Prologue – Kieran
Nothing quite like family bonds, was there? His own messed-up family had it all. They wore arrogance like a mantle, going through life with a supreme conviction of their own superiority. Greed came with the territory as well—he watched one of his older brothers be killed in a duel for more land, and then his own family take vengeance against the victor later, by catching them with their pants down, and ensuring they didn’t live long enough to enjoy the spoils.
Kieran was only seven when his oldest brother died. That left the next one in line messed up and set to inherit. Trouble was, Vellen had been really close to his big brother and didn’t exactly handle the loss well. He stumbled so far away from family tracks, the inheritance got cut from him. Kieran was fourteen when Vellen lost his inheritance. The third brother, Broxar—turned out he was infertile.
Three strikes. Dead, exiled, and incompetent. Leaving Kieran in potential line for a destiny he loathed.
No, don’t fraternize with humans. No, don’t pursue whatever foolish dreams lingered in his head. Definitely no to marrying outside what the family wanted for him. How else could they raise their status, after all?
Sure was fun, being a tool for advancement, listening to his father lecture about their great destiny, and his mother simper over all the potential dragon wives they might select for him.
So naturally, at eighteen, he decided to break completely away from the clan. They tried comforting themselves, saying it was only a phase. After all, the fourth and final son couldn’t possibly be a failure, too, right? How embarrassing would that be?
Kieran happily intended to fail for them. Permanently. He was done with their games, with being pushed away from a better future.
Absolutely done.
Chapter One – Tegan
Listening to friends gush about finding love grated on Tegan’s nerves, somehow. Sure, great thing they finally got to experience it, all thanks to Tegan and her introductions to great internet services.
Just a shame Tegan didn’t quite have that same luck. She mentally counted how many people she’d successfully got hooked up. Two people to shifters. Damn great catches and all. Eight women to men on Tinder, where she dispensed judgment and advice. Because people liked coming to her for advice. Something about confessing all your sins to the bartender, speaking them all out as the drinks were mixed.
She listened now to Keli sobbing over her nice, polished counter, about a boyfriend she should have ditched four years ago. “He keeps telling me he’s going to change. And every time, I believe him… like an idiot!” A few of the other patrons stared curiously, but otherwise left them alone in the small but crowded bar. Coal-dark hair spilled over the encounter and little feathery portions stuck up from the back of Keli’s head. She always did spend more money on her hair and looks than on anything else.
“Anthony’s always had problems like this. You know that, sweetie.” Tegan offered a rather awkward pat on the shoulder. Keli’s hand lashed out like a snake, holding Tegan’s fingers tight.
“I know. But I love him so much! We’ve been together so long, and he can still be so lovely and so wonderful and I want to spend the rest of my life together with him.”
“Mm-hm.” Tegan attempted to extricate her hand from Keli, who clung on like a limpet. Seemed Keli had a deceptively strong grip with the potential to break fingers. “I understand that it’s really important for you to be able to have someone who is faithful and doesn’t use drinking as an excuse for their bad behaviors, either.”
Keli finally lifted her rather puffy face from the counter, also leaving a darkened, wet duo of patches beneath. “Yes. That’s… that’s important, too.”
“I think you know deep inside whether it’s a good idea or not to remain with him. Because it doesn’t look like he’s changing at all, does it?”
At this, some of the light left Keli’s eyes, and Tegan recognized it as a sign of someone entering the pit of their own delusions once more. “I can’t just give up, though. What kind of woman would I be if I gave up at some kind of resistance? Men are meant to be saved. We’re meant to change them.”
At this, Tegan decided she’d had enough of Keli. Enough of people insisting they stay in shitty relationships and in misery just for a bunch of what-ifs.
Both of her parents became much happier people when they divorced. They stayed together for Tegan, but there were cracks everywhere that got worse over time, until the whole thing came tumbling down, leaving the relationship in dust and debris.
Yet they became better people after that. Better parents to her. It taught her quite early on that it was pointless for both people to stay in something that made them unhappy. Sometimes the best thing was to step away, take a breath of fresh air, and begin again. Both parents were now happily married to new people. Her stepmother was the one who helped Tegan get into the bartending business in the first place, and the stepdad built the counter in Tegan’s home.
All in all, a pretty decent arrangement. So listening to idiots like Keli blubber about their clearly toxic relationships really grated on Tegan’s nerves. Still, she smiled, nodded, comforted, and acted as the perfect bartender. She did eventually manage to extract her hand from Keli and service other patrons, often being asked to mix something for them.
They took Tegan’s skills for granted, but they didn’t know she’d actually studied for them. Mixology was a thing. She even went to European bartender school in her gap year and took some online courses. She attended beer festivals and went to workshops and studied the history of the cocktail.
Tegan was damn well serious about the work. She had aspirations to open her own bar one day, complete with a juicy menu, and to create her own alcohol. She already had a small allotment outside of town, rented by the month, and grew hops and some grapes, and was in the process of fermenting apples, rice, and honey. She wanted to grow juniper berries for gin, look into the Mexican agave plant for tequila, and maybe start whiskey, though a good, decent whiskey took years. Why not some rum as well? Sugar and molasses. So many drinks. So many different methods to make them. It excited her. She could use the grapes for wine, and then distill to make brandy.
Soon she obtained the confession of a drunken man, unhappy in his relationship, feeling like his girl didn’t care enough for him to make his life feel worth it. Then another one came along just before midnight, complaining, while drinking Tegan’s Green Death, about the fact that all the women nowadays seemed to be just looking online for love, rather than at what was in front of them.
To which Tegan replied, “You know, you can do the same yourself if you want. Maybe people just want to have connections outside of Whitefall Creek. Imagine if you got in contact with someone else from another state. That means maybe you could visit them or explore more about that place.”
The man let out a little snort. “We should just stick to our own areas. People always looking beyond, when everything they need is right here.”
Yes, Tegan thought wryly, wrinkling her nose against the smell emanating from him, like a mix of rotten cabbage and chewed-up cigarettes. I’m sure people will find everything they need in you. “All the same, you shouldn’t dismiss it. Sometimes the best thing to learn is if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” She didn’t offer a smile, because she knew people like this sometimes got the wrong impression, like the smile was a sign of sexual interest. Didn’t seem to matter.