Page 8 of Devoted to the Dragon

He lifts his head in acknowledgment, bellowing orders to the new recruits to follow him.

I turn to the Council messenger in greeting. “Welcome. Let’s discuss Council affairs in my office over coffee. Can I have the housekeeper bring up breakfast?”

The older alpha’s shoulders relax. “With a bourbon. It was a long night.”

“Absolutely.” I urge the man toward the entrance of the main buildings, my wolf prowling close to the surface as I puzzle over the Council’s plans.

Chapter 4

Gunnar

Ilook at the snoring buffoon they’ve got me roomed with and finish zipping up his bags. He’s got nothing more interesting than a joint, but at least I know he’s harmless. Slipping out of the room, I spiral down the stairs of the four floors that make up the guard wing of the estate.

This fucking place is massive. I’m talking about a fairytale castle like in the books I used to read to my sister, Izzy, when we were little. This place has enough books and old stuff hanging on the walls to be a museum. I never imagined what it would look like if I ever rigged my way here, but whatever I could have thought of wouldn’t have been this.

The lead trainer, Brooks, gave us a no-fuss tour when he walked us to security to get outfitted. After that, he left us with the housekeeper to get settled. We’re supposed to be sleeping before our first training shift.

Like that shit is happening.The first rule of not dying in a new place is to know the exits. Rule number two? Find the kitchen.

I wanted this gig. Hell, I traded a councilman for the opportunity after he found himself in a tight spot after a bad bet on a fight. That doesn’t mean shit here won’t be full tilt either,especially for someone like me. Have they ever even trained a wolf who can’t fully shift? It never came up with the councilman.

The staircase ends at a hallway that leads to a series of staff common areas. In the dining hall, the regular guard members are finishing up breakfast. A few wave, but no one pays much attention. I stuff some fresh fruit in my bag andweave behind the buffet line. As I duck into the bustling stone kitchen, a human female carrying loaves of bread almost sideswipes me.

I hardly step out of her way, too busy gawking at the space. This is some serious time-travel shit. Herbs hang from the rafters along with copper pots and pans. There’s a huge stone fireplace I could walk in, and the entire room smells of flowers, sugar, and bacon. It’s an oddly satisfying combination. It’s also trippy. I swear it’s like knights and dragons should be dueling on the lawn.

That’s when the reality of the situation hits me. I mean, like, I knew. But I didn’t know. You know?

She’s a fucking dragon, and this is her home. Of course the shit is old. She’s gotta be… I can’t even count that high.

An older grizzled wolf flaps a towel in my face. “If you enter my kitchen, it’s to work.”

I blink at him, trying for innocently confused. “I’m a new guard member. I got a little lost. Can you?—”

“Put you to work? Yes. That’ll teach you to snoop around when you should be getting shut-eye.”The burly wolf pushes me with a firm hand toward a sink and possibly the world’s entire supply of potatoes. “Clean and peel. See me when you’re done.”

I weigh my options but decide the staff of this place will probably be better allies than the recruits. After all, my goal is to get a permanent gig. The other recruits are a bunch of pack alphas’ sons, used to rigged fights and doing what daddy says. They don’t have anything to prove to these people. But I do.

It takes two hours of peeling potatoes and the addition of chopping celery to earn me the nod of approval. The older wolf waves me over to his station, where he’s prepping chickens to roast.

“What’s your name?” he asks, voice booming like thunder.

“Gunnar.”

“I’m Henry, the lead chef.” He doesn’t stop his task; his motions are practiced as he prepares to cook enough for a whole damn village. “Why are you here, Gunnar? What pack do you represent?”

I look around the busy kitchen. While I worked, I noticed it’s full of just as many humans as wolves. And a lot of them are younger females, which is a total mindfuck. It’s been a decade since I’ve seen so many women.

Nobody pulled rank. The wolves didn’t fight. It’s weird, but also kinda nice? Like ‘I could get used to this fairytale living’ kinda nice.

I shrug at Henry, unsure what he wants me to say. “Same as any wolf. Trying to make my way. I entered the tournament, and Councilman Lars petitioned for me when I won.”

The old wolf cuts his eyes at me. “Then you’re from the Outskirts.” It isn’t a question, and the word Outskirts is said in a way that lets me know he’s been there.

I nod anyway. “Yes, sir. The hollow of the Western Ridge Pack first before we were sent to the Outskirts of the North Pass.”

He harrumphs. “Underground fights? The ones against ferals?”

Again, they aren’t questions. Nobody coming out of the Outskirts is doing so without fighting.

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