Haunted By Her Dragon (The Dragon Guard Series)

by Mills, Julia

  Haunted By Her Dragon

  Dragon Guard Series #3

  By

  Julia Mills

  There Are No Coincidences. The Universe Does Not Make Mistake.

  Fate Will Not Be Denied.

  Copyright © 2014 Julia Mills

  All Rights Reserved

  DISCLAIMER: The characters, locations and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used factiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  NOTICE: This is an adult erotic paranormal romance with love scenes and mature situations. It is only intended for adult readers over the age of 18.

  Also by Julia Mills

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  Her Dragon to Slay, Dragon Series #1

  Her Dragon’s Fire, Dragon Series #2

  DEDICATION

  “Writing is a solitary experience.” I still don’t understand that statement. For me, it is any but. Without the help and love of each person here and so many more, I would never write a word, much less publish a book. Only through their continued support am I able to do what I love. Thank you to each and every one of you, from the bottom of my heart.

  Thank you, God.

  To my girls, Liz and Em, I Love You. Every day, every way, always.

  To Emma Edwards, the absolute best writing partner in the world. You are BEAUTIFULLY BRILLIANT in every way. Is it Wine Day yet?

  To Charlene Bauer aka Bold, who has listened to me whine, complain, vent and be more than a little silly but more importantly, without whom this book would’ve been titled, Dragon Guard #3 because I couldn’t think of a title to save my hide. You are AWESOME!

  To Charlene Cain aka Cain, for your WORDS and constant support!

  To the coolest, most SPECTACULAR group of beta readers a writer could ever have.

  To JD Nelson without whom the Dragon Guard never would have come to life.

  To all the WONDERFUL authors I am honored to call friends! You are all truly inspirational! Thank you!

  To all my beautiful Facebook friends and family for always making me laugh and reminding me to never take myself too seriously.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I only write the books, these amazing people make them presentable in every sense of the word. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to each and every one of you.

  ~Linda Boulanger with Tell-Tale Book Covers, you are TRULY TALENTED. Your art brings my work to life. I am honored.

  ~Lisa Miller with Angel Editing Service, thank you for adding the commas, fixing all my crazy spellings and making me sound like I know what I’m doing. You ROCK.

  ~My Beautiful Beta Readers, Tonya Allen, Heather Andrews, Cindy Barton, Faith Bates, Charlene Bauer, Karen Branch, Charlene Cain, Bonnie Dahl-Rediske, Rosemary Hendry, Laurie Johnson, Kelly Kaese, Tiffany Lagrone, Rebecca Larsen, Krissenda Leigh-Pink, Karen Mikhael, Lisa Miller, Elisa O’Bryan, MJ Prater, Anna Salamatin, Jacklynn Sizemore, Robin Smith, Carrie The Book Fairy, Bridget Thomas-Parker, Cindy Turner, Melanie Williams, Kaycee. You are absolutely AMAZING. I could not do it without each and every one of you.

  ~Michelle with We Love Kink Book Tours & Promotions for getting the word out and introducing so many people to the Dragon Guard.

  ~Kelli Smith with Totally Talented Promotions for throwing fabulous release day parties every time.

  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

  EPILOGUE

  HER DRAGON TO SLAY

  Index of the Words of Love of Original the Dragon Kin

  Drakes

  Male Dragons

  Vibrias

  Female Dragons

  Dragonettes

  Young Dragons,

  either male or female

  Mo chroi

  My Heart

  Mo ghra’

  My Love

  Evgren

  Sunshine

  Ta’mo chroi

  istigh ionat

  My Heart Is

  Within You

  A Thaisce

  My Treasure

  M’Anamchara

  Soul Mate

  A Chumann

  Sweetheart

  M’Fhioghara’

  Mate

  Fi’orghra’

  True Love

  CHAPTER ONE

  Twenty-four hour shifts were going to be the death of her, especially when they lasted almost thirty. Of course she had no one to blame but herself. She could have said no when Dr. Monoghan asked her to assist with an appendectomy and no had been on the tip of her tongue. But then she’d caught sight of the messy blonde curls spilling over the pillow as her mentor pointed towards their patient, and she knew this was one she couldn’t ignore. Monoghan’s entire surgical team was male, and very good at their chosen professions. Unfortunately, they knew how good they were and their bedside manner sucked. There was no way the little tow-headed sprite she had heard singing from her room would’ve been able to relax in the presence of the massive amounts of testosterone they spewed. So she grabbed her thirteenth cup of coffee of the day, prayed for no complications, and headed in to see her patient. Nothing could have prepared her for the innocent blue eyes surrounded by long thick lashes, topping the cutest little chubby cheeks in the world that looked up at her as she knocked on the half closed door. For a second, she thought of another pair of azure eyes, eyes that heated her from the inside out and promised hot sweaty nights spent satiating each other’s needs.

  Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she walked to the end of the bed and grabbed the chart. “Hi, Sydney, I’m Dr. Malone. You can call me, Dr. Sam.”

  The sweet girl giggled, “Sam is a boy’s name.”

  “You are right,” she smiled, “Unless it’s a nickname for Samantha.”

  Visibly relaxing for the first time since Sam had entered the room, her patient answered, “Oh that makes sense. There was a Samantha at my old school, but we never called her Sam, she wanted to be called Samantha…Samantha Jane.” Sydney thought for a moment, “Sam sure would’ve been easier.”

  “It sure would’ve been,” she agreed, smiling at the obviously intelligent child before her. “Did you recently change schools?” She looked towards the woman sitting in the chair, who continued to mess with her cell phone, basically ignoring the child in the hospital bed, and Sam thought it was an opportune time for the adult in the room to speak up. When said ‘adult’ did not even look up, Sam checked the file, not surprised to find that the woman was a social worker, not a family member. Sam and Sydney were definitely on their own for this exam, and she figured that was easier anyway.

  “It says here that you have a tummy ache.” She pointed to the chart she still held. “Can you show me exactly where it hurts?”

  “Right here,” Sydney said as she placed her little chubby hands across her midsection and scrunched up her nose. “But I really just want to go home.”

  “Now, Sydney, you know the doctor in the emergency room said you need an operation,” the woman from the chair stated in a flat, irritating tone, finally entering the conversation, but still not glancing up.

  The thought of smacking the woman danced through Sam’s coffee soaked brain. She wondered if that might get some kind of reaction. Instead of acting on her thoughts, she turned just in time to see Sydne
y’s eyes fill with tears. Before the first one could fall, Sam asked, “Have you ever been in a hospital before?” As soon as it was out of her mouth, she wished it back. Dammit, she knew better! You never asked a ward of the state if they’ve been in the hospital when you didn’t know the whole story. What a rookie mistake! One she wouldn’t have made had she not been so incredibly frustrated with the woman to her right. The next thing she heard simultaneously broke her heart and filled her with pride.

  “Yes, Dr. Sam, I was in the hospital the day the big truck hit our car,” Sydney continued in an unwavering tone, simply explaining the facts, all traces of her previous weakness gone. “Mommy and Daddy went to heaven, and I went to live in the ‘big house’ with all the other kids. Miss Crutchfield,” Sydney looked over at the woman and rolled her little eyes, “She’s my social worker. I have no aunties or uncles, and my nana and pop pop are already in heaven. It’s okay there, but I really wish I could go back to my old school to see my friends.”

  Sam counted to ten in her head, battling her anger, and returned her focus to her patient. Sydney was a tough little girl and one smart cookie. The child went on to tell Sam that the accident had happened about six months ago and that she was waiting to go live with a foster family. She spoke like a miniature adult, using all the correct terms and stating the facts of her situation with detached accuracy while she was examined. The fact that the child was sharing the information and the useless state employee was busy with an inanimate object, caused Sam’s barely controlled anger to boil again. Why the hell did people with no interest in caring for children become social workers? Shouldn’t they at least care about the little people they were responsible for? She’d seen it happen time after time; the people, who were supposed to help the ‘lost children’, as her foster mom had called them, did not give a damn. They were there for the salary and the benefits that came with a State job, not the welfare of the children. Her one constant wish was to somehow change the system she had grown up in after the death of her mom and sister. The only way she knew change would happen was to work from inside the system, and there were only two ways to do that; become a politician, or be a foster parent. Politics would never be something she was good at; she didn’t have a politically correct bone in her body. However, she could see herself as a foster parent, being a true advocate for children who grew up as she did. Of course, that would have to wait until she wasn’t working thirty hours a day, six days a week.

  “I know you do, Sweetheart, but today we need to get that sick appendix out so you feel better.”

  “Can’t you just give me some medicine? I really don’t want to have an operation.”

  Before Sam could answer, Miss Crutchfield’s monotone voice sounded, causing her fists to clench in an effort to keep from striking the useless woman. “Sydney, just do what the doctor says. Don’t make trouble,” and then the woman had the audacity to sigh.

  Without a second thought, Sam reached across and grabbed the cell phone from the social worker’s hands. When she looked up to complain, Miss Crutchfield’s face lost all color. Sam could only imagine the expression she wore, but was too pissed off to give a shit. The woman was supposed to be caring for the sweet child, easing her fear at having surgery, being Sydney’s support system, not sitting like a high school girl obsessed with her cell phone. She leaned down so that they were eye to eye, “Miss Crutchfield, my name is Dr. Malone. Now, you can either be part of the solution or part of the problem. If you would like to remain in this room, you will need to be part of the solution. If you would like to continue to completely ignore the child that needs your attention, then I suggest you go to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee while we finish up Sydney’s pre-op visit.” Miss Crutchfield’s face immediately turned three shades of red and without a word. She shot from her chair, took her phone from Sam’s outstretched hand, and marched out of the room.

  The cutest little giggle came from behind her and immediately calmed her temper. When she looked, Sydney had both of her pudgy little hands covering her mouth while her shoulders bounced with laughter. Just to see the child laughing, no matter how inappropriate, made all the frustration with the useless State employee worthwhile and let her know that, at least the child wasn’t having too much pain at the moment. It would not do to have her suffering. Smiling while holding back her own laughter, she said, “You think that was funny, do you?” Little blonde curls bounced as Sydney nodded. “Well, it was between two adults,” Sam leveled her stare just a bit. “Always remember your manners.”

  “Yes, Dr. Sam,” the child answered, still giggling.

  Letting the subject drop, Sam moved on, “Okay, Miss Sydney, I’m going to show you exactly what will happen during your surgery and answer any questions you may have. Then Dr. Schwartz will be in to give you some medicine that’ll make you sleepy. Sound good to you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The child smiled, and all the long hours seemed worth it just to know that she could help people that truly needed it. Once she finished her surgical residency, she wanted to be a General Practitioner where children and the elderly were the focus of her practice, no matter where she ended up. Charlie, officially known as Dr. Charlene Gallagher had teased her from the moment they declared the specialties in med school about her ‘opposite ends of the spectrum’ focus. That was not the only ribbing she took but at least at school Charlie had to bear it, too. Their classmates had really had a blast with the fact that Sam and Charlie were roommates and best friends, ‘the girls with boys’ names’.

  After about fifteen minutes of explaining, complete with a stuffed, cloth appendix, colored Expo markers, and a mini white board, Sydney seemed completely at ease. Sam stayed when the anesthesiologist came in. As her little patient started to yawn, she explained one more time, told the little sweetheart she would see her in a few minutes, and headed to scrub up. She hurried down the hall, remembering the way Sydney had smiled up at her, so trusting and loving. That one little smile made all the long hours and millions of cups of coffee worth it. Affirmation that her decision to stay had been the right one came when she entered the Surgical Scrub Room and was confronted by Dr. Monoghan and the other three huge, male surgeons from his team. She knew she would never be considered a ‘little girl’. She was a tall, curvy girl and damn proud of it, but she felt almost dainty standing next to the behemoths presently scrubbing in.

  Looking through the viewing window, she saw the doors across the large expanse of the operating room open. In came one of her favorite orderlies, Adam, wheeling her young patient into the huge, instrument-filled room. Adam was the best with their pediatric patients, and rightfully so, since he and his wife were working on their own NBA team with 3 little boys under the age of six, their first baby girl on the way, and already talking about more. She thought they were crazy, but they were good parents and that was what was important. Hurriedly, she put on her gown and gloves then made her way to the operating room to reassure Sydney one last time before they started the countdown.

  Sydney smiled up at her, “Hi, Dr. Sam” she said, half chuckling, half slurring her words. The child was responding well to the anesthesia. Some kids fought it and made the process horrible for all involved, but Little Blondie seemed to be able to adapt to almost anything life threw at her. Smiling down at the sweet child, Sam signaled the anesthesiologist that he could begin. Time seemed to fly, and thankfully, everything went smoothly. In less than two hours the young patient was being wheeled to the recovery room.

  She stayed with Sydney until the child was awake in her room and having the first of what the doctor was sure would be many, red Jell-O cups. All the nurses had loved the child on sight and laughed as she made sure to tell everyone that she only ate red Jell-O cups, none of the other “yucky” colors. As Sam was leaving, Sydney called out, “Dr. Sam, I didn’t get a hug.”

  Choking past the lump in her throat, she turned. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”

  Walking the few steps back to the bed, s
he was immediately engulfed in the best hug she’d had in a long time. When she pulled back, Sydney was smiling ear to ear. The resilience of children had always seemed so amazing to the doctor. Only a few hours ago this sweet little child had been in surgery, and now she was eating red Jell-O and hugging like a bear cub.

  “Now, you be good, and I’ll be back to check on you in the next day or two.” She tweaked the little beauty’s button nose.

  “Yes, ma’am, Dr. Sam.”

  Sam was about halfway across the parking lot before she realized her surgical cap was still on her head. As she pulled it off and shoved it in the huge brown messenger bag she had used since her freshman year in college, her long, thick, braid fell from under the cap and took its place in the center of her back. Laughing to herself, she realized her curly brown mane had been in a braid damn near every day from the first day of her internship almost seven years ago, and even weirder, was the fact that it was a comfort to feel it against her back. At least that intricate design allowed her to keep the one thing she had in common with her mother and follow the rules of the hospital.

  Leaving the hospital and the stress of a very long day farther behind with every step, she pulled the end of her braid to the front, removed the ponytail holder, and began unbraiding and finger combing out the tangles as she went. As each of the strands separated, more of the tension from the last thirty hours also untangled and floated away. Somehow, letting her hair blow in the breeze was just what the doctor had ordered. She knew by the time she reached her car that it would be curling in every direction and that she would resemble some wild child, fresh out of the woods. Breathing deeply, she inhaled and blew out all the antiseptic smells of the hospital. She finally had two days off together, and doing whatever the hell she wanted for the next forty-eight, no, forty-two hours was on the top of her list. There was no regret at all about losing those six hours; Sydney had been so worth it. It was her job to help a child and she would do it again in a heartbeat. Hell, she might even sneak back tomorrow just to check on the child. After all, she had told the little darling she would see her in the next day or two. Sydney reminded her of all the kids she had met when fate saw fit for her to be in foster care. She had been one of the lucky ones. It had taken some time, but she had been placed with a great foster mom, and every day her tragedies from the past were a little easier to deal with. Too tired for a trip down memory lane, she focused on just getting to her car.