by Jada Cox
Bad Dragon
A Dragon Shifter Romance
Dragon Mansion Book 2
Jada Cox
Copyright © 2020 by Jada Cox.
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of the book only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form, including recording, without prior written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1 – Cora
Chapter 2 – Julian
Chapter 3 – Cora
Chapter 4 – Julian
Chapter 5 – Cora
Chapter 6 – Julian
Chapter 7 – Cora
Chapter 8 – Cora
Chapter 9 – Julian
Chapter 10 – Cora
Chapter 11 – Julian
Chapter 12 – Cora
Chapter 13 – Julian
Chapter 14 – Cora
Chapter 15 – Julian
Epilogue – Cora
About Jada Cox
Books by Jada Cox
Chapter 1 – Cora
It was my breath that woke me. I became conscious of the deep inhale I was taking, the warmth of the morning sun coming through my window, and the comfort of having a good night’s rest.
It’s morning? I thought with a sudden panic. I sat upright in bed and looked at my clock. It was eight-thirty.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I muttered to myself as I threw the blankets off me and ran into the bathroom. My alarm had gone off an hour later than I was certain I’d set it for. I needed to be at the office in less than 45 minutes, and I couldn’t be late, not today.
I jumped into the shower, bearing the jarring cold water while it struggled to get up to temperature, then shrieking when it decided to jump to scalding hot. I had lived in that apartment for three years with my roommate Margaret, and I didn’t think I was ever going to get used to the stupid taps in it.
I tried to calm the annoyance at myself by humming something, anything, but all I could think of was “Happy Birthday,” and that just felt weird to hum to myself while I rush-washed myself. I reached for the conditioner only to find that it was empty.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, resisting to throw the bottle against the wall. It was Margaret’s turn to buy the toiletries, and either she had and hadn’t put it in the bathroom yet or had forgotten completely. Either way, I was looking at a day with ratty hair that wouldn’t be tamed by my comb nor magic. My dark brown hair that for some reason I loved to keep long was a nightmare when it didn’t get its beauty care. I often said that any form of a diva personality that I could have had was long devoured by my hair.
“Please be nice to me,” I said to my hair as I got out of the shower and wrapped it in a towel.
I rushed into the kitchen and stuck some toast in the toaster and filled a glass with water. I’d have to get coffee later. I didn’t have time to wait for it to brew. Water was my only option. Which might be a good thing. I had once read about some study that said the brain works best after a glass of water, and that water should always be consumed before a test.
I glanced at the clock on the microwave and hurried back into the bathroom, hoping that I would have the patience to comb through my hair without yanking it all out. I already knew I was going to need to book a hairdressing appointment just to deal with whatever damage I was about to bestow on it.
“I just have to keep my hair long. All the nice girls have long hair. It’ll look more professional,” I muttered in a mocking tone to myself as I began brushing it from the ends up. I hated brushing my hair while it was wet, but I wasn’t going to have any time at all to even run the blow dryer.
I couldn’t believe it. The first time I’d been tapped in to fly solo without my boss, and I was running late.
When Jeremy had phoned me to say he had been admitted into the hospital for kidney stones, I had no idea what he was doing calling me of all people. I was just an underling at the company, barely out of my internship. Then he’d told me that he wanted me to take over his projects while he was out, and I just about dropped the phone. I even had to think about what time of the year it was, wondering if it was an April Fool’s prank or something.
I, of course, was more than happy to accept the responsibility, that was, until I began to psych myself out. It was one thing staying in the office and listening to everything going on and making my own mental designs for projects. But it was another thing entirely to actually be set free on the home of a client and without any supervision at that.
But then again, part of my internship had been to express ideas to show what we were capable of. That was how I’d landed a permanent position with the company in the first place. They had rejected all but two of my ideas, but that was to be expected. Now, there wasn’t anyone to reject my ideas other than the client.
It was thirty minutes from when my alarm went off to when I was out the door, cold, butter-less toast in my mouth as I scurried out the door in such a way that the crumbs wouldn’t fall down my shirt and into my bra. There was nothing worse than crumbs in your cleavage.
I checked the address for the first appointment for the day and set my map there. I lived on the opposite side of Rock Creek, which wasn’t a big town. I was only a five-minute drive from the office, but I didn’t have time to stop there, as much as I wanted to in case there were any necessary files for me. My first appointment was on the far northern edge of the town, and even then, an extra mile.
As my car curved around the winding road up the hill, I tried to remind myself that I was capable of doing this job. I had always had a flair for decoration ever since I was a kid, and this was my time to shine. My first real account, even though technically it wasn’t mine. But it could be the thing that led to my own accounts.
I parked the car and checked my email on my phone, looking for any emails from Jeremy. Nothing.
“Crap,” I said. No notes meant I was going in a little bit blind. Not only was I going to this place completely underprepared, but I was also going to have to BS this, somehow. That was not exactly one of my strong suits. So much so that I always made sure I was prepared. I was like a girl scout. Except I wasn’t selling cookies. I was selling high-end interior decorating.
I shoved my phone in my purse and got out the car. For the first time, I realized just what the hell I was looking at.
The house was massive, like a mansion. I knew that Jeremy had been working this account for a few weeks now at this point, so some of the decorating was likely to be done, but I still had no idea what I was about to walk into.
I felt the urge to check my phone again to make sure I hadn’t missed an email with important information, but I knew that I was already late. If I was going to make a positive impression, I needed to hurry up.
In my low heels and knee-length skirt suit, I did my best to hurry up the drive to the front door where I rang the doorbell, which was answered almost instantly.
The beautifully carved door opened up to reveal a beautifully carved man. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Seriously, I was actually coughing because I choked on air.
“Are you alright?” the guy said, a warm smile on his face. He had one of those hair cuts that was short but parted in the middle, coming forward in a 90’s teen heart-throb style, and even better, he had that just-rolled-out-of-bed-look that suggested that moments before he had been, at the very least, shirtless.
“I’m—I’m fine,” I said. I barely managed to get the words out of my mouth. “I’m Cora Stein. I’m filling in for Jeremy Roberts?”
I put out my hand trying not to stare at his smile too much. It was nothing short of dazzling. I had been known to get starstruck at the ver
y idea of meeting a celebrity, and this guy in this kind of house felt like meeting one. There was something about him that put him on a pedestal far above us mere mortals of Rock Creek, and I wondered just what the hell he was doing in a place like this.
He took my hand. “Julian,” he said. He held my hand for just a little too long, and I felt heat overwhelm me.
Oh god, I’m blushing, I thought with horror.
Julian’s smile widened as he let go of my hand and stepped aside. “Come in. Would you like some coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”
“God, yes,” I blurted, then gasped. “I’m so sorry, that wasn’t professional at all.”
Julian laughed. “I like it. You’re up front.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” I said, forcing a smile. At least Julian had a sense of humor.
He led me toward the kitchen. The house was beautiful. I could already see Jeremy’s style all over the place. Clearly, they had settled on a gray and white theme with a color splash. I would have to see if that was something that was going to change throughout the house or if that was just for the main part of the mansion.
“How do you like your coffee?” Julian asked as we veered to the left and around the corner into a massive kitchen with windows that overlooked the neighborhood and—was that a walk-in pantry? “We’ve got flavored creamers, milk, almond milk, sugar, sweeteners, name your poison.”
“If you have just plain creamer, that would be great,” I said. “Thank you.”
“You look like you’ve had a rough start to the day,” he said.
My hand shot to my hair, feeling how unmanageable it had become. Of course it had frizzed beyond possibility. I hadn’t even had time to throw on any makeup. I probably looked like a down right horror.
I tried to laugh it off. “You know how it goes. Just one of those days.”
“A morning with me, and you’ll be right as rain,” he said pouring the coffee.
Oh my god, he just winked at me. I must have imagined it. Maybe some of that wonderful hair of his got in his eye, and that was what I was seeing. It wasn’t a wink at all, not with me looking like I just rolled out of a dumpster.
“I do have to apologize, though,” I said, trying to ignore that my brain was telling me Julian was flirting with me. “I was handed this job very last-minute. I don’t even have any of the notes regarding what you and Jeremy have been discussing. You’ll have to catch me up.”
“Left you high and dry, did he?” Julian asked, pouring some creamer into my cup and passing it over to me. “What a monster.”
There. He did it again.
He actually is flirting with me, I thought. I have to stay professional. This is my shot. I cannot hit on clients or let clients think they’re hitting on me.
This was going to be hard. Somewhere in his house was his bed, the place where he slept, that involved sheets, where presumably other people slept or that they at least experienced from time to time. I could be one of—
No! I scolded myself. You’re a professional.
“Would you like to show me where you left off?” I suggested, clearing my throat as I accepted the coffee he passed to me.
“Sure,” he said. “We were just going to start on the basement.” He came around the counter to show me the way, and I moved forward to join him. That fantastic smile of his never faltered as if it were a permanent fixture of his face. It was mesmerizing.
So much so that it turned out I had the complete inability to pick my feet up off the ground. As my knees tried to carry me forward and my chin was held at a respectable and confident level, my feet wouldn’t budge.
I gasped as I lunged forward at him, the coffee flying forward and splashing all over Julian. As the mug smashed against the tiled floor, my arms flailed, and like a slow-motion reel, his heavily-muscled arms came up to catch me.
He was hot to the touch, burning with coffee and his very own alluring heat. My head pressed against his chest for just a moment as I tried to regain my footing, the heels of my shoes struggling to gain any traction.
“Oh god! I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, remembering I could use my arms to brace myself against him. My fingers made contact with the ridges of his forearms, and I nearly lost balance again. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“Are you alright?” Julian asked for the second time in five minutes. I was so blowing this.
“I’m so sorry, Julian. I—”
“Cora,” he said, leaning back so he could get closer to my eyelevel as he still held on to me. “Are you alright?”
I stopped, and, while trying not to let the heat raise to my face, I looked up at him like an embarrassed child and nodded. “Thank you.”
He helped me stabilize and chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I don’t have a washing machine here.”
“I can’t believe I just threw that coffee—and I broke your mug too. I’m so sorry,” I stammered, looking down at the crushed mess on the floor. “I’ll replace it. I promise. I can’t believe I did that.”
“You’ll just have to make it up to me somehow then,” he said, looking me straight in the eye, his smile cemented in place.
With that, his arms left mine, and I felt myself go dizzy as those strong arms crossed and pulled up his coffee-stained shirt. It was like watching art create itself as the shirt lifted to reveal a mess of defined muscles, a wisp of body hair, and pectoral muscles that made me want to weep at the sight of them.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “I’m just going to get another shirt.”
Before he turned, he did it again. He winked. At me. There was no mistaking it.
I held tightly onto the countertop to stop myself from falling over again as he jogged up the stairs.
Chapter 2 – Julian
I chuckled to myself as I got a fresh shirt from my bedroom. That girl was too cute for words and a very pleasant surprise. Jeremy hadn’t said he wasn’t going to be in today, so finding Miss Stein on my doorstep was unexpected.
She’d looked ruffled when I opened the door, like maybe her morning wasn’t going as well as she’d planned but she was going to try to wing it anyway. She was a bit shorter than I was, which wasn’t saying much. I was a pretty tall guy. She had a round face and round dark brown eyes. When she tried to force a smile, those eyes lit up, and dimples appeared on her cheeks. If I hadn’t managed that glimpse of dishevelment as I opened the door, I would never have thought she was faking the smile.
I didn’t usually strip in front of people I hired for a job, but I lost track of my proprieties with her. The urge I got when I saw an attractive woman at a bar or beach, the urge to propel me to get her attention took hold of me with Cora Stein, and without thinking, I had happily removed my shirt.
It seemed like she wasn’t quite used to men doing that in front of her. There was something hot about that.
I hopped down the stairs to find her clearing up the broken cup with a dustpan and brush and a roll of paper towel next to her.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I said. “Here, let me.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Cora said.
She was trying so hard. I wondered if this was her first job like this, or if she was just nervous around new people. Or maybe I put her on edge. There was an innocence to her that I found charming.
But there was more than that. As soon as I saw her, I felt it immediately, that thing that I had been told all of my very long life that I would know when I experienced it: this girl was my mate.
My mate. Of all the places to meet her, right here in my home was the very location, the place where we would be telling our children about our love story, about how we came together for the first time. My front door. For the first time, I felt truly certain that our decision to settle down and have a house after years of being on the road was the right decision.
All of it had come to this.
And this poor girl looked terrified. It was her innocence that was scaring her, at
least, I thought that was it at the core. I was coming on strong, I knew I was, but that was only because I knew how destined we were to be together. That’s what mates were, right? Wasn’t that the things about mates, fate providing a meddling hand to ensure that two people came together?
Except Cora was a human. I knew that humans didn’t have the concept of mates, not in the same sense that we shifters did. She might not feel the pull like I did. I might have to scale my flirting down a little. I certainly didn’t want to scare her off.
“I would never forgive myself if that cup cut you,” I said. “I insist.”
I stooped down and gently took the brush and pan from her fingers, letting mine move over her hands as I did so. It wasn’t just me. I could feel her attraction to me as well.
“Would you like a fresh cup?” I offered as I finished what she had already mostly done.
“I’d better not,” she said quietly. “I don’t need to paint your walls coffee-colored. Unless, of course, you like that color.”
I chuckled. “I actually do. I tell you what, I’ll get you another cup, and if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll get you a travel cup that has a lid.”
She giggled at this. There it was, a crack in that nervous shell of hers. She had a beautiful smile, even if she was reluctant to let it shine. “Alright.”
I made her a fresh cup of coffee, put it in my favorite travel mug, and handed it to her.
“I was thinking,” she said. “You should probably give me a tour of the whole house, at least of what Jeremy’s done so far so I can get an idea of the style he’s after while we talk ideas for the basement.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “Shall I take you upstairs first?”
I laughed as Cora just about sputtered her sip of coffee. “That’s hot,” she said, then her eyes widened in horror. “The coffee, I mean. The coffee is hot.”
“I’ll show you this floor first then,” I said, resisting telling her how adorable she was when she was nervous. “We’re pretty content with the kitchen. We have some temporary bar stools, but Jeremy said he had an idea for the dining area and some matching pieces to replace these ones we have here.”
