Chapter 23
Zaden
I woke with the taste of Krystal still on my lips, and the faint, iron-sweet ache of her mating bite at my shoulder.
Morning pressed through the blinds in slices, banding the bed in light and shadow, and I lay there for a minute, letting the world settle into focus.
The mate bond pulsed strong and steady under my skin, a low current that buzzed behind my ribs and throbbed in the place where her teeth had claimed me.
Every muscle in my body was both wrung-out and hungry for more.
I traced the bite, grinning when the pressure made a fresh wave of heat roll down my spine.
I stretched, groaning as the covers slid off my hips, and listened.
Krystal in the kitchen, moving with a focus that said she’d already been up a good hour.
Bryce, much fainter, in the back room. The kid was probably still asleep.
He'd been exhausted. I couldn’t hear his heartbeat as clearly as I could Krystal’s, but the mate bond threaded out to him too, a line of fragile gold that shimmered in the edges of my mind.
The memory of last night replayed, spiked with flashes of sweat, laughter, and Krystal’s wild howl when I bit down at the finish.
I rolled out of bed, planting both feet on the worn hardwood.
The world outside sounded normal. Birds, a dog barking next door, the faint rush of a delivery truck, but my brain ticked faster than ever, slicing through the humdrum to catalog every threat, every out-of-place scent or vibration. The dragon never slept in.
I padded naked to the dresser, grabbed a pair of shorts, and tugged them on.
The bite on my shoulder had already stopped bleeding, but it stung with a good pain, like a new tattoo.
I flexed my arm, checking the range of motion, then caught my reflection in the cracked closet mirror.
I looked the same as ever, bedhead a mess, jaw in need of a shave, but the eyes were different.
Bright, clear, almost golden. I looked like a man who knew what he wanted and had it.
I headed to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee and toast. Krystal stood at the counter, hair twisted into a bun and t-shirt tied off at her waist. She poured coffee into two mismatched mugs. I put my hands on her hips and dipped my head to nuzzle her neck.
She shivered, then leaned into me. "Morning, sunshine," she said, passing me a mug. Her fingers lingered on mine, and she grinned at the fresh mark on my shoulder.
"Morning, little wolf." I kissed her cheek, then took a long swallow of coffee. "You make a habit of trying to chew through your lovers?"
"Only the ones I want to keep around," she said. "You sleep okay?"
I shrugged, stretching. "Like the dead. You?"
Her eyes flicked past my shoulder, toward the hallway. "I was up before dawn. Bryce had a nightmare." She hesitated. "He didn’t want to talk about it."
"He’s tough. But he’s had a hell of a week."
She looked at me, something tight in her jaw. "He asked if you’d still be here in the morning."
I grinned, my dragon prancing. "I’ll be here every morning." I meant it. The bond wouldn’t let me lie about a promise like that.
She smiled, but the worry lines stayed etched at her eyes.
Bryce shuffled into the room, hair sticking up in cowlicks, pajamas rumpled. He blinked twice, eyes glassy with sleep, then dropped into a chair at the table. He didn’t look at me, but I watched him for a minute, scanning the set of his shoulders, the way his hand hovered at his temple.
"Hey, kiddo," I said, trying for casual.
He made a noncommittal noise and started picking at a piece of toast. He didn’t look sick, but there was a new fatigue at the corners of his mouth, like he’d been awake longer than he let on.
Krystal passed him orange juice, then knelt next to his chair. "You okay?"
He nodded, still silent. Then, without warning, he said, "I dreamed I was flying. But I fell at the end, and I hit the ground." He looked up at me, something haunted behind the brown of his eyes. "Why do I feel so tired, Dad?"
The question punched harder than it should. I crouched by the table, so we were eye level. "Your body’s working overtime, kid. All that magic, all that power? It’s a lot, even for a dragon. Or a wolf."
He frowned. "But I’m both."
Krystal’s hand curled over his. "You’re the best parts of both," she said. "But sometimes it’s too much. That’s why you have us."
He looked at her, then at me, and nodded, as if this was a problem he could tackle with enough willpower.
I watched the tremor in his fingers, the way he rubbed his temples between every bite of toast. The mate bond didn’t just tether me to Krystal.
It sharpened every protective instinct, every warning bell.
The dragon in me wanted to scoop Bryce up, fly him to the tallest mountain, and stand guard until whatever threatened him was dead or gone.
I remembered Vivienne’s words, and the chill in her eyes as she’d watched Bryce come apart. "A male dragon-born witch almost unheard of." Even in dragon history, the odds were microscopic. And Vivienne wasn’t the only one who would want to study him or use him.
I locked eyes with Krystal, letting the urgency show in my face. She nodded, already ahead of me.
I knelt by Bryce’s chair, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You’re gonna feel weird for a while," I said. "But I’m here. Your mom’s here. And we’ll teach you everything we know."
He looked at me, then the edge of his mouth quirked in a half-smile. "Even the flying?"
"Especially the flying," I said.
Krystal tousled his hair. "But maybe after you brush your teeth, okay?"
He rolled his eyes, nine going on eighteen, and wandered down the hall to the bathroom.
When he was gone, Krystal’s mask dropped. She leaned into the counter, gripping it so hard her knuckles paled. "I can’t lose him," she said, voice raw.
"You won’t," I said, moving behind her and wrapping her in my arms. "Not as long as I’m breathing."
She melted into me, her worry crackling like an exposed wire.
I held her, letting the bond knit us closer, and stared at the wall, already plotting how to keep Vivienne, and every other predator in this town, away from my son.
The dragon in me swore an oath, right there, over cold coffee and burnt toast.
I would never let anything happen to him.
Beck Manor was built for intimidation. Even after a century or three of renovations, every inch of it declared that the Becks were here first and would be here long after the rest of Stock Creek’s residents had gone to dust.
The big double doors opened before I could knock. Aurelia stood on the other side, wearing black jeans and a cashmere wrap that probably cost more than my motorcycle. She arched a brow. "You look like you slept in your own bed for once."
I grinned. "New habits."
She led me through the front hall and up the sweeping staircase. The whole place smelled of lemon polish and old secrets. When we reached the landing, she paused, glancing back at me. "Ashton’s waiting. And Drake. Try not to set the office on fire this time?"
"No promises," I said, only half joking.
She rolled her eyes and vanished down the hall, leaving me in front of the double doors to Ashton’s sanctum.
The office was a holdover from the Gilded Age, massive desk, leather chairs, a wall of glass-fronted bookshelves loaded with first editions and dragon lore.
The windows faced east, flooding the room with early light, which caught on the display case of dragon artifacts at one end.
There were ancient coins, ceremonial blades, scales preserved under glass. Power radiated from every surface.
Ashton sat behind the desk, fingers steepled, eyes sharp and appraising. Drake sprawled in an armchair near the fireplace, one ankle propped on his knee, looking like he’d just woken from a bender or a century-long nap.
I closed the doors behind me and paced the perimeter, scanning every corner before settling in the chair opposite Ashton’s.
He watched me. "You wanted to talk?"
I didn’t waste time. "It’s Vivienne. She’s more than interested in Bryce, she’s fixated. She watched the whole thing like a hawk, and afterwards, she cornered me. Said hybrids like him are supposed to be impossible. She wants to help, but she said it like a threat."
Drake snorted. "She’s a witch, Zaden. They get off on being mysterious. Half their job is talking in riddles."
I shook my head. "No. This is different. The way she looked at him, at us, it wasn’t science. It was hunger."
Ashton’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t move, but I could feel the subtle shift in his energy. "You think she’s a danger to him?"
"Yes," I said, louder than I meant to. "And not just her. If the word gets out, what Bryce is, what he can do, every supernatural leech from here to New Orleans will come knocking."
Drake leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You’re not wrong. But Vivienne’s been part of this family’s circle for decades. If she wanted to take him, she’d have tried last night. Instead, she helped."
"She helped because she wants something," I shot back. "She even said it. ‘When the time comes, you’ll need me.’ I don’t trust her."
Ashton leaned back, a slow, deliberate move that reminded me who was alpha in this room. "You’re protective. That’s good. But maybe you’re letting the mate bond and the sudden jump to fatherhood get in your head. Vivienne’s an asset. We need her more than she needs us."
My jaw tensed. "You’re not listening."
Drake grinned, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Easy, brother. You’ve got what, twenty-four hours as an official dad? First-time syndrome hits dragons harder than it does humans. Next thing we know, you’ll be knitting him a fireproof blanket and checking under the bed for monsters."
I scowled. "He is the monster under the bed."
Drake’s laugh was genuine, warm. "That’s the spirit."