Page 13 of His Brazen Mate

Careful not to wake her, Drake shifted slightly, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. The bond between them pulsed with shared emotions, a heady mix of excitement, trepidation, and undeniable connection. He tightened his hold on her, savoring the sense of rightness that came with having her so close.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Megan stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of sleepiness and wariness.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

She blinked, taking a moment to orient herself. “Morning,” she replied, her voice husky from sleep. “So, it wasn’t a dream.”

“No,” Drake said, a smug smile playing on his lips. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Megan sighed; a hint of resignation mingled with acceptance. “Well, I suppose we have a busy day ahead.”

Drake nodded, reluctantly releasing her as they both sat up. “We do. We have a private jet, and it should be ready to go shortly. I have a meeting scheduled with one of the larger-batch distilleries near Anchorage.”

Megan stretched, a playful glint in her eye. “You know, as dragon shifters, we could have flown ourselves. It would have been far more environmentally responsible.”

Drake chuckled, shaking his head. “True, but it’s harder to discuss business strategies while navigating air currents.”

She grinned, the tension from the previous night easing into a more comfortable banter. “Excuses, excuses.”

After a quick breakfast, they made their way to the airstrip, where the sleek Northern Lights private plane awaited them. The flight was smooth and uneventful, the Alaskan landscape unfolding beneath them in a breathtaking panorama of snow-capped peaks and endless forests.

Upon landing, they were greeted by the head distiller, a burly man named Gregor. He led them on a tour of the facility, his enthusiasm for his craft and the bourbon he produced evident in every word. Drake listened intently, noting the changes in production techniques and market demands.

During this tour they overheard a heated argument. The distillery owner, a grizzled man with a stern expression, was in a tense confrontation with Michael O’Brien, a figure Drake recognized from his investigations and from the annual tasting event.

“How did he get a ticket to the event?” asked Megan.

“Unsure, but it’s something worth checking out.”

“You can’t keep up these pressure tactics, O’Brien,” the owner growled, his voice low and dangerous. “We’re barely making ends meet as it is.”

O’Brien’s reply was a sneer. “You’ll do as you’re told, or there will be consequences.”

Drake exchanged a quick glance with Megan, both understanding the gravity of what they were witnessing. They continued the tour, but the atmosphere had shifted, tension crackling like static electricity in the air. Gregor was summoned by the owner and left Megan and Drake to explore the warehouse where the bourbon barrels were torched.

As the day drew to a close, Drake and Megan found themselves alone as they prepared to leave. Suddenly, the acrid smell of smoke filled the air, followed by the blaring of alarms. Flames leaped from the distillery, a blazing inferno consuming the structure with frightening speed.

“Fire!” Megan shouted, her eyes wide with alarm.

Drake’s dragon instincts kicked in. “We need to get out now! If push comes to shove, I’ll shift and get us out.”

“I can shift myself…”

“The transition might not be complete. Stay with me,” he grabbed her hand. Megan started to pull away and then thought better of it. “Never forget, dragons don’t burn.”

Together, they navigated the chaos, dodging falling debris and bursts of flame. The heat was intense, but Drake’s protective nature and Megan’s agility saw them through. As they made their way down a narrow hallway, a burst of flames blocked their path, forcing them into a nearby storage closet.

Inside the confined space, Megan’s breath quickened, and her eyes darted around wildly. Drake could feel her fear through the bond, a sharp, almost suffocating sensation. The fear hadn’t frightened her, it was the small, closed space.

“Megan, look at me,” he commanded softly, taking her face in his hands. “Focus on me.”

She tried to nod, her breath coming in short gasps. “I... I can’t…”

“I know. It’ll be fine. You aren’t alone. Nothing will ever harm you as long as there is breath in my body.”

She nodded but trembled. Drake’s heart ached at her vulnerability. He leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a tender, yet demanding kiss. The intensity of his kiss was meant to pull her focus away from the claustrophobic space and anchor her in the here and now with him. She stiffened at first, but then her body slowly relaxed against his. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she kissed him back, the connection between them flaring to life, pushing the fear back. The bond pulsed, soothing and strong, a reminder that they were in this together.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. “We’re getting out of here, I promise. Just stay with me.”

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