by Zoe Chant
Dark wood with beautiful grains, sandy-pale wood with a golden sheen, rich red-brown wood that looked almost alive...chairs and tables and bedframes and all sorts of things. It almost looked like a museum.
“You’re not in the way,” Santos said mildly. “This is the shop area. The workshop’s back there. People come in here all the time.”
“Well, if you need to go back in the workshop, don’t let me stop you. I don’t want to mess up your routine.”
Elizabeth was tired of having to just...appear on people’s doorsteps and make them rearrange their lives around her presence. It didn’t feel very good to be constantly imposing herself like this.
Besides, it was like a continual reminder that she didn’t have anywhere that she actually belonged anymore. No home to go to, no one who was expecting her to appear every day. No place with all of her things.
Nowhere for her baby to sleep, when it was born, to grow up and learn to walk and draw crayon pictures all over the walls.
“Please don’t worry about messing anything up,” Santos said quietly. His voice was very, very deep, but he also spoke so softly that Elizabeth almost had to strain to hear him. “You’re not. You’ve made everything all right for this town.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Not everything. Malachi told you, didn’t he? The red dragon?”
Santos nodded. “He’s on top of that. And if he calls on the rest of us to help, we’ll take care of it.”
“You really trust him to handle this, don’t you,” Elizabeth said, marveling a little.
Santos nodded, looking absolutely sanguine. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t trust anybody,” she admitted, and bit her lip. “That sounds awful, doesn’t it.”
“It does sound awful,” Santos said slowly, “but maybe not in the way you mean. Not like you’re an awful person. Like it’s awful that you haven’t had anyone in your life that you could trust.”
Elizabeth thought about that. “Maybe it’s both,” she said glumly.
She felt like it was both. Victor’s pack hadn’t been an environment that fostered trust, but Elizabeth hadn’t objected much when she’d settled herself there. Sure, it had seemed extremely convenient that there was a lion shifter pack actively looking for a lawyer, just when she was out of law school and looking for a job, but she’d also—
She’d wanted so desperately to appear competent. Self-sufficient. She hadn’t wanted to be smothered, like she’d felt like she was in her pack growing up. She’d wanted to stand on her own two feet and not have anyone looking over her shoulder and wondering if she was all right.
It seemed like she’d gone a little too far in the other direction.
Santos seemed like he was thinking it over, too. “You’re the only one who can really know yourself,” he said finally, “but I don’t think that anyone who did what you did, who risked her life to take down a man like Victor, is an awful person.”
Elizabeth thought about trotting out her usual explanation, that it had been an essentially selfish act, to make sure she and her baby were safe. But she didn’t.
Instead, she said, “Do you think the place where you live can change you?”
Santos nodded. “Absolutely. My parents moved here from Arizona when they were young, and they always say that if they hadn’t done that, they would’ve turned out exactly like their parents, and their parents before them—not bad, but all very driven. Go-getters, who didn’t really understand why you might sacrifice your career for a person. They said that coming here, they learned how to really be part of a community.”
Elizabeth could feel her face making a skeptical look and was physically unable to stop it. “Seriously, is this place magic, or what? Why is everyone so nice here? Is there something in the water?”
Santos smiled. “That’s what happens when people raise their kids right, teach them what’s important. They learn.”
Elizabeth looked down at her stomach. “I hope so.”
Santos turned back to the furniture. “You want to hear about some of this stuff? I just finished this piece over here.”
Grateful for a lighter subject, Elizabeth followed him over to look at a beautiful mahogany chair. “Please.”
***
It was a more pleasant afternoon than she’d thought was possible.
When Malachi had dropped her off, she’d been anticipating several hours of wringing her hands, of anxiety about the dragons, of resentment at being foisted off like a little kid who needed a babysitter.
Instead, she spent several hours in a gorgeous, open space full of beautiful things, learning way more than she’d ever thought she’d know about carpentry.
Santos was very quiet, but clearly passionate about his job, and he was happy to answer questions. Elizabeth thoroughly enjoyed spending the afternoon with him.
It was funny, though—he was exactly her type. Enormous (she didn’t know what it was about big, tall men, but it was something, all right), very good with his hands, graceful and powerful in the way that suggested he could handle himself physically if any danger appeared, and not a man of many words.
She’d given herself so much hell, over the years, for being attracted to men like this. So often, being muscular, physically capable, and stoic just meant that they liked to fight more than they liked to talk things out, and that meant that they were bad news.
That had led to a series of either a) failed relationships, or b) dating-type-situations that were not relationships, because she knew better, but somehow still managed to be failures. She knew this about herself, and she still fell hard every single time. And that was exactly what had led to her current situation, pregnant with the latest model’s baby and running for her life from him. It was not healthy and none of those men had ever turned out to be anything but trouble for her.
Santos clearly wasn’t trouble. And he fit all of her usual requirements like he was checking off a list.
And she wasn’t attracted to him.
It was really, really strange. She would have expected to be attracted to him. The second she’d laid eyes on him, coming into the shop, she’d already been giving herself a stern talking-to about not chasing after the men in this town like some kind of impulse-driven female Lothario. They didn’t want that, and neither did she. Down, girl, she’d instructed herself.
And yet. It hadn’t been necessary at all.
She would’ve blamed pregnancy hormones screwing up her attraction instincts...but she’d been blushing all through lunch with Malachi. Clearly nothing was broken in there.
It was just really weird.
Around six o’clock, the door opened, and Malachi himself appeared. And Elizabeth felt like her whole body just woke up.
Her cheeks flushed, her lips tingled, her knees got weak. He was just so—tall, and capable, and there was something about his dark eyes and the flecks of gray in his hair, and she just wanted to—
Down, girl.
She mustered up what was hopefully a normal-looking smile. “Hi,” she said. “Any news?”
He was smiling back, but he shook his head. “Nothing. Flynn and I both patrolled the heck out of the woods around town, and we didn’t see one single red scale. Talked to Ronan, too, and he hasn’t heard from any of his family.”
Wait. Elizabeth frowned. “Who’s Ronan?” Malachi had mentioned the name before, and it was clear that Ronan was one of the local shifter men, but—
“Oh,” Malachi said, sounding startled. “That’s right. Sorry. I’ve come to expect that you’ll just know everything already.”
That made her flush again, in pleasure at the compliment. It was nice to know that Malachi thought she was competent, and not just a helpless damsel fainting in his spare room.
“Ronan is our local red dragon,” Malachi continued, and Elizabeth snapped to attention. “He left his hometown years ago because it was too violent, and came and settled here. When we first learned from you that red dragons were involved, we asked him, and it seems a
s though these dragons are coming from the same place he’s from. So he’s our intelligence source for this one.”
“Maybe we should compare notes,” Elizabeth said.
“Good idea.” Malachi nodded. “I’ll see if I can get you two together. I mean—set up a meeting.”
Elizabeth eyed him. Was that a slight flush on his cheekbones? “I think that could be helpful for overall strategizing,” she said, carefully businesslike.
Malachi nodded brusquely. “For now, though, I’m taking a break for dinner. Flynn and Reid are patrolling. Santos, will you take a shift tonight?”
Santos, who’d been standing so quietly behind Elizabeth that she’d actually forgotten he was there, said, “Of course. Reid can tap me in whenever he’s done.”
“Good. I’m going to take Elizabeth home. You must be tired,” Malachi said to her. “Sorry you couldn’t spend the afternoon resting at home.”
Elizabeth blinked at the use of home—but of course, it was his home, so that’s what he’d call it. “No problem,” she said. “Promise. I enjoyed being here, learning all about Santos’ furniture.”
“She asked very good questions,” Santos said, sounding amused. “Didn’t seem to tire her out any.”
Malachi shot him a look that Elizabeth couldn’t quite parse. “Let’s get going, then. Thanks again, Santos.”
“My pleasure,” Santos called after them as they left the shop.
Outside, Elizabeth shivered in the cold air, suddenly wishing that they’d driven over to the restaurant instead of walking. It was just a few blocks, but winter had really arrived, and there was actual snow on the ground.
“Are you tired?” Malachi asked. “I could go get the car, you could wait inside—”
Feeling like a horribly lazy city girl for thinking she couldn’t walk what couldn’t be more than eight or ten blocks, since it had only been a few blocks from the house to the diner and a few further to the shop, Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just a little chilly, that’s all.” Her skirt ensemble hadn’t come with woolen leggings, and she didn’t have boots, just heels.
Malachi said, “Well—here, how about we fly?”
“What?” Elizabeth said, startled, but before she could ask or object further—did she want to object?—Malachi had hastily stepped a few feet away from her, and right there in the public street, he shifted.
Elizabeth stared.
She hadn’t seen any of the dragons in their other forms before. The only times the dragons and the lions had faced off while shifted had been during open fights, and Victor didn’t allow women to participate in those, not that Elizabeth was interested in doing so.
So she’d never actually seen a dragon before.
He was big, much bigger than a lion. Why did Victor ever think he could fight these people? she wondered involuntarily, looking up at the massive dark form of Malachi’s dragon.
He was black as night, coal-black, with a silvery-gray crest and horns. He looked like something out of a dangerous dream, and Elizabeth wanted to go up and run her hands over every inch of him.
She remembered thinking, in the restaurant, that she could ride on his back while he flew, and then castigating herself for being ridiculous.
Well, she hadn’t been as ridiculous as she’d thought, because it was about to happen.
She approached him slowly, trying to take in every detail with her eyes, in case this was the only time she got to see him like this. He was about twelve feet long, lean and powerful, with claws that looked absolutely razor-sharp. His scales were matte, not glinting in the light from the windows or the streetlamps. He had to be an invisible shadow when he was flying at night, absolute stealth with wings.
Elizabeth clenched her hands by her sides automatically, to keep herself from touching. But—she had to touch him, to climb on his back.
Her human instincts were all wrong here. They were telling her, repress, deny, you want this too badly, stay away.
Her lioness, on the other hand, was hungry.
Yes, she hissed. Yes, go up, go close. Touch. See what he is, what he’s like. Because he’s ours.
He’s not ours, Elizabeth thought back sternly, but she was moving forward, reaching out to touch his scales.
They were warm, and somehow—softer than she was expecting, but still smooth like glass. She was fascinated by the texture. Like he was a museum piece come to life, with blood and breath inside him, but still shaped out of some impossibly beautiful material.
Slowly, he bent down, one leg cocked for her to climb onto his back.
She managed it a bit clumsily, grateful that he wasn’t looking back to see how well she managed sitting astride in a skirt. It was a much more comfortable seat than she would’ve thought—there was a deep space between his spines, right on his upper back, where she fit perfectly.
He waited until she was settled, holding on tight, and just about to say, I’m ready—and then he took a couple of running steps and threw himself into the air.
Elizabeth gasped—okay, maybe she shrieked a tiny bit, but no one else had to know, and she was sure Malachi would be too polite to mention it later.
But once they were aloft, the flight was smooth as silk. Malachi’s wings were enormous, and they seemed to catch the smallest air currents, keeping them stable and graceful on the wind. And they were only barely above the town, not way up high where it would’ve been much easier.
Way up high would’ve also been much colder, though. And it was crazy to see the houses just fifteen or twenty feet below them, as they sailed along without a care.
Elizabeth wanted to do it again before they even landed.
It was over way too soon—they were only going a few blocks, after all—and when Malachi set them down in the backyard of his house, Elizabeth had to force herself to climb down off of his back and not clutch hold of his horns and demand he take off again immediately.
When her feet hit the ground, she had to hold back a sigh of regret. But she stepped away and waited for him to shift back.
Human again, Malachi stepped forward. “Was that all right for you?” he asked. “I know flying can be much colder, but I thought that it would be better to get back faster. Let’s get you inside.”
He took her arm and hustled them both towards the back door. Elizabeth followed, laughing a little. “That was amazing,” she said. “I’m not too cold.” Which was true—she’d forgotten all about the winter air the second he’d turned into a freaking dragon. “Can you really just shift on the street whenever you want? We always had to go out to the property that Victor had way out in the forest, if we wanted to shift outside.”
“Well—” Malachi looked embarrassed. “No one’s really supposed to shift right out in front of a building like that. Most of the time, we start in the woods.”
Of course, unlike in Leosville, the woods were right out back for most people in Oak Ridge. It was basically like shifting in your own backyard.
“I probably shouldn’t have done it so publicly like that, but most people in the town are shifters, and there’s no permanent resident who doesn’t know about them. The unofficial rule is just to stay away from any public area where a non-local might see. But, I just spent the entire afternoon patrolling around the town, looking for any non-locals, and I can say with absolute confidence that there’s no one within miles who doesn’t belong here. So for the moment, it was safe.”
No one within miles who doesn’t belong here. Except Elizabeth. Unless he’d meant that Elizabeth did belong here.
No, he’d been speaking without thinking, obviously. He hadn’t meant to imply anything about her presence.
“Well—thanks,” she said, as Malachi shut the back door firmly behind them and turned on the kitchen light. “I’ve never had an experience even close to that before. I mean, I’ve flown in a plane, but—nothing like that. It was amazing.”
He turned and smiled. It looked almost shy. “I’m glad.”
“Hey, are y
ou home?” Hayley thumped down the stairs and burst into the kitchen. “Hi! How was work?”
“Eventful,” Malachi said. “How was school?”
“Uneventful.” Hayley opened the fridge and stared into it. “What do you mean, eventful?”
“Hayley, come here.”
She closed the fridge and looked at him, suddenly nervous. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”
“Everyone’s fine,” Malachi said immediately. “Nothing has actually happened yet. I just want you to know what’s going on. I saw a red dragon over the forest last night.”
Hayley let out her breath. “Oh.”
“Now, there’s nothing to indicate that he’s coming back, that he brought others, or anything about any attack or incursion. No obvious threat yet. But until we can definitely prove that, I don’t want you flying alone, okay? Only with me or another adult.”
Hayley’s shoulders slumped. “I was going to go flying this weekend with Michelle and Patrick.”
“Maybe we’ll have it all sorted out by this weekend,” Malachi said. “But if we don’t, you can’t. Too dangerous.”
“Ugh.” Hayley’s jaw set, but she didn’t make any further protests. Elizabeth figured she’d learned better by now than to argue with her father over issues of safety.
“Ugh is accurate,” Malachi agreed, and Elizabeth had to stifle a laugh. “Now, what should we have for dinner? Elizabeth, you want to go back to the diner?”
“No way,” Hayley said. “We’re just as much domestic goddesses as Lachlan is, let’s cook something.”
Malachi looked at Elizabeth, eyebrows raised: obviously the decision was up to her. Well, she wasn’t going to get in Hayley’s way. Besides, it was so...charming, how much Hayley obviously enjoyed cooking with her father.
“I’m always happy to have a home-cooked meal,” she said. “But I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good at helping. I’m a terrible cook.”
“You won’t be helping,” Malachi said immediately. “You’re our guest. You should probably be sitting down, anyway.”
“I promise I sat down for most of the afternoon at Santos’s,” Elizabeth said, laughing, and it was mostly true. There had been plenty of beautiful chairs to test out, anyway.
