Dragon Destined: Billionaire Dragon Shifter Romance (Prince of the Other Worlds)

by Kara Lockharte

  Maybe even all about everything.

  “Oh my God, Eumie…what was that?” Andi wanted more, even as she knew that more of it might be very, very bad for her.

  Eumie beamed with quiet satisfaction. “It’s a nepenthe cake.”

  The name didn’t ring any bells for Andi. “Which is?”

  “A taste I’ve been trying to recreate for a few centuries now—at least that’s how it feels,” Eumie said with a snort.

  Andi had wild thoughts of running behind the counter and looking for more. “Well, I think you’ve got it because that was truly amazing.”

  “No…that’s the thing. I don’t.” Eumie heaved a sigh before licking a finger to smash one of the crumbs down that Andi’d left behind to pop it into their mouth. “I know it’s good. But it’s not perfect yet—not the way it tasted when I was a child. I’ve been trying and trying to get it right—my whole life, it seems—and I don’t know if I ever will.”

  Andi frowned. “But it was so good.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Eumie said. “And, if I hadn’t ever had the real thing, I wouldn’t know any better…like you.” They reached out and patted her hand with affection. “I don’t think you’ve ever had the real thing before, Andi. And I don’t know if this Damian guy is the real deal…only you can know that. If you’re even looking for something real, that too.”

  “I think I am?” Andi guessed, shrugging with her whole body before shaking her head. “But I don’t have anything to compare it to, Eumie. How am I supposed to know?”

  “Same way I will, I suppose. You’ll be in a kitchen someday and voila. Whatever it is, when you’re with him, it’ll finally taste right.”

  “Easy for you to say; I don’t like to cook,” Andi said, sticking her tongue out. Cooking reminded her too much of her mom. She raised her fingers to her temples to rub where the headache was beginning to form behind them. “I can’t tell if it’s too early or too late.”

  “Time for you to get to bed, then,” Eumie said, swooping up as a customer walked in, making the bell above the door jingle. Eumie smiled down at her. “Tomorrow morning?”

  “Same bat-time, same bat-channel,” Andi said, standing up.

  “I’ll have the halvah ready,” Eumie promised, and gently shooed her out the door.

  Andi’d finished her morning shower and gotten into bed with her phone like she always did—just in case there was news from Danny. Just at his beck and call. Andi rolled her eyes at herself. And now? Damian was back. She groaned. She hadn't even asked him why he was asking about her uncle or what he wanted with the coat he’d given her—both of which seemed like they might’ve been important things to know. Fuck if she was going to call him and ask him, though.

  Why did being around him always make her feel off-balance?

  It wasn’t fair.

  Her phone buzzed, and she instantly looked at it. Sammy’s picture came up—the one Andi kept for blackmail purposes—her roommate as a slutty Raggedy Ann from three Halloweens ago. If she’d only shown it to David, Sammy would’ve already had a date booked.

  How was last night with your uncle?

  I bartered you off to a biotech nerd.

  Sammy sent back a laughing emoji as Andi grinned at her phone. What was I worth, twenty camels?

  Sixty. The herd’s out back. We’ve got the camel-milk market cornered now.

  Okay, so, seriously, Sammy texted. Was he hot? And what’d he drive?

  Yes. And…a Tesla.

  Sammy instantly sent her a combination of barfing and poop emojis, and Andi laughed and laughed. Don’t rile me before bedtime! Andi warned.

  Then don’t mention Teslas!

  Andi rolled over, grinning at her roommate through her phone. How hot would a guy have to be to overcome a Tesla?

  Depends on what else was in his garage. IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, Sammy sent in all caps, and Andi cackled.

  Okay. I didn’t get a look at his “garage,” so no promises. But I told him about you. I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.

  Aww. Always looking out for me! Sammy sent, followed by three hearts.

  Hey, someone in this apartment needs to get laid, Andi texted.

  Tell me about it. But…it’s not our fault! We just have high standards, Sammy sent back with a wink. You’re my favorite.

  You’re mine! Andi typed, and meant it, before swiping her screen off.

  * * *

  The bus took forever, and then he’d had to walk up to his home. Damian pushed through the front door of his castle. “Report?” he asked aloud, and Grimalkin materialized nearby.

  “Everyone’s accounted for and safe! You?” the cat asked, then sniffed the air. “Diesel? And…nurse?”

  “Shush,” Damian said. “Austin! Zach!” he called, letting his voice echo through the building.

  The werewolves appeared, taking the stairs two by two. “There’s been another Hunter sighting at the hospital.”

  “Says who?” Austin asked, eyes narrowing.

  “That’s not important right now. It’s reliable intel, okay?” Damian said, brushing aside his concerns. “I want you two to go stake it out.”

  “Sounds good to me…I’ve got a score to settle,” said Zach.

  “Don’t! No confrontations just yet. Information only. And don’t leave one another’s side. If they’re stalking the hospitals to look for weaker shifters who’ve been injured—maybe even distant bloodlines of people who don’t know they’ve got shifter blood in them—I want to know where this is leading, and who’s in charge.”

  Austin and Zach nodded curtly, and Damian strode up the stairs two by two to his room.

  He’d had to follow her onto the bus. It was like he couldn’t stop himself, physically—like he needed another hit. Just to be near her, even if she was pissed.

  Everything about her was irresistible to him.

  Even her anger, he acknowledged with a snort. He quickly stripped out of his clothes and crossed the room to his bathroom, stepping into his shower, turning the hot water on with a sweep of his hand.

  His shower was large enough for a small orgy—or even a big one, if everyone was feeling particularly friendly—and right now, it swamped him, hot water blasting him in all directions. He tried to let everything wash off of him, all of the danger from the prior night, the fighting, his dragon, the child…and Andi. Damian held onto the memory of her after everything else was gone.

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair and over his body and blinked his eyes open underneath the large shiny metal plate of the showerhead and saw her reflected there. Her soft curves, barely hidden under sheets that had some sort of innocent cartoon penguin repeated on them.

  Damian closed his eyes. Stop it, he commanded his dragon.

  Why? it asked.

  Because. She doesn’t know. Damian opened his eyes again and saw now that she’d turned toward him and was smiling at her phone. He’d never told her how he could use any reflective surface to spy on her because she was already nervous enough, and who was she smiling at like that?

  It killed him that it wasn’t him.

  But I want to see her, his dragon said.

  She doesn’t wish to be seen. Damian kept his eyes closed and got out of the shower, and it was worse. His dragon used the bathroom mirror to summon a vision of Andi, now almost life-sized, still smiling invitingly at her phone screen.

  Open the glass and step through, his dragon willed him.

  Damian screwed his eyes shut. No, he growled. He turned his back to the mirror. Just thinking about her—his dragon was right, she was so close, and there seemed to be a large enough mirror on her side, so with just a little magic, he could will himself through—his desires burned him from the inside out, almost unquenchable. He carried a low-level ache for Andi all day, every day, that seemed to get worse the longer they were apart. But now, after being close enough to touch her this morning and not taking his chance, it felt like he might die. The last time that he’d felt like thi
s was when he’d been inside her—in his dream—with his dragon at the wheel.

  She is so close, his dragon tempted him.

  I will not look. And neither will you.

  Coward, his dragon hissed.

  Hardly, Damian said, willing himself to stay strong. But speaking of cowards, what of you?

  Never, his dragon challenged him.

  Oh, yes. Remember? In our dream? While you were in charge? Damian pressed. When we were…. Damian flashed to the moment when his dragon had been close to coming inside Andi, before pushing him forward to take over. Why would you pursue her, only to run away?

  Because, his dragon told him and then paused so long, he wondered if it was just going to ignore him and sulk, and then it finished. If she were mine…if she were my mate, it said, and then gave up on words to assault him with immersive thoughts. Immediately, he wasn’t in his bathroom anymore. He was flying in a cloud.

  Wet wind rippled over every part of him, and he was in quick pursuit of something high above. He stroked his wings through the air, gaining height, gaining speed—the thrill of the chase running up and down his body like it was being circulated by his blood. There was something he wanted above him, he knew it, and he would have it. He burst through into sunlight, overshooting, seeing it there, below him.

  Not an it—her—Andi in dragon form, gilded in golden scales and every bit as sinuous as he was. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but he knew. There was something about the way she slid through the air, entirely self-assured, a little bit reckless, a little bit foolhardy. As though she would fly forever without needing anyone, and then, she coyly glanced up at him, clearly taunting his dragon to catch up.

  It was more than up to the task, dropping down to gain on her in fast, steady strokes, utterly intent on reaching her, the chase in him transforming into something different, a desperate longing to be joined. A few more swipes of his wings and he’d be even with her. His dragon roared his intent and dove for her as she twisted, belly to the sky, claws out as she pirouetted back.

  His dragon surged forward to meet her, and Damian knew what it wanted, even as he was sure they were going to crash together and both fall to the ground. Her claws raked him as he made contact, and Damian’s dragon roared—not in pain, but in triumph. She was clutching herself to him, trusting him to fly for both of them, as their neck and tails wound tight. Anatomy lined up and parts of his dragon that he had never used or felt exposed themselves before sinking into her.

  Dragons had no foreplay, knowing the other one was ready when it would let them mount, and so his dragon was already coming into her. Christ, Damian hissed, experiencing an explosion of feeling all at once, riveted in place. A sensation of release like he had never known and then…a thickening. He couldn’t release her even if he tried. His cock had flared to seal himself, locking her for his cum alone, and now they were midflight and falling.

  His wings were strong, but they were supporting two great beasts’ weight, there was no way for just him to keep them both aloft. They went from soaring into a half-controlled descent to slowly spiraling toward possible destruction. Had they flown high enough together to be safe? Or had he taken her too quickly in his greed and doomed them both?

  Air ripped at his wings, stretching the bands of leather between the bony struts almost to their breaking point. And just as the ground started rushing up and crashing seemed inevitable, his lock released. She flared her wings and caught herself, untwining, pulling off of his swollen member to fly away, and Damian was in his bathroom, leaning against the marble counter behind him, hands curled against its edge.

  He was panting, unsure of what to make of himself now, and his all-too-human feeling body. And not for the first time, Damian wondered on the nature of the beast inside him. Was it once its own creature but now somehow trapped? Or were these intergenerational memories made of magic, a base truth that all dragons knew? He remembered the way the beast had been writing on Andi with his hands in their dream—gestures of affection or something arcane?

  And that…that’s what you were afraid of? he asked it.

  Yes, the beast inside him said, sounding abashed.

  Damian turned around and splashed his face with cold water from his sink. In his dream, he’d had his dragon’s wings, so perhaps, it made sense for the beast to be afraid of its own massive cock. But now that his mirror was just a mirror and his dragon wasn’t tempting him anymore, he could see himself in it clearly. He had the face of a man who had spent too much of his life angry, and all of his muscles, sinews, and bone were there just to hide the temperamental monster inside.

  It was a dream, he told his dragon. They’d both known it at the time. No matter how much they’d enjoyed it, it wasn’t real.

  Dreams can be prophetic, his dragon intoned.

  Not for normal humans. But Damian knew he wasn’t normal. And as much as he would give to have hope of being with Andi again, he would give her up if its cost was her being in the Realms.

  She can never go there. He’d watched it destroy his mother, and it’d almost destroyed him. Do you hear me? Never.

  And even his dragon, who adored the Realms because of the power he was able to freely wield there, rumbled without hesitation: Of course not! She is... His dragon paused to consider things further. Beautiful…but without scales.

  Finally, something they could both agree on. Damian stepped back and grabbed a towel, feeling fractionally relaxed for the first time that day.

  Chapter 11

  Damian woke up in the early evening from a deeper sleep than he’d been expecting. For all that she made his blood sing, it was as if seeing Andi that morning had calmed him somehow—and for the past few hours in his bed, he’d been at peace. But now that he was awake, all his problems pressed in again. It’d be nightfall soon. He’d have to go talk to Rex to see who the fuck had sicced Stella on him. And he still didn’t have any clarity on what’d happened to his coat or who Andi’s mysterious uncle was or if and when he was going to see her again.

  “Grim,” he announced aloud. “Where’s Max?”

  The seal-point Siamese materialized on his bed to ask, “Where do you think?”

  Damian grunted. Training room it was, then. “Thanks,” he said, and got out of bed at last.

  Maximillian was another refugee from the Realms. Damian hadn’t asked him to come, but a year into Damian’s stay on Earth, he’d asked, appearing horribly injured on the far side of a mirror. Damian said yes. He’d been Damian’s favorite weapons master as a boy, and unlike most of the tutors his father had hired, he’d actually shown Damian kindness. He only hurt Damian to teach him, not to curry favor with his father.

  Damian stood outside the door of their training room, and it slid open, revealing Max and Jamison already sparring inside. Max was in his polar bear form, while Jamison was clinging to a beam on the ceiling with his human hand, and shooting at Max with the other, leaving splats of red dye on the bear’s white coat.

  “Look, Damian! He’s so dead!” Jamison crowed as Max launched himself up to bodily knock Jamison down. The other man made an oof! sound as they fell together onto the padded floor, and Max bared his teeth at Jamison’s throat.

  Damian walked over to give Jamison a hand up, as Max retreated. “I think you need a higher caliber paint gun.”

  “I think I need a bear that doesn’t cheat,” Jamison said, dusting himself off. Max growled. “Flying bears are cheating, man. I don’t make the rules.”

  Max twisted to give a despairing look back at Damian, even with his goggles on. “I’m sorry, Max, but I think he’s right. Bears on this world don’t fly,” Damian said, hiding a grin.

  Max backed up six feet and kicked a button on the wall, resetting the room to its starting grid, just a big square on the ground and a few racks of weapons on each wall. He turned his bulk and grabbed a spear that’d been made just for him, with a bite guard in the middle and two deadly-looking blades poking out on either side. Everything in the room was wir
ed not to kill anyone, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

  Jamison looked alarmed. “Can you explain to him that bears also shouldn’t use actual weapons?” he asked Damian before Max gestured elaborately with his head. “Oh, wait…you and me? Against him? Yeah, I’m down for that.”

  “Don’t I get a vote?” Damian asked, falling into a crouch as they began to circle.

  “Nope!” Jamison said, cheerfully. “You get the claw!” He twisted the fingers of his metal hand together into a cruel-looking weapon.

  “I bought you that,” Damian protested lightly.

  “Yeah, but it’s too late now. No takebacks,” Jamison said, then whipped his hand at Damian’s chest. The metal piece flew out explosively, like shrapnel, and Damian jumped back. “What, you can’t handle the claw? The claw knows all!” Jamison said in a silly voice that somehow made claw and all rhyme.

  “The claw’s about to get its ass kicked,” Damian warned as Max charged him, twisting to take out his legs with the spear. Damian leaped over it and onto the bear’s back briefly, using it to bounce himself toward the nearest weapons rack. He pulled out a sword, the weapon of his childhood—before his dragon made himself known—and held it out in front of him. Max wheeled his bulk around and reared up on his back two feet, challenging Damian, while Jamison twirled his claw around on the end of a metallic cable like a flail.

  They both charged him at once. He only had one sword, so he had to think fast. He held up his sword to tangle the metallic claw Jamison was throwing at his head and twirled it down to cut the cable that held the claw entirely. Then he fell dramatically and rolled so that he was out of the path of Max’s bulk dropping on him, tucking and rolling to avoid his paws, to wind up on the bear’s far side, with the sword pointed underneath the back of its jaw.

  “Fair fight?” Damian asked them both. Max grunted as Jamison held up the empty end of his arm.

  “It’s going to take forever to rewire this,” he said sorrowfully. “But have I shown you my slicer-dicer?” he asked, twisting his forearm until a thing that looked like a jigsaw blade came out and spun ominously.