The Last Dragon Shifter

Chapter Five

"Naomi! I never thought I'd see you again," Max said. His delighted expression revealed how happy he was to have been wrong.

"Neither did I," she said.

What did it mean that they had? She wondered if this was a lucky coincidence or the gods were shouting that they were destined to meet again. If so, for what purpose?

The cook from the food stall interrupted their moment by clearing his throat.

"Miss, here you go," he said, shoving the food into her arms. As she juggled the items to stay steady, Max stepped forward.

"Let me help you." He took one of the containers and a cotton candy from her hand.

Naomi was too startled to resist. She found herself walking side-by-side with him down the street. Despite the packed walkways, he managed to stay within arm's length. Naomi desperately searched for something to say. Something charming or witty, but all she could think about was his arm brushing against hers. She knew she couldn't let this chance pass by again but what the hell should she SAY?

"Are you enjoying the festival?" she finally asked right as Max said, "I like sugar flower cotton candy too."

Yes. Naomi was oh so smooth as she laughed nervously.

"It's my favorite."

"I always go to the festival."

They both spoke again, continuing their awkward dance of mutual dialogue. As Naomi inwardly freaked out about how badly this was going, she ran straight into the man in front of her, splattering her messy, chili dogs down his back.

"What the hell," the man growled as the food seeped down the back of his shirt.

"Wow, I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going—"

"Damn straight, you weren't," the man said, folding his beefy arms over his chest. At least six feet tall, he towered over her. Behind him, several of his friends lingered nearby.

"Sorry ain't going to cut it. Are you going to pay for the cleaning?"

"Come on, man. It was an accident. No need to get hostile with a lady," Max cut in.

"And who are you?"

"Someone who knows it's wrong to try and intimidate a woman," Max said, his voice going cold.

The gruff man's face turned crimson, and Naomi took a step back. He was about to start yelling, but then his expression changed from one of anger to recognition.

"Wait a second...it's you. You're Malcolm Greenwood."

"No, he's not. His name's Max," Naomi said.

"Oh honey, he's fooling you. I'd know that pompous tone and condescending stare anywhere. He's on broadcasts everywhere you look."

The man snatched Max's hat, pulling off a wig with it. A wig that had been hiding a shock of thick, golden hair and pointed ears underneath. With the cap gone, Naomi did see the resemblance. She'd never been around the prince up close, but based on posters, "Max" certainly matched his looks.

"Do your parents know where you are, Your Highness? I bet I'd fetch a pretty sum for finding you. Of course, that's after I make your good ol' dad sweat a little first."

The man and his friends moved closer.

Max—or, well, Malcolm—grabbed on to Naomi's hand.

"Run!" he said, before knocking one of the men aside. He dragged Naomi through the streets, carelessly pushing people out of the way.