Rancher Dragon, Terry Bolryder [acx book reading TXT] 📗

going to give to another living person. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled it from his pocket, shoving his hand up toward the looming shadow above him that wore a raincoat and muck boots.

“Take this,” he growled. The dragon in him, though wounded, wasn’t giving up the fight, but Beck felt he knew better.

“What happened? Why is there so much blood?” The person’s voice was higher pitched than what he’d been accustomed to at Dragonclaw. Much nicer.

Beck felt what seemed like a hand brush his knuckles, and he thrust the coin into the person’s palm, glad when he felt the other person take it.

“Get this to Harrison at Dragonclaw Ranch,” he said with a rasp.

“But what about you? We should get you help.” The person, which was still just a vague shape to Beck’s eyes, kneeled over him, and he tried to focus. Tried to see who he was looking at. But his eyes just weren’t working right now.

The rain didn’t help either, covering them both in a heavy, unstopping blanket of cold wetness.

“Tell Harrison… Tell him… Beck ain’t coming back this time.” With that, Beck’s outstretched arm went limp, and he collapsed back into the mud. He heard pacing footsteps, then the person’s hands shoving him, trying to rouse him.

But Beck had already accepted his fate. He wasn’t really made like the others at Dragonclaw anyway. He was dangerous. Everyone else knew it, and he knew it too.

Sometimes dangerous things needed to just go back into the earth.

It would be better like this, probably.

At least he’d gotten a bigger piece out of the basilisk than it had gotten from him; that was for sure.

More talking and movement around him. And as the rain started to slowly clear in the heavens above, Beck’s senses finally slipped into the unknowing blackness he’d been waiting for.

The last thing he heard was, “Don’t you die on me!”

2

He was alive. Thank heaven almighty, he was alive.

The huge man lying on the bed in front of Sierra was still unconscious, his face in tense repose. But his immense, muscled chest was rising and falling despite the blood soaking his clothing and skin.

The rain had made it look worse than it was, thankfully. In fact, what had seemed to be huge gashes on his arms and chest were already healing as his friend looked him over carefully.

“You say you found him out on the range?” Harrison, a tall cowboy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, was eyeing her suspiciously.

She didn’t blame him. She hadn’t ever met her neighbors, so he couldn’t know they’d lived bordering each other’s land for a long time.

“On my land,” she said, twisting her hands together nervously. “He fell unconscious. After he told me to give you that coin and tell you he wasn’t coming back.”

Harrison pulled Beck’s eyelids back, checking his pupils, then released them. “Ain’t escaping us that easy, Beck.” He sighed in relief as he took a step back.

“Here.” Harrison’s wife, Marian, a curvy brunette with hazel eyes and a sweet smile, came into the room and handed her a cup of coffee.

They’d been introduced when Sierra came to the door to deliver Beck’s message.

“Thank you,” Sierra said, gratefully sipping the coffee. She was soaked to the bone from her swift ride to get help. But it had been worth it to make sure this beautiful man made it.

And he was beautiful, despite his immense size. Before he’d passed out, she’d caught a glimpse of the most amazing irises. She’d thought it was just a reflection of the stormy sky, but when Harrison had pulled back the man’s eyelids, she’d confirmed it.

Pure silver gray. Like storm clouds covering sunlight.

The rest of him was beautiful as well. Though he was huge, with a stern set to his face, short, masculine hair, and a short but full beard, there was something about him that just set her at peace.

Even if he could probably throw her over a fence with ease.

His nose was beautiful and straight, his jaw hard and firm. His lips, in contrast to the beard, oddly soft and kissable.

But why was she even thinking something like that?

The last thing she needed was a boyfriend. And this man, who had the audacity to almost bleed to death in front of her, wasn’t auditioning for the job.

But still… she could imagine it. Having a man this big, this beautiful for her own. Working her spread with him. He could probably reach—

“This is yours,” Harrison said, handing her back the odd silver coin she’d given him. There was a long slash over the middle as if something extremely sharp had scratched across it.

“Oh, no,” she said, putting up both hands. “I couldn’t. He expressly said to give it to you.”

Harrison, who was as handsome as his friend but unbearded, shook his head and pushed the coin into her hands. “I told you. It’s yours. He owes you a favor.”

At that moment, Beck woke up in the bed, looking around in a panicked fashion. His silver eyes were even more astonishing when wide with surprise. And then they landed on her and narrowed.

“Who are you? Why do you have my coin?” He practically snarled.

“Well, damn, Beck. Way to thank your rescuer,” Harrison said.

Above his beard, the big man apparently known as Beck flushed. Then he lowered his head. “She wasn’t supposed to save me. Just tell you I was dead.”

Harrison snorted. “I’d punch you if there weren’t ladies present. Beck, if she hadn’t come and gotten me, you would have bled to death in that rain.”

Beck pushed himself up to a half-sitting position against the headboard, groaning and putting a hand to his side. “Lady, you should have left me there.”

Her chest tightened. “I’m sorry.”

His expression softened, and he dropped his eyes to the sheet that half covered his body. “Well, thanks for getting my friend like I asked.” His serious eyes met hers, and she felt a spark of electricity travel between them. “But you should give that coin back