Falk Clan Tales - Chapter 91: Chapter 91

Grrrrrrrr.
Nick crushed the empty can of ale and cast it into the recycling bin. He should try to sleep, but as usual, rest eluded him. Thoughts of his past filled his head.
Devine might have been Dragomir’s blade, but then Nicholas had been his hammer. Not as refined a swordsman as his brother, he’d used pure bulk and muscle to carry out the evil Chief’s commands. His strength had always been his blessing and curse.
No Dragon on the Isle of Pain had bested him in a single challenge. It had gotten to where he’d been fighting almost nonstop. Even now, his beast could not rest, always waiting for the next throw down.
Nicholas craved a mate. His Dragon could not settle without one. But the man was afraid. What if a mate was not enough to tame his powerful beast? After all, he’d been down this road before. Once upon a time, Nicholas thought he had found a suitable female in Constanza, but it was not meant to be. He’d come upon the maiden fair when scouring the eastern Italian coast for treasure to increase his horde.
It was there Nicholas had spied the buxom beauty and thought to claim. But a freak accident had him revealing his true self too soon, and she’d feared his Dragon right from the start. Constanza renounced her affections and ran away to wed a human farmer. It happened so many centuries ago, and yet the pain of her rejection still stung.
It would not be so bad, being alone, if everyone in his new Clan was not already mated. He was the last single Dragon, and honestly, it sucked. Especially during this festive season. There were parties and dinners he was compelled to attend, and there he stuck out like a sore thumb. So desperate for a female companion, Nicholas had even tried dating apps, but it was hopeless. Maybe the TopazDragon was just destined to be alone.
That brought up another point of contention he’d been avoiding. Nicholas’ Dragon was not responding as quickly as he used to.
“Don’t grow cold on me yet,” he muttered, rubbing his skin to mute the hollow ache above his heart.
His topaz rose was wilting. The magical marking was his to give to his one true and fated mate, but Nicholas was a realist. He was over six hundred years old, and he still had not found her.
Fucking hell. Would this be his end? Finally, he and his brother were free of Dragomir and the Isle of Pain, but what did he do with this newfound freedom?
Waste away. Go cold. Lose himself to the dark.
Lights flickered on over at the abandoned house, and Nicholas scowled, his attention diverted. Twice now he’d chased away squatters from the seaside home he’d been trying to purchase for months now.
Fucking humans, always taking what was not theirs and lacking the means to hold on to it. He snarled angrily and rolled his shoulders.
“Owwww! Dammit!”
His keen hearing picked up the sound of a shout as he dragged his jeans up his legs and Nick frowned. Whoever was yelling, the stranger sounded female—and she was seriously pissed. But the female was also crying.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, telling himself to mind his own business.
“Shit,” he growled when he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist investigating.
It was the crying that made him curious. Dressed in jeans, Nick was already out the door before he could second-guess himself. He didn’t bother with shoes or a shirt before he strode out the door, feet pounding over snow-covered sand as he hauled ass to render aid.
“Sonovamotherfuckingwhorebitch!”
Nick faltered in his advance, eyebrows raised as more crashing and glass breaking reached him. His Dragon snorted. Whoever this female was, she was pissed as hell and cursing like a sailor. Usually, he found that sort of language off-putting in a female, but right then, he was more concerned with what caused her to curse and rage. He wanted to help, to make it right for some unknown reason. His Dragon agreed and was more than a little strange. Nick usually did not care for saucy females.
“Suck my balls, you two-timing, cheat! My lawyer is gonna rip you a new asshole by the time he gets through with you, you lowlife. My money, my car, my condo. Just get out of my face, dipshit!”
He didn’t even realize he was smirking until he caught his reflection in the cracked glass of the front door. Nicholas peeked in through the half-opened portal and his eyes bugged out of his head.
Inside was an angry, hysterical female, and she was yelling into her phone. Who was she? He did not recognize the weeping woman, but something was familiar about her, something tugging his beast forward.
Sniff. His inner beast growled. The female was all Wolf—not a human as he had previously thought. Nick paused, observing the miniscule creature. She was curvy in all the right places but stood at least a foot shorter than him. She cursed and hopped around on one foot, snarling at a rusted nail sticking up out of the carpeted floor.
Green shag—old, smelly, and hideous.
Go to her, the Dragon hissed.
Nicholas froze. This was not his concern, no matter what his scaly alter ego thought. He was about to walk away and leave her to it when he remembered where he was. He needed this property. Maybe he could get in good with the owners if he stopped her from doing, er, whatever she was doing there.
Keep her safe.
What? No. Shut up! Nick growled at his Dragon, pushing the enormous beast down.
Okay, the she-Wolf might be cute when she was upset. But neither that nor her injury gave her leave to break into the place he wanted to buy. The Dragon scratched and Nick wrestled with him until he was almost panting with the exertion.
Fucking hell.
The Dragon was already preparing to press forth again, and Nick had to think fast. New plan—run with it.
This was the perfect opportunity to nail two birds with one stone. He could satisfy his beast’s need to see she was okay, and perhaps there was finally a reason for the owner to contact him.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
Keep it professional, simple, that was his motto. But the she-Wolf turned around, large, golden brown eyes wet with unshed tears, and his heart faltered inside his chest.
Fuck. She’s beautiful.
“Eeeek! Christ, you scared me,” she accused, hand over her heart. “What do you want? Can’t you see I am having a lousy frigging night over here? Who even are you?”
The stranger turned to face him, standing on one foot, her golden eyes flashing at him beneath her dark lashes. She had a shapely body, revealed in tight leggings and a figure hugging sweater. A halo of glossy, dark ringlets circled her head, and her face—fuck, her face was perfect.
Even with smeared makeup and a slight hiccup in her voice, the strange she-Wolf was stunning. He’d noted the flashy red Camaro outside and the bags she’d dragged into the dusty home curiously.
“You can’t be here, Miss, uh, I don’t know your name,” he said stupidly.
“That’s because I didn’t offer it. And you know what? I am tired of big dumb men telling me what to do!” she shouted. “You wanna know what I’m doing here? Fine. I’m here cause this is my house, pal. My grandmother left it to me, and since my entire family is gone for the holidays, and my winter show is indefinitely canceled, I came here to, to—I don’t know!” she wailed, slumping to the floor in a sobbing mess of Werewolf.
What the fuck was Nick supposed to do now?
He scratched the back of his neck, rubbing his hand over his head and face while her sobs grew in volume. Her narrow shoulders shook, and he thought he heard her snort. This had to be that thing the females of his Clan had once described as an ugly cry.
Damn. They were right. It was ugly. But that did not stop his heart from wrenching inside his chest. Nick could not stand it another minute.
“Okay, come on,” he grunted, plucking her off the floor. She weighed next to nothing, but he liked the feel of her plump curves snuggled against his chest.
“Stop that! I didn’t say you could manhandle me,” she growled, slapping at his hands.
Wasn’t that cute? He could have stopped it, a Werewolf was simply no match for a Dragon, but Nick rather liked her feisty nature.
Odd. Very odd. He’d always preferred his females docile—wait, she wasn’t his female. He growled and shook his head.
“Quiet, minx,” Nick barked, sitting her down on the counter.
He ignored the electrical zing that had zipped through his fingertips when he lifted her off the floor. Now that contact was broken, his fingers buzzed with aftershocks, as if missing the feel of her.
Not good.
“Let’s see your foot,” he rumbled, pulling off her cute furry boots none too gently and assessing the damage.
“Don’t use the faucet water,” she mumbled, observing him cautiously.
Nick grabbed the bottle of spring water she must have carried in with her from off the counter. Next, he wet a clean napkin she’d handed from a pile in her pocket. He snorted and shook his head.
Who the fuck kept twenty napkins in their sweater?
Females. Sweet smelling, soft to the touch females.
“It’s already healing,” he growled, patting her skin dry and stepping back quickly.
Touching her again was a terrible idea.
No, it’s not, his Dragon growled.
When the fuck had his beast decided to come to the party so aggressively? Nick growled his frustration and turned to leave, even if his Dragon threatened to gut him if he did.
“Hey, uh, thank you,” she mumbled after him.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, remembering her connection to the house, and wanting to get on her good side. “Uh, you know, I have been trying to find out who owned this place for a while now.”
“Oh, really? Why?” she asked, putting her sock back. Next, she checked the inside of her ruined boot, trying to assess the damage, he guessed.
“I was hoping to buy it.”
“Ha,” she cut him off with her barked laughter. “Why? Gotta wife and kids you think would love to live in a drafty old house down the shore?”
“Uh no,” he growled. “No mate. No young. I just, er, actually, I want to knock it down.”
The woman’s eyes met his. She narrowed her gaze and heaved a sigh. Then she cocked her head and squinted at him.
“You said mate, so you are a Shifter. I just can’t tell what kind,” she replied.
“Is that so? Good,” he rumbled.
“Ah, okay. Well, look Mr. Need to Know Basis Pants, if you’re gonna barge in here and tell me you want to knock down my house, I figure you might as well make yourself useful. I have a couple of boxes in the trunk of that hot rod outside that I need for work, go get ‘em and we can chat,” she answered, tossing him the keys as she hopped off the counter.
Werewolves must be nuts, he mused as he watched the spunky little woman start dragging two enormous suitcases across the floor and over to what looked like a dangerous staircase. Nicholas caught the thrown key fob easily and scoffed.
Who did this tiny female think she was, ordering a mighty Dragon around? Strangely enough, though, he was already turning around to obey her dictate.
What the hell?
Nicholas was not the type to be bossed around. It angered and confused him, but even after considering the reasons, he sure as shit was not prepared for his Dragon’s response to his rhetorical question.
Who is she? Easy.
Es meus.