Chapter SEVEN-ZEKE

The scent of hay and horses calms most people.

For me, it’s second only to when I’m in my scales and flying high above the world.

Maybe I should Shift?

No.

Grrrr.

Fuck no.

My Dragon’s focused on one thing only and I don’t dare give the creature my skin when all he’s thinking about is claiming a certain curvy goddess who’s currently taking up all the available space in my brain.

So, I try to work through it instead.

The barn’s warm, the afternoon sun filtering through the slats, casting golden stripes across the dusty air.

I move slowly through the center aisle, checking on each of the horses, letting my hand trail across their flanks as I go. They snort and nuzzle toward me—some affectionate, some impatient—but none are skittish.

They never are.

Not with me.

Even the high-strung gelding Dante named Cretin, swearing the thing is half feral, leans into my palm like I’ve got some kind of tranquilizer running through my fingertips.