Page 26 of Saving Her Dragon

Bringing his lips down to hers, the quiet afternoon shattered with their deep, fiercely passionate kiss. The heat between them instantly flared. The Mating Bond roared to life, turning their slow embrace into something hot, urgent, and consuming.

Sydney gasped against his mouth. Her hands gripped his shoulders as the world around them completely faded away.

Their passion grew. He never wanted it to stop. Sliding his hands under her T-shirt, Garrett gasped into their kiss as the electricity of their connection shot up his arm.

Deepening their kiss, he was just about ready to give them both what they longed for when a dry, highly authoritative voice suddenly echoed directly into Sydney's mind. “Get a room, you two. No public indecency, please. Don’t you dare embarrass me, young lady.”

Sydney bolted upright, her face instantly flushing a bright crimson. Her fingers flew to her lips as her eyes opened wide.

Garrett blinked, his pupils wide with heat, before he let out a frustrated groan, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He didn't even have to ask. He knew exactly what had happened. Through their shared Bond, he could feel Kara– the Dragon Queen with whom Sydney shared her soul– smirking from deep within his Mate’s soul.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, deep inside his own psyche, Han let out a heavy, dramatic sigh, his deep voice rumbling with exasperation. “Kids in love. No respect for common decency.”

Garrett let out a breathless, genuine laugh against Sydney’s skin, tightening his arms around her waist as she giggled beneath him. “I guess we embarrassed the old people, huh?”

“Yeah, you’d think they were never young,” he laughed, giving Sydney a quick kiss on the cheek.

When they finally walked back to the cottage that evening, the flannel blanket draped over Garrett’s shoulder, a profound sense of normalcy settled over him. He walked straight to the kitchen island, picked up the leather-bound notebook, and dropped it into the top drawer of the small writing desk in the corner.

Sydney paused near the hallway, noticing the definitive click of the wood. "No entry?"

Garrett shrugged, turning to her with a relaxed, easy smile. "Nothing to report."

Sydney smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "Coffee tomorrow?"

This time, there was absolutely no pause. No lingering weight, no hesitation. "Absolutely," Garrett said firmly. "That's the way we start the day, my love."

Sydney chuckled happily as she walked out of the kitchen, but stopped on the bottom step. "Oh, I almost forgot. How long are you planning to record yourself sleeping?"

Garrett grabbed his phone from the counter, flashing a dry smirk. "Until I become entertaining."

The next morning, the bedroom was bright with early light. Before they even went downstairs together to start the coffee, Garrett walked over to the corner. Climbing the step stool, he reached for the small black camera in the corner and flipped the power switch off.

Sydney stopped, her hand on the doorknob. "Did you change your mind?"

"Yep," Garrett said, climbing down then tossing his phone onto the unmade bed. "I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna juggle or do any magic tricks in my sleep."

It was a deliberate choice. For the first time since his rescue, Garrett truly believed he had regained total control of his body and his mind. The protocol had done its job. Whatever strange episode had plagued him appeared to have passed.

The morning went off without a hitch. He and Grey were out in the pasture closest to the main house, clearing the brush from a recent storm. They were tossing heavy, overflowing bags of yard clippings onto a designated burn pile, talking quietly about anything and everything—and nothing at all—as brothers are known to do. It was mundane, rhythmic, grounding work, and Garrett enjoyed every minute of it.

Grey reached down into the bed of the utility vehicle, pulling out a thick coil of coarse hemp rope. "Here. Tie off that last bundle so it doesn’t spill over."

"Got it," Garrett said, stepping forward.

Reaching out, he took the rope. The rough, abrasive texture of the fibers hit the center of his palm– and BAM! Everything changed.

The blinding daylight instantly vanished, swallowed by a cold, silver expanse of moonlight. He was looking down at his own hands. He wasn’t holding hemp rope. His fingers moved with intense, practiced dexterity, pulling a thin, vibrant strand of blue silk taut. He looped it. Tucked it. His fingers worked with practiced familiarity as he pulled a complicated, heavy knot tight against something solid.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the image slammed shut.

Garrett stumbled back a full foot, the hemp rope dropping from his hand into the dry grass. Panting, his chest heaving as the blazing Texas sun rushed back into his vision, his eyes burned, and he couldn’t catch his breath.

He couldn’t dismiss it this time. He couldn’t blame it on vertigo or a foggy mind. He remembered the oak tree. The moonlight was the exact same hue. The angle of his hand was identical. The striking blue fabric was the exact same color.

These fragments didn’t just feel similar– they belonged together. He knew that now with terrifying certainty.

Grey’s sharp eyes tracked the movement instantly. Dropping his side of the brush, his posture turned rigid as he stepped toward Garrett. "What happened? What did you see, Bro?"