by Donna Grant
Devon sat back and began to read the newest blog post titled Can’t Get it Right.
* * *
I thought taking a little break from dating might work. Boy, was I wrong. I even asked all of my “must” questions through our interaction online. He passed those, which led to me giving him my number.
We spoke on the phone and via text for a week before our first date. I actually thought I’d found someone I could have a second date with. (I’ve learned the hard way not to look for more than that. Sad, I know.)
I’ve had friends tell me I have rather high expectations. So? Why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t we all? We know what we’d like in a significant other. We know what we’re looking for.
That then = high expectations.
Why should I keep that hidden? Why should I pretend I want something other than what I really want? Men certainly don’t.
I began this blog as a way to help me sort through what was becoming a hopeless process. I don’t claim to be an expert in anything, but I can—and have—spoken about my horrid dates.
Last night was no exception. The gentleman I thought I’d accepted a date from turned out to be a frog of the worst kind. I won’t post details—for obvious reasons—since this blog has become so popular.
But let me tell you this … internet searches, people. Do them.
I’m going to leave it right there because I’m betting you can guess why I ended the date early.
Yeah. Another flop.
And why I always arrive separately for my dates.
* * *
Devon clicked off the blog. Dating shouldn’t be so hard, but it was. And since she didn’t like to fail at anything, she kept putting herself out there.
The blog always made her feel a little better about her current love life—or lack thereof. Because she wasn’t the only one lacking in that department. She really wished she knew the owner of the blog because she’d love to sit down and talk with her.
Devon focused back on the reports until it was time for her meeting. Then she was back in her office, finishing her comparison of the teams to see who needed improvement and who was on the right track.
The next time she looked up, it was lunch. She grabbed her coat and purse and headed to the elevators. Many times she ate at her desk and worked through lunch, but today she was deviating from her routine.
She walked out into the cold and looked around, deciding where she wanted to eat. Bypassing the fish and chips stand, she made her way to a café. The smell of freshly made soups had her stomach rumbling in eager anticipation of tasting the delicacies.
As she got in the queue, she read the menu, deciding on a bowl of smoked haddock chowder and half a toasted cheese sandwich. She ordered and paid. It wasn’t until she turned to find a table that she bumped into someone.
“I’m sorry,” she said and looked up to find an older man who was frowning at her.
“Watch where you’re going,” he grumbled.
Devon shook her head. Then her gaze landed outside the café through the windows on a gorgeous male specimen in a thin, blue sweater who had everyone looking his way.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered. Muscular without being overly large. He walked as if he didn’t notice or care about the world around him. His cap was pulled low, preventing her from getting a good view of his profile. She wished she could see the face that matched his long, black hair and mouthwatering body.
When he turned the corner and disappeared from sight, she realized she still stood in the middle of the restaurant. Chuckling to herself, she found a table and waited for her food. As she ate, she watched the passers-by through the café window, hoping she might get another look at the man.
There was something about him that had drawn her attention and made her forget herself. It could be the way he’d held himself—confidently. Strong and assertive.
She’d always enjoyed men who possessed such traits. Not that she wanted to be bossed around. No, what she wanted was a man. Not these metrosexual guys who cared about getting their nails manicured, waxing their eyebrows, or finding the right pair of shoes.
Where were the men who didn’t care about breaking into a sweat? The ones who didn’t mind working with their hands and getting dirty?
“Stop it,” she berated herself.
It wasn’t doing her any good to continue dreaming of the kind of man that obviously didn’t exist in London. That kind of guy would be far from the city. Which made it worse for her since her life was here.
But it didn’t matter what she told herself. It wasn’t that she minded being alone. In fact, she rather liked it. It was the loneliness that got her, and it wasn’t going away anytime soon.
All that did was make her focus more on work. It was all she had.
When lunch was finished, she remained a little longer. Everywhere she looked, she saw happy couples holding hands, smiling, gazing into each other’s eyes, and kissing.
It made her present situation all the more painful. Finally, she’d had enough and left the restaurant to make her way back to Kyvor. When she looked down the street before crossing the road, she could’ve sworn she saw a glimpse of the hunk from earlier.
She blinked, and he was gone. Obviously, she was seeing things. For all she knew, the man could be ugly, married, or both.
Making her way into the building, her spirits were dimmed. Normally, it was the office that reminded her of all she had. After the meeting tomorrow, she might take a few vacation days and get out of the city.
Maybe that’s exactly what she needed. She’d been working nonstop for months with no downtime. She even took work home on the weekends.
She pushed the button for the lift. Seconds later, it dinged. A man in a steel gray suit moved around her to hold the door open. She looked into gold eyes set in a gorgeous face. His black hair was long and pulled back in a queue. He had a little gray at his temples, but that didn’t distract from his handsomeness.
“After you,” he replied in a cultured British accent.
She smiled and walked onto the lift. He followed a moment later and raised a brow with his hand held over the various buttons.
“Twenty, please,” she said.
He punched the button, then hit thirty for himself. She’d never seen him before, but obviously, he knew the top executives. She eyed the tailored suit and how it fit his well-honed body. When she looked into his face, his gaze was locked on her.
“Do you work here?” he asked.
She quite liked the way he let his appreciation of her show in his expression. The attention bolstered her confidence. She always did love to flirt. “I do. You?”
“No. I have some interests in the company, however.”
The bell dinged a moment before the doors opened to her floor. “Good day,” she said and started to walk out.
But he stopped the doors before they could close and said, “It will be now.”
She stopped and turned to him. It wasn’t until the doors tried to close again that she realized they’d been staring at each other. She looked at the floor before smiling up at him.
“Perhaps I’ll see you again,” he said.
“I’d like that.”
He dropped his hand, and the doors closed. It was only then that she realized she hadn’t gotten his name or given him hers. That was too bad because he seemed nice. And he was incredibly gorgeous.
Could she have finally met someone worth a second date?
Devon’s smile was back in place as she made her way to her office and her meeting with Madeline Sharp.
CHAPTER THREE
In order to win in this epic battle, they had to choose the right allies. Right now, Anson wasn’t so sure the woman Kinsey and Esther had chosen was the right one. In fact, the more he watched Devon, the more he was sure they’d gotten it wrong.
Kinsey picked Devon because she was high up enough in the company to get the information they needed. Esther wanted Devon because
she was certain Devon would want the truth once she saw enough to get her looking.
But all he saw when he looked at Devon was a woman who was happy. Did they have a right to shatter that? There was a smile on her face each time she walked into the Kyvor building. That meant she enjoyed her job. Because of that, she wouldn’t willingly turn against the company that had given her so much.
Nothing he said could dissuade either of the girls enough to pick another person, however. So he’d trailed Devon during her lunch, while Kinsey and Esther dug into her life.
He’d been surprised to see Devon eating alone. Not that it seemed to bother her. She watched others with curiosity, though he noted that she took particular interest in groups of two. As if she were trying to decipher how each relationship worked.
Several times, she would study couples for long periods of time, her brow furrowed. He wondered what it was that the men who looked her way lacked since she showed no interest in them.
The fact that she was comfortable eating alone told him a lot about her. She was content with herself like few people were. She didn’t need someone with her to put her at ease.
It was his job to keep an eye on her, and he had to admit, it was a duty he enjoyed. Babysitting he might not like, but looking at a beautiful woman would never get old. It was during his observation that he saw flashes of loneliness in her blue eyes. And he found himself wondering what could bring about such an emotion.
Now that Devon was back in the building, all he could do was wait for her to show herself again. At least the girls were safely ensconced in the flat that was fortified with dragon magic.
No Fae—Light or Dark—would be able to get past his spells. Because as powerful as a Fae or even a Druid was, nothing was more potent than dragon magic.
He hated sitting around waiting for something to do. Especially when there was a building full of people trying to hurt him and his family. He wanted action.
It was too bad that Asher had been sent to Paris for the World Whisky Consortium. That actually sounded like something fun. Anson would’ve liked that assignment. Instead, he was waiting for Kinsey’s and Esther’s plans to proceed while he spied on a gorgeous woman, who was about to have her world upended.
It seemed wrong to bring Devon into their war. He’d wanted to find a way into Kyvor himself, but no one liked that idea.
There was a nudge in his mind before he heard Constantine say his name. Anson opened the mental link shared by all dragons. “Aye?”
“How are things progressing?” Con asked.
He ground his teeth together. “Slowly.”
“There’s been a development. I’ve sent Dmitri to Fair Isle where an archeologist has found what she believes is a dragon skeleton.”
“What?”
“That was my same reaction.”
As King of the Dragon Kings, it was up to Con to make such decisions, and Anson was glad he wasn’t in Con’s place. “How does Dmitri feel about returning to his home?”
“About as happy as you were about being sent to London.”
“That good, huh?” At least Anson wasn’t the only one on an assignment he wished he wasn’t.
But every Dragon King made sacrifices.
“I just spoke with Ryder,” Con said. “He reports that Kinsey and Esther found their mark.”
“Aye.”
“You doona sound as if you agree.”
Anson blew out a breath. “I still think I could do this with Ryder hacking into their computers while I enter the building. I’m no’ sure this Devon Abrams is the one.”
“The lasses are adamant that it’s Devon they need.”
“I’ll do what needs to be done. The girls will be protected, and we’ll get the information one way or another.”
“Without anything coming back on Dreagan,” Con stated in a hard tone.
“That goes without saying.”
Con sighed loudly. “I know we’re taking a chance with this.”
“A big one, but I agree it needs to be done. I just wish the girls were no’ here.”
“We’re taking a huge risk with you being there. If Kyvor really does know all of the Dragon Kings, then I can no’ send anyone else to help you.”
Anson glared at the building that held the root of their problem. “It willna be needed.”
“This is why I sent you and none of the others. I know you hate inactivity, but you can control your anger until the time comes to unleash it.”
Con did know him well. “I’ll unleash hell on them.”
“I wish I could be there when you do. I’d like to extract my own brand of justice.”
He heard the longing and fury in Con’s words. Now he began to understand the pressure that rested on the King of King’s shoulders because part of that was now on him.
“I’m going to have Ryder send you information on Miss Abrams,” Con said.
“Good. I know the girls are doing their own digging, but Ryder knows how to find things others can no’.”
“Kinsey has already asked him for help. Knowing Ryder, it shouldna take long.”
Anson crossed the road and hid behind a building. “I’ll let you know as soon as we have anything.”
“Be safe,” Con said before severing the link.
Anson squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Control. That’s what Con thought Anson had. Perhaps it was control, but he wasn’t sure anymore.
Most likely, it was the fact that he hadn’t been able to act on any of the many—and various—impulses over the last ten thousand years.
Because if he ever let go, if he ever gave up that control, he’d likely destroy anything and everything around him.
Did Con comprehend that he’d potentially put a ticking time bomb in the middle of London? The pressure to remain detached from all of it weighed heavily upon Anson.
Why couldn’t things be as easy as before the humans? How he longed to once more return to the time when dragons ruled the earth. When all he had to worry about was keeping the peace between his dragons and finding a mate.
Life had been simple then. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but looking back, he’d taken it all for granted. Every second of it. Now, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to return to that fabled time.
His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he saw Ulrik walk from the Kyvor building.
“I knew it,” he murmured to himself.
Then he frowned. There was something different about Ulrik. Two men flanked him on either side as if bodyguards or something. Since when did Ulrik need guards?
There was also the matter of the gray at his temples. Had Ulrik taken to altering his appearance? If so, why not go further to make it more difficult to recognize him? Just what was the banished Dragon King up to now?
Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. It wasn’t coincidence that Ulrik was at the very building the Kings were investigating.
It confirmed what Anson already knew—Kyvor had gotten their intel from none other than Ulrik. The tiny thread of hope that his old friend could be redeemed was now as distant as a memory.
If Ulrik could give up the Kings and Dreagan as effortlessly as he had to those at Kyvor, then he was beyond saving. Con would have to kill him when it came time for the two to battle.
Because that time was drawing ever closer. Anson could sense that the end was nigh. The only one ever capable of taking down Con was Ulrik, but the once best friends had never fought.
Mainly because Ulrik hadn’t wanted to be King of Kings. All he’d ever wanted was to rule his Silvers. That had been shattered when the human female Ulrik had wanted to take as his mate betrayed him.
It was Con who discovered her treachery and gathered all the Kings but Ulrik. In an effort to keep the worst from their friend, the Dragon Kings had cornered the mortal and killed her.
Ulrik, however, wasn’t relieved, even when he’d learned the truth of what she was about. Instead, he’d lashed out at the humans,
attacking them and starting a war.
After thousands of dragons had been slaughtered, Con bade all the Kings call their dragons and send them to another realm over the dragon bridge. Once they were safe, the Kings turned their attention to Ulrik.
It had taken a lot to stop him. They’d only done it by combining their magic to bind his. Con then banished Ulrik from Dreagan and made him walk the earth for eternity as the very thing he hated—a mortal.
Now, Ulrik was after revenge. He’d set his sights on Con, and wouldn’t stop until one of them was dead. If Con won, everything would return to how it was with the Kings hiding in plain sight.
If Ulrik won … the mortals would be wiped from the world. The Kings’ dragons would be allowed to return, and they could live as intended.
Anson wasn’t sure which scenario he wanted. After so many centuries living among the humans, how different would it be to return to a time before them?
He watched as Ulrik got into the back of a car before it drove away. He wanted to follow it and find out where else Ulrik was going, but Anson remained hidden. Ulrik wasn’t his mission. At least, not now.
He opened his mental link and said Ryder’s name. As soon as Ryder responded, Anson said, “I just saw Ulrik.”
“He’s in London?”
“Aye. He got into a black Jaguar.”
There was a pause before Ryder said, “Facial recognition just confirmed he was there. The new software I coded last night is in place to follow him.”
“We’ve been looking for him a long time.”
“Aye. That’s what concerns me.”
Anson heard the worry in Ryder’s voice. “Meaning?”
“Ulrik goes to great lengths no’ to be seen. Why would he change that now?”
“He wasna alone. There were two men with him.”
“Like guards?” Ryder asked in confusion.
“Just like that.”
“Ulrik doesna need guards.”
Anson moved to better see the front doors of Kyvor. “I know. This could be a trick of some kind. It was Ulrik, but no’ him.”
“I’m enhancing the picture now. Oh, you mean the gray in his hair?”
