Chapter 5
Dungar
Iheld my breath as Riley’s body softened against mine, her breathing growing deeper as she sunk into sleep.
She felt both fragile and perfect in my arms, like I was holding someone precious I’d never known I was missing.
Moonlight seeped through the jail’s window, casting silver patterns across her face, highlighting the gentle curve of her cheek and the fan of her eyelashes against her skin.
My mating mark caught the light, a reminder of what the fates had decided.
The way my body responded to her nearness left me stunned. I’d never felt this overwhelming need to protect someone, to shelter them from every harsh element the world might throw their way.
Riley Smith was mine to protect, to cherish, to…love, eventually. The thought didn’t terrify me one bit. Instead, it made me feel like everything in my life was finally flowing in the direction it was meant to go.
I adjusted my arm carefully, not wanting to wake her as I pulled the scratchy wool blanket higher over her shoulder.
Her skin smelled like the saloon’s handmade rosemary soap.
She must’ve freshened up there before coming to meet me.
The scent mingled with something uniquely her—sunshine and warm honey and a hint of flowers.
“No,” Riley said, her body tensing against mine. “Please, don’t—”
Something dark had taken hold of her in her dreams. She clutched the blanket, her breathing growing rapid and shallow. Whimpers escaped her throat as she twisted in my arms.
“Riley,” I whispered, keeping my voice low and gentle. “Riley, you’re safe.”
She didn’t wake, locked in whatever nightmare was holding her captive. Her body trembled, and tears leaked from beneath her closed eyelids. The sight tore through me. My mate was suffering, and I couldn’t fight whatever haunted her dreams.
“Don’t hurt them,” she begged, her voice so small it nearly broke me. “I’ll do anything, just don’t—”
Unable to bear it any longer, I brushed my fingers across her cheek, wiping away the tears. “Riley, wake up. It’s a dream.”
Her eyes flew open, her gaze wild and unfocused. For one moment, she looked at me without recognition, fear making her go rigid in my arms.
“It’s Dungar,” I said, loosening my hold. “You’re in Lonesome Creek. You’re safe.”
Recognition dawned in her eyes, followed by a flush across her cheeks. “I—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” I kept my voice soft, fighting the urge to pull her closer. “Nightmares aren’t something you can control.”
She drew a shaky breath, her hand coming up to rest against my chest. Through my shirt, I could feel the warmth of her palm, the tremor in her fingers.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked.
“No.” The response came too quickly, though her tone softened. “Not really.”
I waited, giving her time to collect herself. Outside, an owl hooted, its lonely call echoing through the night.
“I dream about people I couldn’t protect,” she finally said, her voice barely audible. “People who trusted me.”
The admission held a world of meaning. Riley was carrying a burden far heavier than whatever cover story had brought her to Lonesome Creek.
“We can’t save everyone,” I said. “No matter how hard we try.”
Her eyes met mine in the darkness. “Is that what you tell yourself too?”
The question caught me off guard. Riley saw more than she let on, recognizing in me the same drive to protect, to make things right, that I sensed in her.
“Yes, when the world gets too messy and I can’t bring order to it,” I said.
She shifted, adjusting her position to see my face better. The movement brought her closer, her breath warm against my throat. “Is that why you need things organized? To feel like you have control over something?”
“Yes.” I’d never explained what drove me to anyone outside my family before. “When everything is in its proper place, I can think clearly. It turns down the volume on all the noise in my head.”
Riley nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. “We all have our coping mechanisms.”
“What’s yours?” I asked, tracing circles on her shoulder with my fingertip.
She paused. “Running, I guess. Never staying anywhere long enough to—” She stopped herself.
“To what?”
“To care too much,” she said. “About places. People.”
The vulnerability in her voice made my chest ache. Whatever had happened to Riley in her past had taught her that attachment meant pain. That connections were dangerous.
“And how’s that working for you?” I asked.
Her short laugh held no humor. “Well, I’m still alive. So there’s that.”
The words chilled me. Not a figure of speech, then. Whatever she was running from was truly life-threatening. I tightened my arms around her.
“You don’t have to run here.” My words held a promise I intended to keep with every part of my being. “Not in Lonesome Creek.”
“You can’t know that.” She might sound stiff, but she relaxed against me again. “You don’t even know what I’m running from.”
“I know you’re someone worth protecting, and that’s enough.”
Her fingers brushed against my chest, tracing an idle pattern. “You barely know me.”
“I’m a good judge of character,” I said. “Sheriff, remember?”
That earned a genuine smile, small but real. “Right. Because sheriffs are never wrong.”
“Not this one.” I matched her teasing tone while holding her gaze. “Especially about things that matter.”
Something shifted between us, almost like a bridge forming across the careful distance we’d both maintained. Riley’s eyes dropped to my mouth, holding there for a heartbeat before returning to meet my gaze.
The air between us crackled. If I lowered my head, and if she tilted her chin up just a fraction…
Shaking the thought away, I brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingertips trail along her cheek.
Her skin felt impossibly soft beneath my calloused hand, and I marveled at the contrast between us.
Her delicate features. My tusks and green skin.
Her small frame compared to my much larger one.
If my brothers hadn’t found mates with humans, I’d never believe it was possible.
Did I dare trust this could work out between us?
“We should try to sleep,” I said, though rest was the furthest thing from my mind.
“Yes.” She made no move to put distance between us.
Neither of us slept much that night. Instead, we drifted in and out of quiet conversation, sharing small, safe truths about ourselves while the larger secrets remained hidden.
I told her about growing up with so many siblings, about the underground caverns where insects peppering the roofs replaced the sun.
She told me about her love of cozy mystery novels and her talent for solving puzzles.
With each passing hour, the connection between us deepened. Heat spread through my body, a reminder of what she was to me, even if she didn’t yet understand.
As dawn lightened the sky outside the small window, Riley’s head rested on my chest, her body curved against mine. I slid my fingers through her silky hair, gently combing.
“The sun’s coming up,” she said, her voice husky with fatigue.
I watched golden light slowly creep across the floor. “Someone will come let us out soon.”
She nodded against my chest but made no move to pull away. “I should probably look more deputy-like when they do.”
“Probably.” I was equally reluctant to end what we’d built during the night.
We stayed where we were as the sky grew brighter. Birds began their morning calls, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear my brother, Sel, opening the bakery with his mate Holly, ready to start their day.
Eventually, the front door of the jail opened and Sel stepped inside, the fresh bag of pastries he brought me each morning in one hand. Halfway across the open room, he stopped short, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of us lying together on the narrow bunk.
“Well.” A slow smile spread across his face as his gaze dropped to my wrist, where the golden mating mark had taken root. “I see you took the chance to better know our new deputy.”
Riley stiffened, her cheeks brightening. But when I moved to create space between us, her hand squeezed mine in a silent acknowledgment that whatever had started in this cell wasn’t ending with our rescue.
For the first time in my orderly, carefully controlled life, I welcomed the beautiful chaos of possibility.