The Mate (A Fire's Edge Short Story - Prequel)

Chapter 1

Fallon

What the hell am I doing here?

The thought crossed Fallon's mind for the thousandth time since the Mating Council had notified him last week that his family brand had shown up on a new mate...and he was one of the possible matches.

Hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants, feeling like a puffed-up tool in his designer suit, Fallon strolled down the lavish, gold-gilded hallway. His uncomfortable dress shoes tapped against the marble flooring with a loud, echoing click, click, click.

A mate. For him? No fucking way.

A mate was a precious gift, one Fallon took seriously. One every dragon shifter took seriously—not just because finding your destined mate lengthened your life span, but because dragons were compelled to, like a biological imperative only a thousand times stronger. The urge was more about becoming whole once your soul bonded with your mate's than the need to procreate. Hell, men were known to fight for mates, steal them, even kill or die for them.

However, Fallon had serious doubts that this particular woman was meant for him. Only one woman in all his centuries had caught his attention. A human he could never have. Plus, with his own soul and the new mate's life on the line, no way would he risk it unless he was sure. Not after witnessing his brother go through picking the wrong woman. That kind of pain broke a man.

Besides, he was too young, nowhere near the time his search for his mate would become desperate. Not like most of the guys. The Huracáns, the team of enforcers he was part of, patrolled the western parts of North America. They had been there for centuries and not one of the men was mated. All those facts and more put Fallon's chances somewhere between laughable and not a shot in hell.

Not that he could've refused to come.

A refusal would've been taken as an insult at the least, as a sign of dissent against the clans and the kings at the worst. He was an enforcer—hand selected by the king of his clan to bring law and order to the colonies—an honor he'd earned, dammit. Given his role, Fallon was expected to set the example of allegiance. The ultimate loyalist. Besides, no dragon turned his back on an opportunity at a mate, even if he didn't believe it.

So, he'd flown his ass to France.

A set of double doors loomed at the end of the hall. Beside him, Macon scurried to keep up, huffing and puffing. The North American Alliance representative for the Blue Clan—the clan they both hailed from—had accompanied him across the pond as a chaperone of sorts. As a dragon shifter, Macon should be in better shape, but he was a politician. Soft. All talk and expensive cologne.

"Finn should be here," Fallon muttered, more to himself.

As the leader of the Huracán team, Fallon's older brother held a position of greater importance. Finn also shared the same family brand on the back of his neck. The brand that matched the new mate just waiting inside those doors.

Macon's head bobbed like a bird as he glanced over. "Trust the mating process."

"I'm a low-level enforcer," Fallon argued. Not that his position should matter. Mated couples were destined by the fates. Every dragon shifter only had one.

"You're a healer, too," Macon pointed out. "They know what they're doing. This process has been in place since before your birth."

Ugh. That nasal whine of his voice. Fallon would be glad to escape it. He just had to get cut from the list quickly, then he could return home. His team needed him there, fighting the traitor Rune Abaddon, keeping the colonies safe, not gallivanting across Europe on a fool's errand.