Ever since getting involved with Austin and the guys about this whole mythical shifter business, I can say without a doubt that my paranoia levels have hit epic proportions. The thing that bugs me the most—okay, it’s really more than one thing, so maybe to say the biggest thing—is how it all feels so disjointed.

Like I’m missing something important.

Or better to say, there is not one cohesive thing driving all the activity.

Nothing I’ve uncovered so far proves or disproves this, which is what has me worried.

Paranoid, actually.

Being a bit of a geek to start with—and it’s okay to call me a geek, I own it—at least the cobbler’s kids do have shoes. Theft worries aside, because I do have a lot of expensive gear shoved into my apartment, now I can’t shake this creepy feeling that crawls along the back of my neck that I’m being watched.

Worse, after attacks on the mythicals and Rayne’s kidnapping and then them completely cutting Carlo off, I feel like I’m flying blind here. My fear is that I can be a target.

Sure, I’m not as big as the guys and their dragon forms, or magically kick ass as Rayne and Goldie, or even scrappy in a fight like Carlo in his wolf form. I’m just me, geeky Ronnie who turns into the cutest red fox ever to prance across the street.

So my threat isn’t strength, or magic, or brute force.

It’s cunning. Played out by being completely killer with my ability to find any secret out there.

I’ve recently gotten into security hacking, which is why my company has given me considerable slack allowing me to work from home. This is where I have my stuff. All the stuff I need to gain access to any back door in the world.

All of which also paints this huge ass target on my back.

And thus, the huge bout of paranoia that I suffer from at the moment.

Bonus! It allows me to test out all the tricks I’m learning first hand, which is quite useful knowing considering that in the course of uncovering this shitstorm of anti-mythical activity that I have attracted my own version of intelligence-intrusion hackers.

Too bad, so sad for them that I’m better.

My morning routine is shifting from my usual scan of activity on all the ‘net trawlers I have going at the moment, towards making sure that my security, electronic and physical, stays intact and if there have been any attempts made to infiltrate.

Of course they’re trying to get in electronically but so far, no one has been pushing from the outside in the physical world.

Once that’s in place, I settle down to my emails for the day.

A few from work. My mom. My older brother is having a baby. My younger sister is having a baby. My dad injured his back at work. Again. In fact, the vast bulk of my personal communications comes from my family, immediate and extended.

Nestled in all that is an email from Austin.

Part work related, with a question about a protocol I’m developing, part just catching up.

He’s been so busy of late that we barely have time to see each other unless it’s job-related at the office or at the shop over this anti-mythical hate group.

I can’t fault or hate him for being busy with a family. He wasn’t really keen on it when Nyve first entered the picture. As their bond as fated mates strengthened, and he had the baby, he’s really started to get comfortable with the changes in his life.

Maybe what bothers me about it is that there doesn’t seem to be any room in his life for me anymore. Or when there is, it feels like I’m an afterthought.

‘Oh yeah, and then there’s Ronnie.’

I know he doesn’t mean it that way and that he really is busy with his own life.

It’s a hard feeling to shake, sometimes, but I try to just let it go and enjoy the time I do get to spend with him.

The mom email is the usual. When am I coming to dinner again, can I go by and pick up my grandfather when I come, and will I be bringing someone special… all standard mom-fare email conversation.

Not that she’s pushing me to find my own mate, as if I can do that by putting out an ad on a forum, but… yeah, she kind of is. Talking about wanting more grandkids, worrying about me being alone and all that jazz.

I don’t know how to answer all that.

Do I really even want a mate in my life right now? I really don’t have time for a partner, much less a baby. For the most part, I’m really content with my life as it is at this moment. I stay busy, I’m doing what I love, and when I want social interaction, I’m not without options.

Even sex isn’t a big deal. I’m not a hermit and it’s not like I have any dry spells. Random hookups are okay for taking the edge off, but that’s not very often because I have other things going on.

I can live my life on my terms without having to take anyone else into consideration. A partner of any sort would put a crimp in that.

If I were to actually have a relationship, the one I have with Varos would be perfect. We’re good friends, at least I like to think we are. He’s hot, oh-so-hot with his tattoos and Mona Lisa smile.

The guy has so many layers it’s almost scary. Like, no matter how much I try to dive beneath, there’s another layer, another mask.

It’s something I can relate to, actually. He has his secrets. Most dragons I’ve found do. But he has a love for others’ secrets and information we have to dig for. We have that in common. If there’s a secret, he’s going to find it. If there is something buried, I will find it. He knows how to chat people up and get their secrets, I know how to dig into their life and find it.

So not only would a mate be an inconvenience, certainly having kids would put a huge crimp in my lifestyle.

Who needs that aggravation?

Working from home helps me get a handle on the sudden spate of paranoia, giving me the ability to focus on something productive and not worry about that creeping feeling that crawls across the back of my neck like someone’s watching.

With all my protections in place, I’m positive I’m not being watched but now I’ve given myself the heebie-jeebies.

My brain finally hits that ‘shutting down’ moment and I crawl into bed, dropping into sleep almost immediately.

I dream in technicolor as I float in and out of REM sleep.

I’m in a field. A soft summer breeze wafts through, causing the wildflowers to sway gently. The sun is filtered through large, fluffy clouds as they drift by lazily overhead.

From behind me, a rushing wind whips up, sending the flowers to wave in crazy directions. A shadow passes over me, its large presence pricking at my skin.

A presence is standing behind me. I can feel them there, pressing at the back of my head.

I’m not afraid. I know whoever it is would do me no harm.

Turning, the looming shadow morphs, first vague and shifting, finally taking form to reveal Varos’ enigmatic smile.

There is never a day where Varos doesn’t look incredible. In my half-crazy lucid knowing-I’m-dreaming state, he looks delicious. My brain doesn’t have to fancy him up, he’s already built like a brick wall, even though he’s just a bit smaller than Taran and Nyve. He’s solid, through and through.

He is shirtless. I see the ink as it scrolls up both arms and across his chest. I suspect it flows across his back as well.

His chest is broad and it tapers beautifully to a trim waist that I can see tantalizingly at the waistband of his jeans. Instantly, I’m hard. Varos is simply beautiful to look at with his light brown hair ruffled lightly in the gentle breeze.

When his hands smooth over my shoulders, the sensation explodes through my body. From my neck to my knees, my skin is alive with goosebumps from his delicious exploration as his talented fingers pluck at my t-shirt to pull it over my head.

If this is what it feels like to completely be in someone’s thrall, I don’t ever want to wake up.

I would hate to think reality won’t live up to my dreams as he takes me to the ground, stretching out on the carpet of soft grass. He covers me, his body pressed to mine, his mouth sucking at my tongue before he claims me completely.

It’s not that I don’t have experience with other men. I’m not the neighborhood bicycle, but I’ve had my share of partners in the past. Nothing ever made me feel as good as my dream Varos is making me feel. It’s so real to me, even with the realization I’m dreaming, that I’m certain if I open my eyes, he’ll be there, braced over me.

The disappointment of him not being there is what keeps me firmly rooted in my dream-state.

Somewhere, our clothing disappears. Hey, it’s my dream, I can do what I want, right? He takes me with no pain. I wrap my arms around him and rock with each thrust. He’s in me, he surrounds me. If I had a choice, I’d never let go and I’d stay right here in the dream with him forever breaching my body.

But even dream sex comes to an end. His face contorts with pleasure as I know he fills me and his body stiffens at his point of release. The friction on my own cock is at the perfect pressure and my own climax builds until I’m at the point of no return.

At that point in my dream, I wake with a sudden gasp.

It was a dream, I know. My body sure thinks it was real. I have to change my underwear, that’s how real it felt to me.

This is not a good sign.

As much as I don’t want to admit that I’m really falling hard for Varos, knowing too much is at stake here, I can’t deny it either.

For the love of the gods, I just dreamed about him and came from his ghostly touches.

What’s going to happen when I touch him for real?

What happens if I don’t ever get the chance?