Dragon Fever

by Donna Grant

  This was their planet. From the dawn of time dragons had roamed this world, ruling all. They could’ve easily killed the humans when they appeared, but they hadn’t. The Kings had made room for them.

  And where had that gotten the Kings?

  Where once they ruled freely, they now hid.

  Where once there were millions of dragons, there was now only the remaining Dragon Kings.

  Where once magic pulsed liberally over the world, it was now confined to a few distinct places.

  Where once the Kings could shift from dragon to human at will, even that had been taken from them completely.

  Where once the Kings were regarded with respect and honor, they were now being hunted by every government, secret society, news outlet, and individual who sought the truth.

  The truth. He snorted loudly. They wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. It was why the Kings had gone to such lengths to keep the mortals in the dark.

  He reached for the bottle of Dreagan whisky only to find it empty. Waiting for another bottle wasn’t an option. Instead, he grabbed his jacket as he walked from the room.

  When he reached the lobby and exited the elevator, he saw a man immediately come toward him. Asher held up his hand to stop him, giving the man a quick smile as he walked past.

  He made his way to the bar. Most of the tables were occupied, as were the stools along the bar, but it wasn’t so crowded that he felt he needed to leave. Though he’d never had a real issue with humans before, the current situation at Dreagan made the need for space a priority.

  Then there was the fact he ached––deeply, voraciously––to shift. To hide who they truly were for extended periods was just…wrong.

  Anger began to unfurl within him. But was that anger directed at the humans or the Dark Fae? Both were the cause of the Kings’ state of affairs. Except, the blame could be placed on them. The Kings had a chance to wipe out the humans and the Dark––and had done neither.

  So the fault lay with them.

  Which didn’t make him feel any better.

  He’d just taken a stool when the bartender walked up. “Dreagan,” Asher said.

  “Oui,” the bartender replied and hurried to pour the whisky.

  He accepted the drink with a nod, keeping his hand around the glass as he surveyed the room. A table of two women was trying to get his attention. Asher learned it was better to ignore them rather than be polite. Women like those didn’t take hints.

  A group of five businessmen sat at a table alternatively discussing business and laughing at some joke while doing their best to gain the notice of the two women looking at him.

  Then he saw her. She paused at the entrance of the bar, gazing about as if deciding to remain. Her long black hair fell in glossy waves over one shoulder and down her back. Her eyes briefly landed on him before she chose a table toward the back corner.

  She had a confident walk that drew every male head her way––and a few females.

  A cream dress molded elegantly to her curves, hitting two inches above her knee. A wide navy leather belt fit around her small waist and matched the heels. Large sapphire and gold earrings dangled from her lobes and matched the gold necklace and curved bar that sat at her neck.

  She held a navy crocodile clutch in one hand while several gold bangle bracelets clinked around her wrist. On her left hand she had a slim gold thumb ring, and on her right she wore a wide gold filigree band around her middle finger.

  With ease and elegance, she lowered herself into a chair and gave her order to a waitress. He put her square face to memory, from her high forehead to her perfect nose and wide lips. Her alabaster skin fairly glowed in the dim light of the bar. He followed her finger as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

  That movement caused his balls to tightened. How something so mundane could cause such a reaction within him was startling––and exciting. He smiled when she politely declined an offer from one of the businessmen.

  With a crook of his finger, he called the bartender over and sent a drink to the woman. He took a sip of the whisky and watched as the drink was delivered. When the waitress pointed him out, the woman’s gaze slid to him. She gazed at him a long time before she smiled and motioned him to join her.

  The night was suddenly looking up.

  Chapter Three

  It had been so easy to gain Asher’s attention. Then again, she had dressed the part. Though Rachel hadn’t expected such an immediate interaction with him, she was still pleased. She’d guessed right in what would draw his attention.

  “Good evening,” he said in a smooth, deep brogue that she wanted to hate but couldn’t.

  She nodded, smiling “Evening.”

  “Ah. American.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  He was quick to shake his head. “No’ at all. I’ve several close friends who are married to Americans. I’m Asher, by the way.”

  She took his hand. His long fingers tenderly wrapped around hers as his Scottish brogue fell from his lips. “Rae.”

  “A curiously male name for a verra feminine woman.”

  “It’s a nickname.” It was a trick of any good undercover journalist worth their salt to remain close to the truth in any scenario. Sharing an old nickname allowed her to use something other than her name, but still answer to it because she knew it.

  “And your real name?”

  She smiled flirtatiously. “That I save for those I deem worthy.”

  One side of his lips lifted in a shockingly seductive grin. He leaned back in his chair casually, those bright green eyes of his studying her, as if by staring he might be able to see all the secrets she kept hidden away.

  Rachel found herself gazing into his eyes. Never had she seen eyes such a dazzling green before. Even if she hadn’t known he was an immortal and a Dragon King, the truth of who he was blazed in those eyes of his.

  “Your smile is fading. Why?” he asked, a small frown forming.

  “Do you believe you can see a person’s soul in their eyes?”

  “Aye,” he replied immediately.

  She wasn’t sure why she asked. She was supposed to flirt outrageously, not talk philosophy. But there was something in his green eyes that caught her off guard. It left her feeling…off balance. As if she couldn’t quite catch her footing.

  He set his whisky tumbler on the table, but kept his fingers around it. “What do you see in my eyes?”

  She wanted to turn the conversation elsewhere, to lighten the mood and make him smile again. Instead, she fell deeper into his gaze. The clink of glasses, the laughter and conversation faded, leaving them in a cocoon.

  He’s dangerous, her mind warned. He’s a liar who needs to be exposed.

  Oddly, even her thoughts dwindled to barely a whisper. She tried to look away, but she was trapped, ensnared by eyes that watched her intently.

  “Tell me, lass,” he urged softly.

  She suddenly understood the term “old soul,” because one sat before her now. And, as if opening a book, she caught a glimpse of Asher. The words then tumbled out of her mouth. “Endlessness. Sorrow. Agony. Distress. Rage.”

  His head tilted to the side, surprise evident by the way his brows lifted slightly. She blinked and took a drink of her martini. She didn’t like the way she felt off kilter, as if someone had pulled the rug from beneath her.

  At this rate, she was going to ruin everything. He was supposed to be panting after her so much that he never noticed anyone else––especially when she was in her other persona––following him.

  She quickly forgot about that as she reflected on her words. Endlessness. Was it the years he’d lived? Was immortality difficult to shoulder? Sorrow. Agony. Distress. Rage. What had hurt him so? Or was it a who? She suddenly wanted to know.

  No! God, what was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she keep focused on her mission? Her instincts were confused, as if they couldn’t decide what to think.

  “You saw quite a lot,” Asher said.

 
She shrugged one shoulder. “You allow people to see what you want them to see.”

  “That’s true of anyone.”

  “Why are you sad?” The question was out before she could stop it.

  He briefly looked at his whisky glass and half-heartedly shrugged. The seconds stretched by as silence lengthened. Finally, he said, “We all hold a wee bit of sadness, lass.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? She should know. She’d been carrying around such sadness that it fairly weighed her down. “What is a Scotsman doing in Paris?” she asked to change the subject.

  He turned the glass around with his fingers. “Business. You?”

  “Does anyone really need a reason to come to Paris?” she asked with a grin. It was her attempt to lighten the mood.

  “So you like the city?”

  She gave him a wry look. “What’s not to love? The amazing food, the magnificent museums, and the breathtaking sights.”

  “Do you come often?”

  “Unfortunately, no. You?”

  “First time in…a verra long time.”

  She understood that hesitation. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him when the last time was, but she refrained. For now. “Are you going to take in all the sights?”

  “If there’s time.”

  “You should make time.”

  “Are you offering to show me around?”

  Just what she’d been waiting for. She gave him her best seductive smile, angling her body so he could see her cleavage better. “I am.”

  “Then I’ll have to make the time.”

  Despite her screw-up, she felt as if she’d made headway with Asher. He was going to be a tough nut to crack. He kept things close. He was untrusting, and she couldn’t fault him for that. But she would get the truth. She was very good at her job, and everyone recognized her name on an article to mean it was truth.

  For the next fifteen minutes, they talked of nothing and everything. She was surprised to find he had a love of reading that matched her own. Though he’d read all of the greats––Tolstoy, Faulkner, and Steinbeck––she was more than a little shocked to discover that he’d read––and enjoyed––Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters.

  Listening to the way he spoke of his favorite authors such as J.R.R. Tolkien, Homer, Shakespeare, and F. Scott Fitzgerald, she saw another layer of the man. It didn’t help her faltering instincts after looking into his eyes. That had been a mistake. One she wouldn’t repeat with him.

  Learning more about her subjects always happened when she had to get close to them. Sometimes it allowed her to see that they might have a smidgen of humanity within. Other times, it showed just how black their hearts truly were.

  With Asher, she found it too easy to talk to him. Few men could keep up with her conversations regarding books she’d read and her thoughts. Not only did he know the authors, but he’d read the books.

  Two hours later, she sat nibbling on a plate of cheese and croissants as she listened to him debate the finer points of The Count of Monte Cristo.

  And the worst part was that she agreed with him!

  It infuriated her. She couldn’t soften toward him, no matter how enthralling she found his brain.

  He finished his third Scotch and gave her that crooked smile. “Are you staying at this hotel?”

  “I am,” she replied and lifted the toothpick with the last olive to her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth. She slowly wrapped her lips around the fruit and pulled it off the toothpick.

  His face darkened with desire. A little thrill shot through her at being able to get such a reaction.

  “Are you?” she asked softly.

  His eyes slowly pulled away from her lips. “Am I what?”

  “Staying here?” She inwardly smiled. Asher flustered. She liked that. A lot.

  He gave a nod of his head. “I am.”

  “Isn’t that convenient?”

  He watched her for a few seconds silently, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her. “Verra. I have a dinner I can no’ miss tomorrow, but if you’re free, I’d like to meet you for drinks again.”

  “This was a pleasant few hours,” she said as she got to her feet.

  He rose as well. “Aye, lass, it was. Until tomorrow?”

  Instead of replying, she smiled and walked around him. She didn’t look back to see if he was watching, though she had to fight the urge. In all her years going undercover, none had engaged her mind while charming her––until Asher. It was an odd mix that she hated to admit she thoroughly enjoyed.

  She didn’t let down the persona of Rae until she was inside her room. With all the curtains drawn, she didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing in. Still, she walked the entire suite to make sure she was alone.

  Then she bolted the door and released a sigh. Her first meeting with Asher had gone better than she could’ve hoped. She’d expected to be the one continuing the conversation, as she normally had to do in such situations.

  There had been a plethora of surprises that night. She wasn’t sure if she was more amazed with Asher or her reaction to him.

  If she did take him about the city, there was no doubt they would have fun. She nearly choked. When was the last time she had fun with someone?

  It had been fifteen years. Such a long time to be on her own after losing her family. Since that time, Rachel found it easier to only make herself happy.

  How…peculiar…to find that she hadn’t wanted to leave him.

  She twirled her thumb ring as she thought of all she’d seen while looking into his eyes. He hadn’t contradicted what she’d seen. Unable to stop herself, she wondered what could make him feel such things.

  He hadn’t given her much of an answer. Her curious nature made it impossible for her to let something like that go. The answers wouldn’t be found in her usual searches. Whatever she’d seen in his eyes was something deeply personal.

  Rachel took off her shoes and placed them carefully in the closet before she removed the dress and put it on the hanger next to her other clothes. Only then did she slip on the robe and grab her laptop.

  She watched the video of the dragons shifting a dozen times, seeking out any sight of a hunter green dragon. Since it was filmed at night, there was no way she could tell if Asher had been there or not.

  Despite the fact she’d done extensive research on Dreagan, she did another search. Sam mentioned that there were many Dragon Kings living at Dreagan. That meant they had to interact with those in the local village.

  She kicked herself for not thinking of this sooner, but there had been so much information on Dreagan Industries that it had taken up most of her time.

  Sam had also provided her with specifics on Asher and Constantine. He wouldn’t give her a list of all the Dragon Kings, which she found odd despite his claim of knowing who they all were.

  She wasn’t so naïve to trust blindly. Sam was using her, and since she wanted to expose Dreagan and the Dragon Kings, it worked to her advantage. But she was going to have to be careful with him.

  A quick search brought up the quaint village where Dreagan was situated. With the tourism brought in from Dreagan, the town was beautiful and picturesque. It was a place she would want to visit.

  As she scrolled through the website, there was mention of Dreagan everywhere. A list of “must visit” places took up the right-hand column. Right below Dreagan was a pub, The Fox and The Hound, which boasted some of the best drinks, food, and atmosphere in the area.

  It was the article of the new medical office opening and the picture of a pretty redhead that caught her attention. A Dr. Sophie Martin, new to the area from Edinburgh and with a connection to Dreagan, had decided to open her own practice.

  Rachel pulled up a new tab and did a search on the doctor. Another picture of Sophie pulled up. This one was inside a hospital, but she wasn’t wearing a smile. More digging gave her Sophie’s story, including a brief mention of a man connected to the doctor being relieved of his position.

  No
matter how much she looked, she couldn’t find how Sophie was connected to Dreagan. If the Dragon Kings were all as handsome as Asher, it stood to reason that Sophie had a lover there.

  But to quit her position in Edinburgh to open a small practice for a lover? No. It had to go deeper than that.

  Rachel closed the laptop and leaned her head back on the sofa. There were two sides to every story. Not once since she began to show the world the corruption and immorality of companies or individuals had the other side of the story ever stopped her from doing her job.

  No matter what she’d seen in Asher’s eyes tonight, she wasn’t going to stop. The world needed to know about the Dragon Kings and how dangerous they were with their abilities and immortality.

  Chapter Four

  Asher exited the car amid a flash of clicks from cameras as well as reporters doing their best to holler questions the loudest in the hopes he might answer.

  “Is it true you’re a dragon?” one reporter asked.

  Another yelled, “Shift for us.”

  They had no idea how much he wanted to do just that, if for no other reason than to get everyone out of his face. Instead, he put on a serene expression, buttoned his jacket and gave a nod to a few spectators lined up along the entrance as he walked in.

  Once inside the centre, there was no time to relax. Ms. Engel was right on his heels, directing where he was headed and giving him names of those he would be meeting.

  He stopped outside of the closed doors of the room.

  “Is something wrong, sir?” Ms. Engel asked.

  “For one, my name is Asher, not sir.”

  She held up a finger to stop him. “Mr. Constantine also tried to tell me the same thing. I work for Dreagan and whoever represents the company at the WWC. While here, you’ll always be ‘sir.’”

  Asher could accept that. Blossom was beginning to grow on him. She might be a miniature drill sergeant, but she was damn good at her job. No wonder Con used her year after year.