by Starla Night
“I like it,” Mal said.
She flushed hot and cold from pride. They liked her silly drawing.
Her professors and classmates said the silly ones would never make her any money and were a waste of time. That was the whole reason she was behind on her final portfolio. She could draw thirty cute things a day but she couldn’t draw three “serious” advertising pieces to complete her portfolio.
These dragons didn’t know any better. That made her secretly happy. But it could hurt their business.
She had to tell them it was a joke.
“It is entirely different.” Alex stroked his flawless chin. “There are more colors. It would be expensive as a brand.”
“Expensive is good. We don’t want to appear cheap.”
Cheryl cleared her throat. “Um…”
They both looked at her.
She broke out in a sweat. Her hoodie felt sticky in all the wrong places.
“What?” Mal demanded. Gruff, intense, and focused on her. It made her hot in a different way than the embarrassment of speaking up in front of Alex.
She forced the words out. “That one’s a joke.”
“A joke?” He considered her logos again and nodded. “Ah. I see. Human humor.”
Alex also nodded. “We would rather trade with smiles than with daggers.”
But something dangerous in his expression silently added, “For now.”
She shivered.
“Very well,” Mal said, entirely straightforward and showing none of Alex’s second meanings. “The fourth one is our logo. We’ll print it on everything. At least a million copies.”
“I mean.” She set down the sweet coffee mug so she could twist her sweaty palms. “It’s not supposed to be taken seriously.”
“Yes, good.” He frowned at his own fists. “In some situations, forcefulness causes problems.”
“Humor is disarming,” Alex agreed.
Oh god, they were both going to settle on a cutesy dragon with a placard as their company logo. “Wait! Ask for more opinions.”
“You’re a human. You created this logo.”
“But I’m not, uh, average. Ask another person.”
Mal circled the fourth. “I’m satisfied with your work. You always exceed expectations.”
She flushed hot and cold again. Tears burned behind her eyes. He was the only one satisfied with her work. She was going to fall in love with him even harder.
Alex tilted his head. “Cheryl, you are upset.”
She hid her eyes behind her hand. “No, I’m fine.”
“Mal, Cheryl’s upset.”
“She said she’s fine.” He took her at her word, respecting her without looking up from his notations. “A million copies…”
Alex leaned forward. “Still, the idea of a test audience is not bad. We conduct them on Draconis before launching our products. We should do so before launching our logo.”
“I want this logo done tonight so I can open negotiations in the morning.”
“Mal. We are supposed to take over your responsibilities.”
His eyes glowed malachite-green and his lips peeled back from his white teeth.
Alex tensed.
Mal’s hard body vibrated with rage. “I run this company.”
The two dragons faced each other. Mal clenched his fists, pure dominant male crackling with power. Alex’s nostrils flared, and he placed his palms on the table.
The air grew so tense it felt like a string was about to snap.
Cheryl shifted in her seat. This was between the two of them. The dragons rarely did more than posture. Especially the guys. Only Amber had ever snapped.
Alex’s charming smile emerged like a shield and his tone softened, apologetic. “That is why we all depend on you to ensure there remains a company to run.”
Mal blinked. His rage turned away from Alex, toward something that Cheryl couldn’t see, and he snarled his fury at the thick carpet. “Damn them.”
Alex’s shoulders relaxed halfway. Alert, but no longer prepared for a fight. “We will have a company, Mal.”
Mal’s fingers flexed to claws and back to human hands. The scales shimmered green and his nails lengthened and receded like the blades of the X-Men character Wolverine. He fought to control himself.
This must be about their arch rivals. Carnelian Clothiers.
There were five or six dragon families living on Earth, but only one family had copied Mal’s idea and specialized in clothes. They must be doing something underhanded to keep beating Mal.
She wanted to get up and put her arms around Mal, stroke those shimmery scales and vibrating muscles, and tell him that everything would be fine. It would be fine because he would work tirelessly. His hard work and passion would be rewarded.
And then, while she was stroking his scales on his hands, she’d continue on up his hard forearms to his bulging, lickable biceps, and—
“A test audience. Fine.” Mal stalked to the office door and screamed down the hall. “Jeanine? Darcy? Rose? Get in here!”
Jeanine, their front desk receptionist, arrived first. She was in her early fifties, a heavy smoker, and a retiree of the State Department who’d been held hostage in foreign embassies more times than she could count. She’d once assured Cheryl that these flying, fire-breathing, monster aliens were not the scariest people she’d ever worked for; not by a long shot.
Darcy and Rose crowded behind her.
Jeanine asked flatly, “What do you want?”
Mal gestured at the four logos. “Which one?”
Jeanine raised an unimpressed brow. “Which one what?”
“Which is the friendliest?” Mal barked. “The most disarming?”
Jeanine studied the logo samples for less than a second. “The last one. Is that all?”
“That is all.”
She left.
Ugh. No. Mal was asking all the wrong questions. Cheryl clenched her hoodie.
“Darcy? Answer!”
The tall, stylish man noted Cheryl’s discomfort. He was in his late thirties, liked wearing suits with the sleeves rolled up, and also seemed to enjoy playing with fire. At least, he was the only male in the entire company who wasn’t at all afraid of Amber.
Cheryl also didn’t know what Darcy did at the company. Wasn’t he the CEO of a clothing manufacturer in Portland? He was around often enough that Mal shouted for him like a real employee.
His winning smile flashed. “Perhaps you can give us a little more context?”
“We want to make others feel comfortable with our intergalactic distribution of their products.”
“And this artwork is?”
“The way we will signal our intentions.”
Darcy’s thoughtful lower lip pushed out, and he considered the logos. “Well, the first three are serious company logos. The fourth little guy is just cute.”
Cheryl wrung the fabric between her hands.
“Cute,” Mal repeated.
“You know. Endearing.”
Alex noted Darcy’s answer next to Jeanine’s. “Endearing means to give a warm feeling.”
“I know its meaning,” Mal snapped. “Rose?”
The daytime cleaning lady hugged her elbows with her rubber glove-clad hands. She didn’t like having the boss spotlight on her any more than Cheryl did. Rose jerked her chin at Darcy. “What they said.”
“Very well. Go.”
They left, closing his office door behind them.
Mal and Alex compared the results. “Three opinions in favor. We’re going with the full-color dragon with a placard. Cheryl, make a clean version to resize.”
She gathered her materials. A cutesy dragon with a placard would appear next to the Nike swoosh, the Starbucks mermaid, and a million other powerful brands.
Maybe she could fix this. His company couldn’t collapse because of her mistake.
There were a few hours left in her internship today. As much as she loved her little dragon, everyone in the art world kne
w it was stupid.
She’d stay late, present Mal with a more professional design, and insist he use it. If she insisted, he would listen to her.
Her final portfolio would have to wait.
Who needed to graduate?
Chapter Three
Mal sat behind his desk and ticked the checklist in his brain.
Flint had researched that the Chinese exchanged business cards. Jasper had never ordered any because the logo wasn’t finalized and other priorities took precedence.
Well, now it was the priority. Thanks to Cheryl, their logo was accomplished and tested. Business cards would be printed. It was time to call China.
Mal opened the manila folder full of contact information.
Alex, who had remained in his office after Mal released Cheryl, pulled the folder from his hand. “I’ll call.”
Rage welled up in Mal. His empty hands flexed for the folder. This was his company. “It can’t wait.”
“It will wait.” His younger brother steeled himself. “We must solve the wife problem first.”
Mal roared.
Alex dropped his chin and bore the brunt of Mal’s frustration.
Mal slammed his fist into the desk, upsetting an empty coffee mug. It rolled off the top and bounced on the carpet.
Alex’s skin shimmered to lavender and turquoise as he fought his own defensive reaction. As an obedient younger brother, he endured his elder’s tantrum. His eyes flashed with anger. But he remained cool and silent.
Pyro would not have endured Mal’s juvenile display. He would have roared at Mal to be an honorable dragon.
That thought stopped Mal. He cut off his rage with a snarl.
This wasn’t his company. This company belonged to all of them. Sleep deprivation hurt his head.
Alex sucked in a hard breath and regained control of his colors. He straightened his perfect collar and smoothed the creases of his flawless jacket. The second-youngest Onyx sibling had more patience than Mal deserved.
“Very well.” Mal stood and paced in front of his desk. “Where does one find a wife?”
“I have researched this.” With relief, Alex turned on the wall screen and began his Power point presentation. “On Earth, potential mates find each other in many ways.”
Pictures of park benches, sandy beaches, and couples walking dogs appeared on the screen.
“Once found, these mates look into each other’s eyes and know the other is ‘the one.’”
Mal grunted. On Draconis, it was more common for the female to spray her chosen mate with lustful hormones. Then any nearby males would be instantly driven into the mating frenzy.
Human eyes must have some mesmerizing power. Perhaps hypnosis? He would carefully watch for it.
“Then,” Alex continued, “the male proposes—”
“The male proposes?”
“Yes.” Alex hesitated. “The female can propose, but it is rarer.”
Everything just got much harder. Mal scrubbed his face. “How does the male prevent an uninterested female from becoming enraged and gnawing his arm off?”
“Humans lack frontal incisors.” Alex tapped his flat, human-form teeth. “However, you will need to exercise caution.”
Both dragons chewed on their situation for a long moment. Although they had crossed solar systems and built a billion-coin company, they were shockingly unprepared for this event.
When they left their scattered places in the Outer Rim, no female dragon would have ever selected the poor, low caste males for her partner. Now Empress Horribus wanted Mal for a husband. How things had changed.
Alex cleared his throat. “There is, luckily, an organization called a ‘dating site’ where mate-ready women gather.”
Oh, good. “Excellent research.”
“Flint found it for us.”
“You were able to contact him?”
“Kyan did.”
As a former special operations agent and mercenary, Kyan had access to technology and contacts that none of the rest of them did.
And Flint was… well, he was Flint.
As the youngest and oddest of the Onyx siblings, Flint regarded the world with gray eyes both all-knowing and weary. He joined Mal because he said it would have no lasting impact on his life; this business idea would end in pain within five years. Mal had challenged his intelligence by promising to prove him wrong. Instead, like most of the strange predictions Flint made from his hidden lair, it was about to be proved right.
No. Mal would thwart this fate.
Alex brought up an internet browser. “I started an account. You must complete these questions. One: What is your ideal day?”
“The day we emerge triumphant over the Carnelians.”
Alex typed in the answer. “Two: What are your qualities, such as strengths and weaknesses?”
How easy. “My strength is lifting fourteen tons, and my weakness is lifting only two tons with my wing bone fingers.”
Alex’s lips pursed. He was impressed with Mal’s honesty. But only a clear-eyed view of his true strength and weakness could let him run a successful company, so the woman he married also had to know.
“Three: What qualities do you desire in a woman?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
Alex studied it. He also had no idea what it was asking, so they reviewed the answers of other males on the site. “Age, hair color, and other physical descriptors of the female. Also her interests and specializations.”
Huh.
“I have no preference,” he said. Males didn’t prefer females. They went crazy with lust or stayed out of the way.
“The answer is required to proceed.”
Mal leaned back in his chair and tossed out the first words he could imagine to describe attractive females. “Beautiful, kind, unlikely to bite off a male’s snout… Quiet, and peaceful, and also shy.”
Alex typed.
An image formed in Mal’s head, and he described her. “She blushes when she speaks. But everything she says is on target. No wasted words. And she’s always working, always drawing her pictures.”
“Like Cheryl?” Alex suggested.
“Yes. With wavy brown hair that comes down to here.” He indicated his shoulder.
“Also like Cheryl.”
“It makes you want to stroke her. And sparkling brown eyes as though she knows a secret you haven’t figured out.”
And she was soft. Squeezable. His hands palmed the ghostly image of her curves, hugged by the ample jeans and dark, secretive hoodie.
Thinking about Cheryl made a kick in his taut belly and a humming in his blood. It demanded action.
He surged to his feet.
“That finishes the profile,” Alex said. “Now to meet—”
“Forget the profile. I figured out a faster solution.” Mal stormed to the door and threw it open. “Alex, out. Cheryl? Get back in here!”
Chapter Four
Mal’s voice roared across the office floor, summoning her back to his office.
Cheryl jumped to her feet. Her chair rolled away with the force of her leap. Was it time to turn in the final logo already? Her redesign sketches were barely past the idea stage.
She gathered what she had, walked around her desk, and headed down the corridor to his office.
Mal waited in the doorway. He studied her intently as she approached. Usually, he was already looking past her to yell for someone else, but this time, his focus intensified on her.
That was odd.
“What is it?” she asked.
“We’re getting married,” he said.
She came to a dead stop in front of him. He was looking at her so seriously that it almost made her blurt, We? We, who? As if he might mean her.
Ha ha. Him and her? No.
Had her ongoing fantasies clouded her brain? Too much exposure to super hot dragon shifters caused her to hallucinate? Or was it all the weeks of no sleep preparing for her finals?
Of course he meant
“we” as in him and some other hot, sexy model he expected her to know about, even though she’d never seen him with any female besides the employees. And he treated all of them with the same preoccupied gruffness as he treated her.
He was married to the company. That’s what she would have said if anyone asked.
But now, he was marrying a real person.
He gestured for her to get into his office. “In. Now.”
Cheryl squeezed past the electrifying dragon shifter and entered his office. His announcement echoed in her ears as she headed to her customary seat at the conference table.
What was she doing? Designing the wedding invitations?
“No, come to my desk.”
She rose, followed him over to the ginormous mahogany desk that looked straight out of a 50s Madison Avenue set, and sat. The leather seat cupped her buttocks. She faced him.
Mal stood framed against a wall of glass. A door was cut into it. The dragon shifters all had doors to an inside, glass-encased, elevator-less shaft they used to shoot up to the roof. Like you do when you can fly.
Mal rested his fists on the desk and leaned over at her. “Are you currently married?”
She sat up straight and gripped her tablet in both hands. “No.”
“Are you capable of mating?”
Mating? Her hoodie suddenly felt too hot and tight. Every time she looked at him, she was extremely capable. “Uh… what do you mean?”
“Do you desire sex for the purpose of producing dragonlets?”
Sex. Dragonlets. That was what they called their babies.
Oh god.
He knew. All those times she’d been watching him. Eating him up. Stalking him in her mind. All those times she’d brushed against him and thought he would never notice. He had noticed.
Hard shivers ran down her sides. How had this happened? She was quiet, she dressed like she hated her body, and she slipped unnoticed from class to the internship and home again in an infinite, boring cycle of deadlines that didn’t even matter. Except, of course, her final portfolio that would determine whether she graduated with job offers or starved in the street.
He had looked into her mind and read her fantasies. Her whole body pulsed, hot, as though he had opened her innermost secret diary and begun reading the pages. What else did he know?
