“I thought you were leaving for your honeymoon.”
“My mate and I will come back here for a week before continuing on our honeymoon. My mate and I want to be there for the soft open because we met there.”
“My mate and I. My mate and I. Gods of Magic, you’ve become insufferable.”
“Don’t knock mating until you’ve tried it, Arawn. It’s fantastic. I mean, just for the sex alone—”
“Stop right there. I do not need to hear any more.”
“You know how good regular sex is, but mated sex—”
“Please, for the love of all the dragon gods, stop.”
“Only if you take over in Vegas.”
“Mathonwy—”
“And there is the other small matter of the algae-eating, serpent-like fish in the fountain out front. My dragonmate Bethany has recommended a witch friend for the casino to hire to take care of them.”
“‘Serpent-like fish?’ You mean eels?”
“I’m assured that this witch is very good with animals in general and sea serpents in particular. She’s an expert in potions and magical nutrition, having recently attended an advanced potions course at the Sorcière Université in Paris.”
“That’s an excellent witch college.”
“However, sometimes the serpents—practically eels, like you said—need an alpha dragon to show them who’s boss. I’m sure you can handle that.”
“Wait, how big—”
“You’d better leave soon to get there in time for the eleven o’clock meeting, or else.”
And that was how Arawn Tiamat ended up in Las Vegas at the Dragon’s Den Casino.
After flying to Las Vegas, stretching his wings against the pale desert sky, Arawn touched down on the roof of the Dragon’s Den Casino—it was the only casino on the Strip with a dragon landing pad built into the rooftop—where he dressed, commandeered a penthouse suite for his use for the month, and found the board room where the meeting was scheduled to take place.
“Agenda?” he ordered as he marched into the room, tossing a notepad at the head of the table and sitting down with a pen clutched in his fist.
The dozen people sitting at the conference table squirmed in their chairs.
Arawn noted the coffee cups, water glasses, and blank papers scattered on the table, but no printed agendas were in evidence.
He stood. “I have been informed that the security measures in this casino are in disarray. I will email the heads of each department for a personal meeting within the next three days. At those meetings, you will show me the security measures, metrics, and current efficacy of those measures for each department. From what Mr. Draco told me, the embezzlement scheme that was stealing millions from this casino has far-reaching tentacles in every department.”
A thin man with a tubular-shaped head at the end of the table shrank in his seat.
Arawn would have to watch that guy.
“Mr. Draco also said that this casino has a problem with efficiency. We shall begin to address that immediately. From now on, agendas will be distributed for all meetings at least twenty-four hours in advance. Any meeting that does not have an agenda at least twenty-four hours in advance will be canceled. In accordance with that policy, this meeting is adjourned.” He strode out of the room.
He left at least a dozen silent, stunned people sitting in their chairs, staring at each other in horror.
Yes, the new boss was a hardass.
As he walked down the hallway, warmth trickled across his cheek.
He wiped away the dragonfire before anyone saw.
Because Arawn Tiamat never, ever got angry.
Since he had an hour or two at his disposal before lunch, Arawn gave himself a tour of the casino and grounds.
In the security command center, half of the computer equipment was still in the original shipping containers. The username and sixteen-digit password for the inoperative computer system had been scribbled on a piece of paper that was lying in the center of the dusty table. The CCTV video camera system was entirely non-functional. As he walked around the casino floor and hallways, every single video camera had an unattached cable dangling from it.
Arawn had a tremendous amount of work to do at the Dragon’s Den Casino before the soft open in one month. He paced quietly through the casino.
But he wasn’t angry.
The soft open would be an understated run-through of the casino’s operations. The few hundred invited guests would stay at the Dragon’s Den Hotel and Casino, eat at the fully functional restaurants, and gamble in the casino.
There would not be any shows or large-scale entertainment at the soft open. That would be saved for the gala opening in two months’ time.
However, everything else had to be ready to go and at one hundred percent.
He cursed Mathonwy Draco inwardly, but he also admitted that if he’d had a conundrum like this, he would have sent either Mathonwy or Cai to handle the situation. He knew he could depend on those guys, and Mathonwy must have thought the same about him.
That thought led to a warm feeling, in a blistering-dragonfire way.
Arawn walked out the revolving door to the early summer day outside. The cement courtyard reflected the heat nicely.
Outside, some of the security measures had been built into the design of the casino’s environs, so those were in place. Enormous cast-concrete planters filled with stone, dirt, and desert cacti were strategically placed between the casino and the heavy traffic roaring by on the Strip, perhaps fifty yards apart. The wide, open spaces of cement courtyard would have excellent lines of view for the CCTV cameras, assuming they were functional in the near future.
Arawn walked across the large courtyard and leaned on the wide retaining wall of the central fountain. The sun-warmed stone was rough under his palms and fingers.
A mild breeze rippled the surface of the water, and the sun sparkled on the wavelets with tiny starbursts of white light.
From under the darkness of the water, the voice of dragonthought shivered through Arawn’s hand and into his bones.
Hungry.
Arawn hopped back, staring at his hands and the silent water beyond.
Those weren’t eel-size, algae-eating fish.
That was the mind-voice of a legendary-class sea serpent.
Arawn approached the fountain again and laid his hands on the stone wall. He listened.
The rumbling music of dragonthought tumbled through the dragon in his soul.
He tried to separate the voices that were all hungry, and wanting, and despairing.
At least four distinct voices, possibly more, reverberated under the water.
Insanity.
Arawn turned and sprinted into the casino, intent on interrogating the Human Resources manager as to why Mathonwy’s sea serpent expert wasn’t already hired and on the premises to look after the enormous, dangerous, and hungry sea monsters in the fountain out front.
The fountain needed many more security measures, both magic and electronic, or else those sea serpents were going to chew up and swallow casino guests and staff alike.
Old Flames
WILLOW Sage sat in the HR office and was doing her best not to stare at Smedley O’Tentacle, the HR Director of Dragon’s Den Casino, but he was making it very difficult.
Every time O’Tentacle picked up a pen, his fingers became sinuous and grew suckers on the pads.
She’d never met a squid shifter before, and when his hand squished moistly over the computer mouse, she resolved not to look away from his eyes.
Which were almost colorless, but for the dark, horizontal bar of a pupil across the center.
O’Tentacle frowned at her, his lips pursing out and looking decidedly beaky. “Is something the matter?”
“Oh, no! Not at all,” Willow stammered, trying not to sound stupid. “Everything’s fine.”
Smedley squinted at her but went back to typing her information into the computer. “Hiring someone without a thorough
vetting process is very irregular. Usually, we post a job opening, collect applications, and then rank resumes using a rubric. I’ve never even heard of the,” he squinted at the paper, too, “Sorcière Université Potions Program.”
It was actually the Sorcière Université Remedial Potions Program, but Willow wasn’t going to admit that. “The program is very selective.”
Selective, in that they only admitted the most hopeless potion witches who couldn’t cook to save their lives.
Which she still was.
Willow was the culinary school dropout who was still desperately trying to make buttercream roses even though her cakes always fell and her racks of lamb were always burned to charcoal.
But she was going to keep trying.
And at least she was good with animals.
She was probably good enough with magical animals to be a glorified, professional fish feeder.
She could shake some flakes in the tank and watch them swim around, just like Bethany had said. Willow had always liked herps. Magical Herpetology had been her favorite Magical Sunday School class, handling and caring for the cool, calm snakes and lizards that cuddled up to her warmth.
Plus, this short-term cash infusion would keep Willow afloat for another month or two, but it was supposed to be a temporary job. With this, at least she wasn’t going to have to move back in with her parents in Desert Star.
Hopefully, she could whip up some simple vitamin potions for the sea serpents to make their scales glossy and their tentacles, tentacly.
Like Smedley’s undulating fingers.
Willow snapped her attention back up to his face.
Smedley licked his lips. His tongue had suckers on it, too. “This is most irregular.”
“I’m very sorry about that, but Bethany did say that the sea serpents were in need of urgent care. The CFO, Mr. Draco, approved hiring me. At the very least, I can fill in and help the serpents until you can get a proper marine magico-biologist. You don’t want a half-dozen deceased sea serpents bloating and stinking up the casino fountain like six tons of dead fish rotting in the sun.”
Smedley’s upper lip curled in what must have been a squidly snarl. “Fine. But I’m marking this as a temporary position. The casino’s Head of Security, Mr. Arawn Tiamat, is on his way down. I must warn you, he’s one of the most by-the-book dragon shifters I’ve ever met, and dragon shifters are notoriously inflexible. Mr. Tiamat will never approve your hiring, even if Mr. Draco did stamp the hiring form.”
“We’ll leave it up to Mr. Tiamat, then,” she said.
The office door opened, and a very tall, very blond man walked in. He didn’t notice Willow sitting in the applicant’s chair as he rounded on Smedley, saying in a low, bass voice, “Those sea serpents look ghastly. When will the potions witch get here?”
The new man was excessively broad-shouldered under that expensive suit he wore. As she could see from his side, he was movie-star handsome with cut cheekbones and a square jaw.
She knew he would have amazing blue eyes when he turned to look at her.
He also had a dragon tattoo on his ribs that Willow had licked many times.
Her breath rushed into her.
She had dated Aaron Timmit for just over a year and lived with him the last six months. He had come back to their apartment one day and quietly told her that he was moving to Los Angeles and wouldn’t be able to be with her anymore.
Tears pricked her eyes.
She blinked hard before Aaron saw them.
Smedley gestured toward Willow. “She’s right behind you, Mr. Tiamat. And I must protest the highly irregular hiring practices that have been instituted in the last month.”
She didn’t know why Smedley was mispronouncing Aaron Timmit’s name so badly.
Aaron turned, his slim hips twisting just a fraction before his shoulders and then his head.
When he was facing her, his expression didn’t change, though he blinked his bright blue eyes. “Willow?”
Her heart lurched behind her sternum and then sprinted. “Um, Aaron? What are you doing here?”
He said, “I’m the Head of Security for the Dragon’s Den Casino. Man-eating sea monsters fall under my jurisdiction, even the sick ones.”
“But Mr. O’Tentacle said that a dragon shifter was in charge of that.”
Aaron’s expression fell, and he placed his hands in his pants pockets. “About that—”
Behind Aaron, Smedley said, “I must protest. The last time we hired someone without due process, we ended up with sea serpents in the casino fountain.”
Aaron turned his head toward Smedley, but his bright blue eyes didn’t leave Willow’s. “I thought we were hiring a witch.”
Smedley said, “Ms. Willow Sage says she’s a witch. Her resumé says she’s a witch.” He sniffed in her general direction. “She smells like a witch.”
Willow wasn’t sure what a witch was supposed to smell like—maybe like burning sage.
She straightened her spine. She wouldn’t cry. Surely, in the six months since they’d broken up, she had gained enough perspective and composure that she could hold herself together for a few minutes in the HR office. “Yes, Aaron. I’m a witch.”
One of his light eyebrows lowered, but his perfect face didn’t otherwise move. “You never told me you’re a supernatural.”
“I’m a witch. I’ve always been a witch. And evidently, you’re a dragon, and your name is Arawn Tiamat, not Aaron Timmit. So, I guess there’s a lot we both forgot to mention about ourselves.”
Never Goes Well
ON her way out of the HR office, Willow was ready to walk away from Aaron Timmit and keep walking out of the front doors of the casino and all the way back to her dingy little apartment over on the wrong side of Las Vegas. She strode ahead of Aaron—no, not Aaron the guy, but Arawn, the dragon shifter, and the shock of that still vibrated in her bones—and managed to get several paces in front of him before she felt a tap on her arm.
“Willow?” his deep, quiet voice asked.
“I really can’t, Aaron.” Arawn. “I really, really can’t.”
“I should like to apologize.”
That was new.
When Aaron—Arawn—had walked out of their apartment after the break-up, he hadn’t apologized. He’d merely stated the situation that he would be moving back to Los Angeles, immediately and alone, in a totally not-explaining-anything way and then left for the rest of the week. Willow had cleared out her clothes in humiliation and crashed with Bethany for a few days until she’d found her own place, a small and cheap place. Soon after, she’d discovered that remedial potions course in France and left the whole continent, too.
“I mean it,” he said. “I want to apologize.”
Willow sighed. “Okay. Shoot.”
“I am sorry about how I left and didn’t communicate.”
“Okay. Now I’m good.” If he could lie, so could she.
“Let me take you to lunch.”
Her stomach rolled around under her waistband, growling. “I don’t want lunch.”
“Please. It’s just lunch. You can get up and walk out at any time if I’m a jackass.”
She did not doubt any of what he said. Aaron—Arawn—had always been scrupulously polite when they’d been dating and living together.
Still, she didn’t want him to buy her lunch. She didn’t want to owe him anything. Her heart would break. Her body would collapse. Nothing good could come of this.
“Not right now, Aaron. I really can’t.” She really couldn’t.
“All right. No lunch,” he said. “I’m still kind of shocked you’re a supernatural. I didn’t know you were a witch.”
“You forgot to mention the fact that you’re a giant, scaly lizard, too.”
One of Aaron’s—Arawn’s—eyebrows lowered, not in anger, because Aaron was never angry. The look was more like consternation. “Dragons don’t have scales. It’s more like beads—”
“Not the point.”
“Yes, I didn’t mention the fact that I’m a dragon shifter, that a dragon soul resides in my body and can be released. Indeed, it must be released on a regular basis.”
Willow wanted to strangle him or slap him upside the back of his head. “The whole reason I didn’t tell you that I was a witch was because I thought you were a natural!”
“And I thought you were one, too.”
“You should have just told me that you’re a dragon shifter.”
He chuffed one laugh. “You know how that would have gone if you were a natural: badly. Those conversations with naturals always go exceedingly badly.”
Willow wanted to kill him in that way that one always wants to obliterate one’s ex who walked out with no warning and only the most horse-hockey of explanations, but Aaron—Arawn!—was a lot bigger than she was. It was unlikely that she could kill him before he held her off with one palm on her forehead while she swung her fists uselessly, trying to sock him.
Plus, Willow needed this job. She needed any job. She needed to start at this job that very day and have proof of employment when she went home that day or else the manager of her apartment complex was going to evict her at the end of the month. The manager wasn’t being a jerk. Rules and processes governed his actions. He had no choice in the matter.
Once the eviction process had started, there was no way to stop it. Her deadline was at five o’clock that evening, and she needed a job offer in writing so they could set up a payment plan for the rent that was in arrears.
So, Willow had to be nicer to her ex.
“Look, Aaron—Arawn—we both didn’t tell each other the same thing for exactly the same reason, because naturals can be weird when they learn that magic is real and that witches, dragons, angels, and shifters are running around their world. And fae. And demons. And the occasional day-going vampire. And that a lot of the stuff in the fantasy books about us is just plain wrong.”
Arawn nodded. “Revealing oneself without cause is frowned upon in dragon culture, so I did not.”
“Oh, spilling the beans about being a witch is frowned upon in witch society, too. You’d better have a darn good reason, like you’re engaged to the guy already. I mean, I would have told you about the witchy thing if things had gotten serious.”
Dragons and Mayhem Page 4