Crush

by Vivienne Savage

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Other Payne & Taylor Books

  Epic Fantasy by Dominique Kristine

  Paranormal Romance by Vivienne Savage

  Crush

  Dawn of the Dragons #3

  By Vivienne Savage

  All material contained herein is Copyright © Vivienne Savage 2016. All rights reserved.

  ISBN PENDING

  ***

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  Chapter 1

  According to the journalist on Astrid’s television, human-on-metahuman violence spiked over the summer months. Veiled insinuations from the polished, pretty and blonde morning news anchor claimed paranormal creatures had it coming for openly displaying their talents by poolsides and in their yards where neighbors were able to see their unnatural shapes. How could America, or even the rest of the world, adjust to the changes overnight?

  Astrid knew better. She blamed it on intolerance. In the six years since the emergence of magical beings, tension had only grown. She’d expected humans to live in harmony with their quirky neighbors, not haze them and drive them from peaceful communities.

  Some werebeasts chose to reside in shifter-only villages constructed by wealthier members of their community, while others, like Astrid, flew under the radar by changing their name and identity and bribing the press. Anytime in public, Astrid fervently hoped no one recognized her from the happy-go-lucky little girl who once visited the president and first lady at the White House.

  It worked as suspected. At times, she’d receive skeptical eyebrow raises, but when asked her name, she had a list of aliases at her disposal. She’d been anyone from Ingrid Hofferson to Astrid Ellis, sometimes carrying a phony ID card to match.

  Within a few moments of turning on the television, she wanted to turn it off again. “Neighbors remember the victim as a friendly man who mowed lawns for the elderly members of the community. Police have confirmed it as a hate crime and have no leads at this time.”

  She frowned. Such a needless loss, all because the man was a witch.

  “Well, that’s enough of that, don’t you agree, Cleopatra?” she asked the kitten prowling by her television. After turning off the news station, she gave herself a final look in the mirror, fluffed her curls, and grabbed her purse. “Play nice with the others.”

  If Astrid didn’t own her business, she’d be officially running late. By the door, she stepped into a pair of strappy, gold-toned sandals, and then surveyed all she commanded inside her apartment. Her father may have helped her realize her dream, but it was hers, and a profound sense of pride resurfaced.

  Her recent residential acquisition claimed the building’s corner lot, a studio apartment with ample space for two workstations—one for jewel crafting, another for sketches and art. She had no carpeting, only polished floors in a warm, chestnut brown wood and silk rugs gifted by her Aunt Mahasti. The expansive windows, flanked by gauzy blue curtains, revealed a clear summer day in San Diego.

  “Keep everyone in line, Isis. Love you,” she called over to the Bengal sprawled out over the back of the couch. The older cat was the only one she owned. The three fluffy kittens bouncing around her home came from the shelter where she volunteered as a foster mom.

  While it was difficult to relinquish her foster babies, she knew they’d be happy, well-adjusted kittens going to good homes.

  An elevator took her from the top level apartment to the ground floor where she crossed paths with one of the building’s security guards. Other residents claimed he never smiled, but he often did for Astrid. The big bear, a grizzly she assumed, rarely allowed anyone to see beyond his gruff exterior.

  “Morning, young lady. Late start for you today.”

  “Morning, Charlie. I overslept,” she admitted. “How are the grandbabies?”

  “They’re great. Beth finally got around to sending pictures to my phone.”

  His bear shifter daughter had married a human, and recently she’d given birth to twin boys. Astrid leaned close while he dragged a large, scarred finger over his cell phone screen to reveal two plump, rosy-cheeked infants. She fell in love with their chubby faces.

  “They’re adorable!”

  “They are,” he said proudly.

  Before leaving, she promised to finish his commission within the week. She’d finally dreamed up the perfect gift: a gold bracelet for Beth with a pair of bear cubs made from yellow topaz chips.

  Warm sunshine and a cool breeze kissed her cheeks as she stepped outside. She headed down the already busy sidewalk at a leisurely pace, soaking in the laid-back atmosphere. She preferred San Diego’s easy pace over Los Angeles’s hustle and bustle.

  Like clockwork, Astrid arrived at her preferred coffee bar after the morning rush. Thirty minutes ago, men and women in smart business suits packed the cafe from the counter to the door. Now there were only a couple, a few fellow artists she recognized, and one very fine-looking sailor in his dress whites. He stood in front of her in line—a tall, broad-shouldered figure clad entirely in white, from his pristine shirt to his shoes. He’d tucked the cap beneath his left arm, the bill facing her. For a moment, she enjoyed the view, until her phone beeped and drew her attention to an incoming text.

  Mom: Hi, Astrid! How’s work? Are you okay?

  Her mother must have seen the news report. That was the only reason Astrid could surmise for the early morning inquiry to her welfare. She rolled her eyes and chuckled, swiping her finger across to reply.

  Astrid: Doing good. Getting my caffeine fix.

  Mom: Call when you get the chance. I have something to give you.

  Astrid: Yeah? What’s that?

  Mom: You’ll have to come home to find out. Friday maybe?

  The customer ahead of her completed his order and maneuvered around her with a courteous smile, white teeth against warm-toned skin of an indiscernible ethnic heritage, and bright green eyes. They were the greenest eyes she’d seen since her friend Javier Arcillanegro. Like her, he’d been born half dragon, half human, and their parents had hoped fervently for a match between them.

  Instead, he’d been like a brother to her or even a close cousin—an annoying one who hadn’t yet left his teens. Javier was still a child by dragon standards, nearly a decade her junior.

  Astrid: I’ll call when I’m at work and by my calendar. Love you.

  “Morning, Astrid. The usual?”

  She tucked her phone away and gave the barista a sunny smile. “Let’s be adventurous and try something new today. Large s’more frozen latte with a double shot of espresso and coconut milk, hold the whip, please. Oh, and a trio of those mini raspberry white-chocolate scones too, thanks.”

  “No charge,” Wendy told her from behind the counter before s
he could insert her card into the machine. “The sailor in front of you must have been feeling generous. He paid ahead with a twenty for the next couple people.”

  Astrid blinked and swiveled her head to search the man out. He stood at the far end of the counter, waiting for his order. An impressive assortment of colorful ribbons in neat rows stood out against his pristine uniform, and his various pins gleamed.

  “Did he really?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh.” Wendy giggled and lowered her voice. “His name is Nate. He comes in here sometimes from the base. I think he’s a lieutenant or something.”

  “Thanks.” Astrid edged down the counter to wait for her drink and food, giving the officer another once-over from the corner of her eye. He didn’t seem to pay her much mind beyond offering a polite smile.

  “Thank you for the whole pay-it-forward thing,” she said to break the ice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s no trouble, ma’am,” he replied easily, his voice deeper than implied by his deceptively youthful features. He couldn’t be a day over thirty. “You looked a little distracted, so I thought I’d save you the hassle.”

  “Astrid,” she offered. “I’d say ma’am was my mother, but she’d probably make a face and tell you she’s way too young to be a ma’am.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine, Astrid. I’m Nathaniel, or Nate for short if you like.”

  Their orders arrived back to back, their names scrawled across the white cups. “Scone? It’s the least I can do since you bought them. Though…” She eyed his uniform. “You might be pushing your luck on the whole bravery thing, getting coffee and icing on yourself.”

  When she tipped the brown paper bag toward him in offering, Nate graciously accepted one of the sweet delights. Her skin tingled when his green eyes roved from her golden sandals to the pale blue, off-the-shoulder dress. His observant gaze made her pulse race.

  “I like to live dangerously,” he quipped before raising his steaming cup. “I guess it comes hand-in-hand with working in security on the base.”

  Under normal circumstances, Astrid would have thanked him again for his generosity and left, but his kind green eyes held her attention. Like a bird with a shiny new toy, she lingered for conversation, all the while observing the sailor for subtle signs of him being a man on the run.

  “So I guess the base doesn’t have good coffee?” she asked.

  “It’s not bad, depending who starts the pot up, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to enjoy this fine day,” after a pause, he added, “or your chipper company for that matter. Though I could say the same thing for you. Coffee overpriced at the university?”

  “Ha. I haven’t been to the university in over a year, but you’d be right about their prices."

  Nate glanced at the door when a group of noisy teens entered. They eyeballed Astrid in passing, focusing on the hem of her bohemian chic dress.

  “Wanna get out of here? I’ll walk you back to car,” he offered with a nod to the door.

  “Um, actually I walked but my job isn’t far.”

  “After you.”

  Nate held the door like a true gentleman. As she brushed by, an electric buzz zipped up her spine. The sensation startled her, making her grateful for her frozen drink. Otherwise, she’d have coffee splashed over her hand. Her skin felt flushed and warm. Her dress, while short and breezy, suddenly had too much fabric to bear.

  What the hell was that about? Am I sick?

  “Which way?” he asked.

  “Oh, um, I work over this way.” Still fumbling over the unexpected spark, she gestured down the street and found herself staring again as Nate put his cap on. In the sunlight, his eyes stood out against his light brown skin even more, and she spotted freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and upper cheeks. They didn’t detract from his handsome looks, neither did the slight bend to his nose and thin scar at the corner of his mouth. They made him interesting. She wanted to take his slim face between her hands and cover it with kisses.

  “Let me guess… Bookstore?”

  She laughed. “Books? What makes you jump to that conclusion?” Did she look like a book junkie? A librarian? Around them, the Gaslamp Quarter operated under the lull of the quieter morning hours. Most people worked, although a few tourists wandered the sidewalks.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted with a quiet, good-natured laugh at his expense. “Clothes?” Nate studied her again, and when he appraised her, it set off a series of flutters in her tummy, unlike the disinteresting college boys in the cafe.

  “Wrong again.” She laughed and came to a halt outside a shop nestled between a clothing boutique and a wine bar. Gold letters painted across the window declared the shop to be The Dragon’s Hoard. The O in Hoard resembled a gold coin in metallic paint.

  With her keys in hand, she let them in and disabled the security system. Automatic lights activated, casting a subtle glow over carpeted floors and spotless, glass displays.

  Nate whistled. “Wow, talk about sparklers.”

  Glossy cabinets with black velvet-lined shelves displayed handcrafted jewelry and delicate crystal figurines. Oil canvases depicting dreamy landscapes hung on the walls. The spacious building provided the freedom to create art in the back while maintaining an eye on the storefront.

  “Only you? No other employees?”

  With eyes gleaming in genuine interest, Nate drifted to a shelf decorated with tiny, jade figurines. She’d learned the art of gem sculpture from her grandfather Maximilian, and made him proud when she excelled at his preferred craft.

  Gems were her calling, the natural gift she’d honed over the years of seclusion at Drakenstone Manor. With only Javier’s infrequent visits, a friendship with Svetlana, and a bond she’d developed with a witch in Texas, most of her childhood passed in isolation.

  “Just me,” she confirmed. “One of my girlfriends will stop in sometimes, and I trust her with the register when I’m in a creative zone, but yeah, just me. It only ever gets busy if there’s an event downtown or something. Even then, I’m never packed. People wander in, look, then wander out again. Some buy, some only look.” She shrugged and tossed her purse behind the front counter.

  He whistled. Items on the open shelves bore tags with digits in the hundreds. The ones behind glass sat beside small folded cards directing the buyer to speak with the attendant, their worth too valuable for the average shopper.

  “Next, you’ll be wanting to tell me you’re also the artist responsible for filling this place with jewelry.”

  Astrid cocked her head. “How’d you know there’s only one artist?”

  “It’s all in the same style. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, I am,” she said in a daze. She set her coffee down and turned on the stereo to her preferred station before preparing the register.

  “That’s some talent. So, if it’s not too personal, when you aren’t making art, what do you do for fun? Or are you completely addicted to your work?” He cracked a wide grin.

  And then Astrid’s entire world changed; the floor dropped out from beneath her. Sweat moistened her palms, prompting her to wipe both hands against her dress.

  Handsome, check. Good job, check. Knows his art, check. The best smile she’d ever seen on any man, check.

  The expression on his face stood apart from his casual smiles, stealing her breath away. For her, it was the emergence of the sun from behind the clouds after a week of stormy skies.

  “Astrid?”

  She snapped out of it, and heat surged to her face. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Obviously, I’m not caffeinated enough. Uh, anyway, I was going to say that art is fun. What about you? Something tells me you aren’t one of those party hard sort of sailors.” She squinted and sized him up again. His complexion had a healthy, bronzed glow. “Surfing,” she guessed. “Or, wait, no… volleyball. Beach volleyball, Top Gun style.”

  Bad idea. Thinking of the iconic beach volleyball scene in one of her mother’s favorite movies m
ade her imagination skyrocket to fanatical levels of visualizing Nate shirtless and gleaming under a sunny, California sky. She shook it off and tried to focus.

  “Nah. I like to—” He cut himself off and seemed to reconsider his answer. “I guess you could say my family is into the fish and wild game thing. Not for trophies. When I was a kid, Dad would take me camping, and we’d fish the entire weekend and survive on what we could catch. And maybe I am known for waterskiing on occasion. The rest of my time is divided between chillin’ out and taking my girl Echo to the dog park for a game of fetch, you know?”

  “Huh. Waterskiing.” Not a guess that had crossed her mind at all. While he loitered, she moved to a worktable and pulled out her sketchbook, then returned to the front counter and took a seat on the stool. With her pad propped up on her lap, she started to sketch out a necklace idea featuring some green and blue gemstones she’d been holding on to for ages. Nate had inspired ideas.

  “So did you all survive off fish only or did you get rabbits and stuff to go with them? My dad takes me hunting almost every summer.” Her lips quirked up at the corners. “We fish, too.”

  “Nobody can field dress a rabbit quicker than me.” He shifted his weight and leaned forward to snoop. His cologne, mixed with his natural musk, wafted around her and threatened to tear her attention away from her drawing. Damn her shifter sense of smell. “Your dad sounds cool. Some guys aren’t into doing that with their daughters.”

  “Both my parents are outdoorsy.” Not a lie at all, either. “So lots of our vacations revolve around stuff like that. Camping,” in the middle of the furthest, wildest reaches, “rock climbing,” on mountain ranges most humans couldn’t hope to scale, “or just relaxing on the beach and snorkeling,” at my uncle Teo’s exclusive island resort. With hippocampi. She smiled and angled her sketchbook away.

  “Only child, eh? Me too.” He put his back to the counter and gazed out the storefront window. “So how into the beach are you?”

  “No, I have a younger brother,” she corrected, “and I’m quite fond of the beach. California born and raised. You?” Little by little, she tried to learn more, without coming across as an overeager girl.