by Dena Christy
Andor
Dena Christy
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
NewsLetter Signup
Also by Dena Christy
Copyright © 2017 by Dena Christy
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover art by Melody Simmons
1
“You will never find a mate if you don’t leave the house.”
Andor Domokos lowered his newspaper with the ease of someone with all the time in the world. Six hundred years he had been asleep, and the quality of minion had not improved in that time. His eyes narrowed, and he used them to communicate his displeasure. Satisfied that he had shown his disapproval of Rickman’s attitude, he directed his attention back to the news.
“Don’t look at me like that. Under normal circumstances, I’d tell you to do what you want and if you want to mope around here and pout, go ahead. But I like being alive, and if you don’t find a mate soon, I’ll get killed when you go crazy.”
Andor sighed, folded his newspaper and set it aside. “How do you know you will survive the end of the week? I do not have to be insane to kill you.”
“You can’t kill me. You need me.”
Andor’s mouth twisted in irritation. Unfortunately, his minion was correct, he did need him. How galling to need someone who did not appear to have any sense. What sensible young man chose to have blue hair?
“I can kill you anytime I like. You should give me the respect I deserve. Are you certain you are a qualified minion, Rickman?” The corner of Andor’s mouth twitched as he watched Rickman’s reaction to his tiny barb with amusement. A creeping flush made its way up the young man’s face, and Andor kept the smile that wanted to stretch his lips at bay.
“How many times do I have to tell you, my name is Rick.” Rickman glared at him as he informed Andor of his preferred name.
Andor picked up his paper and used it to hide his face. It was so easy to rile him, and he should not be doing it. As a dragon, it was beneath his dignity, but Rickman’s lack of humility made Andor grind his teeth.
“I do not think it is. I saw the piece of paper that has the details of your birth on it, and I recall the name on it is Rickman.”
Rickman let out a frustrated noise. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You are trying to distract me from your issue. We need to come up with a game plan for finding you a mate.”
Andor set the newspaper aside on the kitchen table for the final time.
He crossed his arms as he gave Rickman a sour look. They had tried things his way, but his minion seemed to believe human women were available at places where they performed on stage and took their clothes off.
As if he wanted a woman who gyrated professionally to a horrendous cacophony. If that was not enough, their bodies were odd looking. Their ribs showed more often than not, but their breasts were large, perfectly round and did not jiggle. He was old fashioned and appreciated a good jiggle.
“I told you before that I will go nowhere with you if it involves those appalling places you want to frequent. How could you believe that I want a mate who takes her clothes off for money?”
“Dragons like treasure?” Rickman shrugged his shoulders as the metal ring in his nose winked in the light coming in through the window. Blue hair and metal in his face. Fashion had taken a turn for the worse while he had slept, and his minion’s taste was the proof of it.
“Green pieces of paper are not treasure.” Treasure glittered and sparkled. The glint of gold, the twinkle of gems, that was what he adored above all else. The green pieces of paper worshiped in this time seemed so mundane. Easier to obtain too, if a dancing woman could get enraptured men to tuck cash in the bits of fabric hiding her most private treasure.
“I will admit that the strippers weren’t a good idea. I don't know your type. And a strip club caters to different tastes. Did you find any woman that intrigued you?”
“None of those women were attractive to me.” The notion that his potential mate’s nude body had been seen by hordes of men sent deep disgust through him.
Rickman had informed him that virginal women of mating age were rare in this time. It forced him to lower his expectations, but he was not prepared to compromise that much. While his mate need not be a virgin, he did not want one who entertained untold numbers of men in the so-called Champagne Room. He did not know what they did in there, but based on the expression on Rickman’s face after he had come out of it once, it involved a sex act.
“None of them? Not even one or two?” Rickman chewed his bottom lip, his teeth missing the metal ring he had in it. How could he kiss a woman or use his mouth on anything else with that metal ring hanging from it? “You aren’t gay, are you? I never thought to ask. It’s not a bad thing if you are, but it would change the direction of our search.”
“I fail to see the relevance my happiness has on our search, but I assure you that I have not been happy with our mate hunt thus far.”
“Not happy gay, gay gay. As in preferring the sexual company of men.”
“I am attracted to females.” There were some men back in his time whose preferences ran along those lines, but they did not broadcast it. “What I am not attracted to are women who shake their breasts and buttocks for a living. Where can I meet a wholesome woman?”
“I’m not the one to get you an invitation to a church social. How did you meet ladies before?”
“It will not be possible to do it that way.” If only it were that easy. Andor heaved a heavy sigh as he scrubbed his hand over his face and some of his frustration came out. “We used to take whoever we wanted and all it took was one dragon to ruin that for us.”
“Did you talk to her at all, or did you just grab? It doesn’t seem like a good deal for her if she wasn’t allowed to have an opinion on the matter.”
Andor looked at Rickman for a moment as his eyebrows climbed his forehead. This was a man who watched women dance naked for money. Did he think they had a much better deal than the women chosen to be a dragon’s mate? A dragon’s mate received lavish treasure and was protected for the duration of her life. Back in a time when one bad harvest meant starvation, most women jumped at the chance to be taken care of by a dragon.
“It does not matter now. I am cursed and have to find a woman who can love a dragon.”
"Who did it? Who brought the curse on you? There was no mention of him anywhere in the archives.” Rickman leaned forward, his face one of rapt attention. The usual cocky sneer he wore had fallen away, and there was open curiosity on his face. Perhaps he would become worthy of being a dragon’s minion.
“I am sure your ancestors did not feel it necessary to put his name in the archive since he is sleeping downstairs.”
Rickman’s mouth fell open. “The dragon responsible for bringing the curse down on dragon kind is one of your brothers? Which one?”
“Gregor.” Disgust tasted bitter on Andor’s tongue when he spoke
his brother’s name. Gregor stole the daughter of a witch. One unwilling to stay with him and she died trying to escape. The witch cursed all dragons in her grief over her dead child. Gregor had received a special punishment. The witch had used magic to turn the clock back on his brother’s mating time. She had forced him into the same dilemma as the rest of them. “It is all in the past and does not solve my current problem. My mating time is upon me now. I need to find a woman willing to love me by the third night of the Hunter’s Moon. Otherwise, everyone around me will perish in the furnace of dragon’s fire.”
He had no desire to kill anyone, but he would not be able to stop it. He would never admit it to Rickman, but he could feel the faint tickling of panic at the thought of how little time he had to find a woman who could love a dragon.
“Well, we can't waste any more time. Strippers are out of the question?”
“Yes. How do people meet in this time? When I meet her, she will fall in love with me.” He had supreme confidence that the biggest obstacle in his way was finding her. Once he did, she would be his for the taking and his curse would be lifted.
“You think it’s that easy? Just meet her and she’ll fall in love with you at first sight?”
“I am a dragon. What woman would not want to be with me?” He was not given to ego and immodesty, but he had untold riches at his disposal and could give her whatever she desired.
“Telling a woman you're a dragon won't work. Perhaps you should keep that little tidbit of information to yourself? People don’t believe in dragons anymore, so telling a woman you are one won’t get you a mate. It would get you locked up, which could be another potential venue to meet women I suppose.” A brief look of speculation crossed Rickman’s face before he shook his head.
Andor curled his upper lip as his frustration got the better of him. He could not tell a woman that he was a dragon upon meeting her? How would she know that he had access to riches beyond her imagination? How could he convince her to be his mate if she did not know he could keep her in style?
“What am I supposed to do if I cannot reveal to her right away that I am a dragon? She needs to know what a privilege it is to be with me.”
“You could start by not telling her that it’s a privilege to be with you. Once you find her, you must get to know her and let her know you. Get her to fall in love with who you are, not what you can give her. It’s how the rest of us do it.”
That could not be right. Andor rubbed his hand over his chin as he tried to push past his confusion. If it was like Rickman said, why did he have women show him their breasts for money? Why did he not have a woman of his own?
“How am I supposed to get her to like me?” Being a dragon was what he was, and now he could not reveal it until he was sure of her? If she was supposed to love him for who he was, how could she when he had to keep the biggest part of himself a secret?
“I wish I knew. I’ll try to find somewhere you can meet wholesome women, but the rest is up to you.”
Lyssa Davidson dug her fingers into the edges of her seat as her best friend, Portia, pulled into the fairgrounds’ parking lot. She blew out a slow breath and forced her fingers to uncurl as she fought her rising anxiety.
“I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to do this.” Surely Portia would see reason and understand why she couldn’t do this. She could hardly breathe and getting out of the car would only steal her breath further. As soon as Portia had picked her up this afternoon, dread had squeezed her lungs in an ever tightening band. No matter how much she tried to relax, the band wouldn’t loosen.
“You haven’t left your house for weeks now. You need to get out and have some fun before you turn into one of those shut in types. You know, the ones they find dead surrounded by a dozen cats.”
That was a horrible exaggeration. She left the house. It was only to go to work, but she got out five days a week. She liked spending her weekends at home. It was safe at home.
“Maybe I had other plans. Did you think of that?” Lyssa folded her arms across her overflowing bosom. The corset and white off the shoulder blouse combo she wore did little to minimize her abundant bust line. The corset probably contributed to the breathing problems too.
Laundry and a Netflix binge were the extent of her weekend plans, but Portia didn’t know that. The last thing she wanted to do was dress up like Slutty the Tavern Wench at a Renaissance fair. Kevin could have followed them and might be watching her even as she and Portia debated here in the car.
“You didn’t have any other plans and you know it. It’s your duty as my best friend to come to this with me.” Portia undid her seatbelt and opened her car door. She gathered the long green skirt of her dress as she got out. Lyssa stayed where she was, safe and anonymous inside the car. A glance out the window showed no sign of Kevin, but that didn’t mean anything. Unease tightened the muscles in her shoulders. He could have followed them if he’d been watching her house like she suspected.
Portia opened Lyssa’s door and motioned for her to leave the car. Lyssa stayed where she was, with her seat belt snug across her body. If Portia wanted her out of the car, she would have to drag her out.
“This will be fun. I’m worried about you. Ever since you broke up with Kevin, you’ve been hiding. It’s not healthy. You deserve a little fun, and I have no one else to do this with me. I’ve been looking forward to it for months. Come on, we’ll have fun, buy some useless trinkets and watch a joust.”
Lyssa looked up at her, and the plea on her friend's face did its intended work. How was she supposed to argue with the puppy dog look in her eyes? She’d either have to suck it up and get out of the car, or go on a guilt trip for the next week. Portia had been her friend for over a decade, and she should have known that she wouldn’t let her mope around the house for long.
She sighed as she undid the seatbelt, swung her legs around and got out of the car. The thin leather shoes Portia insisted she wear to lend authenticity didn’t stop the gravel under her feet from biting.
“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” She took a quick glance around the parking lot. The one person she dreaded seeing was not there. Maybe he’d gotten over the break up? She’d heard little from him after the first few harrowing weeks following her dumping him. Had he finally realized that she was not getting back together with him?
“It’s a public fair and out in the open. Kevin won’t try anything as long as you are here. Besides, that crazy loser will have to go through me before he can touch you.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Lyssa’s face, and she appreciated Portia thinking she could protect her. Kevin was a six foot tall gym rat, and Portia with her curvy five foot four frame wouldn’t be able to do much to stop him.
“Perhaps we should get you a sword while we’re here.” Lyssa shut the car door and pulled her shoulders back. Kevin couldn’t dictate what she did any more. Portia was right, this was a public place and he’d be stupid to approach her here. He’d taken to standing under a tree outside her house, calling her at all hours of the night and following her around town. In those instances she’d always been alone. Perhaps a crowd would keep him at bay.
“I won’t need a sword. You have a restraining order.” Portia linked her arm through Lyssa’s as she pressed her key fob and the car’s locks engaged with a double beep.
Lyssa didn’t want to tell her that a restraining order only had power if Kevin abided by it. The police could charge him if he came near her, but the order wasn’t a magical forcefield that would keep Kevin away if he was determined to approach her. Her mother had been proof of the flimsy protection a piece of paper offered against a determined, violent man.
Portia squeezed her arm and Lyssa looked over at her. She pushed a smile onto her face as she forced thoughts of her mother aside. She was here to have fun, not take a trip through her most painful memories.
It was a beautiful day, and fresh air skated across her skin and stirred her hair. Lyssa felt some of her tension ease out of he
r shoulders and she breathed easier. She would never admit it out loud, but the walls of her home were getting a little claustrophobic. She couldn’t hide forever, and moving on with her life was the best thing she could do for herself.
Lyssa scanned the crowd of colorfully dressed people and didn’t feel as out of place as she thought she would. There were several tavern wenches mingling in the crowd along with ladies dressed similar to Portia.
“You’ve been to one of these before. What do you want to do?”
“We are going to the fortune teller.” Portia took her by the arm and dragged her across the fairground.
They waded through the crowd until they came to a lightly wooded area on the fringes of the fairgrounds. A brightly painted wooden caravan stood in a circular spot in the woods. The area looked like Transylvania from a few centuries ago, at least, that’s how Lyssa imagined it.
She paused and pulled Portia to a halt. No one else was around, and silence hung in the air around them. A chill dragged itself up her spine and she shivered. There were too many places to hide from view, and the muscles in her shoulders stiffened.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea. Is there somewhere else you want to go?”
“It'll be fun. Don’t you want to know your future?” Portia guided her over to the caravan and Lyssa spotted a fortune teller's sign hanging by the door.
“Not if it’s going to cost me twenty bucks.” There was no way she was going to waste that much money on a bunch of nonsense. And she didn’t need her fortune told if it meant being away from the safety of the crowd.
Portia rummaged through the pouch hanging from her belt, and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. “You’re getting your fortune told. It’s my treat. Make sure you tell me everything she says.”
“Aren’t you getting one done?” Lyssa knew better than to argue and took the money. It took some willpower not to crumple it into a sweaty ball.
“Not today. I had mine done last week, and it’s better to wait between readings. Go on.” Portia waved her hand toward the caravan but Lyssa did not move forward. This was a stupid waste of time and it wasn’t worth risking being out of public view. “I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come out, so get a move on. Don’t make me push you.”