Into The Dragon's World

by Brittany White

  Into The Dragon’s World

  A Paranormal Night Club Series

  Brittany White

  Copyright © 2020 by Brittany White

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or 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.

  Contents

  1. Brady

  2. Casey

  3. Casey

  4. Brady

  5. Casey

  6. Casey

  7. Brady

  8. Casey

  9. Casey

  10. Casey

  11. Brady

  12. Brady

  13. Casey

  14. Brady

  15. Brady

  16. Casey

  17. Casey

  18. Brady

  19. Casey

  20. Brady

  21. Casey

  22. Casey

  23. Brady

  24. Casey

  25. Casey

  26. Brady

  27. Casey

  28. Brady

  29. Casey

  30. Brady

  Epilogue

  Shifter Protection Agency

  1. Bear Next Door

  Also by Brittany White

  About the Author

  Exclusive Offer

  1

  Brady

  “No fighting! You guys know the rules in here.” Brady Markonian stepped between a cheetah shifter and a cougar shifter and got a claw swipe along his arm for his troubles. “Am I gonna have to throw both of you out?”

  The shifters quickly took on their human forms. The cheetah became a twenty-something woman with long dreadlocks and bad skin, and the cougar turned back into a forty-year-old woman who was trying way too hard. The irony was not lost on Brady.

  “Come on, ladies. Shake hands and make friends again.” Brady gestured at the bartender. “Luke! Couple of cosmos over here, please.”

  Once Brady was sure that the literal fur wouldn’t fly, he excused himself and jogged up the steps to his office. As owner and manager of the Paradigm nightclub, he felt like he was always putting out one kind of fire or another. Every once in a while, he fantasized about going home to his real world, where the skies were lavender and the trees were every color in the spectrum. He could relax and take on the princely duties his father had given him and live every day in supreme luxury in his dragon form.

  But then he remembered that one of the duties he had to perform was to find a mate, and he was in no hurry to do that. Running Paradigm might not be the job he would have chosen for himself, but someone had to be there to give the shifters sanctuary and protect the Arch. There were only a few places around the world that held a doorway to the shifters’ dimension, and the Markonian family was tasked with protecting the Manhattan Arch. Long ago, shifters had built a great cathedral over it, hiding it away from the eyes of men. In the early 20th century, the cathedral was turned into a speakeasy. Then it became a dinner club. Then a lounge. Then a disco. And now, finally, it was one of New York’s most infamous underground nightclubs, catering to a very elite crowd of shifters. Humans weren’t exactly barred, but they weren’t particularly welcome, either.

  That suited Brady just fine. In his experience, humans were wretched, weak creatures who ruined everything they touched. It wasn’t that he hated humans. He simply didn’t like them. He spent all of his time at the nightclub, surrounded by shifters like himself, every day grateful for the oasis. He knew he wasn’t the only one who needed the escape. Shifters weren’t ostracized by society, but they tended to keep their abilities to themselves. It was as if the shifters and humans had made a silent deal: you don’t acknowledge us, we won’t acknowledge you, and everything will be okay.

  There was only one problem with that: shifters were not allowed to live their full lives. To live in the human world, they had to suppress their true beings. They didn’t have the freedom to shift into their other selves. They were the ones who had to sacrifice and make all the concessions. That was why the Arch was so important. It gave them a link to their real home and a way to escape the realities of this dimension.

  Brady had come to this world with the sole purpose of getting away from his family. He loved them, but the whole “royalty” thing just didn’t agree with him. His sister Alix loved it, of course. She played the role of spoiled, pouty princess to perfection. As much as he occasionally missed his home, he knew he truly belonged in New York. As a dragon shifter, he could take advantage of the skyscrapers and launch himself into the night, too high for the people on the street to see. He could live comfortably between the two worlds, which was more than some shifters could say.

  A gorgeous redhead in a short black dress smiled at him as he began to climb the steps leading up to the second-floor balcony, where his office overlooked the club floor. He flashed a quick smile back at her. He’d meant it to be polite, but she decided to run with it.

  “Hi,” she said in a husky voice. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

  It was a lie, but she didn’t know that Brady was completely aware of who she was. Her name was Lydia, and she was a fox shifter notorious for her ravenous appetite for anything that breathed. She had been a regular at the club for years. If she didn’t recognize Brady, it was probably because she was too drunk.

  “Hi, Lydia,” he said, climbing past her on the stairs. “Have a good night.”

  He passed her by without waiting for a response. Lydia was a nice person, and he had no doubt that if he had been in the mood for some no-strings attached fun, she would have been a good candidate for a partner. But…

  But he couldn’t bring himself to go back to the way he’d been before Savannah, when he could bed a different woman every night and not think twice about it. Savannah had demanded monogamy, and he had wanted her enough to try it. After a while, he’d discovered that he could be happy with one woman, that all other women paled in comparison to her. Now that Savannah was gone, he had no interest, sexual or otherwise, in anyone he met.

  Brady watched the club floor below and couldn’t help but smile. Shifters were transforming in and out of their human forms, which made dancing interesting. Most of them had decided to remain human in order to drink and troll for partners. The club wasn’t intended to be a pick-up bar, but more power to them, Brady thought. Just because he didn’t want to love again didn’t mean the whole world had to mourn.

  Brady poured himself a few fingers of whiskey and held his glass out in a toast. “Cheers to all you horny bastards,” he said and laughed.

  He took a sip and scanned the nightclub floor. Apart from a few scuffles, it was turning out to be a nice, quiet night. Maybe he’d even be able to take off a little early. Luke could handle any trouble that might pop up. The thought of going home and maybe stretching his wings for a quick flight sounded perfect.

  Besides...it wasn’t like anything exciting was going to happen.

  2

  Casey

  “Jazzy, it’s getting worse.” Casey Donahue made the subway door just before it closed. Thankfully, the car was mostly empty. Her cell phone buzzed in Casey’s ear. Yet another text. “I’m afraid to go home tonight. He’s been following me everywhere.” She hesitated a moment. “He’s a shifter.”

  “God damn him,” Jasmine breathed. Casey could tell that she was furious. “Come to the club. There’s a lot of people around. I don’t think he’ll show up here. He better not show his ass here.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m on my way. Thanks, Jazz.”

  “Just get your butt here in one piece.”

  Casey ended th
e call and glanced at the screen. Five new messages from Evan. She opened the first message: You look so gorgeous in blue. I can’t wait to get that sweater off you.

  Ugh. She looked down at her ocean blue sweater. It had once been her favorite, but now it was ruined. The left arm had been torn to shreds when she’d ripped herself away from his grasp. He hadn’t done nearly the damage he was capable of doing, thank God.

  The irony of her having a stalker was rich. Casey kept her head down and her mouth shut. She didn’t ask for attention and didn’t receive it. She’d had exactly one serious boyfriend in her life and that had ended years ago. She didn’t go looking for male attention; in fact, she did everything she could to avoid it. Shapeless clothes. Little makeup. Everything about her screamed, “Do not trespass!”

  So, how did she end up with a stalker? What had she done wrong?

  Another text buzzed: Why aren’t you answering me, Casey? You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.

  Casey grimaced and looked out the subway window, trying to focus past her ghostly reflection. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Go find a cheerleader to harass.

  Another text: You just made me so angry, Casey. I’m sorry. I can’t control myself with you. You just drive me so crazy.

  Casey knew what was coming next. He was working himself up to obscenities. Now he’d start telling her exactly what he wanted to do to her in vivid detail.

  Another buzz: I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll beg me to stop. You know you want it. Stop fighting me.

  And there it was: the first F-bomb of the evening. A tenured English professor should be more poetic in his threats, Casey thought as she turned off her phone. She didn’t need to see the rest of the messages. They all involved some combination of sexual threats and images that made her stomach churn. The idea of Evan Wallace even touching her shoulder was repugnant.

  I shouldn’t have been so nice to him, Casey chided herself. All the other women on campus kept him at arm’s length, but not me. Oh, no. Not Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, who was taught to be nice to everybody. She’d seen the way most people avoided him and felt sorry for him. If she had known that a cup of coffee and a smile would have landed her in this mess, she would have run the other way screaming.

  The worst part was that nobody believed her. The campus wanted to keep everything hush-hush because he was one of their most valued professors (translation: he had friends with deep pockets who donated generously). She couldn’t go to the police because nothing had technically happened yet. Just because she was creeped out beyond belief didn’t mean that what he was doing was a crime.

  Everything in her wanted to confront him, to cut him down with words and make him feel like the piece of shit he was. She’d almost done just that earlier in the day. He’d followed her around campus and finally surprised her while she was in the part of the library called the “Tomb.” Located in the sub-basement of the library, it was claustrophobic and dimly lit, with low ceilings and the constant scent of decay and mold. Casey had always half-suspected that Stephen King had designed the place.

  She was searching for a few journals for her upcoming thesis when Evan came up from behind her. She could hear him sniffing her hair. Startled, she jumped away from him, trying to get some distance between them. “What are you doing?” she asked, more angry than afraid.

  “A little birdie told me you were down here,” he said and half-smiled. In any other universe, he would have been a decent-looking guy. He had dark eyes and hair, and his skin was a light olive tone that made him look perpetually tan. He should have had coeds fighting over him, honestly.

  But everybody seemed to have gotten the memo that Casey had missed. Stay away from the whack-job or else.

  “Well, I’m leaving.” She could find her journals another day. Just being so close to him in the darkened stacks made her skin crawl. “Have a nice—”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. “I want to talk to you.”

  Something in his eyes changed, a subtle shift that was almost bestial. His breathing grew harsher, sounding almost like a growl. Casey winced at his grip on her arm. “Let me go!”

  He laughed, and the sound was inhuman. The lower part of his face seemed to be stretching outward, creating a muzzle. His mouth was full of jagged, yellowed fangs.

  A shifter, she realized. And a bear shifter at that.

  Evan rose to his full height in bear form, towering over Casey. His head brushed the ceiling even as he leaned forward, snuffling her hair and throat with his cold, wet nose. His breath was hot and foul as he huffed into her ear. She could hear his thoughts in her mind. I will have you. Stop running.

  Casey ripped her arm free of his grip, shredding her sweater on the black claws erupting from his nails, and ran for the stairs. She was almost to the subway station when she realized he wasn’t following her. Once she’d caught her breath, she realized that she was more enraged than she was afraid. How dare that piece of shit think he could control her that way!

  I’ll be damned if I let him get to me, she thought as the subway slowed and she stood up. Not him. Not anybody.

  3

  Casey

  “Oh, my God!” Jasmine met Casey at the doors of Paradigm and wrapped her in a hug. “Are you okay? Do you want to go to the hospital?”

  “I’m fine,” Casey said. “Did you change your hair? It looks fantastic.”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes and shook her head. She had been Casey’s best friend for the last four years, ever since they’d met in an Advanced Calculus class. She was as sleek and elegant as Casey was awkward. When Jasmine confessed to her that she was actually a panther shifter, Casey hadn’t been surprised. Jazzy had the sleekness and grace of a big cat. She had been the first shifter Casey had ever known. Coming from a farming community in upstate New York, she hadn’t had much experience with that kind of diversity.

  “Sweetie,” Jasmine said, picking at the shreds of clothing to peek at the wounds beneath. “Forget about my hair. You’re bleeding.”

  “He did more damage to my sweater than me, the bastard.” Now that Jasmine had mentioned it, Casey felt the sting of shallow scratches on her upper arm. Rivulets of blood trickled down to her elbow. When she thought of the damage he could have done, her stomach lurched and suddenly she felt very dizzy.

  “What happened? What did that bastard do to you?”

  “He cornered me in the stacks at the library. Turned into a bear. Usual stalker stuff.” Casey leaned against Jasmine and held her arm as they walked up the stairs, away from the boisterous crowd and throbbing techno music. Maybe running to a nightclub full of shifters wasn’t the best idea after being attacked, but she didn’t want to be alone. “Where are we going?”

  “Boss’s office. It’s soundproof, so you won’t have all this noise driving you crazy.” At the top of the stairs, Jasmine gave Casey a tip-to-toe once-over. “Are you sure he didn’t do anything else to you?”

  Casey shook her head. “I think I would have noticed.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  The office was empty, so Jasmine searched for the first-aid kit while Casey took a seat on a seriously expensive leather couch. I bet I could sell this and pay for an entire semester of grad school, she thought as she leaned back onto the overstuffed cushions.

  “I knew this was going to happen,” Jasmine muttered to herself. “Damn fool’s been getting out of hand for a long time now.”

  “Am I a part of this conversation, or should I just let you keep going?” Casey managed a smile, but suddenly she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open. The adrenaline rush was over. “I just need to close my eyes for a second…”

  Two seconds later, she was dead to the world.

  Bags of sand were on her eyes. Casey groaned softly and fought to wake up. She really hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but it was like every ounce of energy in her body just—

  “Jasmine’s friend, I assume.”

  Casey rubbed at h
er eyes as she sat up on the couch. The man standing beside her looked like a freaking giant and he didn’t seem too pleased to see her. For a split-second, she felt like Goldilocks after the bears came home.

  “Hi. Yeah.” Casey blinked a few times. “Who are you?”

  “Brady Markonian. Jasmine’s boss.”

  That woke her up. “Oh, crap.”

  She finally woke up enough to actually look at him. Dear Lord, where did men like that come from? Her gaze took him in from top to bottom. Dark caramel-blond hair, shaggy and in need of a proper haircut. Amber eyes flecked with emerald, gorgeous but currently glaring at her. A wide mouth with plush lips that were turned down in a fierce frown. He had the build of an athlete, almost managing to disguise his muscular arms and legs in his tailored suit but not quite. And so help her, he smelled like a god: sandalwood, musk, and a hint of smoke.

  In the space of a heartbeat, she had a sudden vision of him hovering over her, inside her, his mouth roving over every inch of her body as her hands tangled in his hair and skimmed the width of his shoulders, down his broad back and…

  Casey blinked, just realizing that he was speaking to her. Oh, wow...what was that?

  “I’m sorry,” she managed. “Excuse me?”

  “I asked why a human is in a shifter club. It’s not really our policy to allow your type.” He folded his arms and leaned against his desk. “Why did Jasmine bring you here?”