by J. K Harper
Sabrina stuttered, her mind overrun with responses. All of them were variations of “yes”, some with too many exclamation points to be considered proper for any journalist. She couldn’t get a single word out though, so instead she opted for nodding.
There, on the roof of a forgotten mansion, wrapped up in the arms of a dragon, Sabrina Corrolie finally realized that whatever she wanted could really come true if she just had the courage to go for it. And sometimes, when she was lucky, what she wanted would come to her when she least expected it.
She reached up, balancing herself on his biceps, her lips hungry for a kiss. He gave in without question, and when he kissed her, the world seemed to truly disappear around them. The rain was forgotten, as was the wind, and all she could feel was the most blissful heat that seemed to fill her completely and wrap her in a cocoon of safety and happiness.
“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly when the kiss ended, rain trickling down both their faces. “Yes, I will stay.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Donovan said with a grin, hugging her tight.
Funny how sometimes it took near-death to show what really mattered in life, and how easy it was to overcome things when there was something worth fighting for on the other side.
Epilogue
Donovan
“It’s gorgeous,” Pearl gasped, walking next to Donovan, her hand on Ares’.
“It really is something,” Ares agreed, giving Donovan a nod of his head.
“Thank you. I could not have done it without Sabrina,” Donovan said, pulling his mate closer to him.
“Right, because I know anything about antique furniture or art,” Sabrina scoffed as they strolled through Snarling Dragon Manor, showing their guests the freshly redecorated rooms.
“I would never have taken on this project without you, you know that,” Donovan said lightly, planting a kiss on the top of Sabrina’s head.
Fires were burning in all the hearths, and the house that had seemed so forgotten and gloomy a year ago was now filled with light, warmth and happiness. The Goldplains had been the first to arrive, though Donovan was expecting most of Shifter Grove to show up within the next few hours. Who would want to miss a Halloween party in the premiere haunted house in Idaho, after all?
Well, that was probably only a part of the appeal. Seeing the lord of the house had to have been a big piece of it as well, along with enjoying a good party. It would be the first time that Donovan Silvertip would open his house and home to the community and indeed meet most of them as well.
It had been a fantastic year for Donovan. Not only had Sabrina agreed to move to Shifter Grove and settle in with him, he had also learned that there was more to life than simply hiding away in the darkness of his beloved lair. Slowly but surely, he had begun rebuilding the manor itself, as well as meeting the people that made up Shifter Grove in all its glory.
The latter had taken considerable coaxing from Sabrina, and he had started slowly, only getting to know the men who had come to rebuild the road that led to the mansion, and then moving from there. But progress had been made, clearly evident in the fact that he was now throwing this party at his sanctuary.
“Oh, Sabrina, would you show me the nursery?” Pearl asked suddenly.
Donovan frowned for a moment, but a soothing squeeze from Sabrina wiped that emotion from his expression. He was still, and likely would always be, very guarded with most of his emotions and what was going on with his family and work, but Sabrina had shown him that he didn’t need to expect the worst from the world.
Sometimes, a little bit of trust could lead to good things.
“I thought we were keeping that to ourselves until the wedding, my little one,” Donovan commented with a slight smile.
“Right, like you could hide a dragon pregnancy from another dragonkin mother,” Pearl said with a snort as she took Sabrina’s hand. “Come now before the others get here!”
Sabrina mouthed a quick “I’m sorry!”, followed by an “I love you!” with a beaming smile over her shoulder at Donovan before scampering off with Pearl.
I love you too, Donovan thought, allowing himself a smile.
Words that he thought he would never speak to anyone a year ago had become commonplace, comfortable and familiar to him now. It felt good.
The nursery was on the second floor, but the men had returned to the main reception hall of the manor, the one that Sabrina had set up her little camp in the first time she’d come to the house.
Now, the room was restored to its former glory. The walls were covered in priceless paintings, many of which Donovan had brought up from the vaults. The floors had been buffed and waxed, the windows fixed and the furniture brought in once more. Of course, at the moment, the whole place was swarming with servants preparing plates of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne.
“I think this might be the fanciest party we’ve ever had in Shifter Grove,” Ares remarked as he picked up two glasses from a waiter skittering by them, handing one to Donovan.
“Definitely for Halloween,” Donovan said, accepting the glass with a nod. “But I think what you meant to say was that this is the most dragon party we’ve had in Shifter Grove.”
Ares met his grin, and they clinked their glasses before both taking a sip.
A year ago, a whiff of the man’s scent had sent Donovan snarling and his dragon thrashing. And now he welcomed him in his house. How the times changed.
There was a kind of kinship between the two dragons. Though they both protected their hoard and would never allow the other to even catch a sight of it, aside from that, they’d become … well, friends. Another concept that had been alien to Donovan before Sabrina had waltzed into his life and changed everything for the better.
It helped that he was now only days away from making Sabrina his wife and binding her to him for life. Though there was no doubt in his mind that she was already his, completely and truly, it could only be sealed when that dragon stone around her neck was turned into a precious jewel and his hoard was made as much hers as it was his.
He couldn’t wait.
“Are you sure you’re ready to deal with all of Shifter Grove in your home?” Ares asked after a moment, hearing the sound of the first trucks arriving in front of the manor.
“Well, as long as I can observe them from a distance when need be, I think I can handle it,” Donovan said with a slight smirk.
“What do you mean?” Ares asked with a frown.
Instead of answering, Donovan pulled the mask that he had kept tucked in his hair over his face. The black and silver swirls hid his eyes and most of his features, leaving only his strong chin and thin smile to identify him.
“Ah, that would explain it,” Ares chuckled, pulling on his as well.
What better time to get acquainted with all of Shifter Grove than during a masquerade ball.
Not all steps had to be big ones, after all. Some things could be tackled piece by piece, and while Donovan Silvertip still had days when he wanted to throw his mate over his shoulder and hide away underneath the mountain, he knew that he was far happier now than he had ever hoped to be. Embracing change came with that, for better or for worse.
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About the Author
Anya Nowlan loves sex and writing about it. The sexier and naughtier the better. She mostly writes paranormal and fantasy erotic shorts, focusing on shifters and their lucky mates. Her stories are bite-sized, just what you need to soothe that craving for brave women and growly alphas with a big side-order of smutty sex.
Anya lives in Boston with her boyfriend and several dogs of varying sizes and levels of mischief. She can't go through a day without chocolate and has an unhealthy addiction to purses, but every girl is allowed her little vices, right?
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Her Dragon Protector
by Olivia Arran
Chapter 1
Trent
This is it.
I stare at the door, sizing it up as if it were a living beast ready to challenge me to a duel. All I have to do is push open the door and confirm my suspicions.
I hesitate, my hand wavering in the air.
What if I’m wrong? What if she isn’t here; if it isn’t her?
Two years I’ve been looking. Two long fucking years I’ve been living out of a bag, traveling across states, crossing oceans, always tired, always searching. Never able to go home.
It has to be her.
Still my hand didn’t move. My feet stayed glued to the sidewalk as the monotonous drizzle of rain continued to plaster my hair to my skull, seeping into my clothes and chilling my bones.
So what if it isn’t her? I’ll keep looking. I’d agreed to this task, vowing to find her. So, man the hell up!
Gritting my teeth, I eased the door open and slipped inside, grabbing the small bell above my head before it had a chance to ring.
Warmth wrapped around me, melting the chill of London in late October. The sweet smell of incense and fragrant tea filled my lungs. The store was lit with an intimate glow, small lamps dotting a multitude of shelves, heroically trying to do their job of pushing the shadows back. With my head down, I made my way across the back of the store, blending into the shadows as I pretended to browse the gaudy knickknacks and baubles, the riot of colors stinging my eyes after the bleak gray of the city outside.
But I wasn’t really looking; my whole attention was riveted on the woman holding court at the front of the store.
She was tiny, with long dark strands of hair hanging loose from a messy knot on her head, and adding a good four inches in height. Her hands flew in the air, punctuating her speech with jabs of elegant fingers, her arms a golden brown in the flickering light. Her whole body swayed with animation as she argued her point with a passion I could feel from my position across the room.
“…So, of course you have to go after her.” Her accent was barely there, just a slight trace remaining, a soft blur to the odd word, but not enough to notice. Unless you were really listening.
Like I was.
Exultation filled me, the roar of satisfaction crashing through me. It was her. But her picture hadn’t done her justice, hadn’t captured the … I paused, trying to put my finger on exactly what had been missing. Life. That was it—she sang with life, her beauty truly coming alive when she moved. Her exuberance was a vibrating, tangible thing that I could almost reach out and touch.
The man she was with wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.
My dragon uncoiled within me, his tail lashing as a snarl spilled from his lips. Remove the human … he whispered inside my head, his anger washing through me in a trickle of red-hot heat. She is not for him.
No, and she’s not for us either. I knew what he was thinking, I could hear his thoughts clearly in my mind. The woman interested him; he wanted to taste her.
I shoved him back, until he had faded to a mere afterthought. It had been too long, that was all. I grunted, trying to remember the last time I’d kissed a woman, let alone fucked one. Too fucking long.
“Can I help you?”
I blinked. The man had gone. The woman stood alone in the shop and she was staring at me. This is what happens when you allow yourself to get distracted. I stepped forward into the light.
She smiled at me, the practiced smile of a store owner greeting a potential customer.
At her smile, the warmth intensified, sliding against my skin, nudging at the weariness that consumed me and pushing it away. The shadows in my mind lifted, my despair and loneliness melting away along with the shackles of the responsibility that tied me.
Without thinking, I grinned back at her.
Her smile widened, then faltered, slipping at the corners as panic filled her gaze.
The darkness came crashing back, tugging me back down and sucking the breath from my lungs. What the—?
“Who are you?” It was almost a whisper.
Steeling myself, I took another step forward. “Trent. A dragon shifter, like you.”
She stiffened. “I’m not a dragon, and you should leave.” She turned away, her back rigid.
I had to give it to her, her voice didn’t waver or break, even though she looked ready to bolt. “Astrid?”
She sucked in a breath, her hands trembling as she scooped up a small dish.
I stepped closer, dragging air into my lungs. She might deny it, but there was no denying— Almost stumbling, I ground to a stop. Nostrils flaring, I sucked in another breath, filtering away the incense and tea that masked her scent.
Nothing.
I couldn’t smell her.
My dragon screamed with rage, metaphorical flames spilling from his mouth at being denied this woman’s scent.
She glanced over her shoulder, offering me a small shrug of apology. “See? I’m not a dragon. You have the wrong person.” Her emerald green eyes flashed with something that looked like regret, but it was gone in an instant.
They had neglected to tell me that she wouldn’t smell like one of us. They’d had somehow failed to pass on that vital piece of information. What else had they forgotten to tell me? “Your brother sent me—”
“Brother? I don’t—”
“Bastian needs you.”
The dish fell from her hands, smashing onto the floor and shattering into shards.
Chapter 2
Astrid
I couldn’t move. I should run, but my feet won’t obey me. They were rooted to the floor as if encased in cement. I’d known this day might come, that I hadn’t run far enough, but I’d wanted to believe that I had found a safe place. Somewhere I could live my life without the shame and disgrace that clung to me tainting every conversation and friendship.
I heard him move and I flung out a hand, begging him to give me time.
When he’d first arrived, I had welcomed the distraction; it wasn’t often men as good looking as him stumbled into my store, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to turn away the eye candy. Or the chance for a little flirting, though I was rusty as hell. But more than anything I was curious. What did he want? Why was he here? People didn’t find my store by accident, only those who needed help or guidance found their way to my door. It was just how it was—I helped people, giving them advice or a glimpse of their future. I might be broken but that I could do.
And then he’d spoken, his voice a deep rumble that had vibrated though me, stirring a fire inside of me that I’d long thought dead.
My heart had stuttered, a glimpse of a dragon flitting through my mind like a ghost. And then she was gone again, as if I had dreamed it all.
And now my brother’s name was on his lips. What use would Bastian have for me? Why would he want me by his side? There’s only one way to find out.… I lifted the iron tight hold on my mind, opening myself up to his thoughts. Bracing myself for the avalanche, the nausea that always overwhelmed me when I heard another shifter’s thoughts, I listened.
Nothing.
A second surge of panic coursed through me. Of all the times for my strange power to fail me.… I pushed harder, for the first time ever trying to read another’s mind.
Nothing.
The man was blank. I couldn’t feel him, couldn’t hear him. He was silent to me. I rocked back on my heels in shock.
> “Astrid…”
I stifled a shiver as his voice wrapped around me, sparking dancing flames. “You’re lying, my brother wants nothing to do with me.” Not after what I’d done to the clan. I spun around to meet his eyes, shoving out with my special power. Still nothing! Letting out the breath I’d been holding, I resisted the urge to stamp my foot with frustration. I was flying blind for the first time in what felt like forever, and I didn’t like it. Maybe if I get closer…
Lines formed between his eyebrows. “What are you doing?”
I took another step forward, the crunch of pottery beneath my feet loud in the quiet room. “Nothing.”
The lines deepened, his lips thinning and broad shoulders tensing.
Need to get closer. The whisper inside my mind made me pause. This man was obviously dangerous. He was a dragon shifter in his prime; excessively tall—as all male dragon shifters tended to be—with bulging hard muscles in all the right places, and he had the dark, brooding look down to a tee. I mean, the guy was dressed all in black, from his jeans to his T-shirt to his clunky black boots. He looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of GQ for bikers, his dark hair a little too long and messy and oh-so-touchable.
And I wanted to get closer? I needed my head examined.
He opened his mouth to speak, but those weren’t the words I needed to hear. Holding up a hand for silence, I took another step, closing the gap between us. “Do you always frown so much?”
His brows lifted a touch. “What—?”
“Are you not happy?”
“I think we’re getting slightly off—”