by Leela Ash
Dragon’s Renegade
Dragon Dreams
Leela Ash
Tabitha St. George
Copyright ©2018 by Leela Ash. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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… also check out these stories of mine!
DRAGON DREAMS
DRAGON PROTECTOR
DRAGON AFLAME
DRAGON’S NANNY
DRAGON’S REDEMPTION
BANISHED DRAGONS
CAPTIVE TO THE DRAGON
DESTINED FOR THE DRAGON
PROTECTED BY THE DRAGON
STONYBROOKE SHIFTERS
DADDY SHIFTER’S VIRGIN
A SECRET BABY FOR THE SHIFTER
THE SHIFTER’S MAIL ORDER VIRGIN
DADDY SHIFTER’S FAKE FIANCE
THE SEAL SHIFTER’S SECRET BABY
CLAIMED BY THE ALPHA DADDY
NANNY TO THE SHIFTER
THE SHIFTER PROTECTOR’S VIRGIN
SECOND CHANCE WITH THE SHIFTER
OAK MOUNTAIN SHIFTERS
HER BILLIONAIRE SHIFTER BOSS
HER SECRET PROTECTOR BEAR
A SECRET BABY FOR DADDY BEAR
THE ALPHA’S MAIL ORDER BRIDE
THE ALPHA DADDY’S NANNY
DRAGONS OF KALDERNON
THE DRAGONS OF KALDERNON COMPLETE SERIES
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…and if you are interested, here is another series from Totally Romance Publishing that I think you may enjoy!
THE LOST CREEK SHIFTERS
The Lost Creek Shifters series is a collection of novelette length standalone Bad boy romances that fit together to tell the longer story of the ancient tale of the bear and wolf shifters in a small mountain town. Enjoy!
ARLO (Book 1)
SCAR (Book 2)
BLU (Book 3)
BODHI (Book 4)
KODHI (Book 5)
ZEKE (Book 6)
RIVER (Book 7)
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.
Lost Creek Shifters Preview
Chapter 1.
How much the world could change in eight hours…
Head spinning, Maya Graham smoothed her dress. It was her favorite, a cheery yellow sundress that showed off her long legs and tanned shoulders. After you cleaned up from a three-mile run on a hot Florida day, it was just the thing to keep cool.
That was her main concern when she put it on this morning.
Then, her boss, Lucian Fowler, called from New York. On a Saturday. He needed to talk to her, now. Not over the phone – in person. No, not tomorrow. Now. As in, a car would pick her up momentarily. That car whisked her to a private airport where a small chartered jet hustled her to New York City and dumped her into a waiting limo. Which, in turn, rocketed through Manhattan traffic to deliver her to the posh New Amsterdam Tower.
That was how she came to be sitting here, in the Tower, with its polished marble floors, watching bankers and investors stalk past in suits and designer gowns, wearing a dress as out of place as a dandelion in a mausoleum. Struggling not to shiver in the Tower’s artic air conditioning.
And why so much hurry, anyway? Maya was an archeologist, not a stock broker. Pre-contact Native American Ethnography fascinated her… but even she had to admit it wasn’t a time-sensitive field.
A black-clad valet appeared at her elbow. “Ms. Graham? Mr. Fowler will see you now.”
“Of course.” She followed him, her sandals whisper-quiet on the hall’s stone floor. A tiny elevator flitted up thirty floors and opened to reveal a long corridor covered in Turkish silk carpets. Pedestals lined it, each one holding some priceless relic. Egyptian curse tablets. Roman busts. A brilliant jeweled egg that was either a Faberge – or a remarkable fake. And good heavens, was that a 17th century English witch-bottle? Each new wonder held her for a moment, like a fly on syrup.
“Ahem.” The valet frowned at the distance opening between them. With a blush, Maya rushed to catch up.
The hallway opened onto a corner office. Floor to ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of Central Park. In the midst of them, with his hands folded behind his back, stood Lucian Fowler.
Three years she’d worked for the American Prehistoric Ethnography Project, and in all that time, she’d never actually seen her boss. An APEP agent had hired her. Lucian was older than he sounded on the phone – and much more handsome. Age had scattered flecks of grey through his glossy brown hair, but it had not added weight to his sculpted waist or weakened the powerful muscles that moved beneath his red silk shirt as he turned to welcome her.
“Ms. Graham. How good of you to come.”
His eyes lingered on her tanned legs and Maya felt warmth creep onto her cheeks. “Thank you for sending the plane. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to change into something more appropriate.”
“Oh, you’re fine.” He chuckled, his eyes crawling up and down her thighs. “In fact, I wouldn’t complain at all if you wore something even more ‘inappropriate.’”
Forget the business suit. Now she wished she was wearing a burka. With an awkward smile, Maya took a chair. And tugged her dress as low as it would go.
Lucian settled down on the other side of the desk, which ended the ogling. “You’re probably curious why you’re here.”
“Yes, sir. I hope there isn’t a problem with the Amesfield dig.”
“No problem at all.” Locking his hands together, he spun lazily back and forth. “Quite the opposite. We are delighted with the work you’ve done for APEP. With just scraps of data, you managed to locate the first Ais and Mayaca settlements in Florida. The Amesfield dig, in particular, is going to expand our knowledge of these tribes a hundred fold.”
Pride welled up, squashing the butterflies of doubt that had troubled her all the way up from Florida. “That’s so kind of you. And thank you, sir, for the generous funding. It was an archeologist’s dream.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen ‘generous’ yet.”
Why did that sound ominous? Maya scolded herself for being paranoid.
“We’re moving you off the Amesfield project.”
“What? But sir! We’ve only excavated one residence. There’s so much more to do!”
“And someone else will do it. Don’t worry.”
But not her? Baffled, Maya bit her lip.
“Ms. Graham, let me be blunt.” Lucian leaned back in his chair, studying her over his steepled fingers. “Any idiot can dig up pots. We didn’t hire you to do manual labor. What we value is your insight, your intuition, and your ability to see patterns in random bits of historical data.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Very complimentary. But all she could hear was that she was losing her beloved project.
&
nbsp; “How’s your Dutch?”
“Excellent, sir.” She’d studied all the languages of the European colonies in eastern America: Dutch, Spanish, Swedish, and French.
“Good. As of now, we’re setting you up here in NYC. Your next project involves the early history of the Iroquois Confederacy here in New York State. New Amsterdam back then, of course. Hence, the need for Dutch.”
Maya’s lingering unhappiness swelled. “The history of the Haudenosaunee is well known.”
“The who?”
“Haudenosaunee. It’s what the Iroquois call themselves.” He waved a hand, but she pressed on. “Their history is well documented. And, unlike the Ais and Mayaca, these Nations weren’t destroyed. I really don’t see how I could make a big difference…”
Fowler wasn’t interested in her protests. “We’ve located previously unknown documents from the Dutch colonies which mention Iroquois sacred sites. We want you to locate those holy places.”
That would be a boon to the modern tribes… and an interesting project… but Maya thought of Amesfield and couldn’t muster much enthusiasm.
A fact that was not lost on Lucian. “Still not sold? Let me sweeten the deal. We’ll bump your pay to $200,000 a year.”
Her jaw dropped in a very unprofessional gape. “That’s crazy! That’s four times what I make now.”
Pleased with her greed, Fowler smiled. A cool, predatory grin that stole a bit of her glee. “You deserve it. You deliver, where others have failed. We reward that.”
Two hundred thousand. She’d never heard of an archeologist making that much! All of her protests died, killed by that insane number. “Sold!” she managed to croak.
Her boss rocked back, roaring with laughter. “That’s my girl! I love a woman with ambition! Now, I’m almost embarrassed to tell you that there’s more.”
More… How? Why?
He pushed a thick envelope across the table and tossed a set of keys on top. “Signing bonus of $20,000 cash. Forget your stuff in Florida – just buy new. The keys go to an apartment here on 5th Avenue. APEP will cover the cost of it as long as you’re on this project.”
An apartment overlooking the Park? Good heavens, that must be worth millions!
In the midst of her delight, however, a tiny cloud of doubt crept back. “Mr. Fowler, this is extraordinarily generous…”
Lucian stepped to his side table and began pouring two shots of whiskey. “I’m hearing a ‘but…’ in there.”
“But, why? I mean, I love American archeology. I do! And I’m glad you love it too, but… How can it be worth this much to anyone?”
He held a glass out to her. Fingers numb, she took it. “I’m the businessman. Let me worry about valuations and costs, all right? You just do your job. Or have you decided to turn us down?”
“No!” she yelped. The thought of losing this offer made her sick. “No, I accept!”
“Excellent.” He clinked his glass against hers and raised it high in salute. “I’ll have Human Resources draw up the contract.”
The whiskey burned its way down Maya’s throat and tears blurred her vision. When she blinked them away, she found Lucian staring at her again with eager, hungry eyes. Eyes that bored down on her cleavage.
Maya scrambled to her feet. “Thank you. Uh, thank you again.”
“You’re welcome. You know, you’re a very beautiful woman, Ms. Graham.”
That was… unprofessional, to say the least. Dread knotted in her stomach, sending a pall across her joy.
“I’ll have my personal shopper stop by today. He can help you pick out a new wardrobe.”
“Something more appropriate.” She forced a smile, hoping to defuse the uncomfortable situation.
“Less. I already told you that. Listen, Ms. Graham.” Lucian strolled to her side with the slow, confident gait of a stalking tiger. “I’m sure you find my offer startling. Generous – excessively so, perhaps. But this, it’s nothing.”
The urge to flee rose as he closed, so near that his arm brushed hers. And when he bent down to whisper in her ear, his breath stirred her hair. “It’s a servant’s wages. But you, Ms. Graham, aren’t a servant. There are no limits for a woman of your beauty and intelligence. With the right man at your side, the world could be yours.”
Was he seriously suggesting she become his mistress? Bile rose in her throat at the thought. Yet, behind that slithered the serpent of avarice. Four times her salary – plus a stunning apartment. Could she really pass that up?
If the job requires me to fight off my boss… yes, I can.
But would it? Her time with APEP had been deliriously fun. Generous funding, all the help she needed. In three years, she’d never set eyes on Lucian Fowler. Not even once. Who was to say that it wouldn’t be another three before they met again? Would he even remember her? Sure, she was good-looking – but supermodels lived in this town. As soon as one strutted past Mr. Fowler, he’d forget her completely.
And she’d be rich. How could she turn that down?
In the end, she couldn’t. It was too much money.
She did, however, edge away from him. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Fowler.”
His eyes sparkled. Apparently, the tiger liked playing with his food. “Please do. Johnstone?”
The valet reappeared in the doorway, silent as a ghost. “Take Ms. Graham to Human Resources. Then see that she’s delivered to Tom Mori. My shopper.” He dipped his head to her. “He knows what kind of clothes I like.”
Clutching her envelope of cash, Maya trailed out after Johnstone, feeling both elated and unclean. An offer beyond her wildest dreams… and yet, she felt like she’d bathed in slime.
Mr. Mori knew ‘what kind of clothes’ Fowler liked?
How nice for him.
Maybe she’d start wearing garbage bags to work.
Chapter 2.
Six Bears, fifteen Wolves, a dozen guys with assault rifles, plus one Witch Hare. Oh, and probably a sniper or two on that hillside taking a bead on me right now.
A slow, contented smile crept across Jamie Wolfe’s sharp face. The Fangs of Apophis were respectful – he had to give them that. They’d sent a small army of Shifters to this meeting. Hell, the humans might be even more dangerous. Back in the day, a Dragon like him could ignore most mortals. These days, they had weapons that took out tanks. And anything that could bring down a tank would set a Dragon back on his heels.
Nope. He was seriously outgunned. Even supposing the snipers on the hill didn’t have depleted uranium bullets.
Good.
A fierce elation swept through him. Colors grew brighter. His blood sang in his veins. His heart raced, drunk on adrenalin.
Only in the shadow of death did a man truly feel alive. Moments like this, where one false word spelled destruction, were what he lived for. Let other Dragons throw themselves into mindless battle. Jamie loved the games of wits. The delicate sparring of two brilliant minds.
One of the Bears shambled over to the picnic table where he sat. “Wolfe?”
“Well, yes. Or were you expecting to meet some other Dragon in this park?”
Okay, maybe this wasn’t going to be a cerebral chess match between two geniuses. Maybe the challenge would be one brilliant mind trying to keep a moron from doing something stupid.
Eh, good enough. That could be fun too. Besides, this was just a skirmish. The real battle would come later. The Fangs of Apophis were the enemies of all decent Shifters. For years, his Flight had battled them, and for years, all they’d won was a bloody stalemate.
Jamie intended to change that. Infiltrate the Fangs, learn their secrets, and give his Flight the intelligence it needed to destroy them, once and for all.
But to get to the creatures that controlled the Fangs – the Worms, fallen Dragons – he needed to convince Yogi Bear here that he was Falling himself.
Yogi hadn’t answered his question. Thinking seemed to be a long-term project for this guy.
“Let’s start with the basics, s
hall we?” Jamie smiled and let the lightest touch of his Dragon’s power set his eyes on fire. A move that made all of the gathered Fangs take a step back. “I can see you’re not a Worm, so you’re not Lucian Fowler. Want to tell me your name? Or should I call you ‘Yogi’?”
“Screw you, jackass!” Already a big man, the guy loomed another six inches as his Shifter soul seethed at the insult.
Poke the Bear, get the claw. But Jamie guessed he still had some wiggle room. “Strange, but okay. So, Mr. Jackass, I had a meeting with your boss. Where is he?”
“What did you call me?” the Bear roared. Fur began to pop out along his arms and his fingers thickened into claws.
“Well, I thought it would be a little forward of me to call you ‘Screw You.’ I mean, we’re not on a first-name basis yet, are we?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he screamed.
“Burke, wait.” Just as Jamie thought he’d gone too far, the Witch Hare spoke. Surely, she had more brains than this guy. There was no such thing as a Dumb Bunny in the Shifter world. “Mr. Fowler isn’t coming. Obviously, he doesn’t trust you.”
“Fair enough. There’s nothing a Worm cares more about than himself. Who’re you?”
“I’m Judith Little.” A strangely appropriate name. Like most Hares, she was small and willowy. Yet, she seemed even tinier than most. “The Bear is Ronan Burke. Mr. Fowler sent us to interview you.”
“Well, here I am.” He spread his arms wide, ignoring the mass of warriors and weapons that surrounded him. “Interview away.”
“Ronan?” The Hare took a step back and folded her arms across her chest.
Wonderful. The cretin was going to do the talking. Jamie waited, impatiently, as the Bear struggled to control his temper. When the last strands of fur vanished, he plunked himself down at the picnic table. “Why do you want to join the Fangs of Apophis?”
At last, the game began.
