With a low chuckle, Tyson tossed a small duffle bag at Ari. “I guessed your size.”
Checking the bag’s interior, he let out his own chuckle. Blue jeans, another simple black T-shirt, and a pair of black leather hiking boots. Good choice. The alpha knew him well. With the mood Ari was in, if Tyson had brought him chinos and loafers, Ari would probably have started a war there and then.
He dressed as Tyson surveyed the mess, chest tight, and then walked to the warehouse door to stare at the empty street outside. Drawing in a slow breath, he thought of Jilly.
Their connection was truly severed.
He didn’t doubt that.
Garrison had destroyed it, with druid magic, for his own selfish lust.
Something powerful and beautiful and ancient and preordained…dissolved, just like that.
He pictured Jilly standing before him, her dress torn, her creamy skin grazed and bruised, her lips curled in a shy smile.
They’d barely spent an hour in each other’s presence, maybe not even that, and yet she was already a part of his life. Without her, a piece of his reason for existence was gone.
Irritation rolled through him. An hour in the twelve-hour mating-fire period. An hour during which they were meant to be lost to each other’s bodies and desire and pleasure.
Instead, he’d chased her across Sydney, fought with a fucking dragon hunter, battled druid magic and watched her walk away from him after a mere brush of their lips.
His Fire Mate.
Except she wasn’t. Not anymore. Thanks to Derek Garrison.
Derek Garrison—currently alive.
Breathing air. Taking up space.
Destroying hope…
Fury erupted inside him and, a low growl tearing in his chest, he pivoted on his heel and stormed across the warehouse floor, his stare fixed on the unconscious prick.
“Slow, slow, slow.” Tyson stepped into his path, palms facing him, expression relaxed and calm. “Put a hold on that murderous rage, Drake.”
Ari narrowed his eyes at the alpha. He stood taller than Tyson by half a foot. In human form, Ari could beat him. Break him.
“You know what he did,” he ground out. “To me. To Jilly. I can’t—”
“Kill him,” Tyson cut him off. “Trust me, I know you want to. But even our kind have to live by human law. He’s not a hunter, he’s currently defenseless and unconscious. You kill him…it’s premeditated murder. And unlike Extraho Venator, I have a feeling if he went missing, people would notice. He’s got a pretty big reputation in this country as a chef, remember. And it wouldn’t just be customers who wonder where he went. I bet my left nut he’s got investors in his business. You’re the best Cleaner in Australia, mate, but you can’t make every hassle disappear with a click of your fingers and a flash of grin. Do you really want the cops tracing his disappearance to you and your Fire Mate?”
“Jilly isn’t my Fire Mate anymore.” His head pounded. His body thrummed. “Thanks to Garrison!”
“So?” Tyson shrugged. “Does that mean you can’t see the woman ever again?”
Ari balled his fists. “The druid stole the magic meant for us. He needs to hurt for that!”
The emptiness in him where his hunger for Jilly had been grew colder. And yet it was nothing compared to the emptiness at not seeing her smile, her eyes. At not hearing her quick wit and feisty bravado.
Tyson studied him, expression unreadable. Enigmatic. “He wanted Jillian Parker for himself, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then what better suffering than for him not to have her? Can you imagine how bleak, how miserable a lifetime of wanting someone you can never have would be?”
Ari clenched his jaw. He pulled another breath.
“Did Jillian tell you she never wanted to see you again, Arriman?”
The low question, asked with a calm Ari found unnerving, jerked his stare from Garrison’s motionless body. He regarded Tyson, head roaring.
“No,” he answered. “In fact, I’m meant to take her out Thursday night. But what are the chances she’ll still want that when she gets home, when she’s had time to think about everything that’s happened to her?”
“She knows what you are?”
Ari nodded.
“And she’s human?”
“A little bit more than that. Garrison told her she’s a dragon shifter of pagan descent, incapable of shifting due to some kind of ancient ceremony. It explains why we’re Fire Mates.” His gut clenched. “Or…were.”
Tyson chuckled, the sound low. And as enigmatic as his earlier expression.
Ari scowled. “That’s funny to you?”
Tyson laughed this time. Actually laughed. “No. No, not at all. What’s funny is, I know all about your history, mate. I know you’re smarter than you let on, and you’ve a taste for scholarly learning. Five university degrees, am I correct? That’s how many you have?”
Ari sucked in a sharp breath and stared at the alpha.
“Go do some reading, Arriman.” Tyson clapped a firm hand on Ari’s wounded shoulder, mischief dancing in his eyes as Ari bit back a wince. “Use that big brain of yours you hide behind the tough-guy Viking persona, find out what you can about pagans and dragons, and then turn up at Jillian Parker’s door with a bouquet of flowers Thursday evening.”
A thick lump filled Ari’s throat. “And if she doesn’t want to see me?”
“Woo her. The old-fashioned way.” Tyson grinned. “Sometimes the magic of love has nothing to do with ancient destinies and everything to do with the power of the heart…and simple conversation and common interests.”
Heart beating fast—too fast—Ari searched Tyson’s eyes for any hint of mocking jest.
There wasn’t any. Just a sincerity that stirred something deep in Ari.
Hope.
“Get out of here, Drake,” Tyson said, releasing Ari’s shoulder. “I’m going to have a chat with our druid over there when he comes to. Maybe suggest to him a trip to Scotland or Wales or, hell, I don’t know, Iceland is in order. It’s probably best he’s as far from you and Ms. Parker as possible.” He arched a dark eyebrow. “For his own wellbeing.”
Ari grunted.
“Go.” Tyson pointed at the warehouse door behind Ari.
