She and Hers

2 - A Dragon and a Wolf

Cort

Dragons don't like to give up their hoard. We don't like to share, either. Dragon mothers have one hatchling at a time and wait a decade or more between them. It's safer for everyone that way.

It's alright that I share my wife with Holden and vice versa because they're both mine, damnit. It's just as pleasurable to share a pint with my boy as it is to sip champagne with my wife. I would even go so far as to say I'm lucky.

Or I would have said that two months, three weeks, and four days ago.

Until that damn wolf came to spy on our coven. Asshole. Strolling up to New York with his alpha-daughter in tow, acting like we're all too stupid to catch on. Pretending to be a janitor, cleaning toilets all day, damnit. I was ready to burn him to ash, then... that fucking day...

It was dark and raining. The interior of the car was cold because my internal fire was so damn hot that I couldn't stand the heat despite the cold January day. My breath was fogging up the glass, but I didn't wipe it away. I wanted to catch him unaware. A silver knife lay in my palms. I was ready. One quick punch and he would bleed out, coughing up blood as his lung filled and his body refused to heal around the silver.

Then, as he approached the car, one of the prostitutes that was hanging around the corner near his apartment building slipped and fell on the ice. She was wearing those fuck-me hooker boots with mile-high heels that on my wife look like walking sin, but that nameless whore lacked the grace my wife has. The wolf stopped and helped her up. Took off his rain jacket and slid it over her shoulders. Gave her all of the cash in his wallet. Then he left her there and went inside. Didn't even cash in a blowjob.

Motherfucker. No one else was out on the streets in that weather. The prostitute fucking cried tears of gratitude. Sam's a saint. Everything I can dig up on him shows me a sensitive, humble do-gooder who isn't afraid of risking himself and getting his hands dirty to do what's right. And, the icing on the cake... he's gorgeous. As tall as I am, with thicker muscles. Tattoos crawling over his biceps. Bright blue eyes that go dark under long dark eyelashes.

Jealousy is a sick thing.

My beautiful, powerful wife doesn't understand. Sam is the very definition of a good guy, but he's an alpha-male. I'm a fucking Draek. I'm a dominant. The dom. Chiara needs me to get under her skin and soothe the wild magic in her blood, and Holden needs an anchor, and that is me. They need me, but they won't have any use for me anymore if Sam enters the equation.

Scowling, I glare at my computer screen that is logged into the security cameras in my wife's lobby, absolutely incensed as Sam gently helps Holden dump the drenched keyboard into the trash without spilling any more water onto the desk. My back teeth grind when I see Holden offer another man that cute, sexy smirk of his.

I get even more enraged when Sam helps Holden as my man slips on the water on the floor (on purpose, my little slut) and catches him. Cool. Another fall. Another save. Good job, Sam.

Then, Sam smiles. A crack spreads across my monitor screen as it sizzles and smokes. Swearing under my breath, I stand up and angrily unplug it before taking it into my supply closet adjacent to my office and exchanging it for a new one. It's the third I've broken this month.

I'm jealous of Holden and Chiara's fascination with Sam. It makes sense. They are mine. Literally, figuratively, financially, sexually, legally, morally, mine. Dragons hoard their gold.

And in the last three weeks, I've become jealous of Sam, too.

I'm fucked. Sam is a gods-damn treasure. What the fuck am I supposed to do when Chiara and Holden realize that Sam will never want a Draek with blood on his hands and a foul taint to his soul?