Chapter Eighteen
FRANKIE
Bellamy.
I repeat his name in my head, the rough texture of his voice sending a shiver down my spine. I cross my arms, struggling to untangle my fascination with dragons from the man before me. The slight rasp when he says his name makes me suspect he doesn’t talk much.
The council doesn’t encourage discussion, only obedience.
I caught his scant hesitation before he spoke, and I wonder how long it’s been since he offered it to anyone.
My soul aches at the isolation he’s been forced to endure.
The way his life mirrors mine is almost eerie.
I didn’t dare make any friends or allow anyone close for fear they would discover my secrets and turn me over to the council.
It was a heart-wrenchingly solitary existence, but at least I had Gramps.
Who did Bellamy have to keep him sane?
Tearing my eyes away from the dragon, I survey the ragtag group of men in front of me. They are all rough around the edges and more than a little bit feral. It’s not the most intimidating army, but they have potential…if I can keep them from killing each other.
“This is your last chance to leave.” I drop my hands to my hips, scowling at the obstinate assholes, both hoping to scare them away and fearing they might go. “Once we head into town, it will be too late. Be sure this is what you want.”
Tyler spins the keys around his finger before catching them in his hand. “It’s already too late. When you came to my rescue in town, my life was forever altered.”
He flashes me his most winsome smile, and I do my best not to react outwardly.
On the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out at the way my heart flutters and my body practically melts at his declaration.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Gramps taught me to control every inch of my body.
It’s frustrating as fuck that I’m unable to snuff out my attraction to them.
As the sun comes up behind him, his red hair looks like it catches fire, and his green eyes blaze with determination. He truly believes what he’s saying. It’s not a game or a gimmick for him.
“The Goldcrest pack isn’t one to forgive or forget,” Garth says, stealing my attention. “You took control of the whole pack, even the alpha. Trent is not going to let that slide.”
Dante snorts, derision twisting his expression, and I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or the Goldcrest pack. “To Trent, you’re a female—an easy target. He won’t stop coming after you, not when you have all that power just sitting there for the taking.”
“Just what I need—more assholes joining my fan club,” I mutter under my breath, cursing myself for being drawn into their drama. While I enjoy helping people who need it, getting involved with them is something else.
I’ve mostly been able to keep to myself, but there is something about the guys that’s impossible to resist. Maybe I’m just drawn to the danger that surrounds them like an intoxicating pheromone, but I fear it’s more than that.
I like them.
Shudder.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I focus on the bigger problem. “We’re going into town virtually blind. All we know is that a small coven of witches has disappeared.”
“Your contact said something was off,” Garth reminds me, his face brooding as he focuses on the job. “Why don’t you let some of us scout the town first?”
I open my mouth to protest, then hesitate.
“That’s not a bad idea,” I admit a bit reluctantly. I’ve only been in their world for a few months, but it’s enough to learn that while most witches don’t like shifters, they won’t outright attack. “Just be careful. I don’t like that we don’t know anything about the situation.”
“We just passed the outer edges of the Goldcrest’s land.
We’re officially out of shifter territory.
” Dante gazes in the direction of the town.
“Normally, most witches are tolerant of shifters, but the Goldcrest pack isn’t known for its congeniality.
We’ll need to be careful. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re not greeted with some level of hostility. ”
I rub the spot between my eyes, but it does nothing to relieve the building headache. “I won’t ask you guys to walk into danger. You—”
“You didn’t ask, we offered,” Garth interrupts with a scowl. “One of us can enter quietly, observe, and return before they’re even aware of us.”
I don’t like it, and I bite my tongue to keep from saying so. If it were just me, I would sneak into town on my own, test out the waters, and leave if I sensed anything off.
Something tells me that the men would object if I insisted on checking it out on my own.
Their protectiveness is almost sweet, if a bit annoying.
While Gramps kept me safe, he didn’t coddle me. He wanted to prepare me for the real world. Each day was a lesson in survival. I don’t resent the way I was raised, but relying on others is so out of my realm of experience that it instantly makes me suspicious.
Garth’s blue eyes shimmer as he waits for my verdict, and part of me relaxes slightly that he’s leaving the decision up to me. He’s not trying to take over the op. He’s just offering a suggestion. Since he lives in this unfamiliar world, it would be foolish not to follow his lead.
I give a reluctant nod. “If you’re not back in thirty minutes, we’ll come after you.”
I won’t send them into danger without backup.
Tension eases out of his shoulders, and he nods in agreement. “Tyler—”
“On it.” He immediately reaches over his shoulder, grabs his shirt, and pulls it over his head.
My mouth drops open at the display of muscles.
He’s so lean that his frame is deceptive.
Sure, shifters often have very little body fat, but something about the way his muscles flex and move is hypnotizing.
The freckles on his face envelop his whole body.
Instead of being scattered randomly, they are in a dusty swirl pattern, making it appear as though he’s covered in a galaxy of stars, and my fingers itch to trace the design.
His skin is so white that his freckles look like artwork, and I could stare at him for hours.
It’s only when he reaches for the closure of his pants, his movements slow and seductive, that I realize I’m staring. Heat fills my face, and I’m mortified to be caught…but not enough to turn away.
If I thought he would be shy, I was wrong. A wicked smile curves his lips, obviously pleased by my attention, and he shucks his pants. Against my will, my eyes scan his body, and I swallow hard at the sight of his cock.
Shifters aren’t modest. I’ve seen enough swinging cocks and swaying tits to last me a lifetime, and yet I can’t turn away.
His cock fits his body, nice and long. Instead of shifting immediately, he allows me to look my fill.
His dick hardens under my gaze, thickening deliciously, and damn if my vagina doesn’t whimper at the sight.
He would destroy me in the best ways, leaving me feeling him for hours, and I struggle not to squirm.
A throat clears—actually, more than one and more than once. I blink, tearing my gaze away. I expect to find Tyler smirking, but the hunger in his emerald green eyes is enough to have me swallowing hard.
The lust is so thick in the air that I can’t take a breath without tasting it, and my wolf growls in my head, demanding we accept his offer to fuck. It’s only when Dante steps into my path, blocking my view, that the spell is broken.
My gaze jerks up. I expect to find derision in his eyes, maybe even humor. What I don’t expect to find is jealousy…and maybe a little bit of interest? My mouth is suddenly dry, and I’m left floundering on how to handle the situation.
This is one thing Gramps did not teach me.
I don’t think either one of us would’ve survived the mutual embarrassment.
The sex talk was bad enough.
Neither of us could look at each other for a full week afterward.
Clearing my throat awkwardly, I turn away…
and find a cute little fox sitting in the spot where Tyler stood a moment ago.
Everything inside of me melts at his adorableness.
The little beasty yips, shooting to his feet and dancing around me in a charming way that has me stooping down to run my hands over his fur.
The fox eagerly licks my hand, moaning in pleasure, his small body practically vibrating in eagerness.
“Tyler.” Garth says his name only once, and the tiny fox retreats with a pout, practically dragging his feet as he turns away. My poor heart aches at the dejection. When he’s a quarter of a mile down the road, he perks up and trots down the highway before disappearing into the trees.
The instant he’s out of sight, my chest tightens in anxiety. I take a step to follow, then force myself to stop and release a heavy sigh.
I narrow my eyes in the direction of the town, silently vowing vengeance if they fuck with him. I don’t question my protectiveness, not anymore. They’re part of my team now, they’re my responsibility, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
I refuse to admit my attachment to them could be anything else.
DANTE
An hour passes without a sign of Tyler. The longer he’s gone, the more tension fills the air.
Frankie is once more in the driver’s seat, ready to charge after the fox.
I walk around the vehicle, determined to take the seat next to her, but the fucker Bellamy skids across the hood of the car and claims it first.
I glare at the asshole, promising retribution, but the jerkoff just smirks.
My skinwalker abilities make me a formidable opponent.
Garth can put me through my paces, but I suspect Bellamy can kick my ass, and my beast snarls in my head at the thought.
He flashes his fangs and claws prick along my insides as he paces, both of us wanting to shed the fucker’s blood and claim another form—a fucking dragon.