Chapter 3
Gia
I don’t know how I got so turned around.
Seriously.
One minute I was following the faint whisper of magic humming through the trees, and the next?
I was knee-deep in smoke, ash coating my skin, completely lost in the middle of the Montana wilderness like the world’s dumbest fucking forest nymph.
Okay.
Maybe I should explain.
See, my name is Gia Anatoly, and I was descended from a long line of Dryads.
Yep. You heard me.
No, I am not fucking with you.
For those who didn’t pay attention in mythology class, I simply happen to be a nature-bound spirit born with earth magic, and I can use it for one purpose and one purpose only—to protect the forests.
Sounds noble and mystical, right?
Yeah, well, it was a lot less magical when you grow up in twenty-first century New Jersey surrounded by highways, strip malls, and luxury condos where ancient woodlands used to be.
The truth was hardly romantic.
And finding untouched forests these days?
Pfbbbt.
Nearly impossible.
Finding one that needs protecting without normals—aka humans—messing about?
Even harder.
Okay, so back to our history of magical folks lesson and how I ended up here—in Montana of all places.
See, Dryads aren’t exactly common anymore.
Most of our bloodlines faded generations ago when humans started paving over everything green and sacred.
The old magic and the connection to the OG Goddess—Mother Earth—has weakened alongside the forests themselves.
Which was how my sister and I ended up attached to a Witch Coven because yes, they exist too. Along with Shifters, Vampires, and an entire slew of mystical creatures.
Anyway, we got in with the Coven for protection. Strength in numbers and all that jazz.
Besides, technically, Dryads can use magic.
Ours just works differently.
Witches pull power from within themselves, from spell craft and ritual and inherited ability.
Dryads? Not so much.
We borrow magic from the earth itself.
The forests actually breathe power into us.
But lately?
The forests have been screaming.
That’s partially what brought me to Montana.
Our Coven operated under a corporate front called Greener Earth—a conservation company that built eco-retreats and private wilderness cabins under the guise of environmental restoration.
In reality, it gave magically inclined people like us protected land to work with.
To heal.
To listen.
To reconnect.
Our newest property sat near Glacier National Park, surrounded by miles of old-growth forest that practically vibrated with dormant magic.
Not flashy magic.
Not Witch-fire or spell circles or dramatic lightning storms.
Older magic.
Root-deep magic.
The kind Dryads could feel humming beneath the soil like a second heartbeat.
Which should’ve been relaxing.
Healing even.
Instead, I’d spent the last three nights having bizarre dreams about a dying plant crying for help somewhere deep in the woods.
Literally crying.
Like some sad little botanical ghost haunting my subconscious.
And because I was apparently incapable of minding my own damn business when nature called to me, I left the cabin after sunset to search for it.
Alone.
Like a complete fucking idiot.
Yep.
That was me.
Gia Anatoly.
Thirty-six-year-old Jersey-born Dryad with a size-eighteen ass tromping through bear country because a magical seedling whispered at me in my dreams.
Fantastic life choices all around.
Though admittedly?
There was another reason I’d agreed to come on this whole “evaluate the land and reconnect spiritually with nature” retreat in the first place.
And that reason was Jeremy Steeler.
Assistant VP of Greener Earth Industries.
Powerful Witch.
Pretty blue eyes.
Very expensive suits.
And lately?
He seemed interested… in me.
Which honestly felt surreal enough on its own.
Not openly, mind you.
Jeremy was too polished for outright flirting.
Too careful.
Too politically aware inside Coven dynamics.
But there had been hints.
Lingering glances during meetings.
Dinner invitations after late nights at the office.
The subtle kind of attention a woman notices when she’s gone a very long time without anyone looking at her like she might actually be wanted.
Because the truth was?
Dryads didn’t mate easily.
Especially not modern Dryads trying to survive in cities and corporate ecosystems instead of ancient forests.
And I wasn’t exactly the delicate little woodland fairy most men fantasized about claiming.
I was curvy.
Soft.
Plus-sized.
Fat.
Whatever label people preferred using these days, the reality stayed the same—I carried extra weight society didn’t exactly celebrate unless it was hidden behind “confidence” campaigns and carefully posed social media posts.
Plus, I was loud.
A real Jersey Girl through and through.
I liked Bon Jovi more than Bruce Springsteen, and I said Taylor Ham instead of pork roll because I had self-respect.
And it was tomato sauce.
Not gravy.
Fight me.
Anyway, facts were facts.
I wasn’t exactly in high demand among the males in my Coven.
Was I cute?
Sure.
But I was built soft in all the places fashion magazines hated and powerful Alpha personalities usually overlooked.
And now that I’d hit my mid-thirties?
Let’s just say the offers definitely weren’t pouring in.
So yeah.
If spending a summer reconnecting with my magic also meant returning home with the possibility of an alliance proposal from a handsome Witch?
I wasn’t above considering it.
Don’t judge me.
Only somewhere along the line, I must’ve seriously screwed up.
Because the second the smoke hit my lungs, all my instincts screamed danger.
I froze.
Time slowed down.
Shit.
The forest around me had changed.
Orange light flickered violently through the trees now, shadows dancing against thick black smoke rolling between the pines.
Heat licked across my skin in suffocating waves while embers drifted through the air like glowing insects.
“No, no no no—”
My pulse spiked.
Fire.
Dear Goddess.
The forest was burning.
Pain exploded through me so suddenly that I nearly dropped to my knees.
People thought Dryads simply loved nature.
That wasn’t quite true.
We were connected to it.
The forest screamed.
Not softly.
Not metaphorically.
It screamed.
Pain rippled through the roots beneath my feet and shot straight into my chest like a physical blow. The old trees—ancient, dignified, patient things—cracked and groaned as fire devoured bark that had stood for centuries.
And somewhere deep inside me?
I broke with them.
Another tree split in the distance with a violent, splintering roar.
The sound tore through the night like bone snapping.
Angry orange flames surged higher, leaping from crown to crown in feral hunger. Heat rolled toward me in waves so intense it scorched the inside of my lungs every time I tried to breathe.
Smoke thickened in seconds.
One breath.
Two.
And suddenly the air wasn’t air anymore—it was ash and panic and choking blackness.
“Shit.”
The word scraped raw out of my throat.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might actually burst. My magic fluttered wildly beneath my skin, frantic and disorganized, like a flock of birds trapped in a burning cage.
I spun in a slow, desperate circle.
North.
South.
East.
West.
It didn’t matter.
Every direction looked the same now.
Trees.
Fire.
Smoke.
The familiar trails I’d walked earlier vanished beneath a shifting wall of flame and shadow. The forest that had welcomed me with whispers only hours ago now roared with fury, confused and wounded and dying all around me.
My Dryad magic reached outward automatically, trying to find anchor points—healthy roots, cool soil, steady life.
Nothing.
Everything I touched through the earth burned.
The pain ricocheted back into me tenfold.
I staggered backward, coughing hard as tears streamed down my face—not just from the smoke, but from the overwhelming grief crashing through my body.
The forest hurt.
And because I was tethered to it?
I hurt.
Deep.
Primal.
A wound I couldn’t bandage or soothe.
The flames surged closer.
The wind shifted violently.
Suddenly, sparks rained down around me like fiery snow.
My vision blurred at the edges.
I tried to call to the trees—to calm them, to shield them—but my magic skittered uselessly against the blaze.
Too much.
Too strong.
Too angry.
“I can’t—” My voice cracked as another cough ripped through me.
Panic clawed up my throat sharp and suffocating.
I turned again, trying to find the path back to the cabins.
But every direction was wrong.
Every shadow looked identical.
Every tree a looming black shape against a wall of flame.
I couldn’t hear water.
Couldn’t smell safety.
Couldn’t feel anything but heat and chaos and the deafening roar of destruction.
My lungs burned.
My head spun.
My heart pounded so violently it drowned out rational thought.
I was lost.
Not just misplaced.
Not just turned around.
Hopelessly.
Fucking.
Lost.
“HELP!” I screamed, coughing hard enough that tears sprang to my eyes. “HELP ME!”
The fire answered with a roar.
Heat slammed into me from the left, forcing me backward.
My boots slipped over loose dirt and ash while smoke burned the back of my throat raw.
“HELP!”
Would anyone even hear me out here?
The fear hit hard then.
Not cute nervousness.
Not anxiety.
Real fear.
The kind that made your body shake while your mind started calculating how badly dying in a wildfire would hurt.
Another cough tore through me.
My vision blurred.
The forest cried around me in agony, ancient roots and frightened wildlife echoing through my senses until I thought I might lose my mind completely.
Then—something massive crashed through the smoke.
I gasped.
A huge male stepped from the flames like some furious god dragged straight out of the mountain itself.
He was enormous.
Towering shoulders.
Thick muscle stretching beneath soot-covered firefighting gear.
Shaggy dark hair damp with sweat and ash.
His entire being radiated with this dominant energy that completely stole my attention.
I couldn’t look away from him if I tried, despite the smoke and tears blurring my vision.
He was beautiful.
One brown eye and one green locked onto mine—both were glowing brighter than the damn fire.
Power rolled off him so violently my knees nearly buckled.
Not Witch.
Not human.
He was a Shifter.
Alpha—some secret part of my mind whispered in recognition.
My body reacted instantly.
Every instinct I possessed reached toward him in terrified, desperate relief.
Safe.
The word whispered through me before I could stop it.
His chest rumbled low.
Not a growl exactly.
Something deeper.
More primal.
The male stared at me like he’d just found something impossible.
Something dangerous.
And holy shit, the way he looked at me made heat curl low in my stomach despite the smoke and panic surrounding us.
“Who are you?” I choked out.
His nostrils flared.
That strange rumbling deepened.
Then his gaze locked fully onto mine.
“Mate.”