Ryker tossed his coin. Caught it. "Hey, Maddox."
"No."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"The tone said enough. Whatever it is, no."
Ryker leaned against a post in the tent. "Hypothetical. What if I were to tell you, that during the three weeks you blacked out, you got married."
Maddox took a sip of coffee. "I would say bullshit."
"Humor me."
"If, in some fever dream, I married a woman I can't remember, that would be an impulse marriage. And I would annul it." He said it the way a man says something obvious, with the mild impatience of a king who had been asked whether water was wet.
"What if she's a fated mate?"
Maddox gave him a flat look. "Dragons don't get married because their nose told them to. That's wolf behavior."
Ryker's mouth curved at one corner. The curve contained things he was choosing to withhold, and the withholding was physically hurting him.
