With a deep breath, I open my eyes. He has almost reached us—which in and of itself feels like a miracle. The dust is thick around his fucking cowboy boots, and everything about him, from his gait to the way his thumb is looped through a belt loop oozes smug and stern at the same time. Lick my lips, clear my throat, I open my mouth to holler at him.
Chapter 3
Sting
She smells like flowers, salt, earthy sweat, and limes. It’s possible they both do—sisters judging by their looks and stances. But the shorter one, rounder, curvier, most delectable one, with the short umber hair—she’s the one who’s scent sings to me, calls me closer. Too close for comfort.
Slowing my pace as I approach them, I sigh at their stupidity. They must both be idiots to be out under the blazing sun with no water, no sun protection, and dainty flip flops on their feet.
But by the gods, she’s my idiot.
Ah, there it is, a whiff of tequila. If I were a betting male, I’d bet they are lost from Vegas. How? No clue; they’re at least two miles off the highway, and I haven’t heard a vehicle in over an hour. Maybe they’re witches and magicked themselves here. Or maybe they’re on the verge of collapsing from dehydration and heat exhaustion. Only time, and talking to them, will tell.
Adjusting my tail and my hat, I approach them cautiously. I don’t want to scare them.
“Hello! Can you help us?” Mine shouts at me. I shouldn’t have worried about scaring them. I should worry about their lack ofunderstanding of the dangerous and precarious situation they’ve somehow put themselves in.
“Hello. Yes. Are you injured?” I don’t smell blood, but given those shoes, I’d be shocked if one of them doesn’t twist an ankle or obtain a bite from a rattlesnake.
“No. But we are stranded,” mine begins to say.
“And really hot! Is there a bar around?” The other one says. Now that I’m three feet away, I can read the glittery “BRIDE” letters on the taller one’s shirt. Bridal party. I bite my lip, drawing blood, to avoid chastising them.
“Ignore my sister. We need access to a phone to call her fiancé and try to get a ride. Our tour guide left us out here.”
The blood within me boils at this. I want to hunt down thistour guideand show him just how wrong he was to abandon these two women in the desert. And then show him what happens when he hurts my mate. My idiotic mate. The spot on my chest aches, gnawing at me, telling me that without a doubt I’ve found my mate. Soon there will be the faded mark of being mated, a tattoo for the rest of my life.
“I can bring you to my place and you can call from there. Signal doesn’t work out here.”
“What do you mean ‘signal doesn’t work?’” The bride asks, one sunburnt hand on her hip.
“There’s nothing out here but snakes, scorpions, and an occasional coyote. None of them need cellphones.” The bride jumps at the list of animals. My mate doesn’t, but she does look around her feet; maybe she isn’t as idiotic as I first thought. It would be nice to not have to worry about her daily survival.
“Is it far?” My mate asks, shifting from foot to foot, stretching one of her adorable feet. Yes, I would expect her feet to hurt after walking over the hot rocks for miles.
“It is, but I can carry you.”
They look at each other and laugh. I let them. It’s fine. “Or you can walk. Five more miles that way.” I raise an arm and point into the wilderness. There’s a rise, and then a dark shadow that is the façade of my ranch.
“We don’t mean to be rude,” my mate says, pinning me with her electric blue eyes. I’ve kept my hat low over my brow, but her gaze still pierces me. “Maybe you could carry my sister Lily, but there’s no way you can carry both of us.” She gestures between her and her sister.
I let my tail free, long, armored, curling. With an arch of my shoulders, I let free my other legs. “You’ll both fit. Trust me.”
Lily squeaks, as to be expected. Her response doesn’t bother me. I’d happily leave her here to fend for herself if I didn’t think that would upset my mate.
My mate, who doesn’t scream or shirk away, but rather squints, studying me. I love the feel of her eyes on me, from head to tail, inspecting me. She walks slowly around me, taking in all of me. Not a splash of fear in her scent.
“I don’t know how we didn’t notice. You’re remarkable.” The words on her tongue are delicious. I could explain how I hide in plain sight. But I’m too busy soaking in her praise. It’s glorious.
I’ve prided myself on living alone. Staying away from people—whether human or monster. Not needing to depend on anyone. But this damned mate mark pulses with delight at everything she does. Hell, I don’t even know her name! Yet my bodyreacts to every minute movement of hers as if we’re magnets conducting a dance, this way and that. She is my North Pole, dragging me toward her with every heartbeat.
“How will this work?” she asks. I stretch and drop onto my extra legs.
“Like this,” I say. I can sense the flutter of excitement in her when I say the words. She nods and steps closer.
Her hand on my hip is fire. Magic. Destiny. Everything I need and nothing I knew I wanted. It takes great restraint to control myself. To not put my hand over hers, drag it along my body, pull her into me and kiss her. Her lips are bright red—probably dehydration and sunburn—yet they call to me like nectar to a hungry bee.
“You sure about this? My sister is a big girl,” the bride says with a false cheeriness.
