Page 8

T he scent of hay and horses calms most people.

For me, it’s second only to when I’m in my scales and flying high above the world.

Maybe I should Shift?

No.

Grrrr.

Fuck no.

My Dragon’s focused on one thing only and I don’t dare give the creature my skin when all he’s thinking about is claiming a certain curvy goddess who’s currently taking up all the available space in my brain.

So, I try to work through it instead.

The barn’s warm, the afternoon sun filtering through the slats, casting golden stripes across the dusty air.

I move slowly through the center aisle, checking on each of the horses, letting my hand trail across their flanks as I go. They snort and nuzzle toward me— some affectionate, some impatient —but none are skittish.

They never are.

Not with me.

Even the high-strung gelding Dante named Cretin, swearing the thing is half feral, leans into my palm like I’ve got some kind of tranquilizer running through my fingertips.

My Dragon’s energy runs hot and wild, but animals don’t fear it.

They recognize it.

Respect it.

And in moments like this— when I’m too human, too raw, too close to falling off the edge of my own instincts —they soothe me as much as I do them.

I murmur softly to the roan in stall four, letting the brush slide gently along her side.

“Easy, girl. You’re alright.”

She whinnies low, and I feel my Dragon settle just a little beneath my skin.

But not much.

Not really.

Not when she’s here. On the ranch. Close, but still so far.

Casey.

Es meus.

Too soft.

Too sweet.

Too human.

And yet every inch of me— bone, blood, fire —wants her.

The kiss shouldn’t have happened.

One touch, one taste, and I lost control like some fresh-shifted teen with his first heat.

I saw her eyes go wide.

Felt her lips part.

Tasted her sweetness on my tongue.

And then that damn look when she glimpsed what I am—what lurks beneath my skin.

She doesn’t know.

I know she doesn’t.

Not about Shifters. Not about fated mates. Not about Dragons.

She’s an innocent.

Too good for my world.

Too soft and pure.

But still, I need her.

How the fuck am I supposed to woo a woman like that? Who doesn’t even know monsters are real, let alone that she’s soul-bound to one?

I run a hand through my hair, gripping the back of my neck until it hurts.

“Zeke,” a voice calls from the barn entrance.

I don’t have to look. I know that voice.

Max.

Alpha of our crew. Jersey Devil. Mate and new father.

Love-struck lucky bastard.

He strolls in like he owns the place— which, technically, he does —but his presence is never heavy.

Not with us. Not with me.

Just steady. Watching. Measuring.

The man has glowing red eyes and if he had a mind to do so, he could unleash claws that could gut a cow, and magic that could turn even my hair gray, but right now, he’s radiating domestic bliss like an Instagram influencer who just discovered puppy yoga and lemon-scented candles.

He leans against a stall post, arms crossed.

“You’re brooding.”

“I’m thinking,” I counter.

“Thinking broodingly, then,” he amends, grinning.

I grunt.

He lets the silence settle for a moment, then pushes off the post and steps up beside me.

He reaches into the feed bucket, pulls out a sugar cube, and offers it to the roan, who takes it with a snort of gratitude.

“Dante texted. So, the girl?”

I stiffen.

“Don’t start.”

“Too late. You kissed her.”

Max grins like the bastard I’m starting to think he is. And suddenly I wonder if Devils taste good barbecued.

“Yeah, well, she was looking at me like I was about to eat her.”

“And were you?” He wags his eyebrows up and down.

“Dammit, Max.”

I’m stuck between moaning at the image of devouring a sweet, curvy Casey, and wanting to roar because I’m not doing that right fucking now.

Max knows it, too. The prick. He just chuckles softly.

“Look, Zeke, you kissed her. She’s still here. That’s something.”

“She doesn’t know what I am. She won’t understand how I feel. Neither do you! I feel fucking?—”

“Out of control? Instantly obsessed? Like you’ll go crazy if you don’t get your hands on her right now?”

Fuck. So maybe he does get it.

“Zeke, if she’s really your fated mate, she’ll understand.”

I shake my head.

“Max, Casey’s a human. She doesn’t have any idea what this world really is. What I am. She probably thinks I’m having a seizure when I growl and I swear she was gonna ask if I was wearing colored contacts cause of my goddamn Dragon eyes.”

Max sobers, his expression going quiet.

“I won’t lie to you. Nothing is guaranteed in this life, bro. You’re right. She might run. But,” he says and leans forward conspiratorially, “she might not.”

He pauses and I’m waiting for him to finish like he’s my last fucking hope.

And really? Maybe he is.

“Love’s a risk, man. It’s scary. Unpredictable. Undeniable. And it will tear your heart right out of your fucking chest. But I can tell you from personal experience, it’s totally fucking worth it.”

“It hurts,” I whisper, like a total fucking pussy.

“If it didn’t hurt, they wouldn’t call it falling, man. Aren’t you old enough to know that?”

I glance at him, brow raised.

“With all due respect, fuck you, Alpha,” I say, but I’m grinning.

He barks back a laugh and slaps my back. Hard.

Fucker.

“You know you sounded like a greeting card just now.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a new dad. I’ve been watching my mate sleep with one of the twins draped across her chest like a cat and the other making cutesy little goo sounds beside them. So, I’m allowed to be soft.”

My jaw clenches.

Envy sneaks up on me like the asshole he is.

Suddenly, I want that image for myself.

Casey asleep warm and snug in our bed.

Our babies. Perfect. Precious. Napping beside her.

Home. Family. Mine. Es meus.

Fuck. Me.

“You think I don’t know what this is doing to you?” he asks, voice low. “I feel it. Your Dragon’s shaking the earth beneath us.”

“She’s it,” I whisper. “I know it. Every part of me does. But I can’t shove this life down her throat. I won’t.”

“Then don’t,” he says. “Give her time. Show her the good in you. The fire and the quiet. Let her choose you, Zeke.”

I look away. “What if she doesn’t? It’ll kill me, Max.”

Max claps a hand to my shoulder, grip firm.

“If she doesn’t, then at least you’ll know you gave her the truth. You didn’t run. You didn’t hide. And you didn’t let fear decide for you.”

His words settle in deep, heavy as stone and just as grounding.

I nod once, slow. “Thanks.”

He steps back, heading for the exit.

“Oh, and Zeke?”

“Yeah?”

“She did kiss you back. Don’t forget that part.”

Then he’s gone.

And I’m left with a stall full of horses and a fire in my chest that refuses to go out.

The sound of Jed herding the goats up to the dairy barn reaches me from outside, and if I close my eyes, I can pick up the snort of Kian’s Bull as he gives Rosie Posie a ride around the pen.

This place? The Motley Crewd Ranch? It’s pure fucking magic.

I’m honored to be here with these men and women— once-upon-a-time last-chancers who found their fated mates and get to live out their happily-ever-afters.

But I’m not like them.

I’m fire and destruction.

Chaos and terror.

Didn’t I prove that when I burned our neighbor’s barn after what they did to Arliss? When I devoured those fucking Bears who came for Dante?

What would a sweet-smelling woman with petal-soft skin, eyes like warm firelight, and a heart so pure it fucking radiates heat want with a wretch like me?

But even as I’m trying to convince myself I’m not enough good for her, my Dragon’s stance on the subject is immovable.

Casey Reynolds is mine.

Es meus.

And I’m not sure there’s anything in the world strong enough to stop me from claiming her.