Dragons and Magic

by Blair Babylon

  He was already mad as hell because his audit of the financial department had gone badly, exceedingly badly, so badly that he would certainly be firing Vishap and several other heads of departments for gross mismanagement. He might even bring charges against several more managers for embezzlement, if he could prove it.

  As he walked, Math ground his teeth, which were sharpening in his mouth into a carnivore’s fangs. Flames trickled down from the corners of his mouth, slipping inside his shirt and curling in his wake. He was quite literally hot under the collar.

  His dragon was awake and as angry as he was, snarling that someone dared siphon gold from his hoard. He needed to call the King and tell him what had been going on.

  Which was going to be a difficult conversation. The King and his dragon liked thieves about as much as Math and his did. Llywelyn had headed the dragon clan and run it like an ethical and profitable business. The dens’ accounts teemed with gold.

  Actually, the bank accounts teemed with black numbers, but the end result was the same.

  Math let himself into Smedley O’Tentacle’s office, still fuming, literally fuming. Wisps of ashy smoke escaped his nostrils. “I have a problem that needs to be addressed. Now.”

  The HR manager was scowling at his computer. “Let me guess, Mr. Draco. That entirely inexperienced witch that you hired to prepare the hotel for the angel investors isn’t working out and can’t do the job? Now you want me to hire somebody with experience and skills who can clean up this infernal mess? I checked her references. There are no references. She’s never had this level of a job in her life.”

  “No, that’s not the problem. As a matter of fact, she’s doing an amazing job. She had chimpanzees and lemurs swinging from the slot machines and banisters, cleaning up all the construction trash in the main lobby. Ferrets cleaned the penthouse suites. Even though it’s only been a week, this place already looks so much better.”

  “Did you hear about the glitterbomb that went off in Penthouse Four?”

  “I don’t know anything about that. I have a whole other problem, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  Smedley flopped back in his seat, somewhat bonelessly. “Fine, go ahead and tell the old human resources manager everything. Don’t be shy. I’ve heard it all.”

  “She’s an employee. I am the Chief Financial Officer.”

  “Excellent assessment of the situation, Mr. Chief Financial Officer.”

  “From what I understand, there are rules about employees of the casino dating each other.”

  The human resources manager sputtered and blew coffee over his desk. At least, Math assumed the dark droplets that splattered on the calendar were coffee, though there was only a clear glass of water on Smedley’s desk, no coffee cups. Smedley said, “There certainly are rules, and they sure as magic pertain to you, Mr. CFO.”

  Math flinched. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Why?”

  “I just really, really like her.”

  “Do you? Do you, really? I need you to tell me right now just how much you like her.”

  Math clenched his fists. Tendrils of fire leaked out of the corners of his mouth and warmed his lips. “Bethany is—she’s just—she’s really great. And she looks so cute when she’s concentrating so hard to do magic. And the little mice are cute, and she’s sweet with them.”

  “Lots of women are cute. Date one who isn’t working for you.”

  “It just feels different, somehow.”

  Smedley O’Tentacle lurched to his feet. He slapped one hand, which had half-transformed into a squid’s arm, down on his desk. His suction cups squelched moistly on the wood. “Oh, no. Not on my HR watch. I have to watch you sloppy shifters all the time—”

  “Hey, buddy. Watch that.”

  “—Because the second your hormones go crazy and you find your fated mate, suddenly HR rules don’t apply to you.”

  “I didn’t say she was my fated mate. I’m not even sure I believe in fated mates.”

  “You don’t have to believe in fated mates, Mr. Draco. It just happens.”

  “I would know if she was my fated mate. You can’t not-know something like that.”

  “The others don’t feel mating fever like shifters do, you know. You get a couple of extra points in their books, but you still have to win them over. The mates have to fall in love, whatever that is, and they have to choose to accept the mating. They have to surrender to it. Do you know how much trouble we could get in if you harass this woman and she doesn’t like it? Those laws are in place for a reason.”

  Math didn’t like the way this guy was talking about shifters. “You’re a shifter, too. Do you have something against shifters?”

  The HR guy leered at Math, and the irises of his eyes lengthened into horizontal bars. “Let me guess: you can’t get her off your mind. You’re finding all sorts of reasons to hang around her while she’s trying to work.”

  Math probably shouldn’t mention that his dick had been making a tent of his pants when he’d been asking Bethany to lie on the bed with him, or that he’d handed her a master key that would open any door in the entire casino, directly after he’d made sure she knew exactly which room and bed he would be sleeping in that night.

  Not that she had used the keycard.

  Because he hadn’t meant it that way.

  Except that he had.

  It had been two nights since he’d given her the keycard.

  Two agonizing, sleepless, lonely nights.

  He’d handed her the card, and her fingertips had brushed his. Ever since, he’d been picturing her lithe shadow slipping into his darkened room as he lay in bed, her black hair bleeding into the night as she stole toward him.

  He shook his head, trying to clear the competing thoughts running through it. “I don’t have mating fever. I’m far too young.”

  The squid shifter squinted at Math, examining his face and neck. “Flushed skin. Changes to eye color, more vibrant, more electric. Preoccupied. Easily irritated when away from the fated mate. You’ve got all the symptoms, Mr. Draco.”

  “No, I don’t,” he argued.

  “Stubborn, poisoned by testosterone, and in denial.”

  “Are those symptoms of mating fever, too?”

  “No, just the observation of an HR professional with twenty years of experience,” Smedley snarled.

  “I am working with this woman in a professional capacity. We are trying to get this casino ready to show to the angel investors in three weeks. It’s an extremely important phase of development.”

  “Then you need to find someone else who can oversee her. She’s an independent contractor. Her contract will be up in less than a month. Keep your dragon hands and your dragon tail and your dragon claws off of that witch until she’s no longer an employee of your dragon clan, or all of this could get very litigious, very quickly.”

  “Three weeks seems so long,” Math sighed.

  “It would only seem long if the mating fever has truly come upon you. To anyone else, anyone who isn’t about to go insane with the mating frenzy, three weeks would be fine.”

  “Wait a minute, mating frenzy? No one told me anything about a mating frenzy. They didn’t cover that in sophomore shifter health class or Magical Biology.”

  Smedley growled at Math, “Stay away from Bethany Aura.”

  Math narrowed his eyes at the HR guy. “I can’t. I have to make sure that the most important parts of the casino are ready for the angel investor tour. And I’ve got to get her started on that damned fountain out front.”

  The squid shifter scowled so hard that Math thought he was going to spit ink again. “I am documenting, right now, that you have come to me to seek advice about sexual harassment in the workplace, and I advised you to find another manager to oversee her work. At the very least, that should reduce the casino’s liability in the inevitable sexual harassment lawsuit when she goes after you.”

  Math stomped out of the HR office with the squid’s warnings
ringing in his head.

  The Fountain

  BETHANY shoved her way through the casino’s massive, rotating glass doors and trotted across the wide cement sidewalk toward the fountain. Late spring sunlight showered around her, stinging her skin with the promise of the coming desert summer.

  The fountain wasn’t running. It hadn’t been flowing yesterday, either, when she’d walked from the parking structure into the casino, squinting at it from a football field away, nor anytime in the last week while she’d been working at the casino.

  Weird.

  They’d probably paid millions for the fountain. You’d think they’d occasionally turn the thing on.

  The huge pool was probably fifty yards across and half that, wide. The fountains were supposed to be laminar-flow projectiles, which meant that smooth jets of water would fly and dance through the gushing geysers. Video could be projected on smooth sheets of water at the back while music played.

  But she’d never seen the fountain turned on.

  No one had ever seen the fountain working.

  Bethany figured out what the problem was as she neared the huge pool, however, because she could smell the fountain before she got near it.

  Algae.

  The green stink of fermenting algae rose from the fountain and hung in the air like a cloud of noxious gas.

  Math was standing near the fountain—but not too near—waiting for her just like he had texted he would be.

  He’d taken off his jacket again and probably left it somewhere in the casino. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled past his elbows again, baring his strong forearms.

  Bethany couldn’t stop staring at his arms and hands. Strong muscle wrapped his lower arms all the way down to his wrists, bulging in all the right ways. A man with that much muscle on his arms, not to mention the thick, dark hair on his head, would have a bunch of black wire on his arms, but Math didn’t. The hair on his tanned arms was light brown, almost more like fuzz. She wanted to reach over and stroke his arm to touch it, wondering if it were silky or soft, but he was her boss.

  By all that was magic, she was supposed to be a professional. Okay, she had lied on her resumé, even outright fabricating several previous jobs.

  But she could do this.

  She was doing it. She’d had more correct-magic streaks than she’d ever had. Even today, she’d done four areas of the main casino room in a row without any mishaps.

  Nevermind about the glitterbomb incident of two days ago. Ember and Willow had helped her clean it up, so that totally did not count.

  And now she just had to clean this up. It was just a grungy fountain. How bad could it be?

  Bethany hurried over to where Math stood. “How long has it been like this?”

  He raked one hand through his dark hair, messing it up. “I don’t know. I’ve tried looking at the records. It looks like they turned on the pumps once to make sure it worked, but no one has looked at it since. It’s just been sitting out here in the sunlight, stagnant, growing this green sludge.”

  Bethany wanted to pull her blouse up over her nose to filter out the stink but refrained because surely a professional wouldn’t do that. She swallowed down the sick she was pretty sure was just about to jump up her throat.

  The retaining wall of the fountain’s pool rose almost to her waist, so she leaned over to get a better look at the algae.

  The culture in the pool was composed of several different species of algae, growing in various shades of green, gray, and blue, with streaks of yellow-pink. It looked like blended spinach soup mixed with guacamole and sewage.

  The plant matter encrusted the fountain’s mechanical parts, waving gently in the dark water. Layers of it had sedimented on the sides and bottom of the pool, half a foot thick. If someone stepped in, their foot would sink ankle-deep into the slime.

  Bethany examined algae, trying to figure out how to remediate it. “That’s disgusting.”

  “If you think the fountain is bad, you should see the financial records.”

  Bethany stared into the green muck.

  A gaseous bubble rose to the surface just below where she was bending over and expelled its fumes, a sulfurous stench that stank even above the rotting vegetation. The gas enveloped her face and burned her skin.

  Bethany’s head spun, and she stumbled. The bright Las Vegas sunlight darkened as she crumpled and began to slide, head-first, toward the fetid sludge. She couldn’t even move her arms to push herself away as she nose-dived.

  Just as the world closed around Bethany and the sun faded out, a force tossed her into the air.

  Blessed freshness blew across her face, fanning that awful stench away.

  Instead of the acrid swamp gas, a scent like cinnamon and a faraway forest fire filled her nose.

  Bethany sucked in a great draught of fresh air like she was quaffing a reviving potion.

  A male voice whispered in her ear, “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”

  She gulped air and croaked, “I’m okay,” more out of habit than anything because she still felt like she was going to die. Her lungs felt scalded, and she coughed. “Get me away from that thing.”

  Air rushed by her head.

  The sun dimmed. The light overhead became striped.

  She clung to Math—because she knew Math was carrying her in his arms—and huddled closer to his chest.

  He carried her like she weighed nothing. He carried her like he was floating on air.

  She thought he might be flying.

  Another cough exploded in her chest and spewed out her mouth, honking like a horrible goose.

  Not that there was anything wrong with sometimes being a goose.

  Or a dragon.

  Something soft pushed up and under her, and Math’s arms released her.

  His eyes—the color of good toffee with streaks of gold—were level with hers. “Can you breathe?”

  She nodded, pressing her hand to her chest. “It tried to kill me. It actually tried to kill me.”

  “I’m sure it was just a coincidence,” Math said, but he glared at the window like he might fly out and kick the algae’s butt, if it had a butt.

  Pressure lifted Bethany’s chin, and she let her head rise.

  “Look at me,” Math said.

  When she opened her eyes, the tip of Math’s nose was barely an inch from her own, and he was staring intensely into her eyes.

  He asked, “Are you all right? You were gasping. Is it hard to breathe?”

  Heck yeah, she was gasping. Her heart raced in her chest, and the ends of her fingertips tingled.

  “I’m all right,” Bethany repeated, her voice a little steadier and less hoarse that time.

  She glanced around herself.

  He had brought her to one of the penthouse suites that she had already magicked to orderliness. Her fingertips caught on the ivory silk of the bedspread.

  Math’s suit jacket hung over the back of the desk chair over by the wide windows.

  Oh, he’d carried her up to his penthouse suite.

  She was sitting on his bed as he crouched in front of her, their lips level and only inches apart.

  An electric thrill ran through her.

  Surely, it was just a reflex on his part.

  Surely, he didn’t mean anything by it.

  He wasn’t saying anything but was just watching her.

  Bethany dug her fingers into the bed’s comforter so she wouldn’t grab handfuls of his shirt and pull his tall, muscled frame down and on top of her. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever fainted before.”

  Math’s hands still touched her face, and he ran his fingers over her chin and jaw, almost like a caress. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  His other hand slipped around her throat, his fingers insinuating themselves into her hair at the back of her neck.

  Bethany asked him, “Are we alone?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Do you want me to step back?”

  “No,” Bethany
said.

  Math stroked her chin and jaw with his thumb. “I will step back if you want me to.”

  Bethany’s attention centered on where Math’s thumb stroked down her jaw, and his other hand was buried in her hair. Her pulse throbbed at her temples, and her fingertips, and between her legs. “You’ll do what I want you to?”

  “Anything you want,” he whispered. “Tell me to step back. Tell me to walk away. Do it. I will.”

  The streaks of gold glitter in his eyes widened, turning into luminous streams that flowed toward his dark pupils.

  Even though his hands still cradled her jaw and the back of her neck, her skin was so sensitive she could have sworn his fingertips were trailing down her arms, up her thighs, brushing the thin skin over her spine, and gently cupping her breasts.

  A small part of her mind wondered if this was the dragon’s rumored sexual magic, but even if it was a trick, she didn’t care. Every fiber of her body craved his touch.

  He was watching her eyes intently, focusing on every twitch of her eyelashes, as he dragged his thumb gently over her lower lip.

  Bethany closed her eyes, feeling that caress like a kiss.

  Desire shot through her. Hunger for him leached out every cell of her body. Her hands felt empty because she wasn’t running her palms and fingers over his skin. Her mouth was being denied the feast of his lips.

  Math’s thumb stroked her lower lip again, a little more forcefully this time, dragging on her skin.

  She was starving for every bit of his flesh.

  As he stroked to the center of her lip, Bethany opened her mouth and sucked his thumb in.

  Inside her mouth, his skin tasted good and faintly of salt. The male scent of his hand lingered in her nose, and his thumb filled her mouth and rubbed her tongue like a deep, hard kiss.

  By all that was holy and magic, she was still doing it.

  And yet, as she sucked on his thumb, the craving inside her mouth was satisfied.