Citrine considered himself the most practical of dragons. He’d never needed a collar. He’d never fallen out of line. He’d done everything the oracle asked of him, helped many dragons find their way, and fought alongside his friends in epic battles with perfect precision.

He’d never been one to lose control. Considered gentle by some, terrifying by others, he’d always prided himself on being above petty, overwhelming emotions.

That was before he found his mate.

He adjusted the radio in the car he’d gotten sick and tired of driving during his searches through the mountainous regions of Washington. When he found nothing but static, he turned the radio off to be alone with his thoughts.

He was getting close now. So close. And the closer he got, the more his heart pounded in painful memory of the day he’d realized he did have normal emotions.

That under the right circumstances, even a rational, logical male could be whipped into a storm of rage and frustration that could cause him to act stupidly.

Thus, he now had a collar around his neck.

Luckily for him, it was the collar made for the original awakened dragons and would allow partial shifting and use of powers if someone were in danger. If it were the more restrictive collar used for the metal dragons (brute Vikings that they were), then he would be in a lot more trouble.

Because he was headed into wolf country and an almost sure confrontation with one of their powerful alphas, and he couldn’t afford to lose.

Not if it meant losing Robbie.

He ran a hand through his dark, collar-length hair that had become slightly disheveled the past few weeks on the road. Robbie had lied to Kelsie about living only an hour from Seattle. But it made sense that she couldn’t tell a human who had no idea about shifters that there were isolated wolf packs hiding in the deepest pockets of forest nested all around the mountains.

He hadn’t known about it himself, and he prided himself on knowing a great deal of shifter culture. Then again, there was general knowledge and there was regional knowledge, and—

He let out a huff and decided that babbling, even in his own head, was unnecessary.

What would it be like to see her again? What would he say? Was he presentable? He looked in the mirror as he followed the winding road up into the mountains and saw slight dark circles under his eyes.

It made sense. His mate was out there, possibly being claimed by someone. Possibly alone or hurt or being forced into something she didn’t want.

She shouldn’t have just left like that. He supposed he hadn’t faced his feelings because he always kept himself tightly locked up and because he’d had a job to do with the other dragons before he could think about his own situation.

But he’d thought he had time…

It was getting shadier overhead as the towering trees surrounded the road, which was narrow and bumpy. A few minutes later, light burst through as he pulled into a clearing and saw a small sign pointing right, a road curving up in a circle. He turned onto it, and as he curved around, a tiny town came into view, nestled a little lower amongst trees.

He pulled an address out of his pocket. The most recent lead he’d gotten from the oracle. If this was the right town… if this was the right place, he would soon be seeing Robbie.

He continued to drive into the town, looking at the numbers on the quaint, quiet houses, observing the few people walking outside who looked back at him with wary eyes. He didn’t know that he’d ever seen such a small town before.

Minutes seemed to pass in seconds, and his chest felt tighter as he got closer to his destination. Despite his dragon being restrained inside him, Citrine could feel it roaring. His mate was here, in these woods.

He kept driving until he got to a private driveway with a gate. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ring the button, so he parked in the shade, got out of the car, and looked through the bars. A nice, older, largish house stood back from a large garden, set back from the town a little bit.

He could ring the button by the gate, but he decided he wanted the element of surprise, so he walked to the wall by the side of the gate and scaled it easily, planting one hand at the top and leaping over. He didn’t have dragon strength for nothing.

He strode up the front drive, staying in the shade of the trees, and when he saw the steps leading up to the front door, slightly chipped by age but so welcoming, he wanted to let out a sigh of relief.

This was her home. This was where his mate had grown up.

He took a deep breath, stepped up to the door, and knocked.

He waited, knowing his knock had come off a little harder than he’d meant, but that was what weeks of waiting and sheer worry did to a male.

When the door began to open, he prepared himself for the fact that he could see anyone. Her mother. Her father. Her fiancé. He wanted to spit at that word.

But no, as the door opened, he saw Robbie, and his heart felt as if it breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in so long.

“Robbie,” he said, relieved. He took a step forward, wanting to pull her into his arms, but she stepped back slightly.

His eyes narrowed as a man stepped up beside her. He was tall with brown hair and very light-blue eyes, a stocky, tall build characteristic to shifters, and a glint in his eye that said he very much sensed a threat on his territory.

If this guy thought Robbie was his territory, he had another thing coming.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, and there was quiet censure in her voice.

Looking her over, Citrine realized he’d been so overjoyed to see her face that he hadn’t noticed this wasn’t the Robbie he knew so well.

Instead of bold red lipstick, she wore something soft and pink and translucent. Instead of a bold hairstyle, her dark, curly hair was in a low ponytail. Instead of sky-high heels and a business suit, she was wearing jeans and a soft, oversized flannel shirt that hid her curves.

But all of that together wouldn’t have bothered him if it didn’t look as though the light had gone out of her eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

She sent him a pleading look. “Citrine… I’m kind of in the middle of something, and—”

The douchebag at the doorway stepped in front of her and faced Citrine, pushing his chest out. “Yeah. I don’t know who you are, but you can leave.”

“Bryson, stop it,” Robbie said, showing a little of her old spark as she shoved at the tall bully beside her, pushing him out of the way so she could open the door more fully. She gestured at the room behind her, and Citrine saw two pairs of adults, probably her parents and his parents, sitting on opposite couches in the living room.

He also noted that her house had pink carpet.

He looked at her again, wondering what she was trying to tell him.

“I just… I left you a note,” she said. “Your club is fine without me, and if it’s about the damages to the doors, then—”

“It’s not about the doors,” he snapped, wondering how she could be so obtuse. Of course, she didn’t know anything about what he’d been doing since she’d left. How hard he’d struggled, how much he’d fought to realize his own feelings. How much he missed her and how determined he was to win her back.

She only knew what was going on in her home. And that appeared to be some kind of in-law meeting ceremony.

The brute glared at him from beside Robbie. “You’re on the wrong doorstep.”

“No,” Citrine said with a hard glare of his own. He took another step forward. He wasn’t afraid of this wolf. This dog. “I’m exactly where I belong.”

“But I—”

“Are you Robbie’s fiancé?”

The brute nodded.

“Then I’m here to extend an alpha challenge.”

Bryson’s eyes widened, and he stuttered. “You’re joking.”

Robbie, like the others in the house, was staring, agape.

“I’m not.” Citrine closed the space until he was nose to nose with the other man. “Robbie is going to be my mate.”