Gold (Date-A-Dragon Book 1)

by Terry Bolryder

  “We agreed to date human women, not whore for them,” Dante said. “And we only agreed to work with women if we felt they could be our mates.”

  “And how will you get a chance to know that if you chase them off?”

  “Adrien is chasing them off, not me,” Dante said. “But I imagine if any of them had been our mates, we would have known it. As I understand, it’s pretty instant.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Citrine muttered. “But it’s true. I’ve heard the same.” He leaned back in frustration, making the back of his chair creak. “What do you suggest?”

  Dante hesitated. “I admit I underestimated our appeal to human females, but it’s not as if we can shove them off. We’re gentlemen.”

  “So you have to shout at them?” Citrine said.

  “Only Adrien. And yes, perhaps he’s a little spoiled and doesn’t know how to restrain his temper. But you have to remember we were raised with everyone acting according to our whims. Adrien detests humans, for whatever reason. He always has. Even on pain of imprisonment, I’m not sure he’s going to change his feelings about them.”

  “I don’t want him to get locked up,” Citrine said, putting his head in his hands with a groan. “I don’t hate the guy. I sympathize with waking up in this world. Heaven knows I’ve been lost here, too.”

  “Why haven’t you found a mate?” Dante asked.

  Citrine’s warm, yellow-gold eyes darted up. “I don’t know. Not a priority,” he said. “And this isn’t about me. I’m not collared or restrained in any way.” He looked at Dante’s ring. “I have to say these are a huge improvement on the necklaces my friends had to wear. Much more discreet.”

  “Since we’re interacting with the public in a group, they have to be,” Dante said.

  “Look, can you at least talk to him?” Citrine asked, frustrated. “We can’t go on like this. He’s literally chasing women off. And that hurts your and Sever’s ability to find a mate.”

  I don’t want a mate, Dante almost blurted out, but he stopped. “I’ll talk to him.” What choice did he have? He kind of sympathized with Adrien and his discomfort with the handsy humans, some of which had no compunction about reaching for even groins or rears, thinking wrongly that men couldn’t be offended about such things.

  Or perhaps the dragons were so good looking that they obliterated all control the women had.

  Who knew?

  “Thank you,” Citrine said. But just as he was standing to shake Dante’s hand, there was a knock on the door. “Oh, right. I have an appointment. You may want to stay for this.”

  Two

  “What kind of appointment?” Dante asked, sitting back in the chair hesitantly.

  “This is interesting,” Citrine said, getting up to open the door. “A lady called me earlier, offering her business consulting services in exchange for hiring one of our dragons.”

  “How do you explain that name to humans again?”

  “Our men are so hot they’re almost mythical?”

  Dante wrinkled his nose but stayed in his seat as Citrine walked past him.

  “I’m Ella,” a woman’s voice said.

  “Hi,” Citrine replied, lowering his voice politely. “My name is Citrine, and this is Dante. I believe he is who you are interested in hiring?”

  Dante perked up at that. When he saw the woman at the door, he stood subconsciously, snapping to attention to get a better look.

  Despite her utterly unremarkable appearance, something about her almost instantly drew him.

  As the door opened and Citrine moved out of the way, Dante found himself face to face with one of the most unsettling women he’d ever met.

  Maybe ever.

  Her dark-brown eyes devoured his appearance as he took in hers. She was his opposite. Pale, short, curvy, her body tucked into a sharp, boxy suit that seemed tailored to hide her curves. Clunky shoes that did nothing for her legs, which were probably nice under that too-long skirt.

  Her hair made him tilt his head in confusion. It was hard to tell what it even looked like because it was tortured into a huge, tight, frizzy bun at the nape of her neck. So tight it seemed her face should be strained.

  But she wasn’t strained at all. She was all calm and coolness, even as her chocolate eyes lit on each part of his body in turn, making him heated and uncomfortable.

  Almost… predatory?

  But then her eyes moved to his and she put out a hand, stepping forward with a smile that could only be called businesslike and a tone that could only be described as brisk.

  “Dante, is it?” she asked coolly, shaking his hand firmly. She was strong for a round little thing. She walked past him to sit at the desk, and his eyes narrowed in consternation as she took his chair.

  Or was he just disturbed at how easily she passed him? No gasping, no frozen expression, no openly gaping in admiration or arousal. No attempts to grope him as she passed.

  Just a handshake and she was back to work.

  He suppressed a grumble as he pulled over another chair and plopped into it beside her. She gave him a quick look and a grin, letting her eyes dart over him once more, and then turned back to Citrine.

  She handed him a few pages of paper, stapled together, and began to talk to him about her plan as Dante sank into his chair, trying not to pout.

  What did he care if this businesslike little frump didn’t look at him like other women?

  Wasn’t that a good thing? Wasn’t he getting annoyed by all the over-the-top attention?

  Then why was he so irritated by the fact that he sort of wanted it from this woman and couldn’t get it?

  He could win over princesses. Why was he letting this little shrew get the better of him?

  She let out a laugh that was more like a cackle, totally unladylike, at something Citrine said, and Citrine smiled warmly at her, totally won over.

  Jealousy prickled through Dante.

  Mate.

  What?

  His brain must be misfiring due to the complete wound to his ego. That had to be it. He stood. “If you don’t need me here…”

  Citrine looked up at him as if he’d forgotten he was there. “I can handle this, Dante. You can go wait with Sever and Adrien. They should know about the appointment and be in there as well.”

  Dante nodded, pulling his eyes away from their fervent inspection of Ella’s body. He couldn’t make out exactly what she was smuggling under that suit, but he wanted to.

  He loosened his collar, forced himself to calm down, and went to wait with his team.

  Ella hoped it wasn’t obvious that her heart was pounding like crazy as she followed Citrine out of his office to the main club where she would meet the men.

  She’d already met one, and it had been almost too much for her hormones to handle.

  She’d never known a male could be so… male. It was as if the air all around him were saturated with his maleness, and his pure, masculine beauty made her want to fall at his feet.

  Sorcery.

  If she’d been any less than the totally unromantic woman she was, she might have succumbed.

  But she’d given up on men a long time ago, content to simply read about them or observe from afar. So she was pretty sure she could handle these beautiful creatures, pheromones or not.

  Citrine put his hand on the ornate, silvered handles of the huge, white double doors. “I hope they don’t scare you away.”

  “I’m not that easily frightened,” she said, waiting as he pulled the door open.

  She stepped inside the room, refusing to hesitate, and felt as if the world froze around her as she took in everything.

  The room was beautiful, a mix of modern and ornate. Everything in gray or white or silver, except the couches, which were black velvet. The tile was gleaming marble flecked with gold and silver that sparkled as she watched.

  Who had built such a beautiful place for them? Everything, from the crown molding to the elegant chandelier, was of the utmost workmanship.

 
She needed to get the name of the contractor so she could give a referral to other businesses.

  The lights were dimmed just enough to provide a feeling of relaxed elegance, but she could easily see well enough to make out the men in the room and feel comfortable talking with them.

  One of them, Adrien, was standing by the windows on the back wall, which looked over the sparkling cityscape. The windows were wide and spread along the entire back of the club, equally spaced and as tall as the ceiling.

  As she took in the breathtaking view of the darkening sky and the lights of the buildings, she was glad she’d scheduled to come in the evening.

  Then Adrien turned to look at her, silver eyes flashing, a coldness in his expression that hit her like a winter chill. “What are you looking at, woman?”

  She almost took a step back, then held her ground. Screw that. “You. Get over it.”

  Adrien’s whole face changed in surprise, almost boyish in its handsomeness. She guessed him to be mid to late twenties. The youngest of the group.

  She looked around to see Dante sitting on the couch farthest from her, studying her with those inscrutable gold eyes.

  He wasn’t at all as she’d expected from reviews. He was supposed to be the friendliest one. Overly friendly, overly charming, conceited, and unintimidated by women. A schmoozer.

  He wasn’t schmoozing now. Instead, he was eyeing her warily, and even with his tall body leaned back on the couch, his legs crossed, his arms folded combatively, as if protecting himself from her, she couldn’t help but be wildly attracted.

  He was perfection personified.

  She’d been wrong. He wasn’t short. In fact, he was startlingly tall, probably a few inches over six feet. His skin was smooth and almost glowy. His eyes were a light amber that was almost golden like his hair. They were large, almond shaped, and slightly tilted up at the corners, giving him an almost feline appearance.

  But then he had a long, strong, straight nose that was the kind of stuff dreams were made of. Full, deeply curved lips. A strong jaw paired with jutting chin, which was currently raised haughtily.

  He was tensing his jaw muscles beneath his high, sharp cheekbones. As she seemed to be making him uncomfortable with her perusal of his face, her eyes wandered down the rest of his body.

  Strong, muscular neck, then collarbones disappearing into a slightly loosened collar. Wide shoulders hard with muscle, large arms that flexed even in his dress shirt. He’d shed his suit jacket, and she could make out the lines of his huge pecs, his hard six-pack. Looking down below his trim waist cinched in a designer belt, she could almost make out his—

  She snapped her gaze up, realizing how inappropriate she was being. She thought she caught a slight smirk on his face, but it was gone when she eyed him challengingly.

  Still, it wasn’t like her to be disrespectful. She would have to try harder to stay in control.

  He was just a good-looking man. It didn’t make him any better than anyone else. Just born lucky.

  She looked around for Sever and saw him sitting by the wall at a small table, reading a book. He wasn’t even looking at her.

  She was surprised to see a long, thick braid trailing down his back.

  His powerful shoulders appeared as if they were about to burst open his suit jacket, and he was patently ignoring her as she stared at him, from his strong biceps to his huge calves.

  Looking at Adrien again, she realized even he was much taller than she would have guessed. All of them looked to be over six feet by at least a few inches.

  The room was dead quiet except for some faintly playing classical music.

  An odd choice for such an odd environment.

  She folded her arms and tapped her foot on the marble a few times, making a clicking sound with the low, chunky heel of her mules.

  Sever looked over and then ignored her again. Adrien glared. Dante avoided her gaze.

  “If you all hate it here so much, why are you working here?”

  The surprise in the room was evident.

  “Why do you think we hate it?” Adrien called out, walking forward, arms folded. He was an intimidating creature, wearing a three-piece suit without a tie. As he approached, the vest emphasized his strong chest and abs.

  When he got a few feet from her, he looked her up and down with scorn. “You don’t dress like other women.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care what you think of me.”

  Adrien cocked his head. “Interesting.”

  Was his hair naturally that jet black? How were his eyes so light and silvery? He was beautiful, refined, the face of an angel and the body of a fighter. And he looked as if he were trying to decide whether he hated her or not.

  That matched with reviews.

  Dante got to his feet then, sliding his hands into the pockets of his tight suit pants, stretching them slightly, and she had to fight to keep her eyes level with his. “Why are you here if you’re going to mock us?” he asked.

  “I can help you,” she said, moving to an empty couch in the middle of two others. “If you all take a seat, we can talk.”

  That was if the sheer power of the pheromones in the room didn’t get to her first.

  “Why would you help us?” Adrien asked, surprising her by moving closer. He stood in front of the couch next to hers and then sat on it stiffly. “What do you want?”

  Dante seemed as shocked as she was by Adrien’s action, and he joined Adrien on his couch, taking the seat closest to her, glaring.

  He reminded her of a suspicious cat.

  A big one.

  “Sever,” Dante called, relaxing into the couch as Adrien sat back a bit from him. “Come over here and stop being rude.”

  Sever let out a huff and slammed his book down before dragging himself over to the couch on the other side of her. He made the ground rumble as he sat. He was the biggest of all three. “What do you want?”

  She looked between them, taking in Adrien’s air of cold disdain, Dante’s confusion, and Sever’s lack of interest. “You all aren’t as bad as your reviews imply.”

  “You know how to keep your hands to yourself,” Adrien said coolly, keeping his arms folded.

  Ah, that made sense. Men like this probably made women a little frisky. Maybe they weren’t being clear enough in advertising that this wasn’t a Chippendales situation. That was something she could help with.

  “Sounds like there needs to be tighter rules about client contact.”

  Adrien sat up a little straighter.

  “I think it’s fine,” Dante said tightly. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Fine?” she asked, pulling out her phone. “Sure, if you want to close down. With reviews like ‘this place should be called Douchebag, Inc.,’ that’s what’s going to happen.”

  Sever let out a snort.

  Dante stiffened. “We’re figuring it out. We’re fine. If you’re going to insult us, then we don’t need you.”

  She looked into his stubborn gold eyes, so much colder than she expected them to be.

  She’d expected the others would be caustic, but she’d thought at least Dante would be complementary and willing to gloss things over. She’d read he was a suck-up who lived to please women and be admired for it.

  Not with her apparently.

  And since she wouldn’t consider hiring either of the others, there was really no point in wasting any more of her time.

  What was she going to do now? This had been her last hope.

  She stood, brushing her skirt off and averting her eyes. “Fine. I’m leaving. I’d say it was nice to meet you, but I honestly can’t.” She waved as she walked on stiff legs back to the door. “Good luck with your flailing business.”

  She heard murmurs behind her but strode out of the room before anyone could say anything to stop her. Not that they tried.

  As she let the door swing shut and walked to Citrine’s office to tell him the deal was off, she felt her walls go up around her. She’d been stupid to hope fo
r a simple solution, but she’d adjust and figure out something else.

  She always did.

  Dante shifted awkwardly as the other dragons stared at him, aghast.

  He couldn’t even defend himself, and was frankly sick at the way Ella had looked at him before fleeing the scene. She’d been trying to put on an air of defiance, but Dante had seen the pain in her eyes.

  “Damn. What was that?” Adrien asked.

  “I agree,” Sever said, seeming more amused and engaged than he’d been in sometime. “What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Dante said.

  “You, the pleaser, being all cold,” Sever said.

  “Yeah, you’re the nice one. The one who makes women like you.” Adrien cocked a dark brow, dyed to match his hair. “I’ve never observed you being a jerk like that.”

  “I wasn’t a jerk,” Dante said defensively, putting a hand through his hair, making it stand up in all directions. “She was being condescending and rude and looking at us like meat, and—”

  “That never bothered you before,” Sever said, sitting back, cocking his head in thought. He folded his arms slowly. “What do you think that means, Adrien?”

  “I’m not sure, Sever. What do you think it means?”

  “Dammit,” Dante said. “All it means is that I need to apologize.” He stood, clenching and unclenching his fists. He didn’t know what it was about the frank little human that caught him off guard. He was a dragon. A noble. And he never lost his cool or his charm.

  Yet having her interact with the other dragons, look too long at the other males, and talk down to them about the job they were currently doing had gotten under his skin in a way nothing ever had.

  “Interesting, though, don’t you think?” Adrien asked dryly. “Something that interesting is worth keeping around perhaps?”

  “Adrien saying that about a woman is a first,” Sever said, nodding. “Go chase her down, Dante.”

  Dante shook his head as he strode away from them, hands in his pockets. “I was going to anyway. I don’t need you dolts to tell me.”

  To be honest, he felt awful. At first, when she’d looked at him in shock, he’d felt smug to have her attention wholly on him.