But no woman was meant for him. Devin released her, grabbed his unfinished coffee, and retreated. She could see herself out. He needed time alone, to wrangle his beast into submission because if he let it, the beast would hunt her down and drag her back.
Devin couldn’t get her scent out of his nose. He couldn’t recall if the reporter touched anything in the house, but somehow her scent clung to everything. It made his heart race. His beast squirmed inside him, but Devin couldn’t tell what it wanted to say. The creature wouldn’t reveal its secrets to him.
He watched the reporter drive away the same way he’d watched her arrive, from the bedroom balcony. He knew that scent. It lingered somewhere in the back of his mind, trapped behind years of memories.
His beast growled. Devin tightened his grip on the railing as he threw mental chains over the beast inside him. The creature had caused enough trouble for one lifetime. It’d turned an entire pack against Devin. Seven years had worked to heal over the previous five that he’d messed up, but the pack still didn’t treat him like one of their own.
Devin paced the outside of it all. He was not pack, not quite. He was not Atticus’s brother, just distant blood. The beast asked for more. It wanted, aching and craving, but Devin had nothing to give it.
The woman, the beast hissed. Moira.
The familiar name took up space in Devin’s mind. He’d met a Moira before. The soft, mousy haired brunette had comforted him after he messed up with Atticus and Frankie. That Moira had been a balm on his soul in a time when he felt like he didn’t have one. The Moira he met eight years ago, for a single night, had filled Devin with a new kind of fire.
While the reporter wasn’t the same woman, he wanted to cling to her as if she were that same savior. He wanted her to hold him and wipe away the memories of all the nasty things he’d done. Devin couldn’t turn back time, though. He couldn’t un-wreck Frankie’s precious blue Volkswagen Beetle, even though she acted like she’d forgiven him.
His cousin’s wife was a different kind of woman, with a personality that was a mix of saint and pit-bull.
As if his thoughts had summoned her, the new blue Volkswagen sped down the winding driveway toward his house. Devin waited on the balcony like a gargoyle protecting his cathedral. Except, the house wasn’t a cathedral. It was nothing more than a sad bachelor pad.
Frankie leapt out of the car and immediately opened the back door. Out sprang a dragonling with white hair tied back in twin braids. She raced toward the front door while Frankie yelled after her.
“Uncle Devo!” Crystal shouted through the house. “Uncle Devo!”
She found him on the balcony and threw a stuffed creature at his face. Perpetually startled by the speed of the tiny girl-child, he didn’t get out of the way before it slapped him unceremoniously and fell into his hands. What he’d thought was a stuffed bat turned out to be a little white dragon.
“It’s just like you!” he said as he knelt to hand it back to her.
Frankie appeared behind her daughter, looking exhausted and pleased all at once. Devin tried to ignore the new bump growing beneath her loose clothing since neither she nor Atticus had announced their second child yet. He wondered when they would tell the pack. Althea would bend over backwards to help Frankie if only they would let her.
“So, how did your interview go?”
Crystal bounced on her heels before rocketing onto the bed inside. She tossed the stuffed dragon in the air, not caring about the conversation the adults were about to have.
“I think I chased her away,” Devin confessed.
He could feel her pulse in his hand again, the silkiness of her skin against his palm. Would he call her back if he could? Would he beckon her into the bedroom so he could rid himself of the feelings tying him to her?
No. He would no longer indulge the greedy beast crouched inside him. If he let it, the beast would scrabble for everything within reach. It would steal and lie and cheat just to have a scrap to itself. Devin no longer wanted to be that man.
Frankie moved to sit on the edge of his bed and managed to catch the back of Crystal’s coat before the child crashed into the lamp on the nightstand. Frankie yanked her daughter back before she could break anything and redirected her toward the door. Giggles erupted from the girl before she careened into the hall.
Devin watched with amusement, but Frankie heaved a sigh.
“Don’t worry,” Devin told her. “Anything she breaks can be replaced. Use it as a lesson and move on.”
“And if she breaks a bone?” Frankie stared at the open door.
“She’s a dragon,” Devin said as if that explained everything. Which, it did.
Powerful shifters healed faster than any other. Being a dragon shifter with boundless energy, Crystal would undoubtedly bounce back from any injury she sustained. He didn’t blame Frankie for worrying. It showed her love.
Atticus had found himself a patient mate. Devin and she had gotten off on the wrong foot—because of Devin’s awful ways—but she seemed to have forgiven him. He knew she was behind the reporter knocking on his door. While he appreciated that they wanted him to have the same kind of happiness they had, Devin knew he didn’t deserve it.
“You can’t be alone forever,” Frankie reminded him, her voice soft. “You need to stick around for Crystal. How can I tell her that her Uncle Devo burrowed and gave in to an eternal sleep?”
His lip curled. “Are you trying to use guilt on me?”
She shrugged. “Would it work?”
He grumbled something noncommittal, but they both knew that meant yes. Devin adored his niece, even if she technically wasn’t his niece. She was, perhaps, the only shifter besides Frankie who could look at him with untainted love.
He cherished them both. Which meant there was no more room for women in his life. He didn’t need the little reporter or her scathing tongue. He didn’t need his hand around her throat, or her lips parted for him.
Hissing a curse, Devin spun around and leaned over the balcony railing. Snow began to fall, evaporating into steam the moment it touched his skin. Thoughts of the reporter swirled in his mind and filled him with heat. The beast wanted to take to the skies. It wanted to search high and low for her and steal her away like a princess in a fairy tale.
But she was no princess. She was a woman with a job. While that job might include him for now, it wouldn’t always revolve around him. She would move on with her life and write articles about bigger and better things, forgetting all about him in the end.
Chapter Two
Moira sat at her desk and listened to the interview on repeat. It wasn’t enough. It was just a recording of them verbally assaulting each other. She could write a flowery interpretation of the exchange that painted Devin in a better light, but she’d wanted to turn this article into something bigger.
She’d hoped Devin would recognize her, that they could build some sort of bridge that would allow her a glimpse into his life. She hadn’t changed that much in the past few years. She reached for her hair, wondering if the red tone had thrown him off. At the time, the auburn dye had seemed like a good idea, but now she wondered if that was what had confused him.
Dying it again didn’t seem like a good idea, mostly because she didn’t want to do it on her own or waste money at the salon when she’d just gotten it done. Moira dug a compact mirror from her purse to peer at herself. She looked alright. Devin was just a stuck-up snob.
Someone tapped on her desk. She snapped upright and found her boss staring down at her with a tight grin.
“How’s that article going? Do you think it will be ready for the website by tomorrow morning?”
She cringed inwardly. “Oh, um, I’m not sure I got what I needed from the initial interview. I might need another chance to talk to Mr. VanTassel.”
Her boss twisted his lips to the side in thought. She expected him to deny her and give her a new assignment if she thought she couldn’t complete this one. Instead, he granted her extra
time. He gave her a number to call, apparently Devin’s sister-in-law was the one who’d asked for the article.
Moira tapped her fingers over the piece of paper and debated what she would say to Francine VanTassel. The name made her seem like someone she would have to call Madam. In her mind, she envisioned an older woman with a prim personality.
The woman who answered the phone seemed undone. A child screeched in the background and Francine tore the receiver away from her face long enough to yell at the girl.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Francine said once she returned. “Who is this again?”
Moira slipped out of her seat and took the call to a conference room where no one could overhear her. “My name is Moira Applegate…”
“Oh! The reporter! I would ask how the interview went, but this is Devin we’re talking about. Of course, it went horrible.”
Moira paused. “What makes you say that?”
“My brother-in-law is a bit of a stick in the mud. We’re looking forward to finding someone who can shake him up a bit. He needs an adventurous soul…you should write that down,” Francine said.
“Actually, I was wondering if you could help me schedule another chance to interview Mr. VanTassel,” Moira asked.
“What?” Francine paused, her tone sharpening. Static filled the phone and then Francine let out a burst of laughter. “I’m so sorry! For a moment, I thought you meant my husband. I forgot Devin has the same last name. Sorry, my mind is a bit scattered at the moment.”
Moira felt bad for asking Mrs. VanTassel for help. She seemed overwhelmed as it was. Moira shouldn’t have been bothering the woman. From the sounds of it, Francine VanTassel wasn’t an older woman, but a young mother. She had her hands full with the hellion in the background.
“How about this,” Moira began. “If you can set me up with another opportunity to interview Devin VanTassel, I will babysit for you and your husband. Is that fair?”
Francine paused. The moment stretched on, like the young mother didn’t know if this was a good deal or not. It seemed like a jackpot to Moira, but she wasn’t a mother. Maybe Francine was the overprotective type that didn’t want to leave her only child in the hands of a stranger.
“I’ll set up the interview for you,” Francine agreed. “You don’t have to babysit. I’m sure you’re great with kids, but you’ve never met a child quite like Crystal. I’m not worried about her. It’s you I’d be worried about.”
Moira opened her mouth to argue, but when she couldn’t find reason to press the issue, she agreed. Her heart did small flips in her chest, overly excited to see Devin again. Moira told herself she was excited for the chance to write a better article. It had nothing to do with the memory of the one-night stand still drifting through her mind.
***
This time, Moira made sure her travel mug was filled to the brim with black coffee. She wore a top that plunged between her breasts. Her lace bra had little straps that peeked out from under her blouse, enticing the eye toward her chest. She’d used this tactic before. Men were more willing to talk to women they believed to be stupid, like they didn’t think she could remember the things they spilled out in front of her.
Somehow, men equated big breasts with stupidity. Moira would use their idiocy to her advantage every time. She left her jacket open so that the first thing Devin saw would be her chest and marched up to the front door.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Moira paused, hand halfway to the door. She glanced over her shoulder. Unsure of what she should expect, she scanned the dark woods around her. Nothing creaked. No snow fell from tree boughs. No ice cracked.
The world was utterly silent.
Then she heard the rustle of branches. She searched the tangle of tree boughs and realized that whatever moved would have to be very large to reach the branches. Chills swept down her spine and made her clutch her coat tighter. She swallowed, eyes still on the woods.
A shadow moved under the branches. She couldn’t quite pierce the darkness to make out any details, but there was no mistaking the movement. It slithered toward the back of the house.
Moira bit her lower lip. She’d gotten her job through a mixture of curiosity and bravery. Everyone joked that it would someday kill her, a warning that should have been on the back of her mind as she crept around the side of the house to peer into the back yard.
A small grove circled the back of the house. There was a fire pit in the middle and several chairs covered with tarps for the season. Moira pressed herself against the side of the house, grateful for her dark coat and pants that would make her meld with the siding. The shadow beneath the trees moved back and forth.
She held her breath, waiting. There weren’t many animals in this quiet part of New York. She thought it might be a deer with antlers so tall they grazed the tree branches, but a part of her doubted it. Bears weren’t all that common in this area, though a few had been seen in the past years. Mountain lions were making a comeback, but they didn’t climb trees.
Did they?
What stepped out from the woods was not a deer, a bear, or a lion. Devin ducked his head and shook snow from his hair. His pants weren’t buttoned, the fly open. Her mind reeled. Nothing made sense. Devin wouldn’t have been large enough to disturb all those branches. What she’d seen should have been much larger in the light.
He made his way toward the back door. Her heart lurched into overdrive and she scrambled back toward the front. From what she’d seen, Devin had been walking the woods in the cold temperatures wearing nothing more than a pair of pants. Maybe not even that. He might have put the pants on right before he left the woods.
Moira, trapped in her thoughts, squealed when the door opened behind her. She slapped her hand over her heart. Devin watched her, one brow raised.
“I’ve been told I wasn’t rude enough to drive you away the first time,” he purred. The tone of his voice warred with his words.
The tone invited her inside while the words made her wary. Against her better judgement, she followed him inside. There would be no story if she ran away from him. She didn’t want to write a piece about how the millionaire liked cold walks in the woods. The shadow she’d seen had to be the real story.
Right?
Moira shook her head. She must have been seeing things. There was nothing in those woods. This was Northern New York. Nothing wild happened here. The great lakes down the river had stories of lake monsters, but her hometown was sleepy and boring.
Unlike the man prowling in front of her. He’d taken the time to throw on a t-shirt today, but it curled around his waist and revealed the intriguing black ink. She wanted to peel the fabric back and explore the changes he’d made since they last slept together. Her fingers tingled with desire.
She caught herself reaching toward him and curled her fingers into a fist that she held at her side. This was silly. She couldn’t let her feelings get in her way. Her story was more important. She repeated it like a mantra, over and over, and missed everything Devin said.
“Oh, what was that?” Her cheeks heated with embarrassment.
“Let’s just get this over,” Devin growled without turning to face her.
She scowled. “Is that what you say to women in your bedroom, too?”
He laughed as he turned around, but Moira shrugged off her jacket and revealed the low-cut blouse underneath, and his laugh died on his lips. The fire in his eyes raged, brighter than ever. She thought he would sweep her up and slam her against the wall. In fact, she wanted it. Her core throbbed under his hungry gaze.
“I see you came here to test the ride,” he said, eyes still roving her skin. “I hate to tell you, but I’m not a car you can take for a spin and write a neat little review about.”
She smirked. “I don’t like to fuck and tell.”
Just like how she wouldn’t tell him that he was a ride she’d already tried. If he couldn’t remember her, she wouldn’t waste her time. A small voice inside her called out to him.
It wanted her to wave her arms and shout her name to make him remember her. But she’d already given her name. If he remembered her, he said nothing.
Their shared night must have meant about as much to him.
“How many of these dating articles have you written?” Devin asked. He’d taken a step closer.
She couldn’t recall seeing him move, but he suddenly loomed over her. Waves of heat washed off him and made a fine sweat break out over her skin. His nostrils flared, like he could smell her. She hadn’t put on any perfume or body spray. She shouldn’t have smelled of anything, save maybe coffee.
“It’s not often that we have an eligible bachelor in our neighborhood,” she replied. “I’ve never written an article about a man like you before.”
He smirked.
“Can you tell me why you and your family avoid the general public?”
His smile fell. He backed away from her, a mask going down over his features while the fire in his eyes banked. She was sad to see it go, but she had a job to do. There was a bigger story here. All she had to do was push and prod until she uncovered it.
“Do you want lunch, Tits?” Devin angled toward the kitchen.
Moira stopped dead in her tracks. “Did you just call me Tits? That’s sexual harassment, sir.”
He threw a knowing look over his shoulder. “Like you didn’t come here hoping they would scramble my brains? I’m not upset, but you should know your trick won’t work on me. They look great and all, but I wouldn’t be vice president of my company if I let myself get bamboozled by every pair of breasts that walked by.”
“I can’t tell if that’s chivalrous or devious.” Moira followed Devin into the kitchen.
“I call it being a proper man,” Devin said. “Now, would you like a grilled bologna and cheese for lunch? Or are you more of a frozen pizza type of gal?”
She burst out laughing. When Devin offered to make lunch, she’d envisioned a cheese plate or something else as extravagant. She’d thought him the kind of man who enjoyed his money.
Dragon Desire (Tooth & Claw Book 1) Page 2
