Table of Contents
WYATT DRAKE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Thank you!
WYATT DRAKE
Emilia Hartley
© Copyright 2018 by Blues Publishing. - All rights reserved.
The contents of this book may not be reproduced, duplicated or transmitted without direct written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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This book is copyright protected. This is only for personal use. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Chapter One
Kennedy Mortensen was always on the move. Her feet, and her stomach, took her from town to town in search of the next great flavor. According to her blog, she did it for her fans. Kennedy knew that wasn’t the only reason she traveled. Her feet were restless. No town screamed her name or begged her to stay.
She moved through each, finding joy in them but no real reason to lay down roots. This time, she visited a small town in the mountains. Like a hidden secret, it wasn’t marked on any maps. The Colorado mountains kept it nestled far away from public knowledge. Grove, the sign on the side of the twisting road had read.
Main street was dotted with tiny lights suspended from the street posts. The street cut between the two mountains that rose on either side, the thick evergreen branches pressing in on every available space at the edges. Kennedy’s stomach flipped.
She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day. She’d been waiting until she arrived. Her job was to discover restaurants and flavors. If she arrived on a full stomach, she couldn’t very well do her job. Eager to shove aside the shaky sensation, she scanned the street for her options.
The sight took her breath away. Buildings from the age of factories bore vintage advertisements, the paint fading. A clock tower ticked. Behind it she caught the peak of a church bell tower rising from the peaks of the pine trees. Inspired, she removed the lens cap from her camera and lifted it to capture the shot.
“You really shouldn’t take pictures,” a nasally voice interrupted.
Kennedy lowered the camera, only a fraction of an inch, to give the tourist a quizzical look. The man was smug, as if proud that he knew so much when Kennedy thought he was spouting nonsense.
His brows shot up, pleading with her to believe him. “The locals don’t like it for some reason. Just the other day I was trying to take a picture of the sky and a local came up to me. He crushed my camera without even asking me to put it away first!”
Kennedy looked around. She didn’t see any camera crushing locals, but she also didn’t know what a camera crushing local looked like. A brute, she supposed. She expected a strong-browed caveman to saunter out from an alley and rush her for her camera.
“I’ll, ah, keep that in mind.” She flashed a wide smile before scurrying toward the nearest restaurant.
The chipped paint on the window proclaimed that it was a diner. As soon as the door swung closed behind her, she felt a little better. She fingered the camera hanging around her neck and considered why anyone would want to break one, especially one that belonged to a stranger. She would have pondered the secrets Grove might be hiding, but her attention was grabbed by the inside of the diner.
Cozy booths held little juke boxes. Waitresses in matching uniforms smiled in greeting from behind the wooden bar. The stools were covered in striped leather. Kennedy found it homey and welcoming. She made a mental note to add those descriptors to her blog as she raised her camera.
One waitress’s smile turned to a scowl. Kennedy’s grip on her camera tightened. She scurried to claim a seat, running away from the disapproving waitress. Once again, Kennedy was struck with the sense that Grove was hiding something. She felt like she was thrust into a ninety’s mystery TV show.
One of her fans would notice that she was no longer updating her blog. Someone would have to come out here and find her body. If she was lucky, she’d be able to haunt the detective searching for her. Maybe they’d fall in love.
Kennedy pinched the bridge of her nose. She binge-watched too many TV shows, and it was showing.
“Are you still in love with that shiny dragon booty?” an old woman asked someone.
Kennedy looked up to find the scowling waitress standing at the next table in the row of booths. She stood over a violet-haired old lady. Sitting in the booth beside the old lady was an equally old Asian man, in the middle of shaking his head at his wife’s statement. At least, Kennedy assumed she was his wife.
The words the old woman used began to sink in.
Dragon?
Kennedy needed to eat something. Not only was she slow to take things in, she was hearing nonsense. There was no way the old woman said shiny dragon booty. It wasn’t possible.
The waitress finished with the older couple and moved on to Kennedy’s table. Biting the inside of her cheek, Kennedy realized she hadn’t even gotten a chance to look at the menu. Flinging it open in a fit of panic, she hurriedly sought the best item.
“You’re not from around here,” the waitress said, more of a statement than a question. Her voice was husky, almost smoky.
***
Wyatt slammed his car door. He glared at anyone who dared look in the direction of the loud sound. The only reason he’d ventured outside his apartment was its utter lack of food. It was his own fault, of course. He was the only one to blame, but it wasn’t like Wyatt was used to buying groceries.
Nicole had always done that for the both of them. She’d been in charge of things like that, like laundry, like making appointments. Wyatt never had to bother with anything domestic. He worked and he came home. That was all he had to do.
Now, back in Grove of all places, he was on his own again.
He shook thoughts of his ex from his mind as he shoved open the diner door. Ashton’s mate raised a brow at him, clearly surprised to see Wyatt. His attention didn’t stay on her for long. It slid to the woman seated at the nearby table.
Big, honey colored eyes stared at him. She shoved back a stray, black curl as if to get a better look at him. His heart stuttered uncomfortably, but he couldn’t look away. Not until he’d taken in the rest of her. The beast growled in the back of his mind. It pushed him to memorize her, but he slapped it back and turned toward the bar.
Wyatt just needed to eat. If he got some food into him, then he could think straight. His beast would quiet and he wouldn’t think about his ex-girlfriend. Lies, of course, but it didn’t stop him from trying. Nicole had been on his mind nearly every moment since she left him.
Once Wyatt placed his order, the beast forced him to spin around. He easily found the dark-skinned girl again. She was nursing a cup of milky coffee
as she flipped through the photos stored on her camera. Her hair was pinned back, away from her face in a high bun that should have been serious but felt playful.
She bit a petal pink lip as she studied a photo. His stomach clenched. Wyatt told himself it was the lack of food driving him mad.
“So, Wyatt Drake finally crawled out of his self-imposed exile to rejoin the world of the living.” Makenna spared no blows when she greeted him.
He didn’t spin around to face Ashton’s mate, still keeping his gaze on the woman at the table. “I ran out of food.”
Makenna laughed. “There’s always food at the house, if you would come visit us. We eat fried chicken every Saturday night.”
Wyatt wasn’t ready to face his family. He’d come to do his part as a dragon in Jasper’s court, but he wanted nothing to do with the broken family. They could play house all they wanted. His own attempts at starting a family had blown up in his face. He couldn’t stand to watch their efforts.
Makenna said nothing. Plates came up at the window, and she whisked them away to their proper tables. As he watched Makenna work, his attention was drawn back to the woman from earlier.
The woman was standing on her seat now. She held her camera above the plate Makenna had delivered, snapping photo after photo. Everyone in the diner looked at her like she was crazy. Wyatt found himself smiling. She looked incredibly small standing on the booth seat, like a twilight pixie.
Beyond the partition between the two rows of booths, a dragon shifter was watching her with hungry eyes. Wyatt didn’t immediately recognize him, so he guessed the man was probably low ranking in Grove, not a metallic dragon like the Drakes. Wyatt would have turned away and left both alone, but the dragon shifter slowly rose. He reached over the partition while the woman was distracted.
A growl ripped from Wyatt’s lips. He was off the bar stool before he knew it, halfway to the table. The woman dropped back onto the seat just as Wyatt snatched the hand that had been reaching for her.
The dragon shifter cried out in pain and dismay. The woman’s eyes widened, snapping to the conflict over her head. When she realized what the man on the other side of the partition had been doing, she gasped.
Wyatt hated the sound. It was sharp with fear and dredged his beast from deep inside him. He tightened his grip on the lower dragon shifter. He wanted to hurt the man, to teach him a lesson.
“Next time you think about grabbing unsuspecting women,” Wyatt snarled, “think of me.”
Chapter Two
Kennedy hadn’t seen either coming. She’d been so absorbed in her work, in the smells and colors of the food on her plate. The slick and cold ice of fear slid through her when she saw the hand only inches from her hair. The man whimpered and slithered back into his own seat. Soon, he was nothing more than a simpering shadow on the other side of the frosted glass
She turned to her savior, but he was already walking away. His hands were shoved in his pockets, messy bronze hair tied into a low pony-tail. She scrambled up from her seat to chase after him. He took a bag from the scowling waitress and headed toward the door.
“Wait a minute,” she called after him.
When he turned, the sight of him stole her breath away. His piercing eyes gleamed with a metallic sheen, surrounded by dove grey lashes. A rugged beard grew along the sharp line of his jaw and cradled his plump power lip. This was no caveman local, she decided.
He raised a brow, and Kennedy realized how much time had passed since he’d stopped for her. Her cheeks warmed. His appearance had turned her brain to mush. She struggled to find any words to string together while in his presence.
“Dinner,” she blurted.
Already, he was shaking his head and turning away from her.
“Let me make you dinner!” she called out. “To thank you. For what you did.”
The man paused.
“Let the woman cook for you!” the old woman called out from behind them.
Kennedy was tempted to turn and stare at the woman, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off the man who helped her. She feared the moment she looked away from him, he would disappear. Her heart thumped. Hard and heavy, it clanged against her ribs while she waited for him to respond.
“I was just doing what anyone else would do.” He shoved the door open and disappeared.
Her stomach hit the floor. She couldn’t describe the feeling. All she could do was clutch her stomach and drag her feet back to her booth. The food on her plate, thick layers of stuffed French toast and candied bacon, waited for her.
People around her whispered among themselves. She caught hints of a name, Drake, but they way they said it made it sound like a family name.
One of those Drakes.
So, his family was well known in Grove, she reasoned. She could ask the waitress or the old woman, but she didn’t think she’d get a straight answer from either. It was obvious the waitress didn’t want Kennedy to know anything about Grove. The old woman, on the other hand, was probably crazy. She had mentioned dragons after all.
Drake. Dragon.
Both were kind of the same thing. Kennedy wondered if the people of the town jokingly called the Drakes dragons. It kind of made sense in her head, but still seemed like a long stretch. Kennedy truly had no idea what was going on in this town, but when she took a bite of her French toast, she knew she had to stay and figure it out.
“Is there orange zest in this?” she exclaimed around a full mouth.
***
Wyatt gripped the steering wheel. The beast inside him was screaming to go back inside. It demanded he sweep that woman into his arms and never let her go. Wyatt knew the desire for what it was, a longing to replace what was gone. He refused to reach out for the nearest woman to fill the empty hole in his life.
It wasn’t fair to him or her.
He flicked open his take-out container, shoved a fistful of bacon into his mouth, and punched the gas. The tires spun-out and the smell of rubber filled the air. He wasn’t going to go back to his solitary confinement. No, he had a bone to pick with his so-called king.
The gate was open, or else Wyatt would have crashed his truck through it. He hated the damn gate. No one should be kept off the property, not if they were going to function as a proper court. Though, Wyatt knew they wouldn’t.
Ashton and Makenna could try to tame the Drakes who stayed in Grove, but they would never make a proper court out of them. Jasper was losing the fight to his dragon. He was far too young to struggle against the beast in such a way, but Wyatt had already seen some of the fights. Jasper’s beast was doggedly determined to leave Grove.
Griffin, on the other hand, was more of a hermit than Wyatt. He dealt with Ashton and Makenna’s presence like an offended cat. There was no keeping Griffin around if he didn’t want to be around. Wyatt had taken one look at the mess and turned around.
Now, he stormed into Jasper’s house, making sure his presence was known. Somewhere in the house, he heard a thump and crash in response. Wyatt thought it was Jasper coming to find him, but the thumping continued. It echoed through the house and shook the walls. The roars of angry dragon shifters followed.
He sighed and dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The sound of shattering glass rang in the air. He cursed under his breath and sped up. Around the corner, he found Jasper standing over Griffin. Jasper pulled back a bloody fist, a snarl on his lips, but before he could land the blow he was flung away.
Wyatt dodged just in time. Jasper sailed past him to crash into a small, decorative table. The king of the mountain gathered himself. He extracted his limbs from the mess of wood and ceramics to rise into a shaky stance.
The two had been fighting for a while if the state of the house was any indication. A door had been ripped off its hinges and hung awkwardly behind Griffin. Several holes of varying sizes punctured the drywall, marring the apricot paint.
Who painted their walls apricot?
“What the hell is going on here?” Wyatt stepped
between them. He knew from their childhood that it wasn’t the smartest move, but if he could break their focus on one another, then there was a chance he could end the fight before it got worse.
Griffin, heaving and hunched on one side, growled low, but didn’t respond. Neither did Jasper. Wyatt looked between the two men, expecting an answer when Ashton appeared. He had a bucket of fresh popcorn in his hands and a look of disappointment on his face.
“It’s over already.”
Wyatt could only glare at his cousin. “No shit, it’s over. Isn’t it your job to break them up?”
“No. It’s my job to make sure Jasper actually works for the money he earns. If he and Griffin want to blow off steam, then who am I to stop them?”
Wyatt wanted to scream. His family drove him wild. He remembered being young and eager to escape Grove. Now he knew why. Maybe, if they’d all stayed, then Jasper wouldn’t be as unstable as he was. There was no proving that, nor could he go back in time to change what was. All they could do was move forward.
“By the way,” Ashton added, watching Wyatt with shrewd eyes. “What are you doing here? You never visit us.”
Before Wyatt could bring up why he wanted to talk to Jasper, Griffin howled and leapt past him. He slammed into Jasper. The two of them crashed through the drywall and into the next room.
Ashton leaned close and whispered. “Do you know how to replace walls?”
“I hate all of you,” was all Wyatt could say in response.
He got Ashton to set aside his popcorn and help tear the two dragons apart before they killed one another. Once Jasper and Griffin were separated, they began to pick up the broken bits of the manor. Cracked drywall and broken table parts were flung out the smashed window, where they could grab them later.
They were a mess.
Wyatt wasn’t sure they could ever recover from the state they were in. He remembered Jasper’s father. The previous king of the mountain had been a stout man, always in control. He’d exuded power in ways Wyatt never dreamed possible. Though few loved the previous king, his rule had been iron. No one questioned him. His son was nothing like him.
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