Page 25 of Cowboy Dragon's Rose

I run a hand through my hair, gripping the back of my neck until it hurts.

“Zeke,” a voice calls from the barn entrance.

I don’t have to look. I know that voice.

Max.

Alpha of our crew. Jersey Devil. Mate and new father.

Love-struck lucky bastard.

He strolls in like he owns the place—which, technically, he does—but his presence is never heavy.

Not with us. Not with me.

Just steady. Watching. Measuring.

The man has glowing red eyes and if he had a mind to do so, he could unleash claws that could gut a cow, and magic that could turn even my hair gray, but right now, he’s radiating domestic bliss like an Instagram influencer who just discovered puppy yoga and lemon-scented candles.

He leans against a stall post, arms crossed.

“You’re brooding.”

“I’m thinking,” I counter.

“Thinking broodingly, then,” he amends, grinning.

I grunt.

He lets the silence settle for a moment, then pushes off the post and steps up beside me.

He reaches into the feed bucket, pulls out a sugar cube, and offers it to the roan, who takes it with a snort of gratitude.

“Dante texted. So, the girl?”

I stiffen.

“Don’t start.”

“Too late. You kissed her.”

Max grins like the bastard I’m starting to think he is. And suddenly I wonder if Devils taste good barbecued.

“Yeah, well, she was looking at me like I was about to eat her.”

“And were you?” He wags his eyebrows up and down.

“Dammit, Max.”

I’m stuck between moaning at the image of devouring a sweet, curvy Casey, and wanting to roar because I’m not doing that right fucking now.

Max knows it, too. The prick. He just chuckles softly.

“Look, Zeke, you kissed her. She’s still here. That’s something.”

“She doesn’t know what I am. She won’t understand how I feel. Neither do you! I feel fucking?—”

“Out of control? Instantly obsessed? Like you’ll go crazy if you don’t get your hands on her right now?”

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