Dragon Called: A Slow Burn Sexy Paranormal Romance

by Kara Lockharte

  She stared at the fat envelope without touching it.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “This…just…it feels like a bribe.” She shoved at the envelope with a finger.

  He blinked at her. “You did a job. You need the money.”

  She looked over at him, eyes flashing—he’d clearly struck a nerve. “I guess I do. I guess people like me get bought by people like you.” She grabbed the envelope and reached for the door, and he ought to have just let her leave, but he couldn’t help but protest.

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said, grabbing her wrist before she could go. “I mean, of course, we did a background check on you—”

  Andi shook him free but settled down. “And that’s better?” she asked, holding her wrist where he’d touched it.

  “I was leaving you in a room with my best friend and about ten thousand dollars’ worth of narcotics. Forgive me for not being trusting.”

  He couldn’t read the emotions flowing across her face. Pride was one of them, he was sure—beautiful and misplaced—but she was also breathing heavy, and she still wasn’t leaving, despite his semi-best efforts to get her to go.

  If she really wanted to leave, wouldn’t she have left already?

  Her hand curled around the envelope as though she were considering it, but then she asked, “Is he all right?”

  “Yes. Because of you.”

  She nodded. “That’s good.”

  “It is,” he agreed.

  Silence passed between them then—far too long to not be noticed by both. “So, I guess this is it, isn’t it?” she asked him, her voice small—asking him for permission to leave and acknowledgement that it was over.

  Neither of which were things he had to grant.

  Blood rushed in his ears like static and ran other places far more dangerous. A distant part of him realized that if he were a dragon now, she would be the size of one delicious bite precisely.

  He both knew what he ought to tell her and what he wanted to.

  “It should be,” he said carefully.

  Should was a pregnant word. It had room in it. It was an acknowledgement that telling her anything else was a bad idea, that his mere presence in her life would only bring danger into hers. But it wasn’t a closing door.

  Did it make him less of a man, being unable to walk away?

  Or was this the most human thing he’d ever done?

  “Should?” she asked as if tasting the opportunity.

  “Should,” he repeated.

  If she was smart enough for both of them, if she got out and slammed the door behind herself, he would be strong enough not to follow her. Instead, he watched her open up the door, step out, and look back in at him.

  “And…what happens if it’s not the end?” she asked, as the predator in him heard her pulse speed up.

  Damian let go of a breath, and a fresh match struck against the dark roughness of his heart and burst into flame. “Then, you text me with a date and time, and I’ll come flying, so to speak.”

  A smile teased around the edges of her lips but didn’t quite escape. “Okay.” She nodded and carefully closed the car’s door. He watched her hair swirl around her and her ass sway as she took the stairs up to her apartment over the bakery, and he waited until she’d safely unlocked her door and walked inside before turning the key in the ignition.

  Mine, his dragon claimed her. Just like I told you.

  Shush, he told the beast, but he didn’t deny it.

  Chapter 12

  No sooner had Andi closed her apartment door behind her, then her phone started to buzz.

  You are so, soooooooooooo busted.

  Girl, get right back down here. I need you to try a new thing!

  Don’t think I didn’t see you!

  Eumie—her close friend and the owner of the bakery downstairs—was blowing up her phone. Andi groaned and turned around. I’ll violate about forty different health codes if I come inside, Andi texted back, as she walked down the stairs.

  Alley! Now! Eumie demanded.

  Andi sighed and doubled back beneath the stairs to take the narrow pathway behind the building on the right-hand side until she was behind the bakery, where Eumie could sneak out.

  The scent of cinnamon, vanilla, and sugar wafted from the kitchen, overwhelming the typical alley smells. Eumorphopoulo—aka Eumie—was in their fifties and had that smooth Mediterranean light brown skin that was sometimes mistaken for a deep tan. They were non-binary and their gender presentation was fluid, but today they had on big gold hoop earrings, which Andi had learned for them was femme. “Okay, what on God’s green half-acre were you doing getting out of Damian Blackwood the Third’s fancy ass vehicle?” Eumie started talking before she’d even cleared the door. Then they took all of Andi in. “And why the hell did he take you to play paintball?”

  She looked down at herself, still covered in blue splotches. It was the most reasonable explanation. “It…was a long night.”

  Eumie’s arms crossed as they gave Andi the look. Eumie was short, and their green bakery apron hung down almost to their feet like a wide snake’s tail. Their bright beady eyes missed nothing, which usually made them an excellent friend/maternal-substitute-material, except for situations like right the fuck now.

  “What did you want me to try?” Andi asked quickly, trying to deflect and noting the slice of bread in Eumie’s hand. “You’re going to have to feed it to me; I’m absolutely disgusting.”“Fine, missy,” Eumie said, holding it out for Andi to take an obliging chomp.

  It was…delicious. Like pho, only in bread form. “Oh my God, Eumie…that’s magical.” She had to fight to stop for reaching for the rest of the slice. “It’s just like my grandmother never made.”

  Eumie preened a little, although Andi knew she still wasn’t out of the question zone. “Basil transcends all culinary boarders,” Eumie said, then tossed the rest of the slice over Andi’s shoulder for the pigeons, and Andi knew her chance to dodge was over. “Okay, so, now that we’ve both acknowledged I’m a baking genius…what the hell?”

  “Would you believe I can’t tell you anything about it because of patient privacy?” Andi said, searching for cover. Eumie snorted like they didn’t believe her—usually, Andi stopped in and unwound at the bakery after a shift, before going upstairs and sleeping. “I mean, how do you even recognize his car anyways?”

  “Because I keep waiting for the chance to key it,” Eumie said matter-of-factly, and Andi knew they weren’t lying. Eumie donated baked goods to every nonprofit under the sun and had run for city council more than once on a platform of anti-gentrification—whereas Damian’s family’s public face was pretty much gentrification personified. Eumie must’ve seen some of Andi’s discomfiture in her expression because they then said, much kindlier, “He is really good-looking though. He’s a useless spoiled roustabout—but a handsome one.”

  She bit her lips and looked down at her phone with his contact information in it—Damian’s offer to fly to her still ringing in her mind. “Good-looking enough that you wouldn’t hate me for going out with him?” she asked, wincing.

  “Oh,” Eumie said, everything about them softening. “So, it’s like that, is it?”

  “I don’t know what it’s like yet,” Andi said truthfully.

  “Well, I guess that depends on if he’s going to keep trying to tie-dye you,” Eumie said, giving Andi’s current state of blueness a meaningful glance. “But…just because I’m opposed to him politically doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have a little fun.” Eumie held up their thumb and forefinger an illustrative amount, spreading them apart slowly as they talked. “And if you talk to him about spending some of his immense wealth on something other than a ridiculous sports car, the homeless shelter on Fifth and Grand has got it rough.”

  Andi’s eyebrows rose. “Do you want me to be Robin Hood, or are you whoring me out?” she teased.

  “It’s a fine line, is all I’m saying.” Eumie closed their eyes
and raised their hands up into prayer, intoning like a yoga instructor during Shavasana. “Go where the vagina takes you. You only live once.” And then they winked open one sly eye. “But if your vagina takes you into a billionaire’s mansion, you should definitely steal some shit. It’s not like he’ll know.”

  “Eumie!” Andi protested.

  “What?” Eumie answered with a straight face, before snickering into laughter.

  “You know what!” Andi said, laughing along. “I’m dying. You’ve killed me, so I’m dead. No more about my vagina—”

  “And speaking of dead things,” Eumie said, giving Andi a knowing look.

  “Oh. My. God!” Andi sputtered. “You’re lucky I love you!”

  “I am!” they agreed. “But it’s time you took down that shrine to Josh up in there. He couldn’t handle you because he didn’t deserve you. So, flip the sign between your legs from closed to open. You’re too young for that nonsense,” Eumie said, waving her away with both hands. “Go have fun. Even if it is with the devil.”

  Andi grinned at her friend, trying to keep her thoughts off her face as her heart beat quickly.

  He’s not a devil.

  He’s a dragon.

  Andi crept back up her stairs to her apartment, closing the door gently behind herself and quietly taking off her shoes, hoping beyond hope that she could dodge Sammy until she got into her shower.

  “Hi! I’m alive! Going to sleep now!” she announced the second her hand was on her bedroom door handle, and she heard Sammy’s sleep-muffled response as she darted inside. She braced herself against her bedroom door, happy to see her normal things again. Her cheap red rug peeking around the edges of her bed made with cotton penguin-patterned sheets. Her secondhand chair covered in clothes she hadn’t bothered to put away. Her desk covered books and bills and a treasured family portrait of the three of them—her, her brother, and mom, all smiling at her dad who’d been taking the picture—but it was just as well he wasn’t in the photo now. To the left was a small bookshelf with even more books on it. More than a few of them had dragons in them and what the hell did they know! To the right was a floor-length mirror so she could check herself over before going out. A framed Fast and the Furious poster Sammy’d given her was on one wall in lieu of any real art. Sammy had pried it off her own bedroom wall to give to her when Josh had bailed because she needed better men—like Vin Diesel and the Rock—in her life, even if they were unattainable, except for in her imagination.

  And thinking of imaginary things—the wheels that’d been propelling her forward fell off, and her mind started to spiral.

  Everything Grand Auntie Kim had told her was true! He’d seen her naked—and she’d seen him naked—and she’d seen him with wings and scales because he was a dragon! A freaking dragon!

  The knowledge of what he was and what had happened had been bouncing around inside her head like a pinball ever since she’d woken up inside his car. He’d saved her life—more than once—but he was a dragon, a dragon, a dragon! Some primal, frightened part of her kept shouting. But he didn’t look like one just minutes ago—completely human and covered in the same mess she was—although somehow, he’d worn it better, which was completely unfair.

  What would Auntie Kim say now, if she were still alive? Why were there never girls in cars with dragons in any of Auntie Kim’s fables?

  Could you still call them fables if they were real?

  Andi opened a desk drawer, shoving a few pairs of glasses in multiple sizes and colors over and tossed the envelope of cash alongside them. Then she carefully stripped far away from her bed. She was guessing that the blue stuff wasn’t poisonous, especially seeing as Damian had had so much on him, but she had no idea what it’d do to her washing machine. She should have asked him what was more appropriate—ritually burning her clothes or just throwing them in the trash.

  But it didn’t matter now because she could afford to buy new things—thanks to Damian.

  She hadn’t looked into the envelope, but she was sure it was full of hundreds—months’ worth of scamming for overtime shifts for her, but nothing to him. Just money he’d found between his couch cushions; in his “castle” there were a lot of couches.

  In the ordinariness of her room, his life seemed utterly impossible.

  Andi went to rub her temple and caught herself in time. She desperately had to get clean.

  For a slightly higher portion of the rent, she had the privilege of her own attached bathroom, and she went into it quickly, stepping into the tub and pulling the glass door closed. She turned the shower to maximum heat, knowing it’d take half of her shower for it to even warm up the way the pipes here worked. She went through half a bar of soap, lathering every part of her body, and then took her time scrubbing at her scalp and hair until she was sure it was clean. The entire time only one thought echoed in her exhausted mind: what on earth could someone like him want with me?

  Is that what Mom thought when she first met Dad? Her mother had been a true romantic. She’d never met a Hallmark movie she didn’t like, plus she’d been raised super sheltered. Which was why she’d fallen for all of their dad’s lines—hook, line, and sinker. Even after she’d found out about the other family. His real family. Because it turned out she and Danny and her mom were the extra ones, which explained why he was mostly away on “business trips” when they were growing up. Her mother’d spent half their childhood covering for him, waiting for him to wise up and choose their family at long last, and it’d never happened. And once his other family figured out what he was up to, she’d made him give them up.

  Andi would’ve liked to pretend that that part gave him pause—that he’d actually tried to fight for them—except she knew that wasn’t true.

  Mostly.

  He did fight—but just for Danny.

  Danny could carry on the family name. Seemed her dad’s “real” wife had never given him a son. So, they offered Danny a place in the family; it would have meant skiing in Europe, summers in the Mediterranean, and fancy European boarding school like all the other super rich kids of Asia.

  Danny’d torn up the letter on the spot, thrown it into the trash can, and spit after it—she could still see him doing that now in her mind, bright and clear—and it was the only reason she still put up with all of his bullshit.

  Because he could’ve gone too, but he chose to stay.

  Andi breathed in deep the steam of the shower and stepped on the tub’s plug, sealing it up before turning the faucet on, catching all of the now hot water for her to soak in.

  So, what did a dragon want with her?

  When she’d woken in Damian’s car, her first thought had been to escape, yes, when the wave of panic and memories of everything that’d happened hit. But she’d stopped herself. Why?

  Because she knew if she got out, she’d be left with more questions than answers. And the longer she was with him, the more chances he might spill. She didn’t have Auntie Kim to ask things of anymore, after all. And as she inspected her motivations, she found she really didn’t want to go the rest of her life not knowing. It would be like going from the noontime sun back into a cave.

  She sank down into the hot water up to her chin, thinking hard.

  He’d been the first one to say “should” besides. To acknowledge that something more might even be possible—somehow!—between them.

  And if she were totally, completely honest, it had nothing to do with curiosity, or him helping her out with the mess Danny had gotten her into.

  It was him.

  He was…extraordinary. In all senses of the word. And for some reason, he’d spent three hours watching her sleep when he could’ve been doing literally anything else.

  Andi scrubbed at her face with her washcloth. Someone like Damian could buy and sell someone like her—with or without the dragon. So, it was stupid to think about him in any other context because rich assholes and disposable women was definitely a thing, and she’d sworn her whole life she’d never be l
ike her mother. But then there’d been Joshua—the techbro who’d talked a good game for eight months before telling her she was “too much to handle”—conveniently dumping her right before his company’s IPO, and now there was Damian.

  So, what made Damian different? Was he different? Other than just the dragon?

  Andi sank deeper into the tub, letting the heat soak in, remembering the way he’d looked at her in the pond. Intense, afraid for her, angry at himself—and unable to look away. Like he’d never seen anything like her before. More so after she’d saved his friend.

  Andi wanted him to look at her like that again—like whatever she was doing was important; like the next words that she might say were precious; like he wasn’t just seeing her but staring deep into her soul and understanding what he found there.

  She could still remember all the places he’d touched her skin as the water in her tub lapped at her. The way he’d caught her wrist in the parking lot just now—afraid she’d leave angry at him. And when he’d picked her up and carried her into his castle, pressing her against his naked chest—if only she could’ve just clung to him in the pool instead. Even if she had been somehow bewitched earlier, would she really have regretted it if he hadn’t stopped her in his bedroom? She remembered the way his hot hands had grabbed her underneath the fur coat, the way his tongue met hers with longing. She twisted to her side, pressing her cheek against the cold ceramic edge of the tub. Everything seemed so utterly impossible, but it didn’t have to be.

  All she had to do was text him.

  Andi glanced at her phone through the glass shower door. It was on her bathroom counter. Ever since Danny had stood her up at the courthouse, she’d been carrying it with her everywhere like a little girl with a dolly—volume up, vibration on.