Chapter 3
Present Day
A job in construction fits my skill set perfectly after I spent the last two decades in a land of snow and ice, living as a mythical beast. Mainly, the foreman has me lifting heavy things.
Today, we’re finishing up the kitchen in a lakefront house, and I maneuver through the front door, carrying a five-hundred-pound granite countertop. On my own.
“Look at you go! Fucking glad we added you to the team.” Adrian, a white guy with shoulder-length red hair, damp with sweat, pats me on the back, and I manage not to flinch.
I’m still braced for an attack, expecting a heavy body of claws and scales to slam into me and try to wrestle power from my grasp. That was the way of the colony. The constant brutality was something most of the dragons living there respected and prided themselves on.
I just wanted to survive long enough to escape.
But it seems leaving the place didn’t automatically free me from the violent lessons I’d learned while there. It’s going to take time for me to reacclimatize to this mostly civilized world.
After working with me for two weeks, the crew is used to the fact that I don’t talk much, so the redhead accepts my nod as I settle the load onto the lower cabinets. He strolls away, toward the foreman. Both are mermen. Most of this crew is merfolk.
When I asked Xavier about work in town, saying I’d take anything with a paycheck, he came up with a list. The top two were this construction team and a recycling company—one owned by a merman, the other by a selkie.
The same as when I grew up here, there are more Of the Fin—aka water—mythics than any other in town.
But I couldn’t care less if I worked with my kind, other mythics, or even humans, as long as it was a job.
I figured with my supernatural strength, might as well try out a building team.
Fortunately, Bardo, the owner of Lake Castles Construction, found space for me on his crew despite me being Of the Wing, like all dragons.
“Love when I finish a task right when it’s time to clock out.” Callisto, a mermaid and the plumber for this build, rolls out from under the sink and grins my way.
I give her the same silent nod I gave Adrian. She wipes her hands on a rag, then waves before strolling out the door. I fiddle with the counter for a minute, creating a buffer.
The first day here, I learned Callisto’s sister is the police chief in town. Even though I haven’t committed a bigger crime than snatching some clothes and food, I still have the urge to avoid the law. To stay away from anyone who might find my true identity interesting.
“Hey, you want a ride into town?” Adrian throws his thumb over his shoulder, and even though I enjoy walking in the lush Georgia forests, I nod.
Anything to get back faster. Hopefully in time to catch sight of Esme before she closes the shop for the day.
I have no plan. Not anymore. Nothing other than figuring out if Esme would be happier with or without me.
But I’ve spent all my time surviving among dragons in a colony in Antarctica and zero time learning how to discern the inner workings of a woman’s mind.
For now, all I can do is observe. Count her smiles. Look for hints of discontent.
Find out if she sits by her window at night, staring up at the moon, praying to The Winged One that, one day, a dragon mate will come fulfill her life.
I roll my eyes at my own immature hopes.
Esme was never a pine-and-wait type of girl.
Once, when she was sixteen and with me and our friends on a boat—my parents’ new speedboat that I was using to show off—the engine crapped out on us, leaving our group stranded in the middle of Lake Galen.
Back then, we didn’t have convenient cell phones to call for help.
Without a moment of hesitation, she dived into the water and swam to shore, calling out she’d get us a tow.
An hour later, the fancy speedboat was hooked to an aging pontoon, and I was crushing hard on a girl who never needed to be saved.
“You’re above Fresh Feathers, right?” Adrian asks as he turns his truck onto Main Street.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Feel like you’ve halved the heavy lifting since you started. Figure I owe you.” The guy flicks the rim of his baseball cap as he pulls up to the curb. “See you tomorrow. We’re going to happy hour after work at Local Brew if you want to join.”
“Maybe.”
My twenty-first birthday came and went while I was in Antarctica. I’ve never had a sip of legal alcohol. Still wouldn’t be able to if they carded me. Got no card to give. And under this shaggy beard, I don’t look much older than when I left even if I feel ancient.
Adrian’s truck spurts out a plume of black exhaust as he drives off, and I fixate on the sign on Fresh Feathers’ front door.
Closed.
Disappointment bows my shoulders, but as I turn toward the steps leading to the apartment, the ringing of a bell stops me. Esme emerges from the shop, carrying a backpack, keys, and my bloody, aching heart.
She doesn’t know about that last one though.
“Lee!” The harpy grins wide, gold eyes sparkling as if I’m some kind of beautiful view. Gods, this whole town must be in love with her by now if this is how she approaches strangers. “Done working for the day?”
“Yeah.” I glance down and realize I have a light layer of sawdust coating my skin.
Not that I mind. Just a sign that I have a job, that I’m contributing to a community I want to be a part of.
I don’t have to deal with the shame of squatting in her apartment anymore.
Since I don’t have an identity as far as anyone is concerned, Bardo is paying me under the table, and I was able to start right away.
He made it clear he’s giving me the amount the other workers get after their taxes are subtracted, and the taxes he’d normally pay, he’s donating to the town’s Mythic Council.
Even if I don’t trust him enough to tell him my real name, I’ve got to admit, he’s a stand-up guy.
“How’s the apartment working out? Hopefully better than crashing on Xavier’s couch at least.”
I nod. “He has pinball machines.” Talking gets easier every day—especially around her—but I still keep my words as minimal as possible. “Loud ones.”
“Oh goddess, I almost forgot.” Esme chuckles, and I lean forward at the sound.
“His hoard must be huge by now. Such an oddly specific thing for a dragon to grow attached to, but whatever works for the guy.” The harpy tilts her head, the gesture quick and birdlike.
“And are you creating a hoard of your own odd objects upstairs?”
I shake my head, wishing I could give a different answer. Name something that would make her smile, make her laugh, make her fall in love with the shell of a man I’ve become.
But nothing draws me, except for her. Not all dragons hoard, but a lot of our kind do. My father hoarded something more traditional—money.
Despite the comfortable life it gave me for my first eighteen years, I’m glad I don’t have the same compulsion. Especially after the expectations he had for how I would pay him back for the support from his hoard.
“Sorry, that was probably a personal question. Ignore my nosiness.” Esme hooks her thumbs in the straps of her backpack, looking more like a college student in that moment than a woman in her late thirties. “Any plans for the evening?”
Only if attempting to make edible food from a recipe in the Cooking for Beginners book I picked up off Never Judge a Cover’s bargain shelf counts. The siren who owns the local bookshop has been helping me find how-to books for the skills I forgot or never had.
If only there was a Wooing a Harpy for Beginners.
I shrug. “Shower. Eat.” Think about you.
No doubt that pity for the strange, boring dragon with no life prompts her next question.
“Do you want to come with me to my favorite place in the world?”