Page 4 of Must Love Dragons (Sable Cove #4)

Zay’s instincts were screaming at him to get up and leave, but his body was not cooperating.

And the worst possible thing to come out of all this?

The witch declared to her friend that he was her truemate.

And his damn dragon was purring like a kitten in his head.

Absolutely-fucking-not.

The female reached for him, and he bared his fangs, trying to stifle a groan of pain from his injuries.

The fall hadn’t killed him—dragons were notoriously hard to kill—but whatever the warlock had done to him had incapacitated him in a terrible way.

Not only did half his body feel like it was on fire, but he wasn’t healing.

And he was wildly attracted to the witch.

Chestnut-haired goddess with the most enchanting emerald eyes set in a stunning face surely carved by the gods themselves.

Ugh, focus!

“Listen, dragon boy,” she said, planting her hands on her hips with a huff, “you’re not going to keep snapping at me like a psychotic alligator. I’m trying to help you , so get over whatever issue you have with me being a witch, and let me get you to safety inside the rescue.”

He ground his teeth together as a wave of pain nearly made him pass out.

“You don’t like witches?” the other one asked him. “What the hell is your problem?”

“I don’t have to answer you,” he said.

The enchanting female arched a brow. “My name is Kinsley and this is my best friend Delaney. We run a rescue for familiars. There are protection wards around the yard but not in the trees here, so whoever hurt you could still get to you. Let me help you into the rescue so I can tend to your wounds. And also get you some clothes.”

She’d been giving him hard eye contact, and while her coat with her delicious scent was covering his nether parts, she’d clearly gotten an eyeful and was trying to give him some semblance of privacy.

And that was not endearing in the slightest.

“Fine,” he said. “But keep your magic to yourself.”

“If a magical being hurt you, only magic can heal you,” Delaney pointed out.

He ignored the other female and focused on Kinsley.

He needed to get away from her before his dragon talked him into finding out what she looked like underneath the thick sweater. She looked like she had curves for days and his hands were actually aching to hold her.

He one hundred percent did not accept that she was his truemate.

In an act of pure defiance—or tomfoolery—he forced himself to sit up, every muscle screaming in protest. His vision went wonky as he sat up, heat surging through his body, his skin burning where the warlock’s magic had hit him.

As his vision went dark at the edges and spots danced in his periphery, he clenched his jaw and pushed through it.

No way in hell was he going to pass out again, not in front of a damn witch.

And his dragon wasn’t helping him get away from her in the slightest.

On the contrary, it was purring again, happy and comfortable, like they hadn’t just crashed, half-dead in a strange place. The worst part? The beast wanted to be close to her, to lean into her warmth, and not get the hell away from it.

Traitor.

She moved toward him again and he flinched back instinctively, which made a fresh lance of pain shoot through him.

“You’re really bad at accepting help,” she said with a wry tone.

“And you’re really bad at minding your own business,” he retorted.

He cursed under his breath at the weakness that was numbing his body and making it impossible for him to simply shift and fly away.

She reached out a hand again and he stared at it. She was certainly determined to help him.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I already said that. Now at least tell me your name.”

Her friend handed over a blanket and she draped it over his shoulders, and as she leaned over him, he got another whiff of her scent, all sweet chocolate and ripe strawberries.

“Zay,” he answered finally, as he fiddled with the blanket and covered himself, handing her back her coat. She put it on and hummed, her eyes darkening slightly, and he wondered if she liked how he smelled.

Not that he cared, of course.

He didn’t want to lean on her, but he couldn’t get up onto his feet without help.

She pulled him to his feet, and the moment he put weight on his legs, his knees buckled.

A sharp growl tore from his throat as pain lanced through his side, burning from the inside out like wildfire licking at his bones.

He braced for the impact with the ground, only to find himself caught by something warm, soft, and surprisingly strong.

Kinsley.

His arm had instinctively looped around her shoulders, his fingers gripping the thick fabric of her coat as she steadied him with a grunt.

“Whoa,” she huffed out, adjusting her stance to take more of his weight. “You’re like a furnace.”

Her impossibly sweet scent was utterly intoxicating and wrapped around him. His dragon hummed, pressing against his mind with a deep growl of satisfaction, reveling in how close they were to the beautiful female.

Zay, on the other hand, positively hated everything about this situation.

His jaw clenched as he tried to straighten, but his body was not on board with that decision. After taking another step, he listed sideways and was forced to press even closer to her, their sides touching, her curves molding against him.

Shit.

A shudder wove through him, and it was not entirely related to the pain.

“You’re so freaking stubborn,” she muttered, her breath warm against his skin. “Just lean on me already. I’m not impressed with you trying to get yourself mobile when you should be dead after a fall from the sky like that, not to mention the dark magic that’s clearly still wreaking havoc on you.”

He growled in frustration. “I don’t need?—"

“Clearly you do,” she interrupted, tightening her hold on his waist and forcing him forward toward the rescue. Whenever she touched him, his skin tingled.

Was that her magic?

His dragon was doing somersaults in his head.

He inhaled slowly through gritted teeth, refusing to acknowledge how his instincts were screaming for him to pull her even closer, to trust her, to let her take care of him.

But he couldn’t.

Magic users were bad.

He’d seen evidence of that in person and still bore the scars from the warlock’s attack.

Dark magic, good magic—it was all the same.

Bad.

And it was just fate’s terrible sense of humor that would try to match him with a magic user. He did not accept it in the slightest and this Kinsley female could just fuck all the way off.

Once he could figure out how to shift and get the hell away from her.

He tried to take a few steps but stumbled and needed to lean heavily on her. She squeaked under his weight but kept them both upright and he did not admire her tenacity. His dragon rumbled in approval.

He tried to protest he could get to the building on his own, but she scoffed and told him he was being an idiot.

And perhaps he was. He hated that he needed help, hated that his dragon liked her, and mostly hated that his body absolutely enjoyed having her plastered against his side.

Delaney rushed ahead and opened a Dutch door. He saw several cats and could feel the pulse of magic in the air as Kinsley helped him across the threshold.

His whole body ached with a new, fresh wave of pain that made his vision blur and his ears ring. He’d never been so hurt in his entire life and that included the battle that nearly killed him.

His thoughts flitted to his uncle, wondering if he was okay, and where those warlocks had taken him.

But then his legs gave out a second time, and he hit the floor with a groan.

Kinsley shouted his name, trying to keep him from face-planting, but it was useless. His body was not working, and the magic was doing whatever warlock magic did to dragons.

He tried to tell her that he’d been attacked by a warlock, but he couldn’t speak.

She called his name again and then told her friend to get help.

The last thought he had was that his damn dragon was purring again, very certain that Kinsley was going to help them, and they’d get to spend more time with her.

They were dying and his dragon was one hundred percent content.

But Zay? He was one thousand percent not okay with any of this.

As darkness swamped him once more, he could only hope that the female who called to his dragon would actually help him and not kill him while he was vulnerable.

What a strange and wholly unacceptable turn of events.