Her Dragon Captor (Her Dragon King Duet Book 1): 50 Loving States, North Dakota Pt. 1

by Theodora Taylor

  On the one hand, I’m the Queen of a pack now. I don’t want or need my boyfriend rushing to my rescue every time one of my new subjects gets irate. But on the other hand, it kind of would have been nice to, you know, have to tell him that, because he had rushed to my rescue.

  But, no, no…bad Ola. I can’t say I want a boyfriend who trusts me to handle my shit, but then get mad when he actually does. Thinking like that is how us Viking Wolf descendants end up in relationships filled with drama and time-travel.

  And Drama Free 100 relationships take work, I remind myself as I resume walking toward my best chance at a normal marriage. I push through past the well-wishers, offering me beads in exchange for a peek at my now queenly tits and saunter up to my tall Ghanaian wolf.

  “Hey, Akwasi, you pissed I didn’t bring you up on stage with me?” I ask, giving him a playful shove. “You want a crown, too?”

  “Nah,” he answers, shoving me back, but not nearly as hard. The apologetic smile he gives me makes him even more handsome. “This just isn’t my scene, Ola, that is all. It is…over the top.”

  I hold on to my smile, but my wolf crooks its head inside of me.

  He has a right to his opinion, I remind her. Even if that opinion completely dismisses the fete my uncles and I spent the last five months planning and doesn’t exactly scream supportive boyfriend.

  But…compromise…understanding…giving—isn’t that what my fathers insisted it takes to make their marriage with my mom work after all the drama was done?

  I decisively shove down my wolf and take Akwasi by the hands. “Hey, why don’t you go up to my suite and wait for me there?” I suggest with a flirty smile. “I know I said I wanted to wait until I went into heat for real, but tonight I feel like celebrating.”

  Akwasi’s eyes light up at the word “celebrating.” He’d been a perfect gentleman about not having any sex until now. He’d even said that spending quality time with me was better than any hook-ups he could be having with his human groupies—which I believe, thanks to my spybot. But he’s still a male wolf with needs. Needs I wouldn’t mind meeting tonight.

  I already know he’s the one I want to breed me when I go off heat control, and as the newly crowned Queen of North Dakota, my people will expect me to produce an heir for my own throne soon. No, I’m not off heat control yet. But… “Why not commemorate my coronation with a decommission of my virgin status?

  “Are you sure?” Akwasi asks, his tone considerate but eager.

  I smile up at him. No, it’s not quite love I’m feeling for him yet, but it’s definitely a strong case of getting there. And as for my virginity—ugh face emoji, it was such an outdated concept anyway, even for she-wolves who literally can’t get spontaneously wet until we go into heat. I’m on the back end of my twenties now, and this new queen title means I have zero use for anything that would get me labeled an innocent girl.

  “Yeah, I’m totally sure. I want to. I want to with you.” I hold his gaze, liking the way his deep brown eyes soften at my words.

  But then a hesitant look clouds over his tender expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Before you came over, I received a message. My silent investor is in town,” he answers with another apologetic smile. “I must stop by and talk to him, even if it is just for a few minutes.”

  “Oh,” I say, not quite knowing how to feel about that.

  Akwasi opened a club called the Wolf Lounge a few months ago, shortly after Fargo became an unexpected hot spot, thanks to Go Gutierrez and Barron Calson deciding to establish a branch of GoBionics there. Akwasi bet both his and his silent investor’s money that a hot night club would give both the influx of tech workers and his sports fans somewhere to go after work and games, and that bet had paid off.

  The Wolf Lounge became very successful and very popular seemingly overnight. And yeah, I’m enough of a businesswoman to know, you definitely want to stay sucking up to your biggest investor, so I understand why he would want to pay his respects. Still, a pang of some unfamiliar emotion went through me.

  “You scheduled a meeting on the night of my coronation?”

  “It was very unexpected,” he answers, his expression becoming even more contrite. “I only found out he was here a couple of hours ago.”

  “You can’t just tell him you already have plans?” I ask, my tone tight with all the annoyance I’m trying to suppress to keep our relationship drama free.

  “No, I can’t,” Akwasi responds as if I’ve asked if he can keep the sun from coming up tomorrow morning.

  Anger, hurt, and disappointment snap through me. “Wow, okay…” I’m livid, but this is technically our first fight, like, ever, which makes me unsure of how to handle his refusal.

  Old Ola would have cursed Akwasi straight out and called “next” to the first available hottie while walking away. But new Ola is trying for a healthy relationship, and I have the feeling that following my instinct to huff off and grab some new guy to grind on won’t win me any good communication awards.

  As if sensing my dilemma, Akwasi cups my shoulders. “Come with me. It will only take a few minutes to get there in my drone and talk to him, then we’ll come right back here for cake…and other things. Please, Ola, I don’t want to be without you. Even for an hour.”

  I hesitate. I like that Akwasi doesn’t want to be without me, though, even for an hour. That’s how real couples work, right?

  I wait for a “hell yeah, that’s right!” from my wolf, but it doesn’t come. We’re not on the same page about Akwasi. She’s not being a bitch about it, not wilding out like the wolves of my cousins Rafes and Nago, who have both been diagnosed with an emotional shifting disorder. But she’s not standing up at the prospect of other things either. Not like she did when I grabbed Damianos Drákon’s junk. My human wants this more than she does.

  Maybe that’s why weird feelings tremble through me now. Ones so unfamiliar, I have to examine them carefully in order to attach labels: uncertainty… anxiety… dread… the opposite of my usual zero fucks, YOLO 100 setting. My wolf doesn’t want to go with him to his club. Even for just a few minutes.

  C’mon, this is Akwasi, I remind her. The sweet b-ball player who actually had trouble looking me in the eye when he asked me out. His shyness reminded me of my mother and my sister, Fensa.

  With a pang, I think of the twin who can’t be here tonight, because she and her family are in hiding on an island that I’m only allowed to visit once every six months.

  Before Fensa got yanked into and came back from the really long ago past, I was the co-dependent twin. It used to be that I’d whine if my sister didn’t make time to see me twice a month, even though we were living in separate states. Those two weeks she’d gone missing had been the worst of my entire life. But now I can only see her twice a year.

  Plus, as long as I’d been dreaming about my coronation, the one thing I never imagined was her not being here for it. But she isn’t. And I miss her. So much, my chest feels like it’s cracking if I let myself think on it too long.

  So I don’t.

  I concentrate on what I do have. Like this crown on my head. And this thing with Akwasi.

  With that thought in mind, I flick my eyes back up to meet his. I like him, and he likes me. My wolf is just being silly. Resisting all the changes that come with deciding to take on a crown and a possible mate. A really cool, drama-free mate.

  “Okay,” I say softly. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Five

  By the time we make it to Akwasi’s club, I decide this detour is a good thing.

  Coronations are more for the people than the royals anyway. They’re something we do to give them good memories forever of the time we took the throne. Neither my old Michigan nor my new North Dakota pack needs me there to have a good time.

  Plus, I have to drone down to Mississippi early tomorrow morning. I promised my time-traveling Viking era Aunt Myrna (such a long story), that I’d attend her vow renewal to my cou
sin Rafes (another long story). And I never, ever break my promises.

  Even if, as I mentioned before, Rafes hardcore hates my guts. For silly reasons, really. All I did was everything in my power to keep his anti-dragon North Dakota black box project from going through, before helping his awesome Viking mate, Myrna, almost wolf divorce his undeserving ass.

  It made their marriage stronger if you ask me. But did he thank me?

  No! He decided to hate me forever—which means, I’ve definitely got to show up at his wedding wearing my new North Dakota crown, right?

  I might be turning over a new leaf when it comes to my romantic relationships, but c’mon, I’m still Ola. And I have no plans to stop being a pain in my president cousin’s ass any time soon.

  A petty giggle escapes me at the thought of the look on Rafes’ face when he sees me, sitting front and center at his wedding as we approach the club’s VIP section.

  Which is why I’m smiling when I look up to meet Akwasi’s silent investor for the first time. But that smile disappears when I see him.

  Damianos Drákon.

  He’s sitting by himself in the choicest VIP booth, large and imposing, even though he’s not standing up. He doesn’t have a bunch of human girls in the booth with him, like most of the other men, both human and werewolf, who reserve tables in The Wolf Lounge’s VIP section would.

  It’s just him here. But just him feels even more ominous.

  My wolf picks up his scent, hold it in my lungs. Fire. He smells like a blazing night fire. Dark, smoky, and crackling with dangerous flames.

  A low growl vibrates through my body as he becomes the center of our awareness. And my wolf once again feels like she’s rising to her feet. To run or fight. I’m not sure.

  He doesn’t stand to greet us when we stop in front of his low table. In fact, he exudes an expectant air. North American Kings and Queens don’t require any kind of formality. Hell, my cousin, Nago, lets everyone in both the states where he’s the alpha call him Nags. But I suspect Damianos Drákon would be entirely comfortable if Akwasi and I decided to drop to our knees and bow.

  God, he is enormous. I recall the last time I saw him in person. The way he’d towered over Fensa, me, and her son, Eos.

  He regards me now, his light brown eyes running over my sparkling dress, and the crown perched on top of my long straightened hair at a jaunty angle. And I regard him right back with my chin high in the air… hating the way my hidden wolf is whimpering inside of me.

  He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. He radiates evil, but his face has more symmetries going on than a 100% geometry quiz.

  And his body…well, let’s just say I think of the Colossus of Rhodes, the fallen seventh wonder they reconstructed a few years back when I look at him. This guy doesn’t just remind me of a Greek statue but the largest damn statue in the ancient world.

  Ancient.

  Yes, that’s the word to describe him. To other people in the club, he probably appears to be a businessman in his thirties, rocking a dark beard, and finely attired in a tailored suit. Here to have some fun just like all other rich guys in VIP.

  But I know the real deal. He’s millenniums, not decades old. A trillionaire who’s neither human nor werewolf. And if he’s here in North Dakota, it’s not in search of fun. Or to check in on his investment.

  I stare at him. He stares at me.

  Somewhere in the distance, Akwasi is saying, “Hey, Mr. Drákon, this is my baby, Ola…”

  And somewhere in the distance, the huge sun god statue answers, “Ola and I have met.”

  My head pulses with a strange pushing pressure. Like something other than my wolf is trying to crawl inside of me.

  “We should go,” I say to Akwasi. Even to my ears my voice also sounds far away.

  “No, Ola, you should stay,” Damianos says. His voice sounds like black syrup poured over pancakes as he transfers his piercing gaze from me to Akwasi. “You two will dance. I will watch.”

  “I don’t want to dance.” My answer is firm and final, but it only seems to amuse Damianos.

  “Go ahead, Ola, have your fun,” he says as if I hadn’t protested at all. “I’ll wait.”

  “C’mon, Ola, let’s dance,” Akwasi says. Then he’s pulling me toward the dance floor, like us getting down is the most urgent mission in the world right now.

  “Stop, let me go!” I try to yank my arm away, but Akwasi has it in a vice-grip. I’m a big, bodacious woman. Not just tall, but also a couple of hundred pounds and some change. But Akwasi is an elite athlete and a male wolf. He’s stronger than me, and we’re on the dance floor before I can put up much of a struggle.

  “We’ve got to go,” I tell him as he pulls me into an old-fashioned ballroom pose, even though a Trap Metal song is blasting overhead. “I can’t stay here. I’ve got to tell my uncles that Damianos Drákon is—”

  I stop, realizing that my uncles are no longer the go-to royals for threats against our kingdom. No, that would be me. The freshly minted North Dakota queen. It was on me to deal with the dragon who’d nearly killed both my fathers and my aunt back in the Viking day. A dragon whose threat was so dire, my sister’s mate had insisted on going into hiding lest he finds them.

  Shit, I realize, with a sinking heart. This situation is beyond what I can handle. I would have to reach out to Rafes.

  “I need to make a comm,” I tell Akwasi, pulling my hands down so that I can ell Rafes.

  For the first time ever, I’m more annoyed than proud that Rafes completely bioblocked me a few months ago, because I pissed him off so bad. Usually, that’s something to brag about at dinner parties, but in this case, him hating my guts means I can’t just send him a quick biomessage like I would anyone else. I’ve got to ell him and hope to my mother’s God, and my fathers’ Fenrir Wolf, that he accepts my comm request—

  “No comm rings!” Akwasi barks when I ell my fingers to make a view screen. Then he yanks the titanium comm rings off my fingers before I can make the comm request!

  “What the hell, Akwasi? Give me back my rings!”

  He doesn’t give me back my rings, and when I try to make a grab for them, he yells, “NO COMM RINGS!” and pushes me. Like, he legit shoves me backward. Hard. Not playfully like before at my coronation.

  I nearly fall, and when I regain my feet, there’s no flirt in his eyes. None of the gentle shyness I remember. More than a few of the humans on the dance floor are staring at us now. A few of them have lit up recording rings behind their right eyes…and yep…there it is, already trending on my human news biofeed.

  Look at this!!! World Basketball Association Superstar @therealAkwasi fighting with his girlfriend at his club right now!!! …with an accompanying link to the live feed.

  Ugh face emoji! What the hell was Akwasi thinking, snatching my rings like that and pushing me so hard?

  “It’s time to go,” he says, shoving the rings into his jacket pocket. His voice sounds dull like he didn’t just kill a bunch of endorsement deals by publicly laying hands on his girlfriend in his own nightclub.

  Time to go. My brain chews on the command. No, I don’t want to go anywhere with him. But humans might not be the only ones recording. I just got crowned the Queen of North Dakota. And though I try to keep it zero fucks always, gotta admit this ain’t a good look for my very first twenty-four hours on the throne.

  In the end, I draw myself up to my full height and raise my chin high. I walk with him out of the club, silently vowing to cuss him all the way out as soon as we get inside his soundproof drone.

  However, when we reach the back of the club, there’s a car parked in front of Akwasi’s two-person sports drone, blocking our access to it.

  And this car isn’t driverless like the one I hired to take me from Florida into the no-drone state of Mississippi for tomorrow’s triple vow renewal ceremony. It’s long and dark, and there’s a young man seated behind its steering wheel. So it’s manual, like the vintage Cadillac Escalade I drive, but way older
. I can hear and smell the growling engine underneath. It runs on diesel, which makes me wonder if it even has a computer system.

  And if that’s not creepy enough, the back door opens. and Damianos Drákon steps out.

  My heart slams into my chest wall at the sight of him, his expression as hard and unforgiving as the black pavement beneath our feet.

  “Hello again, Ola.”

  Chapter Six

  Damianos Drákon closes the car door behind him and rises to his full height. Large and so much more imposing than when he was sitting down. He’s got to be at least seven feet. Maybe even taller. His shadow is so long, it stretches past both of us, underneath the parking lot’s lights.

  Shift! My wolf screams at me. This time, she’s not even a smidge confused about what needs doing. If I have any chance of winning a fight with this dangerous seven-foot plus dragon, I’ll have to get into wolf form—

  Akwasi moves beside me, and the next thing I know he's fastening something around my neck that closes with a softly hissed click.

  What the…

  I reach up to feel the thing he clipped around my neck. It’s not a necklace…it’s some kind of band. Cool and smooth and completely ungiving. It doesn’t choke me, but it’s fastened so tight I can’t get my fingers underneath it so that I can pull it off with the force of my wolf strength.

  I can’t see the band, but I know what it is in the next instant when my biosystem abruptly powers down inside of me without so much as a systems failure warning.

  Fear rolls through me like a dark tide. Oh fuck, it’s a biocollar! A device human police officers put on suspects to keep them from accessing their biosystems while they're under arrest. However, us wolves use biocollar a little differently. Our biocollars don’t just shut down our biosystems, they also keep weres from hard shifting into their wolves when we need to detain them. Some weres also use them to keep from shifting when there’s a full moon.

  My wolf whines inside of me, wanting to help but unable to come out.