Chapter 9 Chance
Chance
I got home from the flight still juiced on altitude, my whole body vibrating under the surface.
Shifting back never felt simple, not for me.
There was always a little bit of the dragon left, scales itching right under my skin, vision too sharp, every nerve wired.
I tossed on old jeans and a black t-shirt, swiped a cloth over my jaw, and figured a walk to the mailbox would feel nice.
No such luck.
Halfway down the porch steps, I saw them. Two figures, definitely human, crouched by the creek that snaked at the edge of my property. They looked official. One with high rubber boots, the other in a neon vest so bright it belonged at a runway and not the fashion kind.
My heart dropped into my gut. That was private land, and nobody, not even mail carriers, came back here without a signed invitation. Our mailbox was out at the main road, a fifteen-minute walk from the house.
If I'd looped low on my landing, they would've seen the whole dragon show. Maybe they already had. My hands started to sweat.
Caden rumbled against my ribs. They're trespassing.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Livia. I didn't want to. Our last conversation had ended with both of us ready to bite steel. But I had to find out if she knew anything about these people on our land.
She answered on the second ring, her voice right out of an etiquette textbook. "Chance, darling. I'm so glad you called."
I didn't even breathe before I cut her off. "Are you expecting a government team on my land? There are two people by the creek right now. Orange vests, water sampling, the whole kit."
There was a pause. I could picture her in her kitchen, chin tilted just so, painfully perfect. She hesitated, but this time she sounded almost soft. "Is this about the conversation we had? Because I've been thinking—"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Mom, I'm not calling for your apology. I just need to know if you let anyone onto the property."
She let out a breath. I could hear the relief and the disappointment braided together. "Oh, wait, yes. Yes, I did. The hellbender conservation organization contacted me last month for stream access. I told them we'd support their research. I meant to tell you, but well, I'm sorry. I forgot."
The word "hellbender" flipped the switch.
Electricity shot down my spine. Hellbender meant salamanders.
Salamanders meant Tash. Heat shot through me so fast it almost stole my breath.
That same unmistakable spark I'd only ever felt once came roaring back, fierce and demanding.
I didn't want to name it. I didn't need to.
My body already knew exactly what it meant.
I almost laughed out loud.
Caden went nuts. She's here. She's near. Go, now!
I barely heard the rest of what Mom said.
She tried to spin it into this whole thing about cross-generational stewardship and the Meyer legacy, but I was gone.
I mumbled something that might've sounded like "thanks," then hung up and cut through the grass so fast I didn't even feel the ground under my boots.
The air was still cold enough to bite, but it didn't bother me a bit. I stomped down the slope toward the creek, wishing I could shift again just for the edge, but I didn't need dragon senses to know she was already there.
Tash. Wading mid-thigh in moving water, sleeves rolled, ponytail a little crooked, attitude dialed to maximum.
Seeing her again was like taking a hit to the sternum.
One second, I was just a man walking toward a creek.
The next, every nerve I had lit up like the night I'd had her under me, skin hot, breath quick.
My knees almost buckled. She was hunched over a sampling tray, every muscle in her back sharp and focused.
There were test tubes and a field book balanced on a rock, and she was filling vials while muttering to herself.
It was unfair how familiar her silhouette felt after all these years.
My body recognized her before my mind could catch up.
The curve of her neck, the way she braced her weight on one leg, even the way she breathed sent a punch of heat through my ribs.
A guy in the vest was upstream by the culvert, ignoring both of us. Worse for him. The second I saw her, the whole world tunneled down. Nothing else moved.
Caden slammed me with a hit of raw fury. She's OURS. She bore our hatchlings. Claim her!
The reaction tore through me so fast I almost stumbled.
I'd thought about her over the years, sure, but I never expected the sight of her to detonate something this intense.
One night shouldn't leave marks like this.
Except it had. I nearly staggered from his ferocity.
My hands curled into fists, and the heat rolled under my skin, that old firestorm coming alive in my chest. If I let Caden take over, I'd be across the water in a single bound, tearing up the stones, pulling her close.
I gritted my teeth. No way I was opening with "Hello, I'm your dragon mate. " I barely trusted myself to speak.
She hadn't seen me yet.
I took a step closer, using the crunch of rock to warn her I was coming in peace.
Caden was wound up tight, whispering, Home. She smells like home. Ours.
She smells like river mud, pond scum, and way too much determination, I shot back at him.
Tash finally looked up. Her eyes locked on me, and the shock rolled over her face.
First recognition, then suspicion, then a bit of fear.
There was something else, too. A flash of heat she tried to smother.
I saw it. Felt it. It hit me like a second wave, sharper than the first. She remembered.
Every damn second of that night was right there in the way she held herself.
She straightened, setting her sampler down with calculated patience.
There it was. Recognition. Not confusion, not polite curiosity. Recognition. Her eyes widened the same way they had right before she'd pulled me into that dark hallway seventeen years ago, her hand fisted in my shirt like she couldn't stand another second of distance.
I cleared my throat and went for total ignorance.
"Morning. I'm Chance Meyer. My family owns this land.
Just wanted to see who was out here." It came out steadier than I felt.
Inside, everything was on fire. My pulse, my lungs, the place low in my stomach that remembered exactly how her body had felt pressed against mine.
Her body language flipped from laser-focused pro to all-out, armor-up mode. She sized me up, chin high, eyes wary behind the smudges on her cheek, but she didn't back away. "We wanted to check the salamander density by this run. Is that a problem?" She was using an "I dare you" voice. I liked it.
Caden loved it. Strong mate. Take her—
I clenched my jaw so hard it might've cracked. "No problem," I managed, trying to keep my voice low and neutral. "Just caught me off guard. Most people give a heads up before hitting private streams."
She shrugged, turning back for her field book.
"If you'd like, I can find the records of the person who gave us permission.
We're just doing basic water quality and species count.
Nothing invasive." She rattled off the sentence without missing a beat.
Was I wrong? Didn't she remember me? But then she looked up, and I saw the old spark right there, hidden but alive.
I leaned against a boulder, hoping it would anchor me.
It didn't. Not even close. Being this close to her again had my body wound too tight, every sense tuned to her.
Her scent, her movements, the subtle tremor in her voice.
I'd forgotten how addictive that pull was.
Or maybe I'd never understood it until now.
"Not a problem. My family's been here forever.
Meyer blood, all the way back. We try to keep the land in good shape.
" I paused. "Especially the water. There's a lot of history in this creek. "
She nodded. "That's why we picked it. Old property, undisturbed banks. Hellbenders need stability, or they disappear." The words came out clipped, precise, but her hands shook just a little as she handled the test kit.
Caden raked claws through my skull. She's nervous. We could soothe her.
For a minute, I had to focus on breathing. Every muscle was locked up, ready to go off. My vision swam with Caden's heat, just a hair short of a full shift. I'd never lost it in front of a human before. It took everything I had to stay steady.
She moved farther out, doing more stuff with little vials.
Her boots slipped on algae, and she caught herself.
I flinched, reacting faster than I could think.
My whole body moved before my brain had a chance.
It wasn't instinct. It was that same helpless, magnetic force from years ago, the one that made it impossible to keep my distance even when I knew I should.
Tash, oblivious, tried again. This time, she stepped onto a rock slick as oil. Her boot skidded out, and she pitched sideways, arms flailing for balance.
I was in the water before she fell. When I caught her, everything inside me dropped straight through the floor. Her body against mine felt exactly the same. Warm. Solid. Familiar in a way that made no sense after one night and nearly two decades.
Dragon reflexes, there was no other way to describe it. I grabbed her waist, one arm locking around her before she could even hit the current. Water splashed everywhere, freezing cold against my calves, but all I felt was the heat of her body pressed to mine.
She tensed from head to toe. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Up close, her hair smelled like leaves and something citrusy, plus a blast of adrenaline.
Her eyes went wide. She stared up at me, breathing hard. "That, uh, wow. Fast reflexes."
"I played a lot of sports as a kid," I said, my voice coming out all husky and low. My hands didn't want to let go. Caden was purring so loud I could barely hear myself think.
It took real effort to step back and steady her with just my hands.
Letting her go felt wrong in a way that rattled me.
The second the heat of her left my arms, every part of me, especially my dragon, screamed to pull her back.
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw popped.
There was a moment, right before the gap widened, where it felt like we might never let go.
I forced a smile, trying for casualness. "We get a lot of balance practice around here. Wet rocks, loose gravel, you name it."
She blinked, finding her footing again. She was flushed, but she covered fast. "Thanks. I would've been soaked."
I shrugged, pretending I wasn't soaked myself now. "It's nothing. The water's clean. Best in the valley, according to the old-timers."
She looked at the sampler still clutched in her hand, then back at the creek, then at me. "We'll find out. My project's got a six-month timeline, but it could be longer if the data comes back weird."
The timeline hit like a punch. Caden surged, teeth bared. She's leaving? No. Claim her. Now.
My temples pounded. All the polite words vanished.
She turned, intending to keep sampling, but I couldn't let it drop. Not with the fire burning holes in my control.
I grabbed her wrist, gentle but firm. She froze, staring at me.
All I saw were those brown eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw, the memory of a summer night that never really faded.
My vision flared. I felt it, raw and real, the dragon fire leaking into my irises.
"We need to talk," I told her. I tried to keep it soft, but it came out rough, every syllable edged with power. Alpha to the bone.
She heard it. Her pupils went huge. She pulled her hand back like it burned.
Before she could answer, I fished out a surprisingly dry Sweet Dragon Bakery card from my back pocket and pressed it into her palm. I dropped her hand like it might break and turned away. Caden roared in protest, snapping and clawing to get me to stay, to take the mate, to demand the truth.
My boots squelched in the mud. I'd barely made it five steps before she called after me, voice uncertain.
"Wait, are you okay? You look… I mean, you seem like you're in pain."
I almost laughed, but all that came out was a dry rasp. "Just had some really spicy food," I lied without looking back. "Hits harder than you'd think."
Under my breath, I added, "Yeah, the kind that breathes fire and wants to break loose and drag you into a cave for the next ten years."
Every footstep up the hill was a wrestling match. Caden whined and rattled the bars, clawing for another glimpse, hungry for that wild, impossible connection.
I forced my breathing to slow and managed to make it back to the house without shifting.
That was the first real contact in seventeen years, and I'd almost blown it by shifting in front of her.
I dug my nails into my palms and waited for my damn dragon to cool. Not much chance of that happening any time soon.
We'd done it. Came face-to-face, almost combusted, and then walked away.
But everything inside me knew this was only the start.
Let's see what happens when she comes to the bakery. Odds were good I'd combust all over again or worse.
For now, though, I just tried to hold myself together. Caden prowled along every nerve ending, replaying the heat of her against me, griping about the missed opportunity.
I let him rant. A man could only do so much in one day.