Gale Dragon (A BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (Dragons of Cadia Book 1)

by Amelia Jade

  “These are much more expensive. I feel like I should say that up front,” she said, not liking herself for saying that, in case it scared him off. He was scathingly scrumptious, but it was her own inner sense of “right” that made her say it.

  “I want the best look,” he said firmly. “That is all that matters.”

  Internally she shouted with glee, while trying to keep a calm look on her face. “Very well, help me narrow it down a little then. Black or gray?” she asked.

  “Let’s start with black,” he replied after a moment’s thought.

  Riss nodded and picked out an ensemble from the much more limited selection. They did not carry nearly as many of these, due to the sheer cost of them. With each piece she showed it to Zander for approval before putting it into a fitting room.

  “Okay, in you go,” she commanded, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him inside. “Let’s see how it looks,” she said, hoping she was the only one who caught the hitch in her voice as her hand once more touched the rock-like muscle of his body.

  It was so totally unfair that they—meaning every shifter ever, despite any size difference—could be so naturally blessed with such muscle. Riss hated them for that. Okay, no, she was just extremely jealous that they could eat and drink whatever they wanted and look like they were carved from marble statues at all times. But she liked food; it was a guilty pleasure. It just tasted so damn good! So she dealt with the differences.

  “Ahem.”

  Riss whirled in surprise at the noise, as her boss cleared his throat from behind her. She turned to see him hovering over her shoulder, hands clasped in front of him, a dismissive look on his face.

  “That’s good Riss. I’ll take it from here,” he told her, one hand flicking toward the back as if to command her to move.

  “Mr. Barnesworth,” she protested. “I can do this, I promise.”

  Not that either of them had any doubts about that. She was an experienced salesperson. After working there for four years, she had better be. But that wasn’t why he was trying to weasel into her sale to take over. No, he was doing it because he didn’t want to pay her commission on it. That much money was a big chunk to the store, and she knew that he would want to keep it for himself.

  And unfortunately, he was her boss, so there wasn’t much she could do about it. If he chose to take over the sale, it was either let him or risk her job. Either way she wasn’t getting the commission for the sale.

  “This is clearly an important customer,” he replied without even hesitating to consider her argument. “It requires a deft hand to ensure he keeps coming back. I am that deft hand,” he said firmly, once more shooing her out of the way.

  A presence loomed up behind her.

  “I wish to deal with Riss,” said a voice from behind her. The strength of his words impressed her once again. The deep bass crescendo sounded as if he could make a mountain move with it.

  “Sir, I assure you, I am most knowledgeable in all of our products, and—”

  “I will work with Riss,” Zander said, and she froze at the sliver of anger that entered his words, hoping that her manager heard it as well.

  “But sir,” Mr. Barnesworth said, and she had to give him some credit. He wasn’t a pushover, even if his tiger was nothing to the power of a dragon.

  “Or,” Zander said lightly. “I will deal with no one at all.”

  Flustered, her boss acquiesced to the request and scuttled his way back over to the counter, giving her a glare that promised she would be most unhappy with her life once he left. Riss just shrugged, and turned her attention back to Zander.

  “Well damn, that doesn’t fit at all,” she said, and began to tug the jacket off of him, cognizant of the fact that her hands were basically running from his shoulders down to his hands.

  With the jacket back on its hanger and out of the way, she whipped the limp tape measure off her neck and proceeded to begin measuring him.

  “Don’t people normally do this first?” he asked.

  Riss thought she detected a slight undercurrent of humor in his voice. He wasn’t insulting her, but instead simply teasing her for being so sure of herself.

  “I’ve been doing this for years,” she explained. “Normally I’m pretty good. But apparently you, Mr. Zander, have arms more suited to a monkey,” she shot back with equal humor as her hands ran down his arm, getting the length of it just right.

  Her fingers lingered on him for a second. Then two. She caught him glance over at her, but Zander never moved to stop her.

  “Pierce,” he said softly as she at last got a hold of herself and stopped feeling him up in public. She turned back to the racks to get a jacket that would fit a little better.

  “Hmm?” she asked, snapping one hanger out of the way, then another as she looked.

  “It’s Mr. Pierce,” he repeated. “Zander is my first name.”

  “Oh, right,” she said. “Well, Zander Pierce, try on this jacket for size,” she said, her index finger lifting a new jacket from the rack and handing it to him.

  “Is this one going to fit?” he teased.

  “Yes,” she replied with a shake of her head. “But not with that shirt.” She spun, digging through the silk shirts until she found a black one, replacing the light purple one she’d initially given him. “Now go, try it all on,” she said confidently, leaning back against the mirror and crossing her arms.

  Zander looked her up and down, and to her surprise, he smiled.

  Tingles ran up her spine as he directed the look at her, his intense metal-brown eyes seeming to laugh even as they strayed from her only at the last minute as he disappeared into the changing room, the door closing behind him.

  Hoo boy.

  You are in trouble.

  Chapter Two

  Zander

  He stood in the changing room for a moment, eyes unfocused as his brain replayed everything that had just happened.

  The thing that stood out most was the instant surge of building-leveling rage that had exploded within him when her manager, Barnhead or whatever his name was, had tried to weasel in on her.

  Zander wasn’t an idiot; he knew what was going on, and why. The manager was a shifter, and clearly one who couldn’t stand humans. That, to him, spoke a lot to Riss and her qualities. If she could not only get hired here, but establish herself enough that he kept her around, she must be quite good indeed. It would take nothing short of amazingness for the hawk-nosed boss to keep her on, that was for sure.

  But why had he been so ready to tear the store down if she’d been forced to stop working with him? There was something about him that held his attention, pulling him in and somehow keeping him focused on her. It wasn’t on purpose though. No, whatever she was doing was purely by accident. Riss had no idea she was doing it either.

  His dragon rumbled and if it could, he was sure it would be belching smoke and flame right now, agitated as he was by his proximity to this strange human woman.

  Zander shrugged in confusion, the movement catching his attention in the mirrors in front of him. He eyed the clothing he was wearing, and decided that Riss was, once again, right.

  The purple will never do. I’m going to have to admit she was right again.

  Laying the new jacket and shirt over the back of the plush chair in the rather opulently equipped fitting room, he began to undo the buttons with one hand, the other fingering the light material of the new shirt. It was very soft, just the sort of stylish thing he’d been hoping for.

  Now, he thought with a smile, hopefully it fits.

  Sliding off the purple shirt, he eyed the way his muscles rippled in the three-paned, angled mirror in front of him. That was probably why she’d lingered with her touch on him. Humans were always impressed by his muscles, especially when they got to touch them. Zander hadn’t had much contact with them, but the few times he’d ventured to Cloud Lake, their reactions had all been the same.

  What was different, however, was his own react
ion. The short woman with thick hips and plentiful breasts had caught his attention. Her dimples and tiny little nose, almost lost among the plumpness of her cheeks, had him riveted on the words she said, her voice happy and burbling like winter water runoff into a spring stream.

  She was one he would be okay seeing again. Yes, he was positive of that.

  Then his mind thought of something. She would be perfect for his needs. A lovely little human that he could take home and show his mother, so that she would release everything to him. It would be pleasant to get things over and done with, so that he could move on with little concern. And then perhaps he would take a tumble with this woman.

  He had to admit Riss was quite pleasing to his eyes. It had been a while anyway. A smile spread over his face as he tugged the black silk shirt on, feeling the light feathery touch of the material on his skin, and wondering for just the briefest moment what it would feel like to have her skin pressed up against him instead.

  There is room in here, he thought with a wicked grin, picking up the suit jacket and sliding that on as well.

  Yes, he would take her home to meet his mother, to show her that he had, in fact, found a mate. Then she would sign the papers that would finally give him control. It irritated him that although she was over a millennia old, and he was close to two-and-a-half centuries in age himself, that she had still refused to grant him his birthright as her only son.

  Dragon families relied on their names and their positions of power. His mother had been a successful politician, including a stint on the Guardian subcommittee of the Cadian Council, among other things. The Cadian Council itself was the ruling body of his homeland.

  Several centuries before, a huge swath of territory encompassing everything from mountains to mesas and forests and deserts had been ceded to the shifters of the continent. It formed a massive independent stronghold where they could live in peace, without fear of having to deal with humans, unless they chose otherwise.

  Cadia was the largest of the shifter territories across the world, though several others, such as Fenris, had been closing the gap of late. To keep itself in check, the Cadian Council had been formed, comprised of two shifters from each of the major races, as well as two representatives who spoke for all the minor races combined. It dealt with the large problems a population of ten thousand unruly shifters faced, while subcommittees such as the one his mother had served on oversaw much of the daily running of Cadia.

  The Guardian subcommittee was arguably the most powerful of these. The Guardians of Cadia, of which Zander was one, were the police, security and armed forces of Cadia all in one. Drawn from the ranks of all the shifters, they patrolled the borders ruthlessly to keep the naturally inquisitive humans out, and to ensure the more destructive of their own kind stayed in.

  The difference between a Guardian and a normal shifter from Cadia—such as Riss’ boss, for instance—was quite profound, which is one reason why they were given so much respect and therefore power.

  When a shifter reached puberty, they got the first taste of their animal. The changes came abruptly, and often without much warning. Controlling the animal was fairly easy, even for Initiates, those who had just changed for the first time. The mental strength of their human brain was far more adept and strong than that of their animal.

  But for a person who had spent the first twelve, thirteen, or fourteen years of their lives walking upright on two legs, the shift into animal form was disorienting. They often had to relearn how to walk, run, and generally live within their animals. It was easier for the landbound animals, like wolves, bears, the felines, etcetera.

  Zander was a dragon, however, which meant he could fly. Theoretically. After being landbound for fifteen years before his dragon appeared, the notion of becoming a flighty being was…overwhelming and intimidating.

  Many dragons, gryphons, and Pegasi simply gave up, and remained landbound when they did shift. Alternatively, they could fly, but it was an ungainly, awkward thing, just like those who had to learn to run on four legs often couldn’t adjust.

  That was where the Guardians were different. Each race had a school, a place where they learned how to become one with their animal. To become a swordmaster wielding their beast like a katana, as simply an extension of themselves.

  For Zander, that had been Top Scale Academy, the best of the best, where the dragons came into their true power as the lords of the sky and most powerful of all shifters. After several centuries of training, he had then been invited back by the Wing Commander of Top Scale, Daxxton Ryker, as an instructor.

  That was where he spent his days, and he couldn’t lie, he loved it.

  But there was more to life in Cadia than just being a Guardian, especially as a dragon. His family name, Pierce, was powerful in its own measure. Everyone knew he was a Pierce, that he had been born into that lineage. But until his mother formally acknowledged him as her heir and the successor to the name, it was nothing but a moniker, something to differentiate him. He couldn’t trade on the respect and power that came with it, access the family fortune or estates, or anything like that.

  He was provided an allowance, which was more than enough to get by and afford such things as the atrociously overpriced suit he was now wearing—which looked much better in the black shirt, he had to admit—but he wasn’t in control of it, and that bugged him.

  Most of his friends and colleagues, if they were going to inherit, had done so by now. Or they had at least been acknowledged as the heir, meaning it was but a matter of time until their parents either stepped down, or passed on from the material world.

  Not Zander though.

  That was why he needed this young woman. She would be the key to finally providing him with something that was at least a century overdue.

  Pulling the door open, he spread his arms and beamed a smaller, mischievous smile at her.

  “How do I look now?” he asked, doing a slow turn, knowing she would likely be eying him up and down as he did.

  Zander saw her eyes wander as he looked at her in the mirror. Then a shiver ran down his spine as she bit her lip unintentionally and took a deep breath. He liked the way she was eyeing him. A lot. Weird, but ultimately inconsequential, he decided.

  It must be me getting excited at the prospect of getting this whole silly mate thing out of the way early on.

  “Well, the legs are a little long, and we need to tighten up the buttons on your jacket a bit,” she said, fully immersed in her salesperson role.

  Without waiting, she bent down in front of him and began to fiddle with the cuffs of his pants. Zander, well aware of how close her head was to his cock, took deep breaths in and out, willing himself to stay calm. This was not the place to do that, no matter how much his dragon wanted it. Sometimes, he had to listen to his human side first, and this was one of those times.

  It wasn’t made any easier as her fingers pulled the pant leg tighter against him while she rolled it up, emphasizing his bulge just a bit more. Nor did her eyes straying either.

  No, this wasn’t proper. There were steps to go through before they got to that level.

  “Okay,” she said, standing up, looking a little flustered. “You can take it all off now.”

  Her cheeks went red almost immediately. “I mean, like, you can get changed back into your other clothes,” she said so fast the words almost blended together. “I’ll get these off to the tailor.”

  “Excellent,” he replied slowly. “When will they be available for pickup?”

  “Should be ready for tomorrow morning,” she told him, falling back into her cheerful personality. “The tailor comes in early, and there isn’t much ahead of you.”

  Zander nodded, and turned back for the dressing room.

  “Oh, do you have this in gray?” he asked.

  Riss nodded, pointing out the same design on another rack.

  “I’ll take one of those as well,” he told her, enjoying the smile that broke out across her face as he just doubled he
r sale without any effort on her part.

  It was a nice suit. What could he say? His mother would be aghast at the cost, but this much, at least, was his money to spend.

  A satisfied look crossed his face as he went back into the changing room.

  ***

  Riss

  Her cheeks burned long after he disappeared back inside.

  Of all things, Riss had caught herself staring right at his crotch, and the rather nice outline of his cock!

  Shaking herself, trying to regain her composure without losing control to the big, hunky dragon shifter, she busied herself by grabbing the gray suit. The pants came up and over the changing room door, and she inhaled sharply, realizing that just on the other side he was clad only in his underwear.

  His abs probably ripple all the way down to his dick without stopping.

  Stop it. Right now. You can think of him later in your bubble bath. For now, you need to close this sale. You need the money, badly.

  Zander was a strange one. There was an attraction between them, that much was clear. Or at least, she was attracted to him. Whether he felt anything in return, she wasn’t sure. His big, reserved personality was quite at odds with what she’d heard about the metallic dragons, and so she wondered if it was a mask he was wearing on purpose. They were normally firebrands she’d been told, hot-tempered and quick to act.

  That, so far at least, did not describe Zander Pierce. She’d detected his temper when her boss had come over, but it had died away after that, as if she calmed him, or something else ridiculous.

  But beyond the magnetic physical attraction—which was more powerful than anything she’d felt about other shifters before—there was also a comfortable, at-ease glow that had settled over her. It was as if she naturally felt safe with him, which was utterly ridiculous, to say the least. He was a dragon. They were not trustworthy, end of story. Some were, but the Guardians were few and far between.

  “Zander,” she heard someone ask in her voice.

  “Yes, Riss without a last name,” came the reply.