I stepped through to the other side and found myself in heaven on Earth.
A heaven built of cars and bikes. All the beautiful,beautifulbikes.
Stumbling toward them, I trailed down the rows of Hondas and Yamahas, grinding to a halt when I reached the very last bike.
Okay, now I hoped that my new mascara’s waterproof claim held up, because I was going to cry. Since arriving in Golden Claw, the pendulum of my emotions had been swinging wildly, keeping me constantly on the edge of waterworks, butcome on… it was my dream bike.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I whispered, gazing lovestruck at the Ducati Panigale V4R.
My hand hovered over the shiny black tank, and I debated how much I truly cared if the alphas killed me after sealing the mate bond.
Provided I got a chance to ride this baby first.
“What are you doing?” I jumped at his low, rumbly voice.
This was the first time Slade had spoken to me, and I was surprised by the faintest hint of an accent that felt as if it originated in Europe. It suited him though, reminding me that he was an ancient, terrifying beast.
“Staring at my dream bike.”
Silence followed my statement, and I was surprised to find that I wanted to stare at the dragon even more than the bike. His expression was neutral, those beautiful, unearthly eyes locked on the row of bikes. “Which one is your dream bike?”
My hand shook as I pointed toward her. “The Panigale. I’d sell all non-essential body parts for one.”
Silence again outside of a low rumble. It wasn’t an angry sound… more curious. “That one is mine.” His tone gave nothing away, leaving me unable to tell if he was unhappy or not by my love for this bike.
“Are we riding her today?” I squeaked, barely daring to breathe at the thought.
“No.”
Ouch.It was that easy for him to shatter my tiny hope, as he once again became scary shifter. He moved away from the row of bikes, and I gave them all a last longing stare.Soon, precious ones.
When I got a chance, I’d have to ask Kellan if any of them were his. Surely there’d be one I could borrow for a quick ride.
As Slade moved deeper into the garage, I experienced the rest of the incredible lineup, barely holding in my gasps at each new revelation. “Range Rover p615, Bugatti Chiron, Ferrari SF90, Bentley Continental GT, Rolls Royce Cullinan… in the fucking Black Badge edition.” I kept chanting through them because this was almost as unbelievable as the existence of dragons. “A Rolls Royce Ghost, Lamborghini Revuelto, Bentley Flying Spur—oh, and four Porsche GT3 RS’s. Of course.”
Their Porsches were no doubt what they used on the track, seeing as they were purpose-built racecars. Goddess, they’d handle like a dream around a track.
Not everything was a supercar, with a few drifters, including a Mazda RX7 rotary and a Skyline R33 with what looked like an RB 26 conversion.
I’ve died and gone to motor heaven.
Near the center of the massive garage they had their classic cars, including a Chevy Impala, Mustang GT350, Corvette Stingray, and a Shelby Cobra. These alphas were more than just supercar and speed fanatics… they were true car lovers.
Finley’s TRX wasn’t here, but there were a couple of other pickup trucks, rounding off the bunch.
Slade had been silently watching me die of happiness, and when I reached his side I debated asking to sleep down here tonight. I was distracted though by the bright green car, similar in color to the eyes of the dragon who stood beside it. “Oh my goddess above. You’ve got a Lamborghini Aventador SVJ? What in the actual fuck…? Holy shit. These are…holy shit.”
He examined me like I was a foreign species crawling over his shoe. “How do you know so much about cars?”
Temporarily forgetting that he was an ancient, scary dragon, I scoffed. “Why? Because I’m poor and uneducated?”
He made no attempts to clarify if that was what he’d meant as he stared me down, unbothered by the tension between us. With a sigh, I decided there was no harm in revealing this piece of my past. “Mom lived over a mechanic’s shop with her pack. They locked me in my room all the time, but I had a secret escape out the window and down into the garage. I’d watch the cars roll in and out. The owner must have been good at his job, because the shop was a dump but he worked on the fanciest cars I’d ever seen. Sports cars, racecars, muscle cars. If it had four wheels and an engine, it went through his shop at some point.”
After catching me sneaking through a few times, the old guy, Mack, had taught me about the cars he’d worked on. A gruff old bastard, but one of the few friends in my past.
I hadn’t seen him since the day Mom died.
“I couldn’t shake my love for anything with a motor after that. Bikes are my passion, don’t get me wrong, but cars hold their own.”
