Burn, Baby, Burn

by Catherine Vale

  Catherine Vale

  Burn, Baby, Burn

  A BBW Dragon Paranormal Shifter Romance

  Copyright © 2015, Catherine Vale

  Published by Wild Hearts Press

  Website: http://www.CatherineVale.com

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, brands, incidents, and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  About The Author

  Other Books By Catherine Vale

  Chapter One

  Flying over New York City was the worst decision Adalyn Shaw has ever made in her life.

  It hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea when she’d first had the thought. Soaring through the open air, the darkness of the night sky and the puffy cumulous clouds hiding her enormous wingspan and long, sinuous form, she’d felt free, with the night wind rippling through the membranes of her wings and across her scales, and her spiked tail whipping, swirling through the tufts of cloud. She’d just come from a very nice visit with a friend in Boston, and was now headed back to the Greyfeather clan in Richmond, Virginia – her home.

  She’d been approaching New Jersey when the twinkling lights of New York City had caught her eye. The multitude of skyscrapers, the Statue of Liberty, the shimmering, glittering water of the Long Island Sound in the distance had all tugged at something within her, and she’d decided to bank left. She didn’t have time to visit the city, not really – her clan was expecting her back by nightfall – but she could, at the very least, fly over it, right?

  At first she’d decided to stick to the clouds, because even though most of the supernatural races had come out to the public, humans still couldn’t handle dragon sightings. But the lights drew her in closer, particularly the Empire State Building, which was currently shimmering blue and green.

  Surely it won’t be a big deal, she thought to herself as she drew closer. It’s so foggy out that I’ll be nothing but a big, undefined shape to anyone looking up. And most humans convince themselves that they’re hallucinating when they see things they can’t explain anyway.

  And that’s when it hit her.

  She wasn’t sure what has happened. One second she was soaring through the air, and the next she was plummeting, the weight of her massive body dragging her down, down, down, until she was spiraling toward earth. Panic took hold of her as she realized her magic had disappeared – though dragons were ergonomically built, they needed a boost of magic in order to remain airborne, and now that it was gone she was plummeting faster than a fiery meteor to the ground.

  Adalyn frantically began flapping her wings to try and slow her fall – which worked for a little bit, and she began descending at the pace of a parachute, rather than a speeding bullet. But that didn’t last too long; a couple hundred feet from the ground she abruptly lost her dragon shape, shifting into a human, and a scream ripped from her throat as she plummeted the rest of the way down.

  Straight into a garbage dumpster.

  Spluttering and gagging, she ripped a rotting banana peel from her hair and crawled her way up the side of the dumpster. Thankfully the majority of it was filled with closed garbage bags that had cushioned her fall, so she didn’t get much in the way of actual trash on her. But still, it reeked! Trying her best not to breathe, she hoisted herself over the edge of the garbage can and dropped down into an alleyway, light on her feet, like a cat.

  And then promptly staggered several steps sideways.

  Breathing hard, she braced a hand on the brick alley wall to steady herself, then groaned as she pressed her forehead against the harsh surface. What the fuck was going on? She’d never failed like this in the middle of a flight, not since she was a little dragon learning how to fly. Which was over a hundred years ago, she added to herself crossly, shame and embarrassment running through her. If any of her clan mates had seen this, she’d be a laughingstock amongst them.

  Her clan mates. Right. They could probably help her, or at least the Alpha could. Fishing her cell phone out of her leather jacket pocket, she flipped it open so that she could dial Raymus’s number.

  And then groaned out loud.

  The front of the screen was cracked, and not responsive at all. When she turned the phone around to see if she could jimmy the battery, she saw that it was totally shattered beyond repair. She wasn’t going to be able to contact Raymus, or anyone at all, without the phone.

  What about a payphone?

  Right! That’s a great idea, she thought to herself, patting her pockets of her jeans until she came up with her wallet. She had cash, credit cards, and even a few coins, so she should be able to swing a phone call. Then she could get someone to help her figure out what the hell was going on, or maybe pick her up and take her home.

  As some of the anxiety began to clear away from her brain, she became aware of a thumping vibration beneath her forehead, which was still pressed against the wall. Focusing on it, the sound became a beat – music. She was outside a bar, or a club of some kind. They probably have phones, she thought excitedly.

  Pushing herself off the wall, she took a few moments to make sure there wasn’t anything in her hair, and then walked outside the alleyway and onto the sidewalk. To her right was the entrance to a club – The Night Bar, she read from the placard at the top, and snorted. Very original. But it didn’t really matter what the name of the place was, she thought to herself. All that really mattered was that she get inside, and make the phone call.

  So she took a deep breath, grabbed the brass doorknob, and stepped inside.

  * * *

  Christian Malone took another pull from his Guinness and tried to pretend that he was interested in the football game that was playing on the screen directly over his head. He’d been sitting at the bar for the last hour, guzzling beer and watching football, because someone had suggested that maybe, since he was stuck in his human form until he got his act together, that he may as well go try doing some human activity to entertain himself. And from what he understood, single human guys liked to go to the bar, drink beer, and watch the latest football.

  The problem was, Christian didn’t like football. The only sport he really enjoyed watching was martial arts, and that was only because there was
actual fighting going on. This weird kind of dominance play involving padding and balls and helmets and make up – all of it was just a complicated show to him, and he couldn’t be bothered to learn the rules. Especially when he had a serious buzz going from the Guinness.

  The other problem, of course, was that all of the other guys here watching football, with an exception of a few older men, sat together in packs of three or more, jeering at the screen and talking amongst themselves, guessing at which way the play was going to go, and cheering when their team made the right score. Christian, on the other hand, was alone at his corner of the bar – heck, so alone that the seat next to him was freaking empty, and the rest of the place was packed.

  Guess nobody wanted to sit next to a loser like him.

  Really, the only thing he’d actually hoped to get out of a night like this was possibly a piece of ass, preferably in a red hot dress, to take home with him. He didn’t mind bedding human women – they were a little softer in bed than the dragon females he preferred, but some of them could be pretty feisty, especially in this day and age. But most of the ones who’d come here tonight were with males of their own, and the ones who didn’t were most definitely not his type.

  Note to self – do NOT go to a sports bar if you want to pick up chicks.

  He bit back a groan as the group next to him erupted in cheers, and rubbed the back of his neck. The sound of the guys constantly breaking out into boos and cheers was nearly as bad as the thumping bass of a nightclub – the keyword being nearly. He could hardly stand to go to those places – the strobe lights and the deafening music were like hell on his heightened dragon shifter senses.

  Maybe you should take up ballroom or salsa dancing, he thought to himself.

  The very idea gave him a headache, and he really did groan this time. God, this night was such a waste of time. He’d so much rather be soaring amongst the clouds, feeling the wind beneath his wings, and the moonlight on his scales as a dragon should. But instead he was stuck here, trying to pretend to be something he was not.

  And all because of one stupid, drunken night.

  “You rooting for the Giants?” the bartender asked sympathetically, mistakenly attributing the losing team’s cause for Christian’s distress. He took Christian’s empty bottle and replaced it with another – after six bottles he’d stopped asking if Christian wanted more, which Christian appreciated as it saved him from unnecessary speech.

  “Just having a bad night in general,” he said, then took the bottle and cracked it open, preparing to down the whole thing in one go.

  He heard the door open behind him, and froze as his senses tingled. Dragon shifter, they told him, and he set the bottle down and turned slowly in his seat. Several other men did so as well, but not because the woman who walked into the bar was a shifter – no, only he could tell that since the rest of them were human.

  No, they were all staring because this woman was hot. Smoking hot.

  Hunger lit a fire inside his belly as his piercing green eyes traveled up and down her curvy form. She was a bit on the thick side, thicker than most female dragons, but she wore her shape well in black denim jeans and a red tank top that displayed her cleavage and clung to her wide hips – hips that were meant for a man to wrap his fingers around and pull her close so that he could taste those wickedly lush lips of hers. A wealth of curly red hair cascaded around a heart-shaped face with large, thickly lashed blue eyes, and there were a few faint freckles splashed across her otherwise flawless pale skin that he found a little endearing.

  Christian couldn’t take his eyes off her as she approached, but as she drew closer he became less focused on her form and more on the fact that her expression looked like a thundercloud about to burst. Whatever was going on with this woman, she was pissed, and female dragon shifters had quite a temper. A more cowardly man might have scooted away, retreated to one of the booths in the corner as she headed straight for the empty stool next to him.

  But Christian wasn’t a coward, and he wanted front row seats for this show, whatever it was going to be. And if he played his cards right, maybe he would even get to participate.

  “Shot of whiskey, please,” the woman said in a smoky voice, as she hoisted herself up onto the barstool. She flicked her long, curly hair over one shoulder, sending it rippling down the back of the black leather jacket she wore.

  The bartender nodded, then quickly served up her drink. She set some bills down on the counter, and then reached for his hand as he started to draw away. “Is there any chance that I could use your phone? My cellphone is busted and I really need to make a call.”

  “Sure thing.” The bartender pulled up a landline phone from behind the counter and set it on the bar. Christian picked up his beer and took another sip so that she wouldn’t suspect that he was paying any attention to her, and watched as she picked up the receiver, her hands hovering over the dial. Ears trained on the woman, he was fully planning on spending the next few minutes enjoying listening to her rip someone a new one, or perhaps even crying to someone on the phone about something they couldn’t help her with, so that he could swoop in and be the proverbial night in shining armor and rescue her. And of course by ‘rescue’ he meant, ‘console her and take her to bed.’ After all, with his unique ability to shield the fact that he was a shifter from other shifters, she would have no idea that he wasn’t human and could hear every word she said on the phone.

  But instead of punching in a number and giving him ammunition for her to seduce him with, she sighed and dropped the phone back into its cradle.

  He waited several seconds for her to pick it back up again, thinking that maybe she’d just changed her mind about who she was calling, but instead she simply deposited the phone back behind the counter and picked up her glass again. He arched a brow as she tilted back her glass of whiskey, and downed the whole thing in one shot.

  “Decided against that phone call, have you?”

  She set the glass down and glanced over at him in confusion. “Huh?”

  “Your phone call.” He gestured to the phone that was now behind the counter again, deciding to be direct. “I couldn’t help but notice that you asked to use the phone, but didn’t make any actual phone call. Is that one of those secret agent moves, where you pick up the phone and someone else is on the other line, and you send some kind of strange mental message through the receiver and the guy on the other end spits it out into a line of code that then reveals itself as the formula for what the Universe is made out of?”

  She snorted with laughter, some of the tension melting from her face. “Dude, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but whatever you’re on, I want some of it.”

  “Just alcohol, unfortunately,” he said, grinning a little. Damn, but he was more than a little buzzed now. He was flat out drunk. “But there is plenty of it around here, so I should have no problem getting you some.”

  He ordered her another whiskey from the bartender, then sat up from his slouch and tried to look a little more like a relaxed human being. After all, he wasn’t bad looking in human form – he has symmetrical features, wavy dark brown hair and green eyes that he’d used to charm the pants off a girl on more than one occasion. Surely he could put them to good use this time, too.

  “So what’s your name?” he asked. “Can’t say that I’ve seen you around in here before.” Not that he would have any basis for that claim since this was the first time she’d ever been in this bar. But her accent told him that she was from the south, possibly North Carolina or Virginia, and there was not a whiff of New York City on the girl. But he didn’t want to scare her by giving away all his insights.

  “Adalyn. And you?”

  “Nice to meet you, Adalyn,” he said, picking up his beer to take another pull from it. “I’m Christian.”

  “Hmm.” She looked him up and down, and damn if he didn’t see a hint of interest in her eyes. “Well, I have to say you might just be the best thing I’ve seen all night.”
>
  “Careful now,” he said, grinning. “You might just inflate my ego with those sweet words.”

  She chuckled. “I don’t think you have any trouble with that on your own.”

  “Ouch.” He placed a hand over his heart, as if wounded, then decided to come back to the point at hand. “Mind telling me what’s got you so down?”

  She sighed a little. “I’m lost,” she said, glancing down at her half-empty glass of whiskey on the table. “Well, stranded, really. Was on my way home when my car broke down, and it’s basically beyond repair.”

  “Damn.” He winced, feeling real sympathy for her plight. “That really sucks. Where’s home?”

  “Virginia.” She grumbled a little at that. “A long ways from here.”

  “Huh.” Guilt cut through the fog of intoxication clouding his brain as he realized what must have happened to her. She probably was flying home when she passed over the city, and then she plummeted to the ground because of the spell that the Dragon Alliance had cast over the city limits to prevent all dragon flyovers.

  The spell that was cast because of him.

  Deciding that telling her that he was the reason for her being grounded wasn’t going to endear her to him, he decided to skip over that part. She would be found soon enough, he thought to himself, pushing aside the guilt and justifying his lie by omission. He didn’t need to be her savior in that department. He wasn’t looking for that level of complication, that was for damn sure. He really just wanted a night of fun.

  “Well,” he said, pretending to think for a moment about how he could help her. “I suppose you could crash at my place for the night until you figure out what to do with yourself. I’ve got a futon, and some leftover Chinese in my fShaw.”

  She arched a brow, her lips curving into what was probably the sexiest smile he’d ever seen. “I think we can do a little better than leftover Chinese, don’t you think?”