Page 6 of Must Love Dragons (Sable Cove #4)

Zay woke with a start, his body tensed for battle, his brain full of fog.

The first thing he registered was the scent of salt and herbs, and something sweet but foreign. He stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling.

Hadn’t he been outside?

His dragon rumbled in contentment, completely at ease, which was at odds with how Zay felt.

Torn into pieces by a beautiful witch who absolutely, absolutely , was not his truemate.

The last memory he had was filled with pain. An injury that felt like it was born of fire, warlock magic burning him with every breath.

Gingerly he touched his side and found not the wound that wouldn’t heal, but no wound at all. Smooth, healed skin.

And no pain.

His stomach clenched as he realized that he’d been healed with magic.

He sat up with a snarl and a small, warm weight on his chest let out a disgruntled chirp.

He looked down to find a fluffy tortoiseshell cat sitting on his lap, blinking at him with lazy curiosity. The cat—no, it was a familiar— stretched, kneading the blanket that covered him with dagger claws and purring loudly.

“Get. Off.”

The little creature ignored him, flicking its tail against his arm like it had every right to be there.

His dragon purred back.

He rolled his eyes and nudged the familiar off his lap. It jumped down, landing on the floor and glaring at him before sauntering from the room.

The room he was in appeared to be for storage. There were several credenzas, a messy bookshelf, stacks of boxes, and the couch he was settled on.

He rubbed his arms as his skin prickled in awareness.

There was magic here.

Witches.

His dragon liked this place.

Which made Zay scowl.

He saw his satchel on the floor by the couch and he grabbed it, pulling his phone from inside. Pressing his thumb to the side, he was thankful to see it still had battery life.

The date and time stood out to him.

He’d been gone for twelve hours.

Opening his contacts, he called his sister, even though he suspected she’d be asleep since it was four a.m.

She answered on the third ring. “Zay? Oh my gosh, where have you been?”

“I’m fine, Lyra,” he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair and wishing he was anywhere but with witches.

“You disappeared without a word for…twelve hours, and you’re fine ? Sierra was getting ready to look for you.”

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated. “I got sidetracked.”

“Sidetracked? By what?”

He hesitated, looking toward the doorway. He could feel another presence nearby and he didn’t have to see to know it was her.

Kinsley.

His dragon stirred with a happy rumble and Zay pushed the beast away.

He tilted his head to hold the phone to his shoulder and grabbed his clothes and shoes from the satchel.

He dressed quickly and told Lyra what he’d witnessed before getting hit with whatever magic the warlock had used.

“It was definitely Uncle Rorik though?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I was following his scent, and when I saw the warlocks with him, I got attacked. They were loading him onto a boat, so they could have taken him anywhere.” Once he was dressed, he turned his back to the door and focused on his sister.

“I think the warlocks who destroyed our clan are behind this.”

“Come home, Zay.”

“Not until I find Rorik.”

She let out a worried sigh. “You have to be careful, okay? I can’t lose you and Rorik.”

“I’ll be careful. You make sure that Sierra and Ronan are keeping an eye out for danger. Anyone could be watching.”

“I will. When will you be home?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As the call ended, he let out a grumbling sigh.

Then he was distinctly aware he wasn’t alone.

Turning slowly, he faced Kinsley in the doorway, arms crossed, and an unreadable expression on her beautiful face.

His dragon was an utter traitor. It liked her.

Zay clenched his fists. He wasn’t weak, damn it. He wasn’t going to fall for any of her witchy tricks that would lead him down the road to destruction. Magic users were bad news. He’d seen that up close. Lived it.

And yet… there was warmth in Kinsley’s gaze. A quiet, steady compassion that didn’t fit with what he knew witches and magic users were capable of.

And that warmth? It was gnawing at his defenses like a dog with a bone. If he didn’t get the hell away from her and back to finding his uncle, he was screwed.

* * *

Kinsley was not eavesdropping.

Okay, she was . But in her defense, the man had not been subtle about his dislike of witches, and she figured anything she could learn about him was fair game. She’d known the moment he woke up, there had been some kind of awakening in her, too, a spark in her heart.

Then she listened to him tell his sister about the warlocks and his missing uncle. She’d known who he was talking about because when they’d looked at his phone while he was unconscious, the screen was filled with notifications and one of them had a contact name of: Little Sis Lyra .

She didn’t have the whole story, but she had enough to tell her why he hated magic users.

He’d lost his clan because of warlocks.

He didn’t just have a bad attitude about magic users, he’d been grievously wounded by them. The battle Mother Gibson had mentioned may very well have been his clan’s story.

How awful.

She knew what it was like to lose people, to have the world change in a heartbeat.

When he’d ended the call, she approached the room but stopped in the doorway. He’d done nothing but try to get away from her, snapping and snarling despite her wanting to help. But he was her truemate whether he wanted her or not, and she was going to let him know he wasn’t alone.

He’d dressed while on the phone with his sister, his slim hips encased in tight jeans, a flannel over a T-shirt hugged his muscles, making it seem like he was one good flex away from being naked again.

His jet-black hair, still slightly mussed, curled at the ends, the kind of effortless dishevelment that made her fingers itch to find out how soft it was.

Blue eyes, sharp and dark with frustration, locked onto her as he slowly, deliberately turned toward her.

His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking beneath the shadow of stubble that only made him look more dangerously appealing.

And that glower! Dark, smoldering, entirely too gorgeous – made her pulse thunder.

Her heart positively ached right now, but she pushed on.

“I can help,” she said.

His upper lip curled like she’d told him Brussels sprouts and liver were on the menu for dinner. “I don’t need your help, witch.”

Damn, he was infuriating.

“I am a witch. I can’t change that, and I wouldn’t want to even if I could. Just like you’re a dragon. You don’t have to like that I’m a witch, but if those warlocks are out there, you won’t get far on your own.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.” He took a menacing step toward her but she remained in place, unfazed by his show of anger.

“I know that the magic that you were attacked with was dark. Very dark. The warlock essentially left a piece of himself in your wound, which prevented you from healing and allowed you to be tracked. We haven’t seen evidence of any warlocks around here, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know where you are.

You might be a big dragon, but dark magic users are dangerous on a level you couldn’t possibly imagine. ”

“I think I can imagine just fine,” he bit out. Then he slashed a hand through the air. “Why the hell would you want to help me anyway?”

She hesitated. He had to know they were truemates, so was he baiting her?

Well, she wasn’t going to bite on that damn hook, not right now.

“Because it’s the right thing to do. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because magic users always have an angle.”

She wanted to tell him that he was wrong because while dark magic users might only be looking for what could benefit them, she was a good magic user, and she’d been born to help others. Her protective magic specialty was made for situations like this.

Nysa meowed suddenly, appearing next to Kinsley.

She smiled down at her familiar and then looked at Zay.

“I heard what you said to your sister. If the warlocks who took your uncle are in the area, we need to find them before they find you.”

Something flickered in his gaze, a hint of hesitation before he clenched his jaw so hard a muscle ticked.

“Kinsley,” he said, testing her name like he wasn’t sure how it felt to say it.

A spark shot through her.

Hells bells she liked it when he said her name.

“I can track your uncle. We can go to the marina and see if anything turns up. I’ve got protection wards that will keep us safe while we’re searching. You’d be a fool to go alone when I’m offering to help.”

He stared at her. The tension in the air was as thick as fog.

She desperately wanted to close the distance between them and just touch him. She was pretty sure he could use a hug.

Even from a witch.

For a moment she thought he’d accept her help, but then he tilted his chin with a glare. “No.”

“No?” she asked, incredulously.

“I’ll find him on my own.”

“You’re an idiot. You might be healed but their magic took you down once and it will do it again.

Your scales didn’t protect you the first time, why would you think you have a snowball’s chance in hell of succeeding against them?

I don’t know why they took your uncle, but I can guess that it’s because of his blood, and they need it for rituals.

And you’re planning to waltz right into their midst and…

what? Offer your blood to them? Are you insane ?

” She was aware her voice was getting higher and louder as she walked into the room, ending up toe to toe with him.

He was a foot taller than her.

And so damn imposing.

But she didn’t back down, she poked him in the chest. “You didn’t even say thank you!

I saved your life, Zay. I freaking saved you from slowly burning to death with dark magic.

And news flash, I’ve kept you safe while you healed.

If I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t have saved you.

And I certainly wouldn’t have brought you into the rescue, gathered my friends, and healed you. ”

He growled, low and dangerous, and her skin prickled.

That was a nice sound.

His dragon rumbled in his chest, a deep purring sound. His eyes flashed, the pupils elongating for a heartbeat, and then they returned to the beautiful sapphire.

Her heart pounded as she stared up at him, refusing to look away.

He was so freaking intense it was like trying to look at the sun.

With a sharp exhale, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me get it.”

“I don’t need a witch watching my back.”

She snorted. “Right. Because it worked so well for you to be on your own last time.”

His nostrils flared and for a second she thought he’d just push her aside and leave, telling her to go to hell in the process. But instead, he turned and paced away from her, a predator trapped in the room.

As she watched him pace, she saw what he was trying to hide from her.

He was afraid. Not for himself, she didn’t think, but for his family. For the uncle who’d been taken, for his sister, and the other members of his clan.

Letting some of the anger out of her tone, she said, “You don’t trust me, but I’m not asking for you to trust me. I’m asking you to use your damn brain and let me help you.”

He stopped pacing and looked at her; his eyes narrowed, and his gaze accused her of having an angle .

“Dark magic users are dangerous. They might be after your clan, but they’re flat-out, end-the-world dangerous to everyone . Like it or not, I’m the only one who can help you. My magic can help.”

He growled and then cursed under his breath. After what felt like an eternity, he finally muttered, “Fine.”

She almost danced a jig.

Stupid, stubborn male.

Before she could celebrate her victory, he stepped closer—too close—until he invaded her space with his warmth and scent, making it hard for her to think.

He smelled like the sky after a storm, like dark nights and starlight.

“I don’t like this,” he said with a low, rough voice. “And I don’t trust you.”

“Noted.”

“If you screw me over?—"

“Then you’ll what? Be more of an ass?”

He growled, but it morphed into what sounded like a purr.

His dragon liked her, that much she was sure of. And it made her smile.

This was going to be fun .