Page 4 of Hex and Scales

The force of it nearly knocked him from his perch. His eyes flashed molten gold, dragon instincts surging through his veins for the first time in eight hundred years. The very air crackled with ancient magic, tasting of hope and longing and something that made his chest ache.

“Impossible.” His voice came out rough, unused to speaking at this hour when he typically spent his mornings in solitary contemplation. “My mate died in my arms centuries ago.”

The words summoned memories he’d fought centuries to suppress. Shiara’s face, ethereally beautiful even in death. The way her fingers had grown cold in his grasp. The moment her heart stopped beating, taking his own capacity for love with it.

He’d made a vow that day, kneeling in her blood.Never again. You are my only mate, my only love. I will never give myheart to another.Eight hundred years of isolation had proven his dedication to that promise. Even his dragon had retreated into mournful silence, sharing his unshakeable grief.

Until now.

But his dragon disagreed with his dismissal, clawing at his ribcage with unprecedented urgency.She calls. She needs us.

Ren pressed his palms against his temples, trying to silence the beast’s insistence. A headache built behind his eyes as the dragon fought his control. This had to be a mistake. Some cosmic error. His mate lay centuries dead, and he’d buried his heart in her grave.

The sun climbed higher, gilding the mountain peaks. In the growing light, he could make out subtle disturbances in Mystic Hollow’s magical aura—distortions he’d been tracking for weeks.

The protective wards he maintained around the town had been showing signs of strain—microscopic cracks no one else could detect. Just yesterday, he’d found traces of shadow magic near the town’s eastern border. Old magic, the kind that spoke of carefully planned malevolence.

No one else seemed to notice. But his dragon senses, honed over a millennium, caught every ripple in the town’s mystical fabric. Something methodical and malicious probed at Mystic Hollow’s defenses, testing for weaknesses.

He’d been planning to investigate even before this morning’s impossible mate call. As the town’s founder and protector, he had a duty to his people. A much safer topic than this inexplicable disruption of his carefully maintained solitude.

His dragon snorted at the pretense.You know why we must go. The fountain’s magic calls to our very essence.

“The fountain means nothing.” But power still rippled through the air, remnants of a wish so heartfelt, it had somehow pierced his centuries-old emotional walls.

He dressed with precise movements, choosing dark jeans and a black Henley that wouldn’t restrict movement if trouble arose. The clothes suited his human form while allowing quick transformation if needed. And he had a feeling he’d need his dragon’s power before this investigation ended.

Last week’s incident at the Crystal Caverns still troubled him. The caves’ natural amplification crystals had shifted alignment overnight—a change that should have been impossible without significant magical interference. He’d sensed lingering traces of foreign power like oil slicking over water. When he’d tried to track the source, the trail had vanished as if it had never existed.

The pattern suggested someone—or something—testing Mystic Hollow’s magical infrastructure. Preparing for... what?

Sunlight strengthened as he strode into town, ignoring the startled glances from early risers. He rarely descended from his mountain unless serious trouble threatened his sanctuary. Let them assume his presence meant danger—better than admitting he’d been summoned by some impossible mate call.

The residual magic grew stronger as he approached the town center. It prickled along his skin, raising gooseflesh on his arms. His dragon stirred restlessly.

She’s near.

A shop sign caught his eye: Katz ‘n Things. Given the recent pattern of disturbances, checking local businesses made sense. Magic-infused objects could serve as fault lines, spreading instability through the town’s protective network. He reached for the door.

The moment he stepped inside, his world tilted on its axis.

Her scent hit him first—honey and sunshine and something wild that made his dragon purr. Then he saw her: honey-blonde waves tumbling past graceful shoulders, curves that made his hands itch to touch, hazel eyes that widened when they met his.His breath caught at the delicate arch of her cheekbones, the soft curve of her lips.

For one insane moment, those features seemed to blur with older memories. But no—this woman was entirely her own person. A tigress, his senses noted, picking up the distinctive energy signature of a feline shifter. The realization should have repelled him. Dragons and tigers rarely mixed.

His vow to Shiara echoed in his mind:Never again. No other woman. No other mate.Eight centuries of dedication to that promise couldn’t be undone by one beautiful shopkeeper, no matter how his body reacted to her presence.

Pure masculine appreciation rolled through him, defying his rational mind. She moved with fluid grace as she approached the counter, and his enhanced vision caught the subtle flex of lean muscle beneath her skin. A fighter’s build, refined and deadly. Beautiful.

His dragon roared in triumph.Mate!

“No,” he breathed, even as his body hummed with awareness of her. He forced ice into his voice and introduced himself with mechanical politeness. Claimed he was investigating disturbances. All while drinking in every micro-expression that crossed her face, memorizing details he had no business noticing.

When she spoke, her voice slid over his senses like warm honey: “Welcome to Katz ‘n Things.” A slight tremor in the words betrayed her own reaction to him. His nostrils flared, catching the sweet spice of her attraction. “I wasn’t aware of any disturbances.”

“They’ve been subtle so far.” His dragon urged him closer. He stayed rooted in place, maintaining a safe distance. “But significant enough to warrant investigation.”

Her pulse jumped at her throat—he could see it flutter beneath her skin. Could taste her responding interest in the airbetween them. Every predatory instinct he possessed focused on that telling reaction, even as he fought to ignore it.

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