by Anya Nowlan
Instead of chilling her to the bone, as it would have any rational person, it just angered her further. Who the hell did he think he was, trying to intimidate her? Pfft, no overgrown lizard with wings was going to make her tremble!
“I have nothing to gain from threatening you,” he said, his voice level. His expression cleared, and he smirked once more, giving Gemma a look at that bad boy visage he had so carefully constructed for the public eye. “But I’m not going to lessen the demands on Gold Valley either. Most of the families have been here for more than five generations. If they wanted to leave, they would have by now.
By raising the demands, I’m making sure that the families who have something to contribute keep growing, and the ones that are simply dragging along leave. It’s tradition to ask for a bounty from the village in return for our patronage, and I am not about to change that.”
She fumed.
“You talk about tradition! What about some of the old traditions, huh? Gold Valley had to offer a sacrifice of the most beautiful girl in town every decade some generations ago. Are you going to bring that back too, seeing as you’re such a traditionalist? Or what about the ritual roof burnings, where every five years all the straw roofs were burnt down by the Bluewing elder? Or… Why are you looking at me like that?” Gemma asked, the look he gave her suddenly stopping her from rattling on about old and forgotten traditions that had been left to the side because they were no longer civil or reasonable.
He eyed her as if he’d just seen her for the first time, as if she was standing there in front of him without a stitch of clothes to cover her, naked underneath his gaze. The way he pierced right through her, made Gemma question whether it really was such a good idea to come confront the man. He walked back to her from the window, standing so close to her that she could inhale his musky scent with each breath. His foreboding presence made her core throb and her knees wobble.
It was quite unfair, really – no man should be allowed to have that kind of effect on a woman.
“You’re right, my Gem,” he said, his tone sugary sweet now. “There have been plenty of traditions that have been forgotten. Not least of which is the fact that I do have a right to the most beautiful woman of my choosing. You’ve given me a great idea, Gem.” Without missing a beat, he raised his fingers to her chin and trekked a line down over her neck, finally stopping at the very collar of her shirt. Gemma was rooted in place, her heart pounding wildly, and his touch leaving a scorched trail where it crossed her skin, sending sparks of desire scuttling through her.
“What idea?”
“It is time to bring the forgotten traditions back to life. And I’ve chosen you.” He took a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered closed, long lashes resting on his cheeks. Devon almost looked gentle that way, though Gemma was in no condition to notice anything good, kind or nice about him at that very moment.
“What!?” she shrieked, drawing a chuckle from the man. He withdrew his hand, licking his lips like he was about to eat her up as color rose to her cheeks, tinting them with an angry red.
“You heard me. I’ll give you one night to gather your things from your home, and I expect you back here tomorrow. We will have the wedding in two weeks. I’ll send a servant down to help you fetch your things. I’m sure we’ll be happy together, Gemma.” He turned to leave, seemingly unfazed by the righteous indignation etched across Gemma’s features.
Who the fuck does he think he is!?
“Wait! You can’t do that!” she gasped, indignation fighting with all-out fury in her. Devon stopped, only half-turning to face her.
“Really? Who’s going to stop me?” he asked, a smirk perched on his lips.
“Um,” she mumbled, startled. Could he really be that full of himself? Probably. Yup, he definitely could be just that full of himself. “You have no right to demand that of me. I don’t have to agree to that!”
He seemed to ponder that for a moment, his blue eyes glancing downwards before locking on hers again, ferocious and full of certainty.
“No, you don’t. But if you don’t want to play by the rules, then there’s really nothing stopping me from burning Gold Valley down to the ground, is there? I mean, if the village doesn’t want to adhere to its side of the bargain, then why should I, hmm? Of course, your decision is your own.” With that, he gave her a wink and spun around, heading out of the library as if he’d just told her something completely casual and common, instead of the fact that he was going to ruin her life. She was left in the library, sputtering and shocked.
But, she knew exactly, who he was and why he thought he could do something like that. He was a dragon, and a dragon always got what he wanted.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gemma
“I didn’t agree to any of this,” Gemma grumbled audibly, receiving little more than a bored sigh from the steely-faced servant that was tasked with helping her settle in. Devon had given her a big bedroom right next to his, complete with a walk-in closet and a bathroom the size of a small spa. As much as her inner princess wanted to swoon and giggle, her outer feminist was completely outraged and aggravated.
She’d stomped home the previous night, certain that it had all been a bad dream, and she’d wake up any moment, but found that to be just wishful thinking as Devon’s henchmen showed up the next morning.
When she’d told the story to her parents, her father had frowned and shrugged, and her mother had been brimming with joy. Apparently, in the land of dragonkin, parents could imagine a much worse fate for their only daughter than being married off to a dashing billionaire dragon with more power than most of the free world put together.
“Well, it is tradition. And he seems like a nice boy,” her mother had said, to which Gemma had found countless examples to show that he was in fact the opposite of a nice boy, and that they should be as outraged as she was. Gemma was met with shrugs, and her mother had helped her pack. Railing and moaning about how it was improper and immoral of a dragon to demand a woman to be given to him just because he wanted her fell on deaf ears, and from what Gemma could tell, every word from her just made her mother beam that much brighter.
She’d given up after her third attempt at making her mother see how completely ludicrous the whole thing was. It was all rather less dramatic than she’d expected. And now, there she was, on the highest floor of the Bluewing mansion, set up in a room more lavish than anything she could have imagined, and told to dress and be ready for dinner with Devon.
“Master has left a dress for you on the bed,” the servant, Jolly, said as he left. There was nothing jolly about the puffy-faced lizard shifter, though. If anything, he looked like someone had cut one of the gargoyles off of the roof and dressed him in a tailored suit. It would have been funny, if she hadn’t been so damn pissed off at everything.
“What, he doesn’t even think I can dress myself? Like I’m a 3-year-old, who needs her clothes laid out?” she asked out loud, ignoring the fact that there was no one there to listen to her but herself. She walked to the bed and unzipped the garment bag, her curiosity getting the best of her outrage. The gown in it took her breath away. It was of emerald silk and as if made for her figure. The bodice was dappled with precious gems and pearls that dazzled in the light.
Right next to it on the bed sat a jewelry box. With trembling hands, she opened it, and the glint of gold that shone as she lifted the lid seemed almost blinding. The most gorgeous gold necklace with a huge emerald settled in golden engravings as a pendant rested on black suede. For a second, she considered taking it out and putting it on, just to see how it felt around her neck. Even though she was from a family of jewelers, that necklace was the most extravagant piece she had ever seen.
Gemma bit her lower lip, the princess in her letting herself be heard again.
Just one try? What could it do? No one would know!
She eyed it carefully, taking in even the slightest of details and marking the craftsmanship. She had a fairly good guess what school of thought it cam
e from, and she had to assume it was at least a couple of hundred years old because no one could engrave like that by hand anymore. The intricate detail work was gorgeous, and as much as the necklace was just a stunning piece of jewelry, it was also a testament of the breathtaking work of a good goldsmith.
A twinge of regret went through her, thinking about the years she had wasted, not focusing on her work. But through the musings, reality kicked in, punching her right in the gut. She couldn’t get lost in something like this. Devon couldn’t just buy her affection, even if necklaces like that were certainly one path to her heart – as much as she didn’t want to admit it.
No! You’re not that kind of girl! You’re only here so the mad bastard wouldn’t burn the village down. You can reason with him. He’s an intelligent man, even if he’s a bit off his rocker right now. But you’re not going to get lost in some damn Cinderella fairytale and start letting him get to you, no matter how deliciously sexy he is. Snap out of it!
With that, she slammed the box shut and slumped down to sit on the soft, comfortable down comforter on the bed. She thought it best to ignore the fact that she’d thought of the man as sexy, believing it to be one of those things better not analyzed.
There was no room to get infatuated with him or to get lost in some girly dream of a big white wedding and billionaire babies running around the mansion, their little bare feet pitter-pattering across the floor.
Who are you kidding? They’d probably all be shifters, flying around like demon bats. Is that the kind of life you want for yourself!?
Clearly, hysteria wasn’t far from setting in.
She pulled her hand through her hair, frustrated. The sound of rain hitting the walls and ground whispered into her thoughts, distracting her for just a moment. It had been uncharacteristically rainy in the valley in the last few days. Scraggly old maids would say that it only rained in Gold Valley when a Bluewing was aggravated, but Gemma had always thought that to be a bit of nonsense. Now, she wasn’t so sure. If anyone could make the weather change, she had to assume it was the blue-eyed demon, who was bringing her such heartache. Those eyes…
Her core throbbed with anxious need, and her lips thinned into a hard line. There she went again, letting emotions dictate what was really only a very simple matter of a crazed psycho demanding impossible things from her.
Stop it, Gemma.
How the hell had she managed to get herself roped into a pile of nonsense such as this? Had she done something particularly horrid in her life to make karma decide to come kick her ass? Or was it perhaps that she was just unlucky to have the universe’s weekly life-ruining quota dumped on her? She imagined that this would be a good time to cry a little, but sad was the last thing she felt.
No, Gemma Teeley wasn’t sad. She was angry. Furious, even. 27 years old, she had just returned home three months ago from an extensive stay at anywhere else but Gold Valley. Literally, she’d tried everything but coming back home. While dragons were swell, and living her life to the beat of the jewelry market was all that and more, she’d always known she wanted something different. She just wasn’t entirely sure what that was, and years of aimless wandering had only left her more confused.
So, for the past seven or so years, Gemma had been looking for what she wanted from life. So far, it had eluded her with masterful grace. She’d tried out at least three professions that had nothing to do with serving people coffee and donuts, and plenty of jobs that required just that, and found that she didn’t like any of them. Having grown up in a family of goldsmiths, she had the precise touch and sharp eye of one and the heart of an artist, but combining that with an insatiable desire for more didn’t leave much room for honing her craft.
Gemma knew that she was good at her family’s chosen profession, but living like every member of her family had for the past six generations, seemed like an awful waste of potential.
Or so she thought, though even Gemma had to admit that she had what it took to be excellent at the craft, and it was the only thing that really spoke to her. Sadly, she hadn’t yet figured out how to harness that potential for anything else that could keep a roof over her head, so when her mother called with news of her father’s health worsening, the decision to return home had come easily enough. Gold Valley was still better than a Starbucks in New York, even if it was lorded over by pompous dragons.
Or so she had thought. Gemma buried her face in her hands, sighing softly. This was not going as planned. When she’d decided to give Devon Bluewing a piece of her mind, her parents had told her that it was not likely to be a very good idea. Hell, anyone with a pulse had told her as much, and still she had decided to ignore them. As if she knew best!
The Bluewings had never taken kindly to being told what to do, and though over the generations, certain members of the family had been more forthcoming than others, Devon Bluewing certainly didn’t seem to belong to the more reasonable group of dragons. In retrospect, Gemma should have figured as much.
Reasonable dragon shifters didn’t drive Ferraris and bang models while they should have been learning how to run their lands from their aging fathers. As much as Dayton Bluewing had been a grump, at least he wouldn’t have condoned Devon’s actions… probably.
With a groan, Gemma remembered the tale of Dayton and Gabriella Bluewing. She too had been an offering, a girl from Gold Valley chosen by the great dragon himself. It seemed the odds were ever against Gemma. She had to admit, the universe had been doing a bang-up job at screwing with her plans lately. Never a dull moment in Gold Valley, it appeared – something that she certainly hadn’t been prepared for.
Maybe you can knock some sense into him. If not that, you could become so obnoxious that he won’t want to marry you. Shouldn’t be too hard. He’s a dragon – just about anything should annoy him. Note to self – drive Devon crazy before he drives you crazy.
Finally, she decided that she’d been wallowing in self-pity for long enough. If she was going to save herself from the fate of being a dragon’s wife, she’d better get on it. Gemma stood up and headed for the door, leaving the stunning dress and the breathtaking jewels on the bed. She was dressed in ragged jeans and a ratty tee that hugged her ample curves, and if he didn’t like it, well, screw him. Maybe it could be the first thing that would annoy him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gemma
Gemma huffed, stalking out of the room and heading for the stairs that led downstairs and into the dining room. She’d got a quick tour as she was brought in earlier, though her, ahem, fiancée, had made himself scarce during her arrival – no way to begin a relationship built on mutual love and respect. Gemma wandered through the halls, looking for the dining room. Jolly had shown her the way but she’d been far too pissed off to really pay attention to anything when she had arrived.
Her boots made the plush carpets scrunch under her steps, and the evening sun shining in through the floor to ceiling windows made everything glimmer a little, as if the entire interior of the mansion were dusted with gold. Knowing the dragon’s penchant for shiny things, it wouldn’t have surprise Gemma one bit to find that just that was true.
Finally, she was met with a heavy oak door that was slightly ajar, delicious smells wafting out into the hallway through the crack. She sniffed, and the distinct smell of lobster filled her nostrils. Gemma pulled the door open, quickly discovering that her stomach was growling. No wonder, seeing as she’d also been too peeved to really eat since her chat with Devon. The dining room was huge, like all things in the mansion, the heavy table that could seat twenty only set for two.
She caught the last glimpse of a servant scuttling out through another exit just as she stepped in and Devon was pouring himself a glass of whiskey by the bar, his back turned to her.
Gemma froze, not sure what to do. On the one hand, she wanted to yell and scream at him for being a total, incomprehensible jerk, and on the other hand, she really wanted to sit down and have some dinner. Or even look at that wide back a moment longer.<
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As she was pondering her options, Devon called out without sparing her a look.
“What’s your poison, Gem?” He startled her, but the nickname made her bristle enough that she didn’t pay any heed to the way her heart was pounding in her chest.
“It’s Gemma. And rum and coke, if you have it,” she said.
Getting a drink? That’s not smart!
But she bet it was just what she needed to keep from blowing up at Devon before they’d got two sentences in. She tried to urge herself to play it smooth, keep her temper down and just try to fight this battle with logic. And rum.
“Have a seat, Gem,” he said without missing a beat, obviously committed to aggravating her further with that horrid nickname. As if she was some little trinket in his hoard, only there to amuse him when he felt like it. With a grumbled sigh, Gemma sat down at the table and soon found herself gratefully nursing a rum and coke as Devon took a seat next to her.
“I see you didn’t appreciate my taste in clothing,” he said drily, giving her a measuring look. She stuck her chin up a little, fighting a blush. So she wasn’t dressed like she was going to the Oscars – he’d have to deal with that. Gemma wasn’t that kind of girl. If he wanted someone that lounged around in elegant dresses all day and looked pretty, he shouldn’t have roped himself a woman whose idea of hell was wearing high heels.
He looked effortlessly chic, though, and even more mouthwatering than the food stacked on the table. Clad in all black, he kept with his monochrome choice of fashion, but his shirt was unbuttoned just enough to give Gemma a hint of that perfect body hidden underneath, and his blue eyes seemed to shine with even more intensity than the night before. When he sat down next to her, she had real trouble keeping her wits about her.
