1. Emrie

It was his smile that made me want to choke him. It was more sneer than smile, and it broadcasted to the whole restaurant his disdain and embarrassment being seen with me. I didn't understand it. Why agree to be my date if he had hostile feelings toward me? Why get my number from my Clan?

Was it the way I looked?

No, more likely it was the type of paranormal I was.

Lyonel was a mage—fairly uncommon because of the raw power of their magic, but otherwise normal—and I was a bear shifter.

And being a bear shifter was sometimes fodder for disdain among the paranormal community. Bear shifters were mostly males—it was just how nature worked for us—female bear shifters were rarer than a sunny day in Antarctica. But wherever we bear shifters went in the community, we always got some yahoos who looked down on us. Like we were the country bumpkins in a society of elite, powerful, charismatic paranormals.

For one, we were large, tending toward oversized. We didn't do dainty. We needed large chairs, large cars, large homes, and large clothes. And even though bear shifters in human form were not clumsy at all—sometimes they were even graceful, like my Clanmate Mateo, there were stereotypes about my kind that other paranormals bought into with alarming frequency. We were accused of being dumb, clumsy, socially unaware beings. And whatever thosetypes of paranormals felt toward bear shifters went triple for the rare bear shifter females.

Those like myself.

It was days like today that I almost hated what I was.

I gripped my fork, debating throwing it like a javelin at my date's forehead, and trying really hard not to believe the stereotype that mages were massive—

"Is there a problem with the food?" came a deep, smoky voice from behind me. At the sound of his voice, every single cell in my body relaxed. My death-grip on my fork loosened, my shoulders unknotted and lowered, and every other bunched muscle in my body suddenly released its tension and I breathed out a silent sigh of relief.

Then, when I registered the tone of my best friend's voice, I winced. I slowly tilted my head back to find him standing just behind me, looming over me. His was a face I knew and loved.

He stood with his arms folded across his massive chest, scowling like someone was very soon going to get a beat-down.

Roarke.

My bestie.

Also, one of the last dragon shifters in the world.

Normally he was grumpy and growly—being a dragon shifter probably exacerbated this problem—but today he actually looked like he was considering eating one of his customers. I wanted to tell him not to chance it. Lyonel would probably give him heartburn, what with all the acid he'd been spewing under his breath. Naturally pale and thin, with what I was calling a villainesque goatee and mustache in an indeterminate color somewhere between blonde and brown, Lyonel glanced up at the interruption and went, if possible, even more ashen-white than normal. He looked like he was three seconds away from expiring from terror.

I almost cackled in glee, but managed to restrain my impulses.

I mean, had he forgotten whose restaurant he'd taken me to?

Really?

It dawned on me that we might be creating a scene, so I slowly craned my head around the dining room, checking the other tables. Shy and anxious by nature, I had no desire for people to be a witness to tonight's stupidity. When I couldn't spy anyone staring at us, and all seemed well, I went boneless again in relief.

I was sure it had more to do with people being afraid of the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound dragon shifter behind me, rather than no one noticing what was happening at our table. I didn't care, as long as people weren't staring.

Cor Meum, or Meum to the locals, was a black-tie Italian restaurant in Moonhaven Cove. In fact, Meum and That's Amoré were the only luxury Italian restaurants in town. And Meum did the whole luxury thing well: white tablecloths, fine china, candlelight, sparkling chandeliers, soft, sultry music playing in the background... I was convinced that the smells coming from the kitchen would make even the poshest clients drool. I could verify this, as my Clan brothers and I could smell better than most, and we were by no means posh.

I focused back on my date for the evening. As I'd been woolgathering, Roarke had started to smell like cinders and brimstone behind me, trailing little wisps of smoke. In my experience, that was never a good thing.

I placed my snowy-white linen napkin back on my uneaten plate of delicious-smelling spinach and parmesan ravioli, scooped up the little black purse that I'd chosen to go with my cute-but-classy little black dress, laid down a hundred dollar bill for my water and the forty-dollar ravioli that I hadn't gotten to eat yet, and stood up as gracefully as I could in heels my feet were unfamiliar with.

"In the future, Mr. Lyonel," I said, quietly but with dignity, "please don't speak that way to me again. Bears have excellent hearing, even when someone is speaking under their breath. Perhaps when you saw me through the window, the kindest thing would have been to just leave rather than inflicting your acidic and demeaning company on someone who's done nothing deserving of your acerbic personality. I'll be leaving now. Have a nice evening."

I almost hated myself for that last comment, but I was, by nature, polite. It wasn't in my nature to be nasty or cause a scene, even though it was probably deserved. That didn't mean I was a pushover, however. I could stand up for myself. I just didn't like confrontations. They gave me hives and made me want to go hide in my house for weeks at a time.

Shaking, I left the restaurant. Before the door swished closed, I could hear Roarke's deep voice growl, "What did you say to her!?"The whole restaurant went instantly quiet, and I was insanely happy that I'd gotten out of there just in time. I hurriedly skirted around the crowded tables on the patio, which was lit with romantic fairy-lights and ran to the ornamental garden around the back.

Well, when he heard what Lyonel had said, Roarke wouldn't be any happier with the man. I'd almost gasped aloud at the things the mage had been saying under his breath. I'd actually turned beet red in a combination of anger, mortification, and hurt which had probably alerted someone on Roarke's staff that all was not well in Emrie date-land. Which had then prompted Roarke to come out and intervene and possibly break my date into itty bitty pieces.

Or at least eviscerate him verbally and toss him on his butt outside the restaurant.

I hoped the stupid mage froze to death.

I greeted the cool and crisp late January night air with a thankful sigh. It had been getting stuffy inside. I was thankful Meum had such a beautiful garden behind the restaurant. Even in the dead of winter, there were beautiful plants to enjoy; a huge dome-shaped greenhouse stood behind the restaurant, and guests were welcome to walk through it. The restaurant actually had two greenhouses; the other one was around the side and provided fresh vegetables, herbs, and fruits for the restaurant.

In front of the greenhouse, along an old-fashioned lantern lit path—lit by magelight—was the winter garden. It was planned, planted, and tended by green witches each season of the year. Roarke paid for the extra maintenance to keep it looking nice. The winter garden, which was one of my favorites, had several winter-blooming plants and flowers along with several water features, including the famous dragon fountain that remained no matter the season.

A huge copper dragon sat peacefully on top of the fountain, with what looked like magma and water running from his open mouth. The orange and red backlit water filled the large basin beneath him, which overflowed into another larger basin below, and then the last, largest basin at the bottom. The fountain was surrounded by beautiful benches, more fairy-lights, and the deep, serene feeling of healing magic that permeated everything. It was a favorite place of mine in the city, and I came often to soak in the peaceful atmosphere.

Sometimes, in a Clan full of mostly male bear shifters, peace was a hot commodity, and one I didn't ever take for granted.

Thinking about my Clan made me smile, and I wondered which of them had given Lyonel my number.

You'd think I'd know who'd set me up on this blind date, but the truth was there were at least two or three culprits who would do it, and totally think they were doing the right thing. Bears who knew me, and loved me, and understood how much I wanted a family and mate of my own.

At least one of them kept choosing guys like the one tonight. Guys who were bad news and left me feeling weary beyond belief, and so fed up that I swore off peopling for a while.

It was probably Drew, our newest and youngest Clan member. Drew was in his late teens, around nineteen I think, and was prone to acting and speaking without thinking first. I didn't fault him for it for the most part I knew he'd grow out of it. Eventually...

Roarke interrupted my musings as he came around a bend in the pathway, bearing yummy smelling food that made my stomach snarl. He was still trailing a faint line of smoke, so I took the bag of food and the drinks away from him and let him cool off a bit while I explored what he'd brought me.

"I nabbed the last piece of pumpkin cheesecake for you," he said gruffly, and I could hear the affection he had for me in his voice. He was never grumpy with me, no matter what was going on in his day, or how frustrated or angry he was with someone else.

I went to kiss his cheek in gratitude for rescuing me and bringing me sustenance, but thought better of it when I noticed his skin was flushed a dark, crimson red.

This was unusual. I'd seen him flame up like this a couple of times in the years that I'd known him, but he was usually quick to calm down again. For some reason it was taking him longer than normal to chill this time. I eyed him with unease for a moment, then carefully set the food and drinks down beside me on the bench—far enough away that the smoke and heat from Roarke wouldn't taint the food—and scooted closer to him.

"I'm okay, Roarke," I said.

He snorted and smoke shot out of his nostrils. I coughed and waved it away from my face. "No, you're not. You say that like putting up with"—he growled a curse in Irish Gaelic—"is your full-time job, and like it doesn't hurt you. I know it does." He swallowed, and his eyes turned dark red, like a vampire's before a feeding.

Uh-oh.

"I've held you while you cried over these"—more Gaelic curse words—"and I'm sick to death of the males in this town treating you this way. If I thought you'd agree, I'd fly you right now to another of the paranormal towns. Or we could go to Italy, it's beautiful this time of year. Maybe we could find our mates there. We could be roommates while we look, eat all the Italian food we can stomach, and be happy.

And let me tell you, Italians know how to treat women. Draven is a perfect example. He cherishes and adores Mia, not," he flung his hand out dismissively, waving and encompassing the whole of Moonhaven Cove, "whatever these"—more Gaelic cursing—"are doing."

I knew he bought spelled clothing so it didn't go to ash when he got a little steamy, so I felt confident that touching his black dress pants wouldn't burn my hand off. I placed a hand on his thighs, feeling the warmth and power radiating from his skin through his pants, and tilted my head up to so I could see him eye-to-eye. "I'm okay, really. I just needed a moment in your beautiful gardens."

Roarke reached out his hand, and with a very gentle, slightly-too-warm finger lifted something off of my cheek. "Then what is this?"

It was a tear. I hadn't even realized I'd been silently crying as I sat out here alone. The heat of his skin made my tear disappear into a cloud of steam, like he was a draconian magician.

I smiled softly and tried to tease, "It's all the smoke coming off you. You're hot; I can't help it."

Yeah, I'd just called my best friend hot.

Again.

The sad thing was, this wasn't the first time I'd blundered into doing that, and I knew it wouldn't be the last. Roarke tactfully didn't mention my low-key flirting with him.

He shook his head, and I belatedly realized he was shaking his head because I'd said I was okay. He still didn't believe me. But he should have, because the truth was, I only accepted dates that could accommodate going to one of Roarke's restaurants, and only when Roarke was working on that specific evening. Because whatever crap-shoot or cataclysmic disaster happened to my evenings, being with Roarke afterward always made it better.

The red of Roarke's skin was dimming, making his normally pale skin-tone slightly pink. I almost smiled because whenever he cooled down from a slight flame up, he reminded me of a cupid, but more growly and fierce. The crimson red also bled from his eyes, bringing back the vibrant azure and opal colors that I loved so much.

The whites of his eyes literally looked opalescent in certain lights. I thought his eyes were gorgeous and unique, and I teased him about them all the time. That, combined with his long, dark eyelashes, silky black hair, the edge of mixed black and colorful tattoos peeking out from his right shirt sleeve—that I happened to know also went from one pec over his shoulder and down his arm, his draconic physique—large and muscly, and his beautiful smile made him one of the hottest bachelors in Moonhaven Cove.

Literally.

I snorted and shook my head at my irreverent humor.

The truth was, his good looks aside, I admired Roarke for so many reasons.

Though he looked to be in his early forties, he was probably over seven hundred years old—I'd never gotten an exact age from him—and he was ridiculously strong. Yet, for all of his strength he only used it to protect, save and help others. I'd never seen him use it inappropriately in all the years I'd known him, and man, could he really whomp someone with it if he chose to!

He was a grump with everyone else, including his oldest friend, King Draven. But with me? He was tender, thoughtful, kind, and considerate. I loved that he was intelligent and fierce in his defense of those he cared for. Also? He worked his butt off. Not because he had to pay the bills, but because he loved what he did. In fact, Meum wasn't his only restaurant. He had three others: Guadium Meum, Mea Flamma, and Passio Animae Meae, which the locals called Dium, Flame, and Passion. Each of his restaurants were a masterpiece.

I could go on.

He was thoughtful, he had a great sense of humor, was patient with me and my anxieties, shyness, and insecurities. He had a soft spot for kids and animals. I mean, the list was endless. And there were very few tally marks in the don't like column. Although he did have a few of those.

We all did. No one was perfect.

But for me, Roarke came pretty close.

I asked myself for the millionth time why the Maker couldn't have given me Roarke as a mate. I mean, I loved him. I truly, from the depths of my soul, loved him. And it wasn't a fly-by-night love. It was deep, and abiding, and definitely here to stay. I knew this because I'd tried to talk myself out of it one too many times, and my feelings hadn't gone away. If anything, they'd just grown stronger.

I didn't know if he felt the same way, but it wouldn't have done any good even if he did. Shifters only ever bonded with their mates. Sometimes you found your mate early in life, and sometimes you never did. Because of my condition, I fully expected that I would be one of the ones that never did. The thought alone made my chest ache, but I breathed through it, and blinked away the tears.

There was a reason a romantic relationship between he and I was hopeless. A very good one.

Roarke was one of the last dragon shifters in the world.

In. The. World.

He would never take a partner without being assured that they could have children, as only mates could. Our biochemistry only worked with our mates. That wasn't to say that we couldn't be attracted to others who weren't our mates, but the building blocks and DNA of each shifter only saw their equal in their mate. And it wasn't something up for debate, it was just how being a shifter worked. Many shifters had tried to circumvent the mate bond through science, pills, potions and spells, but in the end, this is how we were created. And for Roarke to marry someone and not be able to have children because she wasn't his mate? It would be irresponsible of him as an almost extinct dragon shifter, and just plain unthinkable. For him to be the last of his line? For there to be no tiny, chubby children with his eyes and smile toddling around the world?

I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the blast of icy wind coming in off the coast.

Unthinkable. Unpalatable. And any other Un word I could think of.

I wasn't as rare as he was, but it was a close thing. Female bear shifters were very few in number, with only one or two being born every other generation.

No. We both had to find our mates.

And when we did, it would change everything.

I swallowed, choking on the suffocating tightness of my throat.

Sometimes life just sucked.

My hand was still on his leg. He covered it with his much larger one, his skin only now cool enough for his touch to be comfortable for me. His eyes searched mine. "I'm sorry, Em." His voice was hoarse. Whether from his flame-up or from emotion, I didn't know. Maybe both.

I sighed and finally kissed his cheek. "It's going to be okay," I said. Then I straightened my shoulders and grabbed the bags from the bench beside me, peeking inside again. "Let's eat before this delicious food goes to waste." I handed him the one with his name on it, grabbed mine, and sniffed it appreciatively. Heaven. I was in Roarke-made heaven. "Thank you, this smells amazing!"

"Of course it does," Roarke said gruffly, scooting closer to me so that his hips aligned with mine on the bench and our legs were touching.

I laughed and shook my head. Roarke was never short of confidence when it came to his skills in the kitchen or in a restaurant. And his confidence—dare I say arrogance—was well deserved. He was a master chef in a world full of amateurs. Although, those with chef magic probably came close.

Confidence was a natural thing for dragon shifters. They were the top dogs, and they knew it and owned it. I on the other hand... Well, let's just say I felt like a square peg in a world full of round holes. Usually, I tried not to let what others said about me get me down, but it did sometimes. In the dark of my house at night, or in my bedroom as my mind was shuffling through the events of the day, I wondered if people like Lyonel were right. And in those times, I felt so very, very alone.

Roarke and I ate in companionable silence, enjoying the fountain, the garden, the lights, and the sound of the ocean below us. It was really peaceful and did me a lot of good. Roarke got up to throw away the containers and then sat back down, pulling me against his side again and wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

His touching and cuddling with me always walked the line between friendship and something more. He was very careful that way. Sometimes I wondered if he could sense my feelings for him, but I usually shut that thought down quickly, because that would be a whole lot of notgood. I was pretty sure it would make things awkward, for one. Roarke was probably mature enough to handle it, but I would want to crawl into the nearest hole and hope I suddenly developed the ability to hibernate for the winter.

After about thirty minutes of silence between us, Roarke spoke again. "I kicked him out and told him to stay away from my restaurants. He's not welcome ever again. I hope he tries to sneak into one while I'm there."

I shivered at the growly sound of promised—and much looked forward to—violence in his voice. I hated that this kept happening, and that it was affecting my best friend so much. Not only affecting him personally, but also affecting his restaurants! "You shouldn't turn away paying customers, Roarke. With the way my dates have been going, you'd be turning away a lot of Moonhaven."

He shrugged, looking unconcerned. "I only have the businesses because I like to keep busy, and I like to cook. I don't need the money. I have enough for a hundred lifetimes."

I shook my head. "What of your employees? I don't think they can say the same. Besides, I love your restaurants. I'd be heartbroken if you shut them down, especially Meum and Flame."

Roarke gently tilted my chin up with his forefinger so he could meet my eyes. "You mean that?"

I nodded, trying not to fidget at his touch or let my face broadcast how much his touch affected me.

He searched my face for a bit before nodding curtly. "They stay open, then. But he's not welcome." More smoke spiraled from his nostrils.

I waved the smoke away like a pro who's used to being around chain smokers and tried shifting the subject to something else. Again. He wouldn't change his mind. If there was another being on the face of this earth more stubborn than a dragon, I'd love to meet them, because I doubted they existed.

I shook my head and leaned against his shoulder, suddenly weary. "Sheep?" I asked, out of the blue. It was a game of ours, wherein I tried to guess what hoards he had. As a dragon, I knew he had a few, but he was very mum about them, refusing to tell anyone what they were. Mostly I was curious, but I was also tired of never getting invited to his house for movie night, because apparently his hoards were not the size or type you could just shove in a closet when company came over.

While movie night at my house was fine, I wanted him to be comfortable enough with me to invite me over. I thought he was that comfortable with me. It was possible, though, that his hoards were very embarrassing. In which case, I needed to see them sooner rather than later because I needed a lift of my spirits and excellent fodder for blackmail.

He laughed, the sound smoky and sexy. It made my skin tingle and my belly swoop. "If I had sheep, I would eat them, or I'd introduce a lot of new lamb dishes to the restaurants."

Poor, poor lambs.

"Shot glasses?"

He snorted, looking down at me with fondness and amusement. "You'll not guess, cailín."

"1800's ladies' dresses?"

His laughter filled the garden, echoing down the lantern lit pathways. I smiled and laid my head back on his shoulder. I'd figure it out eventually.

Later,I entered my cozy little home on Clan property and flipped on a light, reaching down to undo one strap on my heel and then the other. I sighed in relief when they were both off, then walked on tender feet to my bedroom to dump them in my closet. I really wasn't a fan of heels. And I didn't understand the females who loved them. They were like the boned corsets of the 19th century, except for your feet. And like a slave to peer pressure, I had several pairs of them. Ironically, the peer pressure had come from my male Clan members. None of whom wore heels. What did they know about fashion?

I didn't see or smell Kona—our resident Koala that Ben had given into the Moonhaven Bear Clan to keep safe, healthy, and happy—anywhere in my house as I flipped on another light. But that didn't mean anything, because Kona could go invisible and literally be anywhere. And for some reason, he loved hanging out at my house more than the others in the Clan, even though we passed him around from house to house quite often.

"Kona?" I called, sniffing around. My nose was telling me he'd been in the house recently, but wasn't here at the moment. I also couldn't hear him snoring or otherwise making mischief, so I assumed he was with a brother for the evening.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I mean, I loved the little guy, but he was a rascal.

I changed out of my little black dress and put on some comfy sweatpants and a Moonhaven Cove sweater that was old, stretched out, ratty and very, very comfortable.

I needed new clothes. It took forever to find stuff I loved that fit my tall and curvy body perfectly, so when I did find them, I wore them out. Most of my stuff had holes, rips, stains and/or bite marks from my over-exuberant Clan, or it was so threadbare that it was practically indecent. Roarke had been threatening for ages to lock me in a department store until I bought some new things.

He'd do it too, so I should maybe think about getting some clothing soon. I laughed and went to go heat up the spaghetti that Roarke had sent home with me. I had a shifter's metabolism, and that meant I was frequently hungry. Although Taco, one of my Clan, literally seemed to eat 24/7 and had most shifters beat by a long shot. Hence, his nickname, which my Clan members had given him. In fact, I didn't know of any small eaters in my Clan, unless they were the mates of the bear shifters, or the small cubs.

Shifter mates could literally be any type of person. Another shifter of the same species, a different species, any type of paranormal, even humans. The only humans in Moonhaven were the spouses of paranormals, and they were spelled to secrecy so they couldn't reveal our town to anyone.

King Draven, one of the founders, and those supernaturals that made up the PNW Council, hadn't wanted to take any chances. This place was our sanctuary. Our haven, where we could live in the world but be separate and have our own space. It was the best of both worlds, and none of the citizens wanted it to be wrecked by someone with a grudge or loose lips. So, secrecy was super important, and guaranteed through both potion and spell. The spell covered the town itself, and the potion covered those who left for any length of time.

I took my plate and glass of ice water to my sofa and snuggled my fuzzy lap blanket around my hips and thighs, just like I liked it, then I settled in with Roarke's amazing spaghetti and meatballs and an animated comedy TV show.

I didn't watch most adult television. It made my heart hurt. There was too much violence, and I hated the swearing. I chuckled as I bit into a succulent meatball, which was spicy and tangy and so, so good. I hummed in delight and scooped up another.

My sensitivity to swearing was the reason Roarke only swore in Gaelic around me. And it was for that exact reason that I'd never learned his native tongue. Sometimes I wanted to know what the softer sounding words he said meant, especially the ones he frequently said to me, but I didn't want to be able to translate his swearing, so I'd never learned.

I turned off the TV when the show was over and got ready for bed. As I lay there, my mind churning over the events of the day, my phone buzzed, and without even looking at it, I knew who it was.

Roarke- You asleep yet?

Nope. Just got in bed.

My phone was silent for so long after that that I thought he'd gotten busy with something else, so I put it back on my nightstand. Then, a few minutes later, it finally buzzed again.

Roarke- He was an idiot.

Lyonel?

Roarke- Yes.

I thought for a minute.

You know, at some point I have to acknowledge that I'm the common factor in these encounters.

It's me. I'm the problem, it's me.

Roarke- The only common factor is the fact that you're going out with—

And then the rest was literally bleeped out with blobs of words that had black shadows over them and symbols. The symbols meant that it was a particularly vicious curse. He'd paid for an app to be created that blocked outgoing curse words in any language and installed it to his phone for me. And he'd done it without ever saying a word about the cost or inconvenience, which I knew from what little I knew about coding and the cost of creating something like this, must have been a lot.

Roarke!

My phone rang. I rolled my eyes and answered. "Do you kiss your mama with that mouth," I asked, in lieu of a greeting.

He chuckled, and the smoky deep sound made my stomach flutter again. "When she was alive, I did, yes."

I winced. Great, Emrie. Way to go bringing up his dead mom. A for effort. I took a careful breath and closed my eyes, shutting out my deep, blue-grey walls and my fluffy white comforter. After a beat of silence I said, "Do you know how much I value your friendship? How much I value you?"

The line went quiet. In fact, I couldn't even hear him breathing for a moment. "I do. I value our friendship as well." His voice was husky. "I value you, cailín. I think you're amazing."

I blinked back the sting of tears in my eyes.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "Good night, Roarke. Sleep well."

"G'night, cailín. You too."

I curled up on my side and drifted to sleep. And the only thing on my mind as I fell asleep was that smoky, deep voice of Roarke's, the warmth of his body next to mine in the gardens earlier, and the bright ember of our friendship.