Dragon Passions: Three fiery & suspenseful paranormal romances!

by Anna Lowe

  Again, Marcel stated the obvious. “The Champ de Mars. Beautiful, is it not?”

  “Beautiful,” Natalie agreed.

  Even Tristan had to admit the place was especially atmospheric that evening. Floodlights lit the Eiffel Tower, making it glow gold against the indigo sky. Couples wandered by, and a jazz quartet played a swinging tune that seemed to climb the tower’s latticework. Still, Tristan didn’t let down his guard. He sniffed the air sharply, sensing another shifter. A moment later, he relaxed. It was just Liam, following them on a parallel path.

  Good Lord, Liam muttered into Tristan’s mind. How can Natalie stand him?

  Barely, Tristan replied dryly.

  Obviously, she’d tuned out of Marcel’s ongoing monologue. She was studying the beams of the Eiffel Tower, not Marcel, who was still chattering away.

  “A special place for a special lady…”

  Tristan glared at Marcel, then at a souvenir hawker who approached them. The man’s shoes hastily scuffed over the gravel footpath as he skittered back. If only Marcel would do the same. Tristan sighed and turned in a slow circle, checking the area.

  Uh, Tristan… Liam warned.

  Tristan spun to see Marcel take both Natalie’s hands and drop to one knee. “Natalie, we are destined for each other. I know it. I want to give you the privilege of becoming my mate.”

  Tristan just about choked. The privilege?

  “I will honor and worship you,” Marcel went on.

  Natalie stared. “What?”

  “Yes, I mean it.” Marcel grinned.

  Natalie backed away, twisting her hand. But Marcel hung on, refusing to let her go.

  “You will bear my children, and I shall raise our sons to be the mightiest dragons in all Europe. We shall—“

  “You — what?” Natalie screeched, trying to yank away.

  An angry gleam came over Marcel’s eyes as he hung on to her wrists. Tristan saw red. He was on his way to punching Marcel, but Natalie acted first, shoving Marcel hard enough to make him topple back.

  Liam’s chuckle sounded in Tristan’s mind, but all he really registered was rage.

  “But, darling,” Marcel tried.

  Tristan stepped between them, torn between kicking Marcel’s ass and checking if Natalie was all right. He turned, then froze. Whoa. Wait. Natalie wasn’t just glaring at Marcel. She was glaring at him, too.

  “Mating?” Her cheeks turned crimson. “Giving you heirs?” She stuck her hands on her hips. “Is that how the dragon world works?”

  Tristan’s lips moved in protest, but Marcel beat him to it.

  “Yes. We shall be mated, and you will be mine.”

  “Yours? What, like a carpet? A used book? A new car?”

  Marcel stared, uncomprehending. “I already have a car.”

  Natalie threw up her hands. “I heard. The new Mercedes.”

  Marcel tilted his head. “You want one, too? I can get you one. I can get you anything.”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  “Everyone wants something.”

  “Oh, really?” Tristan could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. “Then tell me exactly what you want, Marcel.”

  Tristan would have needed a couple of days — maybe even a lifetime — to answer a question like that. But Marcel replied without the slightest hesitation. “I want you. I want a Fire Maiden as my mate.”

  “Why? Because you love me?”

  Marcel shrugged. “I’ll learn to love you.”

  “Learn?” she shrieked.

  Tristan couldn’t believe his ears. He didn’t need to learn how to love Natalie. It had happened all by itself. He loved the way she curled up with books on the velvet couch. He loved the softness of her voice and the passion in her eyes. He loved how strong she was, even when the going got tough.

  “You will learn to love me too,” Marcel assured her. “And that will give me power. A leading position in the city.”

  Natalie’s eyebrows flew up. “Ambitious, aren’t you?”

  Marcel flashed a cocky smile, taking that as a compliment. “Isn’t that what all men want?”

  Natalie looked at Tristan, and he froze. Would she see him for who he really was, or did she think he was power hungry like Marcel?

  She pursed her lips before he could read her expression. “I see. And what do women want, in your opinion?”

  Marcel’s smile stretched. “Women want men with power. They want nice homes and nice things. They want to live a good life and be well taken care of — them and their children.”

  The ultimate charm machine, isn’t he? Liam’s dry voice sounded in Tristan’s mind.

  “Are you done?” Natalie demanded.

  Marcel nodded as if his list included everything a woman could possibly desire.

  “Fine. Now, you listen to me.” Natalie thrust a finger at Marcel. “If that kind of woman exists, I am not her. You got that? Furthermore, I belong to nobody. I am not yours. I am not his.” She stabbed her finger toward Tristan. “I am my own person.”

  Tristan knew that but, ouch. He wanted her so badly.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Marcel insisted.

  Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “This is about you getting a Fire Maiden. It’s not about who I am. Who I really am.”

  “It’s not,” Tristan agreed.

  But Marcel uttered the same words at the same time, erasing any earnestness Tristan might have conveyed. Worse, he stepped beside Tristan like they were a team or something.

  “You’re only interested in your own gain.” Natalie shook a finger at Marcel. Then she shook it at Tristan. “And you…you’ve only been pretending. You were in on this all along.”

  Tristan’s jaw dropped. “No! Natalie, I swear…”

  “Darling, I swear,” Marcel echoed. “I only want the best for you.”

  Tristan reached for her hand, begging with his eyes. But Natalie’s face went hard, and her eyes took on an angry yellow sheen. “Get away from me, both of you.”

  “Be reasonable,” Marcel said, throwing fuel on her fire.

  “Get away!” she hollered, backing up.

  “Natalie,” Marcel insisted. “I will always protect you.”

  She moved from the footpath to the grass, ready to flee. “The only protection I need is from you.” Then she spun and ran across the field.

  Tristan’s muscles twitched, insisting he take off after her. But he knew better than that. Marcel, on the other hand, didn’t, and when he moved to chase down Natalie, Tristan grabbed his sleeve.

  “Get out of my way,” Marcel snarled.

  “You will not touch her. You will not have her.”

  Marcel sneered. “Why? Because you said so?”

  “No, because she said so.”

  Tristan shoved Marcel so hard, he stumbled into the bushes. When the dragon shifter recovered his balance, he squared his shoulders and glared. “You work for me, fool.”

  Tristan shook his head. “I work for Alaric.”

  “You’re a hired hand. A mercenary. One about to lose his job, once my uncle hears about this. I, on the other hand, am of noble blood. A suitable mate for the Fire Maiden this city needs. She will be mine. Alaric promised her to me.”

  Tristan bared his teeth. “Listen to yourself. We’re not living in medieval times.”

  Marcel snorted. “We live according to noble dragon traditions, not that you would understand.”

  Tristan’s gums burned with the pressure of his teeth trying to extend, though he knew he couldn’t shift. Not here, not now. But Marcel motioned him deeper into the shadows.

  “You dare challenge me?”

  I challenge you. I’d be happy to kill you, Tristan’s dragon snapped.

  His human side, however, made him stand his ground. “Not here, you idiot.” Even with the jazz quartet drawing passersby to a distant corner of the park, the area was too public to risk shifting in.

  “Coward.” Marcel threw his jacket aside and loosened his tie.<
br />
  Rage flowed through Tristan, and he barely held it in check. He couldn’t let Marcel goad him into a fight. The shithead would find a way to twist the facts to make him look like the aggressor, and Alaric would kick his sorry ass out of town.

  But Marcel wouldn’t relent. Within seconds, his shirt was off, and his arms were morphing into wings.

  “You want her, too. Do you think I’m blind?” Marcel’s voice dropped an octave as he shifted. “We’ll settle this as tradition dictates.”

  Tristan was pretty sure whatever tradition Marcel referred to had gone by the wayside when pistol duels had.

  “Marcel…” he warned.

  Isn’t our mate worth fighting for? his dragon cried.

  Of course she was. But fighting meant risking everything. His job. His future. Even his life. Was it worth it?

  Hell, yes, he nearly barked.

  Still, fighting wouldn’t guarantee him Natalie’s love. He had to be honest with himself. Was it worth it?

  The answer was a mournful yes. He would fight for Natalie’s right to choose a suitor, even if it didn’t turn out to be him. No matter how dire the outcome was for him, the issue wasn’t what he stood to gain. It was about what Natalie stood to lose.

  Tristan took a deep breath, giving himself one more chance to rethink things. Well, he tried. But a nanosecond later, he yanked off his shirt. Marcel wanted a fight? He’d get one.

  Yes, Tristan’s dragon hissed. Let’s get the bastard.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Natalie race-walked across the grass — a big no-no in any Paris park, but heck. She’d had it with men. Correction — she’d had it with dragons.

  We shall be mated, and you will be mine.

  Like hell, she would.

  You will bear my children…

  She couldn’t believe her ears. And worse, Tristan had shouldered right up to Marcel, fully expecting her to go along.

  Her face was twisted into so deep a frown, it hurt. All evening, Marcel had gotten on her nerves. And all evening, she couldn’t help wishing he could be more like…like… Well, more like Tristan. But apparently, Tristan had been harboring an ulterior motive all along. Did he expect her to bear his children and lend him the prestige of a Fire Maiden, too?

  Wisps of clouds drifted overhead, the precursors to a storm she should have seen building on the horizon. She stomped onward, furious with herself. Maybe she had some kind of hero complex when it came to Tristan. Maybe dragons had a heady scent that drove her wild. And she’d fallen for it, growing comfortable around him. Too comfortable, really, and far too trusting. Thinking he really cared about her, the plain Jane from Philadelphia, rather than a coveted Fire Maiden.

  It had been hard enough to swallow the whole Fire Maiden thing over the past days, but two aspects had appealed: getting to stay in Paris and helping the world be a safer place, if Alaric, Tristan, and the others could be believed. But now…

  She went from a jog to a run, desperate to get away. Could they force her to stay in Paris? Could they force her to accept Marcel’s barbaric proposal?

  Just as she was about to glance over her shoulder, the air overhead stirred wildly, and she stumbled to the ground.

  “What the—”

  She gaped as two dragons soared out of a cluster of trees and spiraled upward. Their mighty wings beat so hard, her hair tossed. One of the dragons was greenish-brown — Marcel? — and the other, a smooth, brownish-black hue.

  “Tristan,” she whispered.

  Yes, she’d seen him in dragon form once. And yes, she’d even touched his smooth, leathery skin. But the dragon she beheld at that moment had a whole different aura. It was like seeing a friendly dog wag its tail then witnessing the same animal snarling through teeth that dripped with saliva. That, times a hundred, because Tristan was racing, snapping, and roaring at Marcel. The roar didn’t register as a sound — only the rush of air did — but she could hear it in her mind.

  The dragons circled the Eiffel Tower, keeping far enough away to avoid the floodlights, but close enough to show the outline of their wings. They were soaring. Darting. Fighting?

  Natalie stared. Wait a minute. Weren’t they on the same side?

  Then she yelped and spun as someone grabbed her arm.

  “Whoa, there,” a familiar voice cried. The man held up his hands. “It’s me.”

  “Liam?” She’d nearly pulled her one-two-three move on him. Then she huffed and marched away.

  Liam was Tristan’s buddy, and he took orders from Alaric. Was he there to force her into a barbaric arrangement with Marcel, too?

  “Leave me alone,” she barked when he hurried to catch up.

  “Can’t. Vampires, remember?”

  She scowled, gesturing upward. “I’m starting to think dragons are a bigger problem.” Glaring at him, she added, “Or lions.”

  When Liam grinned shamelessly, his teeth showed. His canines extended before her eyes, and the stubble on his chin thickened. Natalie jumped, and he thrust his hands up.

  “Sorry, sorry. Lions have feelings too, you know.”

  “Don’t do that to me,” she yelled. Then she gathered her nerve and shoved him. “Go away. Go back to Alaric and tell him I’m out of here. I don’t want anything to do with your crazy shifter world.”

  But Liam, damn him, kept hurrying along at her side. “I hate to point this out, but you’re already part of it. Fire Maiden, remember?”

  “What if I don’t want to be a Fire Maiden?”

  “Tell that to the vampires.”

  Natalie slumped.

  “Listen,” Liam said in a softer voice. “I’m not here for Alaric or any of the other Guardians. I’m here for Tristan.”

  He gestured upward. The dragons were so high, she could barely tell them apart, but there was no mistaking the fighting. One stretched out its neck, reaching for the other’s wing. The second dodged and clawed at him. Natalie winced, picturing Tristan plummeting to the ground with shredded wings.

  Still, none of it made sense. They were supposed to be on the same side. Unless…

  Unless you misjudged Tristan completely? said a little voice in the back of her mind.

  She bit her lip. It sure didn’t look like Tristan was cooperating with Marcel. On the contrary, he was fighting the arrogant dragon away. Wait. Were they fighting over her?

  Disturbing as the idea was, it was flattering too. But not if Tristan was purely interested in her Fire Maiden blood. Then again, he had come to her aid in the alley, back before either of them knew about that.

  “Over here,” Liam urged, pulling her toward the shadow of a tree. “Don’t draw attention to them.”

  Natalie looked around. It was dark, and most visitors had drifted toward the jazz quartet. But how could anyone fail to notice two warring dragons?

  Liam shook his head. “There’s a veil that conceals our animal shapes — a holdover from the magic of old. It’s faded over the centuries, but enough has held up that humans overlook us most of the time. But if they look directly at us and concentrate…” He trailed off, glancing around.

  Natalie did the same, suddenly worried. What would happen if Tristan were spotted?

  “That’s another reason they’re so desperate for a Fire Maiden,” Liam whispered. “Her presence would stoke the magic and make the city safer.”

  She hugged herself, wishing she could go back to being the plain old Natalie no one took notice of. “Safer for shifters, you mean.”

  Liam shook his head. “Safer for everyone. A strong core of honest shifters helps stabilize the entire city. But even they need help. If the spell fades entirely, the city could revert back to the kind of fighting it saw in the Dark Ages. All those wars, all those diseases… They weren’t kidding about needing you, Natalie.”

  She took a deep breath. Could she really help?

  Then she looked back up at the dragons. “And they’re fighting over…”

  Liam snorted. “Over you, woman. Don’t you get it?”
/>   She went very still. It was one thing to flatter herself with such ideas. But for them to be true…

  Glancing up, Liam muttered, “Let’s hope they have the sense not to breathe fire.”

  Natalie’s eyes went wide as she followed the aerial dogfight. The dragons dove, bit, and raked each other with their claws. But no fire — yet. Within a few steps, she and Liam were in the shadows at the edge of the park where they could watch more openly.

  “Come on, Tristan,” Liam muttered. “Show the bastard.”

  Shielding her eyes from the Eiffel Tower’s floodlights, Natalie watched, sick yet fascinated. How could creatures that big be so nimble? With a snap of its tail, one of the dragons spun to face the other, and for a moment, they hovered in place, defying gravity — and each other.

  “No fire, lads,” Liam whispered. “Remember, no fire.” A moment later, he cursed. “Bugger.”

  “Tristan,” Natalie yelped as Marcel released a thin line of fire.

  But Tristan rolled to one side and hammered Marcel’s snout with his tail. The air crackled, but no one seemed to notice, especially with that storm brewing. A happy couple strolled by hand in hand, and the woman giggled at something the man said. Three young men walked in the opposite direction, noting that they’d better get moving before it rained. But no one noticed the battle raging overhead.

  Liam leaned closer. “You can see them, right? Do you hear them too?”

  Natalie gulped. Yes, she could. All too well.

  Liam grinned. “Attagirl. It’s the dragon blood in you. You see things humans miss.”

  The thing was, she didn’t want to see — or hear — the furious roars. Tristan feinted to one side then twisted in midair to slash at Marcel. When he spun, he curled his wings with a flourish, like a bullfighter taunting a charging bull.

  “Come on, Tristan.” Natalie found herself echoing Liam.

  But Marcel whipped his tail, smacking Tristan across the chest and sending him reeling through the air. A moment later, Tristan roared and counterattacked. Both dragons sped through the light of the quarter moon, then wheeled around and raced back toward the Eiffel Tower.

  Natalie motioned upward. “Do something. Help him.”

  Liam stuck up his hands. “I can’t.”