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Claimed by Her Dragons
By
Kate Richards
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Claimed by Her Dragons
Walter the Wizard/dragon shifter hasn’t poked his head outside his cave in weeks. With his current project going every which way but right, his client breathing down his neck, and the neighbors complaining about the odors, you’d think you could skip your mumble mumble year reunion—especially when you don’t have a lady in your life at the moment. And you’ve bragged otherwise. But you’d think wrong.
Conflagration Brown’s very nervous about leaving his hoard to attend an event in a nearby city. The wizard who moved into the cave next door is not only absolutely the noisiest neighbor anyone could ever be cursed with, but the guy he competed against in everything in high school. And nearly had a thing with. Once he learns Walter is not only attending but bringing a stunning date, he has to top him. What better reason for two dragons…whose rivalry masked an attraction neither was ready to acknowledge way back when…to call Gerri Wilder at the Paranormal Dating Agency for help.
Gina Toriello, plus-sized model, actress, and jaguar shifter might have been a little less than specific in her conversation with Gerri Wilder, but she honestly doesn’t know what she wants in a date. And since ordinary men haven’t been much to write home about, she wants something different. Maybe she shouldn’t have written off shifters as mates. Or maybe she just needed two.
If all goes well, they’re going to set the reunion on fire. Or if all goes wrong.
Claimed by her Dragons is an MMF Dating Agency Shifter Romance featuring a curvy woman and two hot dragons ready to claim their third.
Prologue
“Being a plus-sized model offers both challenges and benefits.” Gina Toriello repeated the words she used so often she’d memorized them. “But,” she added a practiced smile, “I like to think I use what nature gave me to remind other girls who have more curves than lines”—pause for laughter from the studio audience—“that we have our own special kind of beauty.”
The host of Early Morning L.A., a redhead of a certain age, with more lines than curves, rose, leading the audience in applause. “Well said, Gina. And thank you for getting up so early to spend time with us today.” She stepped toward the front of the stage, her skinny rump in the pencil skirt sending a clear message she hadn’t had a full meal in years. Botox injections, indicated by the fact parts of her face never moved, kept her hollow cheeks from being a mass of wrinkles. “After this message, our guest will help us to make one of her favorite snacks. Homemade potato chips with onion dip. Yum.”
Gina bit the inside of her lip as the production assistant hustled her over to a side stage to stand behind a portable fryer. A basket of russet potatoes and a container of sour cream along with a peeled onion and a few spices said it all. Fat girls eat junk food. Fact was, she rarely ate a potato chip or any dip, except maybe hummus. Despite what people thought, her form was not the result of stuffing her face with empty calories. She did enjoy good food, but she also worked out on a regular basis, and her definition of “good food” did not include items guaranteed to ruin her complexion.
As the camera focused on her, she made a mental note never to darken the door of Early Morning L.A. again and added Corinne Angley, her underfed host, to her enemies list. However, she was a professional. So, while smiling broadly and making friendly conversation with the hungry woman who practically drooled over each crispy potato slice, she chanted calming mantras in her mind and counted down the seconds until she could head for the gym and constructively work off her angst in a kickboxing session. Or maybe head for the stables and take her sorrel mare, Miss Honey, for a gallop. People claimed horses were afraid of predator-type shifters, but since she’d been riding before anyone knew of her cat, she’d never seemed to have a problem.
“So, tell me, Gina,” Corinne asked, her eyes focused on the trio of golden chips cooling on a paper towel while Gina added the premeasured spices from the row of tiny bowls to the larger one and stirred in sour cream, reading aloud the recipe she’d never seen before as she did so. “How’s your love life?”
And wasn’t that the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. She had no damn love life. At least not one she’d be able to discuss without using words forbidden on regular TV. Just the night before, she’d shown her latest lover to the door. Like the others, he’d been drawn by her fame, and stuck around to spend her money. She’d rather be alone than put up with another pretty boy who thought she could help him get started in modeling or movies.
“Oh, you know.” She shrugged and winked at the camera. “I like to keep some things private.”
Corinne bent and sniffed the bowl of dip. A shifter move if Gina had ever seen one, but this woman was 100 percent human. She’d stake her life on it. If there were shifters afraid to eat, she’d never met one. They needed fuel for their bodies, no matter what size.
“Of course,” the woman said, swallowing hard and standing straight again. “But our viewers would love to know if your…special circumstances affect your relationships.”
Setting down the knife she’d just used to dice some onion, Gina stepped away from the table. All her attention went to keeping her fangs from descending, her claws from appearing, and a new-made corpse from flying across the room. The woman could be referring to her being a shifter, or the fact she was a shifter raised by humans, any number of things. But her intent was clear. Fat girls can’t find dates.
“Special… Oh, yeah. I’ve seen the gossip rags at the supermarket checkout. That I never date a guy more than once or twice then toss him aside.” Translation: I get lots of dates. “You don’t believe I’m that fickle, do you, Corinne?”
Cornered, the host shook her head. “Of course not. That’s why I wanted you to have a chance to clear up the rumors.”
Gina flashed her best fake smile. “Having been in a couple of hit movies and on the cover of some magazines can intimidate some guys, but I’m not looking to settle down, anyway. Not yet. When would I find the time for home and family?” Grinning with closed mouth, in case of fang, she waited for the applause to die before going on. “How’s your love life, Corinne?”
“I…” Corinne stuffed a single potato chip with less than a millionth of an ounce of dip into her mouth and closed her eyes in ecstasy that probably made her forget her utter lack of love life. It was all Gina could do not to shove the whole bowl in her face. Not only did she prefer to make her calories count, a few slices of unwashed potato cooked in oil that, from the rancid odor, had been in the station kitchen for a few years, held little appeal. If she liked her better, she’d invite Corinne out to lunch and show her what a real meal tasted like. Hell, even a sea-salt-dusted potato chip cooked in fresh oil or a french fry. Nobody should have to live hungry just to be the right size on some chart or keep up appearances. People, and shifters, came in all sizes and shapes, and a
ll of them could be beautiful. Skinny, fat, tall, short…inner beauty mattered more, and it shone through any outer appearance if a person took a moment to look.
Ms. Corinne was ugly. Her loneliness and resentment of the “beautiful people” made her that way. What a job! Interviewing people who lived the life she thought should be hers.
As a model, Gina often mingled with the high-fashion variety, and their resentment at her eating a sandwich while they made a carrot stick last all day both disgusted and made her pity them. And as to love life? None of them seemed to be any happier just because their ribs were countable through their shirts. They were not embracing their nature-bestowed beauty. They were struggling to be something else.
Slamming the door of her Tesla, she dropped her head onto the steering wheel. The fat girl torment from skinny girls was nothing new, and the audience had been very sweet to her. The question-and-answer session she’d instigated after the cameras shut down had been a delight. But, the love life thing? Seeing herself on gossip mags at the supermarket was bad enough. At the peak of her career, she didn’t have time to settle down, even if she’d ever met anyone she wanted to make a home with. And her BOB—battery-operated-boyfriend—did more for her than the men she did date. Maybe being a shifter raised by humans had made her expectations weird.
As she settled back in the seat, the dash indicated a phone call from Juniper, and she said, “Answer.” If anyone could cheer her up, it was her fellow plus-size-shifter model. They’d been through so many of the same challenges. And joys.
“Gina! I just saw you on Early Morning L.A.”
“Awful, wasn’t it?” She backed out of the spot and headed toward her apartment in West Hollywood. A hot bath and a cold cloth over her eyes might help with the headache throbbing in her temples. She’d have to put the gym and horseback riding off until she got that under control. More pounding would not help.”
“I don’t know how you didn’t kill that skinny bitch on the spot. Snap her in half.” Juniper’s chuckle, more melodic than most hyenas’, cut off abruptly. “Hey, where’d you learn to drive?”
Ignoring the traffic comment, which was not directed at her, Gina turned up the hill onto her street. “I would have liked to snap her in half. It wouldn’t have been any trouble. Did you see her glom onto that chip? And honestly, the oil was rancid. I only pretended to eat one myself.”
“Starvation makes the best sauce?” Juniper laughed again. “Listen, I called because of that love-life comment.”
“Another reason to kill that stupid woman.”
“Right. But also…I think it’s time we take a more positive stance on dating.”
“Huh?” She stopped to let a coyote cross the street, waving to her neighbor as he stepped to the side of his home and shifted to a naked elderly man then disappeared inside. “Are you saying I have a bad attitude toward men?”
I’m saying we need to call Gerri Wilder at the Paranormal Dating Agency. Maybe go out with one of our own kind…or something similar…for once.”
She began to protest then stopped. “Isn’t she known for permanent hookups? I work two hundred hours a week and have three movies to film in the next two years.”
“Geez, I’m talking about a date with a nice guy. Kind of a palate refresher after our last few experiences. I don’t think she forces you to marry anyone on the first date.”
“I don’t think there is a guy out there who can handle all my awesome.” The guy behind her honked, and she sucked in a breath of irritation.
“Then tell her you need two.” She had to be kidding.
“Har. Har. Listen I need to go. I’m pulling in. Thanks for calling.” Another horn honked. The guy swerved around her. Residential streets were not speedways.
“Promise you will call?” Juniper pleaded. It was never easy to say no to her friend.
“Only if you do.”
“Done.”
Pulling into her driveway, Gina thought longingly of what it might be like to go out with a nice guy, one who wasn’t into her for her money, her fame…or because he thought a jaguar shifter might be a fun kink.
“Do you think she can find someone who doesn’t know who I am?”
“Probably. You’ll have to call her and see.”
So she did.
Chapter One
Walter stumbled out onto the ledge outside his cave/condo in the latest cliffside development. A cloud of purple and green smoke shot through with electric—literally—green sparkles followed him into the chill air. Choking, he tried to avoid the tiny shocks the sparkles nailed him with, ducking and twisting from side to side.
“What the hell, Wizard!” A flaming curse swirled into the cloud, creating a chaotic purple fog nobody could breathe. Not without their lungs exploding. An article in Magic Monthly the month before warned about just such an occurrence. Wizards and dragons were a bad mix. So his parents had warned in high school when he’d begun the magic courses.
Of course, they’d not been thrilled that he hung out with Conflagration, although they’d never known how close they came to going further than that. They didn’t care if he went for males or females, just not this one! Their families had shared a casual rivalry for centuries. Inter-mating was frowned upon.
Waving his wand, Walter cleared the cloud before he lost consciousness, but just barely. “Go back in your cave, Conflagration, and mind your own business.” Hard to believe they’d ever shared any connection at all. Much less bought next door to one another in the new development. If only he’d known—if the Realtor, who knew them both, had told him at the time, he could have paid half the dollars for a place in the swamp townhomes across town. But no. Nothing but the newest and hippest for him and, unfortunately, for Conflagration. As they’d discovered on moving-in day, after signing the contracts, taking on the mortgages, and learning they’d be living side by side at least until one of them decided to move on. Why the hell didn’t the bastard wear a shirt when he came outside, anyway? It wasn’t exactly toasty in the foggy depths of winter. Who was he showing off for?
And damned if it would be him who moved! He’d spent every extra dime to acquire the three-story cave-wall unit with views of both mountain and sea in the Sideline Cliffside Condos. Let his old enemy move to the swamp. Maybe it would put out some of that fire.
Speaking of which, the other dragon raged on, flickers of flame emerging from his mouth with each word. “I’d love to mind my own business, but whatever the hell you’re doing is interfering with my cataloguing. So…could you cut it out?”
Kissing him could have been a hella mistake, too. Burnt lips would not be much fun. Not that he’d flamed him. And since Walter had stuck with females since then, and tried to avoid Conflagration since “the incident” right before graduation, it was probably just as well.
“Are you done?” he snapped. “I have things to do.” Turning on a heel, he stomped toward his open door.
“More than. Why don’t you move?”
He spun back around. “Why don’t you? If I never see you again, it will be years too soon.” Especially with all that pale, gleaming skin exposed, the deep chest and six-pack abs, toned biceps and forearms he wanted to bite. Conflagration managed to be shirtless all year round, full of energy even in winter when Walter was feeling pasty and less-than-energetic, when his dragon wanted nothing more than to curl up in front of the stone hearth and wait for summer. If not for the string of orders he had to complete every month in order to pay his mortgage, he’d do just that. Maybe he’d been foolish to buy such an expensive property as a wizard still new to the game—most wizards were not considered masters until they practiced for a century or more. “And I hope you’re not going to the reunion!”
Shit, why had he said that?
“I hadn’t planned on it,” the redheaded dragon bit out along with a few more flames, leaning on his balcony railing, tendrils of fog curling around him. “But if you would prefer I stay home, I guess I’ll have to RSVP my attendance. Anything
to make your day a little worse, buddy.”
“No…of course I don’t want you to skip it,” he snarled. “In fact, I can’t wait for you to meet my date.” His dragon let out a startled roar at that, which he tried to keep behind lips snapped shut. Damn thing liked honesty, and he no more had a date than a top hat. Which he would also need for the ridiculous fancy-dress ball the committee had decided to hold. “She’s very excited to have the opportunity to wear her tiara.”
The dragon narrowed his blue/gold eyes, but amusement flickered there. “What is she, some kind of duchess?”
“Something like that.” Way to dig deeper and deeper and… “You coming stag?”
A brief hesitation before Conflagration shook his head. “I considered it. Didn’t want to subject my new girl to an evening of boring reminiscences. She prefers more exciting pursuits.”
“Which explains why we’ve never seen her around here.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he snapped it closed again.
“And your lady? Have you been sneaking her in after dark?”
He really should have thought before speaking, yet he rambled on like a fool. Nobody else could make him behave this way. “I visit her at her home. She isn’t fond of the smell of sulfur and brimstone. It tends to cling to fine fabrics.”
“Right. Because you are an immaculate dragon, with your foul spells and flames that smell like primrose.” Conflagration’s tone held all the disgust he probably had coming. “Let me make up for your inconvenience with a priceless ancient document from the hoard…oh, wait. It’s probably too stinky. Odd, none of my clients complain. I’ll have to apologize to the sheik and the countess.”
Showoff.
“Perhaps we should share a table at the reunion, so our dates can talk,” Conflagration went on. “After all, we’ll have the only beauty queens at the event.”
Claimed by Her Dragons Page 1
