The Dragon Finds Forever

She was just here to finish what she’d started. That was it. That was all. Because, if he ever found out who she really was…she shivered. Facing the wrath of a dragon wasn’t something she ever hoped to have to endure.

But if he refused her gentle suggestions to return to the arena…what then?

She would be forced to use her powers on him. Because there was no point in trying to outrun her father. She’d tried that when he’d failed to give her a coin again on her twenty-first birthday. She’d made it to Argentina. And then he’d summoned her back. She’d lasted a week before the pain in her head got to be too much.

That was what happened if she refused him. A headache of unimaginable proportions. It started as a dull throb around day two. By day three, it was a constant ache. By day four, it was splitting. On day five, a medically induced coma seemed like a reasonable idea.

On day seven, she’d been bent over with pain, unable to speak, unable to think, unable to see. She’d managed enough words to call the head of her father’s security team, Sean, and tell him where she was so he could send someone to pick her up and bring her home.

It wasn’t something she thought she could bear again. And she’d searched for years to find another way to break his hold on her. But every answer was the same.

The coin.

So if Van refused, she’d be left with no choice but to force him to comply or suffer the consequences of refusing her father.

She went back to her bag and finished unpacking as the sadness of that thought crept over her. She didn’t have much. Some casual clothes, plus some rehab-therapist-appropriate work clothes and a dress. All mix and match and enough for a week and a half. Longer than that and she might have to go shopping.

Her father could pick up the tab for those clothes. That idea cleared some of her blue mood.

In fact, he could pay for a few more things. Like some dinners in town. She’d tell Van it was part of his therapy and that the League was paying. He wouldn’t turn that down. And then she could be out in public with him. That would be more comfortable than being stuck in the house with him and his dog for ten days.

Although, she hoped it wouldn’t take that long.

She stared into her bag. There was something unfamiliar in the bottom. Something dark wrapped in the same tissue that her mother’s favorite boutique used.

Monalisa pulled the item out and unwrapped it. A sleek little black dress so unlike anything she would have picked out for herself, but not nearly as risqué as what her mother favored. It was somewhere in between. Her mother’s idea of a compromise.

Undoubtedly a very expensive compromise, knowing her mother’s taste and the boutique’s prices.

She’d return it to her mother when she got back to Vegas. It was silly, really. Where did her mother think she was going to wear a thing like that here?

The dress and the rest of her things went into what hanging space there was in the closet, but there were no empty drawers, so she couldn’t really unpack everything. Which was fine with her. Tucking her unmentionables next to Van’s boxers wasn’t a place she wanted to go.

She was a little unsettled that she’d even opened that drawer. The man liked colorful underwear. She wasn’t sure what to do with that, but it felt like information she shouldn’t have. But she hadn’t been snooping. He’d told her this was the guest room.

She should have guessed otherwise by the scent of smoke. It was all throughout the house—she’d picked it up as soon as she’d stepped foot inside. Of course, it was February and the smell of wood smoke was everywhere. It was just stronger in this space.

Because it was his. His space, his scent.

It wasn’t an unpleasant smell at all. It was sort of homey and comforting, even though it wasn’t a smell she was that familiar with. A lot of the fireplaces in Vegas were gas. At least, they were in her part of town.

The smoke, which she knew was a mark of him being a dragon shifter, was also a very manly scent. One she hoped she’d soon grow used to so that it would just disappear.

But for now, she’d have to deal with it. With that in mind, she headed downstairs to begin the charade she hoped would set her free.

Leaning on his crutch, Van stood in front of the refrigerator, door open. The grill was fired up. All that was left was the cooking. He stared at the platter of steaks he’d planned on having for dinner. Two for him. One for Grom.

Van would still have his, but Grom wouldn’t. Not tonight. Yes, he spoiled his dog. And anyone who thought that was a waste of steak could get scorched.

Grom sat at his side, whuffing and whimpering softly. His nails clicked on the tile as he shifted in place.

“Sorry, Grom.” Van took the platter out with one hand, slid it onto the island counter, then used his crutch to reach back and shut the door. “No steak for you tonight. This has to be for our visitor.”

Grom whuffed unhappily.

Van limped to the spices and got to work seasoning the steaks. Garlic, salt, pepper. “Don’t worry, pup. She won’t be here long.”

Three days, tops. That was how long he figured it would take to satisfy whatever requirements the League had for this rehabilitation business. Then the League would be happy, Lisa could keep her job, and the animal rescue would get a nice fat check as his thanks for bringing Grom into his life.

He smiled down at the dog, who seemed to understand that he wasn’t getting a steak for dinner. “I’ll make it up to you. You’ll see.”