Page 5 of The Heart of the Dragon

I shrugged off John’s disbelief and quickly hung my cloak on a peg. He didn't believe in the supernatural, but many here did. Scotland had a long history of the strange and unusual and I believed those folk tales came from somewhere, even if they had been embellished over the years.

I grabbed one of the aprons and a hair tie from my pocket. There’d been no time to wrangle the frazzled mess I called hair before I headed this way and now it was damp and sticking to my skin.

“I’ll get started on another pot of stew right away."

"Thanks." He smiled. "You really are the best. And I'm not surprised to see so many people show up for your food. It's incomparable."

Warmth spread through my chest at his praise. It made me happy that others enjoyed my cooking. While the stew was nothing special, it did have a secret ingredient, But that was more for the wellbeing of the clients who came through here than the taste.

Most of the men and women who came to the shelter had a variety of issues that made their lives difficult. Depression, anxiety, and PTSD just to name a few. If my all organic, homegrown herbs could give them even a few moments of calming peace, or improve their health, it was well worth it and I'd happily make one hundred pots of the stew.

I only wished I could do more. Most of the profit from my store came through the shelter, and I volunteered as much of my time that I could spare when in town, but it never seemed like enough.

I disappeared into the far recesses of the kitchen and gathered everything I would need. Winter wasn't my favorite season either. Except for the time I would spend at the cottage alone. That I always looked forward to.

I hummed as I worked. Chopping and peeling while my broth steeped to perfection. As the chill from my walk over disappeared, I found myself peeling layers of clothing off as I progressed until I was down to nothing but my tank top and skirt underneath the apron I wore to keep my clothes clean.

"How's it going back here? I'm out of stew out front, and we've still got more people coming in. Should I heat something else to tide us over until you're done?"

"No need," I said as I turned to him and wiped my hands on a fresh towel. "It's ready."

He smiled wide and looked so relieved that for a second I thought he might clap his hands in glee or something else crazy like that. I shook my head of that ridiculous notion. Although the gleam in his eye had caught me off guard.

"Perfect. I'll carry the pot out front and if you want to help me dish up the bowls, it would be much appreciated."

"Of course." I hurried behind him as he hefted the heavy cast iron pot with ease.

I pushed through the door and stopped in my tracks. There he sat, in the far corner, as far away from the kitchen as he could get. Alone. I'd forgotten all about him when I got lost in cooking. But now I wanted to know more about him.

His aura radiated darker red than even before. But that wasn't all. The metal ladle in my hand dropped to the ground, the noise clanging through the small space so loud it hurt my ears.

I swallowed thickly and blinked furiously to clear my eyes. Because what I saw behind the giant of a man sitting frozen at the table with a spoonful of my stew halfway to his mouth was impossible.

There was a green dragon standing there, growling in my direction.

The same sound I'd heard in the cemetery.

Chapter

Three

Magnus

From the lookon the woman's face and the dragon growling in my head, I could tell something was very very wrong. But I didn't have a clue what it was. The dragon did most of my thinking these days, and I spent all of my energy fighting him for control to keep him from doing something stupid.

The whole thing was exhausting, and I'd give anything to be back where I belonged—in the fae realm—instead of here in this chaos. I'd come here tonight because I wanted a taste of normalcy without the dragon breathing down my neck.

Not to mention this stew. I scooped another spoonful into my mouth and savored the rich depth of flavors. It looked simple enough, but there was something else about it that I couldn't pin down. It had a gentle sweet flavor with a tang of spice. Whatever it was, I couldn't seem to get enough of it.

And now that I'd watched the woman across the room working on it, I rather liked knowing that she'd made it instead of the grump at the serving counter. He'd looked down his nose at mewith distrust in his eyes and it took a lot of effort not to bite him for it.

Her on the other hand? My entire body tightened thinking about her. She was the first and only thing about this world that had captured my attention.

But seeing the redhead in the cemetery earlier had woken the dragon from his slumber and he'd been on edge and hovering in my mind ever since. I could feel the control slipping through my fingers.

"Rose!" The big man who served the food called from behind the counter. I rolled her name around in my head for a moment, enjoying the feel of it in my mind. She was pretty in an understated way, but that wasn’t what had initially drawn my attention.

I'd first caught sight of her huddled underneath her cloak as she walked close to where I stood watching. Despite being bundled from head to toe against the weather, I’d spied the wild mane of red hair that had whipped around her face in the wind. Even more noticeable, was the varied scent from her that carried to my nose.

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