by Lisa Oliver
Dragon’s Tears
City Dragons Book 3
By Lisa Oliver
Dragon’s Tears (City Dragons #3)
Copyright © Lisa Oliver, 2020
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover Design by Lisa Oliver
Cover pictures purchased from Shutterstock.com.
First Edition April 2020
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, Lisa Oliver. [email protected]
No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from Lisa Oliver. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.
Dragon’s Tears is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All trademarks are owned by the relevant companies and are used for reference purposes in this book only.
Blurb
Byron Hollingsworth was an emotional wreck and after ranting at his younger brother Samuel, and calling his impending offspring an abomination, now everyone else knew how unstable Byron was too. It’s not as though he hadn’t tried to be the perfect son, brother and cousin. He tried to keep his affliction hidden from others. But the painful truth was now out for everyone to see – Byron ached for the mate he’d seen once more than ten years before and that loss had affected every area of his life. And then, just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, someone delivers a package to Byron’s house that changes the course of his entire life.
Ivak Sellivik, bastard son of the Ice Dragon King, was known as “Ice” for good reason. Heartless, ruthless, and dangerous, he travelled the world, focusing on the important things in life like making money and ridding the world of paranormal criminals. He knew he had a fated mate – he’d even seen him once. However, meeting his fated mate face to face was something he could do after he retired, and he told himself he was happy to wait until then. That was, until he gets a frantic call from his brother.
Sometimes plans need to be flexible and a person has to understand that wants and needs are two different things. When Byron gets taken, Ice must decide if he wants a mate in his life at all, or risk losing his forever. But he has to decide quickly, because his enemies are closing in on all sides, and Byron’s not the only one in their sights. Throw in a summons from the Ice Dragon King and things get really hectic. Will Ice and Byron have time for an HEA, even if they do decide to try for one together?
Dragon’s Tears is an MM fated mates, mpreg story that includes scenes of violence and intimate acts intended for adults only.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books By Lisa/Lee Oliver
Dedication
To all of you reading this, I pray and hope you are safe, well-stocked and well. Embrace our new normal, my dear friends, for things will be like this for a while yet.
To Phil for showing me where I went wrong, and to Amanda and Carla for polishing what I got right.
Chapter One
Fork sitting one inch to the left of the plate. Knife placed exactly one inch to the left of the fork. Spoons – soup and dessert – mirrored the knife and fork to the right side of the plate. Glass exactly three inches…
Byron frowned and picked up the glass. The partial fingerprint mocked the otherwise pristine shine. Damn it all to fuck… The loud crack pulled him out of his cursing. He stared at the broken stem of the glass in his hand.
Closing his eyes, Byron inhaled sharply and then tried to let it out slowly. What did you do that for?
You were going to break it anyway, so why not?
Sighing, Byron sent back to his dragon sharply, I do not go around breaking things on purpose.
Six glasses this week alone. That one makes seven. The dragon sounded as though he was having fun at Byron’s expense. Not to mention two iPads, that fancy phone of yours, and isn’t your favorite car at the mechanics with a broken steering wheel?
“We’ve been through this before,” Byron’s voice thundered through the empty apartment. “I’m trying to find our mate. I’ve told you that a hundred times. Don’t you think I want to find him too?”
No. I don’t. That was one of the many grievances Byron had against his dragon. The bossy lizard was too damn opinionated. The latest report from the private detectives you hired is still sitting on your desk unopened.
“I’ve been busy.” Byron stalked through to the kitchen, searching for some newspaper. Once the broken glass was safely wrapped, he shoved it hard into the rubbish bin. “I told you I’m looking. It’s cost us a fortune so far…”
You haven’t followed up on any of the tips included in the last report. That PI guy said he’d found two shifter brothers…
“Will you just shut up!” Byron leaned against the counter, “I’ve had a rough enough day as it is. Dirk chewing me out over that half-breed mutt Sammy’s carrying…”
You had no right to tell him to end the pregnancy. Great. Now Byron’s dragon sounded miffed. All children are precious as you well know. Wasn’t it you who agreed your father didn’t have the right to kill Celine’s child, the one your brother and his fated mate care for so deeply?
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Byron said, his voice coming out in a half sob. Everything in his well-ordered world was falling around his ears. Dirk claiming a male mate – a shifter dog of all things – just ten days out from his wedding to the lovely, and apparently pregnant to someone else, Celine. His father’s death, at Jon’s hands. His cousin Jeremy’s banishment. Then Samuel being claimed by a vampire he was now pregnant to.
This is not the way things are meant to be. Byron’s fist thumped on the counter. Two hundred and eighty years’ worth of his parent’s indoctrinations pounded through his head. Dragons only mated with dragons. The dragon line must be kept pure. Building a horde was a dragon’s passion but protecting the Hollingsworth name, according to Byron’s parents, grandp
arents and all the great grandparents before that, had to come before all else.
And Byron’s older brother Dirk just smashed centuries worth of traditions with a sledge hammer. Claiming Jon as his true mate. Placing Celine’s hybrid child in front of the clan for acceptance. Byron had kept his grievances silent then. Dirk was the new clan leader, responsible for the Hollingsworth clan on both sides of the Atlantic. Besides, the child wasn’t awful. Byron wasn’t a complete asshole, and at least Tiernan had shifted into a dragon before shifting into anything else.
But Sammy. Fuck, where did I go wrong with him? Byron had always known his younger brother by eighty odd years was different although he didn’t strictly understand what the term ‘omega’ meant. But when the words “I’m pregnant” fell out of Sammy’s mouth, Byron saw red. Sammy’s mate was a vampire and such a pregnancy just should not have been possible.
And so, Byron said some things that might have been considered rude and cruel.
And Dirk reamed him a new asshole for it the moment the plane arrived back in New York, the tattling dragons letting Dirk know what was going on before he’d had a chance to tell his side of the story.
And now, in the peace of his serene apartment, his dragon was nagging at him again about finding their mate – the man Byron had only got a glimpse of almost eleven years before.
“I’m going to bed,” he yelled at the ceiling. “Is that all right with everyone? I’m not hungry. I’m sure you’re hoping I’ll choke on a fishbone or something, but you’re shit out of luck. I’m going to bed. Alone. Again.”
No one answered. They never did in Byron’s space unless it was his dragon nagging him and he’d gone quiet for now. His housekeeper stayed out of his way, cleaning his house while he worked, and leaving a meal for him each night. If the plate was still in the oven when she let herself into the house in the morning, she cleaned it up, and put out a fresh one for the following evening. Byron’s place was his, the first thing he insisted on when he reached adulthood and realized his father was always going to be more interested in Dirk’s training than his.
The only time anyone notices me is when they’re yelling at me. Byron wandered through to his huge master suite, unfastening the buttons on his shirt. Even in the depths of despair, Byron still stuck to his routine – shirt in the hamper marked dry cleaning. His pants followed. Shoes were placed neatly on the rack he had built specially for them, and socks and underwear went into the washing hamper.
Reaching into his dresser drawer, Byron pulled out freshly ironed sleep pants and tugged them on, making sure the drawstring was secure. Making his way into the sparkling bathroom, he did what he had to do – what he always did before getting into bed. As he went to leave the bathroom, he caught sight of the haunted expression in his pale green eyes.
I doubt even a mate could fix that, he thought morosely, turning off the bathroom light and plunging the room into darkness.
/~/~/~/~/
“Excuse me, Mr. Hollingsworth?” Byron looked up to see Petrov, the head of Dirk’s security guards lurking at his office door. After a wretched night’s sleep, he was sure he looked like hell, but Byron still put on a clean suit and went into the office, the same as he did every day.
“Yes, Petrov, what is it?” Byron looked back down at his reports. As head of HR and accounting, it was his responsibility to make sure every department head was doing their jobs properly. Not that anyone dared fuck up again after the recent theft scandal. But still, it was Byron’s job and he came in and did it, every working day.
Hearing the door snick closed, Byron’s head shot up again. Petrov had come in and closed the door. Most unusual. “I don’t mean to disturb you…”
Yeah, you did. I get you don’t like me, and believe me buddy, the feeling’s mutual now. Say what you have to say and then get out.
When Byron first met Petrov, five years before, his cock actually stirred and it was such an unusual occurrence, Byron tried, unsuccessfully, to get the man to agree to go to a hotel with him. Not in his private space, never there, but an hour or two in a nice hotel would have been a pleasant interlude. After being shot down in a curt, bordering on rude fashion, the two men barely spoke beyond what was necessary in the five years since then.
“…however, a few of my enforcers heard word in town that strangers were lurking around – specifically around this company building.”
“That’s Dirk’s department, not mine.” Byron met the wolf’s gaze squarely. His brother’s name still felt like dirt on his tongue.
“I will take report back to the senior Mr. Hollingsworth, as is my job.” Petrov stood at parade rest. It was Petrov’s military bearing that had attracted Byron in the first place. Well, that and his immaculate short blond hair. “However, in this instance I felt it was important to mention this to you first. The strangers were asking for information about you specifically.”
Byron frowned. “They were asking about a Hollingsworth, you mean. Dirk and I both share a strong family resemblance.” Even though he’s bigger, older and so in love with his mate…
“No,” Petrov said calmly. “They were asking about Byron Hollingsworth, specifically where you live, work, and what you do in your spare time.”
“Well, they could have saved themselves a visit to town,” Byron scoffed. “My name and picture, along with any contact details I’m prepared to share are all on the company website. As for any free time, between my father’s funeral and the problems in the company, I’ve been busy working, so I don’t have any. I’ve not been approached by anyone in months, stranger or otherwise. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Sir.” Petrov shifted his feet. “I realize it might not seem like anything, but if you have a stalker…”
“I would know about it.” Byron shook his head. “I am the least likely person to be stalked by anyone. I might keep to myself, but it’s not like I’ve got any skeletons rattling around in my closet, even if I didn’t. If anyone is looking for dirt on me that might impact the family name or the company, which I assume is your concern, then they won’t find any. Now, if that’s all…” He waved his hand to indicate his paperwork.
“Mr. Hollingsworth, despite what you might think about me and my men personally…”
“I don’t have an opinion.” Byron cut him off, still managing to keep his eyes on the wolf’s face. Five years was not long enough to squash the embarrassment he felt at being put so firmly in his place, but he was damned if he would let Petrov see that on his face. “You and your men do an excellent job and you’re paid well for it. No one has approached me. I haven’t had any threatening letters in the mail at home, or here, and I haven’t noticed anyone lurking around who shouldn’t be. This is New York. People talk. I appreciate your diligence, but I’m perfectly fine. Now, if you don’t mind…”
“Do you have adequate security at home?” Petrov looked uncomfortable. “Only, I have a brother…”
“I have all the security I need, thank you very much.” Byron shook his head in disgust. For all he knew, Petrov was just trying to drum up more business for his brother. It was a damned nuisance other shifters could scent lies when dragons couldn’t. “You can let my brother know you’ve spoken to me about this, and that I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Now, please leave. I have work to do.”
Petrov’s jaw tightened. Byron kept his eyes firmly on the wolf shifter’s face until the man turned and left the office.
“He’ll be telling me he’s got a great deal for me on condos next,” Byron muttered as he went back to his reports.
/~/~/~/~/
The parcel sitting on his doormat when Byron arrived at his front door was a surprise. It’d been a longer than usual day, Petrov’s interruptions not included. Every month, many of the local rich list came together for what was called a business meeting, but really was a chance for a bunch of people with more money than sense, to see and be seen, and generally gossip about who was making or losing their money the fastes
t.
Byron rarely attended, but with Dirk and Jon so involved with Tiernan, Samuel living in San Jose, Jeremy banished, and Leonard and Rastin still in San Jose working on Raoul’s new security system, Dirk had told Byron to attend. When Byron pleaded work and suggested Foster do it, the look he got let him know the argument wasn’t worth it. A Hollingsworth had to be seen to socialize, and Foster wasn’t good at it.
The evening was boring. The food tasted like cardboard and Byron had no problems excusing himself early. Was he concerned about how the current political climate might influence international business matters? Of course. But Byron could read the same as everyone else and it wasn’t as though anyone at the meeting knew anything more than what was already public fodder.
And now he had a parcel. On his doormat, which meant it had to have been personally delivered. Byron wasn’t expecting any deliveries, and even if he was, they always came via the company office, rather than his home address. Byron never gave out his home address to anyone outside of family.
Looming over the neatly wrapped square parcel, Byron studied the address label. It was addressed to him, his name handwritten in a looping scrawl. The handwriting was another anomaly; most parcels had computer generated labels. For a moment, Byron thought about Petrov’s concern he had a stalker. He shook that off. It’s probably from Samuel, he decided, bending down to pick up the parcel. I’ll have to call him and remind him to send stuff to the office in the future.
The package wasn’t overly heavy, and Byron was able to juggle it easily while facing the retinal scan that allowed his door to be unlocked. Yes, Petrov, you sexy bastard, I do have security. And damn, I shouldn’t be thinking of that oaf as sexy. Byron shut down that line of thinking as quickly as it came. Shouldering his way through his front door, he placed the parcel on the table by the door, along with his keys, before taking off his shoes. Normally, he would wait and do that when he went to bed, but Byron’s feet ached, so he aligned the discarded shoes perfectly with the table beside the door.