Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland, #1)

by Kristen Ashley

I sucked in breath to say something to my dad, anything, and to get him to say something in return. It caught in my throat as a man moved to stand in front of and to the side of the man in white robes. That man looked down the aisle at me. My step faltered when I took in all that was him and there was a lot to take in. “Sjofn,” Dad growled, his hand over mine in the crook of his arm tensing. He felt my step falter and he thought I was going to bolt. With effort, I pulled my shit together and kept walking. But I was thinking, Oh no. And that would be a big, oh no, no, no, no. No. Was that . . . ? Was he . . . ? Oh shit. He was. He had to be. He was standing at the front of the church. It was The Dragon. It was my groom. And I got his name. I totally got it with the way he was glowering at me like he most assuredly did not like me. He also did not want to be there. And further, what he did want to be doing was slaughtering entire villages either with weapons or, perhaps, breathing fire at them and setting them alight.