Page 15

L eaving Arliss in my cabin wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.

Okay, that’s a lie.

It was fucking brutal.

But I did it.

Mostly because if I didn’t, I was going to crawl right back into that bed, bury myself in her all over again, and forget that the rest of the world existed.

And that wouldn’t be fair.

Because work is work, and even if my entire soul is currently curled around her like a protective shield, I still had shit to do before I could get back to taking care of her the way I want to.

The way she deserves.

Still, I left.

And not because I wanted to.

But because I needed to earn that moment when I walk back in there and find her awake and glowing and maybe even a little sore from what we did last night.

Gods, last night.

She looked so damn good lying there.

Perfect, really.

All sweet and soft and flushed, tangled in my sheets like she belonged there.

Like she was born for that bed, for that room, for me.

Her scent lingers everywhere.

Ours, now.

And it hit me in the chest so hard I almost sat down and forgot what day it was.

I hope she’s still sleeping.

She needs it, after all the, well , let’s call it what it was.

Exercise.

Vigorous.

Relentless.

Thoroughly sexual exercise.

I gave her everything I had, and if the whimpers and sighs and the way she clung to me meant anything at all, she gave it right back.

But now I’ve got this wild energy thrumming beneath my skin.

Anticipation.

Hunger.

A primal sense of rightness.

And underneath it all, this weird little flutter I can’t shake.

Nervousness.

Imagine that.

Nervous.

Me. The big bad Bull.

The one who’s fought off wild predators, rival Shifters, and inner demons the size of houses.

And here I am, standing in the barn pretending to care about haystacks and the current state of the northern cornfield, while my heart’s still back there in bed with her.

Just waiting for the moment I can go back and feed her, hold her, kiss her, worship her.

She’s not just some fleeting heat.

She’s not a mistake.

She’s mine.

And that— that terrifying, thrilling realization —might just be the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me.

But all my musings and over analyzing are interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“So. A mate, huh?”

I stop stacking bales of hay inside the dairy barn and turn towards the sound of my Alpha’s voice.

Only, it isn’t just Max.

It’s all of them.

The entire Crew.

Every last loner, misfit, and last chancer living on the Motley Crewd Ranch.

I remove my gloves and slap them together, facing the crowd.

“Look, I know we’re supposed to ask or some shit, but it just happened,” I explain, ready for Max’s explosion.

Only the former millionaire playboy Maximillian Leeds doesn’t yell.

This Jersey Devil doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t do a damn thing.

He just stands there, with his hands on his buckle, and he waits.

“So, where’d you meet?” Emmet asks, voice low but steady.

He leans back against the barn post, arms crossed, eyes watchful in that quiet-Beta-who-could-still-kick-your-ass kind of way.

Once upon a time, Emmet was the kind of Wolf you didn’t approach unless you had a death wish and a silver dagger in hand.

Not that silver mattered, but that isn’t even the point.

The point is, ever since he found and claimed his mate, he’s been different .

Not soft.

Just less growly.

Still dangerous, but with his fangs tucked away most of the time.

I scratch at the back of my neck and shrug, pretending this conversation isn’t making my Bull twitch.

“I met her at the rodeo last month. Right before you came to get me.”

I don’t mean for it to come out like that— casual, like it didn’t shake my world to its foundation —but there it is.

Lightning struck hard and fast. It can make you gasp and leave a mark, and that’s exactly what meeting Arliss did to me.

She changes everything.

And I should be glad, but I’m too angsty for that.

Do I deserve her? Fuck no.

But I can’t even picture myself before her.

Before knowing her.

Touching her.

Before her smile carved itself into my bone s.

Zeke snorts from where he’s perched, his back to one of the hay bales, eyes narrowed to slits. The Dragon lingers just beneath his skin, glowing in the edges of those strange, elongated purple eyes.

Gives my Bull the fucking shivers.

“You meet and fuck women all the time, bro. What makes this one different?”

The words are sharp, bitter, laced with venom and something older.

And for a split second, I see red.

I see his face under my fist.

My Bull snarls inside me, stomping the earth of my soul, begging me to defend her.

Because insult a Shifter’s mate, and you’re just begging for a bloody mouth and a broken ribcage.

But then I catch the flicker of something behind Zeke’s words.

Not mockery.

Not jealousy.

Pain.

Raw and bleeding.

And it shakes me.

Because I’ve read the legends.

I’ve studied the old lore, digging through the scraps of myth while searching for others like me. And along the way, I found things about Dragons too.

Zeke doesn’t just want a mate.

He needs her.

Without his rose , a Dragon will start to wither, slowly, painfully. Really fucking painfully. He will burn from the inside out until all that power and heat and glory turns to dust.

So no.

I don’t hit him.

Even though I want to.

Even though the taste of his words still burns like acid in my mouth.

Instead, I take a breath.

Let her scent ground me.

It’s all soft and light, wildflowers mixed with something warm and heady, and it is undeniably Arliss.

She’s clinging to my skin even when she’s not here.

And it reminds me how fucking lucky I am.

So when I speak, I keep it low. Measured. But there’s no mistaking the edge beneath it.

“I’m only gonna say this once.”

Zeke lifts a brow. Emmet tenses. Max doesn’t move, but I can feel his Alpha gaze sharpen.

“No one who came before matters.”

I glance around the room, making sure they all hear me.

“There is only Arliss.”

My voice dips into something darker, deeper, as my Bull stirs behind my ribs.

“And just FYI, my Bull is mighty protective. So I wouldn’t talk about her in any way that might be viewed as disrespectful.”

Zeke holds my stare for a beat too long, his jaw flexing. But then he looks away, and I know he heard me.

Understood me.

Maybe even respected me.

“Alright, easy,” Max interjects, and this time his voice carries that Alpha thrum, that subtle vibration that’s not quite a command but sure as hell isn't a suggestion either.

The air settles.

My fists unclench.

But my heart?

Still hammering .

Because yeah, I’ve had flings.

I’ve had nights that started and ended in someone else’s sheets. But none of them ever made me feel like this.

None of them ever looked at me the way she does. Like maybe, just maybe, there’s more to me than my past and the beast beneath my skin.

Maybe she can keep the Rut from consuming me. From turning me into a mindless beast hellbent on breeding.

Fear makes me sweat as I think of the implications. As I start to imagine the pure fucking horror of turning into my sire.

“What is it?” Max asks, his voice low, steady.

But I feel the weight of his concern like a damn blanket soaked in lead, pressing down on my chest.

“Nothing.”

The lie tastes bitter in my mouth.

“Lie,” Dante grunts, sharp and immediate.

And yeah. He’s right.

I’m lying.

But I don’t know if I can tell them the truth.

You can. Trust them, my Bull insists.

And for the first time in my life, I throw caution to the wind, and I tell them every fucking thing that has scared me since I was old enough to understand just what I am.

Broken. Monster. Unworthy.