The Dragon of Skye 1
Marked by the Dragon
Fainting is a perfectly appropriate response to being confronted by a huge dragon—right?
While humans have been marked for and by the dragons for centuries, they do not know dragons exist. So, tattoo artist and dragon shifter Duncan Strannach faces a unique problem when he scents his very human mate.
Kerry Jo Watson cannot understand the insane attraction she feels to this muscle-bound, broody, and clearly dominant man. She came here to get a tattoo checked, not lust over the artist—or get a job as his receptionist. She’s determined to not get involved with the boss.
Duncan needs Kerry’s submission of her own free will, and it kills him to keep his distance. The “I turn into a fire-breathing dragon” revelation tends to wreak havoc on a relationship, not to mention the décor.
In the end, it’s all rather simple. They’re dragon mates, and when Kerry accepts the dominance of her Sir, magic happens.
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Paranormal. Shape-shifter
Length: 36,566 words
MARKED BY THE DRAGON
The Dragons of Skye 1
Doris O'Connor

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
MARKED BY THE DRAGON
Copyright © 2017 by Doris O'Connor
ISBN: 978-1-64010-535-5
First Publication: August 2017
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
DEDICATION
For Kerry Jo. Enjoy your dragon!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, time travel, sci-fi, BDSM, F/F, M/M, and ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
Happily married for the last twenty-seven years, she lives with her husband and their brood of nine in a far too small house filled with love, laughter, and chaos.
For all titles by Doris O'Connor, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/doris-oconnor
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Landmarks
Cover
MARKED BY THE DRAGON
The Dragons of Skye 1
DORIS O'CONNOR
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
“Boss, you’re wanted out here.”
Duncan Strannach rolled his massive shoulders to get rid of the kink left over from his latest hour-long assignment, finished wiping off his workstation, and snapped his gloves off with a sigh. His dragon, too, stretched and settled back around his biceps, his forked tongue tasting the air. That action brought him up short.
Someone other than the inebriated hen party, whom he would have to politely turn away, was out there. The scent was human, sweet, alluring, and made his dragon itch to come out and play. Duncan willed his animal half back until it manifested into his tattoo of a sleeping dragon, ran a hand through his shoulder-length dark hair, and ventured out from the back room. That scent in the air couldn’t mean what he thought it did. Duncan had all but given up hope of ever finding his destined mate, and yet…
Miri, his heavily pregnant receptionist, rolled her eyes at him when the hens erupted into shrieks of delight at his appearance. The hapless bride looked utterly mortified at being thrust toward him. She also could barely stand straight and reeked of alcohol. He really ought to shut early on a Saturday night. Barely 7:30 p.m. and this lot were plastered already. He put his hand out to steady the bride, lest she fall ass over tit in front of him, and he forced a smile onto his face.
“She needs a tat, now.”
“Oh, you’re hot. You can tattoo me anytime.”
Duncan’s smile slipped, and he took his hands off the bride’s shoulders the minute she straightened.
“Ladies, don’t touch what you can’t afford. I’m not for sale, and neither are my services. I suggest you all sober up and come back when you know what you’re actually doing.”
He stepped away from the throng and the wandering hands, and that was when he spotted her.
The short-haired brunette wasn’t part of the hen party. This woman was dressed in leggings and a long tee, no doubt chosen to hide luscious curves that immediately made him salivate with the need to discover what lay beneath. She looked uneasy, nervous, as she flicked through one of the catalogs of his previous work.
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We’re only a little tipsy.” The fact that the head hen slurred her words put the lie to that statement. Duncan raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms over his wide chest, and stared the woman down.
“If that’s tipsy, I’d hate to see you drunk. I don’t work on anyone who’s under the influence of drugs or alcohol, so please leave.”
Miri, ever helpful, waddled across, spread her arms wide, and shooed the throng of giggling women out of the shop.
“You heard the boss. I did tell you when you came in. Off you go. Hands off my bump, missus.”
Duncan grinned at the steel behind that last statement. Miri might be small, and currently as wide as she was tall, but no one messed with her when she was this riled up. Sure enough, the hen party disappeared as noisily as they’d entered.
He would miss his sidekick when she started her maternity leave. In truth, she should already be off, but none of the replacements who’d shown up to be interviewed had passed the Miri test. At this rate, she would end up giving birth at her desk. His dragon grumbled his displeasure at the thought, and the pretty little brunette gasped and dropped the folder.
Heat spread across her cheeks when he got there before her and handed the folder back to her.
“See anything you like in there?” he asked. This close to her, her sweet scent wrapped itself around him and his dragon roared. It took every ounce of self-control Duncan possessed to not give in to the instinct to taste the air with his tongue to get a better read of this woman. As it was, he wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t looking up into the slit eyes of his dragon. She certainly looked startled as she fumbled for the folder. Her fingertips touched his, and Duncan closed his eyes briefly to savor that instant moment of truth
.
This delightful bundle of curves was his mate, his very human mate. Fuck it all. It would complicate matters somewhat, and meant he couldn’t just act on instinct and make her his now. The young woman’s sharp intake of breath, as though she too had felt that jolt of recognition, was music to his ears and soothed the savage beast inside. Her breathing sped up and her scent increased, calling his dragon to come out, to taste, to mark her as his.
Miri’s exaggerated throat clearing broke the spell, and opening his eyes, Duncan took a step back to give his mate some much-needed breathing room. When had he gotten so close to her that their thighs almost touched and her breath ghosted across his neck? It brought with it the faint minty scent of the toothpaste she’d used that morning, and the smell of coffee, and chocolate. His girl had a sweet tooth then.
Grinning to himself, Duncan took one long, last sniff to imprint her scent on his dragon. This time, he caught the flowery scent of her shampoo, deodorant, and the unmistakable musk of aroused woman.
Thank fuck for that. It would make the whole “Oh, by the way, I shift into a fire-breathing dragon” revelation a tad easier—hopefully.
“Oh, I’m, that is. I’m not here for a tat. I saw the sign in the window, see, and…”
Miri clapped her hands and smiled.
“Oh, excellent. See, I told you that sign would work, boss.” His receptionist grinned up at him and held out her hand to the other woman.
“I’m Miri, and this is my illustrious boss, Duncan Strannach. You are?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Kerry Jo Watson.” Belatedly she held out her hand to shake Miri’s and then offered it to Duncan to shake. Her eyes widened when he grasped it and, lifting it up, pressed a kiss on the back of it.
Miri giggled, and that act right there told Duncan that she’d caught on to the undertones. Then again, she would. Miri and he knew each other better than anyone. Hadn’t he known Miri’s mate from the minute the other man had walked into the shop a mere year ago?
He forced himself to let go of Kerry’s hands. The contact had served to reiterate what he already knew. This woman was his, and he would have her, come what may.
“Well, Kerry Jo Watson, you seem to be bringing out the romantic in the boss. Never thought I’d see the day.” Miri stuck her tongue out at him when he growled at her, and her own dragon briefly showed in her eyes.
“You make me sound like some sort of hoodlum,” he grumbled, and Miri laughed again.
“If the shoe fits and all that.” Addressing a somewhat bewildered-looking Kerry, she shrugged. “Inside joke, Kerry. You don’t mind if I call you Kerry, do you? We don’t stand on formalities here. And this big lout is all right really. I wouldn’t still be working here if he wasn’t.” She winked at Duncan, and he shook his head in amusement at her antics.
“You won’t be working here much longer. I don’t fancy playing midwife.”
Miri sobered and cradled her bump. He knew she was communicating with her unborn child, and in truth, she would never be caught out like that. She-dragons knew when their time was close and chose to go into seclusion to have their offspring.
“Mark wouldn’t let you if you tried,” she said, then added for Kerry’s benefit, “My husband. He’s the midwife, you see, and will be delivering our son when he’s ready to be born. And it won’t be in this shop.” She rubbed her bump again and smiled. “I have a birthing pool with my name on it waiting for me at home.”
“You’re having a home birth?” Kerry’s astonishment showed in her voice. “Is that safe? Forgive me, it’s none of my business, it’s just…” She put her hand up when Miri growled at her, and Duncan suppressed a grin. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. You’ll have researched that, of course, and…” She threw a worried glance toward Duncan and frowned at his amusement. “Well, anyway, good luck with it. That’s all I mean. How much longer have you got to go?”
Miri stopped her antagonistic stance, cocked her head to one side, and grinned.
“Around sixteen hours, so I best get myself home.”
Kerry reared back as though she expected Miri to explode like a walking time bomb, which, come to think of it, was rather an apt comparison. Baby dragons tended to make a fiery entrance into the world, hence the need to be born in water.
Miri simply smiled at the human’s reaction.
“Plenty of time to look at your CV. You’ve brought one, I assume?”
Kerry blinked and then rummaged through her oversized handbag before she produced a folder of documents.
“Yes, of course. Here are my CV and references from my previous jobs. You’ll see I’m very experienced in receptionist work. Admittedly, I’ve never worked in a tattoo shop, but my last job was as a receptionist at a busy GP practice, so I reckon I can handle most things.”
Miri glanced at the paperwork, nodded, and then handed it over to Duncan. He scanned through it while Miri subjected his mate to her usual interrogation interview style.
It was always entertaining to see her go into battle as it were. Miri was determined to get him as good a replacement as she could, and no matter how often he reiterated that he could take care of the paperwork himself if he had to, she insisted that would never do.
Kerry’s qualifications were excellent. If anything, she was overqualified for this job, and it made him wonder what had driven his mate to come all the way to Inverness. Her previous work record had all been down south. She seemed to have left her last employer almost four months ago, and curiously enough, she wasn’t using that surgery as a reference. If he had to guess, something had happened that had forced her to leave under a cloud. Not that it would make any difference to his employing her.
Her working for him would give him the perfect excuse to stay close to her, and to persuade her not only into his bed, but also into allowing him to lay claim to her heart and soul. Only then would he reveal who he truly was.
“So, what do you think, boss?” Miri asked once she’d run out of questions for the other woman. She grasped her bump again, and this time she didn’t even try to hide her wince.
“I think you need to get home before you can’t manage it. Let me call Mark to accompany you home, and—”
“No need. I’m already here.”
Miri’s mate entered the shop, nodded toward Duncan, and sniffed the air. His dragon’s low rumble filled the room, and Kerry took a step away, right into Duncan.
She jumped when he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Lord only knew what she must be making of all this. She had to think them decidedly odd at least. The last thing he wanted was for her to decide she didn’t want this job after all. It was the perfect way to truly get to know her and to appease his dragon by keeping his mate close to him at all times.
“Easy there, it’s all right.” Addressing the other male, he continued. “Glad you’re here. Take your woman away, and tell her not to worry. I’ve got this covered. Go have that baby, Miri.”
His receptionist looked set to argue, but one glance up at her dragon mate and all the fight went out of her. She simply dropped her gaze, murmured something very uncomplimentary about overbearing Dom types under her breath—a comment she would no doubt pay for with a red ass once she’d recovered from the birth—and grabbed her handbag off her desk at the front of the shop.
“Fine, I’m going.” She smiled briefly at Kerry on her way out of the shop. “Guess you’re hired then, Kerry. Can’t leave the boss on his own; he would make mincemeat out of my filing, and someone’s got to keep him safe from the bimbos who only come in here to catch a glimpse of him at work. You’ll see what I mean. Okay, okay, I’m going.” She groused at Mark, who grasped her elbow, and then the door banged shut behind them.
Duncan stepped away from his mate, flipped the sign from open to shut, and then locked the door.
“Right, let’s have a proper interview, shall we?”
Chapter Two
Kerry wanted the ground to swallow her whole when, having locked the door, th
e brooding hunk of a male turned his full attention on her.
Oh my God, I’m on my own with him, and I don’t know anything about him.
Some of her panicked thought processes must have shown on her face, because Mr. Sex-on-legs frowned, and then smiled at her. He no doubt meant that to be reassuring, but it had the opposite effect on Kerry. There was just something about this man, a hint of danger, which should have made her run to the hills for cover, yet didn’t. He looked as though he wanted to eat her alive, and that really shouldn’t have made her body respond in the way it did. His nostrils flared as though he could smell the wetness between her legs, and he watched her with that single-minded intensity that she’d first noticed when he’d appeared out of the back room.
No man had ever looked at her like that, and it was unnerving to the extreme. Especially as there had been so many far-more-attractive women in the room at the time. Kerry liked her body well enough, but she knew she could never compete with the skinny type most men of her acquaintance seemed to prefer. The women in her family had always been on the cuddly side, and no amount of exercise or, heaven forbid, dieting would ever cure Kerry of her more-than-ample curves in all the wrong places. Besides, she liked her food, and she would have to half starve herself in an effort to lose a few pounds.
No, that just wasn’t her. Straightening her shoulders, she pulled a deep breath into her lungs to steady her nerves. Unfortunately, that only served to bring Duncan’s delicious scent closer into her consciousness. She couldn’t place it, and he certainly didn’t look the sort to wear cologne. No, this was all him. Earthy, spicy, with a hint of smoke, not of the nicotine kind either. If she had to put a name to it, she would have said the open fire kind of smoke, which made no sense at all, and she was so losing the plot to even be thinking all of these things.
Marked by the Dragon [The Dragon of Skye 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 1
