Day Care Dragon (Bodyguard Shifters Book 4)

by Zoe Chant

  If he put his mate down, she would run away and be in further danger. He decided protecting her was the biggest priority right now, because there were other humans to handle the fire situation, but to protect his mate, there was only him.

  "Are you warm enough?" he asked eventually, more subdued.

  "No," she grated out.

  "I think we got off to a bad start."

  "Do tell."

  "My name is Darius." He waited eagerly to find out what kind of exquisite name would fit such a beautiful creature.

  "I don't care."

  He tried again. "My name is Darius, and your name is—?"

  "My name is put me down, asshole."

  With relief, Darius flew over the last mountain ridge before his valley, and began to descend. "I'll be able to put you down very soon, don't worry. And I'll get you some clothes. I have many beautiful clothes for you. Or at least," he added, in the interests of full honesty, "I can obtain some on short notice." Covering up all those enticing curves seemed like a shame, but humans did prefer going around with clothes on, and he wanted very much for her to be comfortable. He decided not to mention showering her in gold and jewels; there was no need to risk moving too quickly and making her feel as if he was coming on too strong.

  "Whoopee," she said in a tone that was not at all thrilled, and after a moment, added grudgingly, "Where are you taking me, anyway?"

  "To my lair," he said with pride.

  "Oh hell, you're taking me to a cave, I should have known. This day is fired."

  "It's not a cave, it's—well, you'll see. I think you'll like it very much."

  "I very much doubt tha—Whoa."

  Darius had made sure to approach his lair from the most scenic angle, banking in a large circle over the lake that ran down the middle of the valley. The handful of scattered houses in the village along the lake looked like toys from here. This was one of the few places that he and his children could fly freely; those who lived in the village knew about dragons, and most of them were in his employment.

  And there was his lair, his beloved lair, a rambling mansion atop the cliff overlooking the lake and valley. He swooped in a long slow descent and touched down lightly on the lawn, setting her very carefully on her feet.

  "Whoa," she said again, and staggered, catching hold of her towel and clinging to it with her arms wrapped around her torso as her legs wobbled.

  Darius shifted quickly, glad in this moment that his clothes shifted with him—perks of being a mythic shifter—because human nudity taboos might have caused her to become alarmed by the sudden appearance of a naked man. He caught her gently by the shoulders before she could fall. Her skin did feel rather chilled.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin and spun around, clutching at her towel right before it slid off. "What! Who! Who are you and where did you come from?"

  "I'm Darius," he repeated, in case she'd missed it the first time. "I'm the dragon. Your mate."

  "You're the—" She blinked at him. Her eyes were blue, blue like the sky through which he flew—another sign, he thought in pleasure, that they were meant to be. "You're the dragon. You turned into a—Wait, wait, wait. What does that mean—Your mate? What is going on?"

  She truly didn't know. And then he felt ashamed. His mate was confused and distressed, standing on his lawn in a towel. He wanted to ... apologize? Surely not. A dragon clanlord did not apologize to anyone.

  Instead, he took off his expensive, charcoal-colored jacket and put it around her shoulders. She stared at him, and then slowly reached up and tugged the jacket more tightly about her, leaving pale dusty plaster smudges on the lapels. Darius's dragon was pleased: their mate had accepted their first gift! Darius only felt more ashamed, because she was looking at him with distress and confusion in her cloud-touched blue eyes. These were not the things he wanted his mate to feel, and now, with his human mind back in full control, he was all too aware how much he'd botched things back at the burning apartment building.

  Except he had no idea how to fix it. Perhaps showering her with gifts would help? A jacket was certainly not going to do. His mate was standing barefoot and cold. This was all wrong.

  "Come inside." He reached out, suddenly tentative, and placed a hand at the small of her back. She didn't pull away; instead, it seemed that she leaned into his touch, though her face was still baffled and upset.

  He gently turned her and guided her toward the house. Touching her in human form thrilled him in a way that touching her as a dragon had not.

  He could explain, he was sure. He could make up for having upset her. When she understood what was happening—that she had a mate who was a powerful dragon clanlord, who could buy her anything she wanted—she would be thrilled, he was sure.

  And then he'd go find Rodan Sharpe and kill him personally for threatening his mate. He could bring Sharpe's head to lay as a gift at her feet to delight her.

  Chapter Four: Loretta

  Maybe I hit my head. That's it, I must have tried to jump out the window, and now I'm dreaming while the paramedics try to resuscitate me ...

  Loretta looked cautiously up at the man beside her—and she did have to look up. At 5'10", she was used to looking most men in the eye, and looking down at the tops of most women's heads. But this man wasn't just a little taller than her, but a lot taller.

  And he was breathtaking. There were wide, well-built shoulders under that suit, which she could see better now that his jacket, still warm from his body, was wrapped around her like a hug. His face might have been called beautiful if it wasn't so sharp-cut, with a stern mouth—she had yet to see him smile—and (as her mother used to say) a jaw that could chop firewood. His hair was black, with a silver wing at either temple swooping back from a high forehead. She genuinely couldn't tell how old he was. Probably about her age, she thought, but he could be anywhere from forty to an especially well-preserved sixty.

  Of course, if the guy could turn into a dragon, all bets were off ...

  Then, with a light hand in the small of her back, he started to shepherd her up the wide steps leading to the ornate double doors of the mansion, and she balked. "We're going in there?"

  "That's the usual thing to do with doors, yes." Was that a hint of humor sparkling in his gray eyes? He didn't try to push her forward, which was a small mercy.

  Loretta steeled herself. She was not going to fall for his charm. "Buddy, I'm wearing a towel."

  "And you look very fetching in it."

  Now he was making fun of her. He had to be. Though his tone was dead serious. "Yes, well, I don't think even my usual clothes are up to dress code for a place like this. Let alone a towel, even with your jacket on top of it. And I'm filthy." She brushed uselessly at the plaster dust that had now adhered itself to her damp-and-drying body like a coating of bread crumbs on a chicken breast.

  "I own this house," Darius said. "The dress code is whatever I say it is. Let me get you warm and clothed. Would you like that?"

  "I ... I guess so." She could save the demands to be taken home until she had some pants on, at least.

  And so far he'd been a perfect gentleman—well, aside from the whole "kidnapping" thing. But he really had saved her.

  She wondered if she even had a home to go back to. Everything she owned was in that apartment. Pictures of her mom and cousins, even her childhood doll. Without warning and against her will, sudden tears welled in her eyes.

  "Oh no." The utter dismay in Darius's voice made her look up at his face, blinking to clear the rainbow shimmers swirling around in her vision. "Oh no. Don't cry. What's making you cry? Does something hurt?"

  "My apartment caught on fire and I'm naked." She blinked fiercely and dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. What must he think of her at this point? Her hair was a snarl of drying shampoo suds, she was wearing a towel and reeked of smoke, and he'd probably gotten an opportunity on the flight to see every stretch mark and mole and sagging section of her admittedly not-so-firm body. No wonder he was
being a gentleman. If dragons were in the habit of picking up distressed damsels, this one must be regretting that instead of a damsel, he'd gotten himself a forty-four-year-old spinster. Which just made her want to cry more. She wanted this suave, elegant man to see her at her best, not as a sobbing, partially smoked wreck.

  "You'd cry too," she forced out past the lump in her throat. "If you were in my place."

  "I dare say I would." His voice was gentle, and when his hand settled on her shoulder, it was very cautious, even tentative; he handled her as if she was fragile and precious. "Perhaps we could go in a side door, rather than going in the main entrance? It's not as, er, impressive. I wanted you very much to see—But that doesn't matter. Would you prefer the side door?"

  "Yes, please." She wiped her eyes again, and suddenly found that he was pressing a—Good Lord, an actual monogrammed silk handkerchief into her hands. It was too nice to blow her nose on. She settled for dabbing at her eyes, using one hand so as not to drop her towel.

  Darius led her down a pretty little path winding around the front of the house. Under other circumstances, she would have been admiring the masses of flowers along the path, but right now all she could think about was how sharp the pretty white gravel felt under her bare feet.

  "Do your feet hurt?" Darius asked. "I can carry you."

  He appeared to be moving in to do exactly that. "No!" she yelped, taking a step backward, her foot sliding onto the cool, damp grass of the lawn. "No, no carrying, absolutely no carrying. Where's the door?"

  "Just ahead of us."

  To her vast relief, it was a perfectly ordinary door that he led her to, and it opened in a fairly ordinary-looking hallway. She could hear clattering and smell cooking smells, so they must be off the kitchen.

  "This way," Darius said quietly. They went up a flight of stairs. He paused on the landing, and suddenly, breathtakingly, he smiled. She wasn't prepared for it. It was just a quick flicker of his lips, but it was filled with humor and warmth, and a certain conspiratorial quality, as if she was being taken into his confidence. It changed his whole face from stone to living flesh. He'd been gorgeous before, in an unapproachable calendar-model kind of way, but that smile made her melt.

  It took her a minute to pull herself together enough to realize that he'd asked her a question. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

  "I said, do you want to see something that most people don't know about? Come on."

  The warm, intimate smile flickered again, and he reached behind a portrait hanging on the wall. There was a tiny click, and suddenly a section of the wall pivoted inward, revealing darkness.

  Loretta took a quick step back. Cool air gusted out, smelling slightly musty. "Is that a real hidden passageway?"

  "It is. It goes to the guest suites. If you would prefer not to be seen, it'll get us there in privacy." He beckoned. "Come on."

  The sense of unreality was even stronger. She stepped inside and gasped softly as he closed it again, plunging them into blackness.

  "Sorry, I should have warned you." A dim light came on, revealing Darius standing with his hand on an ordinary light switch on the wall. They were standing on a stairway that mirrored the one outside, except it was much narrower, just wide enough for one person.

  "If you want to get out," Darius said, "the switch is here."

  It was a panel recessed into the wall. He let her tap it, causing the wall to pivot open, and then pushed it gently back into place.

  "Come on. Let's get you to a place where you can change. It's cooler back here; you must be cold."

  It was like being in a book, she thought, following him single file up the stairs. Like one of those books she read as a child, about children having adventures in big houses with secret passages. And she wasn't the least bit afraid—not of him, anyway.

  "Do you have a favorite color?" Darius asked.

  It was such a total non sequitur that she could only blink at him for a moment. "Uh ... yellow?"

  "Yellow. Let's go to the Daffodil Room, then."

  They were in a level passage now, with a high enough ceiling that she didn't feel claustrophobic, although it was narrow. Darius murmured something under his breath; she caught just enough of it to realize he was counting steps. Then he paused and touched the wall.

  A narrow panel slid open onto blinding sunshine. Yellow, cream, white—it was like stepping into a meadow. Her whole apartment would have fit in this enormous bedroom. The bed was huge—king-sized at least, with a yellow-flowered bedspread. All the furniture looked antique. She didn't even want to put her dirty feet on the cream-colored carpet.

  "You can open it from inside the room like this." Darius lifted a painting of daisies and showed her another hidden panel recessed into the wall. "And if you'd like to lock it so no one can enter the bedroom this way, just throw this little toggle ... here. See?"

  "I see." She had a feeling she was never going to remember; she was too busy staring around at everything. This was the biggest and grandest room she'd ever seen. And this entire mansion must be full of rooms like this.

  How loaded was this guy, exactly?

  "You'll find towels and other items in the bathroom. I'm going to obtain clothing for you."

  "Wait—wait!" He was starting to go, leaving her all alone in this enormous bedroom, with no idea what time it was, or how long it had been since he snatched her off her balcony. "I have to go to work. I can't be late. I'm going to be late!"

  "Where do you work?"

  "Happy Rainbows Day Care." She ran her fingers through her hair, and winced at the stringy stiffness of the shampoo. Flying through the air had done her absolutely no favors whatsoever. "It's on West Maple, and—why am I telling you this? I'm supposed to be there at eight. I don't know if I can get there on time now, even flying!"

  "Oh, that's no problem at all. I'll have my people take care of it." With that, he whipped a small, sleek phone out of his pocket.

  "Your ... people?"

  "Marlene? I have a job for you." He paused and covered the phone with his hand. "What's your name?"

  Oh. Oops. She'd never actually told him. "Loretta Somers."

  "Right. Got it." Another flash of that beautiful smile. "That's a lovely name, by the way."

  "Yes, my mother apparently thought so. Look, you can't just—are you listening to me?"

  He was back on the phone, and Loretta's objections wound down. There was something riveting about watching him like this, smooth and in control and completely in his element, giving brisk, efficient directions to the person on the other end of the line.

  "There," he said, tucking it away. "One of my employees will fill in for you. No problem at all."

  Loretta blinked. He was just so matter-of-fact about it, as if being able to snap your fingers and have people jump to your command was perfectly normal. "Does your, uh, employee have experience with small children?"

  "I have no idea, but she's quite efficient and good at handling problems." He made a brief, dismissive gesture. "She can delegate."

  "So, what, I'm just supposed to take a shower here while your employee does my job for me?"

  "Yes," Darius said. "Trust me."

  This was so laughable that she did actually laugh. "I'm supposed to trust the guy who kidnapped me?"

  Yes, whispered a secret corner of her heart.

  "Rescued. Not kidnapped. You aren't a prisoner, Loretta." His face was sincere, the gray eyes fixed on hers.

  "Oh really? If I'm not a prisoner—" She freed a hand from the towel and held it out, palm up. "Give me your phone."

  There was only the briefest moment of hesitation before he handed it over. She hadn't expected it to be that easy. She thumbed the screen to wake it up. The lockscreen hadn't relocked yet. All his icons were there.

  She could call 911. Call her mom. Call the day care.

  Heck, she could look through his photos and internet history if she wanted to. She hesitated with her thumb over the phone button.

  "Can I keep thi
s with me?" she asked—challenged, rather.

  "Yes," Darius said simply. "The unlock code is 1988. You may keep it as long as you need. Everything that I have is now yours."

  She blinked at him.

  "... too much," Darius murmured to himself. "Coming on too strong. Again. Curse it."

  Loretta tried to fold her arms, but was hampered by the effort of not letting her towel slip. "I think you need to tell me what's going on, right now. What is the deal with you? I mean besides ... being a dragon ..." She shook her head, still unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth.

  "That's basically it," Darius said. "Inasmuch as there is a 'deal.'"

  "No—I mean—why me? I get that you rescued me from a burning building, which I appreciate, trust me, but what is all this 'your devoted servant forever' stuff?"

  "I didn't say—" he began stiffly.

  "I know what you said. Come on, just tell me what's going on. Is this some kind of crush from afar thing? Have you been stalking me?"

  "No!" His shock appeared genuine. "You are—no. You are far above such trivialities. This is no mere crush. You are my one and only, the other half of my heart."

  "Mmm ... kay, not really convincing me about the stalker thing—"

  "You are my mate," he said in a rush. "I knew the moment I saw you. You are for me; I am for you. We are meant to be together forever."

  Loretta stared at him. He seemed to be serious.

  "As in, together relationship-wise?"

  "Of course." He said it as if it was too obvious to need explaining.

  C'mon, wheedled a part of her mind. He's hot, he's loaded ...

  ... he's a complete STRANGER!

  And yet, in some way, it felt like she'd known him her entire life. She fought to retain her grip on her common sense and what was left of her life.

  "What if I say no?"

  ".... no?"

  "No." She fought against her burning desire for the obviously well-built body lurking under that suit. "No, I appreciate the offer, it's very tempting, but I'm not just going to jump into a relationship with someone I don't even know. Even if you did save me from a burning building."