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ChapterOne
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Agroan escapes as my arm throbs with an aching burn I shouldn’t be feeling while I’m wrapped up safe in my bed.
My eyes flutter as I try to hold on to the dream. This always happens. I can get stuck in a nightmare, and it seems like I’ll never escape, but a good dream? Those are fleeting.
I expect to see someone leaning over me. It feels like I was in the middle of a conversation, but as I blink awake, the contents of the exchange are completely gone. I pull my hand protectively to my chest, sitting up and glaring at the sneaky dragonling currently on the verge of scorching my sheets,again.
Smoke spills from his nose as he huffs in his sleep.
It’s strange to see the dragon in shifted form with race car pajama pants on. They’ve fallen down around his tail, and his legs are nearly bursting at the seams. It’s not unusual for growing shifters to change while they’re asleep.
It’s cute, but I can’t allow it to lessen my anger.
“Veryn,” I hiss.
The small dragon doesn’t move a muscle, but his blue and green scales bristle, like they always do when he’s annoyed. I try again, and his chunky tail flicks, showing his displeasure.
“Yeah, tough luck, you rotten child,” I grumble, trying to determine if this wound is severe enough to require magic to heal it. The skin is red and blistered from Veryn’s warm breath. Even dragonling dragonfire is enough to scorch through to human bone. Luckily, all I got was a few puffs of condensation.
It’s terrifying to consider what could happen to Charity if she made the mistake of falling asleep holding her young. Not all fae have the ability to heal their own wounds, but my magic does.
I’m not a healer, not by a longshot, but it’s one of the few perks of my magic. Unfortunately, I’ve never learned how to overcome the magical backlash that comes when I use too much power all at once.
I twist on the bed until my feet hit the floor and aim for the bathroom, not-so-quietly slamming the door behind me. That little dragon is on my last damn nerve.
He’s lucky he’s adorable.
It must be a protection that evolution builds in to keep young alive. Especially in the supernatural world, where accidents and injuries happen regularly as a youngling learns to master their gifts.
Grabbing the burn cream from the bathroom cabinet, I carefully apply it. For an injury this size, it’s not worth the risk of using my magic. I finish that, use the restroom, wash my hands, and stride out to wake up Veryn. Only, the little guy is already awake.
“Morning, Ali,” he says, giving me a toothy grin. He’s back in human form, leaning his head of black hair against his palm.
“Why are you in my bedroom again, young man?” I ask, stomping over to open the blinds.
“Mom’s still sleeping. I came to see if you were awake, but you weren’t neither,” he says, shrugging a thin shoulder.
“I wasn’t either,” I correct.
“Nope, so I laid down and waited, but you sleeped forever,” he says, huffing an annoyed breath.
“Slept, you goofball.” I chuckle, shaking my head.
Children are adorable.
The dragon has more personality than his small body should be able to hold. His bright cerulean eyes flash to a yellowy green for a second, and he cocks his head to the side, listening to something intently. He’s only five, but he looks more like a seven- or eight-year-old human child.
“Aww, Mom’s awake and she’s mad,” he grumbles, shoving himself off the bed. Scale-covered wings sprout from his back, and he takes flight.
My arm aches as I follow him out of my room, through my living room, and downstairs toward the front door. The setup of the houses in this neighborhood is bizarre. There are four homes in this cluster, all facing the same courtyard. I suppose it’s due to the area being in the middle of our small city. To get to the parking spots, you have to walk down a long sidewalk, and there’s one on either side of each house. They spill out into the parking areas for our cluster and then the road.
Charity owns the house directly across from mine. To the left is Mrs. Segar, and to the right is a cranky shifter named Bane.
I have no clue what type of shifter he is, because his scent is like nothing I’ve ever encountered. When I first moved in, I swore he didn’t exist. To this day, Charity and I have a running joke about it. The man only comes out at night, and even though everyone in Haven knows everyone else’s business, I still have no idea what he does for a living.
Veryn yanks open the door to Charity standing in her slippers and housecoat, poised to knock. Her hair is wild and wavy. She looks like she’s on the verge of panicking, which makes sense.
