Alpha Dragon’s Tiger

  The Dragonfate Games

  Hawke Oakley

  Contents

  Hawke’s Newsletter

  1. Taylor

  2. Crimson

  3. Taylor

  4. Crimson

  5. Taylor

  6. Crimson

  7. Taylor

  8. Crimson

  9. Taylor

  10. Crimson

  11. Taylor

  12. Crimson

  13. Taylor

  14. Crimson

  15. Taylor

  16. Crimson

  17. Taylor

  18. Crimson

  19. Taylor

  20. Crimson

  21. Taylor

  22. Crimson

  23. Taylor

  24. Epilogue: Crimson

  Also by Hawke Oakley

  Copyright © 2023 by Hawke Oakley

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Hawke’s Newsletter

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  One

  Taylor

  "Excuse me, young man. Does this fabric make my butt look fat?"

  It took me a second to realize the older woman in the aisle was speaking to me. As the stranger's voice pulled me out of focus, I withheld a sigh. I’d been mentally cataloguing patterns and running calculations for my next quilt. Now all the information floated away like dandelion fluff. I'd have to do it all over again later.

  "I'm sorry," I said, turning to the woman. "What was that?"

  The woman held up a piece of blue cotton fabric against her rump. "I said, does it make my butt look fat? Sexy, even?"

  I was not the best judge of what looked sexy on an older woman. Not because I was a gay omega, but because I was single—and had been for a very long time. The data was clear. I was undesirable, and therefore, not well-versed in the sexiness scale.

  Still, the lady had asked me a question. Unfortunately, I was the only other person in the aisle, so it would be rude to ignore her.

  "Does it make your buttocks look fat?" I repeated bluntly, wondering if she heard how ridiculous it sounded coming out of someone else's mouth.

  But she was unflappable. "Yes, dear. That's the question."

  "Do you... want it to make your buttocks look fat?"

  "Yes! Big butts are all the rage, you know. And I must look good for my date next week."

  I felt like a deflated balloon. Even large-rumped older women at the quilting store had dates.

  Good for her, I thought genuinely.

  Other people might have been jealous. But not me. There was no point in being bitter about other people's lives. Nobody likes a sourpuss, my alpha father used to say.

  Back when I actually spoke to him.

  "Dear?"

  The woman's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, except it was welcome this time. She watched me expectantly.

  "Er, yes, ma'am," I said. "That fabric compliments your... behind quite nicely."

  She brightened and laughed. "Oh, aren't you the sweetest! Then two yards of this blue fabric it is. Thank you."

  She went to pick up the bolt of fabric, but struggled to carry the huge roll. It was a scene I'd witnessed time and time again at the quilting store—someone small tried to lift a bolt and dropped it, sending yards of fabric spilling all over the floor.

  "Here, ma'am." I lifted the bolt easily over my shoulder.

  She sighed in relief. "You're my superhero today, aren't you?"

  "Not at all."

  "Nonsense. Look at those big shoulders and strong muscles! A strong young alpha like you must get plenty of action."

  I tried to hold back my wince, but the woman must've noticed. She frowned in concern. "Oh, sorry, dear. Did I say something wrong?"

  "No." I placed the bolt on the cutting table. I caught the eye of a nearby employee and waved her over. "There you are, ma'am. Hope that helps."

  The older woman opened her mouth to say something but I walked away quickly, hoping she'd get caught up chatting with the employee.

  Once I was out of earshot, I was off the hook. I returned to the fabrics I'd been looking at.

  Honestly, her assumption didn't upset me that much. At least, I tried to tell myself it didn't. Because of my powerful shoulders and stoic nature, I was frequently mistaken for an alpha. But the real reason my body looked the way it did was because I was a Siberian tiger shifter. Our animal forms were so muscular and strong that even omegas of our kind took on those traits. There was nothing I could do about it.

  But I didn't expect a stranger to know that at a glance. It was easier to let people think what they wanted instead of explaining the truth. Especially since, in our society, humans and shifters lived together. Often I didn't know whether the strangers next to me in public were human or not. I'd rather cut off my nose than explain my whole life story to a human: Yes, I'm an omega, not an alpha. Yes, I know I'm bigger than most omegas you know. Yes, it's because I'm actually a tiger. No, I don't react to catnip...

  That wasn't true. But humans didn't need to know that.

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my broad nose. What was I doing again?

  Right. My fabrics. I was in the section of blue cottons, figuring out a pattern for my new quilting project. I'd felt close to a breakthrough when that woman asked for my input, so now I had to think it through all over again.

  I ran my hand absentmindedly over the bolts of blue fabric. They were all gorgeous, like the sky or ocean. But they didn't really shine beneath the fluorescent lighting in the shop. I'd need to buy them and take them home to my little sewing room to see their true beauty. It was a cramped room in my small apartment, but it was where the magic happened. And it was mine.

  "Royal blue next to cobalt blue," I murmured. "Maybe with a baby blue for the binding..."

  "Blue this, blue that. How 'bout red?"

  Another interruption shattered my concentration, but this time it was gratingly familiar. I'd recognize Muzo's voice anywhere.

  Before I could turn to look at him, he grunted and dropped a big bolt of red fabric on top of all the blues.

  "Geez, that's freakin' heavy!" Muzo grumbled. "How do all the little old ladies shop here?"

  I gently pinched his small bicep. "They're all stronger than you, apparently."

  "Ouch! Hey, knock it off, I'm not that weak!" Muzo pouted and put his hands on his hips.

  Muzo was an omega shifter, too. His animal form was a black-backed jackal, which meant his human form was lithe and wiry—and much smaller than me. He looked like a typical omega standing at a cute five-foot-five with narrow hips and a slight frame. But he made up for his size with his obnoxious personality and loud mouth.

  "So?" Muzo prompted. "Red? We're going with red, right?"

  "We are not going with anything. In case you forgot, I'm the one who quilts, not you."

  Muzo shrugged. "Meh. How hard could it be?"

  "Try it and then we'll talk," I mumbled.

  He ignored me and pushed the red bolt of fabric closer to me with an expectant look.

  "I'm not using that," I told him bluntly.

  "What? Why not? It's a nice fabric. And look, it's red. Don't you love red? Doesn't it remind you of the blood of your prey?" Muzo teased.

  "Keep your voice down," I growled.

  Shifters and humans may have lived together in relative harmony, but that didn't mean it was a utopia. I was conscious of the fact that some humans didn't understand shifters—and when humans didn't understand something, that feeling could easily warp into fear or hatred. Especially of predator species like ours.

  "Yeah, yeah," Muzo said, waving me off. "So you don't like it?"

  "Red is garish. Put it back."

  "Pfft. Garish... Such a drama queen."

  I stared at him, pointedly raising my eyebrow.

  Muzo relented. "Fine, suit yourself. Makin' me carry this heavy thing all the way... Oh gods, my back..."

  It was ironic that he called me a drama queen when he was the most over-the-top creature I'd ever met in my life. He made a big, pathetic display of trying to pick up the bolt. It was so pathetic that I sighed and took over.

  As I hauled the bolt over my shoulder, Muzo grinned. "Aw, thanks, bud! You're a lifesaver. Now if you don't mind, this store is boring me to tears, so I'm gonna check out the cafe next door. Meet me later, okay? See ya!"

  I sighed in relief as Muzo darted out the door. Now that he was out of my hair, I could finally look at the damn fabrics in peace. I hadn't even invited Muzo to go shopping with me today. It was like he had a sixth sense for knowing where his friends were so he could annoy them. I wished he had more friends so it wouldn't constantly be me.

  Just as I put Muzo's displaced red fabric back into its proper place, I heard a yelp and a crash from another aisle.

  As a tiger, my reflexes were fast.
Within seconds I'd dashed to the source of the sound—my other friend, Poppy, trying not to be crushed by a falling bolt. He shrank to the floor, covering his head with his arms, expecting the weight to drop on him, but I caught it just in time.

  "Oh, Taylor, you saved me," Poppy murmured, his big brown eyes wide. He was an Arctic wolf shifter, but his pleading gaze reminded me more of a deer, or a lamb.

  I pushed the bolt back to safety. "What were you thinking? This is too high up for you to reach."

  Poppy was sensitive, so unlike with Muzo, I spoke to him gently. Even still, Poppy hung his head like I'd admonished him.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you'd like it..."

  The fabric that had nearly crushed him into wolf-paste was a deep cerulean blue dotted with yellow stars. It was beautiful, and to my taste.

  I smiled. "Thanks, Poppy. It's perfect. Just tell me next time. I don't want you to die doing something nice."

  He glanced up with a shy smile, looking relieved.

  Poppy was an omega, too. Taller than Muzo, shorter than me. But even though he was a wolf shifter, he was unusually delicate. Combined with his soft personality, it made me wonder if he had a difficult past. Even his name was odd. But Poppy never liked talking about himself, and I never pressured him by asking, so Muzo and I didn't know.

  "Why don't you wait with Muzo at the cafe next door? I'll buy my things and we can grab lunch," I suggested.

  "Okay."

  He seemed pleased that I liked the fabric he chose. As he left, I watched him go to make sure he didn't accidentally get crushed by fabric bolts.

  When both my friends had evacuated the fabric shop, I sighed. I couldn't blame them for distracting me. It was my fault for not planning my quilt pattern before I arrived.

  "I'll figure it out at home," I mumbled to myself.

  I gathered the fabrics, had them cut, then paid. I withheld a choking sound when the cashier told me my total.

  Quilting was not cheap. But it was worth it.

  Besides, I had nothing better to spend my human currency on. I was single, had no children, and lived humbly. I had food, a roof over my head, a hobby, and a couple good friends.

  My life was fine.

  So why did it feel like something was missing?

  Holding my purchases, I walked out to the street. My nose wrinkled as traffic drove past. The acrid scent of car exhaust always bothered my sensitive nose. How did humans stand this? Then again, it wasn't like they could shift into a four-legged beast and travel that way. Not that we shifters could, either. Shifting into our animal forms in public was frowned upon, if not forbidden in certain places.

  "Hey, Tay!" Muzo called excitedly.

  He and Poppy were outside the cafe. There was a small crowd down the street behind them, but I couldn't see what the fuss was about.

  Muzo ran towards me. He thrust a small postcard-sized paper into my face. "Look at this!"

  I blinked. "What exactly am I looking at?"

  "You should enter your name!"

  "Muzo, what are you talking about?"

  Just as I tried to peek at the card, Muzo snatched it away. "It's a... quilting sweepstakes!"

  I perked up. "Quilting sweepstakes? Like a contest?"

  Muzo shifted on his feet, still grinning. "Not a contest. More like, you enter your name for a chance to win a huge quilting shopping spree!"

  I thought it was odd that the fabric shop wouldn't advertise a sweepstakes inside the store, but I had to admit, it piqued my interest.

  "Do I have to pay to enter?" I asked suspiciously.

  "Nope. Totally free! You know what? Me and Poppy will enter, too. That gives you more chances to win. Obviously, we'd give you the prize if we won, our dearest quilter."

  "We will?" Poppy asked softly. His brow creased in confusion.

  Muzo put his arm around Poppy's shoulder. "Yeah, definitely! I mean, don't we all win when our friend does?"

  "Um... I suppose," Poppy murmured.

  Muzo gasped. "Pops. I am shocked. You don't want Taylor to win a fabulous prize?"

  Poppy blinked and stammered, "I-I didn't say that!"

  "You want him to run out of fabrics. And needles. And yarn."

  "Quilting doesn't involve yarn," I grumbled.

  Muzo went on, giving Poppy a serious glance. "And whatever else quilters need. Is that what you want, Poppy? You want Taylor to suffer?"

  "No!" Poppy cried, as if this was an actual concern.

  "Then it's settled. All three of us will enter our names into the quilting sweepstakes." He thrust a fist into the air. "For Taylor!"

  People were starting to stare at Muzo's loudmouthed antics.

  I sighed. "Okay, don't make a scene about it. Give me the paper."

  Muzo thrust it over. The card stock was thick and creamy, the font bold. The text was stark black with gilded borders. Whoever had organized the sweepstakes clearly spared no expense for these entry cards.

  Which was odd, because quilting wasn't a particularly flashy hobby.

  I looked at the card closer. The bottom and sides were crisp, but the top of the card was feathered, almost like it'd been torn off.

  "Mine's like that, too," Muzo said, waving his own identical card. "It must be a design choice. It's thematically appropriate. It marries the robust nature of fabrics with the clean lines in your big patchwork quilts."

  I rolled my eyes. Now he was talking out of his ass, as usual. The sooner I put my name on this card and threw it in the running, the better.

  "Yours is like that, too, right, Pops?" Muzo asked.

  Poppy fiddled with the card in his hand. It too had the same feathered top and crisp edges. "Right..."

  Muzo nodded firmly. "See? Design choice."

  "Whatever. Give me a pen," I said.

  Muzo handed it to me. I scanned the card. The only details it wanted were my name and contact information.

  I glanced at Muzo. In the years I'd known him, the sneaky jackal could be... less than truthful. But his white lies never came to any real harm. Even if this entry card was suspicious, I doubted it involved anything dangerous. My best guess was that Muzo wanted to win a prize and needed two extra entries.

  In that case, why didn't he just ask? Dumb dog.

  I wrote down my name and information, handed Muzo the entry, then promptly forgot about the probably fictitious sweepstakes.

  Two

  Crimson

  Four months earlier...

  "No."

  "But—"

  "No," I repeated.

  My younger brother Saffron glared at me, his sunshine-yellow eyes narrowing into slits. "Why?"

  "Because it's utterly ridiculous. And stop glaring at me. It's not going to accomplish anything. Can you pass me that leg? No, not the half-eaten one."

  Saffron huffed as he passed me the raw sheep leg. The smoke that his nostrils exuded charred the meat, giving it a half-cooked scent.

  "I didn't ask for it to be medium rare, but thank you," I mumbled.

  "And I didn't ask for you to shoot down my amazing, world-changing idea without even a second thought," Saffron rebutted. "You're so close-minded sometimes, Crimson. Like a human."

  "Please, let's not stoop to that level," I said. "Besides, this is undoubtedly the worst idea anyone in the history of the planet has ever had."

  Saffron bit off a chunk of meat and swallowed. "Do they have theater awards for dragons? If so, you'd win first prize for how dramatic you are."

  "Settle down," a deep voice said.

  We both looked at our brother, Cobalt. Sheep bones lay beneath his claws. His massive form draped across the mountaintop, his blue scales glinting in the sunlight.

  He hadn't said a word since our argument began. Truthfully, I wished he had, so he could be on my side. As our eldest brother, he should've been responsible for shutting Saffron down.