Page 3

TWO

ASHER

A sher Ectorius glared at the thick binder opened before him, its pages spilling with color-coded tabs, half-formed plans, and chicken-scratch notes that looked more like ancient hieroglyphs than actual planning.

He ran his hand through his dark brown hair, his muscles tensing under his crisp white button-down shirt.

His dragon stirred within him, equally frustrated.

"Two days," he muttered, leaning back in his leather chair. "Two damn days to pull together a festival that should have been planned months ago."

His spacious office—an elegant room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the grounds of his ancestral mansion—felt suddenly confining.

The morning sunlight streamed in, illuminating the disaster zone his mahogany desk had become.

The Founders Festival planning had turned into a catastrophe of his own making, his natural tendency to procrastinate finally catching up with him.

The dragon within him rumbled with discontent. As Alpha, leadership came naturally to Asher—in battle, in business decisions, and in moments requiring swift action. But the meticulous organization of community celebrations? His inner fire wanted to incinerate the binder entirely.

"Maybe if I just canceled the whole thing..." he mused, knowing full well he couldn't. The Founders Festival was the highlight of Ectorius's social calendar—a celebration of their dragon ancestors who'd established this hidden sanctuary. Canceling would be an admission of failure.

His advisory council's words echoed in his mind: "An Alpha's mate traditionally oversees these affairs... but since you've shown no interest in finding yours..."

The implication being that he was shirking his duties by remaining single. As if finding a mate was as simple as ordering takeout.

"It would be easier if I could just order in a mate who could deal with this mess," he grumbled, flipping a page covered with vendor quotes that might as well have been written in Sanskrit.

A soft knock drew his attention to the doorway. Asher's head snapped up, his green eyes narrowing before widening in surprise.

Gerri Wilder stood there, a vision in a lime-green designer suit that should have looked ridiculous on anyone else but somehow suited her petite frame perfectly. Her white bob gleamed in the morning light, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Problems with event planning, Mr. Mayor?" Her voice held a musical lilt that belied the knowing look in her eyes.

Asher's heart lurched with unexpected hope. Gerri's reputation preceded her—not just as matchmaker extraordinaire, but as the architect of legendary gatherings across the paranormal community.

"Are you here to help me?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them, revealing a desperation he rarely allowed anyone to see.

Gerri's laugh tinkled through the room like wind chimes. "In a way. I'm here to give you exactly what you're looking for."

Asher's dragon perked up, intrigued by the double meaning that hung in her words.

"You look like a man who's spent too many hours chained to that desk." Gerri gestured to the door with a manicured hand. "Let's walk. The festival grounds need inspecting anyway, don't they?"

Ten minutes later, they strolled down Main Street, the morning sun warming Asher's shoulders. He'd discarded his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves to expose forearms corded with muscle. The change of scenery already cleared his head, his dragon settling into a contented rumble.

"Morning, Mayor!" Mrs. Finch called from her porch, struggling with several grocery bags.

Without hesitation, Asher jogged across the street. "Let me get those for you, Eleanor." He relieved the elderly dragon shifter of her burden, easily carrying what had caused her to struggle. "How's that hip doing?"

"Better since you arranged for that specialist from Atlanta." She patted his arm affectionately. "Will you be lighting the ancestral flame at the festival?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Asher replied, carrying her groceries inside and setting them on her counter with gentle precision.

Back on the street, Gerri observed him with those all-seeing eyes. "The people sure love their Alpha."

"They deserve nothing less than my full attention." Asher nodded to the baker, who was arranging fresh pastries in his window display. "Though at the moment, my attention is split between festival details I have no clue how to handle and my daily duties."

"What you need is someone who can transform chaos into order." Gerri's eyes flickered gold for the briefest moment. "Someone who complements your visionary nature with practical execution."

Asher snorted. "You offering to take over the planning, Gerri? Because I'd happily make a substantial donation to any charity of your choice if you do."

"I don't do event planning anymore." She smiled enigmatically. "But I excel at matching people with exactly what—or who—they need."

They paused at the town square, where scattered, half-assembled booths stood. Asher surveyed the scene, envisioning what it could be—strings of lights across the walkways, the scent of traditional dragon-spiced foods, and music and laughter filling the air.

"I can see it all in my head," he admitted, gesturing broadly. "But getting from this mess to that vision..."

"Requires someone who speaks both languages—the language of dreams and the language of details.

" Gerri stopped walking, fixing him with a penetrating stare.

"Tell me, Asher, what would you give to have this burden lifted?

To have someone who could not only handle this festival but stand beside you in all your duties? "

The questions stirred something primal in him. His dragon surged forward, interested in this conversation in a way Asher hadn't expected.

"I don't need a mate just to plan parties or share my duties," he growled defensively.

"Of course not." Gerri's smile turned knowing. "You need a mate because your soul craves completion. The festival is just... convenient timing."

Asher shifted uncomfortably at Gerri's accurate assessment.

Her words had struck a chord his dragon responded to, even as his human side built defenses.

He'd spent years telling himself he didn't need a mate—that the right match would come along eventually.

Yet here stood Gerri, peeling away his excuses.

"I've managed fine on my own for a long time." His voice emerged deeper than he intended, his inner dragon pushing closer to the surface. "My clutch respects me and the town prospers."

"And yet you stand in half-assembled festival grounds looking like a man who'd rather wrestle an alligator than finish this project." Gerri's lime-green suit caught the morning sun, making her glow with an almost otherworldly light.

Before he could respond, a familiar scent drifted on the breeze—jasmine and amber with an undercurrent of smoke. Dragon smoke. His nostrils flared slightly, his senses immediately identifying the source before his eyes confirmed it.

"Asher Ectorius, as I live and breathe."

The voice washed over him like warm honey—deliberately sweet and practiced.

He turned to find Joni Maples approaching, her long red hair cascading over her shoulders and her body showcasing a form-fitting emerald dress that matched her dragon form perfectly.

The last time he'd seen her, they'd been twenty-two, sharing a dorm room kiss goodbye before she'd headed off to graduate school.

"Joni." He nodded, maintaining his position beside Gerri. "This is unexpected."

Joni glided forward, her movements as fluid as ever. "I've been back for three weeks. Didn't anyone tell you?" Her green eyes flickered briefly toward Gerri before focusing entirely on him. "You've done well for yourself, Alpha."

The title on her lips carried weight—an acknowledgment of how much had changed since they'd dated. Back then, he'd been the heir apparent, not the Alpha who carried responsibility for everyone in Ectorius.

"Thank you." His response was measured and polite. "How was Stanford?"

"Enlightening." Joni moved closer, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulder. "But I missed home. Missed the clutch." Her fingers lingered on his bicep. "Missed certain people."

His dragon stirred, not with interest but with wariness. There was something calculated in her approach that hadn't been there when they were younger.

"The clutch has welcomed you back, I hope." He stepped back casually, creating distance.

"Everyone's been lovely." Joni glanced at their surroundings. "Though I hear the festival planning isn't going smoothly. You know, I organized three charity galas in San Francisco. I'd be happy to help..." She trailed off, her meaning clear.

Gerri made a small noise that might have been a suppressed laugh.

"I appreciate the offer," Asher replied firmly, "but I believe I have things under control."

Joni's smile dimmed slightly. "You know, it's been five years since you accepted your position as Alpha. Most dragons would have chosen a mate by now." Her voice dropped to an intimate whisper. "Maybe what you need is someone who already understands our ways. Someone who already fits."

The boldness of her suggestion caught him off guard. They'd parted amicably a decade ago, both acknowledging they weren't fated mates. Her sudden interest felt wrong—like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong spot.

"I'm not looking for a mate right now, Joni." His voice carried the authority of his position. Not unkind, but final.

"Not looking?" She laughed, a brittle sound. "Or waiting for some sign that might never come?" Her eyes narrowed. "We had something good once. We could have it again—better, even. You need someone who understands what it means to be an Alpha's mate."

"What I need," Asher stated clearly, "is to focus on my town. When my mate appears, I'll know."