Chapter One

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Warrick Hart observed the frame for the cheval mirror he had just finished working on, then looked over his shoulder to ensure he was alone. Of course he was all by himself in his own workshop, but the fear of discovery he’d lived with early in his life and the need to continually hide his nature remained deep inside him even after more than fifteen years of living free in Nocturne Falls. Some habits were impossible to break.

He quickly shifted into his partial-dragon form, which meant he looked like a man-sized man-dragon instead of a very large full-sized dragon. He took a deep breath, made an O shape with his lips, concentrated his efforts on a medium heat and blew a small, steady breath, blazing fire all around the delicate frame of the future mirror. The method was a unique way to highlight the texture of the wood that ordinary torching couldn’t do. His fiery dragon’s breath added several diverse layers of heated depth to the grain, instead of burnt wood or not burnt wood. He called the process dragon kissed, and had taken the name for his business, Dragon Kissed Furniture, in the mercantile building he owned with his mother and brother.

Flame from his breath made the texture of the woodgrain something truly special. If he’d gone into his full dragon form, one quick breath would have torched the whole wooden cheval mirror into a cinder along with half his workshop. That would have been after his head crushed the ceiling tiles to dust. The barest movement from his large dragon body would be very constricting in the workshop. It wouldn’t take much to reduce absolutely everything inside into tiny pebble-sized pieces. So he took care to only shift to his smaller form while in this workshop.

When he was at his home or at his mother’s place, he could shift into full dragon form and walk from room to room without worrying he’d brain himself on the ceiling or destroy the contents of all the rooms.

His mother’s place was constructed that way especially because of him. His mother loved him and his brother Viktor—just a few months his junior, so enough of an age that they always joked they were non-identical twins, him being half-dragon, Viktor half-vampire—with a fearsome power no one matched. She made the home where he’d spent his later childhood in Nocturne Falls dragon-ready, as she called it with a smile.

Even though he was only half-dragon, his full form was as large as purebred dragon shifters, but the brand on his left inner elbow told the truth about his status as a crossbred shifter. While no one in Nocturne Falls had disparaged him, the same couldn’t be said about what he’d experienced as a much younger creature, growing up abroad. There had been plenty of intolerance because he was less than a full dragon shifter, not only in his birthplace near the Romanian, border, a secret mystical metropolis called Arzadia that few mortals knew even existed, but in any of the places they’d lived overseas before moving to Georgia and this perfect town for supernaturals.

Until Nocturne Falls, he’d been called crossbred regularly before he even understood the meaning of the word or that it was meant as a put-down.

Warrick had been five the first time his mother heard the taunts the other children hurled at him. “Crossbred, crossbred, might as well be dead-dead” was a favorite, that and other less poetic versions.

“Don’t listen to them, Warrick. They are just jealous because you are exceptional. I’ll turn them all into large toads later. For now, don’t ever let them make you feel lesser. You aren’t lesser because you are half-dragon. You are unique and perfect just the way you are.”

His mother meant well, but from an early age it was clear he wouldn’t live his life as other dragon shifters did. At least not in a part of the world where superstition ruled too many folks, both rural and urban.

The few dragon shifters in that particular town made it clear Warrick wasn’t one of them, wasn’t ever going to be one of them, and would never be accepted as one of their kind, thanks to what they considered tainted human blood flowing through his veins.

To their point, humans had been dragonkind’s largest threat through the ages. Even though Warrick was no threat, the dragon shifters were unconvinced and unwilling to take the chance he wouldn’t betray them.

Soon after that incident with the taunting children in the public square, his mother had moved them to three more short-lived residences in towns that didn’t end up tolerating crossbred supernatural children any more than the previous ones had.

Once it was discovered the members of their little family were not purebred, the taunts started, followed by the ever-increasing threats to the family until they were forced to move on, often fleeing in the middle of the night. Once, his mother and brother even rode on his back clutching their meager belongings. Their weight was as nothing to him in his full dragon form, but the weight of what it meant stayed with him—he was forced to carry them to safety because of what he was.

At one point, Vilma settled them in a remote mountain area with no other homes within sight. They were content for a few years before one of the townsfolk making a food delivery discovered what they were. He noticed the symbol on Viktor’s arm when his shirtsleeve fell away, marking him as crossbred. The man dropped all his goods and fled their home screaming about running for his life from blood-sucking monsters ready to kill them all while they slept.

His mother decided not to wait for the rest of the fanciful torch-wielding townsfolk to arrive at their front door. She immediately searched for a new home for them, but that didn’t last long either. Too soon, a dangerous threat to his younger brother forced them all to seek haven on another continent altogether, but it turned out to be the best move they could have made.

Vilma Hart joked with her boys that she’d run out of places on the unforgiving continent and was moving them, again, to a better place. Warrick and Viktor had been dubious that they’d ever find a place to fit in. But at age eleven, they’d been pleasantly surprised with the success of their move to America, specifically, Nocturne Falls, Georgia.

Nocturne Falls had been a welcome reprieve from the many, many places they’d lived only to be run out of town.

At first, Warrick had just been grateful to live in a place with lots of people he didn’t always have to keep secrets from. First, that he was a dragon shifter, and second, that he wasn’t a full-blooded dragon shifter. A crossbred. That didn’t matter here. Then he came to know the people of this sanctuary town nestled in the woods of Georgia. For the first time in his life, he felt welcome. He and Viktor attended school in Nocturne Falls, and graduated from the local high school, Harmswood Academy. They’d both been accepted without question, as if being half-supernatural wasn’t any problem at all. It had been a welcome relief.

Nocturne Falls was the only place he felt like he truly belonged. He was grateful to his mother for all she’d done. He tried to be patient when she mentioned her longing for grandchildren. In fact, she’d stopped by his shop early this morning rather unexpectedly to get what she called a needed hug from her kid.

It wasn’t the first time she dropped by to do the exact same thing. She grabbed his hands and whispered something under her breath. Probably a fervent wish he marry and give her grandchildren, which was what she wanted more than anything. She had sworn she’d never put him or Viktor under a spell, and saying a few words to the world at large didn’t count as long as no magic was attached. He hugged her and sent her on her way so he could finish this cheval mirror project on time.

Warrick shifted back to his human form and stepped forward to look closely at the detail of the fire-treated furniture he’d created with his own two hands, and his very own dragon breath. He loved working with wood, loved shaping formless logs into useful things.

In the pamphlet he’d created for Dragon Kissed Furniture, he told folks he flamed the wood to get the special effect on the finish. No one needed to know that it really was kissed with dragon-breathed flames, his flaming breath. Well, the human clientele, anyway.

Warrick studied the wood from all angles, ensuring he’d flamed it evenly. The special order looked perfectly torched and ready for the next step.

He was ensconced in his workshop behind the showroom, as usual. He had a system set up where if anyone came inside the outer room, a light came on to let him know a customer waited. As if conjured by his glance, the cobalt-blue antique bulb lit up. Sometimes he also heard the muffled tinkle of the bell attached to the door, but not today. Perhaps he’d been too lost in thought to pay attention to stray sounds.

With one last look at the beautiful cheval mirror frame recently dragon kissed, Warrick turned and exited his workshop, stepping out behind the counter in his showroom.

He closed the door to his workshop behind him, and without even looking at who had come in, said, “Hello, welcome to Dragon Kissed Furniture. I’m Warrick. How can I help you?”

When no one spoke, Warrick lifted his gaze and saw the most stunning woman he’d ever laid eyes on. It was a good thing he had welcomed her to the shop and said his name before looking at her, because right now he didn’t know if he could speak or remember his name.

The beautiful woman stared back at him just as intently. She had opened her mouth to say something, but seemed stunned as she stared into his eyes with seemingly keen interest. She had long, ice-blond hair, big blue eyes and was taller than the average woman. She wouldn’t look like a petite fairy standing beside him. Warrick thought she was perfect in every way.

They stared at each other for several seconds before she stuttered, “I, well, the thing is… I…”

Warrick moved closer. When he was half a step away, still staring into her beautiful blue eyes, he asked, “What is your name?”

“Bianca. Bianca Forrester.” She whispered it. Bianca Forrester. Beautiful. Perfect. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Was he under a spell? If so, he liked it.

“I am Warrick Hart. I’m the owner here.” Sure, it was a shade boastful on his part, but he wanted to ensure she knew he was in charge and not some lowly clerk. He also wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. He’d never been so impacted by a woman before. But he liked it. He liked her. He wanted her. Did she want a kiss?

Bianca smiled and her whole face lit up. She was even lovelier when she was happy.

“Warrick,” she said slowly, as if testing his name on her lips and liking the flavor of the word. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”

The moment she said his name, it felt like bells boomed loud peals of joy in his head. He wanted to take her and show her everything he loved. He wanted to introduce her to his brother and his mother and then everyone else he knew in town.

She extended her hand and he took it, grateful he could finally touch her. There hadn’t been a visible spark, but something exciting and electric ran up his arm the moment their palms met. He squeezed her hand gently, automatically shaking it up and down, unsure if he could let her go when the simple handshake was done.

She seemed to have the same problem. Bianca released his hand with obvious reluctance, and he was forced to pull his arm back. But he didn’t want to. Instead, he wanted to run away with her, hands tightly interlaced, and explore the world as they built their perfect realm together and then lived happily ever after.

They hadn’t even kissed and he already had the next several decades of their lives planned out. Warrick was afraid that once he kissed her he’d never be able to let her go. And then a vile thought occurred.

What if she wasn’t available? What if she was—horrors—married already?

“I need to know,” he said in an urgent tone. “Are you married or otherwise attached to anyone else?”

Her eyes narrowed in surprise or possibly puzzlement. “No. I’m not. Why—”

She barely got those few words out when he asked, “Would you like to go out with me tonight and—”

“Yes!”

“—get a drink or something to eat?”

“Yes,” she said again, her tone so soft, so sweet, he was certain the kiss he craved was a breath away.

He was grateful when she leaned up and pressed her lips to his in what he suspected she intended to be a quick kiss, but he couldn’t let it be so fast. Their connection broke for only a moment. Before she moved away and out of his reach, Warrick kissed her again, passionately. She didn’t stop him. In fact, she leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and participated with excessive energy. He liked that, too. There wasn’t anything he didn’t love about Bianca Forrester.

Warrick was lost in a sea of sensation when their lips barely touched, so the deeper, more engaging kiss took his breath away. She smelled like springtime flowers. She tasted like cotton candy, melting in his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her perfect shape, pulling her close as their first kiss progressed into a dynamic expression of love.

Bianca fit against him perfectly and he wanted her to be at his side for the rest of his life.