Chapter 3
Sting
She smells like flowers, salt, earthy sweat, and limes. It’s possible they both do—sisters judging by their looks and stances. But the shorter one, rounder, curvier, most delectable one, with the short umber hair—she’s the one who’s scent sings to me, calls me closer. Too close for comfort.
Slowing my pace as I approach them, I sigh at their stupidity. They must both be idiots to be out under the blazing sun with no water, no sun protection, and dainty flip flops on their feet.
But by the gods, she’s my idiot.
Ah, there it is, a whiff of tequila. If I were a betting male, I’d bet they are lost from Vegas.
How? No clue; they’re at least two miles off the highway, and I haven’t heard a vehicle in over an hour.
Maybe they’re witches and magicked themselves here.
Or maybe they’re on the verge of collapsing from dehydration and heat exhaustion.
Only time, and talking to them, will tell.
Adjusting my tail and my hat, I approach them cautiously. I don’t want to scare them.
“Hello! Can you help us?” Mine shouts at me. I shouldn’t have worried about scaring them. I should worry about their lack of understanding of the dangerous and precarious situation they’ve somehow put themselves in.
“Hello. Yes. Are you injured?” I don’t smell blood, but given those shoes, I’d be shocked if one of them doesn’t twist an ankle or obtain a bite from a rattlesnake.
“No. But we are stranded,” mine begins to say.
“And really hot! Is there a bar around?” The other one says. Now that I’m three feet away, I can read the glittery “brIDE” letters on the taller one’s shirt. Bridal party. I bite my lip, drawing blood, to avoid chastising them.
“Ignore my sister. We need access to a phone to call her fiancé and try to get a ride. Our tour guide left us out here.”
The blood within me boils at this. I want to hunt down this tour guide and show him just how wrong he was to abandon these two women in the desert.
And then show him what happens when he hurts my mate.
My idiotic mate. The spot on my chest aches, gnawing at me, telling me that without a doubt I’ve found my mate.
Soon there will be the faded mark of being mated, a tattoo for the rest of my life.
“I can bring you to my place and you can call from there. Signal doesn’t work out here.”
“What do you mean ‘signal doesn’t work?’” The bride asks, one sunburnt hand on her hip.
“There’s nothing out here but snakes, scorpions, and an occasional coyote.
None of them need cellphones.” The bride jumps at the list of animals.
My mate doesn’t, but she does look around her feet; maybe she isn’t as idiotic as I first thought.
It would be nice to not have to worry about her daily survival.
“Is it far?” My mate asks, shifting from foot to foot, stretching one of her adorable feet. Yes, I would expect her feet to hurt after walking over the hot rocks for miles.
“It is, but I can carry you.”
They look at each other and laugh. I let them. It’s fine. “Or you can walk. Five more miles that way.” I raise an arm and point into the wilderness. There’s a rise, and then a dark shadow that is the facade of my ranch.
“We don’t mean to be rude,” my mate says, pinning me with her electric blue eyes. I’ve kept my hat low over my brow, but her gaze still pierces me. “Maybe you could carry my sister Lily, but there’s no way you can carry both of us.” She gestures between her and her sister.
I let my tail free, long, armored, curling. With an arch of my shoulders, I let free my other legs. “You’ll both fit. Trust me.”
Lily squeaks, as to be expected. Her response doesn’t bother me. I’d happily leave her here to fend for herself if I didn’t think that would upset my mate.
My mate, who doesn’t scream or shirk away, but rather squints, studying me. I love the feel of her eyes on me, from head to tail, inspecting me. She walks slowly around me, taking in all of me. Not a splash of fear in her scent.
“I don’t know how we didn’t notice. You’re remarkable.” The words on her tongue are delicious. I could explain how I hide in plain sight. But I’m too busy soaking in her praise. It’s glorious.
I’ve prided myself on living alone. Staying away from people—whether human or monster.
Not needing to depend on anyone. But this damned mate mark pulses with delight at everything she does.
Hell, I don’t even know her name! Yet my body reacts to every minute movement of hers as if we’re magnets conducting a dance, this way and that.
She is my North Pole, dragging me toward her with every heartbeat.
“How will this work?” she asks. I stretch and drop onto my extra legs.
“Like this,” I say. I can sense the flutter of excitement in her when I say the words. She nods and steps closer.
Her hand on my hip is fire. Magic. Destiny.
Everything I need and nothing I knew I wanted.
It takes great restraint to control myself.
To not put my hand over hers, drag it along my body, pull her into me and kiss her.
Her lips are bright red—probably dehydration and sunburn—yet they call to me like nectar to a hungry bee.
“You sure about this? My sister is a big girl,” the bride says with a false cheeriness.
My stinger flies toward her before a cognizant thought runs through my brain. All I want is to hurt the people who hurt my mate—whether physically, mentally, or emotionally. How dare she say something so insulting and rude?
“Your sister,” the words are a growl as I slide my hat up to pin her with my stare. My tail stops inches from her, “is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. I suggest you keep your vile thoughts to yourself. Especially if you don’t want to be left behind.”
“Hyacinth,” my mate whispers, voice trembling. “My name is Hyacinth. And I don’t need you to protect me. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” She waves the words away like they’re a pesky fly, her voice gathering strength with each word.
“Hyacinth,” the name is honey on my lips.
Rich, sweet, flowing. It’s my new favorite word, flower, sound.
“This is where you are wrong. It’s my destiny to protect you.
It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sting. Now, both of you, get on if you want a ride.
” I turn away, readying myself for whatever they both choose.
Something tells me that Hyacinth won’t leave Lily.
Loyal, devoted. Lily doesn’t know how good she has it.
“I’m sorry, Hy,” Lily whispers, her voice full of tears. Her sister shushes her and reaches out a hand for her. Then she pauses.
“Sting? Are you in a band?” Hyacinth asks. I catch the hint of a smile in her eyes.
“I could be,” is all the response I give.
Together, they slide a leg over my back, and I take off, not bothering to ask if they’re ready. Though I wish it were only Hyacinth on my back, straddling me, riding me into the sunset, I’ll take whatever I can get. I may look monstrous on the outside, but I’m not one on the inside.
Most of the time.
My ranch is humble looking from the outside, purposefully. I enjoy Lily’s scrunched nose as she takes in the outside of my small, dusty home. Once again, Hyacinth isn’t put off by me or my house, making me wondering how the two are related.
Hyacinth slips off my back, her feet gently thudding in the sand. My back aches—not from them riding me, but from the absence of her. Every cell craves the feel of her presence on me.
“Gods, I hope it has air conditioning,” Lily groans as she walks away from us and toward the front door.
Hyacinth hisses at her to be quiet, then looks at me with an apologetic look in her eye.
I never want to hear her apologize to me.
I shake my head at her. “The house is fully modern,” I say, voice loud for Lily’s benefit, too.
“Climate-controlled. I even have an ice machine.” A smile twitches at Hyacinth’s lips at that, making my heart twitch in response. Such a lovely barely-there smile.
“What do you do way out here by yourself?” Hyacinth asks, curiosity in her voice and in her eyes as she takes in the sight of my home.
“Come on, let’s get you some water and the phone.”