Page 5

T he second the truck crunches over the gravel drive, my Dragon starts pacing in my chest like a caged animal about to taste freedom.

The main house comes into view, rising up at the end of the gravel drive like a sentinel watching over the land.

Bigger than most people expect, it’s got this rugged, weathered charm to it. A long wraparound porch, aged cedar siding, roof patched in places from storms past, it might look a little country, but damn if it isn’t sturdy.

Proud, even.

Like it knows it’s survived and doesn’t need to prove a damn thing.

Max made some upgrades here and there. Installed better insulation, got a new roof, added a second-story balcony for Penny to read on when the weather’s nice—but nothing that took away from the soul of the place.

Just made it stronger. That’s kind of his thing.

Max Leeds, Alpha of our Motley Crewd. One of the few men I’d willingly follow into a fight. The guy’s a Jersey Devil.

Yeah, those Jersey Devils.

I didn’t even know they were real until I met him. Thought they were a local cryptid myth people used to scare tourists.

Then he showed up.

Now he’s mated to Penny, sweet as pie but tough as nails, and they’ve got a pair of twins, Melissa and Matthew , who shift between Devil and human with the kind of chaos only magical babies can pull off.

They’re growing at twice the rate of human offspring. Which means twice the mischief in half the time.

If I had a dollar for every time those two somehow managed to magic a couple of Jed’s prized goats into their nursery? I could buy myself a second ranch.

And that’s not even the half of it.

Dante? Grizzly Bear Shifter. Rosie too. That’s his and Avery’s first cub, and yeah, she prefers to stay fuzzy these days.

Avery’s expecting another, and judging by the size of that baby bump, the new kid might come out already Shifting.

Kian’s a Bull Shifter. The big, bodacious bovine is recently mated, and surprisingly into sourdough starters. Don’t ask.

Emmet? That guy’s part Hellhound, part Wolf Shifter. Walks around like a nightmare waiting to happen.

But the minute Jezebel, his mate , walks into a room, he’s nothing but a puppy with murder in his eyes for anyone who so much as looks at her wrong.

Jezebel is a Psychic Medium with a side gig in Necromancy. She’s still figuring that part out. Let’s just say the chickens won’t go near her.

Then there’s Jedediah.

Old man came with the property. Prairie Dog Shifter. Sleeps in dirt, talks to goats, swears up and down the land’s got a heartbeat.

Actually, he might be right about that.

He’s got this way with the animals, especially the goats.

Dolly’s Dairy Products , his pride and joy, is single-handedly putting us on the local map with award-winning cheeses and probiotic yogurts that actually don’t taste like death.

Everyone’s got their place. Their role. Their person.

The ranch may be chaotic as hell on paper, but somehow it all works.

It’s a patchwork quilt of the supernatural and the strange, stitched together with stubbornness and just enough loyalty to keep it from unraveling.

And then there’s me.

Zeke Gordon.

Lone Dragon.

A ticking time bomb with a withering Rose tattooed over my heart and a fire in my chest that’s fading more every day.

I’ve tried to fit in. Tried to make this place feel like more than just a place to wait out my final burnout.

But the truth is, it’s hard to put down roots when you’re living on borrowed time.

With my Rose doomed to remain unblooming , I’d accepted it.

My mate wasn’t coming.

And when a Dragon’s Rose dies, so does the Dragon.

I thought I’d made peace with it.

Figured I’d go out helping the ranch, making sure the others had their happy endings.

But then this happened. I mean, this, like as in right now.

It’s her.

Casey.

Sharp-tongued.

Soft around the edges.

Laugh like whiskey and honey.

And the second I saw her again— really saw her —my fire flared like it remembered what it was for. All my hesitations and denials turned to ash.

I should be cautious. Guarded.

But something dangerous is blooming beneath my ribs, fast and reckless.

Hope.

Hope for a future I stopped believing in a long time ago.

And gods help me, I want to believe in it again.

I try to keep my chill in place as I continue down the road until we start to pass the cabins taken by the other Crew members.

Dante’s is second to last. After Emmet’s and Kian’s. Before mine.

But I can see it from here.

My cabin. Home.

Usually the sight settles me.

Not today.

Because she’s in my passenger seat.

Casey.

And instead of bringing her straight to my cabin like I want to, I have to force myself to slow in front of the fucking Grizzly Bear’s house.

My body has been on high alert since the moment she opened that damn door and looked at me like she didn’t know she was mine.

I throw the truck into park, cutting the engine. I’m stupidly angry that I have to stop at Dante and Avery’s place instead of bringing her right to mine.

“We’re here.”

She blinks out the window, eyebrows rising as she takes in the ranch.

“Wow. Okay. This is so not what I pictured when Avery said ranch. I thought more, I don’t know, like more cows and tractors. Less Yellowstone vibes.”

I grunt, fighting the twitch of my lips. I want to smile. I want to do a lot of things.

But I can’t.

I’m barely holding it together.

She unbuckles her seatbelt, and the sound snaps through me like a whip.

Every tiny thing she does— the way her fingers fidget on the buckle, the curve of her neck, the scent of wildflowers and spring rain clinging to her skin —it’s all too much.

“Let me get your bag,” I manage to say, slipping out of the truck like I’m not seconds from dragging her into the nearest barn and marking her like a damn beast.

Control, Zeke.

Keep your shit together.

I round the back and yank her suitcase free from the truck bed.

She’s already hopping down, sneakers hitting the dirt with a little bounce.

The way her rounded hips move when she straightens?

Fuck. Yeah. My Dragon growls.

“Thanks,” she says, brushing her hands down her jeans and walking around to take the handle from me.

I don't let go.

She grabs it, our fingers brushing— bare skin to bare skin —and the world tilts.

White-hot heat explodes from that point of contact and rips through my chest. My knees damn near buckle.

She gasps, wide-eyed. “What was that? Like static electricity?”

“No,” I say hoarsely, voice thick and low. “That was something else.”

It’s not the whole truth, but it’s not a lie, either.

The Dragon inside me roars.

Mate. Ours. Touch her again.

I take a step back.

I have to.

Because if I don’t, I’ll pull her against me and kiss the breath from her mouth, the kind of kiss that claims, that marks, that says mine in every language that’s ever existed.

Es meus .

My Dragon grumbles the words in the language of my kind.

Fuck. She really is the one.

Her eyes are on me, chest rising and falling fast.

She felt it. I know she did. Even though she doesn’t know what it even is.

“Okay,” she says finally, like she’s trying to convince herself it meant nothing. “So, that wasn’t weird at all.”

“Not weird,” I rasp. “Just destiny.”

She blinks. “Come again?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. Come on. I’ll carry this to your room.”

Because if I stand here another second, I’ll forget myself and the tiny little fact that she has no idea who or what I am.

I’ll forget she’s human.

Hell, I’ll forget everything except the fire in my blood screaming for her.

She trails behind me, quiet for once, and I swear the air between us is thick enough to cut with a knife.

One touch.

That’s all it took.

And now there’s no going back for either of us.

Es meus.