Taming My Rebel: A Dragon Shifter Romance

by Sadie Sears

  But a chill crept up me, squeezing my chest until I couldn’t breathe as the noise of snapping branches came closer. There was nowhere to hide out here. Nowhere. Something snagged the back of my dress, and raspy breathing blew hot, smelly air over my exposed shoulder.

  Without looking, I wrenched free and spun away in a new direction, dodging behind tree after tree until I had no idea which direction I was running in or where I’d started.

  My ragged panting filled the air as every breath I drew expelled the last one, and my knees started to buckle. I couldn’t go much farther. Normally my runs were on sidewalks or trails. Sedate, steady. As if on cue, my heel snapped, but I didn’t have time for that. I kicked off my shoes and continued running until the shadow of a squat, single-story building grabbed my focus. It was huge, but it wasn’t the compound, and that was all that mattered.

  Oh, thank fuck. Relief carried me the rest of the way. All I had to do was get inside and stay put until morning. And if the universe loved me at all, there would be electricity and a phone charger that matched my phone in there. Perhaps it was the right time to take up prayer.

  I crept around the perimeter, searching for a door or a window. A cat flap, even. But all I found was a plastic milk crate as I kicked it over in the dark.

  “Shh!” I pressed my finger to my lips, but I wasn’t sure if I was scolding the crate for being noisy or myself for being so clumsy.

  Silence answered me.

  I continued around the building, staying low, staying close to the brick. But as I glanced higher, a window caught my attention, and I rose to take a closer look. Even standing on my tiptoes, it was too high, damnit, but it was cracked open, so it was a way in.

  My senses were still tingling. I wasn’t safe out here, so I scurried to the milk crate and carried it back.

  Once morning came, if I hadn’t gotten my phone working, I could regroup, figure out where I was, and take my phone to the police to show them my video. In the light, I’d be able to find my way back to town.

  I pressed my foot against the rough wall and shimmied through the window, throwing my weight forward and wriggling until I made it to the other side. The inside. Hopefully, the safe side because I needed a moment to catch my breath and decide what to do. Rest sounded good. I landed with a thump, but I didn’t care. This place was as safe as any right now—at least it offered a locked door.

  I wrapped my arms around myself to stop the trembling that started as the adrenaline faded. Cars. They were parked bumper to bumper. Vintage cars, high-end sports cars, and cars from various eras in between. I sucked in a breath as I trailed my fingertips over the smooth paintwork on a tailfin. I was in the biggest damn garage I’d ever seen.

  The door behind me burst open. “Get your hand off my car!” The male voice echoed off the painted brickwork, and as all the lights flickered on, the scratched runes around the room seemed to burn themselves into my mind.

  I met chocolate brown eyes, my heart thumping wildly—which I believed was a natural fear response. Until I launched myself into his arms.

  He caught me, wrapping an arm around my waist as I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my body against his, reveling in the sensation that I had been found. The movement was rapid, two bodies clashing together based on instinct alone. A pull I couldn’t fight… I didn’t want to fight. My eyelids fluttered closed as his lips claimed mine in a move filled with possession and passion that I met with equal fervor. And a flicker of light sparked to life inside me.

  A blanket of undeniable safety wrapped around me.

  I sank into the feeling as his tongue probed my mouth, and I welcomed it, the sweet, sweet seduction… Seduction that I wanted as desire skittered through my body. I shifted closer to—

  My eyes sprang open, and I jumped back, forcing myself away from this stranger. What the hell was I doing? Where were my logical thoughts?

  He watched me, his chest rising and falling rapidly as I pushed my hands against him, moving us even farther apart.

  Shit. Shit. Really, what was I doing? Had I been about to—? Crap. I moved quickly behind one of the cars, putting a physical barrier between us. Something about him still called to me, but it wasn’t safe. I still wasn’t safe. Something was out there trying to find me, and now an unknown something was also in here. I balled my hands into fists, determined to face him.

  I expected him to look pissed off… Maybe a little disgusted, even. The women he usually kissed were probably beautiful, tall, and oh-so-bottle-blonde, not a slightly muddy natural shade like mine. But he didn’t look disgusted at all. Instead, he looked endearingly bemused.

  But he wasn’t endearing at all. At least, I couldn’t think that way. Not when he was standing between me and the only door out of this place.

  “What the hell are you doing in my garage?” he asked quieter, but his voice was gruff and a little fierce.

  I allowed my gaze to rove over his body as I tried to get the words straight to answer.

  He wore a button-down shirt, half untucked from black pants, and his feet were bare, like he’d dressed in a hurry. But his muscles were obvious, even under the fabric, and they rippled and shifted with every movement. He exuded strength. His dark hair called for me to run my hands through it, but I was obviously insane because I was off good-looking guys. Right? And they were off me. I hadn’t meant to find a next one after that guy at the party—only I’d just kissed the first next one I saw.

  “Well?”

  I looked away from his gaze. I couldn’t meet those eyes. “I… I’m sorry.” It was a hell of a lot easier than the truth.

  And it was at least polite.

  This wasn’t a safe place to stay, regardless of what my addled mind and tired legs told me. I glanced behind him to the door. I could make it. Sure, he had all those muscles and that physical strength thing going on, but I had mental agility and determination, and I was running on pure fucking fear. Granted, it was tired, but it was pure.

  My fingers cramped around my phone, but I couldn’t let go. That was the one thing I had to prove my ordeal. “I have to go.” I should put it away, though. I shoved it into my purse in case he tried to take it from me.

  As I tried to move past him, dodging before he could twist, he reached for me. The guy was faster than I thought. He picked me up before setting me directly in front of him. Then he snatched his hands back and tucked them behind him as a flash of unease crossed his features.

  He drew his brows down. “Let me ask again. What the hell are you doing in my garage?”

  Panic flooded me as the horrors I’d been pushing back forced their way to the front of my mind, jumbling my thoughts. I couldn’t be here. I was pretty sure I’d just watched people getting murdered. I sobbed—just once, but his eyes widened in reaction and his stance softened. I just needed to get away. To safety, to the police.

  I lashed out at him, throwing a punch out of sheer desperation. It wouldn’t hurt him—hell, it wouldn’t even make a dent in those muscles—but it might distract him long enough that I could dodge by and leave.

  But that didn’t happen. He blocked me, capturing my closed fist in his hand, and I gasped at the unexpected contact before yanking my arm to my side.

  Anger replaced my earlier panic and even overrode his magnetic pull. This guy was standing between the exit and me, and I didn’t have time for that shit.

  “All those people,” I blurted as I struck his chest with my fists. “Get out of my way. I have to help the people.”

  He glanced down at me, his eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he took my clenched fists in his hands and held them, twisting me around so my back was to his chest as he restrained me from striking him again. It was more like a dance move than a fighting one, and his body heat warmed my skin, even through our clothes.

  “Let me go.” I spoke through gritted teeth, my brain remembering I needed to get away even as my body wanted to relax against him. “I need to call the police. I need to help those people.
I need to get away.” I tried to wriggle free but his soft hold on me was deceptive.

  His muscles must have been made from pure steel.

  “No.” I yelled at the same time as I stomped on his foot, using his surprise to spring away, laughing as his grip on me slipped.

  But I stumbled, and his fingers tightened once more.

  “Help!” I yelled the word, hoping to shock him into releasing me. “Help! I’m being held against my will.” That was true, but my fear never reached the same level as it had when I ran from the party, and my voice sounded thin and unconvincing.

  “Help me!” I tried again.

  He huffed a soft laugh across my hair, his breath tickling my ear. “No one can hear you.”

  I stilled. Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe whoever had been chasing me could hear every word. For all I knew, he was in on whatever had happened.

  “Look, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Ha! I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I needed time to think this out, to plan. As he spoke again, words I didn’t even try to listen to, I released a long breath and went limp against him, forcing him to catch me and bear my weight in his arms.

  It worked—or he stopped talking at least—and the quiet would give me the time I’d wanted to plan a second escape and potential rescue of anyone left.

  Only as he picked me up, he paused a moment, holding me tight as he murmured against my hair. “Everything’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  That was the best thing I’d heard all night.

  And the most terrifying.

  2

  Draven

  Everything’s okay. I’ve got you. Her hair smelled amazing, but what the fuck was I thinking? I’ve got you? And everything was not okay. I had an unconscious woman in my arms, and I was telling her that I had her. Like, what did that mean? Sure, I had her, physically, but…something else.

  The moment I kissed her, something seemed to knock loose in my chest. I could still taste her on my lips, my tongue, and something inside me wanted more.

  Only now… I shifted her against me, and she didn’t stir. Now, she might be dead.

  The demon who never left me crowed with delight, those feelings obvious and as familiar to me as my own face. We didn’t converse anymore. Instead, I just felt everything. Words were rarely necessary. I was literally steered by the devil on my left shoulder. He made it obvious when he approved of my decisions and tried to veto any good deeds. Listening to him. That was how I survived, how I kept my soul.

  But there was something new. A bone-deep sorrow and regret, a nudge from deeper in my chest. The dormant part of me that had stopped making itself known to me a long time ago. And it hurt now as it stirred.

  Worse, I didn’t know which part of me to listen to as I watched her with more scrutiny than I cared to admit. Was I pulling for her death or hoping for life? Regardless, I stood perfectly still until her chest moved, her breasts pushing gently against her low-cut dress, and her eyelashes fluttered the barest of movements against her skin.

  Relief came first, and it battled a flare of disappointment. In fact, more than relief. Warmth hummed through my chest, and I didn’t want to put down the woman in my arms.

  Mine. The thought echoed through me, loud and blocking out anything else. Something inside me fought for her, even while my demon sent insidious whispers with instructions to harm her through my mind.

  Something about this one woman fascinated me, and simply the feel of her against me affected both my cock and my heart. I grinned ruefully. I’d long forgotten my heart, which was the way my demon preferred it.

  I grimaced. I had to go out, but I couldn’t let her go now that I’d found her, and I couldn’t just lay her on the floor in my garage. I walked to the very back of the room and leaned a shoulder against a brick where I’d scratched a rune showing my ownership of this space, and woe betide anyone who didn’t respect what was mine.

  The wall slid aside, revealing my secret treasury where I kept my most precious finds with those amassed by the generations before me—not that these were my inheritance. When I found things of worth, I made sure they became mine. Not everything held monetary value—some things I simply kept because I liked them. But others… They were true treasures. I hunted for them, I located them, I brought them back. For me. And sometimes I stood in this room, captivated by the glint of gemstones and precious metal.

  I laid her carefully on an ermine cloak trimmed with tiny diamonds, then brushed some stray leaves from her hair as gently as I could. No one would find her here, and neither could she escape because the door mechanism was carefully hidden. Hopefully, she’d sleep—until I returned, anyway. I stepped back as an odd preening sensation rippled into my mind at the sight of her in what looked like a nest as I tucked the cloak around her sleeping form.

  A purr raced through my chest, and I pressed my hand to my body, waiting on the indigestion to settle.

  But my demon spurred me on. I had to leave. I wasn’t finished with the day yet. I’d gotten a text from Saul that he had an urgent assignment for me. My demon cackled, and I anticipated the rush of pleasure that normally accompanied that sound, but it was muted.

  I’d only stepped out to my garage to choose my ride into town. I glanced at my watch. And now I was running late, so that really narrowed my choice of transport to my bike. I smoothed my hand over the polished chrome.

  Even though Saul only lived a short distance away, he always seemed to drag me out to The Dragon’s Lair pub in town—called it his office and had a regular booth.

  As I moved, the woman’s scent swirled around me. I needed to change my clothes—I couldn’t meet Saul freshly bathed in eau de human female. She was my secret, for a little while longer, anyway. At least until I figured out what to do with her. My demon chafed against even the idea of her, so Saul certainly wouldn’t be happy to know I had an unexpected guest in my treasure room.

  Protect her.

  The thought came completely at odds with my demon instinct, and I paused my stride as I walked toward my house. I waited, but heard nothing else, only my demon pushing me to meet Saul. He liked Saul. They shared many of the same desires.

  I threw on some clean clothes and grabbed the ring Saul had sent me to retrieve most recently. It glinted enticingly, but I tucked it into my pocket before climbing on my bike and maxing my speed on the road that led deep into the city, hydroplaning across most of the bridge courtesy of the spray from below. Before I hit any of the upmarket houses on the outskirts of Port Lair’s center, I swung into the commercial district where Chloe’s pub was located. This part of town was a little seedier than true downtown, but none of us regulars cared. It kept away the tourists.

  I drew up in the parking lot and killed my engine. The Dragon’s Lair had a thumping beat emanating from it—if Chloe wasn’t careful, every person within a hundred-mile radius would know the location, never mind Port Lair tourists.

  I spotted Ash in position at the door, his usual bouncer grimace in place. His arms were folded tightly over his broad chest, and his biceps bulged from the frayed edges of the sleeveless shirt he wore as a vest.

  “Hey, Ash.” I greeted him with a casual wave as I walked quickly to the entrance.

  For a moment, his eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared as he looked at me, but his speculative expression was gone before I could make any sense of it. “Hey, man. Busy night?”

  I shrugged. “Just Saul.”

  “Well, he certainly keeps you busy.”

  I shrugged again. Ash had his job, I had mine. And I was usually for hire. I’d done all sorts of shit for Saul, most of it illegal, all of it questionable.

  Ash grinned and stepped aside. “See you later.”

  I walked inside and automatically took a deep breath, inhaling the mixed aromas of hops, stale beer, wood, and an ever-present undertone of sweat and testosterone. I glanced around at the familiar environment, relaxing in the dim interior; the dragon scale motifs and runes having an almost subconsciou
s meditative effect on me. Ownership, possession—it was all written here, but mostly I drew familiarity and warmth from them. A connection to something deep inside me. Even the almost invisible wisps of smoke that drifted through the bar occasionally had always kept both my demon and dragon happy. Dragonfire or hellfire. They didn’t care. Not that I’d heard from my dragon in years. But I liked to imagine him happy.

  Chloe’s wall of the fallen, the one made up of scales collected from dead dragons, sat behind the bar, in an odd kind of homage to all of those already gone.

  My dragon was quiet here because the scale-shaped tiles in reds and oranges on the remaining walls looked a hell of a lot like jewels, and my demon was happy because most of the other people drinking in here were going directly to hell. He liked to roll out the welcome mat.

  Chloe skirted close to the wind on discovery with so many obvious dragon touches, that was for sure. Although maybe it was a case of a person only knowing if they knew. I caught her eye as she stood behind her bar, and she gestured at me, an impatient wave to get me moving in her direction, but I shook my head.

  Saul wasn’t a guy I liked to keep waiting.

  I strode straight to his usual position, and he was where I expected to find him, sitting in the corner, a deep red spirit in the shot glasses in front of him.

  He nudged one to my side of the table as I slid into my seat. “Drink.”

  I grabbed the shot glass and downed the contents without a thought. Like I said, I did the shit Saul wanted me to do.

  He held his hand out, and I pressed the ring into it. His eyes almost glowed as he looked at it. Saul had been bad so long that his demon was entirely in control, but on rare occasions like this, I saw his dragon peep briefly through. This ring was just enough to pique whatever interest his dragon had left, but it held no power over him. That made Saul very dangerous. That, and he wore a rune of ownership. It decorated his belt buckle, cufflinks when he wore them, and it was on the obnoxious pinky ring he never took off. He belonged to someone else—someone more powerful. A puppeteer.