Copyright © 2018 by Lovestruck Romance.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
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.
This book is intended for adult readers only.
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. Cherry
2. Cezar
3. Cherry
4. Cezar
5. Cherry
6. Cezar
7. Cherry
8. Cezar
9. Cherry
10. Cezar
11. Cherry
12. Cezar
13. Cherry
14. Cherry
15. Cherry
16. Cezar
17. Cezar
18. Cherry
19. Cezar
20. Cherry
21. Cezar
22. Cherry
23. Cezar
Epilogue
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Fire Breathing Cezar
Dragons of the Bayou Book 2
Candace Ayers
Lovestruck Romance
Small town librarian Cherry Deschamps is perfectly content with her safe, mundane existence even if others might consider evenings spent with a mug of hot cocoa, bowl of Ramen noodles and a Netflix marathon boring.
When the panty-meltingly gorgeous “Mr. Hollywood” enters her life, showering her with gifts and attention, of course she’s skeptical. She’s learned from an early age that exposing her heart will only lead to pain and heartache.
Cezar fights every baser instinct he has to win over his human mate—including behaving in the ways of a human male. In the end, however, it may take the fiery passion and fierce possessiveness of his dragon to convince Cherry that she’s worthy of being loved.
1
Cherry
The Carl A. Brasseaux Library, a branch of the Lafourche Parish Public Library system had served as more than just a place of employment for me. It had, for a number of years, been a beacon of hope that had transformed into something more—my home. Between the covers of books, with the scent of paper, ink and adhesive wafting from the pages, I found escape, freedom and even a sense of belonging.
In the big, brick, building with shiny, brand new windows I had finally reached the goal I’d held since I’d been a lost and unwanted child shuffled through the foster care system. I was the new head librarian. The crotchety spinster that I had replaced, Miss Slair, had been the head librarian for over forty years. She’d been there when I was a kid, just as sour-faced and snarly as she was at her retirement party a few days prior. I’d been waiting for her to retire for so long that I’d nearly jumped for joy when the announcement was made that she was stepping down and I would be replacing her. Not only did that mean I would finally get to escape her reign of terror, but more importantly, it meant fulfilling my dream of moving from part time library aid to full time librarian. Benefits, more money, and two weeks of paid vacation. I had made it.
I realized that most people wouldn’t be as over the moon as I was to get a job as librarian in a small branch library in Louisiana bayou country. But, I’d gone to college, gotten my degree in library science, and continued to work part time at the Brasseaux Library, all in eager anticipation of this exact job. This exact day. This exact moment.
I loved books—everything about them. The smell of them, the look of them, the heft of them whether hugged against the chest or carried under the arm. But, what’s more, I loved the worlds they unlocked. The alternate realities and the characters who lived lives of adventure, romance, mystery, and intrigue. The moment I stepped through the doors of the place as a girl of almost twelve years old, it changed my life. I still relished the peaceful sounds, the hushed, whispered voices, the pages being flipped, the keyboard keys being struck.
I unlocked the front doors and stepped through them on that chilly Monday morning. I stood for a moment grinning, breathing deeply, and indulging myself in the familiar scents.
What a beautiful morning, I marveled, as I flipped on the lights. A few years back, a good deal of money had been donated to have the old building remodeled on the inside and a local contractor had worked nothing short of a miracle. Everything was new and pristine, large bookshelves made of real wood, hanging pendant lamps throughout, solid oak floors that our fabulous janitor, old Eustace, kept shined to perfection. It was my little slice of heaven and I intended to leave an impression.
“Our first day without The Slayer!” Cameron Davis’ raised voice echoed through the main room startling me out of my reverie, sending me stumbling forward and clutching my chest. “Don’t we have an old disco ball in the basement from that 70’s themed fundraiser we did a few years back? I feel like boogying through the stacks!”
I shot her a look. “Can you not give me a heart attack first? I’d love to experience my first day as head librarian right here rather than spending it at the hospital.”
“Sorry. I snuck in behind you when I saw you coming in. I kinda wanted to see what you’d do. Slayer always came in and wiped the counters with her boney old knobby fingers to check for dust. She was just waiting for a chance to ream poor Eustace.”
“And you were expecting the same from me?” I raised a brow.
“Not at all. You did just what I thought you’d do. You looked around this place like it’s the Taj Mahal and it’s just been gifted to you.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never known anyone’s panties to get wet from being in a library.”
“Really, Cameron?” I turned away so she didn’t see me blush. It was embarrassing that at almost thirty, I was still so prudish that I blushed over silly, carnally-natured comments. The truth was, anything of a sexual nature flustered me but, along with my new job, I had plans to change that. New job, new life, new page.
I was starting to consider it as a thing of shame that at my age I was still a virgin, as though I was too afflicted with repulsiveness or damage to even get a man to sleep with me. It wasn’t true—at least I didn’t think it was. At any rate, I vowed that this would be the year to remedy that affliction, just to say I did it. Pun intended.
Maybe in the end I would turn out to be the proverbial old maid spinster librarian like, I shuddered, Miss Slair, but at least I ought to know what I was missing. It would be a choice, not an affliction.
Yep, new page.
I glanced at Cameron. “Come on. Since you snuck in early, you can help me get the stuff set up for this morning.”
“Your first Kiddie’s Corner, huh?”
My first everything—a year of firsts. “I think I’m going to change that name, too.” I looked over at where the kids would soon be piled up on pillows and the carpet squares we brought out. Miss Slair had always made them sit in an orderly fashion before she started and would give them nasty, stink-eyed glares if they got too fidgety or excited. “This is going to be fun. What do you think about calling it The
New Adventure Zone?”
* * *
The day passed far too quickly and, by closing time, I still felt full of energy, like I could do it all again right then and there. I loved being free to interact with the children and other patrons who came and went. The big place already felt lighter and more welcoming with Miss Slair gone. The Slayer would not be missed.
“What are you doing to celebrate your first day as the big wig?” Cameron plopped a stack of books down on the circulation desk and grinned at me. “A steamy night of Ramen noodles, hot cocoa, and Netflix?”
“Ha. Ha. Funny.”
“You’re not disagreeing.”
“Well, I’m not agreeing either. Which means maybe it’s noodles and chocolate, or maybe it’s a hot date and a night on the town.” It definitely was not a date; it was never, ever a date. In fact, her suggestion of Ramen, cocoa and Netflix sounded pretty good to me, not that I was about to admit it aloud. I was a homebody—an introverted bookworm who adored her boring life. Mostly.
“Yeah, okay.” She scooted the books towards me and smiled sweetly. “Well, I do have a hot date. Do you mind putting these away for me so I can get out of here?”
I was already nodding before she finished her sentence. We both knew I didn’t have anything planned for the evening. Plus, I liked staying late at the library and experiencing the place alone. My morning serenity had been invaded by Cameron, so I’d take some quiet alone time at my home away from home when I could. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks! You’re a doll.” She was almost a blur she got out of there so fast.
I leaned against the desk and took it all in. My life might’ve been boring and kind of lonely, but I was really proud of myself. I was once just a kid in the system—a kid whose chances of not ending up either in prison, addicted to drugs or dead by the time I’d reached thirty were statistically abysmal. Yet, I’d beaten the odds. Brick by brick, I’d built myself a stable, respectable life. Sure, I didn’t venture too far out of my comfort zone. I wasn’t a big risk taker. But, who said a life had to be wild and crazy to be valid? A quiet life surrounded by the worlds of adventure between the pages of a good book was all the excitement I needed. It was a life, right?
The oversized clock on the wall above the desk chimed that it was six-thirty. I grabbed the stack of books to shelve. I knew the shelves like the back of my hand, so it took me no time. Then, I made my rounds, making sure everything was put away all neat and tidy. I probably looked like I’d lost my mind since I couldn’t wipe the huge grin off my face.
I grabbed my things and scanned the room once more before locking the massive wooden doors and stepping out under the large front awning. The night had already descended, and winter had arrived earlier than expected that year. It was a sweater and bonfire night. Despite my insistence that I loved to be alone, I was still buzzing with excitement about my first day and wanted to share it with someone. Maybe I could persuade Chyna, my twin, to come over for dinner to help me celebrate. I’d even supply the hot cocoa.
I lived within walking distance of the library, and as I headed down the street towards my house, I was overcome with a vaguely empty feeling. It was like a sixth sense that gnawed at my gut, leaving me feeling a bit hollow, like something was missing. It was disappointing considering I’d just finished my first day at my dream job—the goal that I’d been pursuing for over a decade.
A gust of evening chill blew over the quiet street and I shuddered. No, it wasn’t just that something was missing; it was that something was coming. I had a strange inkling that something was about to change. I could feel it in my bones like a sixth sense.
Sixth sense, pshaw, I chided myself. I didn’t believe in all that ‘spirits-and-curses-and-spells’ mumbo jumbo that was so prevalent down here in the bayou country of the deep south.
It was probably just that I was letting Cameron’s comments get to me. A girl didn’t need to go out on the town or have hot dates lined up to enjoy herself. There was nothing inherently empty about a calm, safe life. I was…happy. I was.
I pulled out my phone and dialed my sister. Fortunately, life had blessed me with a twin, someone that made it impossible for me to ever truly be alone. Instead of getting Chyna, however, I got her voicemail. Afraid of my recorded voice sounding needy and pitiful, I hung up without leaving a message. Chyna would be able to pick up on my mood right away, even in a transmission through a cell tower. We had that kind of connection.
As I walked the rest of the way home, I decided that I’d just crawl into bed early with the best bed partner a girl could ever have—the latest release from my favorite cozy mystery author.
2
Cezar
Dragons tended to be kind of territorial about their homes—castles—what have you. It was innate. I, and the others who’d arrived in the new world along with me, were no different. Only on rare occasions, usually emergencies or crises, did we all gather at one of our castles. Usually, however, we chose a neutral meeting place. Currently, that meeting place was in the middle of secluded swampland on an old abandoned barge.
None of us was sure how long the barge had been there, or when or why it had been abandoned, but our kind had arrived in our new world just a couple decades shy of a century ago, and I, for one, remembered a time when that stretch of swamp was empty. All any of us could say about the matter was that one day there was nothing, the next, a very large abandoned barge.
We always flew in. The weather was cool that night and the flight was pleasant. It felt good to stretch my wings out and have the evening breezes roll over my scales. Yet, I still had a deep, restless feeling, an antsiness. I’d been feeling that way for days. Dragons shouldn’t feel antsy. It wasn’t safe. No animal the size of a small building should ever feel anything remotely close to antsy.
Armand, Remy, and Blaise were already there when I arrived. Ovide was missing. No surprise. He was never on time. Beast was absent as well, but I didn’t expect him. I figured he was far too busy to attend any meetings for a while. Besides, the evening’s topic didn’t concern him. He’d found his mate. No doubt, he was at home right that moment enjoying his new family. Lucky firemouth. I was happy for him, really, but there still remained a tiny sliver of me that was ragingly jealous. Rarely did I covet another dragon’s treasures, but a mate was a treasure unlike any other. Beast had, as the humans saying went, “hit the jackpot”. His mate was fantastic and she came with two young males whom I had grown very fond of.
Armand was seated on an old crate, his face expressionless, despite the fact that we all knew the wheels in that dragon’s head were always spinning. He was probably thinking about the next batch of brew he was cooking up. Spirits of the new world barely affected us, and then only if we imbibed vast quantities. They were hardly worth it. Armand took it upon himself not only to keep alive the recipes of the old world brews, but to improve upon them creating new ways to get a dragon shit-faced.
“You and Ovide are always late.” Remy scowled. “Do you think we like sitting around in the middle of this swamp like crusty old scalywings?”
Blaise rolled his eyes at his twin brother. “Like we have anywhere better to be. We’ve been sitting around like crusty old scalywings for over seventy-five years now. Besides, I kind of like this place. It’s like a secluded island. I used to go to the one that Beast found until he mated all over it. Now, I can’t stomach the stench.”
I walked the width of the barge and stared out at the wetland. It wasn’t so unlike our old world. Most of the time the swamp was pretty similar—hot, muggy, and sometimes containing the rising odor of rot and decay.
“Islands are great.” Remy shrugged. “But, mates would be better.”
I stood facing my fellow dragons. “He’s right. We’re not here to admire our surroundings or to find a personal oasis. I think you all know why I have called you here tonight. And, I am certain you’ll all agree that we have a grave matter at hand.”
There was a collective sigh. I assumed that mos
t of us wanted a mate, although there was at least one of us in the group that got along just fine without a female around. But, our desire for mates wasn’t the grave matter of which I spoke. It was our need for mates. Mates were a necessity for our kind. A male dragon had a certain length of time to find his mate. After that time passed, if he was still without one, he would deteriorate to his most base, animalistic form. Not only that but, like a ticking clock, our time was nearing the end. We’d estimated that those of us who did not find a mate by the lunar eclipse were done for. We would slowly lose our minds and eventually shift into our dragon form to be permanently locked there, unable to ever shift back.
I had not thought that part completely through while instructing my brethren to run as fugitives from our old world. To be fair, it had never been a consideration for our kind before because there had been plenty of females in the old world. The question of whether a male would find a mate before his biological clock ran out had never before been raised.
Then, the slayers had managed to increase their numbers, and their threat to us to the point…well, the best option for our kind had been to seek out a new home. There was much more to the story, but the bottom line was that there we were, the handful of us, as far as we knew the lone survivors of our race, doing the best we could to survive.
Fire Breathing Cezar: Dragons of the Bayou Book 2 Page 1