Relic Hunters: BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance (The Complete Trilogy)

by Bianca James

  She hated him.

  The stirring in her belly and the longing between her thighs was all his fault. She was doing just fine before he came along. Perfectly fine.

  All she had to do was go to sleep and pretend he wasn’t even there, three feet from where she lay. She could ignore his quiet, rhythmic breathing. She could try to put the subtle aroma of his after shave out of her mind and sleep like she was all alone, without a guy who looked like he had recently modeled for the cover of GQ Magazine lying alongside her. Okay, maybe not quite alongside. And with the thought of his warm, tight body nestled against her curves, she fell asleep.

  Chapter 13

  She hates me. That’s probably for the best, though. Bryce’s dragon stirred as his inner debate kept him awake and restless. She thinks I’m a thief, some petty crook stealing anything he can get his hands on.

  Again his dragon stirred, more animated this time. Alright, so I am, but I’m not in the way she sees me. She doesn’t understand and I sure can’t tell her. Can I? He wondered how that conversation might go.

  The dragon growled and began to spread its wings. It wanted a mate. It wanted to mate and there she was, right there, only a few feet away. Bryce stopped the shift before it really began, quelling his dragon’s desire. But not his own.

  “What was that?” Saira groaned, half asleep.

  “Nothing. I’m just restless, that’s all. Go back to sleep,” he said in his most soothing and mesmerizing voice.

  He felt himself stirring with desire. He’d been close to her all day. Damn . . . he’d even kissed her. Twice, in fact. He could still taste her as his tongue flicked across her lips before dancing with her tongue like two lovers exploring each other for the first time. Her delicious scent. The aroma of lilac soap and vanilla shampoo he inhaled when he whispered into her ear. The involuntary shudder that gently beset her body when his lips brushed her earlobe. It all came back to him. Sometimes getting shot at was just what you needed to appreciate the good things in life.

  The memories were a little too real. He hardened at the thought of kissing her once again and feeling her soft skin beneath his fingertips as he trailed his hands past her delightful, curvy hips . . .

  How was he going to sleep now? He was as hard as a rock with no relief in sight, well, in sight but not much more than that. He inappropriately recalled the old joke about the difference between a light on and a hard on. You could always sleep with the light on. He didn’t think it was so funny now with an aching erection trapped inside the unyielding body suit he still wore under his stolen clothes.

  She hates me, he reminded himself, hoping to quell the flow of blood that threatened to explode his painful boner.

  It didn’t work.

  Chapter 14

  “My name is Bryce. I’m a 200 year old dragon shifter and it’s been over a thousand years since a member of my clan lost one of the unholy coins entrusted to us after the death of Christ. But I’m trying to make amends.”

  Brilliant. That will really go over well with Miss Science-Pants.

  Bryce woke as the sun rose with his mind in turmoil and his dragon still feeling unsettled and unsatisfied. As he massaged the kinks from his neck thanks to the less than ideal hotel pillow, he tried to come up with a way to bring Saira into his confidence, explain to her that he wasn’t just some random thief but more of a thief with a sense of justice. After all, he only stole relics that rightfully belonged to his clan. That didn’t make him a bad person, did it? And nobody ever got hurt during his heists.

  Maybe if he showed her his crowning glory, his clan’s most precious possession of all she’d change her mind. Who wouldn’t after seeing the stirring image of Jesus calming the Sea of Galilee during a violent storm, saving the lives of fourteen terrified souls? The striking Rembrandt captured the dramatic tension preceding the miracle and a true hallmark of Rembrandt’s mastery of his craft. The Storm on the Sea of Galilee still choked him with emotion each time he looked at it, just as it would have done to his ancestors, centuries past.

  He didn’t even have to break in to the famous Isabella Stewart Gardner gallery, technically speaking. The gallery guards actually let him in and escorted him to the masterpiece. They were only bound and stowed in the basement with implanted memories of thieves disguised as police in order to make the crime, or repossession as he preferred to call it, seem more credible to the authorities and the press. If they started telling stories about a mind controlling thief, they’d either be locked up in a psych ward or convicted as the inside men. The cover story and their temporary imprisonment were for their own good.

  The other twelve works reported as stolen, including two other Rembrandt’s, a Degas, a Vermeer and a Manet were all repatriated to their respective dragon shifter owners. It didn’t hurt to curry favor with other clans. You never knew when you might need something in return. Bryce was all about looking at the big picture and planning ahead.

  His thoughts were so entwined with the magnificence of the painting and his internal debate on whether to risk telling her the truth that he never heard her stir from her bed. Only when her warm soft fingers encircled his neck did he snap out of his daydream.

  “Is that better?” she asked as she massaged his neck and shoulders? “Nothing like a hard night of thievery and running from the cops to give you a sore neck.”

  “Well, to be precise, we were running from an underworld syndicate hell bent on finding any religious relic that might help them rule the world, but yes, I see your point.”

  Bryce groaned in pleasure and frustration as she continued to massage the deep tissue in his shoulders and back, releasing tension, but not in the way he would have liked. The thought of her hands caressing his chest and stomach stirred him in ways that would fast become apparent to even the most casual observer. Then his dragon began to stir within.

  This isn’t good.

  Abruptly, he broke from her touch and proceeded to move his head from side to side. “That feels much better, thanks. I’m hitting the shower. We’ve got work to do today.”

  Saira didn’t know how to take his abrupt departure. She woke to the stark realization that she didn’t hate him at all. She hated the way he made her feel. The vulnerability. The emotional pull he had on her. She didn’t need that, but it was hardly his fault. He couldn’t help being a cultured gentleman with the lean powerful muscles of an Olympic gymnast and the face of a Hollywood star. Maybe he couldn’t help being a thief, either. Perhaps there was more to his story and she was being too unscientific in forming her opinion of him. After all, there were bound to be facts that she didn’t know.

  But the way he recoiled from her touch after a polite amount of time had passed while massaging him told her all she needed to know. He didn’t even want to be touched by her. Somehow, she wasn’t of any use to him any longer. He was done pretending.

  Bastard. He was just a typical man after all.

  Chapter 15

  Blood seeped through the bandages as his tortured hands struggled to grip the Volvo’s steering wheel. The professor hunched forward and squinted against the rising sun to double check the GPS. It was true. The red dot had stopped moving. He had them in his sights and the M40 Motorway was flowing well, so he expected to be right on top of them within the hour. Driving through the night, he had ample time to reflect on what their objective might be but he couldn’t come to any firm conclusion. Even knowing they had stopped in Oxford offered little clue, but he was pleased to see them on his home turf. That gave him an advantage, even though he knew that Saira had also studied there. But he had been an Oxford man most of his adult life.

  There was nowhere they could hide. Nobody they could turn to for help as Saira’s small circle of acquaintances was well known to him, as was most of the academia who inhabited the city. Soon he would have the coin in his possession.

  A malicious sneer formed on his thin lips as he gave himself a mental pat on the back for his genius in having The Circle fund the donation of the X
RF Spectrometer to the museum. He surprised himself with his brilliance and foresight, knowing that one of the first things they would do would be feed the legendary Hoxne Hoard through its gaping mouth in an effort to work out how such a random collection of ancient Roman coins had come to be buried together.

  Genius. Sheer genius.

  What he hadn’t counted on was Saira to be working late at night. Had the girl no life outside of her dull, routine job in the museum’s underground lab? To her credit, though, she had identified the coin for him and that would have saved him hours of work trying to find it himself. But then he came along and his well laid plans turned to crap. He subconsciously raised one bloody and bandaged hand to his nose where he had taken the brunt of the stranger’s hammer fist to the face. The shattered cartilage crackled beneath his fingertips and pain blurred his vision. It was broken for sure and would need to be reset. If he lived long enough.

  You’ll pay for that, too! Both of you!

  An hour later, Blane was parked outside the historic Eagle and Child pub. A popular tourist destination for those interested in exploring the various meeting places of the famous Oxford authors such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, it didn’t seem a very fitting hideout for a super spy and his geeky archaeologist companion. No, something was wrong with this picture. Very wrong, indeed.

  Blane reached across and opened the glove compartment. He was going to get some answers.

  Chapter 16

  Over a hearty English breakfast of fried eggs, sausages, baked beans and crispy bacon washed down with a cup of English Breakfast tea, they discussed their next move. At least they tried to. The trim young waitress seemed to hover an awful lot, paying particular attention to Bryce’s needs and refilling his cup each time he took a sip, or so it seemed.

  And that’s why I won’t get involved with anyone again, especially someone like him.

  Even starring daggers at the waitress had no effect which annoyed Saira. What annoyed her even more though, was the fact that she even cared. So what if every waitress in the tea room fawned over him? What did she even care and why was she letting herself get worked up about it? He was nothing to her and she’d be rid of him as soon as they sorted out the whole Lance of Christ and Judas coin business.

  He was so infuriating. How could he make her feel that way?

  She hated him.

  Draining the last of her tea, Saira returned the floral cup to its saucer and stood. “Let’s get out of here.” Bryce stared at her, mouth agape with a fork full of bacon and toast inches from his mouth.

  “I thought you said we had work to do?” Saira stared right back at him.

  The glow of the monitor limned Saira’s face. Her fingers danced across the keyboard interrupting their rhythmic clatter only long enough to click the mouse from time to time. Her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in concentration, her eyes darted all over the screen. Bryce was seeing a different side of his partner in crime now. Her inner geek was in full flight, barely aware that he was looking over her shoulder as they huddled in a booth at the Café Surf.

  “Okay, I’m in,” she whispered to herself. Talking to yourself becomes a habit when you’ve spent too much time on your own.

  “And?” Bryce prompted.

  Saira shot him a glance of annoyance. She wasn’t used to being watched over while she worked or questioned every step of the way. She held one hand to silence him as she continued tapping at the keyboard with the other.

  “Alright,” she finally acknowledged, “I’ve logged into my museum email account and there’s no mention of any major antiquities thefts in the past 3 months, least of all the lance. It’s still there. But why wouldn’t they have taken it already? That’s what I can’t figure out. Given their resources and ruthlessness, it’s a fairly soft target for these guys.”

  “They don’t want to tip their hand, I’m guessing,” Bryce responded, stroking his chin as he thought it through.

  Saira couldn’t help but watch his hands play across the dusting of stubble that had sprouted overnight. It made him look even more ‘Hollywood’ and delicious. If that were even possible. There was something unique about him. Smooth and sophisticated yet wild and untamed all at the same time.

  “So how many of the coins do they have?”

  “None as far as I know. This one is the only one not accounted for. The other twenty nine are all with the clan . . . families they were entrusted to originally. This one,” he felt the pouch that nested firmly between his hard pecs, “is the only one that was lost during the past two thousand years.”

  “So they’ve been at this for centuries and are still coming up empty handed?”

  Bryce shook his head. “No, the thirty pieces of silver aren’t their only objective. Basically, any artifact, religious or otherwise believed to possess supernatural power is on their radar. They’re searching for the Holy Grail, the Ark of the Covenant and there have been rumors that they’ve even looked for the gold capstones of the Pyramids of Giza from time to time throughout the ages.”

  “Something’s been bugging me for a while now . . .” Saira licked her lips before continuing. “You mentioned that the coins were divided up and given to thirty individuals of families for safe keeping and sent to different parts of the world to keep them apart. I’ve got a feeling there’s more to these families than you’re telling me. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Damn! I wish she’d stop doing that with her tongue. I’m not ready for show and tell. But . . .

  “You’re right.” I bet she hears that an awful lot. “There’s more to the story, but it’s been a tightly held secret for many generations. All of the clans responsible for the coins have one thing in common and special powers to ensure the coins are kept safe and apart.

  “Legend has it that one of my ancestors, Terryn let his love for a woman known as Ryia, put the safekeeping of the coin at risk. They both died in battle as he tried to escape with her to France, but not before he hid his entrusted coin among other treasures and buried it in the hope it would never be found.”

  “I guess he never foresaw the invention of the metal detector,” Saira offered. “If Eric Lawes hadn’t gone looking for a farmers hammer with his metal detector, the coin and the treasure might have remained buried forever.” Saira smiled with compassion and understanding.

  Bryce loved that smile. He could look at it all day long. “I think that’s exactly what he hoped would happen by burying it in what then would have been the middle of nowhere.”

  “Did you know the farmer and Eric split nearly two million pounds for the find? How much do you think The Circle would have paid for it?”

  “A bullet in the eye for both of them, I would have thought. They’d much rather kill than pay, it would seem, as they don’t like loose ends. I think they learned of the legend of Terryn and Ryia and came up with a plan to steal the coin, just as I did. We were probably both waiting for the spectrometer to identify the coin so the theft could remain under the radar. After all, one coin among thousands isn’t exactly front page news, is it?”

  “So were you the mysterious benefactor of the new spectrometer? It’s donation to my department wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

  “No. That was the circle. Typical of their ‘use a hammer to break an egg’ philosophy. I had my own way of identifying the coin. I didn’t need the XRF machine.”

  “How?” Something about the look in his eyes made her almost afraid to ask.

  Bryce said nothing. In answer, he reached inside his suit and withdrew the special pouch he had made to keep the coin and those around it safe. He held out his open palm and tipped the coin from the purse into his hand.

  “Holy shit!” Saira looked at the coin, her eyes wide with equal parts fascination and disbelief with just a hint of fear.

  The coin glowed eerily as it touched Bryce’s skin. But the mystic power didn’t stop there. As the coin continued to glow brighter reaching an almost blinding intensity, it levitated, like a magic
trick. But this was no cheap sideshow illusion. The coin continued to burn brightly as it began to spin on its axis inches above Bryce’s outstretched hand.

  “Like I said, those entrusted with the safekeeping of the coins are kind of special. We don’t need your fancy science to identify the coins. We have our own special and very unique connection with the coins. The Circle hasn’t any idea about that and we hope they never find out.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then they’d start identifying us and hunting us down one by one to get the coins. That wouldn’t be a good thing, trust me.”

  Chapter 17

  Grabbing something that looked like a small version of an airport security metal detector, Blane slammed the glove compartment shut and retrieved his smartphone from the center console. Suitably armed, he alighted from the unassuming Volvo and made his way toward the pub. The smartphone app confirmed what his GPS had already told him — his quarry or at least the mangy cat that had been with them, was inside. Again his instincts warned him something was amiss. There was only one way to find out.

  Adjusting his ankle holster to ensure that his backup weapon was easily accessible if needed, Blane leaned against the large waste bin in the alleyway behind the pub. The stink of the rotting garbage made him gag as he took a deep breath, ready to make his way through the back door.

  With his smartphone in one hand and the other device in the other, he entered the building covertly, his ears attuned to the sounds of food preparation in the kitchen and kegs being manhandled in the cellar. So long as they all went about their business, he was free to get on with his. He glanced at the smartphone once more and confirmed that the dot had not moved as he carefully made his way down the cramped and historic corridor toward the main bar. The mouthwatering aroma of scampi and sausages being cooked made Blane’s stomach rumble. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had stopped for food.