Free Bloodrunner Dragon (Harper's Mountains Book 1) by T. S. Joyce

fucking treasure, and you ditched her.”
    “Weston!” Harper yelled, yanking his shirt from underneath his hand just to make him stop touching her. He was speaking about personal things that he didn’t understand. “That’s enough.”
    “And then you bring her here and force her into some fucked-up war with the vamps. That’s what this is, right? We just killed the queen of a coven. The queen . And I saw that look in her eyes, Wyatt. That vamp wanted to kill Harper. And judging from the scars on your neck, I’d say that’s on you, too.” Weston rammed himself backward against the seat and crossed his arms. “We should’ve never come here.”
    Such pain slashed across Wyatt’s face, Harper couldn’t bear to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the heartbreak there.
    He swallowed audibly. “You’re right, Wes. I’ve fucked up my whole life, and it hurt Harper. It hurt you and the people back home. I hurt everyone I care about. But I want to be better. I need to be.”
    Ryder leaned forward and gripped Wyatt’s shoulder, shook him gently, then relaxed back against his seat.
    “Why couldn’t you just leave him alone, Harper?” Weston asked so softly she almost missed it.
    She bit her lip and stalled on answering because, if she was honest with him, Wes might hate her. Not because he was jaded, but because he’d always worried over her. But if she didn’t draw her line in the sand and tell them exactly where she stood, they would never really get it. None of them would.
    She gave a helpless shrug. “Because I love him.” She didn’t dare look at Wyatt when she admitted that out loud, though she could feel him glance over at her.
    Weston huffed a disappointed sound. “Bad choice, Harper.”
    Harper wrapped her arms around her middle and rested her cheek against the headrest, stared out at the night woods that lined the road. “You’re wrong, Weston.”
    “Yeah? About what?”
    She tossed a sad smile to Wyatt’s faint reflection in the window. “You’re wrong about love being a choice.”

Chapter Eight
     
    Harper massaged her palm with the thumb of her other hand. It still tingled from where her bones had healed. It would probably feel sore for a few days, but Weston was good. The crew he was born into, the Gray Backs, were notorious for fighting each other. Bone-setting was a skill they all possessed.
    She touched her lips as she remembered the kiss Wyatt had given her against his truck. Nothing in her entire life had felt bigger. Perhaps it was because of the moment he had chosen, when she was in pain and in need of a beautiful distraction, when her emotions were soaring, and she was so relieved to still be breathing. Maybe it was because of that.
    But more likely, that kiss had felt completely consuming because it was Wyatt, and she’d been suffering away from him. Her dragon felt whole in that moment, like nothing could break them apart again.
    But as much as she wanted to bury herself in the shadow of safety Wyatt cast, she had a life away from here. She worked for her grandfather as his in-house lawyer. She had family and friends in Saratoga. There, things were easy and comfortable, while here, over the course of thirty hours, she’d experienced every emotion imaginable. Dragons weren’t built for that. They were steady-eddy and cool, calm, collected. Swinging emotions got people burned and the earth scorched. Her ancestors had waged war on each other and killed off nearly every single immortal dragon. Now, only mortal halflings like her walked the earth. Maybe that’s why she’d always struggled to fit in. She’d had a law practice down in Saratoga for a couple of years before she accepted the position overseeing all legal documentation pertaining to Pop-Pop’s businesses. And in that two years, she’d made an effort to find something outside of Damon’s mountains. She’d made friends, but as hard as she tried to build lasting bonds with the humans she spent time with, she was