by Isa Hunt
Copyright © 2018 by Isa Hunt - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Awakening Dragon
A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance
By: Isa Hunt
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1 – KELLY
CHAPTER 2 – KELLY
CHAPTER 3 – KELLY
CHAPTER 4 – KELLY
CHAPTER 5 – BENOIT
CHAPTER 6 – KELLY
CHAPTER 7 – KELLY
CHAPTER 8 – BENOIT
CHAPTER 9 – KELLY
CHAPTER 10 – PAUL
CHAPTER 11 – KELLY
CHAPTER 12 – KELLY
CHAPTER 13 – KELLY
CHAPTER 14 – PAUL
CHAPTER 15 – KELLY
CHAPTER 16 – REX
CHAPTER 17 – BENOIT
CHAPTER 18 – KELLY
CHAPTER 19 – REX
CHAPTER 20 – PAUL
CHAPTER 21 – KELLY
CHAPTER 22 – KELLY
Specially Selected Bonus Content
My Shifting Billionaire Boss
The Billionaire Lion's Prey
Claimed by the Dragon Shifter
Guarded by the Hockey Beasts
The Shifting Boss's Baby
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CHAPTER 1 – KELLY
There were mountains; there always were in these dreams. Impossibly tall mountains, with jagged peaks like the teeth of some gigantic, primeval carnivorous reptile, biting at the blackened sky. There were storm clouds, black and thick and heavy, crowding the sky and spitting and hissing at each other with forked tongues of lightning.
But more than this, there was fire – fire roaring and howling like a hurricane wind, swallowing up the jagged mountain peaks and spires, burning away the black clouds, burning everything, burning the whole world to an ashy crisp, the massive flames blasting their heat out into space – and the fire was coming from me.
I woke with a jolt, sitting bolt upright and gasping with shock. It had been the same dream again, the one that had been with me longer than any memory. I'd had this recurring dream of fire and mountains and storm clouds since, well, since I could remember.
For all twenty-three years of my life, this recurring dream had come to me, time and time again, the same every time, yet I was no closer to making any sense out of it now than I had been last year, five years ago, ten years ago, or any other time.
I sighed and shook my head and glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging at a skew angle off the grimy wall, with its faded, peeling wallpaper and chunks of missing plaster. Staring back at me was the reflection of a slim girl with pale alabaster skin, dark chocolate hair that tumbled and splashed around my shoulders in waves, and large hazel eyes that were sometimes so bright that they seemed to glow.
On account of the sweltering Florida summer heat (the AC unit in my little apartment had been broken for months now, and my cheapskate landlord refused to fix it), I was dressed only in a pair of red panties and a baggy, faded Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt that had belonged to my older brother Jason, whom I had last seen five years ago when he had walked out of the house one day with a strange smile on his face, never to return. We hadn't heard a word from him since then, but something, a hard-coded instinct or a sixth sense or something like that told me that he was still alive, somewhere . . .
My hair was a little damp and clumped with sweat, and beads of perspiration glistened on my skin. It wasn't only on account of the busted AC; whenever I had this strange dream of mountains and fire I would wake up feeling scorching hot, as if I had been sitting in a hot tub, boiling myself for hours. It was a strange heat through and seemed to be particularly intense in my throat and lungs, but it never caused me any pain.
I groaned and rolled off of my bed, landing gracefully on the floor, with its random stains and cracked tiles (more things my landlord refused to fix), and checked my phone. No messages or calls. It was four in the afternoon, so I'd had a good seven hours of sleep, at least. Yeah, when most people were preparing to end their working days, I was just waking up. One of the perks – or perhaps disadvantages, depending on how you looked at it – of working at a bar that only started getting busy around midnight, and usually stayed open until well after dawn: The Full Moon.
I yawned, stretched, stripped down and stumbled over to the shower. The tepid water did a half-assed job of waking me up; a piping hot mug of instant coffee took care of the rest. It tasted gross but it was all I could afford, and it packed enough of a kick to get me going.
It was a Friday, so I knew that it was gonna be a long, busy night at the bar; all the freaks would be out tonight, especially since it was going to be a full moon. I always had a chuckle at that; full moon at The Full Moon. That always seemed to bring the real crazies out of the woodwork, and in this neck of the woods there seemed to be a ton of 'em.
Thinking about this, combined with the lingering discomfort that always remained with me after the fire and mountains dream, made me feel distinctly uneasy. I did my best to shake off this feeling, but it seemed to stick, like persistent bubblegum under one's shoe.
After finishing the coffee I had a quick bowl of cereal while scrolling absentmindedly through Facebook and Instagram, and then got dressed. Bar protocol for us bartenders dictated that we dress in all black at all times – the owner didn't care what we wore, as long as it was black and relatively sexy. I slid into some tight black jeans, hi-heeled black leather ankle boots and a sexy strappy top, low-cut enough to reveal a bit of cleavage without being too slutty.
I made sure I had shoved everything I needed into my bag and then took off. As I was trotting down the stairs (yes, the elevator in this building was broken too) I ran into old Mr. Jenkins, a kind, a grandfatherly retiree who lived down the hall from me. He paused to chat to me and leaned on his walking stick.
“Hey hey, Kelly,” he said to me, smiling warmly and dabbing at his sweaty forehead with a damp handkerchief. “Hot day huh? How are ya?”
“I'm good Mr. Jenkins,” I said, returning his smile with a sweet one of my own.
He frowned, peering through his thick coke bottle glasses at me.
“You look a little shaken, like you seen a ghost or something,” he remarked.
“It's just that weird recurring dream I always have, about mountains and fire,” I said.
He chuckled.
“Ain't no mountains for hundreds a' miles!” he remarked with a chuckle. “Not even hills around here. Just swamps and gators, swamps and gators. You know, I saw real mountains though. I hiked in the Rockies when I-”
I cut him off – kindly, of course – because I didn't have time to listen to one of his stories at the moment.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Jenkins,” I said, keeping my tone as sweet as possible, “I'd love to hear about it, but I'm gonna be late for work if I don't run.”
He nodded.
“I understand. Oh!”
His face lit up as he seemed to recall something important.
“Yes?” I prompted.
“That strange guy with the foreign accent was around here last night asking about you again. Then later I did see him messin' around with yo
ur apartment door like he was tryin' to break in or somethin'. I called crazy Fred from next door, who came runnin' with one of his many guns, and the guy left pretty quick. I uh, I just thought you should know. Be careful now Kelly, ya hear?”
“I will Mr. Jenkins, don't worry,” I said as I took off at a run down the stairs.
The walk to The Full Moon usually took me around half an hour, depending on how quickly I moved. I had told Mr. Jenkins I was in a hurry, but I actually wasn't. I had a lot on my mind, and just needed some time to think some things through.
The strange recurring dream of mountains and fire had been coming to me more and more often in recent days, and I really needed to find out just what it all meant. How I was going to do this, though, I wasn't really sure. I figured I could ask Rhonda – one of my best friends since senior high and my co-worker at The Full Moon – as she had an interest in tarot cards, reading palms, interpreting dreams and all that kinda stuff.
As for me, I thought all of that was a bunch of crap. The supernatural? Whatever. Anyone who believed in that kinda garbage needed their head examined, that's what I thought about that topic, but of course, I wasn't going to say anything like that to Rhonda. She was a really sweet girl and a good friend, and I didn't want to insult her or anything. And these dreams were getting more and more intense. Part of me was almost starting to have trouble believing that they were dreams . . . They felt too real for that. I don't know. It was all very confusing, and more than a little worrying. I really had to talk to someone about them, and I couldn't afford a shrink . . . So Rhonda would have to do.
By the time I got to The Full Moon dusk had fallen, and the sky above was fading to a rich blue, dotted with sparkling stars like tiny jewels. It was a beautiful evening, and just above the low horizon, the full moon floated in the sky, huge and yellow.
Across the street from The Full Moon bar was a patch of forest, and the bottom of the full moon seemed to be brushing the tops of the trees. I glanced down into the shadows between the trees – and almost jumped out of my shoes with fright, because there, standing just across the street, not thirty yards from me, its yellow eyes glowing almost preternaturally in the darkness, was an enormous gray wolf.
“Oh my God,” I murmured, frozen to the spot.
And that was when the wolf snarled, bared its fangs . . . and charged.
CHAPTER 2 – KELLY
For a second I simply froze. Well, maybe it was a second. It felt like a lifetime, an eon of sheer, terrifying paralysis. This huge wolf was storming across the road, its eyes glowing, its jaws gaping, thundering right for me, and all I could do was . . . nothing.
Then, from somewhere deep inside me, some sort of primal instinct kicked in.
Run. Run. RUN!
I spun on my heels and bolted, making a beeline for The Full Moon's side door, praying that it was open. The wolf saw me heading that way and veered to the left, looking to cut me off before I got to the door. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I felt fresh speed boosting through my muscles as I sprinted as fast as I could toward the door, with the wolf steaming in at speed.
I'm not gonna make it, I'm not gonna make it . . . No, no, no!
The wolf was almost upon me. I could almost feel its hot breath on the back of my legs. Any second now, and it would bring me down. But the door, I was almost there, almost, just a few more steps . . .
Please be open, please be open, please be open!
I dived into the door – and it burst open. I skidded to a halt, breathing hard, but didn't stop there – I launched my body against the door, closing it again, and felt a heavy impact slam into it just on the other side. The force of the impact almost threw me off my feet. I shrieked with fright but somehow managed to keep my wits about me. Pressing all of my bodyweight against the door to keep it closed, I reached up with a wildly-trembling hand and slammed the deadbolt shut, locking the door.
There was one more powerful thump against the door, and I screamed again when the creature launched itself into the door, but the deadbolt held and the door stayed shut. I was safe.
I stumbled back and collapsed onto the floor as abject fear flooded through me, washing away the last of the adrenaline and turning my limbs to jelly.
“What the heck is going on here?” demanded a gruff, familiar voice.
Standing over me was a short, stocky man in his late forties, dressed in tight black jeans and a black dress shirt that was too tight for his rotund torso: the manager of The Full Moon, Abe Graham. His small blue eyes, set in deep sockets in an almost perfectly round, totally bald head, were wide with surprise.
“Kelly! Why are you on the floor? What was that scream?”
“Abe, there's a . . . there's a wild wolf out there! It, it chased me in here!”
“What? A wolf? Are you sure it wasn't just a, a uh, a big dog or something? There aren't any wild wolves here! There haven't been for hundreds of years, at least.”
“Abe, I promise you, what I just saw was a wolf. Now, you can keep asking me these questions or you can go look out through the side window there and see it for yourself! It almost got in here. It must be right there still.”
He hurried over to the window, parted the thick black drapes and peered out.
“I don't see no wolf, Kelly,” he said uncertainly. “There's nothing out there at all, actually.”
“I promise you, Abe, it was there – it almost got me!”
He flipped the floodlight switch and lit up the street and the parking lot with bright light. I got up, dusted myself off and sidled up next to him to peer out of the window. I couldn't believe it. The wolf was gone as if it had disappeared into thin air.
Abe turned slowly to me, folded his arms across his chest and stared at me with one eyebrow skeptically raised.
“Have you been drinking, Kelly? Smoking pot? Are you on some sorta medication or something?”
I shook my head.
“No. I . . . I promise you, Abe, it was out there. I just got chased by a wolf, I promise I did.”
I felt like I was going crazy. Had I just imagined the whole thing?
“Hmm . . . Well, right now there ain't no wolf there,” he grumbled. “So go on, get your pretty little ass behind the bar and start getting things set up. We're gonna have a busy night tonight, and I don't wanna see nobody slackin' off, ya hear?”
“Alright, Abe,” I said, still feeling shaken up by what had just happened. “I'll get to work.”
I wandered through the storage area in a daze and somehow made my way to the bar. Rhonda was already there, looking pretty with her long blond hair tied up above her head, and dressed in a sexy black cocktail dress that showed off her long, curvy legs. She beamed out her usual cheerful smile at me, but it faded quickly when she saw the look on my face.
“Oh my God, Kelly,” she gasped. “What happened to you? Your face is as white as a sheet!”
“I . . . I just got chased by a wolf,” I muttered. “At least I think that's what it was.”
“A wolf? Seriously? Where?”
“Like, right outside the bar. It was in the woods across the street, and as soon as it saw me it ran straight at me. I only just made it to the door before it got me. Now, I know you're gonna say I'm crazy like Abe just did, but—”
“No, no,” she said. “I believe you. It's just, you know, not exactly something that happens every day around here. It wasn't what I was expecting you to say.”
I shrugged.
“Well, it's not exactly something I was expecting to happen either.”
“Gee. Maybe it like, escaped from the zoo or something. I mean, there are plenty of alligators around here, but no wolves, not that I've heard of or anything. Is it still out there?”
“It doesn't look like it. Abe took a look and said that there's nothing there. He thinks I'm drunk or high or something.”
She grinned suddenly.
“And . . . are you?”
I laughed, thankful for a moment of levity after what had f
rankly been a terrifying experience.
“No!” I said, punching her playfully on her shoulder. “Come on, you know I'm at least a little more responsible than that. Not much more, mind you, but a little, right?”
We both laughed.
“Well, look,” she said, “you're gonna be in here for the next couple of hours. It's gonna be a long night I think, and by the time we eventually get out of this place that wolf will be long gone. It'll soon get bored and go find someone else to chase.”
“I hope so,” I murmured, suddenly remembering how supernaturally bright the creature's glowing eyes had seemed to be. “I really hope so . . . ”
We got to cleaning things up and getting all the glasses and bottles and everything ready, chatting idly while we worked. I tried to think about other things, but the wolf's eyes and its red, gaping jaw full of razor-sharp teeth kept popping into my head. Eventually, though, I managed to force them out of my mind, at least temporarily.
Then the memory of my vivid dream about mountains and fire popped into my head.
“Rhonda,” I said putting down the glass I was drying off, “you know a little about dream interpreting, don't you?”
She nodded as she dipped another glass into the sink and began washing it.
“A little, yeah. Why, have you been having some weird ones?”
“Yeah. Well, there's this recurring dream, actually. I've been having this same dream since I was a little kid. It's like I'm flying, and there are these huge mountains – like seriously majestic mountains – and then there's fire . . . And I mean lots of fire. And it's like it's coming from me . . . And it's burning everything down.”
She nodded slowly, digesting all of this information.
“And you say you keep having this dream?” she asked.
“Yeah. Just woke up from it before coming here, actually.”
“It sounds like there's a part of your personality that you either don't know exists, or that you don't acknowledge the existence of. Something extraordinary, something powerful – yet dangerous, too. Fire is associated with both power and danger in dreams. And the mountains . . . Well, I'm not so sure about that part, but could it be linked to some sort of memory of them?”
