Dragon Unbroken_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy Romance

by Keira Blackwood

  “There are humans all around,” I said. “Someone would notice a big old dragon.”

  Taylor shook his head. “Cloaking charm. Ariana does it all the time. I even did it, the other night.”

  “Thanks, man.” I tossed my keys back into my room and made for the door.

  As it closed behind me, I heard Quentin say to Taylor, “So do you want to talk to Ariana about this, or shall I?”

  Chapter Five

  Taylor

  Maisie wasn’t at her desk in front of Ariana’s office, but I was pretty sure Ariana was working despite it being a Sunday. Which meant Maisie was probably in the building somewhere. The woman was loyal, and willing to work any hours to support Ariana.

  I was going to propose she get a raise soon.

  Outside of Ariana’s office door, I paused to inhale. Her clear, clean scent infused my nostrils and I pulled it in gratefully.

  She was poetry put to life. She was my heart. She was everything to me. Perhaps more than everything, because the vision I’d had—it had meant something. What it meant, I had no way of knowing. But somehow it was connected to her. I was connected to her.

  I’d been wanting to talk to her about it but hadn’t worked up the nerve. Now, though, I wished I was coming here for any other reason except the news Slade had just shared.

  Because the Allencloths would kill his dad, no doubt about it. Savage motherfuckers. Relentless. And it didn’t sound like Slade cared much for his father, but nobody’s dad should be killed like that.

  Taking another deep breath, I knocked on Ari’s door.

  “Come in.”

  Her dusky, throaty voice did me in every time. Somehow just hearing her speak both calmed me and got me hard.

  That, and her perfect ass, which she was sadly sitting on at the moment. I wondered if I could somehow get her to stand up and turn around.

  “Taylor,” she said, standing up.

  Halfway there.

  Eyeshadow in shades of gray paired with her thick, black lashes drew attention to her big, chocolate eyes. Simple and sleek, her dark hair was pulled back at her nape, exposing her collarbones. The square neck of her cream-colored blouse allowed for the tops of her breasts to show, while her black skirt cinched in on her waist. I stood in awe of her beauty, of her tan skin and full, pink lips. It had been too long since I’d taken a taste.

  Leaving the door open, I came around her desk and gave her a hug. “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hey.” She pressed a kiss to my lips.

  She tasted like apples and cinnamon, and when I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss, her warm tongue stroked against mine. I wanted to turn it into something more, always more, but now wasn’t the time. So I ended the kiss with a soft little smack, then reluctantly released her.

  I looked around her office. A white couch rested near a fireplace on one side of the room. A framed photo sat at a diagonal on her desk, and I stared at the image. I didn’t need to ask her who it was. The hazel-eyed, brown-haired man could be none other than Ariana’s deceased mate, Marc.

  I tried to drum up feelings of jealousy, but I couldn’t. Instead, I felt a kinship with the guy. We both loved the same woman.

  Ariana followed my gaze, but before she could say anything, I said, “I need to talk to you about something...sensitive.”

  “Oh.” Her face fell slightly, like she was expecting bad news. She returned to her desk and waved me to one of the chairs opposite her. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Not sure what she was worried about, I sat down and said, “Something’s going on with Slade’s dad.”

  Her eyebrows rose. I’d surprised her. “Does Slade need time off? Did he leave already?”

  “No, it’s not like that. Or, I don’t know, maybe it is.” I told her what I knew about Slade’s father having something that belonged to the Allencloth pack, and how they’d surely kill him to get it back.

  “I didn’t think Slade was close to his dad,” Ariana said.

  “He’s not, but you know how it would be…”

  “Yeah, just because they aren’t close doesn’t mean Slade wouldn’t care if he died.”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “So, this is interesting.” She tapped her fingers on the surface of her desk. “I just heard from my friend Emily, the daughter of the Allencloth alpha. They need that treasure back—the whole pack depends on it. She wanted to hire Whitesong.”

  I waited, pretty sure I knew where she was going with this.

  “I don’t want to take the job. At all,” Ariana said. “I don’t trust them, and I hate the alpha. But if we take the job, I get to help Emily, and we could retrieve the treasure in a way that wouldn’t harm Slade’s dad.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We could do that.”

  “It’s not ideal for our company. But anything to help Slade.” She stood up, so I did, too.

  “Do you know how fucking brilliant I think you are?” I asked.

  She pursed her lips. “Maybe you should tell me, just in case I don’t.”

  Chuckling, I came around her desk and pulled her into a hug. Her soft curves felt natural against me, like she was built to fit perfectly in my arms. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Hey, you’re doing it, too, partner,” she said.

  Her gaze went to my lips. I couldn’t wait a second more before claiming her mouth in a kiss. She moaned, pressing herself against me. I grabbed her ass, wishing my hand met with bare skin instead of the fabric of her skirt.

  “Am I interrupting something?” a male voice asked from her open door.

  Reluctantly, I let go of Ariana’s ass, but I didn’t set her free of my embrace.

  Ariana’s cheeks were pink with arousal or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell which. Without saying a word, Quentin came around the desk, crowding behind her. He nuzzled her neck, and I could hear the sharp inhale she gave as he found the spot I’d found the other night, the one that made her moan and squirm.

  I kissed her mouth again, pressing my tongue inside while Quentin kissed her neck. Her hands gripped my shoulders hard, like she was afraid to let go. When I pulled back to take a breath, she gasped and pressed her hips to mine.

  Reaching down, I began hiking up the edge of her skirt. I didn’t know where this was going—I didn’t think any of us did—but no fucking way was I able to stop it. Her skin was smooth as silk beneath my palm. Her lips were honey, her scent divine. Quentin caught my eye over Ariana’s shoulder, and I felt the other side of her skirt lifting, as well. We were both doing this.

  “Taylor...Quentin…” she moaned.

  “You okay, baby?” I asked.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

  “Never,” I said, kissing her again while we continued to lift her skirt higher. One touch was heaven, one kiss divine, but to please her was beyond comparison.

  Her phone rang.

  “Ignore it,” Quentin said.

  My thought exactly.

  Ariana’s eyes were half closed. She held on to one of my shoulders with one hand and reached behind her with the other. From Quentin’s groan, I could guess she’d grabbed his cock. I pressed mine more insistently against her, feeling the friction it caused against her belly as she writhed.

  The phone stopped ringing.

  Her skirt was bunched around her waist, and I held the edge of her lacy panties in my fist, ready to tug them down.

  Suddenly, the scent of tiger filled the air. I growled, looking up.

  Maisie stood in the doorway, a fearful—but lustful—expression on her face. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “It’s just...the first interviewee has arrived. Rourke Dunbar. He’s waiting in Conference Room C.”

  Chapter Six

  Ariana

  Taylor and Quentin had left a few minutes ago. The dragon in me rumbled in discontent—I’d wanted to claim both of them, right here in my office, the door wide open for anyone to walk in. But what if, instead of a friend, it had been a client who’d interrupted us?
>
  Delicious lust coursed through my veins, but now it was tempered with anxiety. I had to figure out what this was between me and my partners sooner rather than later. Figure it out and...what? I wouldn’t put a stop to it, even if I could. I was crazy for these guys, and my heart wouldn’t have it any other way.

  There was a knock on the half-opened door. Maisie.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “I brought your tea,” she said, lingering by the door. “But it’s probably cold by now.”

  “Thanks, Maisie.”

  There was no comment about what had happened. I wasn’t ready to talk about it, and she knew me well enough to tell. She came in, handed me the cold cup, and pretended everything was normal.

  “Most of the potential assistants are men,” she said. “But the wolf shifter they’re interviewing tomorrow is my favorite. She has the most experience, forty years of running busy offices. She’s perfect.”

  “Thank you for setting the interviews up,” I said.

  “The desk is in. Jonathan is heading reassembly, so we shouldn’t have any more problems with that.”

  I nodded and took a sip of my tea. Cinnamon and creamy vanilla mingled on my tongue. It was still good cold.

  “And I just texted you Richard Koenig’s number. Taylor mentioned that you might want it.”

  “You’re the best,” I said.

  “I know it.” She winked at me and shut the door behind her when she left.

  It was good to see her out of her funk. I felt a little like we were trading places. I wondered if she’d broken it off with Aaron or if she was just doing better than I was at keeping her personal life out of work. At least one of us had to have our shit together or we’d be screwed.

  I pushed down thoughts of Taylor and Quentin, of the feel of their hands and their mouths, of the hope I’d entertained of fucking them both right here on my desk. There was something more immediate that I had to deal with. Slade.

  A sick feeling lingered in my stomach as I dialed. I hated the thought of Slade hurting. It was far worse than having to deal with wolf shifter and all-around liar Richard Koenig. Sure, he’d probably screw us over, try to steal our percentage or do some other assholeish thing I hadn’t thought of. But it was worth it. Slade was worth it.

  “Hello.” His scratchy deep voice reminded me of everything I detested about him.

  “Hello, Richard,” I said. “It’s Ariana West.”

  “What a pleasant surprise, Ariana,” he said.

  Yeah, right.

  “Emily called about a job,” I said.

  “Yes, we’re looking to recover the Vergoldet Fortune,” he said. “We are very close to bringing it home.”

  “If that’s the case, why do you need Whitesong?” I asked.

  No matter his answer, we were going. Still, I wanted to get everything I could out of him.

  “That’s a good question, dear,” he said.

  I tightened my grip on the phone, but let his condescension go.

  “We narrowed down the location of the cache to a small village nestled deep within the Warzenschwein Mountains. A mercenary has been spotted in the area.”

  “This mercenary—”

  “The worst of the worst,” he said. “And a dragon shifter, so naturally I thought of you.”

  He had to be referring to Slade’s father.

  “Naturally,” I said.

  “He murdered several innocents to take the prize from my men, not to mention four of my strongest enforcers.”

  Could that be true? Had Slade’s father really killed innocents? If his physique was similar to Slade’s, he’d have the strength for it. But it was hard to imagine a man like that being the father of someone so gentle. Then again, what about my mother? She was evidence enough that parent and child could look alike and have nothing in common.

  “If I agree to send in a team, how can you be sure this mercenary won’t flee before we arrive?” I asked.

  “Clearly you’ve never been to the Warzenschwein Mountains,” he said. “Pine trunks grow thick as bears, as tall as skyscrapers. Branches block out the sun. The place is cursed.”

  “Okay,” I said. I hadn’t figured Koenig for a superstitious man.

  “A man with knowledge of living off the grid could stroll into the depths and never be seen again,” he said. “One without those skills is also likely not to be seen again.”

  “So, it’s a big forest,” I said.

  “Bears,” he said. “Warthogs.”

  “Yeah, I get it. But you didn’t answer my question,” I said.

  “My men are watching from afar.”

  “Great,” I said. “And my fee?”

  “Thirty percent of the treasure upon delivery,” Koenig said.

  “So, we’re looking for a treasure that can easily be divided—”

  “You deal with the dragon and I’ll make sure your little charity hobby is funded for the next ten years,” he said.

  I doubted that was true. Still, it had to be us that confronted Slade’s father.

  “Whitesong will take the job,” I said.

  “Perfect,” he said. “I’ll expect you to arrive in Versorgungsstelle by Friday.”

  “We will make arrangements, and arrive as soon as possible,” I said. “You’ll hear from me when we’re in Germany. I expect to be informed if the situation changes.”

  “He’s not leaving the forest,” Koenig said.

  “We’ll speak again soon,” I said. “Thank you for choosing Whitesong Security.”

  I hung up before I had to hear him speak another word.

  It was fortunate timing, with our other obligations coming to a close. It would be possible for Slade, Taylor, Quentin, and me to all go to Germany without neglecting any of our other clients. I knew Quentin and Taylor would be as determined to be there for Slade as I was, and we’d trek through the woods together.

  I grinned to myself, imagining Quentin roughing it in the forest. Would he pack suits? Did he own anything else?

  I took a sip of my chai and imagined curling up by a fire with the three of them. I imagined sharing a tent, sharing a blanket, basking in their body heat. There was no one to walk in if we were alone in the woods.

  All three? How would I even handle that? It was unlikely we could all fit in one tent anyway. Slade was too much of a giant to share a tent no matter how big it was.

  Focus—I needed to focus. There was a lot I needed to do to get this trip planned.

  We’d need flight and hotel arrangements, supplies for living in the forest. Taylor might have hotel suggestions for the night after we landed in Germany. Slade probably knew better than I did what supplies would best suit us in the woods. Whatever camp gear knowledge I had was likely outdated.

  I rose to my feet and had taken two steps toward the door when my phone rang.

  The caller ID read Jacques Marquette Pelletier.

  While we’d worked the Brightwater job, I’d abhorred the man. High-maintenance was a gross understatement. Pelletier was over-the-top, overbearing, and overdramatic. Not to mention, he was a handsy drunk. I’d been sure I’d never speak to him again. But then he handed over that briefcase. He’d overpaid us for the job we’d completed, and he’d gone out of his way to speak praise for Whitesong at every opportunity. We’d had twice the referrals since working that Brightwater auction as we had received from any other client. Working with Pelletier was difficult, but it was also good business.

  “Whitesong Security, this is Ar—”

  “Ariana!” His sharp voice was filled with ridiculous enthusiasm. “Such a pleasure to hear you speak. You’ve been well, I assume. I know I have.”

  “Hello, Mr. Pelletier,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I had the most fabulous dream.”

  I sat on the edge of my desk and waited for him to get to the point. It could take a while.

  His voice took on a breathy quality, like a yoga instructor’s or the speaker on a guided meditation app. “I w
as in the form of a wolf, as majestic as you might imagine. There were unicorns by my side, flying through the dark void of space. But instead of darkness there was a great light, and colorful sparkle.”

  “I apologize,” I said. “But I’m unclear on what that means.”

  “It was me. I was the light.”

  I let my head fall back. Ugh. This man.

  “When I woke, I understood. It was a vision. I’m meant to host a gala themed in the works of Julian Carigillo.”

  I recalled that strange painting from the Brightwater. If I remembered correctly, it looked an awful lot like the dream he’d just described.

  He continued, “Whitesong, of course, will provide security for the event. And I want your boy toy, the one with the hair that falls over his smoldering eyes, the one with the pouty lips.”

  “Taylor?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s him,” Pelletier squealed. “He worked at that horrid museum that has the rest of the Carigillo collection. I need Taylor. He’ll make sure all of the details are perfection.”

  “I can pass along your interest in working with him,” I said. “What are your thoughts on timeline?”

  Last time he had only given two weeks’ notice. I doubted this time would be any more.

  “A week at most,” he said. “It was a vision, Ariana. It must be met with haste.”

  “I understand,” I said, though I did not. Not even a little. “But Whitesong will not be able to commit to—”

  “It has to be you.”

  “We appreciate your endorsement and your enthusiasm,” I said. “We just can’t commit to another client at this time, unless you’d like to work with one of our teams—”

  “Drop the other clients,” Pelletier said. “I’ll triple whatever they’re going to pay. I’ll only accept the best. That’s you and your partners.”

  “We’ll be overseas,” I said. “It’s not about the money.”

  “Everything’s about money,” he said with a snort.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Pelletier,” I said. “We’re already committed to another client. If we happen to return before the end of the month—”