Guarding Her Dragon (Dragon Guard Series Book 17)

by Julia Mills

  Lastly, and this is the most important thing to remember. I will stab anyone, yes, I seriously mean anyone who yodels after I introduce myself, starts to clog dance or dares to pick up a banjo. I can take anything but a banjo…*shiver*.

  Now, that we’ve gotten all that straight, I have a helluva story to tell you. One that will make you shake your head and be thankful it happened to me not you. So, sit back, relax, grab a cold one of your choice and get ready… this one’s gonna rock your world!

  It all started a couple of years ago. I was a lawyer and a damn good one, too. Which means I was a no-good, good-for-nothing, conniving shark who didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. The only things important to me were that my win column quadrupled my loss in the courtroom and that I owned the newest Christian Louboutin’s before anyone else, the rest of the world be damned.

  I guess I should’ve seen it coming, I mean my mother did make my twenty-ninth birthday a real special event by showing up after five years of silence and announcing she was a servant of the Dark Lord and had bartered my soul for her power. Now, tell me that’s not motherly love.

  As luck would have it, I never made it to my thirtieth birthday thanks to an inept barista, a hole in the sidewalk and the number ten bus. Let me explain. On my way to court, I stopped at my favorite coffee joint, to get my usual - a quad shot, NO foam, caramel macchiato. Looking at my watch as the new girl behind the counter took longer to brew coffee than it took God to create the world, I realized if I didn’t walk out the door in exactly two minutes and seventeen seconds I would be late for court. So, using my charm, or as most would call it, my snark, I asked, “Must you pick and roast the beans for every cup?”

  Obviously, I rattled the poor thing, because she shook like a leaf on a tree during the next two minutes and eighteen seconds before putting my java in my hand and whispering, “Enjoy your day.”

  I exited the building at a high rate of speed, thinking of all the excuses I could give the cranky judge for being late. It had to be good, damn good, to avoid a fine for delaying the proceedings. You see, I was what they called habitually late, to the point that most judges and their clerks would point out, “We will be operating on regular time today, not Heidi time, so adjust your watch accordingly Ms. Burns,” so you see, I had to be creative or pay a buttload of fines to avoid a night in jail for contempt.

  I slammed my hand against the crosswalk button and at the first flash of the green light stepped forward. Unfortunately, the heel of my four-inch, flaming red Jimmy Choo’s landed squarely in a hole in the asphalt at the same time the dreaded foam I had ‘politely’ requested be absent from my drink went straight up my nose. Coughing and sputtering with tears running down my face, I ended up pulling my foot out of the shoe instead of my shoe out of the hole. Not willing to lose the heels I’d paid double for to have before anyone else on the planet, I bent down to retrieve said footwear at the precise moment the number ten bus that was headed for Fifteenth and Main turned the corner. Bingo-bango squished Heidi, Jimmy Choo’s and all.

  The next few days were a blur while I hovered around. I’m ashamed to admit that watching random crime scene techs scrape me off the pavement and the grill of the bus was the highlight. The funniest part was witnessing my mother weeping at the morgue while identifying pieces of me. She gave an Academy award winning performance the likes of Meryl Streep and the Dame Judi Dench herself. And…of course, she left out the part about selling my soul to the Devil.

  My funeral was extravagant and as you might’ve guessed, all centered around mom. She even had the audacity to have pink (her favorite color. Weird for a witch who practices the dark arts, am I right?) roses on the altar next to my urn, (Yeah, the bimbo had me cremated. Can you believe that crap?) knowing full well that pink makes me gag.

  After that debacle I kind of floated around, watching the world and wondering what was to come. Sooner, rather than later, I was whisked on a southbound journey that ended at the Gates of Hell and a welcome kick in the butt from Cerberus, the three-headed hellhound guard dog of Hades who was to be my boss, for lack of a better term.

  It seems that since my mortal soul was used by my mother to inherit the dark magic of only the Devil himself knows who, that I was now the property of Hell – lock, stock and all my fabulous shoes. I know what you’re thinking. You figure that since I was an attorney, also known as a sleaze bag to most while living, that I was headed here anyway. And…maybe you’re right but I would’ve at least liked to have made my own way…ya’ know what I mean? Oh well, que sera sera as Doris Day would say. The past is the past…or is it?

  As you might have guessed, there’s more. Whoever the dimwit was that my mother used to liberate her magical abilities from some poor hapless schmuck was apparently not the brightest candle on the mantel and instead of my mom bearing the brunt of his or her lack of ability, (OR stupidity, you take your pick.) it was passed on to me. Confused yet? Yeah, I was too.

  Picture this…I show up dressed in black leather, my fabric of choice as you’ll remember from a few minutes ago, from head to toe, wearing an absolutely fabulous pair of Giselle Cuissard four-inch stiletto boots with a pointed toe, suede covered heel and gold tone aglets that, by the way, came all the way up to the top of my thigh – zipper and all, (Had I not been in Hell I would’ve been on Cloud 9 – my boots were to die for. Get it? To die for?) to be greeted by the biggest, fiercest, three-headed dog in the Universe. (No, not the ONLY three-headed dog in the Universe, there are more – so beware, just the biggest, but I digress.) I am escorted (read that as manhandled) by his minions, who showed me to the dungeon I would be in charge of and after several hours of trying not to smell the stench of rotting flesh and fetid blood still dripping onto the stone floor from every imaginable torture device, I finally meet my trainer, Luci, Crown Princess of Hell and Lucifer’s daughter. (Yes, you read that right. The big bad evil has a little girl.)

  To say I was shocked from first glance would be an understatement. Luci was almost six-feet tall with a curvy build (not as curvy as me, but curves nonetheless) flaming red curls piled as high as they would go on the top of her head with some ringlets framing her face in a Devil-may-care way. (Get it? Devil? And her dad is…You better step up, I got a million of these.) She was smiling from ear-to-ear and her green eyes glittered like meeting me was the greatest thing ever, which should’ve made me feel welcome but it was her dress that made me realize I truly was in Hell.

  It was a pink *shudder*…no, that’s not quite accurate. It was a hot pink *double shudder* sheath dress to which she had added a huge (think softball sized) white and yellow diamond encrusted daisy brooch on the right side of her ample bosom. And…she had the matching ring which I saw when she held out her hand for me to shake and in a high cheery voice with a southern accent said, “You must be Heidi. I’m Luci and I am just as pleased as punch to meet you.”

  Not wanting to offend the Devil’s daughter, I shook her hand, smiled and responded with, “I am honored to be trained by the Princess of Hell.”

  Shrugging with a chuckle and a wave of her hand, Luci giggled (Yes, it was a giggle *shudder again*.), “It is my pleasure. Daddy is always telling me I need to stay in the castle and learn about running ‘his dominion’ but to be honest,” she stepped closer and lowered her voice to a whisper, “I’m really not very good at all the diplomatic, political stuff.” Smiling again, she laughed, “I’m more of a torture and maim kinda girl. I like being in trenches, getting my hands dirty.”

  Not sure what to say, I simply nodded and smiled while thinking, oh my God, what fresh piece of good old fashion shit has my mother gotten me into this time? Thankfully, Luci either didn’t pick up on my lack of an answer or took my nod as a sign that I agreed because she didn’t miss a beat before rattling on. “So, Heidi, I was thinkin’ about takin’ you around to meet all the other hounds and ghouls but first I want you to meet Hunter.” I turned around to give my patented ‘whatever’ smile and tough girl handshake to what I
was sure was going to be an emaciated skeletal figure who had to stand twice to make a shadow, only to find seven-foot-nothing of muscled gorgeousness, with thick wavy hair that hung down to his waist, electric blue eyes that looked right into my soul, and a low smooth baritone voice with a British accent that curled my toes when he said, “Nice to meet you, Heidi.”

  Still speechless when his massive hand closed around mine, I could only gasp as an electric current that could’ve kept the Vegas strip lit for a year ran up my arm, down my spine and landed squarely in what my sorority sisters used to call ‘my whoopee pie’. Stammering, while furiously attempting not to look like a total idiot, I finally breathed, “Nice to meet you, Hunter,” at the same time the evil little slut, Lola - also known as my alter ego – reared her perfectly painted red lips and said, “Who gives a crap what his name is? We’re just gonna be hollering ‘Oh God’ and “Yes’ all night long!”

  Shaking my head, trying to ignore Lola, I had to smile when Hunter’s pupils dilated, his nostrils flared and he unconsciously licked his lips. Of course, my victory was short lived when Luci stepped up beside Mr. Hunky Hellhound, wrapped her daisy-ringed hand around his bulging bicep and chirped, “Isn’t he just the sweetest thang?” Kissing his cheek, she added, “We’re gettin’ married in three weeks.” Then jumping up and down on her pink kitten heel slingbacks, she squealed, “Ohhhhhhhh! Heidi, honey, would you be my maid-of -honor?”

  Letting go of her fiancée, *groan*, Luci grabbed my hand while still bouncing like lotto balls on Saturday night and pleaded, “please, please pppllleeeaaassseee say yes.”

  So when the Devil’s only daughter, the crown princess of Hell, the apple of daddy’s eye asks the new girl to be her maid of honor what does the new girl do? Well, duh, she says, “Oh yes, Luci, I would be honored.” While internally groaning and wondering if there are convents in Hell because now that I’d laid eyes on Hunter there would never, ever, ever be another man for me.

  “Yay!” Luci shrieked, with such exuberance that it rebounded around my dungeon so many times it sounded like there was a chorus of Lucis instead of (thank you, God) only one.

  Pulling on my hand, the one she was still holding with the strength of Atlas, Hell’s Princess led me out of my very own dungeon (which I had decided wasn’t so bad after meeting Luci) chirping, “Byeee,” over her shoulder to her fiancée *groan* while I tried to avoid eye contact with Hunter, soon to be the Hunted…by me, at all costs. (See, even in the face of despair, I still got it.)

  The dark, dank corridor, lit by burning torches in iron sconces on the walls for light, was creepy and had it not been for Luci chattering nonstop about her wedding plans I might’ve been scared. Thankfully, we started to run into the other torturers, (Is that a word? Well, it is now.) at which time the Princess had to stop talking about her upcoming nuptials to the man of my dreams and introduce me to my fellow Hellians. (That is what I call the inhabitants of Hell. Got a better name? I thought not.)

  Hours later we arrived back at the entrance to my dungeon just as an imp, who couldn’t have been any taller than four-foot-three, came clomping around the corner pulling a little red wagon - no, really it was a little red wagon - full of buckets of chow for the hounds who did not possess the ability to shift forms. (I later found out these were the sons of Cerberus and so was Hunter which made no sense at the time, but more about that later.)

  I would’ve laughed at the imp’s floppy pointed ears, beady black eyes, bumpy swollen lips and olive green skin had he not smiled a shy little smile that showed just the tips of his two little fangs the second he laid eyes on Luci. The electricity between those two was well…electric. Not like what I’d experienced when Hunter touched me but still good enough to light the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Centre for a week.

  Several long seconds passed while Luci twirled one of her wayward ringlets around her finger and batted her eyes as the imp straightened the black leather belt around his dark brown animal skin frock and continued to smile. Finally, when I thought I might barf on my boots, I cleared my throat, stuck out my hand and said, Hi, I’m Heidi, the newest Hellhound.”

  Jumping like I’d struck him, the imp’s eyes flew to me, he took a deep breath, straightened his belt one more time and said, “Oh, Heidi. I heard there was a new hound on the way. I’m Bert…”

  His words trailed off as once again he looked at Luci, who was now suspiciously staring at the ground and frantically shaking her head with as little motion as possible, hoping, I guess, I wouldn’t see her thirteen-inch Aqua netted updo bobbing like it was about to fall over. Looking back and forth between the two it was obvious what was going on and even more obvious that it was supposed to be a secret.

  Winking at my new best friend, it was my turn to grab her hand and pull her close. Leaning towards her, I smiled and whispered, “Your secret is safe with me. After all, what are besties for?”

  Squealing with delight, Luci hugged me until I wondered if I could die twice but this time from asphyxia before pulling back and nodding, “Oh, I just knew it the minute I saw you. I knew we’d be close as sisters. Thank you, Heidi, thank you so much.”

  “You’re very welcome, Luci,” I smiled, all the while thinking, where is Hunter and how can I break up the wedding of the Princess of Hell without ending up as a chew toy for my new boss?

  (Yeah, eternity in Hell is gonna be…well, Hell…)

  Available on Amazon

  About Julia

  Hey Y’all! I’m Julia Mills the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Dragon Guard Series. I without a doubt admit to being a sarcastic, southern woman who would rather spend all day laughing than a minute crying. Living with my two most amazing daughters and a menagerie of animals, keeps me busy but I love telling a good story. Now, that I’ve decided to write the stories running through my brain, life is just a blast!

  My beliefs are simple. A good book along with shoes, makeup, and purses will never let a girl down and no hero ever written will compare to my real-life hero, my dad! I’m a sucker for a happy ending and alpha men make me swoon.

  I’m still working on my story but I promise it will contain as much love and laughter as I can pack into it! Now, go out there and create your own story!!! Dare to Dream! Have the Strength to Try EVERYTHING! Never Look Back!

  I ABSOLUTELY adore stalkers so look me up on Facebook and sign up for her newsletter at JuliaMillsAuthor.com. Send me a message!

  Thank you for reading my stories!!!

  XOXO Julia