She came within a few strides of where he and Nina stood to speak with another huddled pack. A whiff of the most exotic scent mixed with a spike of natural pheromones captured his sensory perception. His heightened Dragon sense of smell perception confirmed another intimate fact. She was on her cycle. Menstruating and pregnant females oozed pheromonal delights. Her specific scent made his cock ache with resurrected desire
Colson didn’t try to stop his medically trained mind from performing quick calculations of what his Dragon already surmised. The speaker would be in full ovulation in a couple of weeks give or take.
Plenty of time to win her over and mate.
He forcibly shoved the primal thought out of his mind and concentrated on remaining detached. Ms. Patterson was here on business. He wouldn’t allow himself to degrade to a brute over a few whiffs of the most addictive scent of a woman he’d ever encountered. He was a gentleman. Plus, navigating male-female relationships had only grown more difficult in the current social climate.
It was best that he kept his mind focused on getting out of here as soon as possible. He made a mental pact with himself to steer clear of the vixen.
Still…
Colson’s Dragon rumbled with awakened interest. He was near the speaker and knew. She was the cause of his Dragon’s attentiveness.
Nothing was more attractive to his Dragon than a voluptuous woman with an air of personal acceptance. This Miss Patterson appeared to know who she was and how to make moves to achieve what she wanted. Couple this with her impending heightened fertility and he was hopelessly drunk on her presence.
He didn’t hesitate to eavesdrop on the nearby conversation. Her voice drew him in with its raspy richness. Not too high or low, Sabra’s voice held energetic purpose and poise. She spoke in clear, declarations. Her words were common but assembled in a manner that infused intrigue to hear more.
When her laugh teased him to come closer, Colson willed the temptress to move on. As if obeying his command, she ended the chat and made her way to another group in the opposite direction of the room.
Interesting…
From where he and the good doctor stood in proximity to her new location, Colson was able to observe Sabra incognito. Instead of waiting to be introduced around the room, the young lady worked the crowd. Her smile was open. He liked how the deep dimples pierced her cheeks when she smiled.
It was a shame he’d meet her here. It was the principle of the matter. Give Nina the slightest encouragement of her antics, and none of the single Dragons would be safe. No, this beautiful woman would remain a vision to be cherished in his memory. Plus, he was a single father of a rambunctious five-year-old. The same five-year-old who showed definite signs that she was about to come into her Dragonling soon.
“Are you paying attention to anything I’m saying?” the older woman asked with a delighted chuckle.
“What?” He’d been caught with no way to recoup. “Ah, yes, I am caught, soundly and sure.”
Nina followed his line of sight to take in the movements of the beauty. “Yes, she is lovely, isn’t she?”
When Nina added nothing else, he took the bait Colson was sure dangled over his head. “And?”
“And, nothing.”
“Come on, Nina. Why her and not one of your usual stuffy speakers? You’re up to something,” he finished with a confident nod.
“That I am, Colson,” she added a bit of fire to pronouncing his name in a matriarchal warning. When he acknowledged the correction, she hmphed and continued. “Sabra Patterson is a local resident who graduated from SCAD in Savannah almost eight years ago.”
His internal calculations from her graduation date put her at enough years to be around Bronwyn’s age.
That wasn’t too young. Colson shook the thought away and forced himself to pay attention to Nina’s droning on.
“I remember her from my time down there. She has something special,” Nina placed emphasis on the special. “I’ve been watching her career since she’s been in Atlanta. I think it’s time that she explores all the possibilities available to her.”
Colson caught the hint and decided to nip this in the bud.
He opened his mouth to protest when Nina added, “She’s at a career change, and I want her to meet Petrov to expand her horizons. She never really embraced her gift and training from the college, and he would be a great resource.” Nina paused to take a sip of her wine before adding, “After tonight, her entire trajectory could change.”
“Petrov? That brute? Are you kidding me?” The words were out of his mouth before they registered with his brain.
“No, I am not,” golden Dragoness eyes flashed a dangerous but polite warning to keep his voice down. “She’s a Nose, and I want her to have a chance to develop her gift and business.”
“A what?” he couldn’t resist asking what the weird classification meant.
“Oh, pardon me. A Nose is a gifted perfume artisan. The common term is perfumer. She’s got the trifecta—talent, skill, and passion. I want her to have the best opportunity to succeed by providing the patronage.”
“How so?” Colson hated how desperate he was to learn the details of Nina’s scheme. “Why Petrov, of all—people—then?”
“Because he’s always willing to invest in promising talent like hers.”
“I’ll bet he is,” Colson’s voice rattled with annoyance. “That piece of Euro-snobbery has done nothing for the reputation of our community here in Georgia.”
“Only his mother is Danish. You know as well as anyone that he was born and raised in Tennessee.”
“That explains his ways.”
“No, you’re the one showing his—ways,” the older woman said through a tight smile.
Colson couldn’t stop the anger from boiling at the thought of Petrov anywhere near the evening’s speaker, and he didn’t care to either. “Nina, you of all people should know better. He’s only interested in feeding his insatiable ego with adoring young fans. When he’s done with them, they’re unable to go back to a normal human existence, and no one in the community wants to take on his emotionally-drained refuse.”
“Stop being so dramatic, young one,” she warned. “Sabra isn’t like that. Can’t you see how strong her spirit is? He would only be her patron benefactor. You and I know Petrov isn’t able to provide any tutelage in the arts. He’s a loyal supporter of the arts I can depend on, though, unlike… others.” Colson didn’t miss the jab at his lack of support of her causes. “Plus, I wouldn’t be able to influence her romantic leanings—even if I tried.” Nina nodded toward Sabra. “That young lady was always grounded and focused. Of the little group of three friends she was in back then, I always knew that if she ever needed a boost, there would be no hesitation on my part.”
Colson looked at Nina to scan deeper. “I don’t get it. Nina, why her?” was all he could come up with when no deceptive energy could be detected.
“If you’re finished rudely scanning me, I’ll say that she and her two little friends were different than the other students. Each had a unique gift that was ripe and ready to be trained and perfected. I sensed that she felt like the least of them. Sure, the other two had looks more appealing to the general human population, but her essence was always so pure and powerful. Can’t you sense it like I do?”
“Of course, I can,” he spoke a little louder than he wanted, “but you’re going about this the wrong way. That young lady deserves the right to pick her destiny. You meddle too much, Nina. One of these days your antics are going to backfire on you.”
“So you say,” her voice trailed off as she walked away to mingle with the crowd.
The older Dragoness had set him up. She played her cards as soon as he arrived by talking up the speaker and then setting the trap.
* * *
Colson pushed back from the table as the server removed his plate of partially finished food.
“This is why I humbly appeal to your better angels to financially support the ongoi
ng work of SCAD,” the dark beauty said from the podium.
Colson glanced down at the donation authorization app on his phone Nina had provided for tonight. Looking at it often had been a way for him to not stare at the woman giving the speech.
He’d managed to artfully dodge meeting her earlier. That had been one of his less brilliant ideas. Self-denial worsened this odd predicament Colson found himself in. His Dragon wouldn’t back down. Over and over the encompassing drive to mate with her was all that came through.
Mine… mine… mine…
As the speaker’s voice floated through the air to tempt him, Colson burrowed holes into the phone’s app interface. He punched more than tapped the figure in of one hundred fifty thousand dollars.
I’ve got your investment into promising talent right here.
Colson fought the infernal agitation that mounted with each passing minute. The experience was new and startling. Never had he wanted his way about something—no someone—so much before.
Colson’s pride revolved around his subtle assertion of Dragon essence. Unlike his cousins, he didn’t take the brute force approach. Colson figured himself more of a finesse type of Dragon.
Now, this. He couldn’t stand it. Mac’s behavior when Bronwyn showed up finally made all the sense in the world.
The illumined button for the donation amount flashed and glared at him.
She deserves all the best. The best sure as shit isn’t that smug Petrov either, he reasoned, oblivious to his surroundings.
Colson backspaced the amount and re-entered his donation amount. The smile that spread across his face was big enough for him to know he’d done what pleased both him and his Dragon.
The new amount of three hundred thousand dollars settled his soul a bit, but just a bit. At least he’d get a kick out of shocking the hell out of Nina and his CPA with this little doozy.
To ensure his wishes were followed, Colson wrote in the note section for two hundred thousand of his donation to become the sole patronage grant for Sabra Patterson—anonymously, of course.
His patronage award of two-hundred thousand dollars was only valid as a solo assistance to the grantee. More grants and patronages could be combined provided that they did not require Miss Patterson to work for or with any members of the granting factions or school administration. Any grant(s) with such requirements would nullify his grant and cause the retraction of the entire award amount—including the one-hundred-thousand-dollar gift to the school.
There, that should keep Nina off his back for years; and Petrov away from Sabra to boot. Colson didn’t care that he might be perceived as controlling of monies earmarked for Miss Patterson. Hell, he was a Dragon, and that was what Dragons did.
He wasn’t stupid either. Beside Petrov and himself, Colson spotted two other eligible male Dragons in the dinner party. Dragon’s he’d seen Nina schmoozing up to as well.
Damn, that was sneaky of her, but his sole patronage grant should do the trick.
He navigated through the rest of the app, submitted his payment information and closed it. Colson looked up in time to meet Sabra’s eyes as she scanned the room during her talk. When their eyes locked, she stumbled over a few words. Her eyes widened ever so slightly at the connection.
She managed to swiftly cover the misstep and finished her speech.
What she spoke of he hadn’t a clue, but the rest of the roomed seemed to be entertained as they made light chuckles. His efforts centered on keeping his Dragon’s growing interest subdued.
Colson couldn’t help but track her movements as she left the podium and moved toward her seat. He refused to look away as one of Nina’s minions approached and guided her in the direction of… Petrov. That jerk must be holed up in a smaller meeting room, lying in wait. Petrov’s lust had no shame.
That was it. Not today, not ever.
Colson was on his feet and walking toward the back of the room as Nina’s voice addressing the attendees trailed off behind him.
To hell with this dinner. His Dragon would claim his greatest treasure—now!
7
Bria
“Please follow me this way, Miss Patterson,” Doctor Hassenberg’s slender, lanky assistant, Jon said.
Even in her four-inch heels, Jon wasn’t short. Based on the shoe heel adjustment, she put him at close to six feet tall to her average five foot five inches. He had her by at least half a foot. That was the only advantage he sported. Sabra more than evened out their stats with her ample body. Dripping wet he might make up half of her mass. She had to acknowledge that they made for a comical sight of opposites. Jon seemed undeterred by anything but his job, though.
He spoke in hushed tones to her and then into an attached mic on the side of his face as the doctor gave final remarks at the front of the room.
Once again, she had to push past the mist of nervous energy he projected. Contrary to how off-putting his odd, meager appearance was in person, Jon had been a life-saver the entire event.
Like now.
He’d caught up with her to assist with her next actions. That was a nice touch. Sabra didn’t want to harp on how he’d stopped her before she could beat a path to the exit at the back of the room and back to her office.
10: 55 p.m.
The flash of digital numbers on her smartwatch worked in tandem with a haptic vibrating alarm against her wrist. It was time to get back to work. The smartwatch went everywhere with her. Tonight, she’d changed out the standard band for an iridescent burgundy one to match her dress. The watch might look fancy, but it still did its job to let her know it was time to make a beeline back to the studio to pack up. She’d done the speech, they’d paid, and now an all-nighter of packing was her next stop. Twenty-five thousand dollars would be enough to help her restart—this time in her true calling as a perfumer.
“Miss Patterson, you gave an excellent talk. Doctor Hassenberg made the right choice in having you as our speaker.”
Her ego lapped this up without shame, “You think so?”
Without warning, he leaned in as if sharing a big secret. “Yes, of course, I do. These donor dinners are usually very stuffy. You got them to laugh.”
Dang, it! Her mouth had been open when he’d done that. Sabra didn’t want to laugh now. She wanted to cough and spit. Instead, she tried to hold her breath until he righted himself and surrendered her personal space.
“Thank you, for the feedback. Much appreciated,” was her mumbled response. She’d need a big gulp of fresh air to regain her normal lung capacity and exhibit more than that meager reply.
Stop being an ingrate. Sabra snatched a breath of air in that didn’t have Jon’s lingering reek peppering it. This guy has been a godsend. He’s the reason why I have twenty-five thousand dollars confirmed in my bank account. I will act like I have some manners. Be kind and accommodating, she reminded herself.
The personal chastisement was appropriate. True to his word, Jon had been a great resource to help her get through the evening. Even now he worked to assist and help her transition from the ordeal of public speaking. It was sad that his presence and appearance didn’t live up to her earlier fantasies.
Sabra acknowledged her shallowness when it came to physical attraction. He just wasn’t her type. Jon’s hair was a stringy, greasy mess, and his hands—forget about it. Hair and hands where big attractions to her. She’d made her living beautifying hair and appearance for the last seven years. Considering how Jon’s dull hair snaked down his neck in flaccid repose, there was no way Sabra would be able to refrain from doing a sneak attack shampoo-deep conditioner-haircut drive by.
Yep, from her side of the equation, the chemistry between them resembled bug repellent more than attraction. She didn’t even care if he felt the same about her. If he did, Jon showed no signs of it. He was ultra-professional and accommodating. She’d attempt to do the same. Despite that, whenever he came close, instinct made her want to go the other way—far away.
Just a quick tidy up around th
e ears and sideburns would make a world of difference. Maybe an exfoliating mask might help too? Why couldn’t he be as sexy in person as he was over the phone?
She stopped herself from making any expressions that might give away her runaway thoughts. Sabra could let the poorly groomed nails slide, but his hair? That was a different matter. Her father, God rest his soul, had taught her that the crazy always showed itself in the hair.
Then there was his overall state of unkempt. Was Doctor Hassenberg a taskmaster? This guy looked to be a half-step away from emotional collapse. Sabra found herself wanting to reassure him that everything he did was great.
Poor thing. He’s doing the best he can, I suppose… Snap out of it!
Tonight wasn’t about hunting for a date. This was a job—that she’d successfully completed. A few more niceties and she’d be on her way.
She stole another assessing look at the sallow skin and overall blandness of the man, looking for any redeeming qualities.
And that would be a big, fat, zilch.
Enough with this.
Sabra had to stop trying to make Tilar’s reading fit into her life. No man was coming to shake things up or save any part of a day. She would continue to walk amongst society as the forgotten woman that she was. Desperation made one last push before giving up the ghost, though.
Jon is kind and patient. Don’t cross him off just yet.
She unleashed a grateful smile his way and was smacked down at the sight of them—them being those mangled things attached to his hands. His fingers were worse with this second look. They resembled the aftermath of a meat grinder.
WTF? Who hurt you, Jon? Who hurt you so?
Self-esteem always poked its head out through the grooming. If a man couldn’t keep himself groomed enough to be presentable, that was a problem. He fished a stylist out of its hidden slot and wrote something on the digital tablet that was more like an appendage. She fought not to visibly recoil when she caught another glimpse of his gnarly fingers. The poor man had eaten his fingernails down to nubs, and the cuticles were worse. The state of his fingers was more appalling than mere nail biting. The skill peeled and did weird things. The thought of him touching her bare skin produced what had to be a visible flinch.
Dragon’s Curvy Patient Page 7
