A whimsical tune echoed through the hall, a fanciful beat of violin and piccolo.
“I’m not taking that one,” Taylor said.
“Somebody has to,” Slade said. “And it’s my game.”
“What are you, five?” Taylor snorted.
I came out to watch the conflict.
Taylor stood between the television and the goliath on the sofa.
“Better move,” Slade said. “I won’t miss the CG opening, Romeo. Even if I have to sit on you the whole damned time.”
“Promise I don’t have to use the wired controller and I’ll happily sit beside you—”
“Nope.”
“There are televisions in the bedrooms,” I suggested.
“Not big ones,” Slade said.
“And no Gamebox,” Taylor added.
I spotted the cube of plastic on the floor. Wires attached it to the television, and another wire snaked out to a boomerang-shaped remote.
“There are two wireless controllers,” Taylor said.
“Fine,” Slade agreed. Then he turned to me. “But then you have to take the one with the wire.”
“Oh, I don’t intend to partake—”
“You’ll be the elf.” Slade laughed.
Taylor gave me an appraising look. “You do remind me a little of Legolas…”
“Shut up,” I said.
The interaction took me back to my childhood, to my brothers and I wrestling for the remote or the last chips at the bottom of the bag. Yes, it was safe to say I liked these two already.
“And I’ll be player one.” Taylor’s eyes remained on Slade as he reached down for the controller.
As soon as Taylor stood, Slade moved. His thick arm wrapped around Taylor’s head. Taylor kicked the big guy’s ankle, and both fell to the ground.
The front door opened suddenly, and the scent of tiger and discomfort prickled. I looked up and saw Ariana’s small, blond assistant standing in the doorway.
“Sorry,” she said. Her cheeks were pink as she stared at the two wrestling on the floor. “I assumed being a common room…”
Slade and Taylor separated and rose to their feet.
She cleared her throat and stood up straighter. “The three of you have been assigned first shift tomorrow at the Brightwater. Your car will be waiting just outside the outer wall for you at quarter to six.”
With that, Maisie left.
The air was filled with salt and sea. Wings fluttered in the wind as the small gull fought the cold morning gale. I envied his freedom.
It was my first time on a ferry, and I appreciated the beauty of the sunrise over open water as much as the next man—well, maybe not so much as Taylor.
“Cool cerulean makes way for a vibrant medallion, the reflection of the golden orb that gives life. A buttercup blossom that turns navy to a gentle cornflower.” Taylor’s eyes lit as he leaned his arms on the railing. “This is what sonnets are made for.”
“Sonnets?” Slade turned to him.
“Yeah, you know, poetry. Never mind.”
Though I appreciated the view, the crawl across the water left much to be desired. Had I shifted on shore, I could have flown there and back five times over before the boat had even left the mainland.
Eventually we returned to the car and made our way across the small island. There was little to see beyond manicured gardens, tall fences, and trees. However, there didn’t appear to be any commercial buildings. No gas stations, no stores. Traveling an hour away and an hour back by ferry for a gallon of milk was less than desirable in my opinion, even for the glitz of an island estate.
Everyone was quiet after we reached the island. The playful ease that had quickly developed between us was on pause. Ariana West would be waiting for us. The competition was on.
As soon as the car stopped, Slade threw the door open without waiting for the driver. Taylor followed him out. I did the same.
The Brightwater was much like the home I grew up in—overly large, surrounded by gardens the owner paid others to keep, and adorned with a large fountain.
I turned to Taylor, whose attention was focused off into the distance, to the side of the building. I followed his gaze to see what had captured him so completely. I should have guessed—Ariana.
She was as stunning in her high-waisted slacks and white blouse as she was in a dress. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, like it was in all of the photographs I’d seen of her. The man with whom she spoke was a couple inches or so taller than her, making him about six feet. He was dressed as a spectacular peacock. Given that he had no feathers, the shimmering turquoise pants and lavender shirt were abrasive to the eyes, yet it was difficult to look away.
His arms flailed in a grand gesture. Ariana stood tall, but not stiff. Her arms hung by her sides, and she met his gaze without flinching nor showing any sign of discomfort. I respected the control she maintained under pressure.
“Have you noticed these places always have fountains?” I asked Taylor.
“He’s yelling at her,” Taylor said.
“Yes,” I said, “well, she appears to have the situation under control.”
“It’s hard not to defend her, you know?”
I did. Strangely, I did. She had a quality that stirred something inside of me, beyond her beauty, beyond her scent.
“Best to let her come to us when she’s ready,” I replied.
The peacock turned on his heel and retreated inside.
I followed Ariana’s gaze across the yard. Peering up the trunk of a sixty-foot tall red maple was Slade. He pointed upward to the leaves that had begun to change from green to a deep crimson. I expected he had found a cat or a bird to be excited about.
“We gotta watch out for these,” he yelled across the yard. “Those limbs can bear weight. It’s where I’d go at night if I was trying not to be seen.”
I hadn’t expected insight. Perhaps I had underestimated Slade Rouland.
I thought back to the qualifications Ariana had listed for the partnership position: heart, brawn, and brains.
Without question, Taylor had the most heart. One look at Slade was enough to know that he displayed the greatest physical prowess. Just as evident was my superior intelligence. While I was confident in my own physical strength and ability, I hadn’t considered that my competition might also embody all three traits.
But instead of feeling threatened, I was intrigued. A fair competition made the entire situation more interesting.
Four days had passed without contact from Ariana West, though there was little doubt that she was judging our performance. Security cameras littered the Brightwater, and the obvious assumption was that she’d been watching every one. Even from where I stood inside one of the Brightwater’s vaults, I could see one of those cameras. I looked up at it and winked, hoping Ariana was watching.
During the past four days, I’d spent all hours of the day and night with the other competitors. It didn’t take long to fall into a rhythm of brotherhood and banter. As my actual brothers and I had grown, and our personal identities had more aggressively entwined themselves with that of our inner dragons, we’d found our relationships with each other strained. In fact, I’d found it difficult to nurture any form of friendship with another dragon male since puberty. Even at Curtis Corporation, I’d been in a better place to reach junior partnership due to the fact that I was the only dragon. I’d expected to feel animosity, a fierce drive of destructive competition. That wasn’t the case with Taylor and Slade.
Instead, I liked them. I ignored calls from Curtis in favor of watching Slade and Taylor’s wrestling matches over which of them would hold which Gamebox controller. I’d reported nothing on Ariana West or her company. Stranger still, I found myself wishing all three of us could be awarded the position instead of just me.
As my affection for Taylor and Slade had grown, so had my distaste for Jacques Marquette Pelletier.
“This is the latest piece to arrive.” Pelletier held up a splint
ered staff of wood, the end of which was stained a deep merlot hue.
I shuddered. Pelletier kept talking, but I found myself entirely consumed by the scent of the wood in his hands—dragon blood. There was something about the vault, or its contents, that made me uncomfortable. It was possible that it had everything to do with the wolf shifter who stood beside me.
“Are you even listening, Mr. Phillips?” The edge of his piercing voice was sharp with annoyance.
“To every word,” I said.
“Because if you aren’t interested in the value of my collection, how am I to trust you to—”
“I assure you, Mr. Pelletier, that I appreciate the financial worth of not only the collection within the vault, but that of your private collection.” I stepped back into the hall and pointed to the hideous painting of wolves flying through outer space. “For example, that’s an original Carigillo, whose collection is otherwise owned in its entirety by the Wentuffel Museum.”
I left out the part where Taylor had pointed out the piece to me two days prior. I felt a little bad for taking Taylor’s knowledge as my own, but I needed to appease the client and get the hell out of that vault.
“Yes,” Pelletier said. “Those rotten bastards have been trying to scam me into selling for years.”
“The only piece in circulation makes it priceless,” I said, knowing flattery would go over exceptionally well with the pompous man.
“You’re right,” he said. “I hadn’t thought of the opportunity I was giving would-be thieves with my private collection. I’ve been so focused on the artifacts from the Lotus War. I have to make some calls. Excuse me, please.” He placed his hand on my chest, and I considered breaking it. But I wanted this job too much.
As Pelletier walked away, I imagined the look on poor Maisie’s face when the buffoon called again requesting triple the security. At least Ariana paid well.
I leaned on the railing and looked over the room that would house the event Whitesong Security had been hired to protect. That’s when I felt it.
My heart rate increased and my palms dampened. Crisp green apples and feminine desire filled my nostrils, though I was alone. She was here.
Taylor opened the front door, and Ariana stepped into the great room. Her long, lean legs were exposed from the knee down, a few inches higher at the slit in her pencil skirt. Her white blouse was loose, and the open buttons around her neck accentuated her collarbones and the top of her ample cleavage. My cock stirred at the sight. Her dark eyes met mine, and my breath caught. I’d hardly spent more than a few moments in her presence, yet each of those brief encounters left me more and more enraptured.
She looked away when Taylor murmured something into her ear, parted her lips, and laughed. It seemed the two of them had grown quite comfortable with each other over the past few days.
I couldn’t break my gaze away from his hand skimming her shoulder, then moving down to her hip. He leaned in closer to whisper something, and I watched her eyelids flutter shut, just for the briefest moment.
She seemed to regain her composure and take a side-step away from Taylor. But then she stood up on her tiptoes—even with her heels on—to say something I couldn’t hear. Apparently I didn’t need to hear it, because my cock turned into a pillar of granite in my pants.
His responding gaze to her words was heat-filled. I would have thought their exchange all lust, but then he touched a strand of her dark hair which had come loose from her bun. With utmost tenderness, he slowly tucked it back behind her ear.
It was obvious he cared deeply for her.
I knew I should be jealous that he’d spent the most time with her, both for the professional advantage and for the opportunity to get close to the woman. I did yearn for the same chance, yet I was happy for Taylor. Peculiar.
“Hey.” I recognized the deep voice as Slade’s. The giant moved surprisingly silently.
“Hello,” I replied.
“Have you ever seen so much gold in one place?” he asked. Without waiting for answer, he continued. “Not just actual gold, but it’s like the sun exploded all over this mansion.”
“It is,” I agreed.
“A waste if you ask me,” he said. “I’ve never been much for excess.”
“It’s the culture,” I said.
“You seem comfortable with all of it,” Slade said.
“I am,” I said. “It’s the world into which I was born.”
“So, you don’t even need the job,” he said. “Fancy rich boy. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“So, you here to make your own way or prove something?” he asked.
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to explain that I’d been sent to infiltrate the ranks of Whitesong Security and that after spending time with him and Taylor, part of me hoped I wouldn’t find anything of value to report.
“In a way,” I said.
“I’m here for the money,” Slade said. “And the girl.” His smile was genuine, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
A crashing sound carried in from outside, followed by a shrill screech that could only have come from a maimed feline.
“Cat burglar!” The voice belonged to Pelletier.
Before I was two steps down, Slade had jumped over the railing and raced out the door. I ran after.
Outside, I found Jacques Marquette Pelletier with his hand over his forehead and a tea setting on the ground by his feet, shattered.
A large hedge rustled.
“He’s in there,” Pelletier pointed.
I pulled back a thick-leafed branch and found Slade. His arms were crossed, and something small was hidden behind massive muscles.
“Caught the culprit,” Slade said.
A little puffball of orange fur wiggled its way up Slade’s white t-shirt.
Slade looked down at the puffball with affection. “I’m gonna call her Princess Needleclaw.”
Two additional days of uneventful security shifts passed at the Brightwater before I saw Ariana again. She walked the grounds with Pelletier, and my senses were off-kilter with her proximity.
Slade and Taylor walked over to the fountain, where Needleclaw hopped first onto the stone, tottered by the edge, then jumped directly into Slade’s arms. As if anticipating the little fluffball, Slade reached out without breaking eye contact with Taylor.
“Its mother has to be around here somewhere,” Taylor said.
“Mr. Pellets says Princess Needleclaw isn’t his,” Slade said. “So she’s mine to care for if she wants to be.”
Taylor sneezed.
“I still think it’s worth looking for the mother,” Taylor said. “If you don’t find the mother, and you want to take her home, promise you’ll bathe her first. She’s covered in dust.”
“I think she likes it that way, don’t you, Princess Needleclaw?” He rubbed a finger under the animal’s chin and she purred her approval.
“Even so,” I said, “I agree with Taylor.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Slade said. “She’ll get a bath.”
The scent of char, aether, and tart fruit filled my lungs, intoxicating me. I knew she was close.
“Cute cat,” Ariana said. Her raspy voice stirred my dragon. Suddenly I felt the desire to stretch my wings, to rake my fingers over her bare skin, to taste the woman that I needed to be mine.
“I didn’t expect you to be one to melt over soft and cuddly,” I said.
When our gazes met, I could smell her desire. Taylor and Slade’s conversation cut short—they sensed it too.
“I don’t,” she said. “Walk with me?”
She didn’t have to ask twice.
I kept my eyes forward as we walked down a stone path that led away from the house and into the woods, but my attention was wholly on the woman by my side. Her strides were long and sure as the cool breeze blew the thin fabric of her navy skirt.
“How many years have you worked for the Curtis Corporation?” Ariana said. “It appears that you’ve been on the partner trac
k for some time.”
I stopped walking at the edge of the island, where the water splashed up on the rocky shore.
“What reason could you have, Mr. Phillips, for choosing a position with Whitesong, with such a career at Curtis?”
“Please, call me Quentin,” I said.
“Quentin,” she repeated. The way my name rolled off of her tongue made me even harder. I could imagine her screaming it with her back pressed against the tree behind her.
“Since I began my career in shifter security, I’ve dreamed of working for the illustrious Whitesong Security,” I said. It was true, I had. “Your work on the Elias trafficking case was what inspired me to apply to my first job as an intern in the field.”
Her silk button-up blouse pressed against her with every gust of wind, highlighting the full shape of her ample breasts.
“You are my inspiration,” I admitted.
She smiled just a little, the corner of her full, plum-colored lips turned up, and damn it was sexy. She took a step closer, and I wanted more than anything to touch her.
“And what makes you more qualified than Mr. Stonehall and Mr. Rouland?” she asked.
“This is the part where I’m supposed to skewer the competition, call them out on their faults while I make myself appear more qualified than I am,” I said. “But I’m not going to do that.”
Her brown eyes sparkled with interest.
“I have nothing but admiration and respect for Taylor and Slade. They have everything you asked for—heart, brawn, and brains—and they’re dedicated, hard workers. They’d make excellent partners. As for me,” I said. “I will give you everything that I am. I can show you the seventeen places around the property where our defenses are vulnerable. I can tell you that one of our new hires is already lusting after one of the maids here and, as you know, such an entanglement weakens our position. I can tell you about the background checks I’ve done on the caterer and that her brother has nearly bankrupted the company. No, she’s not necessarily going to steal from our client, but we should be aware of these things, plan for them. And I will spend every waking hour putting you first. Putting Whitesong first.”
Dragon Shattered_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy Romance Page 6