Page 42 of Hex and Scales

What was he not telling her?

THIRTY-SIX

Dawn painted the sky in soft watercolors as Sabine knelt in her garden behind her cottage, morning dew seeping through her favorite jeans. She focused on the small potted succulent before her, determined to control her growing powers.

“Just a tiny enhancement,” she murmured, extending her hand. “No ice this time.”

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. A text from Ren:Good morning. Be careful with practice today. I sensed your magic from the mountain.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she typed back:Trying to. Currently staring down a succulent, hoping it doesn’t join my impromptu ice garden.

His response came quickly:I like knowing when you’re using magic. It feels warm.

Sabine pressed the phone to her chest, unable to contain her smile. Ever since their first kiss, he’d grown more open with his feelings, sending sweet messages and finding excuses to touch her. Last night, he’d held her hand through dinner at Witch’s Brew, his thumb stroking absent patterns on her skin while they talked with friends.

Her birthmark tingled at the memory of his touch. The magical connection between them had strengthened too, creating unexpected effects. She set her phone aside and focused on the remaining unfrozen succulent.

“Okay, let’s try this one more time.” She extended her hand, channeling energy with careful precision. “Just a tiny enhancement. No ice. You’re a desert plant, for cat’s sake.”

The succulent’s leaves began to glow with a gentle inner light. For a moment, everything worked perfectly—until her thoughts drifted to Ren’s good-bye kiss from that morning. Frost immediately raced across the surface, transforming it into another glittering ice sculpture.

“Oh, come on!” She flopped backward onto the grass, laughing despite her frustration. “I give up. You can all just be the world’s most impractical garden.”

The wind chimes on her back porch tinkled in response, their usual melodic sound suddenly jarring and wrong. Cold air swept through the garden, carrying an unnatural chill that made her skin prickle. The crystalline formations on her succulents dimmed, their magical glow fading as shadows gathered at the edges of the yard.

Sabine pushed to her feet, her tigress rising with a warning growl. Something dark seeped between her carefully tended herbs like ink spreading through water. Her phone buzzed again—probably Ren sensing her alarm—but she didn’t dare take her eyes off the writhing shadows.

“Your magic has evolved beautifully.” Linus’s voice drifted from the darkness, seconds before he stepped into view. His usual polished appearance felt wrong in the soft morning light, like a predator trying to pass as prey. “Though I must say, ice is an unexpected development.”

Gone was his carefully maintained charm, replaced by something ancient and cold that made her want to shift andrun. His eyes fixed on her with an intensity that triggered every defensive instinct she possessed. The birthmark above her belly button began to throb, a steady pulse of warning.

“I’ll be at the shop in a couple hours.” Sabine kept her voice steady despite her racing heart. “Whatever business you have can wait until then.”

“But we have so much to discuss.” Linus moved closer, shadows writhing at his feet like living things. “About the past, and mates, and...” His smile turned cruel. “Dragons who fail to protect what’s theirs.”

Heat exploded through the garden as Ren landed between them, his presence pushing back the unnatural shadows. Steam rose from his broad shoulders, and scales rippled beneath his skin as he shifted back into human form. He’d clearly come straight from his mountain home—his dark hair was windswept, and he wore only a black T-shirt and jeans. The casual outfit did nothing to diminish the raw power radiating from him.

“Leave.” The single word carried centuries of barely contained fury.

Linus laughed, the sound devoid of warmth. “Still playing the noble protector, Ren? You know how well that worked out last time.” His gaze slid to Sabine with horrible hunger. “History has such an interesting way of repeating itself.”

The shadows around Linus writhed and twisted, folding in on themselves until he vanished completely. One moment he stood there radiating malice, the next—nothing. Even his magical signature disappeared, leaving no trace to track.

Ren spun toward Sabine, fury melting into concern. “Are you hurt?” His hands were impossibly gentle as they cupped her face, belying the rage still evident in his expression.

“I’m okay.” She leaned into his touch, drawing comfort from his warmth. “Just rattled. He’s never been so...” She shuddered.“There was something different about him today. Darker. Extra creepy.”

“He’s growing bolder.” Ren pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. She pressed her face against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. His lips brushed her temple. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“You can’t be with me every second.” Though right now, wrapped in his embrace with their magic swirling together in crystalline patterns around them, that didn’t sound like such a terrible idea.

“Watch me try,” he growled, the sound rumbling through his chest.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Despite the lingering fear from Linus’s appearance, Sabine found herself smiling. She tilted her head back to meet Ren’s gaze. “My overprotective dragon.”

His eyes softened as he looked down at her. One hand slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head as he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was achingly tender, a reminder that she was safe, cherished, protected. When they parted, Sabine felt steadier.

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