Page 8 of The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas
And despite himself, Jack wondered if someone like Avery could ever be interested in a hearth witch from one of the poorer parts of Anorra.
Avery finished the cookie. He let out a contented sigh.
A sense of satisfaction filled Jack. This had been made by his family, and Avery had enjoyed it. “How was it?”
“Perfect.” Avery smiled at Jack. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his coin-purse. He counted out the coins and placed them on the counter. “Thank you, Jack.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Where is your familiar today?” Avery asked.
“Carrie? She is in the back sleeping.” Jack gestured to the back. “We have another shelf for her there. She often likes to be near the oven.”
“Hmmm. Where it’s nice and warm. Smart girl.” Avery slid the plate back. “Thank you very much. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
Jack’s gaze followed Avery as he left the store.
“You should ask him to the Christmas markets!” Lacy whispered fiercely from behind him.
Jack jumped. “What?”
“He’s so cute,” she pressed.
Jack shook his head. “And he’d probably prefer someone cute like him. Not someone like me.” He gestured to himself.
She reared back, eyes blazing. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Easy there.” Jack gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m just not as pretty and polished as him.”
“Maybe he wants someone like you!”
“What? A bit of rough?” Jack scoffed. “Maybe for a night or two.” He shook his head. “There isn’t a future there,” he said softly.
Lacy opened her mouth, but the bell tinkled and the door opened. Lacy turned her attention to the new customer, and Jack let out a breath, having been saved from continuing the conversation.
CHAPTER 5
Avery sat in the armchair by the fireplace. The flames crackled and danced along the glowing logs. Avery wrapped his hands around the cup of tea and inhaled, soaking in the warmth and scent. He took a sip, savouring the milky, sweet taste.
His gaze roamed all the books filling the shelves and stacked in piles throughout his library except for a large space in the middle of the room near the fire. He stood and began perusing his collection.
Mine. All mine.
He purred.
What book should I read now? One of the newer ones? An old favourite? Perhaps something at random.
He touched a hand to one book. So many books and so little time. He stroked his fingers along the shelf. A hum of pleasure escaped him.
Mine.
A knock on the library door pulled his attention from his treasure.
“Enter.”
The door opened. Daniel, the butler, stood in the doorway.
