by Anna Lowe
“This is delicious.” She shot Hailey a smile. “You could open a coffee shop.”
Hailey laughed, and her cheeks flushed with pride. “The world’s smallest coffee shop, going by the size of my crop. But next year…”
Her eyes shone as they always did when she dreamed her dream.
Cynthia drank the coffee in several grateful sips and chatted for a minute or two. Then she briefed Hailey, who’d be keeping an eye on Joey in her absence.
Call it practice, Hailey had once joked, hinting that she and Tim were thinking of starting their own family.
As Cynthia spoke, it hit her all over again how lucky she was to have friends like Hailey and the others. She’d never thought she could entrust Joey to anyone, but these days, she did it all the time. Her packmates were people she could count on through thick and thin — something that had never been clearer than in their reactions to Cal’s arrival. Everyone had been on high alert, ready to tear Cal to pieces if he’d shown any intention of harm. At the same time, the women had been determined to give Cal a chance. Had they sensed that he was the one?
She grimaced. Whatever magic she and Cal shared, it was all in the past, and there was no going back.
Maybe not, her dragon hummed. But starting over…
She snorted. There would be no starting over. She’d reconciled herself to being a widow for the rest of her life, and that was that.
“Hey,” Hailey whispered. “Are you okay?”
Cynthia forced a quick smile. The one that insisted she was fine even if she wasn’t.
“I’m perfect. Thanks so much for the coffee — and for watching Joey.”
Hailey smiled. “My pleasure.”
Which left Cynthia no option but to stride across the porch, over the lawn, and behind the barn to reach a rocky outcrop — a place perfect for taking off and landing.
Usually, her dragon would be pushing to escape to the skies. But all the way over, she dragged her feet and fretted. About leaving Joey, for starters. About Cal. Because Silas — drat him — had agreed to let the wolf shifter stay.
There may be more afoot than we know, he’d explained when he dropped in earlier. And I believe he can help us defeat the enemy.
Cynthia frowned into the balmy night. An unseen enemy who might be planning an attack on beautiful Maui at any time.
“Cal,” she whispered into the night.
Why, why, why? Of all the people fate could have sent to protect Joey, why him? She already had an entire Special Forces team on her side, not to mention their equally fierce and protective mates. Did she really need Cal?
Of course we need him, her dragon insisted. The way he needs us.
Her steps faltered, but she pushed on, shedding layers as she walked. A dark shadow swooped overhead, barely making a sound, but a voice sounded clearly in her mind.
Ready to fly?
It was Jenna, as exuberant as ever. Cynthia looked up wistfully. Ah, to have been born the daughter of a surfer, footloose and fancy-free.
“I’ll be right there,” Cynthia called softly.
She held out her arms, shifting as she walked. She spread her fingers wide, letting the folds of skin between them stretch until she was sporting a pair of leathery wings. Scents grew sharper and more layered as she shifted, and her keen dragon eyes caught the slightest movement in the shadows. When she hopped onto the rocky outcrop, she nearly released a thunderous call into the night. A dragon clan as ancient as hers had every right to bellow their presence to the world, or so she’d been taught. But she forced herself to cough away the instinctive call. Her fortunes had changed, and she couldn’t go announcing herself like a queen.
Just a princess, her dragon sighed.
She flexed her legs, flicked her tail, and sprang into the air, reminding herself not to get all snooty about that. Her family had left Europe generations ago, so the princess part was a stretch, at best. And even if it was easy to feel superior to most folks on earth when she was up in the air, that wasn’t the way things worked. Cal, Connor, and the others had taught her that honor and dignity weren’t qualities exclusive to noble clans. Birth was an accident, and shifters born in ordinary — or even adverse — circumstances could prove themselves more noble than those born into privilege and power.
She shot toward the moon with a few powerful beats of her wings. Whatever legacy she left in life, it would be one she earned with her own blood, sweat, and tears.
Her dragon snorted. Well, we’ve got the tears part nailed.
She flew faster, trying to outrun ugly memories. Opening her mouth, she spat fire into the inky night. Just a thin stream so as not to be noticed by any humans who happened to be out that evening.
In the distance, a burst of fire lit the sky, and she tensed. But it was only Kilauea, a simmering volcano way over on the Big Island. The behemoth had been active over the past months, and the huge ash cloud it sent up was as clear as a beacon marked by little outbursts of fire.
Fire. Like the passion that used to burn between us and Cal, her dragon moped.
Then, whoosh! Jenna dive-bombed past Cynthia’s right wingtip, chasing those thoughts out of her mind. It was time to train, not to feel sorry for herself.
She sped after Jenna, looping and twisting in the air every time her fellow dragon dodged or rolled. It was exhilarating. Freeing. Empowering.
And not at all ladylike, her dragon grinned.
Jenna twisted to nip at her wingtip, but Cynthia veered right.
Good, Connor’s voice boomed in her mind. The big green-brown dragon hovered to one side, studying their moves the way a boxing coach might. He’d been helping them train ever since Tessa had stopped joining them, making vague excuses.
Jenna had winked to Cynthia about that. I bet she’s pregnant — just not quite ready to announce it.
If that was true, it would be great news. Tessa and Kai, the dragons from Koa Point, had been hoping to start a family for ages. Because shifting could harm an unborn baby, Tessa would be constrained to human form for another few months.
Cynthia hoped Jenna was right. She trained even harder, fueled more than ever before by a desire to protect her pack.
That move you just used worked fine, Connor said. But there’s an even better trick you should learn. Jenna, come and repeat that with me so I can demonstrate, okay?
With pleasure. Jenna chuckled, shooting up toward him.
Cynthia pursed her lips. Jenna and Connor made great coaches, but the mated pair had a way of turning every move into a sensual dance. Still, she studied them closely.
Like this, Connor said when Jenna nipped at his wing. Instead of jolting away from her, he folded his wing tightly and rolled, dropping directly beneath Jenna. Then he flicked his wings open and shot upward, spitting fire at her belly. Just a tiny little spark, barely enough to tickle his mate. In a real fight, he would release an inferno that would inflict major damage.
And if that doesn’t finish off the enemy, you do this, he said, dashing for Jenna’s neck. But instead of attacking, he nuzzled her, and they both erupted into hearty coughs of dragon laughter. Cynthia sighed and turned away to practice the move. Once Connor and Jenna went goo-goo eyed, it was hard to get their attention back.
Sure enough, after a few more halfhearted maneuvers, Jenna cleared her throat and swooped off to the right.
Um, I think I left the kettle on at home.
We’d better check that, for sure, Connor agreed, following right on her heels.
Cynthia watched them go. Within minutes, the couple was bound to be back at their rocky lair, locked in the throes of passion. But who was she to spoil the fun of a couple of giddy lovers?
That used to be us, her dragon mourned, replaying images from the past. Such as a younger version of herself squeaking and clutching Cal’s waist as he revved his motorcycle along a leaf-covered New England road in fall. The wind whipped at her pink scarf, and Cal’s body heat made her nestle closer to nuzzle his neck.
She
scanned the ground, unconsciously checking for wolf tracks. Then she swooped over the rooftop of her home exactly the way her father used to do when she was a kid. That memory, she smiled at, thinking of how she would lie in bed, counting the days until she could be a mighty dragon too.
She let out a bittersweet huff. Fate didn’t always let things unfold the way they ought to have.
But I am a mighty dragon, her inner beast insisted, admiring the golden wings stretched out at her sides.
Cynthia didn’t bother answering. How mighty was a dragon who hid out on a private estate, dependent on the help of her friends?
Then she caught herself. As a mother, her priority wasn’t about showing off her power. It was to keep her son happy, healthy, and safe.
She circled the plantation house a second time then headed north, climbing over the jagged West Maui mountains. Finally, she glided out over the ocean, reminding herself of what the newest member of her mixed shifter pack would say.
The world is full of love and beauty.
Cynthia repeated Sophie’s words as she slowly looped back. Love and beauty. For Joey’s sake, she had to remember that. And, heck. Maui made it easy to keep in mind, with its dramatic skyline, swaying palms, and long strips of golden sand.
As she flew back over the plantation, ready to call it a night, a movement drew her attention to a rocky point. When she made out a lone wolf, her heart leaped. It wasn’t Chase or Sophie, nor Boone or Nina, the wolves from Koa Point.
Cal, her dragon cried.
In her excitement, she nearly flew over, but she observed from a distance instead. The wind direction was in her favor, and Cal hadn’t spotted her yet. Which meant he probably hadn’t been watching her fly, and part of her mourned. When they’d first met, they’d made a game of going out at night in their different animal forms. She would soar through the skies while Cal loped along the ground. Eventually, they’d meet on a hilltop and circle each other a few times, then set off again and continue the tease. Eventually, they would shift back into human form and let the fun take a sensual turn.
She inhaled deeply, hating that she sounded like an old maid in a rocking chair. The kind who sighed and said, Those were the days.
Cal lifted his muzzle, and that was like the good old days, too. But instead of howling in glee, he let out a long, mournful cry. To human ears, the sounds were nearly indistinguishable, but she’d learned the difference, and it gutted her. His howl was lonely and devoid of hope. Resigned and empty instead of proud and optimistic, the way it used to be. Had she caused that?
She let out a tiny puff of hot air, reminding herself that Cal hadn’t kept the promise they’d made to remain true to each other to the end of their days, no matter what. The moment she’d been forced to leave him, he’d taken off and shacked up with the first she-wolf who’d come along. Some tramp named Sheila, or so Cynthia had heard.
She beat the air with her wings, putting distance between her and Cal – or between her and the past. Whichever. It was time to get home to her son and to the new pack she had worked so hard to become co-alpha of. It didn’t matter that her soul was crying or that her heart felt like it had just been stabbed all over again. That was all part of her old life, and she had finally succeeded in starting anew.
She glided in the slow circle, murmuring to herself the whole time.
A new start… A new start…
Sure. Go ahead and pretend, her dragon sighed.
Lining up her landing, she checked the wind one more time. Then she curled her wingtips, lowered her tail, and stuck out her talons. Moments later, she came to a skipping landing not far from where she had taken off. Then she held her wings wide and shook them before shifting back to human form. When she pulled on her clothes, every layer felt like a piece of armor being fitted into place. Back she went to being cool, aloof Cynthia, co-alpha of this pack. A person who couldn’t be seen moping around.
Not moping, her dragon insisted. Trying to find a way to make things work with Cal.
“Well, it won’t work,” she said, striding toward the house.
That led her past the barn, where the door was ajar. Somebody had left the light on inside.
“What, again?” she muttered, glad to have something else to fuss about. She stepped inside and headed to the workbench to turn off the light. But before she could, something glinted, catching her eye. She stopped short as moonlight shone off chrome — Cal’s beaten-up Triumph.
Her pulse skipped. Just looking at the classic lines of the Thruxton brought back so much. How many times had she ridden on the back of that bike? Her arms tight around Cal’s waist, her cheek warm against his back…
So many good times, her dragon whispered.
Riding with Cal had always been an escape from the stiff, proper world in which she’d been raised. They’d broken speed limits and made too much noise. They’d ridden roads marked No Trespassing to reach hilltops where they could lie back and count the stars. With Cal, anything seemed possible – even the impossibility of their love.
Then she remembered Cal zooming out of her life on that bike, and her shoulders stiffened. That had been the last time she’d seen him, a week before the ceremony in which she was forced to bond with the dragon shifter her parents had chosen for her. Had Cal gone straight to Sheila that night?
She bowed her head, fighting the lump in her throat. An owl hooted outside, telling her…
Telling me what? she wanted to yell. Should she swallow her pride and grab the chance to love Cal again, or should she defend the walls she’d built around her heart?
Grab the chance, her dragon whispered.
She glanced at his motorcycle then froze, spotting the pink scarf wrapped around the handlebars. The one she’d given him the very first night they met. It was a ragged mess now, and more brown than pink. The ends were frayed, and it was splattered with mud. But it was still there. Why hadn’t he ripped off that old thing?
Because he still loves us, her dragon said. Always has, always will.
Cynthia’s knees wobbled. Never had she felt more ashamed of what she’d been forced to do, nor felt such regret. What if Cal hadn’t given up on her, even though she’d given up on herself?
But what about Sheila? she wanted to protest.
We heard that Cal took off with her, but we don’t know for sure, her dragon pointed out. Ask him. You’ll see.
She fingered her necklace, trying to take comfort from the smooth, familiar surface of her pearls. The middle one, she rubbed extra hard. Something was wrong with that one — it was turning a pale, burnished blue. Or was that just the moonlight?
The soft pad of footsteps sounded behind her, and she whirled.
“Cal,” she breathed, staring at the wolf standing at the barn door.
He was just as dark and dashing as ever. Just as big and wiry, and just as defiant. In short, exactly the wolf shifter she had fallen in love with, right down to the tiny scar on his lip. The only real change was the burn scars — and the cloud of sorrow he carried with him.
The wolf glanced between her and the Triumph, and she could sense him remembering too. All the good times, all the hopes…and all the regrets. They stared at each other for a few minutes, eyes glowing, saying more than they ever could in words.
I wish…
I want…
I missed you so much, it hurts.
But just when she was sure Cal would shift into human form and speak, the wolf gave himself a firm shake and padded wordlessly off into the night.
Cynthia opened and closed her mouth, fishing for words. But really, what was there to say?
How about, I still miss you, Cal, her dragon whispered. I still love you. Can you ever forgive me?
She couldn’t get so much as a peep past her too-proud lips, but she did rush forward to watch him lope silently off. She found herself clutching the sliding barn door, holding herself back from running after him. What was over was over, and that was that.
It was never over, her
dragon cried.
The wolf shot her one last, sad look then moved on. His path took him through a shaft of moonlight, and she watched him slip from darkness to light and back to darkness before disappearing for good.
Cynthia drooped against the barn doors, feeling lower, lonelier, and more lost than she had ever been.
Mate, her dragon whispered. That wolf is my mate.
Chapter Five
Cal selected a piece of ironwood, settled back on the tree stump he was using as a stool, and went back to whittling. A moment later, he wiped his brow and looked around, holding back a sigh. His second day on Maui. The first had been hard enough, but this was shaping up to be a doozy too. Everyone was eyeing him like he was a traitor, and every time Cynthia walked by, his body felt on fire.
He shouldn’t have come. Why torture himself?
Silas’s words echoed in his mind. Leave now, and go in peace. Or stay, and work with us to protect Cynthia and her son.
He swung his jaw from side to side. He was in Maui to see things through, dammit. No matter how much it hurt.
Timber, the bear shifter, was sawing a sheet of plywood not too far away. Chase, the wolf, was chopping wood. At least, that’s what they pretended to do while keeping an eye on Cal. If it hadn’t been for Silas ordering everyone to leave him be, they’d probably run him the hell out of there. As it was, suspicion hung in the air like an invisible fog, but Cal just sighed. All his life, he’d turned heads as the big, bad wolf shifter from the wrong side of the tracks. A little uncouth, a little unkempt, and a lot rebel. The kind of guy who made people jump to conclusions about how much danger he posed.
Well, let them think what they wanted. He was here to protect Cynthia, and that was that.
He searched through the woodpile until he finally found a long, straight branch that might work better than the first. He tested its weight, balance, and strength. Yes, that one just might do. Settling back again, he laid the stake across his knees and started whittling a sharp point at one end. The set of his mouth grew more and more grim as he pictured the task he had in mind for it. How much time would pass before he was forced to use it? He glanced at the sky, wishing for some sign from above. Would he finally rid the world of the evil that had been hounding Cynthia for so long?