Not His Dragon (8 page)

Maybe she owned other undiscovered characteristics like producing smoke or breathing fire. She said she couldn’t shape shift, which was a magical process. Her link to those powers could be blocked by her human DNA.

A flush of color brightened her face. “This is why I don’t want to return to your castle. No matter what attraction you are imagining, I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

“That’s good.” He breathed a dramatic sigh of relief for her benefit. “I’m terrible boyfriend material.” Pinning her against the wall with his body, he relished the way her breasts pressed against him as she breathed in deep. “I’ve been told I’m very selfish.”

“This is sexual harassment.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“Two days ago you called it assault. I don’t think you know what these words mean.”

“What would you call it then?” A cute snarl followed her question.

He chuckled. “Flirting.”

She set her hands on his chest and did her best to push. He had to admit she was stronger than a human, but he didn’t budge.

With a distressed noise, she flopped limp between him and the wall. “Does what I want even matter to you?”

He scratched his chin. Of course it did, but why was she misunderstanding him? He was only responding to his instincts. Was she this capable of ignoring hers or was she playing hard to get? The relationship with Ryota had left deep scars and Eoin would need to help her heal before she’d let him close. Tact and sensitivity would be needed and he owned neither of these qualities. It looked like they’d be in for a hell of a ride.

He backed off from Angie, giving her space. “No flirting.” Raising his hands in the air, he took another step away toward the shop door and opened it for her. “I promise to be a gentleman.”

“And you always keep your promises?”

“I have to. A dragon is nothing but a beast without his honor.”

“Thank you.” As she passed into the shop, he couldn’t resist smacking her heart-shaped ass.

That felt way too good. “See you at seven, toots.” He let the door close on her squeal of shock. Grinning, he strolled along the street and popped another cigarette in his mouth. They didn’t affect his health like humans. If anything, the cigarettes made him more socially acceptable since he produced smoke even in his human form. Smoking just made humans see him as less of a monster.

Light on his feet, he made his way to his Harley. He’d parked his girl a block away to avoid any trouble. He half expected Ryota to appear at Angie’s shop and after the mark Eoin had left on the alpha’s car, well, let’s just say his bike didn’t need a scratch. The werewolves seemed protective of Angie. From Ryota’s behavior, Eoin suspected she could be made honorary pack as his mate if she wanted. Yet, it seemed she pushed the alpha away. What drove her? Not greed, not power, nor status. Well, maybe a little greed. He chuckled recalling the way her gaze riveted to his ruby when he’d offered the gift. It was exactly how a she-dragon should react. Treasure made their world go round, after all. It was the definition of treasure that changed from dragon to dragon.

The bright morning sunshine warmed Eoin’s face. Oddly, it didn’t bother him. He preferred the night for obvious reasons, but this morning found him anxious to convince Angie to reconsider her resignation.

She really didn’t
want
to quit and she admitted to needing the money. Her fear of him drove her away. He had twelve hours to figure out how to bypass this dread and show her he wasn’t just a dragon shifter. He could be a man. She needed to see beyond his scales.

He took a deep pull on the cigarette and blew it out in a slow stream. Pausing in the street, he looked around the buildings and empty sidewalks. When had he felt this animated? He’d grown stale living alone all these decades. Recalling his emotional state a few days ago, he had seemed dead in comparison. Empty of everything. Hollow inside. Angie had ignited his soul and sparked a new interest in the world.

Was this what the art dealer had tried to tell him?

For the first time in a long while he felt young and alive, like he had a purpose, yet the source wanted to escape him. He had tried luring her with money and that had worked until he’d crossed a line, making his personal interest in her too obvious. Threatening her clientele had worked but it would lead to negative feelings.

He rubbed the short stubble on his head. Well, fuck, he cared what she thought. He had one night to fix this so she could see that he wasn’t an asshole like Ryota.

Speaking of which, the alpha was waiting for him by his bike. Eoin approached, keeping his body loose and relaxed. “Ryota.” He flung his cigarette at the alpha’s expensive-looking shoes.

Ryota startled at the toss. “Hey, watch it.”

“What do you do again for a living?” Eoin couldn’t imagine having to wear something so uncomfortable all the time.

Ryota pulled out his wallet and handed Eoin a business card. “I’m a lawyer for the supernatural community.”

“Huh?” Why did they need a lawyer? He pocketed the card. “I suppose you’re here because of Angie.”

“That and you frightened my omega.”

“Please, give Beth my sincerest apologies. She ran off before I could assure her of my intentions. I would have let her inside the shop.” He would have let any customers in as well.

“What do you want with Angie?”

Eoin didn’t like Ryota’s possessive tone. “To thank her for last night. She has the most exquisite touch.”

The alpha growled. “Leave her alone.”

“She told me you haven’t marked her.”

“Yet.”

Eoin blinked his nictitating membranes, the ones that moved horizontally, and enjoyed Ryota’s flinch. Shifting his eyes to his dragon’s, with the vertically slit pupil, he met the alpha’s uncertain glare. “Angie belongs to me now, little dog.” Eoin patted the alpha’s head. “She made it quite clear that you are no longer part of her life. You’ve done enough damage. Now run along before I forget my manners and eat you in public.” He’d never had issues sharing a female, but the thought of anyone hurting Angie boiled his blood.

Ryota didn’t love her. Werewolves wanted to claim their mates. A female like Angie should be cared for. Pampered. Cherished.

The alpha scowled but turned his back to Eoin and made his way to the office building across the street.

That’s what Eoin would do for Angie. He would pamper her. Starting with a meal. His gaze traveled to his bike and the deep, grooved scratches carved into his paint job. “Fucking wolf.”

He jumped on his bike, refusing to let petty werewolf tactics wreck his good mood, and drove home. A familiar black Cadillac blocked his courtyard. His gut twisted. He’d forgotten all about Roger and Lorenzo. What would he show them? He’d flash-fried all his paintings the other night. Parking next to the car, he noticed they were examining the lump of metal he’d thrown out the window in a rage. “Gentlemen?” He joined them.

Lorenzo shook his hand. “This is fabulous.” He gestured to Eoin’s trash. “Why did you keep your sculpting secret?”

Eoin raised an eyebrow. Speechless, he turned to Roger, who stood behind the art dealer.

His agent rolled his eyes. “One can’t rush art. Eoin wasn’t ready to share this side of himself with the public yet.” This was exactly the reason why he’d hired Roger. The man could think fast.

“Yes, that’s eloquently said.” Eoin stared at the molten mess with jagged claw marks seared in to its element. He couldn’t even distinguish the cans.

Lorenzo joined him. “It’s visceral. Like a kick in the gut.” He fingered a sharp edge and hissed. Bright red blood seeped from a thin cut on his fingertip. “And dangerous.” He glanced at Eoin. “Just like you.”

“It’s what you asked for.” He wanted to pound the statue into the ground. This wasn’t a medium he was familiar with.

“May I see the others?”

“Others?” Eoin’s voice rose an octave.

“They’re en route from Berlin and will be here in a few days,” Roger interrupted.

“A week,” Eoin countered.

Roger gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Five days at the most.”

Lorenzo watched their exchange with interest. “Then you can deliver them in time for your show.”

“I thought that was canceled.” Eoin eyed Roger.

“I hadn’t finalized the cancellation yet. Roger had promised me something spectacular first and this is beyond my expectations.” Lorenzo clapped Roger on the back. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

His agent faced him quickly and whispered, “I bought you five days and a show. Don’t let me down.” He turned and marched to his car without a backward glance.

Eoin watched them depart. Five days. Where was the closest scrap yard? He needed metal of all types, and his fire. It would be a long night.

Chapter Thirteen

Eoin’s acute vision helped on the dark roads as the streetlights flickered. Those that worked. His fingertips ached from molding molten metal all day. So far everything looked like car wrecks. He could hear his future art career going up in flames. The only thing that helped him through the day was his appointment with Angie.

She lived on the fringe of the industrial area of the city. Her walk to and from work was not safe. She needed a car.

Parking his bike in front of her building, he gazed at the chipped red brick. Some of the windows were cracked. Before he could get off his bike Angie ran out the door. She’d been waiting for him.

The warmth spreading in his chest had nothing to do with his flame.

Worn jeans clung to her shapely legs and her tits strained against the plain gray t-shirt, leaving him sucker-punched. She set her hands on her hips and the motion exposed a thin line of midriff, just enough to draw his attention and tempt him to run his tongue along the edge. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath. “Ready.” She glanced at his bike. “Wait, you expecting me to ride on this death trap?”

He ran his hands over the gas tank. “Don’t listen to the mean girl. She’s just jealous.”

Angie's lips quirked, struggling not to smile.

“It's a beautiful night for biking.” He handed her a helmet. “I didn't think you'd be afraid.”

With her fingertips, she traced the scratches Ryota left on his paint job. “Looks like you’ve taken a spill.”

“Nah, that’s vandalism. Cold, calculated vandalism.” He didn’t mention Ryota’s name. The alpha’s invisible presence would only stain their evening together. He wanted Angie all to himself, no sharing her with a memory.

“Whoever did that must have balls the size of watermelons to touch a dragon’s toy.”

Eoin enjoyed the sharp edge of her teasing. “I’m sure he does, but his dick must be pine-needle-size to do it while my back was turned.”

She laughed, the sound deep and throaty rolling from her belly.

“I’ve never crashed.” He held the helmet out and dared her with his gaze. Where was the hellcat who’d pepper sprayed him?

She snatched the helmet from his hands. “Being cautious is not the same as fear. Remember, I’m frail in comparison to big boned dragons.” Swinging her leg over the seat, she sat as far away from him as possible with just her hands holding his waist.

He reached under her thighs, pulled her against him so her breasts pressed against his back and her legs cradled his hips. “That’s better.” He guided her hands to rest on his chest. He could think of a better place to set them but he had promised to behave. Well, mostly.

Her gasp was audible through the helmet.

He pulled away from the curb before she could change position. Not long after, her body melted against his as he drove out of the city and toward his mountain home.

The castle loomed into their view and he sensed her tense. In the night, his home could appear foreboding. Dark towers rose, blocking out the stars and not a single inviting light was left burning in the windows. He had done it on purpose to dissuade the press and tourists from trespassing. The rumble of the engine crashed over the quiet of the forest and the single headlight of his bike parted the night. He coasted to the front entrance and silenced his bike. The calm of the evening rolled back in place.

A welcoming cool breeze ran over his skin. People thought dragons sought out heat but the opposite was really the truth. The volcanoes they prized were for hatching eggs and raising their fragile young. Adults preferred the cold since they produced enough heat on their own.

Angie swung off his bike, landing hard on her legs. Her knees buckled at the sudden motion.

He steadied her by the elbows and dismounted. “Whoa. Your legs aren’t used to clinging on to something for so long.”

She shot him a daggered look but didn’t respond to his innuendo.

“Do you think if I provided enough light we could work out here?”

“Why?” She shifted her gaze to the dark forest.

He followed her stare. “I guess you didn’t camp as a child?” Modern society was losing its edge by turning away from nature. If a squirrel jumped from a tree, Angie would probably scream.

“I’ve spent my share of nights outdoors, except mine were in boxes or under bridges. No tents for me.” She gave a weak laugh as if haunted by those memories.

He’d been wrong about Angie. If something jumped out of the forest, she’d slay it. He rested his arm over her shoulder. “A beautiful night shouldn’t be wasted staying indoors.” He resisted the urge to gather her in his arms. “Nothing in those woods could harm you. Not with me around.”

She scooted out from under his arm. “I wasn’t worried.” She stood taller. “I just don’t see how you can light the place enough for me to see.”

“My resources to create fire are limitless.” He strode to the garage. “With enough torches I can light the general area.” He came to a sudden stop. Maybe they were stored in the dungeon?

Angie walked full force into him. “Ouch.” He hadn’t noticed her following. “Warn a girl.” She rubbed her nose.

“Are you all right?” He leaned close to check her injury and inhaled deeply, taking in her addictive scent. He suspected she wouldn’t complain even if she’d broken it.

“Yes.” She retreated. “I’ll be fine. I was more surprised than hurt.” She kept avoiding his touch.

“You should have waited by the bike.”

Toeing the ground, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s creepy.”

Smiling, he turned his back on her and unlocked the garage. If she was going to be jumpy about the dark, then he shouldn’t bring her to the dungeon. That would send her screaming out of his life forever. He’d make do with whatever stuff he found in the garage.

He flicked on the overhead light and searched the shelves.

“Wow.” The breathless word made him spin around. Angie turned a slow circle in the middle of the room surrounded by his cars. “Some of these are antiques.” She ran her hands over the Aston Martin with reverence.

“I am the original owner of most of them.”

“Why do you drive the motorcycle?”

He chuckled. Of course she liked the Aston Martin. “I like the wind in my hair.”

She pointedly stared at his shaved head. “Yeah.” What could he say? It was easier to care for if he kept it short.

Behind her, in the far corner leaning against the wall were some tiki torches he could use. He gathered those, a hard hat, and a handful tools.

She followed on his heels. “If you’re the original owner, that makes you much older than me.”

“Does it matter?” He set the hat on her head.

“No.” She removed the hard hat with a puzzled expression. “Really none of my business.”

He flicked the headlight on and she jumped. “You’ll see my scales better.” He set the hat back on her head. She was much,
much
younger than him and she’d never met another dragon. He took a step nearer. The need to possess and claim her uncurled in his gut. She’d be
only
his.

Angie stared up at him with her big, brown eyes. She’d given him her trust when she agreed to return tonight. Oh, how he had misjudged the depth of his desire for her. Her thin t-shirt would tear with one hard yank and he could be upon her within seconds.

With a jerk of his head, he stormed from the garage before he broke his word and her trust. In the clear expanse of grass, he’d used for naps, he jabbed the torches one by one into the ground with single, hard strokes until they circled the area. Fire burned in his chest and he lit the wicks by spitting small fireballs.

Angie stood in the center of the circle still wide-eyed. “I didn’t know dragons had such good control over their fire.”

Feeling smug, Eoin took off his shirt. “It’s a practiced skill.” He and his brothers used to toss them at each other for fun. Either they learned to dodge or they improved their aim. He tugged off his jeans and sensed Angie’s gaze caressing his flesh. Desire blazed thick in his blood.

He lowered his gaze as he marched toward her. If he saw even a hint of interest in her eyes, his control would vanish. Better for him to look away and avoid her gaze altogether. He shifted to dragon form in a pop of silken magic. Lying down in the circle of light, he offered Angie a wing to climb aboard his back.

“What tools will I need tonight?” She rummaged through the things he’d carried out of the garage.

“After you finish cleaning out any missed spots of rot, use the coarse file and the handheld garden clippers to cut off the edges of any chipped or cracked scales. The scales need to be smooth to heal properly.”

She gathered what she needed and climbed on his back.

He liked her slight weight on his spine, the feel of her fingers gently prying his scales. Sighing, he closed his eyes while she worked in silence. The cool breeze soothed the smoldering heat growing inside him. No female had ever affected him like Angie did.