At the mention of the beta Cleaner, Ari growled.
Tyson chuckled.
“Wear something nice, Ari. Girls like it when their men get dressed up for them.”
And with that, Tyson Conley turned and walked away from Ari, dismissing him as surely as that.
Ari watched him approach Garrison, who stirred, lifting his head, squinting up at the alpha.
A rush of rage consumed Ari, hot and demanding. He stiffened, stare fixed on the barely conscious man.
I promise I won’t hurt him.
His words to Jilly filled his head and, with a slow exhalation, he turned on his heel and walked from the warehouse.
He didn’t know what Tyson had planned for Garrison, but the time to care had passed.
He climbed astride the borrowed Ducati, kicked over the engine, pointed the bike toward his home and took off. He had reading to do. And a dinner reservation to make.
He could do this. Living life like a normal human couldn’t be that hard, right?
A block from home, he changed his mind.
Books and dinner reservations be damned.
He wasn’t human. He was a dragon shifter. And so was his Fire Mate…regardless of what the druid had done to her.
He knew exactly what had to happen next.
Regardless of what the outcome would be, it had to be done.
It took him over forty minutes to arrive at Jilly’s apartment.
Alighting from the Ducati, he looked up at the floor he knew to be hers. Curtains wafted through the open windows. He didn’t have to look closer to know there was no glass in the frames. Only a few hours ago, he’d blown out those windows with his rage at Garrison. A lifetime had passed since then.
There was no evidence of shattered glass on the footpath. Someone had cleaned up the mess. Who though? Dragon? Human?
Didn’t matter.
What mattered now was Jilly. Talking to her, letting her know—
The curtains wafted through her windows and his heart smashed up into his throat.
Jilly. Moving through her living room.
His pulse quickened. His stomach knotted.
The reaction was nothing like the mating-fire response, and yet so much more potent.
Was this what human desire felt like? This…this raw uncertainty and yearning? A longing beyond description threaded with an unknown expectation? The mating fire meant desire and sexual hunger was unquestionably mutual. What he was feeling now…
Fuck, what if Jilly told him to go away?
What if she—
He shut down the bleak thoughts. Ground his teeth on the self-doubt and fear gnawing at him.
Chest tight, breathing shallow, he strode into the lobby and crossed to the stairwell. Screw waiting for the elevator.
He took the stairs three at a time. Apprehension ate at him. Longing and desire and worry and uncertainty warred in his core.
Goddamn it, human desire was a tormenting, harrowing and downright daunting thing.
And now, you’re experiencing it.
His heart tried to choke him as he came to a halt at her door.
He stood, frozen. Stared at its painted wooden surface. Strained to hear the noises on the other side. All he could hear was the canon of his pulse thumping in his ears.
Shuffling his feet, he looked down at himself.
Wear something nice, Tyson had said.
Ill-fitting, borrowed Levi jeans, a black Blackthorne T-shirt that was too damn tight around his chest, biceps and shoulders, and hiking boots that had seen better days.
Wear something nice?
The knot in Ari’s gut twisted. Was this to be the first of many failures to come?
Closing his eyes, all too aware of the panic welling up inside him, he sucked in a slow breath.
You can do this, Drake. You can.
He opened his eyes and knocked on Jilly’s door.
Three pounding, bone-shaking heartbeats later, she opened it.
His breath burst from him in a rush. Hell, she was beautiful.
A pair of baggy jeans and a Star Wars T-shirt covered her lush curves, smudges of soot and ash anointing her cheeks and forehead. Her hair hung over her shoulder in a thick braid and the distinct scent of her played with his senses.
Behind her, the mess he’d left of her apartment tormented him. He should have arranged someone to clean it up for her. She shouldn’t have to be doing it herself. That wasn’t fair or just or—
“Ari…” she whispered, gazing up at him.
He stared at her. Devoured her with his eyes.
“What’s your favorite movie?” he asked, the question little more than a husky croak.
A frown pulled at her eyebrows, and then that same shy smile he’d adored back in the warehouse curled her lips. “How to Train Your Dragon. Yours?”
He smiled. An exquisite warmth began to spread through him, fill him. “Date Night. Steve Carell is a comic genius.”
“I liked him in Anchorman.”
He let out a chuckle, even as he forced himself to stay still. What happened next for them was all in Jilly’s court now. Had to be. Her decision. Her choice…
She may be a dragon shifter, but the mating fire no longer ruled either of them.
Her decision was no longer based on ancient Fate and magic, but something far more profound. Far more…real.
Genuine attraction, interest and desire.
Fuck, he’d never been so scared in his life.
“Anchorman is one of my favorites,” he said, voice huskier than ever. “Made me laugh so much I got the hiccups. Plus, I feel like I need to go to San Diego at some point, just so I can tell it to ‘stay classy.’”
Jilly caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Her eyes danced with laughter. “If I asked you to come inside and kiss me, would you, Arriman Drake?”
Ari dragging in a steadying breath. “Hell yeah,” he growled.
Her cheeks turned a delicious pink. “Come inside and kiss me, Ari.”
He did.
A lot.
And before he stopped, the desire consuming him, consuming them both, burned hot.
As hot at the mating fire ever could.
And then hotter.
As they moved together as one, their bodies joined, their hearts in rhythm, his croi ignited once again, and Jilly called out his name and erupted in the magic blue flames of the mating fire’s soul connection.
Ari… Her thoughts whispered through his mind
