Chapter Two
Once everyone left, Cassandra picked up the carton Margaret had sent. Inside, still nestled, rested the egg. She placed her hand on it, relieved it still felt warm, like a loaf of bread out of the oven. This egg couldn’t have been laid that long ago.
“Fresh, indeed.” She put the lid back on the carton. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not about to let some big bad dragon have you for supper.” Or any other rich snob seeking immortality. She sighed and hefted the crate in her arms.
This one was a keeper. Or at least until she could get Jacques to help her swap it.
She’d missed him these past few weeks, assuming he’d gone into hiding with Margaret when their deal went sour. He owed her a latte. So much more fun to work with than brick-head Drake.
As she closed the egg vault, her wrist stung. She rubbed the spot, remembering how boldly Edmund St. George had scorched her flesh. His eyes gleamed when he’d looked at her, making Cassandra’s knees grow weak. She’d clutched the counter long after he’d gone.
No man, human or dragon, had ever looked at her with such intense hunger, desire, that melted her insides.
It was business. Just business.
Underneath that human guise, he was a dragon.
And she was a human. Not only a human, one of the chosen. She came from a family of Keepers.
Like Jacques and his playful banter when he stayed at the gallery, nothing more could come of such a relationship.
But Jacques had never looked at her the way Edmund St. George had.
With Jacques, it was two co-workers striving to attain similar goals. Friends.
Edmund St. George was anything but her friend.
She shivered, walking out of the gallery and locking the door behind her.
Her wrist still throbbed. She wouldn’t ever admit; his little display of fire had turned her on.
Or maybe that was his intention.
She’d dealt with dragons all the time. She had no choice in this kind of business. Never had one sparked any kind of interest in her like this.
Business. Strictly business.
Outside, the streetlights glowed against the haze of night befalling Seattle’s art district. She hadn’t intended to linger this long. Her arms prickled with goosebumps. Her heels clipped along the sidewalk until she reached the parking garage. Glass bulbs provided lights, and sounds of cars twisting their path out of the seven-story structure echoed around her.
Despite the warm humidity of summer’s heat in the city, Cassandra crossed her arms against a chill.
As she approached her car on the top level, she spotted Drake leaning against the driver’s side door. “You’re late.”
“I had business.” She walked up to him.
“What did the Roman rocker want?” Drake didn’t budge. He crossed his muscle bulging arms blocking her escape into her car.
“The same thing they all want. A deal.”
“What kind of deal?” Drake leaned forward. His hard ass probably pushing a dent into her door.
She closed her eyes against the nausea he caused, inhaling her as he often did. His cold stare, centered at her breasts.
“That’s for Margaret and I to discuss.”
In a flash, his hand grabbed her by the neck. He pulled her up on her toes. Her heart pounding in her chest. He ran his nose up and down her neck. “Remember who you’re talking to. You’re no better than the other bitches in my horde.”
“Too bad I don’t have an ounce of dragon blood in me to be of any use to you.” She curled her hands around his wrist and arm.
A slow, cunning smile spread across his pale lips. “If you wanted in on the action, all you had to do was ask.”
Cassandra stiffened. “You can’t touch me. What would Margaret think if she found out?”
Drake eased her down to her feet. Her relief came short lived as he pushed her against the car behind her, pining her between his arms. “Just because you can’t lay an egg, doesn’t mean you can’t spread your legs.”
“You disgust me. I’m not one of your paid escorts. Release me.” She shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge.
He snickered in response.
“I mean it, Drake. Back. Off!” She tried to duck under his arm.
He shoved his thigh in her way. “You think I’m stupid?”
“I think Margaret will have something to say about this.”
He leaned his face in close to her. “And what do you think dear ole Margaret will say when she finds out you’ve been making a few private deals of your own on the side?”
About to slam the herself against him to get him to move, Cassandra halted. She felt the blood drain from her face. “I have not.”
“Tsk. Tsk.” He pushed the full length of his body against her. He took her arm. Ran his large cold hand down over her elbow. She shivered uncontrollably. He continued to glide those ice-tipped fingers down her forearm to her wrist. He brought it his nose, his pupils turned to slits. He licked her wrist then said, “Then why did he mark you?”
“I-I don’t know.” She tried to tilt away from him. Found herself pushed down on the hood of the car. Drake leaned over her, pressing his male bulge against her belly.
“I think you do.” He grabbed her skirt, shoving it up. “You’ll give it to him, and now you’ll give it to me!”
Cassandra tried to kick against him. “No. Stop. I didn’t. I swear! Get off!!”
Drake chuckled. He held her down, one hand on her chest, the other shoving up her skirt. She struggled beneath him. She tried kicking him. When one of her attempts to sit up and slug him failed, he grabbed her by the arms. His body pressed rock hard against of her, on top the hood of a car. She felt the metal give into both their weight, indenting the car’s hood. She screamed.
“Go ahead. Scream for me. It’s you and me. Tell Margaret. She said I can have you when she’s done with you anyway.”
Drake reached back, unfastening his belt.
Suddenly, from behind her, she heard a feral growl. Drake toppled back as a figure leapt over her and shoved Drake to the ground.
Large wings sprung forth from the figure’s shoulders. Under the lamp light scales glint like polished bronze. Two curved, twisted, golden horns sprouted from its head. Cassandra scrambled falling off the car and hitting the cement on her back.
By the time she caught her breath and straightened her glasses, Drake had shifted into his blue cold snouted-self. Staying behind the car, she watched as the two dragons faced off. Drake flipped the bronze stranger and they rolled in a clash of claws and jaws. Bigger than a car, the bronze dragon lashed out with his tail, Cassandra screamed, running out of the way. Three cars slam into the garage barrier.
When the bronze dragon looked back at her with his platinum eyes, Drake rammed the other dragon, catching it off guard. Close in size, Drake clamped his jaws down on bronze wings, and the bronze dragon sliced his sharp claw against Drake’s snout.
It’s now or never. Cassandra made a dash back to her car.
Still in one piece, she punched her car lock code in on the door. Inside she looked up, the bronze dragon had Drake’s head hanging off the end of the parking garage. If that doesn’t attract attention she didn’t know what would. She pressed start on her car, the headlights came on.
As the bronze’s head jerked back, Drake whipped his tail up, but the bronze rolled out of his way and the blue dragon fell off the top of the garage. Cassandra didn’t wait, she hit the gas, only to find her path blocked by the bronze dragon. She turned on the headlights.
Sirens blared in the distance. Shit, how will she ever explain this one?
Platinum eyes stared at her, blinked. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel. What the hell?
She looked up and Edmund St. George stood in the beams of her head lights in all his naked Roman god glory.