BLACK MOON DRAGON
Shelley Munro
Dragon Investigators #3
Table of Contents
Note To Readers
Introduction
1 – Fire
2 – Time for Plain Talking
3 – The Trespasser
4 – Captured
5 – The Investigation Begins
6 – The Truth About Dragons
7 – The Relic
8 – A Wrinkle Or Two
9 – The Power of the Moon
10 – The Past Rears Its Head
11 – An Intimate Encounter
12 – Danny Causes Chaos
13 – Sexy Times and Fun
14 – Time For Further Investigation
15 – A Flying Date
16 – The Cops Visit
17 - Accusations
18 – Preparing For The Worst
19 – Male Testosterone
20 – Jessalyn Lays Down The Law
Epilogue – The Wedding
Excerpt – My Estranged Lover
Excerpt – Kendall’s Mates
About Shelley
Other Books By Shelley
Copyright Page
Note To Readers
Some stories take a while to come together, and Black Moon Dragon was one of these stubborn ones. I started this story twice and cast it aside when the words didn’t flow. Then, one day everything clicked. Stupidly, I’d been trying to pair my heroine with the wrong hero. Once I grasped that fact, the story burst onto the page. Black Moon Dragon is the result.
This romance introduces more Maori culture than I’ve used in my New Zealand romances to date. In each instance, I’ve explained the meaning in context of the story. On the next page, you’ll find a glossary where I note the meanings of the words. I’ve also included a link to a Maori dictionary where you can hear the correct pronunciation.
For photos of the setting, check out my Pinterest page for the Dragon Investigators series.
If you would like to read more romances set in New Zealand, please subscribe to my newsletter. Along with news about releases, contests, and special promotions, you’ll receive a FREE copy of the Middlemarch Shifters prequel—My Scottish Lass. Learn how the Mitchell ancestors came to live in New Zealand.
I hope you enjoy Black Moon Dragon.
Happy reading,
Shelley
Glossary
Note: please click on the link for each word. This will take you to an online Maori dictionary. Click on the speaker icon beside the word to hear the proper pronunciation.
Taniwha – a dragon from Maori mythology. Some—water dragons—live in lakes, rivers or the sea. Legend says a taniwha lives at every bend of a river. Other taniwha are cave dwellers and have the ability to fly. Some are benevolent while others are mischievous tricksters or true villains.
Hone – Maori for John, and a very common Christian name.
Manu – Maori, meaning man of the birds or a person held in high esteem.
Kahurangi – Maori, meaning sky blue or precious.
Koru – A spiral pattern, inspired by native ferns. Denotes new beginnings.
Manaia – Another pattern used in carving. Denotes guardian.
Pakeha – A New Zealander of European descent.
Lake Taupo – A large lake in the middle of the North Island of New Zealand.
Ruru – a native owl, often called a morepork after the sound it makes.
Haka – a ceremonial dance. Often associated with war to stir passion for the coming battle. If you’re a rugby fan, you’ll see the haka performed by the All Blacks before each international game. Facial features can be contorted and tongue poked out as part of the rhythmic performance.
Tohunga – an expert in their chosen field.
Mana – a person’s prestige or influence. Their status.
Aotearoa – Maori name for New Zealand (Land of the Long White Cloud)
Te Papa – The museum of New Zealand, which is in Wellington.
Marae – an open courtyard where meetings take place. It can also mean a collection of buildings.
Powhiri – a traditional greeting to visitors entering a marae.
Piupiu – a garment made of flax. It also means to move, swing or sway, which is what the dried flax does when a piupiu is worn.
Taiaha – a long, spear-like weapon made of wood. These days used in ceremonial greetings.
Waiata – a song.
Koha – a gift.
Hongi – a traditional greeting where noses are pressed together.
L & P – Short for lemon and Paeroa. A New Zealand soda made in the town of Paeroa. It has a citrus taste.
Moko – traditional tattoos on the face.
Kauri – a native tree that was prized for building.
Totara – a native tree, which is popular for carving.
Rimu – a native tree with distinct red wood. Red pine.
Matai – a native tree. Black pine.
Introduction
A sacrifice for love has repercussions across the centuries.
After her father dies, Jessalyn Brown’s life is one drama after another, and now she has developed a mysterious and surely fatal disease. Either that or she’s turning crazy. Desperate for answers, she travels to the city, and that’s where her dilemmas become bigger and life-threatening.
In a deep depression after he executed his mother to keep dragons a secret from humans, Manu Taniwha’s life is full of petty squabbles and a noisy faction who demand he step down as the leader. Now a young woman is setting fires and threatening his leadership. He must execute her too, for the good of his people. Except when he meets her, he discovers she is his mate. She is the one person in this world who might make his life bearable.
Taniwha politics and secret-squirrel dragon stuff create roadblocks to a romance while the mystery of Jessalyn’s heritage is plain puzzling. The clock is ticking, and if Manu doesn’t get his act together, he’ll lose the perfect-for-him woman.
Contains a grumpy billionaire taniwha, mesmerizing tattoos, politics, and a strong, sassy woman who is about to burst out of her cocoon and kick dragon butt. Stand well back because her flames are hot!
1 – Fire!
Death. It hung over the house, somber and heavy, dampening even the summer sunshine. Final and life-changing for those left behind.
Devastating for her.
Jessalyn Brown sat on her father’s bedroom floor and leaned against his bed. Her hand trembled, rattling the sheet of paper she clutched.
Despair iced her veins and pressed against her chest. Despair sapped her confidence. For the first time since the funeral, tears slipped down her cheeks.
The citrus of her father’s favorite aftershave lingered while the loose change he’d tossed from his pockets littered the top of a dresser. The bureau was a piece he’d carved with his own hands as a teen, and the native kauri wood gleamed with the patina of age and layers of polish.
Jessalyn swallowed hard, inhaled to center her mind. At age two, she’d barely registered her mother’s death. In the passing years, her father told her bits and pieces about Humarie. He’d told her stories of how they’d met and fallen in love. He’d described her mother’s favorite colors, songs, hobbies, clothes, food, and everything else he could think of, but the woman remained surreal to Jessalyn.
Despite missing one parent, she hadn’t grown up lacking.
But now her father had died of a heart attack—his sudden passing unexpected for a man in his forties—and Jessalyn found herself going through the motions. Numb. Numb. So numb.
Yes, she had friends in the seaside village of Piha, but they weren’t her beloved father. They weren’t the man who’d single-handedly parented he
r. The man who’d encouraged her to be herself.
She sniffed, a faint smile curving her lips at a memory. He’d raised an unrepentant tomboy who thrived on sport and art and even worse—according to the local biddies—passed on his love of woodwork and carving. The truth—she’d tried ballet and hated it because her too-tall body stumbled around like a drunken giraffe, never in sync with the music. And the color pink—well, she’d learned it didn’t stand up to muddy explorations of the creek or the local bush.
Aware of the clock ticking, she fumbled for a handkerchief and, coming up empty, knuckled away the tears still blurring her vision. She blinked until the words on the paper came into focus. A letter from the bank stating the mortgage payment on her father’s house—now hers—was overdue. The bare basics—they understood Mr. Brown had died recently and held sympathy but they required payment by the end of the week.
Unbidden, her gaze ran over the polite words again. Perhaps she’d missed something—a ray of hope to show her a way out of her shock and confusion.
Dear Miss Brown,
We are sorry to hear of your father’s recent passing and extend our sympathies at this time. Unfortunately, our records reveal the current mortgage payment of $2341.75 is still unpaid. We appreciate this is a difficult time and as such, we are willing to defer this payment until 22 January. If we do not receive the payment by this date, we will foreclose on the property at 23 Karaka Lane, Piha.
Yours faithfully,
Harry Standish
Bank Manager
Nope, nothing had changed since her first reading. A mortgage. When had this happened? Why hadn’t her father told her? She and her father had discussed everything and anything, but not once had he mentioned a loan or the fact he’d signed away the house and land as security.
A glance at his latest bank statement reconfirmed her initial assessment. No insurance policy to make a claim on, and the funds in the business bank account fell short of the amount required to meet the payment. Far short. When his heart attack occurred, he’d had one big project underway, and he’d already received a hefty deposit for the bespoke bedroom suite. Jessalyn had banked the check herself. She flicked through several pages of bank statements. Although there were regular deposits, the outgoings far exceeded the income.
So where was the money? How had her father expected to meet this payment? As far as she’d known, the business was doing well with her father’s creations—big and small—in high demand.
She ran her finger down a column of a bank statement, pausing to tap on a direct debit payment. Who was this Cameron Holdings her father was paying a considerable amount of money to every month? She’d never heard of them. A quick internet search revealed nothing to enlighten her, and she nibbled her bottom lip, at a loss as to her next action.
Jessalyn glanced at her watch. Secrets. It was painfully obvious her father had kept things from her, and she needed answers. Today. She had time for a quick search of her father’s room before she’d promised to meet Danny. After their dinner, she’d start her shift at the local fish and chip shop.
She scrambled to her feet, did another quick swipe of her face and began a systematic examination of her father’s belongings. Might as well bag his clothes and the other items she wanted to send to the hospice charity store. She retreated to the garage and collected half a dozen black rubbish bags.
Back in her father’s bedroom, she started her quest by clearing the dresser drawers. She stuffed clothes into the bags and set aside papers and jewelry for later perusal. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to sort and pack her father’s possessions. With the drawers empty, she attacked the wardrobe. She dragged clothes off hangers and after searching pockets, jammed the shirts, trousers, and jackets into the bags destined for the charity shop. Nothing she discovered during her search answered her many, many questions.
She scanned the room, her gaze falling on the king-size bed with its gray-and-ruby coverlet. Ah! Of course. Her father had preferred a minimalist approach and had added extra storage beneath the bed. She peeled back the covers and stripped the bed to reveal the concealed drawers.
The first drawer contained photo albums, and she set them aside for later. The second held bulky winter sweaters, and the third a selection of T-shirts. Jessalyn puffed out a burst of frustration as she peered at the now-empty wooden drawer. Surely, there was something in the house to offer answers.
“Dad, why all the secrets? Why didn’t you tell me about the mortgage?” Her plaintive words echoed in the empty bedroom.
She shoved the drawer shut and stood, wincing at the stab of pain in her lower back. An old injury and one that niggled her when she became overtired. Too much bending and stooping. After a ginger stretch, she placed her hands in the small of her back and rose to her full height. It did nothing to rid her of the nagging ache pressing down on her body, her mind. Toting around boxes of frozen fries this evening might finish the job and cripple her when she couldn’t afford to take a sickie.
The drawer dimensions grabbed her attention as she crouched to slide the third drawer shut. Since her father had taught her woodworking skills when she was young, she’d developed an eye for proportions. The interior was shallow compared to the depth of the drawer. Curious, she ignored the throbbing ache in her back and plonked her butt on the floor.
Ah! A clever button at the back—flush with the rest of the wood. The casual observer might miss the significance. Not her. She pressed on it until a sharp click sounded over her rapid breaths. A pocket of wood loosened, and when she lifted it, she discovered a square wooden box. Her father’s favorite wood was kauri, although this had become increasingly rare and expensive. This box contained kauri, matai, and totara wood and bore exquisite workmanship, plus decorative carving on the middle panel.
Her fingers fumbled as she opened the box, and she gasped on seeing the key and the pendant inside. She had no idea what the key unlocked and set it aside. The pendant was old and reminded her of the jewelry the local Maori elders wore during special ceremonies. Round and made of bone. Likely whalebone if it truly was old. A craftsman had carved a greenstone or jade koru and somehow inset this into the face of the pendant. The round curling koru—symbolic of New Zealand’s native fern—represented new beginnings, growth, and regeneration. This one was unusual with its inlay and unlike any others she’d seen.
She traced the stylized twist and a gentle warmth crept up her finger. Startled, she gasped again, but strangely, the tenseness in her shoulders from overexertion and grief drifted away, and the sharp edges of pain eased. She never lost contact with the greenstone as her finger made a return journey.
The alarm of her watch buzzed, letting her know it was time to prepare for her pre-work dinner with her friend Danny Ngataki. Jessalyn ran her fingers over the pendant face one final time before closing the box and returning the key and pendant to its original hiding place. She’d have plenty of time to ponder the pendant and her next steps during her shift. It didn’t take concentration to fry baskets of battered fish and chunky fries. Before she slid the drawer shut, at the last minute, she grabbed several of the T-shirts she’d removed and stacked them inside. They’d done an excellent job of keeping the pendant concealed thus far so the hiding place should suffice for a bit longer.
Saturdays were busy at the Cheeky Parrot cafe and this one more so than usual. Jessalyn spotted Danny sitting at one of the outdoor tables.
“There she is,” he said to the waitress, his tone one of satisfaction and relief.
Mrs. Merryford, the oldest waitress, lived opposite the lifesaving club. She turned and scowled, her black penciled eyebrows drawing together in displeasure at Danny taking up a table while others waited. It was the same scowl she gave the man in charge of the lifeguards whenever they partied loudly, late at night. Jessalyn had witnessed one or two of Mrs. Merryford’s lectures and held a healthy respect for her temper.
“Mrs. Merryford, I’m sorry I’m late,” Jessalyn said, determined to head off
trouble. “I was clearing out Dad’s room and lost track of time.”
Not quite the truth but at least it made the stern lines on the waitress’s face soften.
“How are you getting on, dear?” Mrs. Merryford asked as she handed over menus.
Jessalyn gulped hard, and luckily the waitress took that as answer enough.
“The specials’ board is over there.” Mrs. Merryford pointed at the blackboard on the wall. “Would you like something to drink?”
“We’ll have two draft beers,” Danny said, aiming for charm now that their table was secure. His thick black hair flopped over his face, obscuring his brown eyes. He was darker in complexion than Jessalyn since both of his parents bore Maori blood. The girls their age flocked to him, tossing their hair and flirting.
Yet ever since primary school when they’d met at age five, she and Danny had been best friends. Despite the gossips’ hints, there was nothing sexual between them.
“We might as well order. I’ll have the rump steak with fries and Jessalyn will have the fish and chips.”
“Right you are,” Mrs. Merryford said as she reclaimed the menus. “There might be a wait.”
Jessalyn opened her mouth to protest Danny’s highhandedness at ordering for her and snapped it shut again. She’d enjoy the beer even if she preferred a glass of sparkling water, and the fish was always delicious, despite her recent craving for red meat. She’d hate to fight with Danny today. There was enough going on in her life without an argument about her best friend’s arrogance.
“What have you been doing today?”
“I went to rugby sign-ups with my cousins.”
“Already?” Jessalyn asked. “It’s still the middle of summer.”
“The Super Rugby competition starts this week,” Danny pointed out. “Our coach wants us to win our division this year instead of coming second. For an hour, he lectured us on match fitness. He’s given us individual training plans.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Anyone who slacks won’t get picked for the team,” Danny said. “There is a band playing at the pub tonight. Want to go?”
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