Casey’s shoulders slumped. Standing between two women, he looked defeated. Daphne knew he was concerned for his mate’s future. She wished she could tell him that everything was okay, but she didn’t have the energy.
Tears gathered in Daphne’s eyes. She needed a break. She needed to get away.
Since Casey needed his truck to take Evangeline home, Daphne couldn’t take it into town like she had the past two nights. She couldn’t bring herself to ask Erik or, heaven forbid, Gavin, if she could borrow their vehicles. Instead, she began the trek down the mountain road back toward town.
Daphne never expected visiting her brother to be this difficult. Not only had he asked her to keep doing her job on her vacation, but the stakes were high. If what Casey said was true, and Daphne was starting to believe him after Evangeline’s panic attack, then their little clan needed to be as stable as possible sooner rather than later.
She didn’t think Zander would try to pull anything while she was here, especially not when he knew she was still coming home to him. Her scowl deepened as she considered what that meant. If Zander had exiled four men, including his own son, Daphne was just as expendable.
The one place she thought she was needed could dissolve if one man decided he was done with her. She craved the kind of adoration and affection Dillon showed his mate. Even Bree and Erik had a special kind of connection that shone while they teased one another. And her brother had never shown such a broad array of emotions to anyone other than Evangeline.
It was very possible that Daphne had already missed out on her chance to find a mate. Perhaps she’d poured too much of herself into her job and ignored the one man who might have shown her the kind of attention she needed. The only person she had to blame was herself, but she didn’t want to think about that with her toes aching and a dull throb behind her eyes.
She stopped outside the restaurant and, once again, found the windows darkened. Dismayed, she checked her phone. The hour wasn’t as late as the last time she’d visited, so she didn’t understand why the restaurant would be closed. This was the one place she knew to go when she wanted to find Ford.
Upon approaching, she read the business hours on the front door and her stomach sank to the ground. Once again, she looked to her phone for confirmation. She’d lost track of the days. Sunday had snuck up on her without warning, meaning the restaurant had closed hours ago.
Empty and unsure of what to do next, she crossed the street and sank onto the low stone wall bordering the nearby park. She shouldn’t be pursuing Ford anyway. He didn’t want her. He didn’t want relations with anyone. The time she’d spent with him had been nice, but she told herself to give up and stop bothering him.
He would never want her.
* * *
Ford had gone out for a walk when his restless beast wouldn’t stop telling him to find Daphne. The starry skies beckoned him to fly, but he kept his feet on the ground, because given wings, the beast just might find its way to Daphne heedless of Ford’s warnings.
This was the kind of cool night that his wife would have loved. He would have walked the streets with her and savored the joy and awe on her face like a fine wine. She wasn’t here, though. Ford only had her memory, her ghost.
He clenched his empty fist and imagined the feel of her hand in his. The sensation would not come at his call. All he had was the night wind on his skin and a fire within him that had banked low.
There’s nothing wrong with moving on, she would have said.
His wife had never understood dragons, though. Human, through and through, she’d waved off every explanation of dragon shifter behavior and told him that he could be the man he wanted to be instead of giving in to age old ways.
She wouldn’t understand. If Daphne found out that he’d killed his own clan leader, she would never be able to trust him. The title of king killer was a warning label. He didn’t wear it with pride. He tucked it away to keep the local clan from hunting him down.
Walking along the park’s edge, he saw a figure slouched on the stone wall. His dragon stirred and peered at the silhouette with curiosity. The wind blew her scent to him, and his beast threw everything it had into pushing Ford toward her.
“Are you crying on the park wall?” Ford asked when she was within earshot.
Daphne straightened. Every step closer made her clearer. He could see the wild waves of her sun-kissed hair, the way her dress slipped low over one shoulder, the dark hint of a tattoo on her thigh that he’d never noticed before. Her boots stood in front of her while she wiggled her toes in the open air.
Once he reached her, the gears in Ford’s head started turning again. “Did you walk all the way here?”
Daphne shrugged. “I might have. Casey needed his truck, and I wasn’t about to ask for a ride into town.”
“What would it have cost you to ask for such a simple favor from your brother?”
“My time alone. My time to process…everything.” Her voice strained. She swallowed audibly before continuing. “Besides, riding with Evangeline would be more work, and I’m done for the day.”
“I still don’t get why you would have walked all the way here in those shoes when you could have any grove or valley in these mountains all to yourself. What possessed you to come into town?”
“You’re a slow one, aren’t you?” she asked with a laugh on her lips.
Her words slammed him in the heart. He’d been trying to keep it closed from everyone, but that single line blasted his doors. He groaned, knowing that he was losing this fight. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave yet.
This confident and powerful dragon woman could hold her own against everything but herself. Her own work ethic wore away at her until she had nothing left to give. Ford hated to watch it. He wanted to give back, but he feared that he wouldn’t be able to separate himself from her once he did.
So, he stayed on his feet and rocked back on his heels while Daphne looked up at him. Though the sun had set, and darkness had rolled in, he could still see her full lips in the glow of the streetlights. He wanted to see her under the full shine of the sun, to see her smile as she lifted her face toward the light.
“Don’t let me ruin your night,” Daphne said. “If you were on your way somewhere, you’re welcome to leave.”
Her forlorn words tugged him down onto the stone wall beside her. His fingers grazed hers on the cool stones. More, more, he wanted more.
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” he told her softly. “I ruined my own social life a long time ago. Why do you think I chose to work in a kitchen? It eats up most of my hours, so I don’t have to worry about having nowhere to go.”
“Do you ever wish you had someone to go to?” She put her head on his shoulder, so he couldn’t see her face.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I tried that a long time ago, and it didn’t end well for anyone involved.”
“Is that why you rock the broody mystery man vibe?” she asked. “I have to admit that it works for you. I’d hate to be your mate because all the other women would be looking at you all the time, and I wouldn’t be able to function. I’d spend all my time worrying if I’m the only one you have eyes for.”
He huffed. “That’s not a mate relationship, then. Once you find your one and only, you’ll know they won’t see anyone other than you.”
Her sigh was filled with longing, but every soft breath made her seem like she was deflating. He wound an arm around her lower back to keep her from crumpling. Anything for this woman who’d stood on her own two feet for far too long. Anything to keep her from falling apart.
“I never thought much about mating until now. My jealousy took me by surprise, really.” She picked at a few frayed threads in the hem of her dress. “When did you meet your mate?”
He flinched. “H-how did you know?”
She blinked up at him. “I can tell you’re hiding something. You won’t flirt with me. You try your damnedest to keep from having any kind of relationship w
ith a woman. It makes sense that you’re still healing from a past relationship.”
He pressed his lips into the firm line. The voice in the back of his mind, her voice, told him to tell Daphne.
“We were young when we met, high school sweethearts actually.” Talking about her was never easy. He sucked his teeth and tried to dredge up more about his wife—his late wife. When he found there wasn’t much he felt the need to tell anymore, he wondered if he had finally shattered. “I loved her. She got sick, though. Human condition that filled her lungs with liquid. She didn’t make it.”
“Don’t tell me the story of how she died,” Daphne said. “Tell me about how you lived. I want to know if my jealousy is warranted, or if I should try to get over it.”
He laughed at her odd request. Tales of his wife seemed so long ago. He counted the years and realized half a decade had slipped by since her passing. Five years of loneliness, of no clan, of hiding. Ford thought that his beast would have had a slow descent into madness. Surely, his mate’s death and the fact that he’d ostracized himself from his clan should have been the last two nails in his coffin.
Yet, here he was, fully functioning. Well, maybe a little cold, but who didn’t have bad days?
He stole a sidelong glance at Daphne, where her cheek still rested against his shoulder. Her warmth filled the hand he kept on the small of her back. It tingled where he touched her. Should anything happen to this woman, his beast would raze the world to avenge her.
Though Ford had been happy with his wife, he hadn’t felt so deeply. His beast had adored her, but not to the degree it felt about Daphne after only a handful of days. Ford could tell himself that the loneliness had taken its toll on his beast, but he was still left to wonder if he’d been wrong.
“Well?” Daphne pushed. “Are you going to tell me about her?”
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have brought her up. I’m making this all about me when you’re sitting here with your feet hurting. Have you fed yourself today?”
Daphne sat up straight and peered at him. A small smile reached her lips. “I’m a shifter. My feet are fine now.”
That might have been the truth, but Ford wanted to treat her tonight. He grabbed her boots before kneeling to scoop her up from the stone wall. She didn’t make a sound, but gripped his shirt like he might drop her any moment.
“Let’s go where no shirt, no shoes, no service isn’t a rule.”
55
Daphne couldn’t imagine an institution that would allow her in without shoes. No nail salon would be open, and she seriously doubted that was where Ford wanted to take her. When he turned back the way he’d come, she had an idea of where they might be going.
When her phone rang and she twisted to get it from her purse, Ford adjusted his hold on her so she couldn’t reach it.
“Leave it,” he told her.
“What if it’s Casey, and Evangeline needs me?”
“If that man truly is her mate, then he should have everything handled. You can have a single night to yourself,” Ford said.
She scowled when his words rang true. So many had relied on her for help over the past years that she struggled to give up the role. To hear the words come from someone other than herself validated the information. Had she said the same thing to herself, she would have accused herself of being weak willed and lazy.
Ford kicked a door open and carried her inside an unfamiliar home. “My place is small. I apologize if that’s going to make you uncomfortable. I’ve known some dragons who can’t bear any room smaller than a football field.”
Daphne laughed and thought of Gavin’s massive cabin. Ford set her down on a plush couch and stepped away to find the light. A lamp in the corner illuminated the small living room. The dining table stood barely four feet away, and the kitchen was directly around the corner from it.
Though the space was as small as Ford had warned, she wasn’t bothered by it. Instead, his scent on everything comforted her. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and hugged it close.
Ford didn’t join her. He disappeared around the corner. She listened to the squeak of cabinet hinges as he opened the doors. She took the time to take in his home. The dining table was covered with spiral-bound notebooks in all stages of use. Some had frayed covers. Some were open, with pens lying on their pages. Others were brand new and waiting to be loved.
She stood and approached them, curious as to what they might contain. Her snooping felt a little shameful, but Ford didn’t spin and curse her when she reached for one. The open notebook bore stains and granules of what she suspected to be spilled salt. Recipe notes filled the margins. Ingredient substitutions and weights filled the rest of the space.
“I thought cooking was a woman’s job,” Daphne said.
Ford’s laugh was rich and hardy, drawing warmth from her core to her chest. She’d never heard him laugh so deeply, and it took her by surprise.
“It helps with the dragon rage,” he said as he set knives on the counter. “When I want to rip and tear at something, I’ll butcher a cut of meat instead. When I want to burn the world to the ground, I’ll char some vegetables. I pour every horrible part of myself into my cooking.”
Daphne paused. “I don’t think you’re horrible.”
Ford braced himself against the counter. His shoulders tightened. Daphne wished she could see his face, but he kept his back to her.
“You don’t know me,” he said quietly.
Daphne didn’t know what to say. How could she fight his own beliefs about himself? He was right that she didn’t know him. She had nothing to draw upon in order to convince him otherwise.
“How often do you want to rip and tear? How often do you want to burn the world to ashes? Both seem pretty drastic. I can’t imagine you want to do either on a daily basis.” She flipped through the nearest notebook.
He looked over his shoulder and pinned her with a knowing look. “Are you telling me you don’t want to do either?”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but she couldn’t. Her dragon had never been as docile as she made it seem. The creature had a fury all her own, but Daphne kept it hidden away from the world as if that might make her appear better off. The reality of the matter was that Daphne wanted to shake everything. She wanted to let her beast throw off the mantle of the perfect creature and run rampant.
“Touché,” was the best she could manage.
She flipped another page and her name appeared. Her heart fluttered. Leaning closer to decipher Ford’s chicken scratch script, she made sense of the scattered page.
Dinner for Daphne.
Beneath her name was a list of different courses. The hastily scrawled paragraphs contained bits of recipes, notes on what to change, and things added in a different pen.
Her heart wouldn’t stop its butterfly-like dance. She couldn’t’ believe Ford had designed a whole menu for her. Though she didn’t expect him to make it for her, to see that she was on his thoughts as much as he was on hers warmed her through and through. Maybe he wasn’t as cold and distant as she’d thought.
When she’d asked him to tell her about the mate he’d lost, he’d faltered. She’d assumed that it was still too difficult for him to talk about her. Now, Daphne wondered if maybe he chose to focus on her instead.
Maybe, Ford was healing.
The truth that he would never be her mate if he’d already had his own hit her. Her heart stuttered and the feeling in her chest faded. She wanted Ford. Watching him move about his small kitchen stoked a fire in her lower stomach. Her hunger had nothing to do with food.
Even if Ford was ready to move on, she would never be able to find the devotion she yearned for. Not with him, at least. He’d been claimed once. Two mates in one lifetime never happened.
When he finally turned, he didn’t have a plate, but a cutting board. She raised a brow and wondered what he would be bringing to her straight from the cutting board, but when he set it before her, she gaped.
“How th
e hell does a single man have so many cheese options in his fridge?” she asked, as she gawked at the display of carefully arranged meats and cheeses. There were also strawberries, a honey pot, cashews, and slices of fresh bread.
Ford plucked a bottle of wine from the top of his fridge and yanked the cork from it with his teeth. Her stomach flipped as he sent it flying into the darkness near the floor. She wanted those teeth to graze her nipples, to drag along her neck until she couldn’t handle the anticipation of it anymore.
Not that she said any of that. She grabbed a slice of meat and a rough-hewn chunk of cheese to cram into her mouth while Ford poured the first glass of wine. Unfortunately, when she finished chewing, she opened her mouth.
“So, is this a date?” She nearly cringed at her own question.
Ford froze. The wine he poured sloshed over the rim of the second glass. He coughed and jerked back before spinning away to retrieve a towel to clean the mess. Daphne cursed herself. This man had endured the worst thing that could possibly happen to a shifter, and she thought she could keep pressuring him into a sexual relationship.
“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” she quickly added.
Ford didn’t answer right away. He stood with his back to her. His muscles tensed, and she nearly went to him to try to ease it away. What good would her hands do if he couldn’t stand the words coming out of her mouth? Touching him wouldn’t help if he didn’t want her.
Then, he slowly faced her with a sly smile. He shook his head. “I’ve never met such a bold woman before.”
She bit her lip while relief overcame her. Ford came back and settled into the chair across from her. She thought about putting her feet into his lap but knew that she couldn’t keep crossing boundaries. Ford might have healed from his mate’s passing, but that didn’t exactly mean he would be ready for what Daphne wanted.
To keep quiet, she steadily snacked on the tray of goodies between them. The wine kept flowing until the tightness between her shoulders melted away and she sank deeper into her seat. After a short while, Ford bent and pulled her feet into his lap. His thumbs worked their way up and down her tired arches.
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