandoned me.” In the distance, I could hear the low thrum of my own existential dread.

“You’re going to start off with a no, sprinkle some paprika on that no, mash the no together with yeast, water and butter, roll it into a ball of no, and then bake it in the oven for an hour so it comes out with a nice flaky no.

“Oh, honey,” I drawled. “Bless your heart.” His eyes closed on an inhale. “Call me that again, I liked it.”

“A day? Princess, I fell as soon as I saw your reaction to snow.” “I hate you.” “We’ll work on that.”

“What if after two days you find you don’t like me? What if the way I snore keeps you up at night?” “I like the sound of your heartbeat. If your snoring is truly that ferocious then I’ll focus on that.”

“I refuse to dignify your ‘if’ with a response. You are my wife, and we are clearly falling in love.”

“I still think your clothes should answer for their crimes, but fine,” I relented, and returned next to Alexis on the blanket. “What crimes have my clothes committed, Cherry?” “Existing. Obviously.”

“Good morning,” I said. Her gaze flicked to me. “I will under no circumstances speak to anyone until I have finished this coffee.”

“I’ll be the bane of every creature on this continent to get a smile from you,”

There were plenty of accounts from other dragons discussing how feral they became around their fated mate. But nothing could have prepared me for the visceral hatred I felt for the sun who dared to set on my days with her. I wanted to fly up in the sky, rip the sun god’s still-beating heart from his chest and lay it at Cherry’s feet so the days began and ended at her discretion. Nothing less would be good enough.