Alpha Dragon_Bronaz Read online

“Do you need something to drink?” I ask lamely.

  I’m not sure, but I think I hear Varos groan. I frown at him before looking at Kuras again.

  “No.” He waves a hand. “I’m fine actually. I just wasn’t expecting…you know.”

  Everyone is standing around looking at us expectantly.

  “Can we have a minute?” I demand.

  Taran snickers and punches Nyve in the chest before encouraging everyone to mind their own business.

  Austin slides a soothing hand down Kuras’ back. “You’ll be okay?”

  “Yeah.” Kuras smiles up at Austin. Even though it wasn’t meant for me, it still warms my heart. This was the omega who was such a big help to Nosko and Taran. Their stories of his compassion were the topic of many conversations around the shop.

  Austin drifts off, leaving us alone.

  I shift to half sit on my tattoo chair. I cross my arms over my chest. It feels unnatural so I drop my arms almost immediately. “Wow, this is awkward. I wasn’t expecting… this.” I motion between us.

  “Me either.” Kuras combs his fingers through his hair to push it off his forehead. I get an even better look at his green eyes. They’re the color of spring grass.

  I start laughing. “I’m not really sure how to proceed. This has really caught me off guard, which isn’t that easy.”

  “Well, we can start by exchanging phone numbers. I mean, we’re not supposed to get married today, right? We may not be compatible.”

  Exchanging phone numbers. That’s a good start. I dig through my station to pull out a pen, paper and one of my business cards. “You can call the shop if you can’t reach my cell.”

  Kuras takes it along with the paper and pen to write down his. “Since I stay on the move, my cell phone is my office when I’m not at home. Leave a message if I don’t answer. I don’t like to talk on the phone when I’m with a client.”

  I take the paper. “Right. I get it. So…” motioning to Nyve, “will you be taking Austin as a client? Nosko couldn’t stop talking about you.”

  “Sure. I can tell that Austin wants to do what’s best for the baby. Clients who are willing to cooperate are like gold. Nothing is worse than fighting a parent who won’t consider the health and welfare of their baby first.”

  “Makes sense. We have something a little similar here.”

  Kuras looks at me curiously. “Parents are like people who are getting tattoos? That’s a comparison I didn’t expect.”

  “Getting a tattoo is a little like giving birth. It can be painful, the result can be beautiful if you put the time in to care for it and you can’t impose your will on how it turns out. You have to be in tune with how the product wants to happen.”

  “I’m impressed.” Kuras glances around the shop. Slender fingers smooth down the arm of the chair next to my hip. “How long did you work on that?”

  “Just made it up on the fly.” Even this short time together, being with Kuras feels good. Easy.

  Like it was meant to be.

  “Then I’m in double awe of your extemporaneous talents.”

  After a beat of silence, Kuras stands and gathers his bag strap on his shoulder again. “I have an appointment so…I’ll call later?”

  “Sure. I look forward to it.” We stand there in awkward silence again before Kuras gives me one more smile and leaves.

  I sit there a few more minutes before I realize everyone is looking at me. “What?”

  They all have these smiles on their faces and I roll my eyes.

  I don’t need this.

  It’s going to be bad enough that I will be seeing Kuras regularly since he’s going to be Austin’s doula. And since Austin spends a lot of time here at the shop when not at work, at Nyve’s insistence, I don’t see how I will be able to avoid seeing him regularly.

  Already, I feel the pressure I do not need right now.

  Needing some time to think, I head into the back of the shop. “I’m going to straighten the stock room.”

  Taran must have said something to the guys because when I come back out, no one gives me any shit. Besides, they’re busy and have their own business to tend to so I can get through my client’s appointment with no stress.

  We’re talking about ink care when the door to the shop chimes.

  Goldie is standing there, her long Barbie blonde hair in soft curls around her face. She was the last person we expected to see as Annika’s apprentice. Goldie was about as far away from tattoo culture as any of us have ever seen.

  She is a hell of a talented artist, though.

  Her hand lifts in greeting to me.

  “I’m almost done. We’ll grab a coffee down the street?”

  She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “That’s perfect! No rush.”

  After sending my client on her way with her new butterfly tattoo, I grab my jacket and we head down the sidewalk.

  “How are you doing, girl?” I drape my arm around her shoulder.

  Ever since she started working across the street, we see her every day. In the months we’ve known her, we’ve grown close to her and Annika both. All the guys in the shop worry about Goldie’s sister and her whereabouts.

  The stress of Rayne’s disappearance is starting to take a toll on Goldie.

  In a way, I can identify with her where the other guys can’t.

  “Could be better,” she says, leaning into me. “We haven’t heard anything more from the kidnappers. I don’t get it. They grab her and want us to pay a ransom but then we aren’t given any instructions on how much time we have to get the money together. This…not knowing is so hard on all of us. Especially my mom. We’re all worried sick.”

  “I know.” I squeeze her shoulders which sends us off balance and it makes her laugh. That’s a good sign. She’s still holding it together, even though I can start to see the stress cracks.

  Goldie sighs. “It feels so lonely at the house. Not hearing her laugh, or her bad jokes or how she doesn’t know how to pick up her feet when she walks.”

  “I know. You keep expecting her to come through the door with some story about what happened during the day and you get aggravated you’ve been interrupted doing something but listen anyway.” This is a feeling I know too well.

  She looks up at me curiously.

  “I know the pain of losing a sibling. My brother.”

  “Oh, ‘Naz, I’m so sorry.”

  I shrug, more to keep the painful memory pushed away than to brush her sympathy off. I don’t mean to do that but… I can’t think about what happened without it really crashing down on me. “It’s okay. Some days are better than others. But we know she’s out there and still alive. They want something from you, they just haven’t said what yet. That gives us time.”

  We get settled at the table and order our coffees.

  “If they take her alicorn—” Goldie hiccups on the thought, not following it any further.

  I cover her hand with mine to hold her hand in comfort. “They won’t. Whoever these people are, Goldie, their agenda is not to maim us. Right now, they want to rattle us.”

  “They’re doing a great job.”

  “They have some bigger agenda working here. We’ll figure it out and find your sister.”

  “You sound so certain.”

  I’m not sure if it’s that I am certain or if it’s that I don’t want her to lose hope too early. If Rayne’s body hasn’t shown up at the morgue, then there’s hope. “We’ll find her,” I repeat.

  Our coffee comes and Goldie decides to indulge with a cream cheese danish. Those are my weakness and I order one as well.

  Goldie licks the cream cheese off her thumb before tearing her danish apart into small pieces. “I was thinking.”

  “That’s never a good sign.”

  She bumps my elbow playfully when I try to take a bite of my danish. I miss my mouth and the glaze smears across my cheek. “Asshole.”

  “Asshole? I’m the one wearing my danish now.” I wipe at my face with a napkin
. “What were you thinking?”

  “There has to be something we can do.” She looks at me with her large pale blue eyes.

  I laugh. “You don’t have to pull that on me, girl. You know if I can help, I will. Do you have a plan?”

  “I have Rayne’s apartment key. Do you think maybe if we looked, we could find something like a clue?”

  “I don’t think it would hurt. She wasn’t taken from her apartment, right?”

  Goldie shakes her head. “No. But…I don’t know, ‘Naz, I have to do something.”

  “That’s a good start. You know her best so you’ll know if anything is missing or out of order. Don’t dismiss anything, though. Take pictures, too.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think to do that. Great idea.” Her mood lifts a little now that she has something proactive she can do.

  It’s a start.

  Goldie finishes up her danish and leaves a tip before she heads back to work. All this talk about her sister has dredged up some memories that I’m not ready to deal with. Just about the time I think I’ve gotten over Hafaz’s death, all the feelings come rushing back on me.

  Thankfully, my phone buzzing with a text notification drags my attention away from my morbid thoughts. I pull it over and swipe with my pinky. It’s a text from Kuras.

  I’d love to see you. Dinner tonight?

  Dinner invitation.

  A date?

  I don’t know about this.

  Part of me wants to go. This omega has me intrigued. He’s funny, sensitive, compassionate and apparently has a great amount of patience, if Nosko’s description does him justice. Just the few minutes I had with him has awakened something inside me that hungers to know more.

  There’s another part that feels drained from the entire experience. It’s irrational and foolish and just plain damn stupid because we haven’t even gone out yet. We barely know each other. What if it doesn’t work out? What if what we felt wasn’t fate but good old-fashioned lust?

  All the what-ifs roll around in my head until I feel a headache coming on.

  I stuff my phone back in my pocket and walk back to the shop. I’ll think on it and text him later. I can’t deal with this right now.

  3

  Kuras

  Bronaz’ acceptance to dinner finally comes through several hours later. I was beginning to worry he wouldn’t want to meet.

  I’m not sure why, he seemed willing enough to exchange phone numbers earlier. So I chalk it up to being busy and not being able to get back to me quickly.

  It doesn’t matter because he said yes. My dragon wiggles in delight at the prospect of getting to know Bronaz better.

  We agree to a time later in the week, which is a mistake on my part. It gives me way too much time to fret about it.

  I want to cook something special but not too special. Sort of ordinary but not too ordinary. What does he like? Is he allergic to anything? Why didn’t I think to ask this before?

  Panicked preparation has me in a tizzy and I change my mind a half a dozen times before settling on something simple that my dad cooks often. Of course I have to call and get the recipe. My parents suspect something’s up but I push off their questions, saying that I don’t have much time to talk.

  That is so rude. Especially when my father chuckles right before he hangs up. I’ll call and tell him later.

  While dinner simmers on the stove, I spend an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror trying to find the right shirt. And by right shirt, I mean one not stained or wrinkled.

  Clean. I’d settle for clean. Now I regret not doing laundry earlier in the week.

  It isn’t completely my laziness that has put me in this predicament of what to wear. I’ve been slammed full busy the past few weeks and it seems like half my pregnant clients all got together and decided to have their babies at once.

  Things are calmer now as we have moved into the next phase of scheduling for their new set of needs with a baby in the mix.

  I still didn’t do my laundry like I should have.

  I find something appropriate, a deep burgundy button up shirt. It’s not too wrinkled and those can be smoothed out in the steam when I have a shower.

  After stepping in the hot spray to let it beat down on my super tense shoulders, I steady myself with deep, cleansing breaths. If I get too wound up, I will come off acting desperate. That’s not a good thing.

  No one likes someone who is desperate and clingy.

  It shouldn’t matter, though, right? I mean, we’re fated mates. There is no denying it. I felt it when we touched.

  No doubt in my mind at all.

  When the doorbell rings, all the nerves I managed to talk down spring back up again. Every one of them land in my stomach and do somersaults. My dragon croons soothingly in the back of my mind to help keep me from being stupid.

  The door opens and my mouth goes dry to see Bronaz standing there. He’s in a simple white button down dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up to show his tattoos. I half registered that he had tattoos when I first met him but to see them up close now is a little exciting.

  It gives him a bit of a dangerous edge to how he presents himself.

  What he’s really like, well, I guess I’ll find out.

  He smiles when he sees me, his eyes sparkling. “Hey. Hope I’m not late.”

  “No, you’re right on time.” I motion for him to come in. “I’ll just put the dinner rolls on. We’ll have a few minutes to chat before we eat. Can I get you something to drink?”

  He holds up his hands. In one, he has a bottle of wine. White. “I didn’t know which kind to get since you didn’t say what you were cooking.”

  “It’s perfect, actually, since I made my dad’s famous Russian chicken over rice.” I take the bottle from him and our fingers brush. The electric touch jolts me and I gasp softly from how it shoots through my body. If that’s what I have to look forward to every time he touches me, I’m in for a hell of a ride.

  Apparently he feels the same thing and our fingers linger a little longer before he blinks and pulls his hands away. “I also brought beer if the wine didn’t go over well.” He holds up a six pack.

  “That’s perfect, too.” I step back and gesture for him to follow me into the kitchen. “Let’s take this to the fridge to chill while we wait for the rolls. What do you want to drink first? Beer, then wine for dinner?”

  Bronaz follows and puts four of the beer bottles in the refrigerator. “Beer first. Want one?”

  I point to the drawer that holds the bottle opener. “Church key is in there.”

  While he opens our beer, I put the rolls in the oven and check the rice in the cooker. “Seven to nine minutes, then we’ll eat.”

  He pops the cap off both beers and holds one out to me, which I take in the hopes of hiding my nervousness.

  Standing in the kitchen is a little awkward so I head for the living room. He’s close behind and we both settle on the couch. I think it’s a good sign that he’s sitting close to me. That’s a good sign, right? That means he’s not sitting across the room from me.

  I’m getting too worked up. I need to calm down.

  To gather my thoughts, I take a sip of beer. “Did you have trouble getting here?”

  “Not at all. The city maps stay up to date, which is a big help. Nothing’s worse than taking the next turn at the corner only to find it is a dead end alley and no way to turn around. Not that it’s ever happened to me.”

  I see the small quirk of his lips. That’s a good sign, too.

  “It’s the very reason I don’t drive in Stell any more. Trying to second guess the city maps got me in more trouble than it was worth.” I feel a little more relaxed now that he’s actually here and sitting right next to me.

  But there’s just something a little off. Maybe it’s that we don’t know each other. I normally have no trouble talking with new clients and putting them at ease. Why now all of a sudden do I feel like I have a mouth full of cheese or something?


  “So how long have you been a doula?” Bronaz angles on the couch to face me, his arm braced on the cushion back and knee pulled up on the seat cushion between us. It’s a casual gesture and I normally wouldn’t think more about it except I can’t shake the feeling that it isn’t a casual gesture but a calculated one. As if to make sure there is distance between us.

  I’m a little confused but for the moment, I’m still willing to chalk it up to first time meeting nerves. After all, neither of us were expecting to meet our fated mates out of the blue.

  “About twenty five years. After finishing college with a degree in physical therapy, I didn’t find it all that satisfying a career choice. It paid well enough and everything but I didn’t feel like it was what I was supposed to be doing.” I run my fingers through my hair nervously. It’s still a little damp. Now I worry about not having dried it. Do I look too dumb?

  “What made you change your mind? Just boredom?”

  “One of my neighbors, when I lived in an apartment. She went into labor early and had no one to take her to the hospital. So I did and I stayed with her. Months after, she thanked me profusely for being her support in a time she needed someone and I realized there had to be something like it that I could do. Looked into it, researched it and went to night classes to get my certifications. I haven’t looked back since.”

  Bronaz glances at his bottle with a thoughtful look. It’s almost as if he didn’t really hear me and was just nodding politely.

  Was I boring? Did I bore him? My nerves just won’t stay settled!

  “That’s always nice, to finally find what you were meant to do.”

  “What about you?” I prod his knee with my bottle. “Have you always wanted to be a tattoo artist?”

  “Not really.” Bronaz snaps out of whatever thought he was in and looked at me with his amazing eyes and inside-melting smile. Now he is present with me again. “I haven’t really found my passion because I haven’t looked for it. I’m a decent enough artist and it’s fun. I like creating the tattoos on clients and I’m good at that too. My strongest point is being able to handle the walk-ins.”