Page 21

M ind-blowing magical sex notwithstanding, waking up from my post-coital nap to a feeling of intense, searing pain on my chest isn’t exactly funsies.

Like, not at all.

“OW!” I shout, bolting upright in the bed like I’ve just been branded.

The pain is white-hot, blooming beneath my left collarbone and radiating outward like fire on my skin.

“Casey?” Zeke’s voice is immediate, panicked.

He’s up and next to me in an instant, crouching beside the bed like some kind of half-naked cowboy superhero. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Burns,” I groan, clutching my chest. “It burns! I feel like someone pressed a curling iron to my boob!”

He winces, visibly trying not to laugh, and then his expression changes.

Grows serious.

Reverent.

“Let me see, Petals,” he murmurs, gently peeling my trembling hand away.

And there it is.

On my skin, still glowing faintly, is a mark.

Not a bruise.

Not a rash.

A mark— etched in swirling lines of ember and ash, shaped like a rose unfurling in fire.

“What the hell?” My breath stutters.

Zeke doesn’t answer. He just stares. First at me, then at his own chest.

He grimaces and I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

I follow his gaze and see his tattoo. It’s glowing, too.

The thorny rose ink over his heart pulses in tandem with mine. And it—it’s growing.

Blooming.

And I mean, wow, it is so beautiful.

“Hey, your tattoo?—”

“It’s not really a tattoo,” he says, voice low and careful.

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“It’s my Dragon’s Rose. And now, uh, you have one, too.”

I can’t think. Can’t breathe.

I mean, it’s one thing to get caught up in the whole “hey, I’m a Dragon” thing during sex.

In the heat of the moment— with hormones high, skin flushed, and his mouth doing unspeakably talented things —it felt fine .

Even hot.

Like, of course, the man who could kiss me into another dimension might also be a mythical creature. That tracks.

But now? In the cold light of after ?

When I’m staring at a glowing rose mark on my chest that wasn’t there yesterday?

I feel kind of crazy.

Like, legit might need a CAT scan kind of crazy.

Because how else do you process the fact that your weekend rebound is not only a cowboy with the body of a Greek statue and the stamina of a marathon runner, but also apparently a fire-breathing apex predator who imprinted on you like some sort of magical soul mate?

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

This is not how normal people’s summer break stories begin.

“So, let me get this straight,” I begin, trying not to freak the fuck out.

Oops. Too late.

“You gave me a magical tramp stamp over my heart?”

He lets out a surprised bark of laughter.

“No! I mean, well, not exactly. It’s more like a mating mark. A soul bond.”

“Oh my God.” I feel faint. “You soul-bonded me during sex?”

“I— we —we didn’t know it would trigger that now,” he stammers, reaching for me. “It only happens when the bond is real. When the match is truly fated. It’s sacred, Petals. You and me? We’re destiny.”

I don’t even register the tenderness in his voice.

I’m up and off the bed in a flash, wrapping the sheet around myself like a shield.

“You’re telling me this, this not tattoo that burned into my chest means I’m what? Like your property or something?!”

“No! Not my property. My mate,” he says, his perfectly arched eyebrows raised high and I’m starting to hate how perfectly gorgeous he is.

“Mate? Like some kind of mystical supernatural WIFE?!”

Zeke stands, fully naked, fully massive, and fully not helping my brain settle.

“Yes. And no. It’s more than that. You’re my fated mate. This rose means you share in my fire now. My life. My strength.”

“Your fire?! YOUR LIFE?! What does that mean?”

Okay. Cue the total fucking freak out.

“Look, sit down, we’ll talk?—”

I shake my head cause first, he’s naked. If I get near him. I am jumping on him, which means no talking will happen.

When did I become such a horn dog?

“Um, part of the residual effect of early mating. We’re gonna wanna stay in bed for a bit,” he says with a cocky grin.

Bastard.

“Oh no. Nope. Absolutely not. We need to talk, not boink like bunnies,” I mumble, stumbling toward the bathroom.

“Bunnies? Casey! Wait a second,” he tries again.

And I know I’m being unreasonable, but can you blame me? Plus, I can’t stop it now if I tried.

Once I spiral, it’s typically best to wait it out.

“Nope. Not gonna happen. This is obviously a psychotic break. I'm hallucinating. That was just really good sex, and I had a spicy dream after reading those paranormal romance books Avery loaned me.”

“What books? Come on, Petals. Just hang on?—”

But I’m already slamming the door shut and twisting the lock, heart jack hammering in my chest.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

I stare at myself in the mirror.

The glowing rose mark is fading to a silvery outline now, still warm but no longer searing.

My skin doesn’t look damaged.

It actually looks kind of beautiful ?

NOPE.

I don’t know how long I’m sitting there, but a knock at the bathroom door jerks me out of my spiral.

“Casey? It’s Avery. Open up, honey.”

I press my forehead to the cool tile and groan.

“No.”

“Zeke’s not here.”

“He’s not?” I ask, and for some reason my heart hurts at that news.

“Don’t panic. He stepped out with Dante for a minute. He’s just trying to give you some space,” she says.

“Fine. But I am going to kill you for not warning me that your ranch is some kind of supernatural Love Island.”

Behind her, I hear Jez and Arliss giggling.

“L ook,” Avery says gently, like I’m some kind of spooked animal, “I know this is a lot. I freaked out too. We all did, at first. But you’re not alone. We’re here. And believe it or not? This thing with Zeke? It’s real. And it’s good.”

Her voice is calm and steady, like a balm I didn’t know I needed. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to stop the flood of feelings surging up from somewhere deep inside me.

My heart’s still racing. There’s a sheen of sweat on the back of my neck, and my fingers twitch like I’m one bad thought away from bolting.

But underneath all that panic, underneath the fear that I’ve somehow stepped straight into the plot of a supernatural soap opera, there’s something else.

Something quieter.

Something dangerously close to hope.

Something I don’t want to name yet.

Something I can’t name yet.

Because if I call it love and I’m wrong?

If this isn’t what I think it is?

It would break me.

But even still—it feels like the start of something.

Not just new. Everything.

I take a deep breath, stand on legs that feel like Jell-O, and slowly open the bathroom door.

There they are— Avery, Jezebel, Penny, and Arliss —all standing in the bedroom where Zeke recently rocked my entire world.

Their eyes are so full of sympathy and this terrifying, wonderful thing called understanding.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, I’m not running.

I’m facing it.

No, I didn’t believe in fairytales before I came to the Motley Crewd Ranch.

I’ve always thought those kinds of stories were mostly dark and scary underneath the glitter and gowns.

And maybe they are.

But maybe that’s the point.

Maybe the beauty only matters because of the dark.

I want to believe. In the magic. In this place.

And in him.

Because every time I’ve visited, I’ve felt something strange and ancient in the bones of this land.

Something powerful. Sacred, even.

I used to think it was the air. The quiet. The wildness of it.

But now I’m starting to think it’s not the land at all.

It’s them.

These women.

These men.

This found family that doesn’t just let you in— they pull you in.

And once you’re in, you’re one of them.

Looking at the four women in front of me, each of them so different, but so perfect for this place and each other. Somehow, this is exactly what I need.

And I realize something else.

I came here to hide. To get away. To escape from my past.

That’s all true.

But I think I found something else instead.

I think I found home.