Page 26 of Knotted by the Mountain Man Dragon

Beck leans back in his chair and watches like someone settling in for a show.

Silas lifts one elegant eyebrow.

“I’m Mara,” I say, because someone needs to use words. “Just passing through.”

“Nice to meet you, Mara. I’m…”

“Leaving,” Cage says.

One word. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t posture or puff up or make any of the typical alpha-display behaviors I’ve read about. He just says the word and it lands in the middle of the conversation like a boulder dropped from a great height.

The man looks at Cage. Really looks at him. Six-five, two-sixty, jaw clenched, eyes shifting gold, now standing close enough to me that our shoulders are touching, radiating heat like a blast furnace.

“Right,” the man says. “Enjoy your coffee.” He takes his drink and leaves.

I look up at Cage.

“Was that necessary?”

“Yes.”

“He was being friendly.”

“He was looking at you.”

“People are allowed to look at me, Cage.”

“They can look.” His jaw flexes. “From a distance.”

“What distance?”

“What’s the driving range of an average sedan?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. The sound bursts out of me, bright and startled, and Cage looks at me with an expression that’s half possessive fury and half something softer, something almost dazed, like my laugh is a sound he wants to wrap around himself and never take off.

Beck grins.

Silas inspects his coffee.

And I stand in a coffee shop in a town I’d never heard of yesterday, beside a dragon that just had a wisp of smoke trailing out of his nostrils, and think: I am in so much trouble.

Back at his place, the trouble gets worse.

Or better. Depending on your definition.

He barely gets the front door closed before his hands are on me.

“Cage…”

“I didn’t like him looking at you.” He walks me backward through the living room. My back hits the wall by the stairs. His hands bracket my head, his body pinning me without pressing too hard, and his face is close enough that I can see the gold bleeding through his irises. “I know that makes me unreasonable. I don’t care.”

“You’re extremely unreasonable.”

“Yes.” He dips his head. His nose drags along the curve of my neck, inhaling, and I feel his chest vibrate with a sound that’s more dragon than human. “You still smell like that coffee shop. Like other people. I don’t like it.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

He pulls back and looks at me. His eyes are fully gold. His expression is calm and certain and absolutely devastating.