by Ella Hart
Fear of Dragon’s Fire
Dragon Shifters Motorcycle Club Series Book 1
By:
Ella Hart
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Copyright © 2020 by Ella Hart
All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Prologue
You’d think I would be able to forget him. After all, it was so brief. There are plenty of other guys out there.
But, I can’t stop thinking about his eyes staring into mine. As if I was precious and beautiful for being what I am.
I can’t stop thinking about how his bare skin felt on mine. The blush of the burn from his touch, even when we clasped hands.
The big problem is that I can’t stop thinking about either of them.
Blake had been the king of my heart since we were little kids, playing fairy tales in the woods together. He liked to play the beast and tell me to run, and then I’d climb up into a tree and hide from him. I was the better climber, more fearless of heights.
When he saw me way up in the tree, his character changed. He would be Prince Charming, graciously coming to rescue me, and I’d climb down to him. We didn’t really know what should happen in the game after that, so we usually went off to try to catch frogs.
Blake was wholesome all-Midwestern honey, with golden-blond hair and deep-brown eyes. He grew up from a mischievous little kid, with a lot of phobias, into a great man with a lot of integrity. I grew up right alongside him, but despite a quick stint as boyfriend and girlfriend in middle school, it took me I went away to college to see him for what he really was.
He was the most beautiful heart I’d ever known. The whole time I was at college I couldn’t stop thinking about that noble heart. It’s as if he was unbroken and unbreakable. I didn’t know how to feel like that.
At least, I didn’t know until I met the other one. The one who’s very name – very memory – makes my blood heat up until it sears me. Who brings the fire of a blush into my cheeks and whose name still leaves my lips in little moans at night, when I’m not focused on forgetting.
I couldn’t forget either of them – which made it impossible to stay.
Chapter One
I came back to town, supposedly there for a summer internship (with Blake’s dad, no less, working on aerodynamics in the mountains) after my junior year. Mom showed her happiness at seeing me back from school in her usual way. She hugged me tightly for a super-long time, long enough for my dad to be like, “Okay Stella, you’ve got to let her go now, so she can go unpack.”
Then she held me out at arm’s length, and said in a concerned and angry tone, “How is it that a girl can look both as if she’s not eating and as if she’s gained weight?”
I pushed away as gently as I could. “Thanks Mom,” I said as my dad winced behind her, “I’ll make sure to jot that one down for my therapist.”
Mom said, “What? Are we paying for a therapist, now? We’re already paying for school.”
I tried to move upstairs with my bags as quickly as I could. Blake was waiting for me at the park. We’d decided to be dumb and cute and meet up at the local playground, even though we were both well over the age for that to be reasonable.
It had been almost two years since we’d seen each other. Two years of near-constant, but friendly, texting. Of an unbreakable friendship.
I was exhilarated. I was determined to tear that friendship wide open, by flinging myself at him if I had to.
I had to know. I had to stop being scared of how I felt about him.
Dad was responding to Mom, saying, “I think she means she’s going to need a therapist after you called her skinny-fat.”
I shouted back from the upstairs landing, not able to resist a retort, “The kids call it slim-thicc nowadays.”
Dad shouted back, “I have no idea what that means!” Then his conversation turned into muffled whispering with Mom. I guessed they were arguing about something.
I couldn’t care less. I was twenty-two years old, and I’d finally realized that my best friend was the love of my life. After I graduated, we could move into our own little cabin in the mountains and ignore our crazy parents for good. Well, my crazy parents. His mom was just overly-nice, always calling me sweetie and trying to make dinner for us. His dad had got me my internship, so I couldn’t complain about him.
I grabbed my purse, ready to run back down the stairs. I was absolutely giddy and, since I’d already caught up with my parents on our way back from Missoula International Airport, I felt I could run out the door without wasting much more time.
The part of me with some sanity and decorum checked the mirror. After all, I’d just gotten off an airplane. That was not a commonly sexy-making travail.
Yes, it was a good call to check the mirror. My hairdo was a lopsided ponytail that had gone from charmingly messy to “Oh no, she needs help.” I yanked the hair tie out and tried to fluff up and then smooth down my hair into something reasonable.
That’s when my fingers grazed it. A hardened patch of skin on my scalp. I stood very still in front of the mirror, hoping it was just dandruff.
I had no idea what it could be. I’d had dandruff before, but this was, well ... scalier. Thicker, as if it was weighty, even though it was only a small patch on the top of my head.
My heart beat faster. In my nervousness about it, it felt as if it was spreading, as I rubbed it. My hair felt thinner in that spot.
I was appalled by it, but not sure what I could possibly do. I snatched my hand away from my head as if it was a burning flame. Whatever it was, it could wait until after my maybe-date with Blake. Plus, as soon as I told my mom I had some weird sort of scalp thing going on, she’d trundle me off to a hospital, no questions asked, to get it x-rayed, inspected, removed, and donated to science. She was efficient like that.
I couldn’t wait another second. I rushed down the stairs and faced the parent gauntlet.
They both looked deathly serious as I zoomed past them. I gave them each a quick kiss on the head, but they looked so grave and angry with each other that I stopped my anxious rush.
I said, “What gives? I told you I’d be meeting up with Blake tonight. I’ll hang out with you guys all day tomorrow, I swear. It’s just the only night that Blake won’t be working.”
Blake was a nurse in a children’s ward, because he’s the best person ever and he’s amazing with kids. Just thinking about how easily he got along with babies and young kids, even teenagers, made my uterus start applauding.
Dad seemed to make an effort to calm down, but clearly he and mom had been having one of their fights. Mom looked as if she wanted to scream at him.
“We don’t have any problem with you going to hang out with Blake,” he said, “We just want to talk to you first, Katherine.”
I inched toward the door. “Wow, Katherine? My full name? This sounds serious.”
Mom snapped, “Let’s try to minimize the sass here, Kat. Your father needs to tell you something important.”
She was clearly sloughing off the responsibility onto dad. I directed the full for
ce of my whining child voice at him.
“But Dad, I’m going to be late. I know whatever you have to say is really important, and I want to make sure I give it my complete attention and lots of thought. But, I can’t really do that right now, with Blake waiting. You always said, a person is as good as their word, and I promised I’d be at the park in like, five minutes.”
It worked, as it always did. As soon as Mom ceded the floor to Dad, their battle was lost.
He turned to Mom. “I guess she’s right,” he said, “It can keep until she gets back, and then we’ll have more time to talk about it.”
Mom fumed, but she also looked weirdly relieved.
I got out of there as soon as I could. They’re weird sometimes, but today was extra weird, and I could not let it wreck my vibe.
I was going to tell my best friend I loved him. Finally.
Just like a fairy tale.
Chapter Two
When Blake walked up, my voice caught in my throat. He looked so masculine and yet so gentle, his broad shoulders and strong chest filling out his soft, blue sweater.
Over the last two years, while we hadn’t seen each other, I’d been so worried and imagined that when I finally saw him again, all the magic would have evaporated. But he was, if anything, taller and hotter than I recalled, with even better, softer, fluffier and more golden hair. He’d grown a beard, which I didn’t hate, and his eyes were just as enchanting as I remembered.
This was worse. When he walked up, he waved to me with a wide open grin, and I literally croaked like a schoolgirl as I said, “Hi!” back.
I didn’t move from my swing. I didn’t know how to approach him. In my head he’d already turned into my lover many, many times, but in real life he was some guy I had known since I was a kid.
How do you act in a situation like that? For all my brave self-talk on the plane ride, I was paralyzed by fear.
He stuck a large hand through his belt loop as he leaned back and smiled at me. All of his clothes hung off his meaty frame perfectly. I wanted to ask if he’d turned into a muscled meathead since I’d left, but I didn’t want him to know I’d been staring.
“Thanks for coming to hang out,” he said in the pleasing, clear voice that I knew had sung choir all through high school. “I know you must be tired from the plane ride.”
I had to say something. I tried to tell myself to be playful, like I was when we were still just friends, and as he probably thought I would be now.
Instead, I said snarkily, “Well, try to be interesting enough for me to stay awake.”
He looked a little taken aback for a second, as if he was hoping for something else. I sure as hell wished I’d said almost anything but that.
But, bless his heart, he recovered fast, and sat down in the swing next to me. He pretended to ponder, “Hmm. What could I talk about that’s more interesting than your and my dad’s research? Oh, yes, literally anything.”
Now I really thanked God for him. This gave me an excuse to laugh, at least a little, and released some of my tension. I pushed off the ground and called him a jerk, and we started swinging and catching up.
I could barely think, my head was in such an anxious flurry, so all of my responses were trite. It was worse than all the bad first dates I’d ever had. Even a morning after a one-night stand wasn’t as bad as this. At least then you could be like, “Get out of my dorm room.” I couldn’t very well order him out of my life. Not when I wanted him to be more deeply wrapped up in it.
We meandered conversationally through our lives for a bit, sharing small snippets and trying to find jokes or stories, as we usually were able to do over texts. But it was as if everything had dried in person.
I was panicking. I wanted to look at him so badly, it was hard to think.
He was straining for something to talk about, too, I could tell. He kept looking at me and looking at me and waiting for something to happen. I just couldn’t figure out the right thing to say.
That’s why I was almost glad when a thundering roar kicked up out of the woods around us, blasting down the street. A motorcycle club had burst from the trees and crossed the playground, causing me to scream and tuck my legs up under me on the swing, and Blake to jump up and shout at them.
He called them crazy jerks, but they just hooted and kept going, right onto the road, faster than I’d ever gone in my life. I didn’t drive, I pretty much only Uber-ed places, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually driven on a highway.
Their breakneck speed was horrifying, but after I had finished screaming, I tried to catch a glimpse of their faces as they zoomed by. One of the riders tried to look at me as well, turning toward me with his helmet blocking his face.
I guess it distracted him, because he lost control of his bike as he hit the edge of the playground. It flipped up and he fell off and rolled on the sidewalk. The bike screeched across the sidewalk.
I thought for sure he was dead. My mouth tasted like blood and my heart beat shot up, like it usually does when I’m scared.
Blake ran right over to him. He leaned down and gingerly flipped up the visor of the biker, probably to see the extent of the damage. After a moment, he jumped up in shock, and then took a couple of steps back. As the biker miraculously rolled over onto his side and stood up, Blake stomped back over to me.
The biker stood on the other side of the playground from the swings, with his helmet under his arm. His leather jacket and black skinny jeans stuck to his lean form. He looked like a dancer, maybe, or an acrobat. Someone with some muscles, but who was more focused on grace than girth.
He had black hair and dark-brown skin, with a smooth, innocent face that held a grin that was anything but innocent. He looked as if he’d just played a fun practical joke on us.
As Blake stormed back over to me, biker guy had the audacity to wink at me, and then he grabbed his bike. He lifted it up with no trouble, even though I could tell it was heavy duty machinery.
As he righted his bike, I caught a glimpse of his jacket insignia, even though he was a long way off. It looked like a snake, maybe? Or a sparkly red dragon.
Blake was standing next to me by the swings, waiting for the guy to go. He blew us a kiss before getting on his bike. I wasn’t 100% sure who it was meant for, and then he drove away. He didn’t gear up slowly, either. He was off like a cannon, following his disappeared pack down the road.
Blake looked pissed off. I pointed that out, not sure what the guy could have done to make him so angry.
Blake told me, “When I opened his visor, he had his lips puckered up. I thought it was a weird trauma thing, so I ignored it. I checked him for a pulse, and then he whispered that only true love’s first kiss could break the spell. He was fine the whole time. What an asshole.”
I thought that was hilarious, but judging from Blake’s face, I didn’t dare laugh. I just looked off down the road and wondered where the motorcycles were headed to.
Chapter Three
We walked back to my house in a stifling and awkward silence. The brief encounter with the biker gang had washed away whatever good mood Blake was in. I wasn’t in any place to cheer him up.
My heart was freaking out. It got so the pounding in my chest was drowning out my shouting thoughts. Time was running out! When was I going to ask him out? I felt like such a coward, as every step took me farther and farther away from my perfect chance.
I saw the old creaking, lopsided stop sign that stood at the end of my street. My hands started to itch, and I rubbed at them viciously, just for something to do besides curse the day I was born a coward.
My hands actually felt horrible. The itch felt much worse than any itch I’d ever had before. We were almost back to my place, where he would say goodbye, and then we’d hardly see each other over the summer.
I saw my house. It was now or never. I took a deep breath and looked down.
My hands looked nothing like they usually did. Instead, I had monstrous, gnarled lumps of discolore
d skin that ended with, not fingernails, but ...claws?
What the hell was happening? I screamed.
Blake whipped around toward me, and I had the presence of mind, thank God, to cross my arms to hide my disturbing hands.
I must’ve looked very petulant, because Blake shook his head. However, instead of telling me to chill out, he said, “I know – those asshole bikers at the park have me all jumpy, too. If I ever see that guy again I’ll give him the knock on the head the asphalt didn’t.”
This was wrong. This was all wrong. I stopped walking.
He stopped and looked at me. “Kat?” he asked, friendly concern lighting up his eyes.
His beautiful blond lashes were almost sparkling under the last light of the setting sun. He looked like a birthday cake, with smooth, creamy skin and sweet icing features.
I was hungry as hell, even though I’d had a huge lunch. It felt as if I hadn’t eaten in years. My hands burnt as if I’d dipped them in a lake of fire.
He was a pretty perceptive guy, so I couldn’t stand there hiding my hands for long before he honed in on them.
“What’s up?” he said with a serious tone, “What’s wrong with your hands?”
Then he reached out for them. I could’ve held them up, and let his strong, gentle touch heal them, as he healed people all day.
I couldn’t let him see whatever the hell was happening to me. Not when he looked so perfect.
So, I turned tail and ran into the woods behind my house. He was so shocked I don’t think he even thought about coming after me, until I was too deep into the trees for him to follow.
Chapter Four
I ran well into the night. I was starving; my stomach growled louder than my horrible crying. It’s hard to run while sobbing but I’ve never been a quitter.
My hands had been this mottled green color that I couldn’t understand, but at some point they’d gone back down to a passably human shape. Now, in the dark they, looked as if they might just be dirty, not deformed. I wondered whether I’d imagined how horrible they looked when I was stressed. I was starting to feel dumb for running out into the woods like a wild animal.