Dragon Shattered_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy Romance

by Keira Blackwood

“Work your magic,” I said.

  “You, too,” she replied. “Door’ll be locked, and I won’t let anyone in. Good luck!” The door clicked shut behind her, and I was at a loss for words. I felt the need to explain, but Taylor didn’t seem put off.

  He sat across the desk from me, so I sat down too.

  “So this is the woman who brought the thief in to the auction,” Taylor said, looking at the tablet on the desk between us. “What do you think the chances are that she knows his name?”

  I looked at the MessageFace profile. There were hundreds of pictures of the tall brunette. Each that I flipped through had Maeve on a different beach or nightclub in skimpy clothing, and a different man with his arms wrapped around her.

  “Not as high as I’d like,” I said. “I wonder if she’s in search of her mate, or just fun.”

  “If I had to guess,” Taylor said, “I’d say fun. If it was for more, we’d probably see at least one man repeated.” He looked away and down at his hands. “I’ve dated women like that.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked.

  “More than my share,” he said. His smile was sad as he met my gaze.

  “You date a lot?” I asked.

  “Not for a while,” he said. “I have a blindness for the truth sometimes. With my last girlfriend, I came home on my lunch break to my apartment.”

  “Did you live together?” I asked.

  “No, she was just there letting the plumber in as a favor to me,” he said. “She didn’t know I would be coming by. I found them together in my bed.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said.

  “I know,” he said. “It’s the plot of some low-budget porno. Fixing her pipes.”

  I laughed.

  “And it wasn’t the only time a woman did that to me,” he said.

  “You get a lot of broken pipes?” I asked.

  “It’s not always a plumber,” he said. “Mailman, gynecologist, pizza delivery—”

  “Wait,” I said. “One of your girlfriends brought her gynecologist back to your apartment?”

  “It wasn’t always at my apartment,” he said.

  “I doubt Hafiz has any pretty words for that,” I said.

  “No, no he does not.”

  I took his hand. “It’s because you’re a nice guy.”

  “Great,” he said, sounding miserable.

  “It’s a good thing,” I said. “And not every woman would do something like that.”

  I wouldn’t. I would be honest about it. I thought of Marc. And now I wanted Taylor, Quentin, and Slade. Was I really any better than those women?

  “You’re not like that,” Taylor said, as if he could read my thoughts. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and you care about all of our feelings. It’s not the same.”

  I squeezed his hand. It was exactly what I needed to hear. He was good at that.

  “Now let’s make that call,” Taylor said.

  “Call?”

  “To Florida.”

  “Right.” I’d forgotten what it was we were meant to be doing. Instead, I was thinking about what he’d said. He was a hopeless romantic, and I didn’t want to be another woman who broke his heart. I cared for him, and I wanted him. I remembered him earlier, shirtless. I wanted to shake myself; I was like some teenager hopped up on hormones.

  “May I?” Taylor asked, releasing my hand.

  I nodded. He took his phone from his pocket, scrolled through his contacts, and dialed. It only rang once before someone answered.

  “India Pale Scales.” The voice on the other end of the line was deep, with a heavy southern accent. Even if he hadn’t put his phone on speaker, I could have easily heard every word.

  “Still bartending after all this time, Stewart?” Taylor asked. “I thought maybe you’d have moved to Miami, given in to Carlotta.”

  “Taylor Stonehall, is it really you? Been a long time.”

  “It’s me,” Taylor replied. “How’ve you been?”

  “Can’t complain,” said Stewart. “And it was me locked Carlotta down, not the other way. Had us a whole pile a cubs. She’s waitin’ tables and givin’ me the eye as we speak. And gorgeous as ever.”

  “Did that last bit ease the look?” Taylor asked.

  I tried not to laugh. Taylor winked at me.

  “Ehh,” Stewart said. “So, what can I do for ya, bud?”

  “Kind of a strange question,” Taylor said, “but do you know gator grass?”

  “Sure, sure,” Stewart said. “Grows all along the Bellview swamp. Nowhere else. That shit stinks. Hell to get it outta your hair and clothes.”

  I nodded to myself. It was like Quentin had said, gator grass was distinctive enough to narrow the thief’s whereabouts to a single swamp. But some of those marshlands were tens of miles wide, so this could still be a long shot.

  “I’m looking for a guy,” Taylor said. “He’s carrying the smell, so he’s been by your way recently. Wolf shifter, tall and thin. Black hair, thin mustache.”

  “Tell me he didn’t steal anything important,” Stewart said.

  “That’s exactly what he did,” Taylor said. “So you know the guy?”

  “Yeah. Slimy little bastard’s been hangin’ around for about a year on and off. He’s been seein’ Donny’s girl. You remember Donny?”

  “Yeah,” Taylor said. “But this guy, what’s his name?”

  “They call him Chip on account of all the fancy gadgets he carries. You know, like a computer chip or some shit. He wanted to go by Cyborg, but that didn’t catch on.”

  “Chip, huh?” Taylor asked. He flashed a grin at me, his brilliant green eyes sparkling like jewels.

  I bit back a chuckle and tapped Taylor’s fingers. “Does he know where to find him?”

  “Any idea where I can find Chip now?” Taylor captured my hand in his.

  “Darcy, Donny’s daughter, says he’s supposed to be back after some big score in New York. Fancy party on Thursday. Donny called up already to warn the guy, some kind of name that sounded like pretentious beer. Longneck or something.”

  “Longbottom,” I said.

  “Thanks, Stewart,” Taylor said. “Give my regards to Carlotta and the kids.”

  “Will do,” Stewart replied. “And Taylor, you ever get down this way, you better come visit.”

  “I wouldn’t miss the chance,” Taylor said. “Take care.”

  When he hung up the phone, I squeezed his hand in excitement. We did it. He did it. We had two leads that converged on the same night, the same event. I couldn’t have done it without Taylor.

  His hand was warm beneath mine, his green eyes were intense, bringing back all of the same feelings I’d had in their suite just a few hours earlier. I pictured his bare chest, wet and shining from his shower. We were alone, just me and him, and all I could think about was stealing a kiss from those full lips.

  The phone rang.

  I stared at Taylor’s hard jaw, the playful strand of brown hair that fell just beside his eyes. And I didn’t want to answer.

  I picked it up but didn’t look down.

  “Yes?”

  “Sorry to bother you,” Maisie said. “I got admission for two for the gala. It’s the best I could do, and I had to pull some strings to get them. Which of the partners would you like to bring—”

  “Taylor,” I said. “I want my date to be Taylor.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ariana

  I took a long sip of chai and watched my office door from the comfort of my desk chair. Any minute Quentin would knock, or maybe he’d flash Maisie a smile and slip right in without asking. It seemed a very Quentin thing to do, and to be honest, I wouldn’t have minded. Not from him.

  It had been Slade first on Monday, then Taylor yesterday, so if I was right about their scheme, today had to be Quentin.

  Scents carried to my nose—the cool dampness of soaring through clouds mingled with the hot, dry char in the way that was unique to dragons. I breathed in deep, and found hints of peppermint. An
d I knew he was by my door. Part of me wanted to jump from my seat and race to meet him, but I kept my composure and remained in my chair.

  Each day that passed was more difficult than the last in my struggle to maintain any sense of modesty. And with that desire came guilt. Guilt that it wasn’t one man that I lusted for, but three, and that this wasn’t fair to any of them.

  The knock on my door was melodic.

  “Come in,” I said.

  As he did every time I saw him, Quentin looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ. His light brown hair was pulled back and tied at the base of his neck. He was freshly shaved, highlighting the masculine shape of his jaw. And that suit, that perfectly polished, expertly tailored suit—it was fancy wrapping paper for the treat beneath.

  “Good morning, Ariana.”

  I loved the way he said that, the way my name rolled off his tongue. I wanted to hear it again.

  “Quentin,” I said. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “I hope that means it’s a pleasure to see me, as much as it is for me to see you,” he said.

  Instead of taking a seat, he came over beside me.

  I imagined unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly—unwrapping the gift that stood before me. Instead, I cleared my throat and rose to my feet.

  He was taller than me, though not so tall as Slade, and met me at eye level while I had on my heels. Too close. He was too close. I couldn’t think. Everything I’d felt yesterday with Taylor simmered just beneath the surface. I needed a change of scenery.

  “Let’s get some fresh air,” I said.

  “Are you okay?” He had to know how I felt. He could see it, smell it.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I could just use a walk. So, tell me, what’s the story with the three of you and your schedule?”

  “You think—”

  “Come on,” I said. “I’m not stupid.”

  I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.

  “I would never imply otherwise,” Quentin said. His bright blue eyes flashed with concern as he touched my wrist.

  I hadn’t meant to come off as mad. I wasn’t mad, just—worked up.

  “I don’t mind the three of you taking turns accompanying me,” I said. “We are partners after all. It makes sense that we should spend equal time together.”

  Quentin flashed a smile, a way too gorgeous smile, and he knew it.

  “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” he said.

  “Great. Let’s go out, and you can tell me everything you’ve learned about the device Chip used.”

  “Chip?” he asked.

  “Oh, I assumed Taylor already told you,” I said. “We’ve got a name for our mystery thief.”

  “He didn’t mention it,” Quentin replied. “But instead of a walk, I thought we could go for a drive.”

  “Oh?”

  “As you say, research has led me to believe the creator of the device is located in Dutton.”

  Dutton was only a twenty-five-minute drive, a small city like Emerald Pines, and home to Whitesong Security’s greatest rival, the Curtis Corporation.

  I’d had the displeasure of meeting Chad Curtis on more than one occasion. Six feet and two inches of muscle, brains, and assholish snobbery, Curtis ran his family business the same way his family had for generations—with a cut-throat lack of ethics. They took all of the jobs I wouldn’t touch, and some I wanted. Quentin was better off away from the Curtis Corporation, and we were both better off staying outside of Dutton.

  As we walked to the elevator, I considered all of the possibilities of the day. We could cross paths with the Curtis Corporation. Though it could make for awkward conversation, I’d be forced to see Chad tomorrow at the gala, anyway. The last thing I wanted to do was ask him for help in recovering the artifact from the Brightwater job.

  There was a chance that we’d catch the guy who sold the device to Chip. That was the best-case scenario. There was also a chance that Quentin and I would spend the day out together and discover nothing of value. Spending the day with him was what worried me the most—could I resist taking what I wanted from him? It had been hard enough the day before with Taylor, but Quentin—Quentin was more assertive. Had my feelings only been for Quentin, I wouldn’t have felt so conflicted. But how could I in good conscience pursue anything more with any one of them?

  I pushed the G button on the elevator and the doors began to close. In the small space, the scent of clouds and flames filled my lungs. We were alone, dangerously so. I looked at Quentin. His blue eyes were dark. My breath caught in my chest as butterflies churned in my stomach. He took a step closer, and I could smell the cool mint of his breath, feel the heat of his skin.

  “Wait.” The voice was Taylor’s.

  Quentin reached past me and tapped the button to open the door. The arm of his jacket brushed my shoulder as he moved, and I shuddered with excitement at the contact.

  “Thanks,” Taylor said as he stepped inside.

  I stood between the two men, ready to jump either—or maybe both—of them as the doors closed shut. Quentin’s hand slid down over my hip, and the sensation radiated outward, bringing every nerve alive. My lips tingled as I imagined kissing him, as I imagined kissing Taylor. A few inches lower, and Quentin’s hand could be up my skirt. A few inches closer, and Taylor could squeeze my breast.

  I looked at Taylor, concerned how he would feel watching Quentin touch me. He gave me a gorgeous, wicked smile, and it made everything so much hotter. I opened my mouth to beg for more, but no words came out.

  The door opened. I sighed, half in disappointment, half in relief, and I made sure I was the first to step the hell out of there.

  I didn’t stop until I reached the Cayenne.

  I pulled the keys from my pocket, only to have them pulled away. I turned, and Quentin stood beside me, with the keys up in the air.

  “Might I drive this time?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

  The ride went by in silence, and it gave me some time to think. Could Taylor possibly be okay watching me and Quentin together? He couldn’t be, could he?

  After a twenty-minute debate in my head, we arrived in Dutton. The outskirts of the city were covered in large houses, larger yards, and tall trees blossoming with shades of autumn. The leaves of one tree could be as yellow as the sun, while the tree right next to it was a mix of orange and red. The sight pulled at the dragon within. It had been too long since I’d flown.

  As we drove further into the city, houses grew closer together and the trees became scarcer. The streets were wider and busier. The tallest of buildings still lay ahead, but Quentin pulled off of the main street before we reached the heart of the city. We parked in a lot by a small strip of shops. There was only one other car there, a beat-up minivan with the boxy look of the early nineties.

  “This should do it,” Quentin said.

  I stepped out of the Cayenne and the cool breeze bit my bare thighs. Fortunately, my boots were tall enough to keep my legs warm. Dried leaves blew across the lot like tumbleweeds, and I wondered where exactly we were meant to find this tech dealer. I’d pictured a back-alley trade with a sketchy man in a trench coat. First impression of this place was nothing like that.

  Quentin held out his hand as he stood in front of the Cayenne, watching me. He appeared to be a total gentleman, every hair in place, polished suit and tie, but I knew better—or at least I wanted to.

  “The man we’re looking for is this way,” he said.

  I took his hand, and it felt comfortable, like we could touch and talk and not just fuck like bunnies. It was a nice surprise.

  “So, did you grow up here?” I asked as we walked toward the row of shops.

  “No,” Quentin said. “My family has a place at Cape Wellsworth, not unlike the Brightwater.”

  “But you didn’t stay in Maine,” I said.

  “My brothers and I were sent away to different sides of the country for secondary education. Boarding schools when we were youn
ger.”

  “Not a warm snuggly kind of family, I’m guessing,” I said.

  “Not at all. How about your family?”

  “My mom’s the dragon,” I said. “Dad is human. Mom worked as an emissary in Badinor, so she wasn’t around much. It was just me and Dad most of the time. He was a fireman, and he loved me fiercely. We’d watch movies and eat popcorn late on the weekends.”

  “And do you see them still?”

  “Mom found love somewhere else,” I said. “After spending so much time away, she just stopped coming home one day.”

  “I apologize.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Dad was all I needed. I hardly remember my mother at all. And Dad, well, he’s seventy-three now. For a human, he’s not young. I visit him from time to time. I bring a movie and he makes the popcorn.”

  “That sounds rather nice.”

  We stopped walking in front of a store in the strip mall. The storefront was glass, and the neon sign above read Toaster Repair.

  “Do enough people actually get toasters fixed to require a whole store specializing in it?” I asked.

  “No.” Quentin opened the door and a little bell rang.

  The shop inside was dark. The scent was a mix of wolf shifter, metal, and microwaved mac and cheese. I recognized the last from my childhood. Stained carpeting covered the floor in a dull shade I imagined had once been blue. There were shelves on the walls with a variety of old toasters on them. Some looked like they could be antiques, others could be picked up for ten dollars at any other store.

  The man behind the counter wore a long coat, but it was nicer than the one I’d pictured when I’d imagined meeting some guy in an alley. His blond hair was greased back from his face, his forehead was wrinkled, and he had a long, hooked nose.

  “Don’t have anything you guys haven’t already bought,” the man said, glaring with beady eyes at Quentin.

  “Hi,” I said. “We just have a few questions to ask.”

  The man looked from Quentin to me, and back to Quentin.

  “We’re not here representing the Curtis Corporation,” Quentin said.

  “Oh.”

  The man seemed relieved. Not a surprise he wouldn’t want to work with Curtis—that company was known for bullying people to get what they wanted.