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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, 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 is purely coincidental.
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Any sexual activity portrayed in these pages occurs between consenting adults over the age of 18 who are not related by blood.
Contents
Story Description
1. Chyna
2. Blaise
3. Chyna
4. Blaise
5. Chyna
6. Chyna
7. Chyna
8. Blaise
9. Chyna
10. Chyna
11. Blaise
12. Chyna
13. Blaise
14. Chyna
15. Blaise
16. Chyna
17. Chyna
18. Blaise
19. Chyna
20. Chyna
21. Blaise
22. Chyna
23. Chyna
24. Blaise
25. Chyna
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Fire Breathing Blaise
Dragons of the Bayou Book 3
Candace Ayers
Lovestruck Romance
Chyna Deschamps is on a mission to lose her virginity.
Everyone’s moving on: kids, minivans, white picket fences…and she’s stuck.
When she spends a hot night with a scorching dragon, he leaves his claiming mark on her. Now they’re mated—or so he thinks.
But, a little claiming mark won’t dictate her destiny. Chyna is not about to kowtow to any man. Ever.
Not even a sexy-as-sin dragon shifter who will do anything to win her heart.
1
Chyna
The band played zydeco music, a bluesy, R&B combined with a unique Louisiana bayou twang all its own. I half-listened to them warm up while sipping my margarita—strains of accordion, fiddle, and washboard, or frottoir, as the Cajuns called it. A margarita’d been a bad choice. Who’d’ve thought that a mixed drink from a hole in the wall with sawdust on the floor wouldn’t be delicious? What had I been thinking?
My twin sister was in pregnancy bliss while my closest work colleague was soon to tie the knot, and my knee-jerk reaction was to run out to the closest honkey tonk with a half-baked plan of throwing myself at the first literate and relatively well-groomed man that caught my eye? Stupid. So stupid. Although, I was willing to admit that perhaps it only seemed stupid because I’d been sitting at Barney’s Fais-do-do for over an hour and still the only man under the age of sixty was the bartender, who I knew from high school. If some hunk had walked in and caught my eye, it might have been an amazing plan.
If I was being completely honest, I wasn’t actually here because of anyone else—not Cherry who was having a baby and had found an amazing man to spend her life with, and not Carys Hubert, chair of the science department, who had posted a picture of her engagement-ring-clad left hand on Facebook and received over five hundred likes. I was here because of everyone else. Every single person in my life was moving on with theirs. Marriage, babies, white picket fences, and minivans. Everyone was growing up, and I was still a workaholic spending my free nights at home grading papers, planning PowerPoint slides for lectures, conducting research, or writing papers about my research. Sure, I’d had lots of dates, but no one special. Ever.
That’d been fine. I liked my life working a semester a year as a part-time adjunct professor at Lafourche Community College and taking freelance horticulture gigs. Most importantly, I was free and unencumbered—under no one’s thumb. I could go where I wanted and do what I wanted. Provided I wasn’t contracted to teach that semester, I could leave the country on a whim, and I often did. That was how I knew the margarita I was drinking was crap. The last margarita I’d had was in this tiny place on the coast of Mexico. It was said that the place was once owned by the man who invented margaritas, Carlos Herrera, himself.
At twenty-nine years old, I’d already lived a full life of travel and exploring. Yet, I was alone. I had Cherry, but she was starting her own family. There was no one else tying me down; nothing tethering me to anything. Which was awesome. Except, I felt as though my life had become stagnant. I’d been in a melancholic funk about it.
Somehow, I’d figured the best place to start moving on with my life and expanding my horizons was to lose my virginity and gain a little sexual prowess. Yes, there were plenty of men “friends” in my life who would have undoubtedly jumped at the chance to “pluck the bloom from my rose” so to speak, but going that route had the potential for complications. Men could get clingy, and I wasn’t looking for complications. Just a “one and done.” A “hit it and quit it.”
My plan was strictly in the interest of research. The idea of reaching the age of thirty and never having had sex seemed strange. Plus, what if I happened to meet the man of my dreams and I had no idea what to do in the bedroom? I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself. What if I sucked? Well, I supposed sucking would be a good thing. But I didn’t want to be a lousy lay.
Or, maybe I was just jealous of all the hot nights—and days—my twin sister seemed to be having lately. I wasn’t exactly sure why I’d thought it was what I needed to do, rushing out to a hole-in-the-wall bar to find an anonymous stranger to have sex with. It was remotely possible my brain was impaired from the vast quantities of sugar I’d been ingesting lately. Chocolate in every form: cake, cookies, all the candy I had ever wanted to try as a child. I was stuffing my face with whatever form of sweets I could get. I didn’t do melancholy well. I tended to try to smother it with sugar.
I sat back in my chair and looked around again. While there were a few men looking my way, they were mostly silver haired and potbellied. I didn’t mind older and more mature, but I drew the line at grandpa. Johnny, the bartender, was okay enough, but I couldn’t imagine having sex with him.
That was my problem in a nutshell, though. I’d been close enough to sex a few times, but I never could see it through. I wasn’t shy about my body. I wasn’t embarrassed by the act itself. I just…couldn’t get into it. I’d even wondered if I was gay, but I had even less attraction to women, so I had to rule out lesbianism. The men never seemed right no matter how much I wanted them to be. Maybe I was just broken. Oh, hell, of course, I was broken. So? Weren’t most people to some extent or another?
I pushed the margarita around on the table a bit, sliding the glass in its own sweat. I needed to just admit defeat and leave. There was always tomorrow. I could down the drink, go home, pour myself a glass of sweet tea, and eat a box of brownies. Those little fake kinds that came in the plastic wrapper and had cosmic candies on top… My stomach growled at the idea and I nodded to myself. Cosmic brownies, it was.
I stood up and walked over to Johnny at the bar. While he finished up with someone else, I focused on digging through my purse trying to locate my credit card. I finally found it, sandwiched between a couple baggies of plant samples, and pulled it out with a flouris
h.
My arm smashed into something hard, and I looked back to find an incredibly tall, incredibly handsome man wiping beer from his face. My eyes widened, and my mouth fell open, but my hands went to work. I grabbed the empty glass of beer from him and set it on the bar before snatching a handful of bar napkins to begin mopping him up.
“I am so sorry.” I glanced up at his handsome face and frowned. “I wasn’t paying any attention. I’ll get this dry-cleaned for you, if you want.”
His stony face cracked into a smile, and he shrugged. “It’s just a T-shirt.”
“Well, then, at least let me buy you another beer.” I motioned to Johnny, who immediately grabbed a glass and started pouring something from the tap. “Again, I’m so sorry.”
“Apology accepted, but not necessary. Nothing to worry about. I won’t melt.”
Well, he was hot enough to melt butter. If there were a few more women in the bar, they’d all be melting over this guy. Even I had almost softened. No melting for me, though. Not the broken woman. He was a stunner, but still I found myself looking toward the exit, thinking about ultra-processed, packaged brownies. To hell with my plan tonight. I just wanted to go home.
Johnny handed the man his beer and took my card from me, leaving me alone with the drenched stranger again.
“Thank you for the beer.” He started to walk away and then looked back at me. “Would you care to join me?”
I glanced toward the door once more and, out of the corner of my eye, spotted Johnny on his way back over with my card. I was aware that I was facing what could be a pivotal moment in my life. I was standing at a crossroads and, depending on the direction I took, the next few hours could be a turning point. I wanted to go home. But I was trying for something different—growth. I looked down at my feet and then back up at the stranger and shrugged. “Sure.”
He motioned to the bar. “Would you care for another drink?”
I nodded at Johnny that I’d take another margarita and then followed the stranger to a table in the back corner. I sank into the booth across from him and forced a smile. “I don’t recognize you from around here.”
“My name is Armand. I do not frequent such places often. I am trying something new.”
“Armand.”
He smiled a real smile then, showing all his teeth in a way that reminded me of swamp gators.
I glanced up as Johnny placed my drink down next to me, atop a fresh, square napkin, and then faded away. I wasn’t sure what to talk about. I felt out of place and like maybe I should’ve chosen to beat feet while I’d had the chance without seeming rude. Armand was good eye candy, hotter than hot, but I just wasn’t into him.
“What do hum—people do at places like this?”
My gaze shot back to him, and I narrowed my eyes. He’d been about to say humans. I knew it like I knew my own name. Was he a dragon, like Cherry’s new forever squeeze? Or was he maybe a different kind of creature? How did I ask something like that without sounding crazy?
“Are you okay?”
I nodded. In the interest of not looking like a complete lunatic, I supposed I’d just come out with strong hints. “So…my sister, Cherry, just met a guy named Cezar...”
Armand suddenly grinned wider. “Cezar’s mate, Cherry, is your sister?”
“Twin. So, I take it you know my sister? And Cezar?”
He nodded. “She still has not learned to exclude the rest of us when she tries to push her thoughts to Cezar. I am afraid I know way too much about your twin sister—and Cezar. We all do.”
I laughed, aware of what he was saying. Cherry, once mated to a dragon, had gained the ability to communicate telepathically but couldn’t get the hang of focusing so that she communicated her personal thoughts and feelings to Cezar alone. Instead, she tended to broadcast her private business to all the dragons. “So, I guess that means you’re a…dragon?”
He sat up and puffed his chest proudly, then nodded back at me. “As sure as I breathe fire.”
2
Blaise
Human bars. I did not like them at all. They smelled of male sweat and sour beer. The last several Armand had dragged us to had not even had any eligible women. We’d just ended up sitting around, drinking human beer that tasted like piss and didn’t do a thing to inebriate us. This time, I’d slipped a flask of Armand’s special brew into my pocket before leaving my castle, but that wouldn’t even be enough for me to pretend like I wanted to be at a human establishment searching for a life mate.
I flew into town with a knapsack of clothes in my mouth and landed a quarter mile from the bar before shifting into my human form. I’d been spending so much time as a dragon lately, flying high, that standing on two legs almost seemed foreign. After dressing, I headed toward the bar Armand had chosen. As I approached, I was overcome with an odd sensation that froze me in my tracks. After rolling my neck a few times and stretching my shoulders, I looked around for an explanation, a source to explain the feeling. There was something in the air that was prickling my skin and bothering my dragon. He was agitated and antsy, not completely uncommon for him, but there was an added edge of discomfort.
The closer I got to the bar, the more the sensations mounted. I mentally called out to Armand, knowing by scent that he was already in the bar. Brother, is everything copacetic inside?
Armand sounded downright cheery when he responded. Better than okay. This place contains a female. I told you this idea had merit. And the female is Cherry’s sister.
I blew out a sigh and ran my hands through my hair. One lone female. Wonderful, Armand.
I knew I needed to find a mate, and I had hopes of being able to do that, but while I was looking, there was a worried gnawing that felt a bit like boulders tumbling in the pit of my stomach. There was always the possibility that I would not find a mate in time and I would slowly lose my mind. If that happened, it would be hardest on my twin, Remy, having to put me down. The other dragons would, of course, leave the task to him. As unpleasant as it would be, he would view it as his duty. I didn’t want that, of course, but I had another fear.
What if I did find her and I wasn’t mate material? What if I wasn’t as different from my father as I’d always hoped?
I was not ready. I should have been thinking about it for the past hundred years or so, but I couldn’t help but avoid it. Remy felt the same way. Yet, we were both showing up at these idiotic search nights—SOS nights, as we’d deemed them—save our skins, because if we didn’t find mates by the eclipse, we’d lose our skins permanently. They’d become dragon hide.
As if on cue, Remy appeared at my side. “Bro.”
“Dick.” I was still angry at him for the stunt he’d pulled the week before. He’d challenged me to a wrestling match at my castle and then, when I was just about to emerge the victor, he’d taken out a wall. I’d been rebuilding it, but it took time to fly in supplies.
“Still pissy, I see?”
“Still thinking of paying you a visit and burning your castle down before I leave.”
“Do you really think I built my castle so flimsy and weak that your puny fire breath could damage it?”
“Probably.”
He shoved me, and I caught myself just before taking out the front door to the run-down tavern we were walking into. We were too big to go around leaning on tiny human things. The door looked like an average human male could break it down. The idea of it standing up to my weight was comical.
As I entered, I was overtaken by the same feeling I’d had crawling up my spine when I’d landed. The air in the bar spilled through the open door, and I had to shake my head to clear it. I glanced over at Remy, who seemed unaffected. “Do you feel that?”
He shot me a weird look and stepped ahead of me. “Feel what?”
Over the smell of sour beer was something else, something sweet. Like human desserts. Fudge brownies with vanilla cream icing. My stomach growled. Despite the sensation that I was walking into something serious, I couldn’t help fol
lowing the delicious aroma. I hoped there were brownies at this bar. They were so much better than piss beer.
I followed my nose, and Remy, to the back corner of the place and was just about to ask Armand if he was hiding dessert when Remy stepped aside and I found the source of the scent. Mate.
My dragon roared in my head, and I found myself tongue-tied as I stared down at the most beautiful female I’d ever seen. Dark eyes, brown skin, black hair. I instantly craved her. The unease of potentially walking into a dangerous situation transformed into gratitude. My dragon stretched and preened, readying himself to display his strength, battle worthiness, and sexual prowess to win over his female. I was barely able to keep from shifting.
I should have done something, said something, but I couldn’t remember what it was that one did in such a situation. Smile, sit down, shake hands, express greetings? I just stared. I was in shock. I did not expect it would happen for me today.
“Blaise?”
I blinked a few times and tried to jumpstart my brain. I had to do something.
Get it together, bro. You’re acting bizarre. Remy’s voice in my head did the trick.
As he started to slide into the booth next to my mate, I growled, grabbed the back of his shirt, and pulled him away from her, pushing him toward Armand instead.
Fire Breathing Blaise (Dragons of the Bayou Book 3) Page 1