Diamond Dragon (Awakened Dragons Book 4)

by Terry Bolryder

  Nothing would ever be the same.

  Bridget had to grin at how protective Alistair had been throughout her haircut.

  It was like every little snip was a personal insult to him, and the male hairdresser had seemed practically ready to quit until Bridget begged him and promised him a huge tip.

  It had been a long time since Bridget had been able to care about her hair, so she didn’t mind getting the cut and the highlights she would need to look different from her picture. Secretly, she was a little bit excited about what Alistair’s reaction would be when he saw her. Kind of a Cinderella moment maybe.

  Right now he was sulking in the chair next to her, flipping through a magazine while muttering under his breath.

  “We really ought to get your hair cut while we’re waiting,” she said, sitting down and trying not to laugh at Alistair’s confused look at her foils.

  “No,” he said. “I like my hair how it is. It’s beautiful.” The hairdresser snorted, and Alistair shot him a glare.

  “It is.” Bridget agreed. “But you know, it might just be safer if we didn’t stand out.”

  Alistair stared in the mirror thoughtfully. It was the same argument she’d used before that had no effect on him, but this time, he appeared resigned. He folded his arms and sat back. “Very well, serf, cut my hair.”

  “Serf?” the hairdresser asked, lip curling.

  “I’m sorry,” Bridget said. “Please, please excuse my friend here. He’s… odd.”

  “Fine,” the hairdresser said, rolling his eyes and bringing his kit over. “There’s no one here in this tiny town anyway. Might as well take what I can get.” He ran his hands through Alistair’s hair, and the dragon jumped, pinning the man behind him with a fiery glare in the mirror.

  Bridget wondered what it was that made Alistair finally willing to cut it. She also felt she would kind of miss it.

  His eyes met hers, mercurial. “Are you sure you want me to cut it?”

  “It can always grow back.”

  “What if I’m not as pretty after?” he muttered.

  She laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be pretty.”

  He slumped but allowed the man to wash and cut his hair. Not too short, just layered so it brushed his face and hit just above his shoulders. He didn’t look much different to her overall, but he would stand out a lot less with hair that could be tucked up under a cap.

  Alistair seemed fine with the outcome and had the hairdresser give him some pins to hold it back and a few bands to put it into a low ponytail.

  Bridget wondered what was going through his head as he leaned over and stared into the mirror, trying different styles.

  Jeff, the hairstylist, washed out her hair and began to blow-dry it. She kept her eyes closed, wanting to be surprised by how it looked, hoping if Jeff could do great things to give Alistair a flattering cut, he could somehow turn her into the sort of beauty that would make Alistair want to melt.

  When Jeff was done messing with her hair and flipped it back, she opened her eyes and broke into a wide grin. It was gorgeous. After taking the ends off and making it a manageable length that came just a few inches over her shoulders, the fullness was flattering and soft. Her skin and eyes were brightened by the highlights, which made all her hair look lighter and shinier.

  She felt like a new person. Well, still herself but the prettiest version of herself.

  Jeff’s eyes softened. “Do you like it?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  “Good,” he said, whipping off her cape and flipping her hair a couple more times.

  She’d never be able to do it as well as he had, in soft waves that framed her face, but for now, she could enjoy it. And enjoy Alistair’s reaction.

  She turned to him with a smile and saw him fixed on her with a deep frown.

  “What is it?” she asked, nervously touching the ends of her hair, feeling bare now that there was less of it.

  He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  Jeff threw up his hands and headed over to the cash register. “I can’t even.”

  Alistair glared at him, but there was nothing he could do. Bridget liked her hair, and even if it hurt that Alistair didn’t, she couldn’t do anything about it.

  This would make her much harder to identify with the employee badge, and honestly, before she was searching for Lana, this was how she liked to wear her hair anyway.

  Not in an overgrown, lank ponytail.

  She clenched her jaw, ignoring Alistair as she paid and they headed out.

  “What are you angry about?” he asked, looking maddeningly handsome as he shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her outside. His brown hair looked shiny and soft, and the new style was more masculine but still very him. It fit his sharp features, his strong jaw.

  “Nothing,” she said, fighting back disappointment as she got in the car. “Come on. We have a bit of a drive to our next place. A normal hotel but a big one. I was thinking that way, we shouldn’t have to deal with someone looking into the appearance of each and every guest.

  “Right,” he said, but he still seemed to be pouting.

  She didn’t get the problem. What, she wasn’t allowed to even try and be as beautiful as he was? He liked her better as the dowdy, plain girl he could feel superior to?

  He gave her an odd look, and she guessed he’d heard her thoughts. But all he did was fold his arms behind his head and lean back in his seat.

  Time for the next leg of her road trip with the dragon.

  Chapter 10

  A few hours later, it was evening, and Bridget was hungry enough to want to risk stopping for dinner at an actual restaurant. Or a roadside bar, which was close enough.

  Alistair’s mood had been driving her nuts anyway. He’d been quiet, which was unlike him, and now that she thought about it, he’d been acting weird and distant ever since they’d had sex.

  Sure, it had been the best thing she’d ever felt in her life, but he was ruining it by acting moody and sullen. She wasn’t asking for anything from him, despite his horribly mixed messages. On the one hand, he acted like it was so casual between them. Just friends.

  On the other, he acted like an enraged husband when she was threatened. No, more than that. If there was something even more possessive and protective than a husband, that’s what he was acting like.

  But there was none of the love she’d associate with that kind of relationship. He was barely paying attention to her, except for a few sullen glances.

  He was in an even worse mood after the haircut, for whatever reason, and it was really hurting her ego.

  She wanted him to find her pretty. Not just sweet or kind or brave. She wanted to be sexy to him. Irresistible, even just for a moment.

  But she supposed for him, she just wasn’t what he was used to. He could get much prettier. She was just what he had around.

  Ugh. This was why she’d tried to wait on anything physical. She’d known it would affect her like this. That she’d get feelings and start expecting things. And it would mean something to her.

  She hated that it seemed to mean something to her that it didn’t to him.

  She pulled up in front of an old-fashioned bar with a fluorescent sign out front. Not the nicest place, as Alistair would probably say, but it would do. Somewhere to sit outside the car and get a bite to eat.

  Sure enough, as they got out after cracking the windows for the kitty, Alistair stared up at the sign skeptically.

  “Muddy Boots?” he sneered. “You know how to pick ‘em.”

  “And you know how to make a day really shitty,” she retorted, glaring at him and passing him to go up the stairs and into the bar.

  Alistair followed, grumbling, looking hot in a pair of jeans and a black jacket, with his new haircut, and then stopped at the doorway, frozen. “We’re not going in there.” He looked like he was about to tell her something, but she waved him off.

  “I am. I’m hungry, and I’m not about to drive anymore until
I’ve had something to eat.”

  He tried to pull her back, but she jerked out of his grasp. Alistair wasn’t in charge of everything here.

  She stepped into the bar and gaped. There were a couple solitary drinkers at the bar and a group of rough-looking men seated in the corner, but she didn’t see a woman in sight.

  “I told you,” Alistair said, frowning. “Bad idea.”

  Maybe he was right. Her hair rose as she saw all the male gazes turn to look at her.

  She could feel the force of a dozen leers. The ironic thing was the only leer she wanted was the one she wasn’t getting. Instead of basking in her hotness, Alistair was sending threatening glances around the bar, looking dangerous once again.

  She stepped back, putting a hand on his arm. “Maybe we should just head out.”

  But then someone stepped behind them, blocking off the entrance. “Good to have you,” the portly man said, drying a glass. “What can we get you?”

  Everyone stared. “Um, a burger?” she asked, pulling Alistair to a small table with two stools.

  Alistair nodded tightly.

  “Two,” she added.

  The man shrugged and walked back behind the counter. She guessed he was just kind of aggressive about not losing any potential new customers, but it was a little off-putting to have an exit blocked.

  “So how far is our place?” Alistair said just loud enough for only her to hear. His tone was tight, probably strained by his temper, which had to be flaring with the way the men were staring at her.

  “Um, not too far,” she said.

  “We shouldn’t have stopped.”

  She touched her hair and sighed. “According to you, I can’t do anything right today.”

  “No, you were good this morning,” he said. “You helped me stay sane. But yeah, thanks to you, we’re right back here again.”

  “Back where?” she hissed.

  “Back where I’m going to have to kick some asses to protect you, and you’ll probably scold me for it.”

  “They’re just looking,” she muttered.

  “You aren’t able to read their thoughts,” he countered with a scowl. He reached in his pocket, took out a band, and pulled his hair back. “I’m gonna need this.”

  “Wait,” she said. “They’re just looking. There’s no need for this.”

  Alistair just sent her a skeptical glare and pinned back a loose piece of hair. Despite his manly presence, he looked slightly adorable.

  When their burgers were delivered, she dug in, but he fiddled with his. Only when she reminded him the sooner he ate, the sooner they could get out of there did he finally start to eat ravenously.

  Before she was halfway done, he’d swallowed his and resumed glaring around the bar.

  “If only I could figure my stupid collar out.”

  “I know,” she said. “It unlocked earlier today.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But other times, it hasn’t. I have no idea. Maybe it’s just faulty.”

  She sighed and focused on the burger, meaty and satisfying, and kept reassuring herself they would get out of there just fine. She wasn’t pretty enough with this haircut to get a second look from Alistair; she definitely wasn’t pretty enough to start a bar fight.

  The second she was done, Alistair put his jacket over her shoulders and helped her off her stool. Warmth moved through her because no matter what was happening between them, she appreciated the way he watched out for her.

  Maybe she just needed to readjust her expectations. They were friends. That was fine. He didn’t need to fall head over heels for her. He could just help her find Lana and that would be okay.

  But her heart ached at that being all there was between them.

  They were headed toward the door when she heard chairs pushed out and scuffling behind them, and the door in front of them shut abruptly.

  Alistair let out an aggrieved sigh before turning to the men coming at them from behind. “You really don’t want to do this,” he said.

  “Yeah, we do.”

  “I’m a shifter, too,” he said, and she gasped as she realized they’d inadvertently walked into a shifter bar. She hadn’t known, but Alistair probably had. That must have been why he didn’t want to go in.

  Alistair shielded her with his body and got ready to fight, and she felt guilt move through her for thinking of such stupid, petty things while he’d been thinking of their safety.

  Alistair hated their luck in finding a shifter bar at this time of night in this abandoned area.

  Bridget was behind him, regret radiating off her in waves. Whatever had been bothering her since the haircuts seemed to be forgotten now as she stayed silent and cooperative behind him.

  Fighting with humans was one thing, but shifters were something else.

  Taking on a group of them, if his collar was still working, while keeping Bridget safe was going to be no easy task.

  Still, he’d do what he had to.

  “If you’re a shifter, why can’t we scent you?” the biggest, probably a bear, said.

  He folded his arms. “You should know not all shifters can be scented.”

  “It’s a cat,” another said, standing, pulling a toothpick from his mouth and chucking it on the ground. This one was lanky and smelled like wolf. “We can take a cat.”

  He ground his teeth together. He was fine with a fight, but he was sick and tired of people trying to take his woman.

  And he was tired of fighting the part of him that said she was his. She was. And he’d protect her again and again. How ever many times it took until she was safe.

  “Not a cat,” he said, letting his claws come out just slightly. With his collar on, all he’d have was his strength, his claws, and his durability to injury. His hard skin. “But come at me. Let’s do this. Just let my mate go to the car.”

  The bear scoffed. “No. She stays here. That’s what we’re fighting over.”

  He heard Bridget’s angry noise at that and had to grin. But she didn’t need to worry. He was going to be the only shifter that got to touch her.

  Ever.

  The bear was trying to look around him to get a glimpse of Bridget, and he silently cursed her for getting that haircut. His secret flower had become a ray of sunlight, openly drawing anyone in.

  He’d known it was going to mean even more men noticing her. More men realizing she was beautiful. And he didn’t need that. Didn’t care what others thought of her. Wanted her beauty all to himself. She needed no enhancement. No change. She was perfect just how she was.

  He sighed as the first shifter came at him, ready for battle.

  But Alistair was, too, and he caught the bear around the waist, driving him back with all his strength. He found the giant man moved easily and grinned as he pushed back from him and then planted a foot in the man’s chest, kicking hard and sending him flying into the wall.

  Mmm. Even with a collar on, dragon powers kicked ass.

  The wolf who had spoken charged, and Alistair caught him with a fist to the side of his face, knocking him into the wall. The other shifters looked at him in confusion.

  This was going to be fun.

  “Wait!” Bridget called out, but he didn’t have time to hesitate. The remaining shifters were already starting to look indignant, and right now, he was between all of them and the woman he cared about, and he was going to keep it that way until none of them could approach her.

  He’d take their fucking legs off if he had to.

  Three of the shifters came at him at once, and they were able to knock him off his feet, crashing him into a nearby table as they all landed in a heap. But Alistair was on his feet first, kicking them off. He punted the first in the face as he tried to stand, making the guy spin before landing back on the ground. The second bit Alistair’s leg, and he rolled his eyes before punching down hard, knocking his lights out. The third scrambled away but grabbed a chair and swung it at Alistair.

  Alistair braced himself as the chair crashed over him,
breaking into splinters. He checked to make sure Bridget was still fine and then advanced on the man who’d swung the furniture. A broken piece of wood was still in his hand, and Alistair kicked it aside, then picked up a table and dropped it on the man’s head.

  Alistair grinned but then stopped when Bridget shrieked. “They’re shifters,” he yelled to her. “They’ll be fine. And I have some anger to get out.”

  She shrieked again, and he realized a couple of the men at the bar had approached her and one was backing her up.

  With a snarl, he was there in a second, pulling them back with both hands. He spun, turning away from her, and knocked their heads together, a violent toast with two shifter glasses.

  His expression turned dark as he surveyed the room. This wasn’t fun anymore. Someone had almost touched Bridget.

  One of the shifters pulled out some kind of club and ran at him, and another took advantage of the distraction to kick him hard in the back. Alistair grunted in pain. That one was probably a bear. He stumbled forward, and the other man caught him in the face.

  He heard Bridget call for him, but he had to focus right now. He shoved off the man in front of him and swung wildly, hitting him in the jaw. The man spat out teeth as he swung in a semicircle, unconscious before he hit the ground.

  Then Alistair turned to the man who’d kicked him in the back. The biggest motherfucker in the bunch.

  But before he could take him out, another pair of shifters grabbed both his arms, pulling them behind him. He kicked out and then regained his footing, throwing both of them over his head and into the wall on either side of the bear shifter, who was still growling, waiting.

  He was the last man standing; everyone else was either hiding or in a state of groaning semi-consciousness or unconsciousness.

  The big bear in front of him was blond with a scruffy growth of beard and a large belly. And legs like barrels. He folded his arms cockily. “Fine by me. I like a one-on-one fight. And a one-on-one fuck.” He looked at Bridget, and Alistair felt steam practically fly out the top of his head.