by Alyse Zaftig
The wrinkled noses accompanying the confirmation hadn’t gone unnoticed. The Alpha wasn’t very well thought of by his people. Not really a surprise, and exactly why I was here.
Squaring my shoulders as the bell sounded long and loud behind the thick, wooden door, I pasted on a pleasant smile. I’d make my own decisions about this Bastian Jewelcrest.
A crash sounded behind the door, a muffled thud, followed by a loud curse.
My eyebrows crept up toward my hairline.
The door swung open, a tall, large body filling the opening and casting me in shadow. “What?”
I blinked, speech escaping me for the first time in my life.
The man faced me, his gaze zigzagging over my face and down my body in determined strokes that had his head moving with the effort. Skin tanned a deep bronze gleamed in the soft light filtering through from the house, dark hair curling over his brow and shading his eyes. Over six feet tall, thick muscles filled every possible inch of clothing, straining the seams as well as the doorway.
Fact: I’d known he was a shifter. Therefore, I’d assumed he’d be attractive. Fit. Muscly, even.
But they’d failed to mention he’d look like a fallen angel.
A devastatingly, dangerous, fallen angel.
A hand shot out, and before I knew it, I’d been hauled inside, the door shutting behind me. My back hit the wall.
“You were fast,” he murmured, leaning into me and bracing an arm above my head.
I cleared my throat, trying to swallow the lump that was stuck. “Fast?”
“Very,” he confirmed, not answering my question one little bit. Blue glinted through the curtain of black hair, watching me.
My fingers itched to trace a path across his jaw; to scrape my nails down the dark shadow clinging to his neck. Heart thudding in my chest, I took a deep breath, centering myself. “I’m Faye—”
“Bastian. But you already knew that.” His lips quirked up in what could only be described as a grimace turned smirk. A sexy smirk.
“Yes. Bastian Jewelcrest.”
The man in question took a deep breath, then his mouth tightened, stretching his lips into thin lines. “Human,” he muttered under his breath, the word so quiet, I almost missed it.
What of it? I bristled at what felt like a racial slur, his tone of disappointment affecting me more than it should.
“Drunk,” I muttered back at him, the near overpowering smell of brandy finally hitting home.
He shrugged. “So what if I am? Doesn’t affect me.”
I pushed away from the wall. “You might think it doesn’t—”
His other arm came down around me, blocking my planned exit. “Sweetheart … alcohol doesn’t affect me at all.” His hips swayed against mine, defining his meaning to perfection.
“Let me see your eyes,” I blurted out, buying time. How the hell was I meant to talk to the guy, when I couldn’t see his face. His whole face.
He stilled before me, his chest rising and falling and stretching his shirt tight. Forearms corded with muscle and dusted with short, dark hairs, surrounded me, the tension radiating from him almost as intense as the heat that rolled off him.
Hot. Steaming hot. That answered one question, at least. Dragon shifters lived up to their name.
A flick of his head and the curtain of hair fell back. Sapphire blue eyes glittered, narrowed against my perusal, lines creeping out at the corner of each eye and digging into his tan. “Do I pass muster?” he murmured, almost squinting at me.
“Pass?” It came out on a breathy sigh, all reasonable and sane thought having vanished under his weighted stare. He was dazzling. Arresting. Dangerous and dark, with his little sexy, brooding scowl.
“I shouldn’t…” his voice trailed off, his gaze dipping to my mouth and lingering.
“Pass muster?” I offered, filling the silence. This wasn’t like me. I didn’t do soft and unsure; I was always in control. Ever since my life had been turned upside down, anyway.
“That as well.” He was talking in riddles, his deep, gravelly voice sinking into me and persuading me not to give a damn. “You’re the first one here though.”
His low mutter cut through the haze of desire that had somehow wound its way around me, ensnaring me with some sort of witchcraft I didn’t recognize. “You were expecting me?” That was not something I had considered, the Shifter Council having assured me that I’d at least have the element of surprise on my side.
He frowned at me, his eyes almost crossing with the effort to stay focused. “Sweetheart, why else would you be knocking on my door?” He leaned in, crowding me against the wall, the scent of man and brandy twining together to fill all available airspace with a sweet, musky smell.
Heat flooded me, pooling low in my stomach and settling in at a slow swirl. My heart thudded in my chest, air puffing out of my lips as I grappled with my last few remaining brain cells, forcing them back into line. I had a job to do, and it didn’t involve fucking the client or interviewee, or whatever the hell you wanted to call him.
“Last chance to run away,” he offered with a predatory smirk. Like he already knew my answer, had read it in the lines of my treacherous body. In my scent.
Shit! He could smell me. Heat flooded my cheeks at the thought of what he must be getting a good ole lung full of right now. No wonder he was surveying me like potential prey, his body poised to strike. Fast. Hard. And with exquisite, single-minded purpose. A moan escaped and I coughed, turning it into an undignified splutter. “Why don’t we get to know each other first?” Then I can figure out what the hell you’re up to…
“Sounds perfect.” His head lowered, a small smile playing on his unfairly gorgeous lips.
Lips that, under any other circumstance, I’d have no qualms nibbling and sucking, but not now. Not him. My hand shot up, bracing against his chest.
He stilled, an eyebrow shooting up in silent question.
Resisting the urge to curl my fingers into his shirt and drag him closer, I shook my head. “Get to know each other when you’re sober.” Thankfully, my voice sounded steady and firm.
He blinked, and I watched as it dawned on him that I was deadly serious, a look of disbelief sliding over his face, then disappearing under a mask of indifference. “Of course.” He straightened at once, turning away from me and shoving a hand through his hair.
“I’m going to need a room,” I suggested, affecting a light, airy voice. As if I didn’t have a care in the world. As if the man in front of me hadn’t knocked me sideways, realigning everything I thought to be true.
He regarded me with a watchful eye. “How long are you planning on staying?”
Pushing away from the wall, I yanked my inner diva up by her bra straps and strolled over to him. Casting my eyes down his body, I catalogued his strong legs, trim waist, and—with a twist of my neck—his firm ass. “As long as I want to.” At no point had my instructions ever said I wasn’t allowed to have a little fun, and after everything I’d been through this last year, I was overdue a karma booty call.
And Bastian Jewelcrest was shaping up to be the perfect candidate. Confident, easy on the eye, and wouldn’t know commitment if it reached up and smacked him between the eyes, or so I’d heard from the few people I’d grilled before accepting this case.
Putting a little swing into my hips, I walked past him, heading to the large, sweeping staircase. When his eyes dropped, gluing themselves to my rounded derriere, I allowed myself a small smile. First, to get the work out of the way, then a little fun. And God knows, I needed some fun in my life.
Chapter 2
Bastian
I cracked open an eye, squinting against the bright light that was busy burning holes into my retinas. The bed beneath me was hard—lumpy—my cheek smashed up against rough wood, a trail of drool having tracked down my cheek and dried in an itchy trail. A crick in my neck had me rolling over onto my back. My hand hit the floor, eyes staring at the ceiling.
Wait. Floor? A qu
ick survey and it was confirmed. I’d passed out just feet from the comfort of my bed, choosing—for some bizarre reason—to bed down on the floor for the night. My mouth drier than a dragon’s scales at high noon, I swallowed, wincing at the bitter taste of day old brandy while scrubbing a hand over my forehead as though it might jog my lackluster memory.
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 our 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!