Chapter 1
Ali
Ali Franklyn had photographed a lot of weird shit in her career, but the dragon running a truck stop diner while wearing a frilly apron took the cake.
"You here about Big Timber?"Bertha asked, not looking up from the grill where she was flipping what appeared to be mammoth-sized pancakes.Smoke curled from her nostrils with each breath, giving the whole place an oddly cozy barbecue scent.
"Maybe."Ali adjusted her camera strap and surveyed Moonbeam's Truck Stop.The place buzzed with an energy.Her witch senses hummed.The place wasn’t dangerous, just...supernatural as hell.A dryad waitress named Maple glided between tables, her bark-textured skin gleaming under the fluorescent lights.In one corner booth, a massive werewolf in flannel was arm-wrestling what looked like a minotaur while a small crowd of truckers placed bets.
This was exactly the kind of authentic supernatural community her editor claimed didn't exist."Find me real stories, Ali, not Instagram witches brewing love potions in their kitchen," he'd said."Give me truckers, construction workers, people with actual jobs."
Well, here they were.And they were all staring at her like she might bolt at any second.
"Big Timber don't usually talk to reporters," said a banshee sitting at the counter, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo that made Ali's coffee cup rattle."Last one called him a hoax and tried to get him fired from his route."
"I'm not that kind of reporter."Ali pulled out her press credentials, the ones that identified her as a freelance photographer specializing in supernatural communities."I'm looking to document the real lives of working supernatural folks.Show people that you're not myths or monsters—you're just trying to make a living like everyone else."
Bertha snorted, a small puff of flame escaping."Honey, most of us are monsters.We just happen to have CDLs."
The comment drew chuckles from around the diner, and some of the tension eased.These weren't the hostile, secretive cryptids from her stepfather's paranoid rants.These were people—different people, sure, but still people—gathered around good food and bad coffee, talking shop and teasing each other like any other workplace.
Ali whispered a small revelation spell, watching as auras briefly shimmered into visibility around the truckers.No deception, no malice - just exhaustion and genuine respect for Big Timber.
Her phone buzzed with a text from her landlord about overdue rent, and Ali's heart sank.She needed this story to work.Her bank account was hovering somewhere between "pathetic" and "eviction notice," and freelance supernatural photography didn't exactly pay the bills.Especially not when half her potential subjects were too paranoid to be documented and the other half wanted to charge appearance fees.
"There he is," Maple said, nodding toward the parking lot.
Ali turned to look through the window and nearly choked on her coffee.
The truck pulling into the lot was massive even by big rig standards, a custom Peterbilt that looked like it had been built for someone who considered regular eighteen-wheelers "compact cars."But it wasn't the truck that made her mouth go dry.
It was the man climbing out of the cab.
Sweet Hecate.Eight feet of solid muscle unfolded from the driver's seat with the careful movements of someone constantly aware of his own size.Dark hair fell to his shoulders, and even from a distance, Ali could see the breadth of his chest, the way his flannel shirt stretched across shoulders that probably required their own zip code.He moved like he was afraid of breaking something just by existing.
"That's him," Bertha said unnecessarily."Big Timber.Been driving these routes for near twenty years, never had so much as a parking ticket.Keeps to himself mostly, but he'll help any trucker in trouble.Fixed Luna's transmission last month when she broke down in the middle of nowhere."
Ali watched him walk toward the diner, noting the way other truckers nodded respectfully as he passed.He didn't speak, just acknowledged them with slight nods of his own.When he reached the door, he had to duck to clear the frame.
The moment he stepped inside, Ali's magic went absolutely haywire.Her protective wards flared so hard they probably lit up every witch within fifty miles, her camera started throwing sparks like a live wire, and something deep in her core began purring like a satisfied cat.
Oh, hell no.Not this.Not now.
Big Timber's gaze swept the diner and landed on her.Dark brown eyes that should have been gentle but instead held the focused intensity of a hunter who'd just spotted his prey.When their gazes met, the purring sensation intensified until Ali wanted to either climb him like a tree or run screaming from the building.
This was exactly the complication she didn't need in her life.Hot cryptid male making her lady parts do the supernatural tango while she was trying to work?Hard pass.
"You the photographer?"Big Timber's voice was a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and settle somewhere she really wished it wouldn't.Those three words carried an edge of possession.She wanted to bristle and melt simultaneously.
"Ali Franklyn."She stood to shake his hand like a professional adult, not a hormonal disaster whose ovaries were apparently staging a coup.Big mistake.His palm engulfed hers completely, rough with calluses and hot enough to brand her.The contact sent fire racing up her arm and her magic hummed so loud she was surprised the windows didn't rattle.
Big Timber's entire body went rigid.His nostrils flared like he was scenting her, and the golden flecks in his dark eyes seemed to expand until they swallowed the brown entirely.His fingers tightened around hers—not painful, but enough to remind her that he could crush her bones without effort.
Great.Just great.Her body was apparently determined to claim this walking wall of muscle as its personal space heater, and judging by the way his pupils had blown wide, the feeling was mutual.
"Need air," he said, his voice rougher than asphalt.He released her hand and practically lunged for the door, moving with barely contained urgency.
The entire diner fell silent as the door swung shut behind him with enough force to rattle the frame.
