by Tamsin Baker
I stood up straighter, frowning at the logic. “That doesn’t make sense.”
His parents weren’t fated mates. They couldn’t have been- or they would have been happy.
For all we knew they could have been two complete strangers who were forced to marry and have a dozen children.
That would not have worked for ninety percent of people, especially not two rare shifters who could have had anyone they wanted.
Rogan shrugged. “It does to Fridge.”
I opened my mouth to rebut the point, then stopped. There was no point getting into a fight with Rogan over this. It was Fridge I had to sort it out with. But how?
I had to think for a minute, so I went to the oven, checked on the chips, and decided to start cooking the steaks. I put the frying pan on the flame, sprayed it with some oil and salt, and laid the red steaks down to sizzle.
They didn’t take long to cook, so I got out some drinks and cutlery, then served up our dinner at the dining table as soon as it was ready.
“Wow. That looks great, thanks.” Rogan’s face lit up as I placed a plate in front of him of similar proportions I would have for my father.
Twice what any normal man would eat.
“No problem.”
I sat down with him at the table, and we ate in pleasant silence. Once I’d gotten half the steak into my belly, I looked up, my head clearer to think.
“Let me see if I’ve gotten this straight,” I said. “Fridge had a shit childhood.”
Something, I couldn’t really empathize with.
Yes, my mother had died when I was three years old, a trauma most people would count as absolutely life altering. But I barely remembered her, and my father had done such a good job of raising me, I really couldn’t complain.
“So, he... what?” I continued. “Doesn’t want a mate? Or...is it me in particular he doesn’t want?”
I was sure a man like Fridge would want a wife long term. And children.
So what was his problem?
Lots of people had crappy parents, shit childhoods. In my career, let alone my adolescence, I’d met dozens of them.
But that didn’t put them off relationships forever.
Rogan shook his head while he swallowed his food. “Oh... it’s not you. Quite the opposite. I know he wants you.”
“How?” Other than the obvious, possessive caveman crap?
Rogan ate some more steak and grinned. “Well, you’re like... everything he’s ever wanted in a female. Beautiful, tough, smart.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. That sounded like a list from some dating app. “Well, thanks... but that’s hardly a reason to want someone.”
Rogan shrugged. “He’s a simple guy. But he’s always wanted to fall in love naturally. Slowly. This situation is his worst nightmare. Lots of adrenaline and danger forcing us all to make stupid decisions. Instant attraction, and then your outright acceptance of a fated mate link...” Rogan chuckled. “Fridge’s head is, well....”
“Conflicted?” I finished for him.
Rogan laughed. “Fucked. Totally fucked.”
Of course, it was. Stupid dragon. Why couldn’t it just be simple?
I got up from my chair at the dining table and walked over to my dad’s liquor cabinet which stood against the wall, opposite the kitchen. It was well stocked, to say the least.
I opened the door and grabbed the bottle of vodka. It was time for a drink.
I held out the bottle of un-opened spirits. “Join me? Or if you want bourbon or whatever... Dad has everything.”
“Vodka’s great. Straight.”
I nodded, grabbed some glasses Dad kept on to the top shelf of his cabinet, and poured. I gave Rogan his straight. Only men did that, I’d found.
He tossed back a double shot, and I poured him another.
I gave myself a double, added a splash of orange juice from the fridge, then drank it. Fast.
“Argh...” I winced as the fire water slid down my throat. More juice in the next one.
I was still standing next to the table with one hand on my hip and the other wrapped around the vodka bottle, staring down at my wolf shifter mate.
He leaned back and stretched out his legs in front of him as though he had all the time in the world.
I put the bottle down. “So, let me get this straight. Because I was honest, and admitted that I felt the fated mate pull, I’ve doomed my relationship with Fridge?”
What a fucked-up way of punishing me for being open with him.
Rogan frowned. “No, not forever. Once all the other stuff settles down, I’m sure he’ll be better.”
“You mean, all the murder stuff?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Was the ‘my father was murdered’ stress ever going to be over? I didn’t think so. And even then, it wasn’t like a life with two bounty hunters as mates was ever going to be quiet.
Rogan threw back his second double shot. “Ah, yeah.”
I poured us both another drink and sat down in the chair closest to him.
“Okay, bear with me. Fridge hates the fact that we’re fated mates—but we are, there’s no question there for me. And although he’s being an ass, you think he’s into me.”
“Yep.”
I snorted. “So, if I was a normal girl he’d met at a bar, or in the street, he’d be fine with me.”
“As long as you didn’t proclaim to be his fated mate, yeah, pretty much.”
I growled through clenched teeth, letting my shifter genetics rile me up. “That is so wrong! His parents weren’t fated! Does he even know what it means? It means we are perfect for one another. That we will be miserable if we’re not together.”
I drank my vodka and juice, enjoying the wave of intoxication that was begging to swell in my blood stream.
But I wasn’t done. “He’s screwed up. Seriously. Doesn’t he realize that being fated mates is awesome. We don’t have to second guess anything. We don’t have to worry that we’ll be faithful, or our love will last. We are made for each other.”
I shook my head and reached for the vodka bottle. We’d drunk half of it already, and I didn’t care.
I’d drink the whole bottle with Rogan tonight if it meant dulling down the ache in my chest. The pain in my head. The anger in my gut.
Bloody dragon.
I poured us both another drink that was way more than a double, sat back in my chair, and stared at my glass.
Why had I told him?
I should have pretended it was just a physical attraction and kept my mouth shut.
“Ah... what about me?” Rogan said quietly.
I glanced up. “What about you?”
He rolled the tumbler glass between his hands, from one palm to the other. “Do you believe that about us too... Or just Fridge?”
I groaned aloud. Shit. I hadn’t even thought about how Rogan would feel hearing me vent about Fridge.
Mental note. Just because this guy is going to become your best friend in the whole world, does not mean he doesn’t want to be treated like he’s my reason for existing as well.
I stood up, stumbled forward, and sat down in his lap.
The alcohol had definitely gone to my head. My legs were slightly shaky and there was a strange hot zinging of awareness along my arms and legs.
Perfect.
I finished the rest of my drink, then placed it on the table before I put my arms around Rogan’s neck.
“Are you wondering how I feel about you, my wolf?” I asked, smiling up at him.
His hands slid around my waist and his gaze shifted, his gorgeous blue eyes sliding into a silver.
“Of course, I am,” he said, shuffling us both as he sat up straighter in his chair. “I know I’m not... well, a dragon shifter, but I still want you. In every way. Fated mate, or not.”
I ran my fingers up the back of his neck and tangled them in the hair on the back of his head, cupping his skull.
“You’re my fated mate as well, Rogan. I knew i
t the moment I saw you.”
His eyes went wide. “How is that possible?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But my dad always joked that it would take more than one man to handle me. I didn’t believe him, of course. In fact, as I’m only a quarter wolf, I wasn’t sure I’d have a fated mate at all. I was quite settled on the fact that I’d have a normal marriage.”
“So, your parents weren’t fated mates?” he asked.
I ran my nails through his hair, over and over again, and he arched into my caress.
I tilted my head to the side. “No... I don’t think so. My dad never referred to my mom in that way, and I was too young when she died to have heard it from her.”
Though, it wasn’t impossible. After all, my father had never moved on after she died. Few people had that sort of devotion unless they lost their fated mated.
“Then how do you know so much about it?” he asked, then dropped his head, putting his face into my neck and breathing deep.
Desire began to spiral inside my veins, my eyes closing on a wave of lust. “Ah... my mother’s family. My dad’s... uncle. They all talked about it. Explained to me how it would feel.”
Rogan lifted his head so that his lips were near my ear. I dug my fingers into his shoulders and clung to his heat, wanting him as close to me as possible.
“How do you feel, Sadie? Tell me.”
I shivered, moaning at the intense heat pulsing through my body. He was so close, so kissable. If I just...
“Tell me, beautiful girl. How does the fated mate bond feel to you?”
I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. The alcohol was keeping my limbs heavy and my eyes closed.
“Like an addiction,” I said, swallowing hard as I fought against the need to give him the full truth. The alcohol, unfortunately, lowered all inhibitions. “Like I need you, want you, crave you. I want you to fight me... fuck me... I want you in every part of my life, and I never want you to leave me.”
He groaned in my ear. One hand went down to cup my ass and the other came up grab my cheek.
He guided my face towards his and our lips finally met. I gasped at the heat of his touch, the perfection of his mouth on mine.
And when he pressed deeper and swept his tongue through my mouth, I melted into a puddle.
The doorbell rang. We sprung apart like a couple of teenagers caught on prom night.
Rogan frowned, glancing towards the sound. “Who...”
There was a loud pounding on the door that could mean only one thing.
The dragon was here.
Chapter 12.
I looked into Rogan’s eyes as they changed back from silver to blue, and grinned. “Do you think if we ignore him, he’ll go away?”
More banging on the door ensued and Fridge growled. “I can hear you, you know.”
I laughed loudly. “Oh, my god. How good is his hearing?”
I really needed to do some research on dragons.
“So, we can’t ignore him, okay. Fine.” I staggered out of Rogan’s lap and made my way to the front door, which unfortunately was way too far away for me at this point in time.
I giggled when I couldn’t walk in a straight line, and I was so incredibly tempted to make him wait, that I did.
“Who is it?” I called out, and there was a deep growled response.
“We don’t need any!” I called again, then killed myself laughing while trying really hard to stay upright.
God, this felt good.
With how my arms and legs were loose and tingly, I was pretty sure I had more vodka in my blood, than blood.
“Sadie! Open this door now, before I knock it in.”
“I’d like to see you try!” I called out. My dad had that door re-enforced with steel. Even a dragon wouldn’t get through it.
Fridge went silent and fear tickled along my spine. He wouldn’t really try to knock it down, would he?
He’d hurt himself!
“Okay!” I called out. “I’m coming. Hold your horses!”
I took three more steps, fell against the door, and unlocked each of the locks.
I leaned to the side and the door burst open. Thank god I was out of the way.
I peered around the corner. Fridge stood on my front stoop looking like a Viking on a war path.
His hands were clenched into tight fists. His arm muscles bugled like they’d doubled in size, and his usually green eyes were bright yellow.
Yikes.
“Hey,” I said and he twisted around to look at me, his gaze skimming me from head to toe and back again.
I knew what he was thinking. That Rogan and I should have started by now.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Disappointed I’m not naked yet?”
I still wore the clothes I’d had on all day, and although I’d taken my hair out at some point, I didn’t look much different to when he’d seen me an hour ago.
He’d been expecting a fight and had prepared for one.
But now he was deflating. Literally.
His bulking muscles were relaxing, his clenched hands were unfurling, and he was shrinking in size before my eyes.
Now that was impressive.
“Can you come in so I can lock the door again?” I asked, gesturing to the door and wondering how I was going to make it back to the table on my own steam.
My legs did not want to keep me standing up.
Fridge stepped into the room and turned to look at me again. “Can you?”
I giggled. “I’d rather you do it.”
Without a word, he shut the door, carefully, and locked it all up.
I continued to lean against the wall, enjoying the blankness of my mind after a truly screwed up couple of days.
Once he was done locking us in, Fridge looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “What’s wrong with you? You smell... different.”
I giggled again. I knew I probably smelled aroused, but he may not be able to sense it amidst the steak and booze.
“Vodka... you want some?”
He seemed to relax even more, as though he was glad there was a good reason for my behavior.
“Ah... I don’t drink vodka, much.”
I pushed myself to my feet and managed to stagger towards the liquor cabinet.
“Well, Dad has the best of everything. Whatcha want?” I indicated to the shelf loaded down with bottles. “Tequila? Rum?”
Fridge crept forward slowly. “I’m not sure I should...”
“Pah!” I said, swiping a hand at him and grabbing another shot glass from inside the cabinet. “Join in or piss off, ’cause I’m not stopping. If there was ever an excuse to drink, it’s the night after you find your father murdered.”
Fridge nodded at me, as though my point made perfect sense to him. “Tequila.”
“Ha!” I pointed at him and grabbed the bottle of clear liquor. “Here you go.” I tossed the shot glass at him, which he luckily caught because it wasn’t a good throw, and I managed to get the bottle to him without dropping it.
Then I went back and fell into Rogan’s lap, twisting my arms around his neck before looking back at Fridge.
I blinked at Fridge and tried to keep a totally neutral voice when I said, “So, what brings you here this evening?”
Not that I don’t already know.
He didn’t answer, but instead put the shot glass down, filled it to the brim, and tossed it back like a pro.
Oh, so it’s like that, is it?
“Can you make me another drink, Rogan?” I asked my wolf, who nodded, and then leaned forward to mix some more juice and vodka.
“Did you eat dinner?” I asked Fridge. “There’s heaps of steak left in the fridge if you can be bothered cooking it. I’m past it now.”
Rogan handed me a glass with my drink.
“Oh, thank you.”
I sipped at the drink and watched Fridge drink shot, after shot, after shot.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” I asked with a grin. “You in a hurry?”
He did two more shots without looking at me. I glanced down at the table and saw that almost half the bottle was gone now.
I gaped at him. Even my dad would have been impressed with that stamina.
Finally, he sat down at the other end of the table, as far away as he could get, and looked at both of us.
The intensity in his eyes, in his face, took my breath away. Not the shifter in him, the human side. He looked open, vulnerable, hurt almost...
Wow.
“I don’t want to be left out,” he finally said.
I glanced over at Rogan who was looking almost as confused as I felt.
“Left out of... what?” I asked.
I knew if I’d been less drunk I might have been able to interpret him better, but my eyes were heavy, as were all my limbs.
After everything else he’d said and done, I couldn’t quite work out why Fridge was here now.
He lifted his hands and made a circling motion at us, like we were meant to get that.
I giggled, and drank a little more, pouring another double drink for Rogan, encouraging him to do the same thing. “Drink up.”
Then I glanced up at Fridge, who was still drinking tequila at the other end of the table. “Look, mate, you are either gonna have to spell it out, or get to finishing that bottle and hope it loosens your tongue. Me? I’m getting the next one.”
Rogan and I had finished the vodka, and there was another in the cupboard below the main liquor bottle area where Dad kept the overflow stash.
I stumbled to my knees and giggled as I crawled across the floor.
But before I got to the cupboard, strong arms scooped me up and I was suddenly in Fridge’s lap as he sat back down at the table.
This time, he sat in the middle, closer to Rogan.
“I think that’s enough for the minute. Yeah?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure I agreed with him, but since he was holding me, I didn’t complain. Instead, I entwined my arms around his neck, settled into his lap, and let the alcohol already in my system do its job.
I looked up at him, though he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring straight ahead as though the answer to life was written on one of the walls in the kitchen.
