by Ophelia Bell
Pomona laughed. “She’s a woman after my own heart. Lead on, then.”
He took her beneath a breezeway that connected the kitchen to the west wing of the house.
“Bryer’s quarters are through there. He’s only been here about a month since his injury, but I think Ig’s talked him into staying permanently.”
“And where are my erstwhile employers?” she asked, intensely curious to meet the two men now that she’d heard more about them.
“They’re down on the lower level in the gym right now. We’ll get there in a bit.”
The breezeway led out onto a meandering deck with a breathtaking view of the lake. Levi paused at the railing and leaned back, making a little sweeping gesture.
“You can make yourself at home in the communal areas. There are a couple other members of the staff who live here, including me, Ren the housekeeper, and her mate, Aldus, who takes care of the garden and the grounds. Mondaro’s here during the day, but lives in a cabin up the mountain so he just flies down when he’s needed. He’s the only one who ever uses the hot tub here besides Ig and Bry. You’re welcome to it whenever—the gym, too, as long as they’re not training.”
She nodded as he continued leading her around the well-kept house, explaining which areas were accessible and which weren’t. The place was huge, and she was about to politely excuse herself to the kitchen to start working on her menu for the week.
“Just a bit more,” Levi said, urging her on.
They made their way down a set of stone steps to the lower level of the house and an expansive stone terrace overlooking the lake. The sounds of hand-to-hand combat echoed across the terrace as they crossed it. The entire southern wall of the house facing the lake was glass.
Beyond the gorgeous reflection of the lake, Pomona had a clear view of the interior, which was a gymnasium spanning half the lower level of the house. Inside were a pair of huge men, grappling with each other like professional wrestlers on a mat. Their shirtless bodies bulged with muscles coated in a sheen of sweat. She could make out dark tattoos that covered much of one man’s arms and the other’s entire back as he threw his opponent down and pinned him.
As she watched, the victor let out a roar of triumph. In a move so sudden it startled her, the man on the ground pushed back, throwing his opponent off and propelling himself up in a movement she couldn’t track. The winner stumbled, but Pomona’s eyes were fixed on the expanse of huge, blue wings that had erupted from the other man’s shoulder blades.
“Oh, my god!” she exclaimed.
Beside her, Levi chuckled. “That’s Bryer. His wings weren’t damaged, so he can still hold his own in most matches. The pair of them together are unbeatable when they’re in top form.”
Behind the two men, there was a third dressed in comfortable pajama-like garb that did nothing to disguise the sturdy brawn of his body. Gold eyes caught hers and he nodded, then said something she couldn’t hear through the glass.
The two men who’d been fighting—her employers, she guessed—faced off against each other in the center of the mat again.
“Ah, well. Sorry about this—it doesn’t look like they’re ready for a break,” Levi said. “I was hoping to introduce you, but they’re pretty serious about the training this summer. You’ll have to introduce yourself when they come up for dinner.”
Levi started walking again. As she followed him, she turned back to glance over her shoulder at the pair of sweaty, larger-than-life men. As though in perfect sync, their heads turned, and she was speared with a pair of intense gazes—one red, the other blue.
Pomona’s breath caught in her throat at the pure, primal power in their stares. Her skin flushed with heat and her nipples tightened beneath her blouse. For a second, she almost wished she’d given in to Gerri’s other offer—the one to match her up for a date with a shifter male. If there were more like those two, how could any woman go wrong?
“You okay?” Levi asked, snapping her back to the present.
“I’m good!” she said in an almost too chipper voice. She cleared her throat and jogged to catch up with him. “Just fine, I mean. How ’bout you show me that kitchen?”
And with any luck, it would have a freezer she could stand in for a few minutes to cool off after the ovary-exploding sight she’d just seen.
Thankfully, Levi seemed like just a normal guy. He had a good foot of height and fifty pounds of muscle on any human man, but looking at him didn’t provoke any untoward fantasies. His demeanor reminded Pomona of her little brother—young, energetic, and eager to please, but very serious about his job. She got the sense that he idolized the two men in the gym, and no wonder.
“The other man down there … was that Mondaro?”
He nodded. “Their trainer. Don’t worry, though. You’re only on task to cook for the guys. Bry and Ig, I mean. The rest of us see to our own meals.”
“I know … Nessa filled me in on what I’d be doing. I was just curious. Is he a dragon, too? And what about you?”
“Who, me?” He gave her a surprised look, pausing in front of the glass doors leading into the kitchen. “No … cheetah here. Mondaro is very much a dragon, though. Former arena duo world champion until his partner—that’d be Ig’s dad, Mr. Karsten—retired. Mondaro has trained those two since they were in diapers.”
Pomona smiled. “That is pretty much impossible to picture. Men like them spring fully formed from the foreheads of the gods, don’t they?”
Levi smiled politely. “I don’t know about that, but they sure work for it. Anyway, here you are. If you need anything, you can just use the communicator to buzz me or Ren anytime.”
Pomona waved goodbye and stood staring off into the garden for a few minutes, still absorbing this strange new world she’d stumbled into. Then she turned and grasped the door handles and stepped into the kitchen, her body buzzing from head to toe like she was a kid on Christmas morning.
Chapter Seven
“Who was that?” Bryer asked, blinking and staring off after the vision that had just passed by outside. He still wasn’t sure he believed his eyes, but his dragon was roaring and flexing inside him like it itched to shift and chase after her.
Ignazio took a second to answer, and when Bryer glanced at him, he saw the other man looking just as dazed as he felt.
“No idea …” Ignazio murmured.
“That, boys, was my other half. Now focus!” Mondaro barked, clapping his hands to draw them back to their training.
The comment instantly set Bryer’s hackles up. “No way in hell she’s yours, old man.”
“Not mine, you fool. She’s Nessa’s replacement. Gonna get your souls right from the inside out, the way I get them from the outside in. She meets me halfway, you numbskulls get to win another season. Heavy burden she bears now, so try not to make it any harder on her than you make it on me, got it?”
Bryer nodded, some of his tension easing. He shouldn’t have assumed Mondaro meant that voluptuous blonde vision was his mate. Something like that shouldn’t matter one whit to him. She was Ignazio’s employee. She was only there to make sure he and his partner stuck to their diets until he was healed and they were back to arena fighting form.
Yet as he squared off against his partner again, he couldn’t shake the hot vibration that had taken up residence in his chest. The need to chase after her, make love to her. Mark her.
It isn’t her. I’m not ready for it to be her. Not until I’m healed.
With a roar, he threw himself at Ignazio, ignoring the sharp twinge in his hip as his injury protested. Somehow his partner seemed equally energized, yet the same issue that had plagued them all month hadn’t disappeared. As they tangled on the mat again, Mondaro yelled for them to halt.
“Still you flail like lost children. You must be of one mind, united in purpose. When your dragons are in sync, the fight is like a dance. You have
come far this past month, both of you, but you still have far to go.”
Ignazio growled in frustration that mirrored Bryer’s own. They were painfully off their game and it went deeper than just his physical limitations. His healing still progressed, but it was slower than he’d like it to be. His dragon was languishing without the energy of the championship competition to drive it to win.
All he had was Ignazio’s ridiculous bet, which had sounded like a worthy challenge at first, but had become a thorn in his side ever since. Even if he were lucky enough to stumble across his mate at one of the countless high-society parties they’d been invited to, how the hell was he supposed to satisfy her when he couldn’t get it up? Yet somehow, he was suddenly no longer sure she was out there anymore.
“I’ve a mind to skip dinner and go out,” Ignazio said under his breath. “You feel like clearing out tonight?”
Bryer heard the hopeful tone in his friend’s voice and immediately bristled. “Not even one fucking day and you’re itching to get out and pick up groupies again? Man, we’ve got two months to get back in sync. You’re not allowed to bail on this. We stay home, we eat whatever the fuck the doctor orders, and we train.”
Ignazio’s jaw twitched with tension. “So, what about the bet? Our pre-season party is still on, and everyone’s expecting results by then. The entire world wants to see who will win this year, yet you don’t want to even step foot out the door.”
“Fuck you, I agreed to go to the parties. If you want, I’ll even call the matchmaker. Would that make you happy?”
An ear-piercing whistle shot through the air, making both of them turn.
Mondaro was scowling at them both. “You two bicker like old dragons. Partners in sync know how to work out their differences—compromise. You stay home, eat what the lady cooks. Get a good night’s sleep, because training starts at dawn tomorrow and you’d both better be on your game for a change. That’s an order! Now go. I have no more patience for nonsense today.”
Chastened, both Bryer and his partner nodded and headed toward the exit. On the way up the steps around the side of the house, Ignazio said, “It wasn’t about me, you know.”
Bryer looked at him, sensing the subdued sincerity in his tone. “What isn’t about you?”
“Going out … I mean, yeah, I could do with a good lay, that goes without saying … But we haven’t been in on it together since before the championship. We’re in sync when we share a female. I just hoped if we tried, it might help. What if our lack of harmony is what’s keeping you from healing faster?”
Bryer gritted his teeth to hold back his anger. “You are something else, you know that? Have you even looked in the mirror lately? I’m not the only part of this team who needs to get his shit together.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Ignazio said, stopping and staring at him.
“You got me to move in here because we’re better off if we live together and train together, I get that. But you don’t have the excuse of a damn injury to explain why you’re not in sync with your animal. You couldn’t even manifest your wings without going full-shift, could you? A champion in sync with his animal can partially shift at-will, any part of his body. Like this …”
He raised his hand and a sharp midnight-blue talon extended from the tip of his index finger.
Ignazio blanched and turned away. He stared off over the lake, blinking at the sunset.
Bryer dropped his hand, the talon disappearing a second later. The effort exhausted him more than it should have, but it served to make his point.
Ignazio swallowed several times before looking Bryer in the eyes again. “Yeah, all right? I’m fucking messed up inside. Seeing you nearly killed destroyed me. I can’t sleep wondering if there’s something else I should be doing to help you.”
The rough edge to his voice betrayed the pain that must be buried deep inside him. Bryer’s ire deflated and he let out a long sigh.
“You don’t need to worry about me, all right? I’m doing everything I can to get back to where I need to be, but it would sure fucking help if you were already there and not somewhere behind me. You kicking my ass all my life has always been the one thing that gave me momentum.”
Ignazio’s expression cleared and his red eyes flashed with amusement. “So you admit that I’ve always kicked your ass?”
“Fuck you, man, you know what I meant. I’ve kicked your ass plenty, and you know it.”
“Nah, that isn’t what you said. I distinctly heard you say I kicked your ass all your life.”
“Not a chance! In fact, I’ll kick your ass again tonight. First man to the supper table wins.”
He barely got the last syllable out when Ignazio gave him a wicked grin and took off up the steps, taking them two at a time. Bryer’s dragon perked up at the flood of competitive energy, and he let it surge to the surface, propelling him on with a roar of enthusiasm.
Chapter Eight
The next twenty minutes highlighted to Ignazio the extent to which he and his dragon were out of sync. As he ran, he caught sight of his partner’s shadow flying up to the upper balcony of his wing of the house. Bryer was only half-shifted—just his wings manifested from his shoulder blades.
Ignazio could’ve flown, but not by only manifesting his dragon’s wings—he’d have had to completely shift, which would have slowed him down. So he ran, making it back to his own room in record time. He’d be damned if he let Bryer win after that taunt. The man needed to be re-taught which one of them was the better athlete, and there was no way in hell Ignazio would lose the race when she was at the end of it.
He hopped into his huge shower, the sensors immediately registering his presence and kicking the spray of water on at the exact right temperature. All he had to do was turn in a circle, lift his arms, and then scrub his crotch when it was sufficiently soaped up.
The image of the new chef’s full curves popped into his head, and his cock grew instantly hard.
“Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at his body’s betrayal. “Not now. Not fucking now.”
It should be food he wanted most right now, and his stomach was already growling after the brutal day of non-stop training. Their lunches had been some re-heated, pre-prepared things Nessa had left in the freezer for them. She’d certainly spoiled them with her fresh-from-the-garden cooking, and he was curious how her replacement would do.
As he dried off and began to dress, he couldn’t help wondering how Nessa’s replacement would feel or smell, or fucking taste. Now that the seed was in his head, he couldn’t fucking get it out. One look at her—only that split-second glance—was enough for him to know. But knowing didn’t help a bit.
She was his mate, there was no denying it, but the knowledge was the worst fucking inconvenience he could have imagined.
Bryer might be right about him needing to get his head on straight again, but Ignazio needed to make sure Bryer found his own mate first. He never intentionally threw a bet against his friend, but when his friend’s full recovery was on the line, he was willing to make that sacrifice.
Which was why he fucking needed his cock to behave right now so he could get into his goddamn pants. He’d take all the little victories he could get in exchange for letting go of that one big one. His own mate would just have to wait a little while longer.
At least there was no way Bryer could fly back down to dinner, not unless he planned to show up half-dressed. Ignazio sprinted across the landing outside his room and down the staircase, keeping awareness on his periphery and the staircase that led down from the opposite wing. The open dining room was at the center of the house, adjacent to the foyer, and he had a few steps of advantage on his side.
But as he closed in, the delicious aromas drifting in from the kitchen obliterated everything else. His mouth watered, his hungry stomach pulling him toward the source like he was caught in a tractor beam. He’d comp
letely forgotten about the race when he crossed through the wide archway into the dining room.
Then she was there, and he was struck dumb.
“Hi!” she said, looking up from lighting a candle. She was dressed in a plain white shirt and black skirt. Both fit snugly and did nothing to conceal her voluptuous curves. Her blonde hair was pinned up in a twist with wispy tendrils framing her pink cheeks.
“Smells delicious,” he said, realizing he hadn’t responded to her greeting. He took another step toward the table. “I’m Ignazio. You must be Nessa’s replacement … Pomona, is it?”
“The one and only,” she said with a smile. “And I take it you’re Bryer?”
Ignazio blinked at her in confusion until he realized she wasn’t looking at him, but past him. Adrenaline flooded through him as he came to his senses.
“Fuck.”
He lurched forward, hurriedly grabbing at a chair just as Bryer’s swift steps sounded behind him. His ass hit the cushion just a split-second before Bryer rounded the table and made it to his own chair.
“Hah! You lose, fucker!” He gave his friend a shit-eating grin.
“Excuse me?” Bryer said, affecting an air of bewilderment as he pulled out his chair and unhurriedly sat. To Pomona, Bryer said, “You’ll have to forgive Ignazio. He’s a little enthusiastic when it comes to his meals.” And then the ass winked at him.
Pomona was standing back, looking a little shell-shocked at their sudden appearance. She blinked, then laughed. “I see. Well, if you’ll just allow me to finish lighting the candles, I’ll have dinner served tout de suite.”
She proceeded to bend over in front of him, putting flame to wick. The collar of her plain white blouse spread open with the weight of her breasts, the creamy white flesh of both gorgeous globes clearly visible. Ignazio’s dragon coiled and tensed just as his cock roused again at the sight. He grabbed his napkin and draped it over his lap.
