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 with 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.