9. Jaiyana

CHAPTER NINE

JAIYANA

I woke to one of the best smells in the world: bacon. My stomach growled and twisted painfully. I pressed my hand against it. Even that slight motion sent a ripple of discomfort over my sore muscles and bruised body.

Calling on my magic, I banished the pain. Only everything still hurt.

‘Fuck.' I squeaked before punching the amazing black silk pillow I'd slept on.

Yesterday hadn't been a dream.

You're on an adventure, Harry.

That's not the quote.

I flicked my fingers, remembering the feel of the Ley Line.

Had it actually called to me? Or had someone set me up? I racked my brain for who still had the power and motivation to trap me like this, but I came up empty.

Since the rise of technology, I'd lost track of most of my friends. If I was being honest, I spent the last fifty years, maybe more, just going through the motions. Depression was real. I hadn't spent my days crying or being self-destructive. I just existed. Momentary joys never stuck around. Time passed both too slowly and too fast in a fog of nothing.

I wasn't happy. On some level I knew, but it took this fucking mess for me to truly understand how bad I felt.

Admitting your problem is always the first step.

You're my problem!

Isn't everyone's worst problem themselves?

My stomach growled and twisted again. I forced my sore body to a seated position, careful not to disturb the bandages around my injuries.

Movement through the open door caught my eye. Tyson grinned before turning and disappearing. My last memory was of him running from me. I didn't understand what his expression this morning meant.

The sound of pots banging and chopping made my stomach grumble.

Maybe you're not the reason he ran.

I lifted the unfamiliar black tee with a Celtic pattern on the front and sniffed.

It smells like man, with a hint of scotch.

Probably his! He didn't run from you, see.

Maybe – but it would have been better if he had.

I wrinkled my nose.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making up the entire right wall. A pile of rubble sat on the massive balcony on the other side of it. My new friend had a temper.

I rubbed one of my bare legs. I needed some bottoms if I was leaving this bed.

Dragons loved to hoard physical objects, and Tyson walked in his scaly ancestor's footsteps. A crazy walk-in closet filled with mirrors, drawers, and racks of hanging gem and gold fabrics transported me to a different world. Although I spent a dizzying moment lost, I managed to find a pair of gold boxers. After rolling down the waist enough times that they would mostly stay on, I navigated back to the bedroom.

The sounds of cooking still came through the cracked door. I tapped my fingers on my knee. Dragons were emotionally volatile, fiercely possessive, and extremely territorial. For better or for worse, they were highly intelligent and loyal to a fault.

Based on Tyson's actions last night and his closet, it was safe to assume dragon shifters shared a lot of those traits.

He called you his soul mate.

He wanted to get laid.

So do you.

Shut up.

After sitting in indecision like a fucking teenage girl, I finally walked out of the bedroom.

Tyson turned from his cooking and smiled at me like I'd made his day just by existing. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and my lips twitched up despite the situation.

"Have a seat. Food's almost done. I, ah, made you breakfast, but you didn't wake. So, I ate it." He rubbed the back of his neck, a slight blush staining his cheeks.

It looked adorable and out of place on his chiseled features. My heart squeezed, urging me to wrap him in my arms, and I batted the feeling down. I needed to fix this. Now. I couldn't be a dragon's mate.

"Do you drink coffee?" he asked, gesturing to a coffee pot at the end of his little kitchen.

I nodded and helped myself.

With a coffee in my hand and Tyson still busy, I wandered the open-plan apartment. Like his closet, his living space was well organized. Unlike his closet, high-contrast pictures of fire decorated the walls, which coordinated scarily well with grey leather furniture. It felt like I was in a high-end hotel instead of someone's home.

The only exception was a cluttered corner filled with video games. I didn't know gaming at all, but a black and wood square that looked out of the seventies sat at the bottom of a massive tower. The word ‘Atari' was etched above some toggle switches. As my gaze moved up, each console got more sophisticated and modern. A VR headset sat at the top. Next to all of it, a massive TV hung on the wall.

It's not a pile of gold, but that's still a hoard of wealth.

I snorted. Dragons.

My little wander brought me back to the kitchen. I slid onto a chair. A picture on the shiny metal refrigerator drew my attention. An adorable strawberry-blonde woman with a dusting of rose gold scales accenting her eyes kissed Tyson's cheek while he took a selfie.

Who the fuck is this bitch?

No. No. No. You don't care. Be happy he's got a girlfriend; it will make this so much easier.

A plate thunked in front of me, and I pulled my gaze away from the image. The smell of grilled cheese wafted. My stomach growled.I didn't even look at the food delivery dragon before devouring every last bite. It tasted a little different than I remembered grilled cheese tasting, but I was so hungry I didn't care. Tyson put a salad next to me. I managed a thankful nod this time before devouring that as well. With a cheeky smile, I looked at his half-eaten sandwich.

He gestured to his food. "I'd give it to you, but I didn't use vegan cheese in it."

I blinked at him.

"It says on your preference sheet that you're a vegan." He cocked his head to the side. "Are you okay, Betty?"

I narrowed my eyes. Betty? Did I look like a fucking Betty?

Instead of trying to talk, I held out my hand, and he quickly picked up a tablet and handed it to me.

I froze. A tablet. That's it. I might not be able to talk, but I could still write. And even better, if I wrote in Draconic, he would know I was magical, even if I couldn't prove it.

I skipped the black and white sheet he'd left open for me and found a drawing app. Draconic didn't have any English phonetics, but the characters were unique. Using harsh lines and slanted angles, I drew out, ‘Give me your sandwich, bitch.'

Aww, you rhymed it for him.

I forced myself not to grin.

When I turned the tablet around, he studied the writing before raising an eyebrow. "That's very avant-garde."

I sucked in a breath. Fuck. Now, I knew nine dead languages.

Saving my work out of habit, I closed the program and opened up a note-taking app. I started to write out my enchantress status and stopped. He wouldn't believe it. I literally had no way to prove it. In fact, at the moment, I wasn't an enchantress. I was just a random woman named Betty who didn't eat meat.

Fantastic.

Someone must really hate me.

I let out a dramatic sigh before narrowing my eyes at Tyson. He narrowed his eyes right back, a soft smile on his face.

Did he know why I was here? Was he in on it, or just a bystander? There was safety in being ordinary Betty until I figured out what was happening.

"Your eyes are incredible." Tyson reached out and cupped my cheek, tilting my head slightly. "The green smolders. You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."

My skin heated at his touch, and my brain melted along with it. No one should be this handsome. I giggled and batted his hand away. ‘You're full of shit,' is what I tried to say, but what came out was squeak squeak squeak squeak.

Enjoy this. He's super into you!

But why is he?

I took a calming breath and typed into the tablet before handing it back to him.

"My friends call me Jay," Tyson read, his eyes crinkled. "That's an odd nickname for Betty, but anything for you."

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. Taking the tablet back, I erased what I wrote and replaced it with concern about my voice.

Tyson stood and stepped behind me, wrapping my shoulders in his arms. "I don't know. But it won't change us. If it starts hurting or something, we'll call a healer. Otherwise, we'll ask when we emerge as a bonded pair in two days."

He kissed the top of my head, then yelped and jerked back. I shot up into a wide stance with my arms out, ready for anything. But his kitchen still only held the two of us.

Tyson rubbed his lips like they burned. "Feck the water dragons."

I waved my hands, hoping it conveyed confusion.

Tyson pulled me to him and set his palm against the base of my neck. My heart thundered in my chest. Fear and arousal heightened my senses. He tapped my new scar under my ear with this thumb. "The water fecker mate marked you." He growled. "That should be my mark." Fire glowed in his pupils. "I'll get it sorted. You can trust me. You're mine now."

A shiver of need ran down my body, despite, or maybe because of, the possessive violence in his voice. It was an effort to step back, but I did. I wasn't a woman easily controlled. And I wasn't a possession to be owned by either dragon.

"I'll figure out how to fix it," he said, misunderstanding my anger. He nudged me toward the couch. "I'm sorry, I'll explain everything. I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

He placed his hand on my arm, and my earlier anger vanished. My heart fluttered like a goddamned teenager.

I sank into his dark leather couch. Instead of sitting on the other side, he dropped into the middle and pulled my legs over his lap, rubbing my calves. "I'm Tyson, and I'm a fire dragon shifter." I blinked at him, and he narrowed his eyes. "You should know all of this already. They told me you took a class and everything."

I nodded sagely. Betty would have taken that class, but I didn't. So I urged him to continue by batting my eyes and looking expectant.

Tyson sighed. "There are four clans based on the four elements of life. Fire is best." He puffed out his chest. "We are the dominant clan."

I looked at him skeptically.

"You'll see." A shit-eating grin filled his face. "The first Continuar Pelota, you'll be cheering me on from the stadium. I'm our point and the best point we've had in the last fifty years."

I squeak laughed. Was this guy for real?

His eyebrows drew together. "Why are you laughing?"

I started to shrug, but he scowled and retrieved his tablet, shoving it into my hands. I sucked in a breath and eyed him. What would translate best through text: honesty, sarcasm, or a blanket lie to stroke his ego?

My calves protested the lack of attention, but I refused to admit it and pulled them off his lap, crossing them so I could lean toward the shifter.

I mimicked his shit-eating grin. ‘Your ego needs its own apartment.'

Tyson raised his eyebrows in disbelief and blinked at me. I chewed on my lower lip, my stomach churning as I waited for his response.

"Bloody hell," he finally said. "You're fecking calling me out?"

I nodded, wiggling my eyebrows.

His nostrils flared, and he scowled. After taking a few deep breaths, he found my hand and rubbed circles on the back of it. The tension released out of his shoulders, and he managed a weak laugh.

My stupid heart flipped.

What the fuck was I doing?