The unusual mix made him more aggressive than the rest of his kind. More powerful, too, able to shift between Dragonkind subsets, causing others to miscategorize him. The usual Dragonkind principles didn’t apply to him. Some nights, his brothers-in-arms called him a venomous dragon. Other times, he got labeled an earth dragon, or even a Metallic depending on his mood.
Truth was, he didn’t know where he fell on the continuum. He straddled the supernatural sphere, moving between skill sets when it served him, commanding more than one kind of magic. A gift from his bastard sire, no doubt.
Not that Kruger cared. The male hadn’t loved him enough to fight for the right to raise him. Hell, could be his sire didn’t love him at all. All evidence pointed in that direction. Silfer had discarded his mother the second she became pregnant and ignored Kruger after he was born, shirking his responsibilities, exiling his son to the Scottish Highlands.
Out of sight, out of mind. No love lost. Ever the way of gods and goddesses.
He tried not to think about it, tried not to wonder how different his life would be—how much more he’d understand about himself—if his sire had loved him. More useless thoughts accompanied by questions he needed to stop asking. He kept telling himself to put the past to bed, let his history go and accept the sharp edges of his nature. Some things, after all, couldn’t be changed…and should never be lamented.
He wasn’t built for deep connection. The interactions he had with his brothers-in-arms every night proved it. He stood on the fringes, a member of the Scottish pack while remaining an outsider. Unlike his packmates, Kruger didn’t want a female of his own. He understood loyalty, not love. He enjoyed sex, not intimacy. A wealth of experience told him he wasn’t capable of loving anyone. Fact not fiction, a simple statement of the truth, but—
Bloody hell. Look at her.
Glorious coloring. Gorgeous energy wrapped up in a pretty package he wanted to explore. Having her under him, over him…shite. He didn’t care how it happened, just as long as she landed in his bed, and he learned what she sounded like when she came. What she looked like when she—
“Who are you?”
Her voice hit him again. Prickles rampaged down his spine. Swallowing hard, Kruger tried to find his voice.
Hendrix beat him to it. “His name is Kruger, my liege.”
Arching a bright copper brow, she threw the gorgon a sidelong glance. “I thought you said he was a dragon.”
“He is, my liege. A dragon warrior from the Scottish pack.”
“But…” She trailed off, sounding confused.
“Bloody hell,” Kruger rasped, accidentally broadcasting his alarm through mind-speak.
A mistake. A big one Rannock wasted no time exploiting.
“Feel like flying home now?”
“Bugger off.”
“Didnae think so,” his friend said, unable to resist rubbing it in.
“Go home, Ran.”
“No way.” The heavy thump of wings beat through the line. “Didnae get a close look at her earlier. I’m coming in. Gonna make sure it’s all good, call the lads, fill ’em in, then—”
“Do that, and I’ll rip yer face off.”
Rannock laughed.
Kruger drew a much-needed breath. His sonar vibrated. His heartbeat raged as territorial instinct carved out his insides. Pale eyes fixed on him, the innkeeper sidestepped Hendrix. The major-domo murmured a warning and blocked her by holding out his arm, preventing her from getting any closer.
Good call. The best, given Kruger’s control lay in tatters.
He fought to contain his reaction. A noble battle, one Kruger knew he needed to win, but…
Goddess, with his beast rampaging, the urge to touch her bombarded him. Locking his frame, he withstood the barrage, but if she took one more step…just one fucking more…he’d snap, and she of the gorgeous energy and flaming red hair would end up naked beneath him.
Bad mojo. Terrible decision making.
He needed her scared shitless. He needed her gone. He needed to stick to the plan and complete the mission. Nothing but disaster would come from becoming attached to the innkeeper.
But as he held her gaze, ferocious need grabbed hold, spinning him in dangerous directions as logic died and desire took on a life of its own.
5
Blocked from moving into the living room, Ferguson didn’t know what she wanted to do more—continue staring at Kruger, or call Hendrix crazy. The guy standing in her new apartment didn’t look like a dragon. She’d expected scales, claws, sharp teeth, and bad breath. Or at the very least, to find him hoarding expensive silverware in the kitchen, but…
He looked human. Raw, elemental, fierce, for sure, but also all man.
Peering around Hendrix, she ran her gaze over Kruger again. Tall guy, built strong with wavy dark hair and beautiful bone structure. Physical perfection blunted by the sharp edge of intensity. The kind of man who commanded attention. A lot of it, no doubt making women everywhere stop short and stand up straighter. In the hopes of drawing his eye—for an hour, an afternoon, or, if she got lucky, an entire weekend.
Much like her ex-husband. A lot like her stepbrothers.
The world loved handsome men, laying bounty on silver platters at their feet. Easy pickings. Few hardships. Tons of entitlement shaped by the belief life owed them the best, and everyone in their orbit better fall in line.
The reminder jabbed at her. Anger flicked its thorny tail, nudging her temper.
An unfair reaction, maybe. One full of judgment. Something Kruger hadn’t yet earned. She didn’t know the guy, after all. Could be he wasn’t anything like the men she’d left behind in Chicago. Could be nothing more than bad timing and frustration on his part. Could be a lot of things, but as she held his gaze, intuition gave her insight. Past experiences and still-open wounds did the rest. The fact the dragon warrior stood in her living room uninvited, acting like a jerk, signaled his intent.
Kruger wasn’t the welcome wagon. He wanted something. Or worse, planned to upend her apple cart before she took control of The White Hare, making it impossible for her to settle into her new home.
Hugging the binder to her chest, she scowled at him.
Kruger flinched. Not a lot. Hardly at all before his expression went blank. His eyes, though, didn’t lie. She caught the glimmer of unease, saw disquiet surface in the shimmering red band that ringed the outside of his pitch-black irises. The sharpening of his features gave him away too. His growl, though, landed like a blow. The low sound scrambled her composure, slipping beneath the surface of her skin.
Dormant parts of her woke in the sudden rush. Things she’d thought long dead. Errant urges her ex-husband helped kill. Heat and awareness. Vulnerability infused with a sense of purpose. The undeniable rise of femininity as appreciation crested and desire rolled. None of which she needed, given Kruger’s rampant masculinity more than matched the needs she’d been denying.
She hadn’t had sex in…
God, years. It felt like years. Could be years, given the state of her marriage before she left.
Unbeknownst to her, Brent had continued playing the field after the wedding: business meetings, client events, weekends away to consult on cases. Great excuses. All of which she bought. No reason to doubt him…at first. Three years in, after waking up alone—again—she’d rolled out of bed with a knot in the pit of her stomach, unable to put her finger on why, or understand the reason he no longer wanted her.