Her Dragon Temptation

by Olivia Arran

  There’d been brandy. Lots of it. Some sulking and a hell of a lot of self-loathing. Nothing new there.

  Pushing up from the floor, I staggered to my feet, swaying on legs as weak as a hatchling. I was missing something. Think!

  Huh. You’re awake now, my dragon snorted. Though, it was more of a deafening roar, designed to send my head spinning and fingers twitching as I hot footed it over to the bathroom to hunch over the sink.

  Moaning, I splashed ice-cold water on my face, eyeing the man in the mirror for answers. Bloodshot eyes stared back, none the wiser.

  “What the fuck happened last night?” Stripping off my clothes, I shoved on a pair of sweatpants, intending to sweat out the hangover the old fashioned way.

  You don’t remember?

  No. But you do, I snapped back inside my head, his smug tone grating on my already frazzled nerves. Why was he choosing to talk to me now? I gave up before the question had even formed, the pain inside my skull making it impossible to think clearly.

  His low chuckle had me storming out of the room, the door slamming behind me as I strode down the stairs, taking them two at a time. A good sparring session with the bag would send this hangover reeling into submission.

  Cursing a blue streak, I made my way into the kitchen, wrenched open the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water from the many stacked on the shelf. A soft gasp had me reeling around, up on the balls of my feet, arms raised and fists ready.

  A halo of light brown hair surrounded a soft, rounded face. Mousey brown, someone callous might call it, but in reality it was a glorious golden shade when caught by sunlight, as it was now. Hovering in front of the window, a coffee mug clasped in front of an ample chest—which happened to be displayed to perfection by a fitted, deep blue blouse—stood a woman. Her dark brown eyes clashed with mine, widening as she took me in.

  I closed my eyes briefly, counted to ten, then opened them again. Still there. My arms lowered to my sides, adrenaline evaporating in an instant. I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Who was she? It all came crashing back, almost splitting my head in two, as my dragon gave my memory a not so gentle helping hand. The brandy, the bright idea to find a mate, her, showing up at my door. “Faye.” It came out on an undignified croak.

  “You remember then? I wasn’t sure that you would, what with you being three sheets to the wind last night,” she murmured, relaxing back against the counter and taking a sip of her coffee. Her eyes watched me quietly over the rim of her mug, assessing and judging.

  “Of course I remember,” I half snarled, twisting off the bottle top and taking a swig of water.

  Her gaze tracked my movements, resting briefly on my bare chest but not lingering anywhere near long enough for my liking, before her head turned away to survey the room. The sharp sting to my ego didn’t go unnoticed. I only want her attention because I might take her as my mate.

  Whatever you want to tell yourself, Romeo, my dragon growled, not sounding too impressed with my argument. She’s nice.

  How would you know? I shot back, unwilling to admit that I halfway agreed with him. Not that it would do me any good—he was inside me, he could tell what I was thinking. That he could keep his thoughts from me—and he chose to do so—only served to widen the breach between us.

  A pause, then, I’d say trust me, but you’d only do the opposite.

  He had a point there.

  Talk to her, make up your own mind.

  I’d never heard him sound quite so diplomatic before. Or so much like his old self, and almost … wary?

  “It’s rude to talk to your animal side in public. Didn’t your Mom teach you that?” Her voice dragged me out of my head and back to the kitchen.

  The corner of my mouth quirked up. “My Mom’s dead, but yes, she did instill the importance of manners in me. My apologies.”

  She sucked in a breath, her eyes darkening. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  Cutting her off with a wave, I flashed her a smile designed to put her at ease. “It was a long time ago. So, you know about shifters then?” Moving over to the coffee pot, I filled a mug to the brim and took it over to the table in the center of the room, pushing out a chair with my foot in silent invitation.

  She hesitated, clearly not wanting to give up her space against the wall, but gave in with a reluctant sigh of defeat.

  The ripple of pleasure that hummed through me as she moved closer had alarm bells ringing and hairs lifting on the back of my neck. I fought back the urge to lean closer, maintaining my easy slouch and running a finger up and down my coffee mug. “How do you know about us?” I should be breathing a sigh of relief. Her knowing would make it easier if—and that was a big if—I decided to take her as my mate.

  “I knew a boy once—”

  She broke off at the sound of a low growl filling the air.

  Shit. I clamped my mouth shut, avoiding her eyes. What the fuck was that about?

  “—He shifted into a wolf to impress me. His family wasn’t too pleased, but they couldn’t undo the damage, so I was sworn into secrecy.” Her voice was light, but the purse of her lips had me guessing that it hadn’t been quite that easy an ordeal.

  “I bet they weren’t,” I muttered, more to acknowledge her words than anything else. “At least you have some idea of what you’re signing up for.”

  “Excuse me?” She blinked at me, her lips rounded in a perfect circle of surprise.

  “Yes, of course, you can still say no.” I brushed aside her concern with a broad smile, alleviating my own concerns with the reassurance that I could do the same.

  Her lips settled into a grim line, her hands twisting together around her mug as she stared me down. “Bastian, say no to what, exactly?”

  Damn, she was hot when she got all prim and uptight. It got a man fantasizing about how to loosen her up and make her smile. I circled my finger in the air between us. “Us.”

  Her eyebrows flew up, her chin dropping. “Us?” It came out on a squeak.

  “You and me.” My voice dropped to a low, gravelly growl as my dragon leaned in, offering his approval. Not that I needed a damn thing from him.

  She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Regarding me as though I’d recently missed my medication, she shook her head, sending dark curls swishing over her shoulders and trailing down onto her chest.

  I couldn’t help it. I looked. I was male, after all. I blinked as the creamy mounds swelled beneath her shirt, rising then dipping with every breath. Saliva pooled in my mouth, need thundering through me unlike any I’d felt before.

  Her throat cleared, dragging my attention back to her face. “I don’t know what it is that you’re … imagining is happening here, Bastian, but I think we’ve got out wires crossed.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the laughter dancing in hers.

  “I’m here to audit you. For the Shifter Council.” She leaned forward, an apologetic expression on her face and my heart skittered in my chest. “Bastian, you need my approval to continue running the Jewelcrest Clan.”

  The chair flew out from behind me, crashing into the wall and clattering down onto the slate floor. My fingers dug into the soft wood of the table, curling around the edge until I was certain there would be claw marks. Dragging in a ragged breath, fire raging through my blood and steam clouding my vision, I pinned her down with my glare. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Faye

  Now this was what I’d been expecting upon my arrival at the Jewelcrest Clan. A pissed off, thinks he’s above the law, alpha shifter with a chip on his shoulder the size of his ego. Now, I was in familiar territory.

  Smoke curled across the table in a wispy trail, his anger given substance in the form of his beast. Visible tension trembled through his shoulders, his skin gleaming as his core temperature rose along with his anger.

  Refusing to let him intimidate me, I pushed back my chair and rose to my feet, so I could face him eye to eye. “I’ve read your file. You need me
here.”

  A strangled groan forced its way past his thinned lips. “I don’t need anyone.”

  I clucked my tongue, shaking my head. “That’s not the tune you’ve been singing since I arrived last night.”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining,” he muttered under his breath.

  He had me there, but what woman in her right mind wouldn’t have been bowled over by a man as attractive as Bastian showering her with attention? “You need me,” I repeated, emphasizing my words by jabbing my finger on the table. “The Shifter Council wants me to look over your books and decide where the money is to be spent.”

  That shut him up, the low rumbly growl cutting off in an instant. Though his eyes were still flashing with heat. “What money?”

  “The money Astrid is giving back to the clan from her inheritance. You didn’t know?”

  A fraction of a pause, then, “I forgot.” His face hardened, all traces of warmth wiped away.

  Sure you did. Taking a sip of my now nearly cold coffee, I forced a smile, trying to ignore the disappointment welling up inside me as any chance of a little extracurricular booty call vanished.

  “What exactly do you mean by you’ll decide?” he snapped.

  Ah … how to phrase this. Throwing caution to the wind I laid it all on the table. “I’ve been named temporary treasurer for the Jewelcrest Clan.” And I was pretty sure that was the highest insult one could give a dragon, after all, they were very protective and secretive about their hoard of treasure, even in this day and age. I’d heard the stories—the Council had made sure I understood exactly what I’d be getting into—though they’d left out a few pertinent details, in my mind, anyway. Like the dragon shifter in question being the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on!

  “Why you, Faye?”

  Not sweetheart, anymore. I bit back the sigh, convincing myself that I should be grateful he hadn’t spewed flames at me over the kitchen table, or locked me up in his lair until I conceded to his every whim. This time the sigh escaped, and it was dosed with a good amount of longing.

  His eyebrow arched, and he leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. “You’re human,” he stated. “Why you … sweetheart?” He dragged out the endearment, drawling the word as if it were a loving caress in itself—a whisper between lovers amongst tangled sheets and slick skin.

  A tremor worked its way down my spine, coiling in my stomach, fluttering and hot. “I have years of experience.”

  He snorted, a puff of steam shooting out of his nostrils as he shook his head. “Years? You barely look like you’ve started your twenties.”

  “I’m older than I look. I have good genes.” I sounded defensive, dammit. I couldn’t help it if I didn’t look my age, or that I wasn’t smooth or sophisticated or polished. He should count himself lucky that I had pulled a brush through my hair this morning and shaved my legs.

  “Yes. You do.” He had a speculative gleam in his eyes, as though he had read my inner thoughts and found them amusing.

  “I am more than qualified to do this.”

  Righting the fallen chair, he lowered himself down, smoothing his hands across the table. He cocked his head, as though listening to an unheard voice. Then, “Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?”

  He sounded completely reasonable. Calm. Too calm. So I sat. “Sure. You want to interview me?” Not that it would make any difference; he couldn’t make me leave, not unless he wanted to leave too. A twinge inside my stomach had me shuffling on my seat.

  His first few questions were routine, enquires about education and experience, something I could field with my eyes closed since I hadn’t been lying. I was more than capable of doing what I’d come here to do. My gaze flickered to the table, where his fingers were drawing circles on the scored wood, round and round, twining back and forth in a hypnotic dance.

  He had elegant hands. Long fingers with blunt, neat nails. Strong and capable I mused, taking in the hard calluses revealed with every turn.

  “Faye?”

  “Huh? Yes?”

  A low chuckle, then, “How long are you going to be staying here, with me?” His already deep voice dropped to an even lower, huskier tone on the last word, his fingers pausing on their winding journey as if to add their emphasis.

  The air thickened, every sucked in breath thick with his scent. A smoky smell, bitter yet sweet all at the same time. Utterly masculine. “As long as it takes.”

  His fingers resumed their caress, because that’s what it was, a slow, loving caress on the wood. Gentle and calm, yet poised to attack. “As what takes?”

  I was starting to wish I’d accepted the job in California instead. A bit of sun would have done me some good, but, no, my curiosity had landed me smack bang in the middle of something I was starting to think I didn’t stand a chance of winning. “For you to pass my test.”

  “What test?”

  I folded my arms over my chest as an armor against his persuasive grin. Two can play his game of half answers and misdirection. “If you knew, then it wouldn’t really be fair, would it?”

  “How is it fair if I don’t know the rules?”

  Would it make a difference? “Do you ever play by the rules?” I shot back.

  He folded his arms over his chest, mocking me.

  Though while I probably looked like a woman trying too hard to be tough, he didn’t even need to try, his thick biceps bunching and shoulders squaring like small mountains. Dark stubble lined his jaw, merging into thick, black hair that hung over eyes that stared at me, unblinking. I took back my earlier assessment: he wasn’t just gorgeous, he was edible. Mouth watering, panty dropping, wickedly-combustible-thoughts edible.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Maybe. Sometimes. When it’ll get me what I want.”

  “And what do you want?” My mouth bypassed my brain without applying any kind of a filter.

  “That depends on exactly what is on offer.” He delivered the statement without a hint of heat, but his eyes left me in no doubt exactly to what he was inferring. What he was offering.

  I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open, but I couldn’t be sure, since my body was a big ball of heat, heat rushing to my cheeks and between my legs in a surge that left me gasping. If he could do this to me just by looking at me, what would happen if—

  “Hold that thought, sweetheart.” This time his smile was pure smirk as he fished a small cell phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen open. Less than five minutes later he was ending the call with a frown.

  “The Shifter Council confirmed my authority?” I’d found my voice again. Thank God.

  “They did.” He was staring at the phone in his hand like he’d never seen it before in his life. “This is really happening,” he whispered. A lost look flitted over his features, a blankness seeping into his eyes.

  I was pretty sure he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He wasn’t looking for sympathy. He appeared to have forgotten I was even sitting there, the silence stretching on and on as he continued to resemble a statue.

  I had come into his home and turned his life upside down. He needed me to be professional and fair, to find a way for him to keep his clan and home. He needed me to do my job, and I hadn’t been lying when I said I was very good. I was the best, my eidetic memory lending itself to facts and figures in a way that surpassed all of my peers.

  I had to stay impersonal and impartial. I owed him that. It was the right thing to do.

  So why did I feel like screaming?

  Chapter Three

  Bastian

  I could feel her watching me, her gaze burning into me. Her breathing was slowly returning to normal, her arms falling back down to her sides and fists unclenching. She was such a tiny thing, yet still so full of life and potential. Fire—that’s what she had—burning bright inside that devious mind of hers. Giving me no choice but to do as she ask.

  But it would be on my terms.

  Once she had what she’d come for, she’d go. No
thing more, nothing less. She wasn’t the right woman for me to take as a mate, too human, too spirited, too … intriguing. Too much fire to ever submit to my loveless conditions. Too much of a risk.

  Taking a deep breath, I gestured for her to follow me, leading the way out into the hallway and down to my office. Pushing open the door, instinct had me holding it open so she had to brush past on her way in, refusing to move out of the way.

  Her hair drifted on the air, tickling my nose as strands twisted into tiny corkscrews bounced with her steps. Summer meadows and wildflowers in bloom saturated every forced inhalation, driving me faster and faster toward a madness I already knew awaited.

  It would only take a moment to throw her over my shoulder, carry her upstairs and deposit her on my bed.

  Where she belongs … my dragon whispered in a throaty growl.

  If she struggled, I’d smack her juicy, bouncing ass, claim her lips and plunder her mouth, silence her with my hands and body until she could only moan and scream. Keep her hidden away in my room until she saw the truth—that she belonged to me. Only me. No other man. Mine.

  Fuck.

  My cock strained, throbbing, harder than I’d ever been before, balls tight and heavy, primed for action.

  I sagged back against the door, shoving a hand in my pocket and palming my shaft. I was contemplating acting like a caveman, territorial bullshit, which meant only one thing. Faye might be my true mate.

  Which meant she was more dangerous than any shifter I knew. Hell, more dangerous than if one hundred of the motherfuckers descended on me declaring all out war.

  She might be the one created for me, as I was for her. My other half, my missing soulmate.

  And my dragon had suspected as such the moment we’d laid eyes on her. He had known what this meant, how I’d feel about it, but had he warned me? No. Yet another thing to add to the list.

  I just had to resist the urge. I swiped a hand over my face, wiping away the small telltale beads of sweat. It couldn’t be that hard, could it? “Make yourself at home.” I gestured to my large desk, proud that my voice didn’t crack, though it did sound a little hoarse.