Dragon: The Clan Legacy Series

by J. S. Striker

  “I’m the man for the job.”

  “Great,” John said with a sigh. “I could help, but I want to keep up my human appearances and not disappear when we get victims. I need to reassure the townspeople with my presence.”

  Erik nodded, opting not to say that a cat shifter wouldn’t be much help, anyway—not when the victims were torn apart like this. John went on to explain that the attackers didn’t stay in the same town for too long—either they got tired of staying in once place easily, or just didn’t want to draw too much attention.

  When they were done discussing, they both stood up and shook hands.

  “I’ll take care of this problem for you, Sheriff.”

  That was, after all, what he came here for. Shifters like his kind were meant to protect—with the right incentive and motive.

  “Great. Let me show you where you’ll live in the meantime. There is plenty of food and honey in stock.”

  Wonderful. A sheriff after Erik’s heart.

  The sheriff led the way out of his office. With one last glance at the folder, Erik followed.

  *****

  He hadn’t been lounging in his new house—a one-story suburban style place with a bedroom and the basic appliances needed—for more than an hour when he saw lights turn on at the house next door, and voices carrying through. He was standing in the kitchen, eating a juicy steak and contemplating dessert when his sensitive ears picked up the male and female tones.

  Quietly, Erik moved towards the living room, not turning any of his own lights on. Through the window, he saw the man—an affable looking fellow who seemed to be trying his hardest to make the woman laugh. Erik noted that his tone was verging on desperate, and wondered how long until the woman cracked.

  Erik couldn’t see the woman with the way the porch arch was blocking her from sight, but it was obvious from her tone that she was being painfully polite…and putting him in the friend zone. Erik couldn’t help his grin when the persistent date finally got the picture as she didn’t invite him inside for coffee and practically slammed the door in his face.

  “Call me when you can!” the man shouted hopefully before dejectedly shuffling away.

  Erik chuckled, then shook his head. He went back to the kitchen to take care of the dishes, the neighbor forgotten as he got lost in his own thoughts. It was too early to shift and scout the area, especially with someone his size—he would need to do that later when everyone was asleep. Valley Joy had lots of forest areas, but it would be best to start securing the houses nearby first before venturing there. In this case, he only had two neighbors in this particularly area, so that was going to be a cinch.

  He placed the dishes in the dishwasher, then decided that dessert would be a good idea right now. A light turned on in front of the kitchen window beside his sink. Erik looked up.

  He froze.

  The polite woman from earlier was now in his field of vision—clearly so. She’d turned on the lights in her kitchen, where a wide window gave him a view of her going to the fridge to pour herself a glass of white wine.

  But that wasn’t the only thing she was doing.

  Erik watched as the woman drank the wine in one huge gulp, then took out the bottle again and started drinking from there. Two gulps, before she placed it back.

  He watched as she began removing her dress, right there in plain view, shimmying it down until he was treated to the sight of creamy skin, a perky butt and a handful of breasts encased in tight, tight underwear. Her hands went to remove her hair from its chignon, and brown hair cascaded down her slender shoulders. He could see her face—not gorgeous, but arresting enough to catch his attention as he took in her long lashes and dark-colored eyes.

  Pink lips made for kissing.

  Then the woman turned around and bent over to pick up something she’d dropped.

  And what had been passing interest for Erik suddenly shifted to full blown desire.

  He imagined that ass on his hands, where he molded them as he pressed his front against her back and kissed that soft-looking spot at the nape of her neck. Then he imagined sucking on it before he turned her around to face him and kissed her mouth instead, her soft moan urging him on as he began sliding her underwear off. Then his fingers would be there, slipping inside her. Then his fingers would be replaced by his cock as he thrust inside her wet heat…

  The fantasy was so vivid, Erik had to take a physical step back as he felt his blood pound and his erection strain against his pants. Then he reined in his control, telling himself to get a grip. This wasn’t the time to be a horny bastard, not when he had a job to do.

  But Jesus, it had been a few months since he’d last slept with a woman.

  Still, this was wrong. He shouldn’t be peeping on an innocent woman, because that just made him an asshole.

  He glanced through her kitchen once more, and to his relief, she was no longer there. But where were her curtains? Why were her windows all open?

  And why the hell was she undressing just for anyone out there to see?

  Arousal changed to irritation. Erik shook his head, deciding it was none of his business—for about five minutes.

  What if her desperate date came back and did more than look?

  Erik growled at the thought. Then he was marching out of his house and striding towards hers before he could even think about it.

  Someone needed to be lectured about the importance of safety and not undressing for the world to see.

  CHAPTER TWO

  That had to be one of the worst dates of her life.

  Charlotte tried not to let the frustration of the night get to her as she went to her bedroom to don a robe before going back to the kitchen. She took out ingredients from her cupboards, intent on baking some gooey brownies and drinking wine for the rest of the night.

  The evening had started pretty well. George had been nice and well-educated, and they got along well chatting over dinner. But then he started to hint about after dinner, and maybe she’d have considered it—if he had allowed the first date to stay as it was and asked her out for a second one.

  But no. Nice George turned into persistent George as he insisted that she needed to come to his apartment and see his new stereo. Then persistent George began to turn into desperate George as he then insisted to take her home, where he proceeded to give her a kiss before inviting himself inside for coffee.

  No, thank you.

  And that had to be the most unrequited kiss ever.

  She was done with men for now. None of the guys in town were just worth it anymore—though, if she was to be more honest with herself, perhaps the problem lay with her. It seemed like she couldn’t feel anything with any of the guys she’d gone out with, no matter how charming or handsome or well-mannered they were. The kiss with George didn’t even feel good—it felt like she was kissing her brother, and Lord knew that wasn’t exciting at all.

  As for sex? Charlotte opened a package of chocolate chips almost viciously. It wasn’t anything home to write about, either.

  She was about to measure all the ingredients when the ding on her bell sounded. She groaned.

  Oh, lord. Did George come back?

  He so was gonna get an ear full.

  Charlotte left the kitchen and stalked towards the front door, glancing down to pull her robe tighter around her. She pasted another polite smile on her face and opened her mouth at the same time, intent on driving him away.

  “George, you really ought to go home, I’m really lacking sleep and…”

  Her voice trailed off when she finally absorbed the sight in front of her.

  It was a man she didn’t know—a vision of a man, to be exact, with a body that looked hard and unrelenting and a face that was equal parts gorgeous and striking. Muscles were obvious on the thighs encased in blue jeans, and under the plain white shirt he wore. There were also tattoos there, swirling just underneath his short sleeves, and it made her itch to touch.

  What a visual, appealing body.


  Then Charlotte got to perusing his face again, where she was treated to the sight of a firm, sensuous mouth, a well-defined jaw, a head of black hair, and eyes that were a deep, smoky gray.

  Oh, God. And she thought he was George. And she—

  “You really ought to buy some curtains.”

  Charlotte blinked, her thoughts interrupted.

  “I’m sorry?”

  It was then that she noticed that his eyes were doing the same perusal as well—only the way he did his felt like he was undressing her with his eyes, and her body reacted almost like...it liked it. Heat shot in her stomach, unbidden.

  “You’re proudly displaying all your assets to all the perverts out there.”

  His words registered. Her eyes flew back up to meet his, and she finally realized that there was a hint of irritation there.

  “My assets?” she echoed.

  He did that eye perusal again until she couldn’t mistake his words. Her interest turned to outrage in the span of a second.

  “You were looking at me undress?” she spat out.

  One side of his mouth slid up in a sardonic smile. “Sweetheart, you were just begging me to look.”

  Of all the rude, pigheaded things to say.

  The outrage increased, making Charlotte lift her chin and scoff at him indignantly. “I didn’t expect there to be a pervert watching me. I live alone here…”

  Her voice trailed off. She did live alone here, with her only nearby neighbor being the forest, a family who were on vacation, and an empty house beside hers. Her stance grew rigid in a defensive pose, and she ran through her mind all the things she had in her house that she could use to hit him. God, her gun was in the drawer in her room.

  For some reason, the man seemed to read what she was thinking about. She heard a soft curse come from him, the irritability in his tone increasing.

  “I’m not a serial killer,” he ground out. “I’m not a rapist, either.”

  “I never said—”

  “Erik O’Riley.”

  He held out a hand. She glanced at the house to her right, where she noticed that the light on the front porch was now turned on.

  Mortification filled her.

  “Your sheriff is John Malone. I’m good friends with him.”

  “I know that,” she said, her mouth dry. It was the sheriff himself who told her and the other family before they left for vacation that he was having a friend of his stay at the house next door for the summer—something about the man needing to be away from the city for a while.

  Feeling guilty all of a sudden, Charlotte took the hand he offered and shook it. “Charlotte Brandt.”

  And wished she hadn’t.

  The moment their hands touched, the heat in her belly spread. Electricity traveled through her fingers, a jolt that took whatever breath she had left out of her body. Her breasts tingled out of her own accord, and she saw his eyes darken from gray to an almost black color.

  “Then you know you can’t undress like that anymore,” he murmured.

  “Fine,” she said, breathless. She removed her hand from his grip, scalded. “Curtains.”

  “And be mindful of your neighbors. Others might have the decency to be embarrassed about it…but I always look, Miss Brandt.”

  With that scathing remark, he nodded his head once. Charlotte gaped for a second before her eyes narrowed.

  “Gentlemen wouldn’t look, Mr. O’Riley,” she shot back.

  “I’m not a gentleman.”

  “That’s pretty obvious.”

  “And lock your doors at night,” he said tightly.

  Then he was stalking away from her driveway without so much as a goodbye. Suddenly furious, Charlotte slammed the door before she could start ogling his ass and make an idiot out of herself.

  Her heart was beating so fast, and she had to put a hand over it to calm herself down.

  Great. She wasn’t attracted to boring, perfectly nice men, but she was off the charts over a rude one.

  No can do.

  Charlotte locked her door, as he oh-so-arrogantly instructed.

  Then she stalked towards the kitchen, intent on baking brownies and forgetting about arrogant jerks.

  *****

  The sound on her front door woke Charlotte up in the middle of the night—pounding sounds, so loud that she could hear them through her own bedroom. She stumbled out of bed immediately, pausing only to rummage blindly in the dark for her gun before tiptoeing towards the living room. She didn’t dare turn any light on to gain some advantage.

  Who on earth would be at her house at this time of the night?

  She had her hand on the knob, about to call out to ask who it was when instincts kicked in and stopped her from saying anything. An ominous feeling settled in her chest, heavy and making breathing difficult.

  There was something out there, her instincts screamed. Something dark and dangerous.

  She took one more step forward, as quiet as a mouse.

  Charlotte froze when scratching sounds started. It was faint, and it only lasted a few seconds. Then it was followed by the sound of footsteps crunching on her gravel—not necessarily announcing itself, but not bothering to be all discreet about it either.

  More scratching near her kitchen. Her blood went cold as she inched towards it, her hand trembling as she furiously tried to think if she locked it—if she closed the second door or just let the glass door stand—

  She arrived in the kitchen.

  Locked.

  More scratching. It was fainter now, almost as if…taunting her.

  Human? A wolf? But there were no wolves around here usually.

  Charlotte stayed where she was, frozen in place as she listened. Her body was trembling, but her hand was steady, ready to pull the trigger at any second.

  The scratching stopped, leaving a menacing silence in the air.

  Gravel crunched. Footsteps retreated.

  But Charlotte didn’t open the door. Instead, she stayed near the couch and kept her senses on alert, searching her mind for what it could be. Her first suspect was Erik, but it didn’t stick.

  Humans simply didn’t scratch doors like that.

  She was going to have to guard herself tonight and report to the sheriff early tomorrow.

  Then maybe, just maybe, find out more about this Erik O’Riley.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The creature certainly didn’t waste time once it got to town.

  Erik had a light sleep of about two hours before he heard it—someone stalking outside, but not on his yard. It hadn’t taken him long to remove his sweatpants, which was the only thing he was wearing before quietly opening the bedroom window and slipping out in the dead of night.

  There was no full moon, but that was no problem for Erik. He could see his own yard pretty clearly, filled with enough bushes for him to hide in. So he snuck over to one until he was relatively covered and let his eyes sweep the area slowly.

  His gaze stopped as a shadow moved in Charlotte’s yard. He crawled even closer, as close as he dared without disturbing any of the loose stones or branches. The shadow stepped closer, a black blur that seemed small from this distance as it moved towards Charlotte’s front porch. It paused there, perfectly still, and Erik was finally able to view it fully.

  It wasn’t as small as he thought.

  The creature was unlike any he’d ever seen before. It had the body of a hyena, only bigger, with spots at differing spaces and a tail that was filled with dull yellow spikes. Its paws were huge, not necessarily paws but more a scatter of sharp claws that were too pointed and sharp—almost like a predator bird’s, he realized. The size alone could tear anything that got in its way, but it barely left any evidence of footsteps in the yard, an indication that it was light on its feet.

  The face was filled with pockmarks, sharp, serrated teeth in a huge jaw, and dull yellow eyes.

  What the hell was he looking at?

  Erik tensed as the creature began pounding on the door, even
when it only lasted a few seconds. Pounding turned to scratching, and he waited in his spot and readied himself to shift as images of Charlotte turning on her lights filled his mind—as well as that of her opening the door.

  She’d be dead on the spot.

  More seconds passed, and the scratching continued. But no light was turned on, and no sounds came from inside. Unless she was a heavy sleeper, he doubted she’d have missed all that commotion.

  Which meant she was one smart girl.

  The creature gave up scratching, lurking at the corners with its eyes fixed on the house. Then it started scratching at the back again, softer this time, almost as if testing.

  What was it up to?

  Erik made a move forward—and almost wished he didn’t, because even if he didn’t make any noise, the creature’s head came up, staring straight in his direction. He saw cold, merciless eyes, that of a cold-blooded predator.

  Then the creature ran away in a blur.

  He inwardly cursed. Then Erik went sprinting after it into the forest where it went, feeling his body vibrate with an energy for a few seconds as he leapt in the air. When he landed, his hands and feet were gone, replaced by paws. His body was different, too.

  He was now a predator.

  The forest usually made a lot of noise at night, but this time Erik couldn’t hear the shuffle of tiny animals or the hoot of an owl. He ran as fast as his body could carry him, but it seemed the creature was fast—faster than he’d given it credit for, already disappearing from his sight. He came across a clearing by a creek, and pointedly stopped just before the trees gave way, his ears waiting for any sudden movement or sound.

  None came.

  He’d completely lost it.

  Still not wanting to give up, Erik kept running, circling the area twice, trying to catch movement or any unusual scent in the air. But there really was nothing. Usually, most creatures left at least something behind—a trace or an essence, a whiff for him to keep tracking.

  But there was nothing.

  Frustration hit the back of his throat as he circled the area for the third time. He waited some more—but two hours later proved no trace of it still, and he couldn’t very well stay here for long. Dawn was coming.