Page 16

GUVAN

R eily’s head rests on my chest, her soft breaths warming my scales.

Her fingers trace idle patterns over my stomach, , I forget everything—the war, the dam, the grolgath.

All that exists is her. This tiny, infuriating, irresistible human.

How did she get here? How did she get inside me?

I was supposed to punish her, break her, make her regret ever crossing me.

Instead, she’s unraveled me, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same.

"Have you ever been fishing on Mirror Lake?" Her voice breaks the silence, casual, as if she’s not sitting naked in my lap in my garage.

I glance down at her, my brow ridge lifting. "No."

"Do you want to go?" she asks, tilting her head to look up at me.

"Now?" I blink, caught off guard. The idea is absurd. It’s the middle of the day, and I’m in my true form, half-expecting Pyke to call and remind me of some duty I’m neglecting.

"Why not now?" She sits up, her blue eyes challenging me. Her lips curl into that damnable smirk, the one that makes me want to both strangle her and pin her against the nearest surface.

I sigh, running a clawed hand through her fiery hair. "No reason we can’t, I suppose. It’s just… sudden."

She exhales heavily, her expression softening. "If you’re going to flood Mirror Lake, you should at least spend one day out on it. To remember how it used to be."

There’s something in her tone—a weight, a plea. I narrow my eyes, studying her. This isn’t just about fishing. She’s up to something. But then again, when isn’t she? I nod, giving in because, at this point, I’d follow her anywhere.

"Very well. Let us go… fishing." The words feel strange, foreign. I haven’t done anything so mundane in… ever.

Reily grins, triumphant, and slides off my lap.

She grabs her clothes from the floor and starts dressing, her movements quick and efficient.

I watch her, my gaze lingering on the curve of her hips, the way her skin glows in the dim garage light.

My cock twitches, reminding me of how easily she can best me in this game we’re playing.

"You’re going to need clothes," she says, throwing my shirt at me. It hits me in the chest, and I catch it before it can fall. "Unless you plan on going as your scaly self. Which, actually, might make for an interesting fishing story."

I snort, standing and pulling the shirt over my head. "I’ll use the inducer. No need to scare the fish."

She laughs, the sound light and free, and it does something to my chest—something I don’t want to examine too closely. "Fair enough. But don’t blame me if you don’t catch anything. You’ve got the patience of a toddler on a sugar high."

I growl, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "And yet, I’ve managed to reel you in, haven’t I?"

She looks up at me, her eyes darkening. "Maybe. But I’m the one holding the rod right now."

I kiss her, hard and demanding, because it’s the only way to shut her up. She melts against me, her hands tangling in my shirt, , I consider forgetting about fishing altogether. But then she pulls away, her smirk returning.

"Later, big guy. We’ve got fish to catch."

I shake my head, following her toward the door. She’s going to be the death of me. And yet, I can’t wait to see what she does next.

Reily jingles the keys to her rusted Gremlin with a grin. “I’ll drive.”

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical but amused. “That thing? It’s a miracle it hasn’t disintegrated yet.”

She rolls her eyes. “Come on, big guy. Get in.”

I try. I really do. But even with the seat all the way back, my knees are jammed against the dashboard, and my head brushes the roof. I grunt, extracting myself from the sardine can. “No. Absolutely not.”

Reily leans against the car, arms crossed, smirking. “Too good for the POS, huh?”

“Too big ,” I counter, striding toward the garage. I yank a tarp off a gunmetal gray Range Rover. “We’ll take this.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, now we’re talking.”

She climbs into the passenger seat, but as soon as we hit the winding road to Mirror Lake, she’s leaning forward, gripping the dashboard. “Faster,” she urges, her voice full of mischief.

I glance at her, the corners of my mouth twitching. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Damn right. Come on, Gary Irons, billionaire speed demon. Show me what this beauty can do.”

I press the accelerator, the engine roaring as we hug the curves. Her laughter fills the cabin, wild and carefree. I can’t help but think how magnificent she is—unafraid, bold, completely alive.

When we reach the lake, we pull up to a boat rental shop. The owner, a grizzled man with a suspicious glare, takes one look at me and scowls. “We’re closed.”

Reily steps in front of me, flashing her most charming smile. “Hey, Jimmy. Listen, I’m trying to show Mr. Irons here what he’s going to destroy if he builds that dam. Give us a chance to change his mind, huh?”

Jimmy’s eyes narrow, but he relents. “Fine. But it’ll cost you.”

I pull out my wallet, tossing twice the rental fee on the counter without a word. Jimmy pockets the cash with a grunt, gesturing toward a decent-sized fishing boat.

Reily takes the helm, guiding us out onto the water with practiced ease. “See? You’re already learning something.”

“How to overpay for a boat?” I grumble, sinking into the seat beside her.

She laughs, shoving my shoulder. “No, dummy. How to appreciate what’s right in front of you.”

We anchor near a quiet spot, and she hands me a fishing rod. “Here. Let’s see if you can catch something.”

I frown, examining the contraption. “I just sit here? And wait?”

“Yep. It’s called patience. You should try it sometime.”

I glare at her, but she’s already casting her line, her focus on the water. The silence is… peaceful. Uncomfortably so. I’m used to action, to doing . But here, with her, it’s different.

After a while, she points to the shoreline. “Look at that. See those families? The kids playing? The people kayaking? That’s what you’re going to take away, Gary. All of it.”

I shift, uneasy. “The dam isn’t about destroying. It’s about rebuilding. Coldwater needs jobs, stability?—”

“And this is the only way to do it?” She turns to me, her eyes piercing. “Come on, Mr. Billionaire Genius. Surely you can come up with something better.”

Her fingers brush my chest, trailing lightly over my shirt. My breath catches, and I look down at her, resisting the urge to pull her into my lap.

She bats her eyelashes, her voice softening. “You’re smart. You’re powerful. You don’t have to do this. Please, Gary.”

Her use of my human name sends a jolt through me. I exhale, defeated. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

She grins, victorious. “And yet, here you are.”

I reach out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

Her smile widens, and she leans into my touch. “Knew you’d see it my way.”

I groan, shaking my head. “You’re going to be the death of me, Reily Dawson.”

“Maybe,” she says, her voice light. “But you’ll die happy.”

I can’t argue with that.

The tug on the line snaps me out of my thoughts. I reel in the bluegill, its scales glinting in the sunlight. It’s a small thing, barely worth the effort, but Reily’s grin makes it feel like a victory.

“First catch,” she says, clapping her hands mockingly. “Look at you, Gary Irons, master angler.”

I grunt, unhooking the fish and tossing it back into the lake. “It’s a start.”

She laughs, leaning back in her seat. “A start? That’s the pinnacle of your fishing career right there. Don’t ruin it by catching something bigger.”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling. She has a way of making even the most mundane moments feel… alive. We stay out on the water for a while longer, the sun dipping low on the horizon.

When we finally head back to shore, the laughter and shouting from Cold Slither’s bonfire reach us before we even step off the boat. I glance over, my eyes narrowing as I spot the two teenagers—Boris and Barfbag, if Reily’s reaction is any indication.

“Oh no,” Reily mutters, her voice tightening. “They’re too dumb to know Cold Slither’s just messing with them. This is just torture.”

I don’t need her to explain. I see the setup—the boat, the fireworks, the cruel grins on the gang’s faces. Boneshaker’s booming voice carries across the sand.

“Come on, it’ll be cool,” he says, slapping Barfbag on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “If you pass the initiation, we’ll let you join the gang.”

Barfbag and Boris exchange looks, their faces lit with a mix of fear and excitement. They start chanting Cold Slither’s slogan, their voices shaky but determined.

“We’re Cold Slither, you’ll be joining us soon. A band of vipers, bringing your doom!”

Reily grabs my arm, her fingers digging in. “Gary, we have to stop this. They’re going to get hurt.”

I glance down at her, the fire in her eyes mirroring the anger building in my chest. “I’ll handle it.”

She nods, trusting me without hesitation. It’s a dangerous thing, that trust, but I don’t have time to dwell on it.

I stride toward the bonfire, my boots crunching on the sand. The gang notices me almost immediately, their laughter fading to a low murmur. Jack steps forward, his grin sharp and mocking.

“Well, well, look who decided to join the party,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Gary Irons, billionaire philanthropist. What brings you to our little gathering?”

I ignore him, my gaze locking on the two teenagers. “Get in the boat,” I tell them, my voice low but firm.

Boris blinks, his braces catching the firelight. “Uh… what?”

“Now,” I snap, and they scramble to obey, their earlier bravado evaporating. Jack steps into my path, his eyes narrowing. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there, Mr. Irons. These boys are about to join Cold Slither. You’re interrupting a sacred tradition.”

I step closer, my height and bulk forcing him to tilt his head back to meet my gaze. “Funny,” I growl. “I don’t recall asking for your permission.”

Boneshaker moves to flank Jack, his massive frame looming. “You’re outnumbered, Irons. Why don’t you turn that fancy ass around and walk away before things get messy?”

I smile, slow and dangerous.

“Oh, I’m counting on it getting messy.”

Jack’s grin falters, but he tries to play it off. “You’ve got a real death wish, don’t you?”

Reily’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and clear. “Leave him alone, Jack. He’s not the one you should be worried about.”

The gang’s eyes shift to her, their laughter returning. “What’s this?” Jack sneers. “Little Reily Dawson, playing hero? You’re out of your league, sweetheart.”

I don’t give him a chance to say more. My fist crashes into his jaw, sending him sprawling into the sand. The gang erupts, and I brace myself for the fight.

Finally, I think, a thrill running through me. It’s been too long.

“Stop!” Jack shouts from the sand, holding up a hand like some kind of dramatic soap opera actor. Cold Slither freezes mid-lunge, their faces twisted in confusion. Boneshaker looks like a dog denied its chew toy.

“Boss?” Crazzy Steve asks, his clown paint smeared from the heat of the bonfire. He tilts his head like a confused puppy, though I’m pretty sure he’s more rabid than innocent.

Jack gets to his feet, brushing sand off his leather jacket with theatrical slowness. He’s got blood on his chin where my fist connected, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand, smirking like he’s just won the lottery.

“Sure, we could pound the shit out of this rich asshole,” Jack says, his voice dripping with mockery. He gestures at me like I’m some sideshow freak. “But I’d much, much rather sue him for millions of dollars!”

The gang erupts into laughter, though I can tell some of them don’t get the joke. Boneshaker’s still glaring at me like he wants to rip my arms off, but he doesn’t move.

“Sue me for what?” I sputter, my fists clenching at my sides. I’m still itching for a fight, but the smug look on Jack’s face makes me pause.

“For assaulting me in front of dozens of witnesses,” Jack says, spinning around to address the gang like he’s performing for an audience. He clutches his jaw dramatically. “I might need surgery! Not to mention mental anguish, and loss of work!”

“Loss of work?” I growl, stepping forward. Jack doesn’t flinch, just spreads his arms wide like he’s inviting me to hit him again.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to have to call off my security shindig tomorrow on account of my injury,” he says, his smirk widening. “In fact, I might have to go on disability. That’s even more I can sue you for, Irons.”

I grit my teeth, my fists trembling. Every instinct in me screams to take him down, to make him regret every word, but Reily’s hand slips into mine, her grip firm and grounding.

“Gary,” she says quietly, her voice low but urgent. “Not like this. He’s baiting you.”

I glance down at her, her blue eyes steady and unwavering. She’s right, of course. Jack’s playing a game, and I’m about to hand him the win on a silver platter. I exhale sharply, forcing myself to relax.

Jack grins, clearly enjoying himself. “Go ahead,” he says, spreading his arms wider. “Make me a rich man, Irons.”

Reily tugs my hand, pulling me away from the bonfire. Boris and Barfbag trail behind us like lost puppies, their wide eyes darting between me and the gang.

“Let’s go,” Reily says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t the time.”

I let her lead me away, my jaw clenched tight. My anger simmers just beneath the surface, hot and unrelenting. Jack thinks he’s untouchable, hiding behind his human disguise and legal threats. But he’s not. He’s a grolgath, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.

As we reach the Range Rover, I glance back at the bonfire. Jack’s watching us, his smirk sharp and victorious. My hand tightens around the car door.

“Reily,” I say, my voice low. “I need to expose them. Once they’re out of the shadows, I can take them down.”

She nods, her expression thoughtful. “We’ll figure it out. But not tonight. Tonight, we get these idiots home.” She gestures to Boris and Barfbag, who are still staring at Cold Slither like they’ve just witnessed something legendary.

I grunt, climbing into the driver’s seat. My mind races, plotting and scheming. Jack’s not going to win this. I’ll make sure of that.