Ran just pulled her possessively against his shoulder, tucking her there as Draven pouted, pushing himself up on his elbow to face them.
“So you gonna get all possessive now that you can share everything?” Draven asked.
Ran thought about it. “Maybe. But I’m sure you will as well. Still…” He stroked a finger down Melissa’s back, and she gave a little gasp and arched in surprise. “I’m sure there’s plenty of this to go around.”
Melissa grinned as Draven pulled her close and Ran tugged back until the two dragons settled with her right between them, resting on her back with each of them at her sides. “That was amazing,” she said. “All of it.”
Ran smiled and then drew his brows together in consternation. “Damn, we forgot to show you our treasure.”
“Treasure?” she asked, sitting up and stretching, loving the languid feel of her body after orgasm.
“Right,” Draven said, rubbing his chin. “Totally forgot. Well, we didn’t have time with Drake showing up to ruin everything.”
“Or did he?” Melissa asked, wrapping her hands over her knees and rubbing lightly. The silky water in the tub had left her skin fresh and soft, and she loved the feel of it. And the masculine, clean scents of her mates around her. “After all, if none of this had happened, maybe I never would have had to courage to become your mate.”
Draven raised an eyebrow. “Oh, somehow I doubt that. I’m pretty sure you’re about as bad as Ran when it comes to getting what you what.”
“Hey, I wanted the noble sacrifice. If I hadn’t been dying, I’d have stopped her,” Ran said.
Melissa raised her hands in triumph, laughing when both pairs of male eyes went straight to her breasts. “I win.”
“Why you little…” Ran let out a playful growl and pulled her back down between them, trapping her with his weight against her side. “Still, I think we’re the ones who won in the end, right, Draven?”
Draven nodded. “I just wish we could have shown you our treasure. We were hoping it would sweeten the deal.”
“What is it?” she joked, joining her hand with Ran’s, loving the look of their different skin colors together. Her other hand caught Draven’s, and he relaxed against her. “Gold and jewels? In a cave or grotto?” She laughed and then noticed both dragons weren’t saying anything.
“You’re kidding,” she said. “Not seriously…”
Draven scratched his head. “Well, sort of an underground cave. And there are some old swords and such… But yes, gold and jewels. When we go back there, we’ll pick out your ring.”
She blinked. “Ring?”
“Right,” he said. “To show the world you’re our treasure.”
She frowned. “You don’t own me.”
Draven nuzzled her neck. “We don’t have to own you to treasure you.” Then he let out his breath and went silent for a moment. “I don’t know how to thank you. Brave, stupid, I don’t know what you are. I guess you’re a dragon-heart, which is a misnomer, because I swear you’re braver than I am…”
She shook her head. “No, I—”
He put a finger to her lips. “Let me finish. I don’t know how to thank you. For saving my partner, for completing my life. For being so ridiculous that we had to bring you back here and take a chance on you. I guess what I mean to say is thanks for turning my life upside down and giving it back to me right side up.”
“Draven! How romantic,” Ran teased, earning him a dark glare.
“Don’t you have anything to say? She saved your life,” Draven retorted.
Ran went still and thoughtful, beautiful features tensed. “No. I think I’ve already said what I wanted to, back when we mated.” Then he pushed up on an elbow, looking down at her. “But I do want you to know I’ll always protect you and love you, with everything I have. I love you, Melissa.”
Her eyes widened as Draven joined Ran, brushing back her hair and looking in her eyes. “That goes for me too. I’ll love you with everything I have. And I’ll protect you more than you would ever want.”
“That’s for sure,” Ran muttered.
She laughed and wrapped an arm around each of their necks, pulling them close in a hug and then letting them go. They stared down at her, looking like typical, confused males. She grinned up at them. “I couldn’t love you more. Both of you.”
Ran lay back beside her. “Yeah, I sort of got that when you risked your life for a one-in-six chance to save me.”
Draven lay back as well. “I still can’t believe you did that.”
She thought about it for a moment. “I guess I should have known I’m a dragon-heart after all.”
“Huh? Why?” Draven asked, looking disturbed that there was something she’d picked up on that he hadn’t.
“I mean, in the end, I’m all about the treasure. Greedy.”
“What do you mean?” Ran asked, rising on an elbow to glare at her. “You didn’t even see the treasure.”
She looked at them meaningfully. “Hell yeah, I did. Something worth more than gold. Something once in a lifetime. I was willing to pay any price.”
The dragons looked at each other in confusion.
She slapped a hand over her face. “The treasure is you. You’re the treasure,” she snapped, and they both widened their eyes in comprehension.
“Sorry,” Draven said. “Dragons can be kind of literal when it comes to treasure.”
“Yup,” Ran said. “But I have to say, ever since you walked into our lives, no other treasure has seemed to matter.”
“It’s settled, then,” Draven joked. “You two have the metaphorical treasure, and I’ll handle the rest.”
Ran grinned and pulled Melissa against him. “Okay.”
Draven’s eyes narrowed. “Never mind. I changed my mind. My treasure too.”
Melissa laughed as she once again felt herself pressed between two possessive dragons as they argued about treasure.
Still, it was all more wonderful than she’d ever hoped. She didn’t need jewels or gold or powers. The greatest treasure was just having someone to love and be loved by. And she had that in Ran and Draven.
She felt calm pulsing through her veins and realized just how different life was going to be from here on out. When the men got tired of arguing, they looked at her curiously.
“What’s wrong?” Draven asked, looking worried.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just thinking that nothing will ever be the same from now on.”
“That’s right,” Ran said. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” she said, relaxing into the sheets and the feeling of safety she had from being with both of them. “It’s actually pretty wonderful."
The men relaxed into the bed for a nap, cuddling her in a tangled mass of limbs, utterly overwhelming as usual. Melissa could hardly believe how full her heart felt as she listened to their relaxed breathing.
She didn’t know what dragon-hearted truly meant. She didn’t know how she’d earned the incredible gift she’d been given. She just knew whatever she was, she belonged to her dragons.
And they belonged to her.
That thought was the greatest treasure of all.
* * *
* * *
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Jordan Vale winced at the glaring lights in front of him. Cameras, news people, commentators, and reporters from every sports news station were in attendance at the press conference. A wall of microphones and eager faces hoping to get the latest scoop so they could keep their pathetic jobs.
Jordan hated reporters.
Seated next to him on his right was Ken, his manager. Though, as managers went, Ken was much more of a businessman than an MMA guy. Anything that involved fighting, Jordan took care of by himself.
But apparently, that wasn’t enough.
Ken did most of the talking, as he was doing right now, giving a brief overview of their tours of the past few years. Jordan had gone completely undefeated, and he didn’t even bother counting the number of victories he had now.
The purpose of the press conference was to announce the future of Jordan’s career in mixed martial arts.
“So it is with great reluctance I announce a temporary hiatus for all of Jordan’s future plans in professional MMA,” said Ken diplomatically into the bouquet of microphones before him.
After a collective gasp, a loud murmur erupted in the room. Reporters instantly raised hands and began talking, trying to get their questions answered. Ken just held out his hands, shushing the crowd until they were sufficiently quiet to allow him to speak again.
“Now, before any questions, I’d like to remind you this is a temporary hold. Jordan has been going full speed for quite a while, and we all think it’s about time he had a vacation and some peace and quiet,” Ken added.
Nice spin, Jordan thought. The fact was the decision had been everyone’s but his own.
“So with that being said, I’d like to open it up for questions now,” Ken finished.
Hands went sky-high again, and Ken chose someone at random to begin the barrage.
“Mr. Vale, with this hiatus being announced, what are your plans from here on out?” asked a woman in a blue jacket and skirt.
Jordan cleared his throat and started to recite his pre-prepared answers. “I’m not sure. Maybe finally get around to using that beach house? Maybe take up pottery?” Jordan choked out.
Lie. Lie. Double lie.
Ken pointed at another raised hand, and a man several rows back stood this time, holding a notepad and a pen.
“Mr. Vale, with all the victories you’ve had during your career, do you feel your team might be afraid you’re taking up too much of the spotlight?”
“No, not at all. I’m not sure what the team’s plans are, to be honest,” Jordan replied, hoping to keep things vague.
A third person was chosen from the crowd. Another man, this one with glasses.
“Mr. Vale, are the rumors true that you’re being kicked off the team and forced into retirement because of your recent behavior and the loss of sponsors?” the man asked with just the smallest hint of snideness.
There was another gasp from the crowd, this one even louder, at the accusation. An onslaught of camera flashes went off, and the sounds of shutters could be heard intermixed with murmurs and whispers amongst the attendees.
This was the kind of reporter Jordan hated most. An instigator. The kind of reporter that was always trying to stir up trouble in the hopes of making their story juicier.
Hoping to hedge the crowd’s newfound interest in this particular scandal, Ken grabbed one of the mics in front of him and responded immediately. “No, that is not the case at all. Jordan is just taking a brief break and should be returning shortly. We’ll keep you posted when his schedule opens up. No further questions.” He ended abruptly, standing from his chair and walking out.
Jordan was already out of the room before Ken had even finished his statement. He was so tired of the news game. Of spinning things so it pleased the media. Of making up crap to satiate the masses.
Ken began pacing in the small hallway connecting to the newsroom where he and Jordan were now alone. The noise from the room was growing louder as whispers turned to talking and talking turned to near yelling as people tried to talk over each other, speculating about what it all meant or calling their stations to plan out when their segment would be airing.
“Geez, it’s a friggin’ bloodbath in there,” Ken said, running his hand through his hair. He was starting to sweat a little from stress.
Jordan just propped himself up on the wall, leaning against it lazily. “Fun times, right?”
Ken snapped. “You see? This is the exact reason we’re doing this in the first place. You don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself.”
“Whoa,” Jordan replied, getting annoyed. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”
The fact of the matter was Ken was a good manager. Maybe even a great manager. But he had the tendency to keep too much inside and then explode on people, even his own friends.
More importantly, Ken was a wolf-shifter, like Jordan, and thus understood him a little better than most.
“I know you don’t. But if you’re going to come back to pro MMA, you’re going to need help.” Ken looked Jordan straight in the eye, now in coach mode.
“What the hell does that even mean, help?” Jordan replied, exasperated.
“It means someone to assist you in improving your image. Someone that can make the public like you better.”
“Why does that even matter? I win, don’t I?”
“Winning isn’t enough, Jordan. If nobody likes you, nobody is going to watch your fights. No viewers, no sponsors. No sponsors, no money.”
Jordan was silent. He wanted nothing more than to get out of there and go to town on a punching bag.
“Look, I’ve already got someone. She’s done great things with other fighters before. If you can prove to me you’re able to turn this around and put on a good face, then we can talk about scheduling fights for you again,” Ken said.
“And what if I’m not able to?”
“That’s for me to decide,” a third voice chimed in. Both men turned to look at the newcomer to the conversation.
“Senna. Senna Christy.” The woman reached out her hand to Jordan. He just stood there, watching.
She was a good deal shorter than him, though since he was 6’3” almost everyone was. She was wearing a black suit and had a curvy body that belonged in the bedroom. She also had a pretty, heart-shaped face with straight, shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes.
“Is this what you call getting someone?” Jordan asked his boss dryly.
“I’m one of the best in the business,” she replied formally. “I don’t have time for games, so if that’s all this is to you, Mr. Vale, then I’ll be leaving,” she replied, beginning to turn around.
“No, wait, please,” Ken implored. “Jordan, it’s either this or you can kiss your career good-bye.”
Jordan groaned. “Fine. But don’t expect me to come out of this all starry-eyed and kissing the fans’ butts.”
“Good. In the meantime, I have interviews to get to and some major damage control to do. Call me when you get back to your place,” Ken said, leaving them and waving behind him as he trotted down the hall.
And then there were two.
For a moment, they sized each other up. Jordan peered down at the much smaller, but still feisty woman in front of him. Senna evaluated her newest client, looking unintimidated.
Senna spoke first. “So a perfect win record. No violations or law breaking. On paper, you’d look like the perfect professional.” She pulle
d out a folder from a leather briefcase at her side.
“Thank you. Why are you here, again?” Jordan asked.
“Because in your last fight you KO’ed the fighter with one punch, walked out of the ring, and disappeared for a month without a single statement to the press or your fans,” she said, her voice rising slightly.
“I don’t see a problem with that,” Jordan said with a shrug.
“It makes you look like an ass. You have a sterling reputation for being unlikable, Jordan Vale,” she said, punctuating his name. He loved the way his name sounded from this woman, even when she was angry.
“So what are we to do about this travesty, then?” Jordan asked sarcastically, pushing off the wall and starting to meander down the hall toward the exit.
Senna followed closely behind him.
“Over the next little while, I’m going to be your PR manager. I’ll be in charge of your schedule, planning any events you attend, and ensuring all public appearances you make have a positive impact on how the MMA community and your fans see you. In short, I’m here to make you look good,” she said curtly.
Jordan looked to his side and enjoyed the way her hips swayed as she walked. “Make me look good? If you say so.” He still wasn’t sold on the whole idea, but at least the person he was going to be working with was incredibly hot. “So when do we start?”
“Right now,” she replied, matter-of-fact.
“Wait, what?” Jordan asked, caught off guard.
“My things are already in your car. I assume you’re heading back to your place. I have a hotel rented nearby where you can drop me off.”
“So you really are going to follow me around everywhere?”
“Exactly. What’s the point of having a PR coach if you screw everything up when I’m not watching you?” she asked, as if this seemed perfectly normal.
“Believe me, some of the places I go, you won’t want to follow.”
“Try me,” Senna challenged.
“Very well, have it your way.” They were already at Jordan’s car, and he hopped inside, turning on the engine before Senna was fully inside and buckled up.
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