He’s human. I can’t mark him.
He’d probably punch me and call the police. My cousin was the police chief, so that wasn’t a big deal, but losing my mate was worse than the eight years of waiting.
Why not? He’s ours.
Humans don’t fall in love instantly.
I gripped the wheel so hard I expected my shifter strength to break it and we’d run off the road, but I forced myself to keep driving away from Pax. His scent was on my clothes, in my hair, and had burned itself into my memory. Doing what my dragon suggested was tempting because my head and heart were telling me to go back to Pax.
Humans are complicated. My dragon didn’t know how much, but we’d have to figure out how to do this.
I thought back to the hose incident when the wet sweater had clung to Pax’s chest. I’d wanted to rip it off and warm him withmy body. But had I done it deliberately to get him to remove his clothes so I could sight the tattoo?
No, the hose had kinked, but perhaps I had somehow willed that to happen. Because even though I scented Pax as my one and only, I needed to confirm it with the tattoo. Sometimes the universe made a boo-boo, but after meeting Pax, if it had messed this up, I’d fall to my knees and beg it to fix the mistake.
My beast huffed and tendrils of smoke filled my nostrils, so I wound down the window. I had to shift and clear my head before I did exactly as my dragon wanted me to do.
I turned off the road onto a water-logged dirt track that led deep into the woods. My family had owned these three hundred acres for generations, and there was a clearing in the center where no human had ever been.
The other dragon families in and around town used this place too. We’d build fire pits, cut and stacked wood for burning, and carved landing areas between the trees. It was a place we could be ourselves without hiding.
I parked on the dirt parking area and followed the trail. Spring hadn’t arrived here yet because the tree canopy blocked most of the light, and the air contained the chill of winter. It was the perfect weather for flying.
The clearing opened up ahead. It was a wide expanse of scorched earth, and luckily, I was the only one here. My dragon needed to rage and burn without an audience.
I stripped off my clothes and got my briefs off just in time as scales rippled over my shoulders and claws pushed through my fingertips. He didn’t ask permission, but I couldn’t blame him. We were in our safe place.
Wings erupted from my back, and my spine lengthened. I fell on all fours as horns protruded from my head and a long tail extended and swished behind me. My senses of smell and sightsharpened, and I scented the dragons of past and present who’d been here before me.
But Pax’s scent clung to my beast’s scales as he unleashed flames and scorched the ground. He launched himself into the air and pumped his wings in an effort to rise while climbing above the tree line. Humans and also land-dwelling shifters were denied this freedom, and I felt sorry for them.
Mate, my dragon insisted and circled around, heading back to Pax’s house.
No, no. We can’t. I wrested control and had him bank away from the outskirts of town.Not like this.
I want to be close to him.
Me too. But a dragon circling over his house will have the town in an uproar. He doesn’t know about us.
My beast snarled but turned toward the clearing. He flew for an hour, burning through logs and searing patterns on the bare earth. We worked through his and my frustration until we were both more at ease.
Landing near the fire pit, he told me I needed a better plan than spraying our mate with a hose.
I didn’t do that on purpose.
My beast did the dragon version of rolling his eyes, saying my hand slipped because I was staring at Pax.
I took my skin but made no move to return to town. Instead, I lay naked on the wet grass and stared at the sky. Maybe my dragon was right in that I’d been focused on Pax’s throat and I’d lost control of the hose.
Before I could date and woo Pax, I had to make sure he had the same tattoo as me and in the same place. My dragon didn’t understand wooing, but we’d been waiting so long, a few more months wouldn’t matter. Our mate was here and not going anywhere.
The sun was much lower when we returned to town, and I spent the next few hours in my office doing the estimates and printing them out. Pax might prefer the digital version, but I was used to people in town wanting a hard copy.
I forced myself to sleep when I was done, though my dreams were full of Pax who was hiding in the turret at his house or swinging from the treetops. He was always just out of reach, and I woke, determined to make a good impression when we met again.
I swung by the café and ordered two different types of coffee because I didn’t know how Pax took his. Balancing the carrier and the folder, I strolled up the path to his house, pleased at how much better the yard was now that I’d mowed the grass.
He opened the door wearing jeans and a hoodie. He was barefoot, his hair was damp at the ends, and I inhaled the intoxicating scent of his floral shampoo.
