Falk Clan Tales - Chapter 78: Chapter 78

“Wait! Please, just hang on a sec.” The she-Wolf’s voice was husky and melodic—sexy, his Dragon added. That had him stopping short in his tracks. Since when did his beast have an opinion on women? He growled and walked faster.
“No fair! Your legs are twice as long as mine, buddy,” she said. Closer now than before.
Now, why did that make him all tingly? Dragons did not get tingly. It was unseemly. He snorted and shook his head. Devine did not give a fuck if her voice was scratchy and cute, not at all screechy, and annoying like he found so many females. And so what if his Dragon was taking notice? He was not the boss of him.
Am too. Snarrrrllllll. Stay.
His legs froze in place, the Dragon exerting his will. What the actual fuck? No, he was not doing this. He wrestled his beast down, forcing his body to obey him. This was what happened when a Dragon like him indulged in a hobby that did not involve maiming anyone.
Grrr.
Now he had to deal with clumsy little she-Wolves following him around, for fuck’s sake. Devine Graystone stomped out of the ridiculously named garden center, ignoring the lunatic Werewolf who seemed to work there. What was she thinking? Was it play a trick on a Dragon day? He did not believe his ears.
Mate. Ha!
The crazy canine had called him her mate. What kind of game was she playing? Devine snarled and almost tore off the door to his custom Ford F-150 pickup truck. The vehicle was perfect for work and play with its brand new lift kit, wheels, and tire package, giving it that little bit of an extra boost a man his size needed.
He’d had them work on the interior, as well. Devine had a thing for design and when he wanted something, it was his way or no way. True, he liked all the modern toys and gadgets he and his brother had been learning ever since they’d left the Isle of Pain.
When he ordered his truck, he had a computer console upgrade, woodgrain additions, custom luxury leather seats with hand stitching, and those high endurance weatherproof mats on the floor. It was a good thing he was a fast learner.
Computers seemed to run the modern world, and the things he’d seen on the internet were both awesome and terrible. Humankind were miles away from being civilized despite calling themselves a civilization.
The atrocities they afforded on one another reminded him of his old Chief. Terrible, wasteful, and lacking all trace of compassion. He’d grown up hard, like every other Dragon he knew. Devine had spent most of his youth fighting the Demons that spilled from the hellmouth not far from his former home.
It was a Dragon’s duty to protect the world from the evil wanting to take over. A small band of supernaturals called the Wardens of Terra were doing that job now and he could finally retire. But how did a Dragon like him learn to live without bloodlust and war raging through his veins?
“Easy,” Callius Falk had told him. “You find something else to take up your time.”
Devine had discovered the F-150 quite by accident. He’d spent months designing his perfect vehicle, and yeah, he enjoyed that truck. One might even say, he loved it—but just then, this she-Wolf had his inner beast two seconds away from ripping the door clean off.
He turned around, holding his arms out lest she crash into him one more time. Gods forbid he touch that curvy, soft, utterly feminine form again.
Grrr. Good idea. Touch.
Frowning, Devine pushed his beast down once more. This was lunacy. He was not looking for his mate. he could not possibly have one. And even if he did, who would have picked this female for him? Dragons were old-fashioned with strict tastes and ideas on how their females looked and behaved.
This utterly modern she-Wolf was not for him. He scoffed and took in her messy hair and completely inappropriate work clothes. Her eyes were bright and her grin wide, honest. She smelled fucking delicious like woods, Wolf, and woman.
Fuck.
“What do you want?” he growled.
She wore skintight leggings—almost see through in some places—that molded to her curvy legs and plump bottom. She was petite and yet buxom, short enough for him to tower over her, but she appeared hearty. She was a Wolf, after all. But the woman was entirely too damn soft for a rough monster like him.
Her cropped shirt showed a strip of pale soft skin at the hem of her ruffled top. The short sleeves fluttered in the breeze like butterflies’ wings and had the most intriguing effect on his Dragon. The beast could not stop staring at her.
She was not wearing a bra, that much was obvious from the way her tip-tilted breasts showed off her cherry-ripe nipples through the thin material of her shirt. A small red apron was tied around her waist, making him glance once more at that teasing strip of bare skin, and it was almost as distracting as her mess of multicolored curls that circled her head in a frizzy halo.
Her skin was pale, and she had a smattering of freckles across her nose, plump lips, and a cute little upturned nose. Wait—cute? No. She was a disaster. And she was mistaken. Devine was not her mate. He was no one’s mate.
“Whew! Thanks for stopping,” she said and expelled a breath. “Wow, you are fast.”
She wore an enormous smile, showing off her straight white teeth, and for some reason his Dragon approved of that grin. It was ridiculous. He looked down at her feet and frowned. The woman had on the ugliest pair of shoes he had ever seen.
Were they tie-dyed? How the fuck did you tie dye rubber?
“What are those?” he asked before he could stop himself. Damn his curiosity.
“These? Oh, they’re Crocs. They are like my favorite shoe ever. Not these in particular, though I do like the colors they went with,” she said pointing her toes in the huge, rounded boat things she called Crocs. Ridiculous.
“You must be joking,” he grumbled, shaking his head.
“I’m not,” she said, smiling even wider. “Seriously, I stopped wearing all other shoes like fifteen years ago. I have over fifty pairs on account of I wear them so much, I have actually put holes through the soles of them, but I can’t bring myself to throw them away. They are just so cute. Don’t you think so?” she asked after her explanation, sucking in a breath before continuing with her rambling nonsense.
“No, I don’t,” he growled, closing his eyes when the Dragon snarled at him.
Be nice.
“Oh, well, some people are put off by their appearance, but really if you haven’t tried them, you should save your opinion,” she said with just as much enthusiasm as before.
Devine was aware he’d been rude and insulting, but the she-Wolf did not seem put off at all. IN fact, she turned her foot this way and that, studying her shoes with a silly grin on her face, and fuck, she was really cute. But she was not his.
“I keep hoping they will offer some kind of sole repair where they can, I don’t know, glue new bottoms on or something—oooh! Maybe I should write to them and see if they can be recycled within the company! That’s a great idea. Thanks,” the woman—not woman, she-Wolf, meus lupus—finished.
Meus lupus. What? No. Not mine.
Devine had enough of his meddling beast and was ready to tell this female to leave him alone when she turned her wide, brown eyes on him and smiled. Fucking hell. He’d be lying if Dev said he did not feel something stirring deep within himself at that rapt gaze.
She had thanked him—this crazy, strange she-Wolf and Devine had warmed under the praise she gave so freely, even though it was without cause. He had nothing to do with how she got from point A to point B—which had to be via the world’s largest fucking loopdeloop ever because this female was nuttier than a fruitcake. They stood there, her with a soft, expectant smile on her face, and him with a confused grimace.
“So,” she began, biting her lip nervously.
She was practically glowing under his angry stare, and he felt like a total undeserving shit. She was strange, but good—wholesome even. Too good for him.
“Look, Miss, there has been a mistake. I am no one’s mate,” Devine explained gently as he could.
Of course, he wasn’t. If he had a mate, she would likely be some giant warrior like himself. A mean, hard-eyed female who did not take crap from anyone. Not this soft, sweet smelling she-Wolf.
What would he do with a creature such as she? Standing there, staring at him with her warm, guileless brown eyes, and ready grin, showcasing straight white teeth and plump pink lips. She exuded happiness—seemed to radiate it, but if she knew the horrors of what he’d done, she would run screaming from him. That didn’t bear thinking, and Devine frowned at the image and the sudden pain in his chest.
“You know, you can fight it, but it’s true. You are my mate. At least, my Wolf is pretty damn sure you are,” she returned easily.
“I suggest you speak firmly to her, little Wolf. I am not mate material. Truth is, I only came here to ask about this plant,” he muttered, looking around uncomfortably for someone to rescue him from this nightmarish conversation.
“Oh, right,” she murmured, her attention flitting to the small potted plant he still held.
Now, why did it rankle with his beast that she was no longer focusing on him? Shit, Devine grumbled. He was not going to indulge that question for even a moment.
“It’s from my rooftop greenhouse. I am in the process of winterizing it, but something is wrong. Some of the plants have started dying,” he mumbled, concern in his voice.
He did not know why it bothered him so, but the sight of the poor wilting plants had struck a chord inside of him. Devine rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding the pained glance she gave him before she turned her attention to the plant. Someone soft and sweet—someone like her—would be better for the plants, he knew.
For the briefest of moments, Dev wished he was different. Wished he was kind and good and deserving, but what was the point in that? He could not change his past. And regardless of her suppositions, the she-Wolf was not his future.
“May I?” the female asked. Whether she was excusing, or simply ignoring his rudeness, he could not be sure.
She lifted the small potted plant, and he noticed her fingernails were short and clean, and she had small scars on her hands probably from work or play. Werewolves were tough, he knew, and that meant strength. She had strength, but not enough to take him on.
Devine frowned as she handled the fragile stem. He did not know why he’d brought it. It was sick and delicate, but whatever was going on with that one orchid, was happening to all of them and he would be damned if he lost any of his plants.
He had needed something to do when he was finishing building. He hated computers and making money was easy. When Winifred Falk had suggested a greenhouse, he had no idea what he would fill it with, but after much research he’d settled on growing orchids.
Horticulturists around the world agreed growing orchids was a taxing hobby, but Devine was a Dragon. He had laser-like focus and ample time to spare. He needed a project, something to do to fill the long hours of the day.
For the first few months it had seemed fine, but as he started winterizing the greenhouse, things had turned to shit. He had somehow thrown off the balance of the environment or maybe it was the food. Really, he could not say.
So, he’d come here and waited as the she-Wolf pursed her full, naturally pink lips. She turned the pot around, studying it carefully before meeting his gaze.
“Arethusa bulbosa, commonly known as Dragon's Mouth,” she murmured, smiling as if she knew his secret. Maybe she did. He could not be sure how many Wolves were aware of the Dragons in their midst.
“Yes,” he replied, and he was pleased she had guessed correctly.
“Do you have more of them? It seems like this one was separated recently, and I wonder if any of the others are suffering the same.”
“How did you know?” he asked, surprised by her intuition.
“I own this place, it’s my business to know plants.”
“I see,” he murmured. “Well, if you can just give me some tips, maybe point me to a new kind of fertilizer or something so I can fix whatever this is⁠—”
“Actually,” she said, stepping into his personal space, bringing with her the scents of sage and clean earth. “I think I need to see your setup in order to properly diagnose the problem.”
Clever Wolf.
His Dragon preened inside his mind’s eye, happy that she wanted to see his den, er, house. Devine had his doubts, but one more glance at the wilting flower and he knew he had no choice.
“Fine. Here is my address,” he snapped, thrusting a card into her hand. “Come in the morning.”
“I have work⁠—”
“Come in the morning or not at all, little Wolf. I have other things to do with my time,” he said, not entirely truthful.
“Okay,” she replied with a sharp nod. “You make coffee, and I will bring the bagels.”
“I don’t eat bagels,” he lied. “Look, we’re not having breakfast. You are just looking at my plants and giving me a solution.”
“Don’t worry, Hot Stuff. I’ll fix what’s wrong.”
She gave him a cute wave then jogged back across the parking lot, and fool that he was, Devine could only stare. Her parting statement played over and over again in his mind, and he growled, getting into his truck, and slamming the door.
I’ll fix what’s wrong.
“You can’t,” he whispered hoarsely.
Devine placed the potted orchid back inside the small cardboard box he’d brought for it on the floor of the passenger seat. He glanced in the direction she’d run in one more time before peeling out of the parking lot. Emotions the likes of which he’d never felt crashed into him, and fuck, it hurt like hell. His Dragon was scratching at his skin, begging to be loosed.
He needed to change. Now.