Dragon Passions: Three fiery & suspenseful paranormal romances!

by Anna Lowe

  Natalie wavered. What she really wanted was to go home, hide under the bedcovers, and pretend none of this was happening. But she needed help, and she knew it. Plus, everything Tristan said — and did — clicked like long-lost memories coming back to light.

  She took one halting step forward, then another, slowly gaining confidence. She had a fire-breathing dragon on her side, right?

  Then she snorted. Yeah. What could possibly go wrong?

  “Who are the Guardians?” she whispered.

  “Shifters who protect the city.”

  “From what?”

  “From other supernaturals. By the end of the Middle Ages, the human world was a mess, and shifters were completely disorganized. Things only improved when shifters gradually took control of major cities and committed themselves to maintaining law and order. Wolves in Rome, dragons in Paris, lions in London…”

  Liam glanced back with a wink.

  “But the Guardians’ ability to maintain peace waxes and wanes,” Tristan continued, shaking his head sadly. “The Thirty Years’ War, the Great War, World War II… Whenever infighting among shifters builds, trouble in the human world does too. For the past few decades, the Guardians have kept the peace, but that has been slipping. We’re seeing more troublesome vampires, more rogue shifters — that kind of thing. That is paralleled by developments in the human world — terrorism, rioting, xenophobia — you name it. Sometimes, we fight the rise of evil directly…”

  Natalie pictured him and Liam in army fatigues, marching through desolate landscapes in far corners of the world.

  “Generally, shifters don’t meddle directly in human affairs. They focus on their own issues, and the stabilizing effect trickles down to the human world. Lately, that has been harder and harder. There’s a legend…” He trailed off.

  Liam snickered. “You believe that?”

  Natalie looked between them. What legend?

  Tristan glanced at her, then at the sky. “Sometimes, I don’t know what to believe. All I know is, the less stable the shifter world, the more human conflict escalates. That’s why the Guardians brought us in.”

  “Who’s us?” Natalie asked.

  Tristan jerked a thumb at himself and then at Liam. “Me. Him. Other members of our unit have returned to their home cities, too. It’s the same problem everywhere — not only in Paris.”

  A somber silence set in, and Natalie tried to make sense of it all. Guardians…legends…real-world problems…

  Meanwhile, they continued walking, and the bustle of the red-light district gave way to the kind of upscale, tree-lined side street Natalie had originally imagined. Flowerpots dotted the house fronts, and neat rows of cobblestones marched up an incline. The next section of the side street was higher, narrower, and fancier. Beautiful villas lined both sides, all with wrought-iron gates and floor-to-ceiling windows framed by colorful shutters.

  A nice neighborhood. A classy neighborhood. One that oozed old money, power, and connections.

  “I should warn you,” Liam murmured to Tristan. “Jacqueline will be there.”

  Tristan’s step hitched, but a moment later, he strode on, squaring his shoulders.

  “I tried heading her off…” Liam continued.

  “How hard did you try?” Tristan’s voice was cold and tight.

  “Hey, I’m not the fool who dated her. That was all you, man.”

  Natalie’s heart sank, and her hand slipped away from Tristan’s. When he glanced over, she avoided his eyes. Whoever Jacqueline was, Natalie had no reason to feel jealous. No reason at all.

  Tristan searched her face, but she kept her gaze straight ahead. The street was rapidly coming to a dead end. At the head of the lane was a villa with a concave facade. It stood at the peak of the hill, half hidden behind a stand of tall trees. Dark curtains were drawn over the windows, and an imposing gate cut off access from the street.

  Natalie’s mind spun. What exactly had she stumbled into?

  Before Liam had a chance to ring the bell beside the gate, one of the front doors opened, and a slight man emerged. Tristan stepped forward to speak to him while Natalie hung back. The curtains of a second-floor window stirred, making her tense further.

  “Who’s Jaqueline?” she whispered to Liam.

  He pressed his lips together and murmured cryptically, “You’ll see.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Mademoiselle.” The butler bowed deeply, inviting her in.

  Natalie stepped forward hesitantly, feeling like a lamb being led to slaughter as she followed the butler down a long hallway lined with somber portraits in gilded frames. Every step she took seemed to be followed by dozens of wary eyes. She peeked from side to side. The faces peering out from the portraits were all human, but the backgrounds were full of other creatures. Howling wolves, lumbering bears, strutting lions… Even dragons swooping and breathing fire.

  Supernaturals… We come in all kinds, Tristan had said.

  A shiver went down her spine. “Are you sure these are friends and not enemies?”

  “I’ve often wondered myself,” Liam murmured.

  Tristan shot him a dark look. “Friends. The kind you don’t want to piss off.”

  Natalie bit her lip.

  The hallway opened on to a grand space four stories high. Sunlight poured in from a huge glass dome, and marble statues lined the balconies above. The ground floor walls were hung with landscapes and Mona Lisa style portraits that appeared centuries old. Natalie turned in a slow circle, soaking it all in.

  Tristan shot her a look that said, I told you the penthouse was nothing.

  That might be, but she preferred his apartment. The view was better, for one thing, and even unfurnished, it was cozier than this huge, cold place.

  Footsteps tapped down one of the twin staircases that curled around the lofty space, and Natalie whirled. Those sharp clicks came from a woman’s heels, producing authoritative taps that echoed from the marble stairs. A tall, slim woman descended, sliding one hand gracefully down the banister. Her flowing red gown was cut low at the front and high in the thigh, revealing a hell of a lot of creamy skin. Long, dangly silver earrings glinted in the light, as did the woman’s teeth when she flashed a cruel smile.

  “Jacqueline,” Tristan muttered.

  “Jacqueline!” Liam called out a little too sweetly.

  Natalie looked from one man to the other. They’d been on guard the moment they entered the building, but that vigilant air had just spiked by a factor of ten.

  Jacqueline floated down the last few steps and made a beeline for Tristan, but Liam quickly stepped forward. Giving his friend some breathing room, perhaps?

  “You look lovelier than ever.” Liam’s tone might have been a little forced, but Jacqueline was stunning, with high, Audrey Hepburn cheeks and shiny black hair styled into a tight, Breakfast at Tiffany’s bun.

  Jacqueline barely turned her head, letting Liam do all the work in their oh-so-French three-kiss greeting. But when she strode toward Tristan, her eyes held a predatory gleam, and she planted three firm kisses on his cheeks. They nearly hit his lips, but Tristan dodged her each time.

  “Ah, Tristan,” Jacqueline cooed the way a woman might after a round of satisfying sex. “So good to see you again.”

  The words were spoken in smooth, delicate French, but they made Natalie sick. Had Jacqueline ever slept with Tristan? Was she trying to woo back her ex-lover?

  Tristan stepped back and crossed his arms, bristling. Jacqueline pursed her lips the way a centerfold model would.

  “Poor Tristan. Always so sad, so serious.”

  Natalie considered. Serious, yes. But sad? He hadn’t been exactly exuberant that morning, but when he had smiled, it was like the sun coming out. Had Jacqueline never seen that smile?

  The thought gave Natalie a boost, though Jacqueline destroyed that a moment later with a cutting look.

  “Oh my. Is this she?” Jacqueline cackled to Tristan.

  Natalie ground her teeth.
Tristan’s eyes blazed, but Liam spoke first.

  “Jacqueline, meet Natalie. Natalie, meet Jacqueline.”

  Jacqueline’s hand was cold and hard, just like her smile. Natalie made damn sure to answer in her best French.

  “Pleasure to meet you. How do you do?”

  Jacqueline laughed and replied in English. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

  Her eyes swept up and down Natalie’s body. While she didn’t say anything, her expression dripped disdain. Those clothes… That hair… And those shoes. What were you thinking?

  Natalie held her chin high. No, she wasn’t put together as elegantly as Jacqueline. Whoever had picked up clothes from her apartment didn’t have great fashion sense, but she’d been grateful all the same.

  Grateful. Did Jacqueline even know the meaning of that word?

  A pair of huge oak doors creaked open, and Jacqueline tilted her head. “Ah. They’re ready for you. Good luck.” She let a split second tick by. “You’ll need it.”

  Tristan growled under his breath, but Jacqueline seemed amused.

  Natalie took a deep breath. Jacqueline was one thing. The three older men waiting for her at the doors were another. One had a hooked nose, beady eyes, and a slightly hunched back.

  Gargoyle, she remembered Tristan saying.

  The second was a tall warrior — what Tristan might look like in another forty years. Handsome in an uncompromisingly grizzled way and fit enough to whip a much younger man’s hide. His eyes were steady, his beard white with age, and his cheek was sliced by a jagged scar.

  Her mind tried dragon then discarded the idea. Was he a wolf shifter? A bear?

  “Miss Brewer?” he called in a voice like aged whiskey. “Come in.”

  Natalie hesitated. If these were the good guys, she’d hate to meet the bad guys. Still, she had no choice but to comply.

  A younger man stepped out from behind the three, and while he was handsome, his smile was far too practiced, his styled hair a little too groomed.

  “Miss Brewer. Delighted to make your acquaintance.” He took her hand — really took it before she had any choice in the matter — and lifted it to his lips for a kiss.

  “Allow me to introduce myself.” He gave a little bow. “I am—”

  “Marcel,” Tristan muttered, practically shoving the man aside.

  Obviously, there was some kind of rivalry there. They were both about the same age, the same height…

  Natalie chilled. Were both dragon shifters?

  She skittered onward. Then the third man spoke in a voice so smooth and silky, she balked. “Yes, do come in, Miss Brewer.”

  The words were hypnotic, but his eyes were piercing, and his hungry gaze was aimed at her throat. A vampire?

  “That’s Morfram,” Tristan whispered in her ear.

  When the man stepped closer, cold air crept in around Natalie’s body, and a horrifying scene played out in her mind. She saw a vampire back her up against a wall, and somehow, her limbs were powerless to resist. Then she tilted back her head, giving the vampire access to her neck. He closed in slowly, bared his fangs, and—

  Gasping, she lurched away from Morfram and bumped into Tristan. “You said we could trust these people.”

  Tristan’s eyes blazed. “We can. We have to. There’s no one else.”

  “But he’s a vampire!”

  Tristan took her arm and stepped around, blocking the others from view. Confusing the hell out of her, dammit, because he was doing that protector thing again. Was he on her side, or was he turning her over to vampires?

  “Yes, Morfram is a vampire. An ally in good standing for centuries.”

  Natalie frowned. Centuries? How long did vampires live?

  “The big guy is Hugo, a wolf shifter, and the other one is Albiorix, a gargoyle.”

  She peeked around Tristan’s thick arm. Gargoyle fit the first man’s short, wizened body. And as for Hugo — his honest eyes were those of a loyal canine’s. She pictured a huge wolf, staring at her over a flickering bonfire in a wintery campfire.

  “But…but…”

  “They are the good guys,” Liam promised, coming up beside Tristan. The two of them formed a solid wall that should have made her feel boxed in. Instead, she felt safe and secure, huddled in her own private place.

  But then Liam ruined the effect completely by adding, “Of course, good is relative…”

  “Relatively good?” she all but shrieked.

  Liam leaned closer. “I wouldn’t trust Marcel further than I could throw him, but the others—”

  “Dammit, Liam…” Tristan growled.

  A low chuckle sounded, and Tristan turned, annoyed.

  “At least he’s being truthful, Miss Brewer,” Hugo, the wolf, said. “Good and bad depend on what side you’re on. I can assure you we mean you no harm. Not even Morfram here.” He thumped a huge hand on the vampire’s shoulder and squeezed. “Right, Morfram?”

  The vampire winced and slid away. “Right.”

  Hugo’s huge, scarred hands hinted at a violent past. The sharp lines of his white, buzz-cut hair and sculpted goatee point of a beard added to the edgy, dangerous impression he made. Still, something about him reminded Natalie of her favorite grandfather — the one who’d always been there for her through thick and thin.

  So Hugo, she could imagine trusting. But a vampire? She eyed Morfram skeptically.

  Hugo nodded firmly. “I can vouch for Albiorix, as well. Come, Miss Brewer. You’re better off trusting us than those two.”

  Those two meant Tristan and Liam, and while neither uttered a word, Tristan’s blistering expression practically screamed, She’s better off with me.

  On instinct, Natalie edged closer to Tristan, and the angry glow of his eyes dimmed.

  When Hugo’s eyes darted between them in an expression that said, Well, well, Natalie stepped away from Tristan. No, they were not an item. She barely knew the man. The fact that she’d fantasized about him didn’t count. Tristan dated the likes of Jacqueline, not plain old her. Plus, he was a dragon, for goodness’ sake!

  But Hugo’s eyes went right on studying, and a smile played over his lips.

  “Enter,” a grumpy voice boomed from the inner chamber. “I don’t have all day.”

  Natalie cringed, but when Tristan touched her arm, she took a deep breath, ready to step forward. However, Jacqueline swept into the room first, giving a regal nod to the men at the door.

  Natalie wasn’t overly competitive, but Jacqueline rubbed her the wrong way, and she squared her shoulders and stepped in. If she’d learned anything over the past twenty-eight years, it was to accept who she was and be proud of the little things. So, in she went, directly past the wolf shifter, gargoyle, and vampire. God, was she nuts?

  “Good gracious,” Albiorix murmured as she went by. “She looks just like Amelie.”

  Who was Amelie? And was that a good or bad thing? Natalie swallowed hard as she stepped into the chamber — an oversized study, where a man sat in a chair. It was just a leather desk chair, but he managed to make it look like a throne. Jacqueline breezed forward, but he dismissed her with a curt gesture, commanding her to step aside for Natalie.

  Jacqueline’s eyes shot daggers, and Natalie hid an inner cringe. She didn’t need another supernatural enemy. What was Jacqueline anyway? Snake shifter would have been her first guess, though it was probably something sleeker and more graceful.

  Meanwhile, the king — er, the Guardian — watched her approach with laser-sharp eyes, and it took everything she had not to skitter away.

  “Natalie, this is Alaric,” Tristan murmured.

  She made a mental note to have a word with Tristan about any further surprises. He’d mentioned someone who could help her, but not the size and intensity of the man.

  Alaric’s dark, weary eyes suggested he’d witnessed the follies of humans for centuries. His long, unkempt beard was streaked with gray. Even sitting, he had an edgy energy, like that of an evil wizard crossed with a…a….
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  Dragon, a voice in the back of Natalie’s mind said.

  She blanched.

  Marcel took up position at Alaric’s side the way an heir might, mimicking the older man’s expression.

  “Let me look at you, child,” Alaric barked.

  She raised her chin, determined not to be cowed. But the man was downright terrifying. And he was one of the good guys?

  Tristan shuffled closer, and part of her exhaled at the subtle show of support. When Alaric scowled, Tristan didn’t back down, and Alaric’s expression darkened. An entire argument seemed to rage between them, though neither said a word. All their communication took place in a series of angry, flashing eyes and facial tics. Clearly, Alaric resented the challenge to his authority, but Tristan refused to step away.

  In a way, the men were similar, separated more by age than character. They both had the same sense of coiled energy. The same intensity, the same brooding presence, and the same powerful stature.

  Tristan, she wanted to say. Be careful. I think he could be a dragon.

  But, crap. So was Tristan, and getting caught in the middle of a firefight did not seem like a good idea. The air filled with crackling energy, and even the others exchanged worried looks.

  Natalie paled, ready to run. Her legs refused to budge, though, and it dawned on her that she wasn’t caught in the middle of someone else’s altercation. She was the cause of it. Tristan was standing up to a superior for her sake.

  Summoning all her nerves, she slid between Tristan and Alaric.

  “So nice to meet you, sir,” she blurted in her best French. “Tristan said you might be able to help me.”

  Everyone in the room froze, and Alaric’s chin jutted with an expression that said, How dare you interrupt my stare-down?

  From the corner of her eye, Hugo gave her a subtle nod.

  “Why would I want to help you, mademoiselle?” Alaric’s voice cut into the frigid silence.

  Natalie bit her lip, telling herself it was a test and not outright rejection.

  “Because you don’t like prowling vampires any more than I do. Because you don’t want the city overrun by forces out of your control,” she said, hazarding a guess from what Tristan had mentioned.