It’s hard to believe I’m even functioning. Without the man trailing behind me into my apartment right now, I’d have been left for dead. He’s a shifter—a dragon shifter. If I hadn’t already known that fact, the man made it abundantly clear today.
Blair Beckett, the powerful second in command, to Blake, the alpha, insisted on bringing me home. To make sure I was safe. What happened today made me feel anything but that, as my reality ripped to shreds in the blink of an eye.
His soothing words—with a dash of good girl mixed in—his touch, in the midst of the chaos was like an anchor to hang onto, instead of the despair that threatened to swallow me whole.
My place feels too cramped to accommodate Blair. He’s larger than life, his muscled physique a comforting presence, worry creasing his eyes while he tends to me. My kitchen is a mess, my dirty clothes in an unkempt pile in the middle of the floor. And I want to explain that I have two jobs encompassing the entirety of my time. A nurse by day, then I sing at night. What can I say? The two versions of me need an outlet. Most days, cleaning my apartment just doesn’t make the cut.
But I don’t have time for any explanation. Understanding flickers in the depths of those stunning eyes of his, like he knows something I don’t. And he must, because the feeling quivering through me is so foreign, so unnatural that I want to jump out of my own skin.
His lips barely brush mine, and somehow it’s enough to stop the force barreling through me. “Come with me,” he commands. “You only have a few minutes.”
I must look as shocked as I feel when the sensation seizes me again. From somewhere deep inside, I fight it. But Blair tosses me over his shoulder and we quickly plod outside.
Then for the second time today, my world shatters.
Copyright © 2025 Bree Westland
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