Not His Dragon

by Annie Nicholas

  The witch examined the charm in her hand and led them to what Angie could only call the kitchen, but it really belonged on a movie set. A fire pit was the focus of the room where a cauldron sat upon the flame, its contents boiling. All manners of dried plants hung from the rafters and on the far wall a large wooden shelf held many different-sized jars with questionable contents.

  Next to Beth was a table where it appeared the witch had been rolling out cookies. A plate with the finished product sat within Beth’s reach and the omega plucked a cookie off the plate. Angie slapped it out of her hand and gave her an are you out of your mind look. It didn’t seem smart to be stealing cookies from a witch.

  Sabrina held the charm up in the light, nodding to herself. “Someone’s tampered with it.” Her declaration had Angie and Beth moving in opposite directions, with Angie getting closer to the witch and Beth toward the exit. “Someone removed a piece of my charm. See how these threads all match color?” She showed Angie the off-white thread holding some of the sticks together. “They shouldn’t be. This one should be red.” She raised her eyebrow at Beth. “Do you know anything about this?”

  Angie did a slow turn to face her best friend.

  Beth stared at her shoes. “I didn’t think that changing the thread colors would harm the charm. It looks prettier when the threads match.” She glanced up at Angie and gave her a sad smile. “I didn’t do it on purpose. You have to forgive me. I’ll pay for all the damages that I caused.”

  “The charms didn’t cause the damage, Beth. It just means that the good luck charms didn’t work. Right?”

  Sabrina gave the werewolf a stern glare. “She made them into hexes. You know better than to fool around with witchcraft untrained, Beth. Your alpha will be very displeased about this.”

  Angie massaged the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the headache that was forming. “Are you telling me that these charms have been the cause of all the things breaking in my shop?”

  “Unfortunately.” The witch took the curses—hexes, whatever!—to her table and began reassembling it. She waved Beth to come closer. “You may as well observe so you don’t make the same mistake again.” Was Beth dabbling in witchcraft or was it just her sense of fashion that had made her change the thread colors? They had lots to talk about on their date this weekend.

  The witch handed Beth the charm. “Did you alter the other charms I gave you?”

  The pretty shifter nodded.

  “Then fix the other ones like I just did.” She glanced at Angie. “You can bring them back here for me to double check her work. Things should improve at the shop now.” There were more of these hexes in her shop? Sabrina tapped Beth on the nose with a sharp fingernail. “All is forgiven, little wolf. Now go to your car while I have a private word with your friend.”

  Beth left without question.

  Angie’s heart drummed as she watched her friend leave. What could the witch want to talk to her about?

  Sabrina seemed to be looking at the air surrounding Angie. As she drew closer, she waved her fingers through something unseen. “We’ve taken care of your bad luck, but what about this personal curse that surrounds you?”

  Angie didn’t think her heart could have beaten any faster. She swallowed with a throat gone dry. “You can see it?” It hadn’t occurred to her or Eoin to seek out advice from other magic practitioners. Well, maybe it had occurred to him but he hadn’t mentioned it.

  “Your aura is not human. It’s actually quite blinding. Something surrounds it and holds it close to your body. If it were flame, you would be cremated within seconds.” Sabrina blinked, rubbed her eyes. “I can remove it.” She gave Angie a knowing smile. “For a price.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sunlight gleamed off the lump of metal that Eoin had dragged to the middle of what he thought of as his statue room. The surface of the sculpture was warmer, but not from his flame. He rubbed his hands together, braced his feet, took a deep breath like the big bad wolf and blew.

  Nothing happened.

  Well, that was not true. He managed to coat the surface with spit. If he’d been from the Trigog clan, then the spit would have eaten through the metal like acid.

  He wiped his mouth and paced around the lump of trash then kicked it. Fucker. People used to tremble at his flame. He could burn down a barn with a sneeze. Roast a marshmallow with his control. He roared at the material and triggered his flame. All gone. Coughing, he leaned against the metal and caught his breath. Eoin, harbinger of smoke and darkness, was no more.

  His gaze rested on the metallic version of Angie’s ass. From here, even the solid material seemed soft like her skin. It cried out to be caressed. Damn, he could be good with the right drive. Just last night, he’d flamed while sculpting her curves. Hell, he’d been so hot he hadn’t needed to blow flame. The heat from his hands had softened the material. He had burned with desire.

  Now he was dead cold with concern. He’d given her a lift to work this morning, but she’d insisted he leave her alone for the rest of the day to think about the information he dumped on her at breakfast. Did a phone call cross the line? He respected her independence, but not when it came to them. Had his invasion into her past pushed her away?

  Viktor was Eoin’s guide to human behavior. He’d been human once. In his present state, though, Eoin couldn’t trust anything he said.

  It hadn’t occurred to Eoin that Angie would still go to work after finding out about her adoption. If he had his way, she’d never work another day in her life. She could keep him company instead. He had enough wealth to provide for her every need. But she had insisted, saying something about appointments and customers and keeping schedules. Things that had never concerned him in his long life until recently.

  His agent would be by sometime today to pick up his new displays for the gallery. Unfortunately, Eoin didn’t even know if any of the statues were finished. Angie’s statue definitely was, but that one was for him; it wouldn’t be going on any display. Rubbing the back of his neck, he paced the room.

  Stress. Viktor had mentioned something about stress being the cause of his flaming issues.

  His potential mate was in distress and wouldn’t see him, other males were in the city wanting to steal her and she had a curse preventing her from shifting. He shouldn’t be in the castle while Angie was in the city dealing with her own emotional crisis. He should be at her side, helping her fight these personal demons. Every cell in his body was crying out for him to begin the mating dance the moment she crossed his threshold.

  Eoin wiped a thin sheet of sweat off his forehead.

  Angie couldn’t respond, though. It was like dancing with a partner who couldn’t hear the music. It wouldn’t be long before these urges drove him insane.

  The solution lay in Angie’s past. How had her parents gotten hold of a baby dragon without knowing? It was true that dragon offspring didn’t manifest true shifting capabilities until about ten or twelve years old. Yet, there should’ve been other signs, like her claws. If he couldn’t convince her to dig further into her past, then he’d have to do it on his own for both their sakes.

  A distant voice called hello from his foyer and caught his attention. Who had the audacity to enter his castle uninvited? Again. Maybe he should get an alarm system. He stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed as he listened to the approaching footsteps.

  Roger stuck his head into the room and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “Knock, knock.”

  Eoin relaxed his tense muscles. He’d expected another dragon. Fuck, what if one of those other two bastards were at Angie’s shop talking her up right now? She’d agreed to be his mate but Cedric owned more gold than most countries and Zechariah had that full head of hair. He was sure that if she had been able to shift she would have continued the mating dance. But she hadn’t, and that left her susceptible to other male influence.

  His agent wandered into the room, gaze darting to the statues in different phases of completion.
“Love it, love it.” He stopped by the work that was filled with spiky imprints of his claws. He ran a finger against one of the points and gasped. A drop of blood dangled on the tip. “Sharp.” He sucked his finger. “We’ll have to post a warning on this one.” He spoke with his mouth full. His eyes widened as his gaze fell upon Angie’s statue. He dropped his hand and made a beeline for it.

  Eoin cocked his head to the side and lowered his brow, following the agent’s direction.

  “Wow this…this—” Roger held out his hands toward Angie’s torso. “Wow, this just makes me want to touch it.” He ran his hands over Angie’s perfect ass.

  A growl tore from Eoin’s throat.

  The sharp piercing noise made his agent jump from the statue. “What the fuck?” He eyed Eoin as if he’d shifted to dragon form.

  “Don’t touch her.” Eoin strode between the statue and his agent. “This one is not for display. It’s for my private collection only.”

  Holding out his hands in front of him, his agent backed away. “Okay, take it easy, buddy.” He continued retreating until he winced. “Ouch.” He jerked his left shoulder away from one of the sharp points of another statue. There was a fresh bloodstain on his shirt. “Fuck, Eoin. You don’t have to go all dragon on my ass. I’m on your side, remember?” He pressed his hand to his wound.

  “Of course I do. It’s what I am.” He grabbed his agent by the arm and guided him into the kitchen where he pulled out the First Aid kit. “Sit on that stool and take off your shirt.” He pulled out disinfectant and gauze. “I am a dragon. It’s the only way I know how to act. Just don’t touch that statue. It’s personal.”

  His agent sat where he was told and removed his shirt, glancing over his shoulder at the wound. “Can’t believe how sharp that sculpture is.”

  “What did you expect? I made it with my claws.” Eoin poured the peroxide over the wound.

  His agent hissed. “That stings!”

  Eoin had kept his hand on Roger’s shoulder so he wouldn’t escape the chair. “No shit.” He applied a bandage after inspecting the wound. “It’s just a flesh wound. Girls like scars.” He slapped his agent on the injured shoulder and put way the First Aid box.

  His agent tried to hide his wince of pain. “Four statues makes a poor show. Do you have any other things I can bring to the gallery?”

  Eoin shook his head. “I can’t work like this.” He paced the kitchen. He couldn’t help the need to move when pressured. It was the animal in him. “I’m preoccupied with some personal issues and it’s really fuckin’ around with my control. You have to cancel the show.”

  His agent jumped to his feet, pointing back toward his workroom. “That’s the best damn work I’ve ever seen you make. That sharp statue, whatever you call it, is so full of violence and rage it makes me want to scream looking at it. Don’t get me started talking about the ass one… I kind of want to keep my organs inside.”

  Eoin darted glare in his direction. “Smart.”

  “If I cancel the show it’s going to be impossible for me to book any others when you backed out at the last minute on Lorenzo. Contrary to popular belief, galleries don’t want to work with difficult artists. It’s do or die, man. This is it. The statues.” He pointed back to the workroom. “We just need two more.”

  “I can’t focus. Period.” Eoin wasn’t going to tell Roger he was flame impotent. “I need to take care of my personal life.”

  “Have you ever considered that the turmoil in your personal life is inspiring you to make these fabulous pieces of work?”

  Eoin rubbed his eyebrow and stared at his feet. Roger was the closest thing to a human friend he’d had in years. “No.” He needed the contact to keep in touch with the species. They changed so fast, he couldn’t stay informed on his own. How could he explain how shredded his insides were, to a creature who didn’t have similar mating instincts? Humans had a choice to follow their heart or not. They didn’t know what a blessing that could be. “Look, I can’t explain in terms you’ll understand. It’s a dragon thing.”

  Roger rubbed his injured shoulder. “Try me.”

  Eoin had signed with Roger as his agent because he was relentless. It was ironic that his agent would turn those skills on him. He chewed the inside of his cheek. “I lost my ability to blow flame a few days ago.”

  “Oh.”

  Crossing the small space between them, Eoin pinned the human to his chair. “This doesn’t leave the room.”

  Roger’s face drained of color. “Never.” He made a zipping motion across his mouth. “I like living. It’s better than dead.”

  Eoin nodded. He’d also chosen Roger because he was a smart man. “Without flame, heating the material enough to work with it is impossible.”

  “I can get you a blow torch.” Roger waited through Eoin’s silence before adding, “What about a flame thrower?”

  The dragon snorted. “I need time.” Focusing on Angie and finding a way for her to shift was his priority. With other males chasing her tail, he couldn’t afford the luxury of art. Until he mated Angie, nothing in the universe mattered. “Cancel the show.”

  “Eoin, you’re making a mistake.”

  “It’s time for you to leave. I’ll contact you when the work is done.” If it was ever done.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Beth seemed caught within her own bubble of quiet as she drove from the witch’s house.

  Angie glanced at her from the corner of her eye. She had hexes to fix at the shop. Maybe Beth was thinking on what she had to repair? Angie had her own concerns to worry about. The witch had offered to remove Angie’s curse. Could it be so simple? Simple being a relative word. She hadn’t asked the witch for details. Maybe she had to sacrifice her first-born child or something crazy. Or maybe not. The price was steep, so the risk could belong all to the witch.

  Beth pulled up to the curb in front of Angie’s apartment building. “I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, Angie. I want to help pay for the damages.”

  “Is that what you’ve been worrying about? It could all be just coincidence, Beth. All of those things could have been broken with or without those hexes.” Beth would be up all night if Angie didn’t nip her guilt in the bud.

  “I’m responsible.” She clutched her hands in front of her chest. “I should have asked you first before buying those charms.”

  “You were trying to help. Look, if you want you can pay for lunch this weekend and consider the driving lessons payback.” She held out her hand to her best friend. “Deal?”

  Beth grinned and shook her hand eagerly. “Deal.”

  Angie exited the car and hurried to her apartment. Once inside, she pulled out her smartphone and checked her bank account balances. Her meager savings didn’t even come close to covering the price. Sabrina would laugh in her face. If she withdrew her limit on her credit cards, she could gather maybe half. Noodles would become her dietary staple.

  She’d spent the past year saving every dime so she could move. Each time something broke at her shop that savings account grew smaller and smaller until it hardly existed. The only thing that she’d ever wanted was a home, but now those dreams had changed. Whose dreams wouldn’t change after finding out they were a full blooded—holy crap!—dragon?

  If she could shift, she would never have to drive a car. She would fly everywhere, like Japan and Africa. Then what? It’s not like she had a clan waiting, but she didn’t need a clan. She was sure Eoin would be right at her side, helping her every step of the way. Her life was finally coming together after all the other disappointments and neglect. She had something positive blooming in her future. The hexes in her shop would be changed to lucky charms, so things should stop breaking and she’d save money on repairs. Now this, a possible cure.

  She could borrow the money. Her stomach cramped. Ryota was rolling in it. Eoin might have the funds—she just couldn’t be sure with the dragon because of the state of his castle. Beth could afford to lend her the cash. What was Angi
e still doing sitting in her fucking apartment? She should be making calls, begging on her knees so Sabrina could remove her curse.

  Doubt, that’s why. Part of her still believed that she’d wake from this dream. No matter how much Eoin insisted she was a dragon, she still felt…human.

  She dropped onto the kitchen chair and rested her forehead on the table, closing her eyes. She’d seen her dragon. They’d been so close to touching. She tried to picture her in her mind again with the dark, black, glossy scales and the sharp claws. She slowed her breathing until she sensed something click within her head. There in the distance—faintly, she could see the outline of her dragon, except now she wasn’t black. She seemed pale of color and the shapes of her scales seemed longer, more rounded in shape. The darker dragon was really a figment of her imagination. What she pictured her dragon shape would look like since she’d never actually shifted. Was this dragon her true form? She raced towards her other shape. The closer she drew, the more distant the dragon seemed.

  Shoving back from the table with a screech, she stood. As long as she had the shield surrounding her aura, she couldn’t touch magic. She wouldn’t be able to make contact with her dragon shape. She ran her hands over her short hair, her palm brushing against the ruby stud Eoin had given her. Her heart skipped a beat.

  Rubies were valuable…

  And her neighborhood had many pawnshops.

  Screw her apartment and her dreams to move. Nothing would stop her from achieving her true self. She stormed from the apartment building and strode to the closest pawnshop. Pushing inside, she inhaled the stale air. Filled shelves with knick-knacks and electronics crowded the store. At the counter, a familiar pock-marked face grinned at her. “Long time no see.”

  In the past, before she opened her shop, she’d used to pawn her garage sale findings frequently to help ends meet. “Hey.” She grinned back. “Been busy with a job.” She set the ruby stud on the counter. “I want to pawn this.”