Dragon Shattered_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy Romance Read online

  Maisie chatted with the woman beside her, blissfully unaware of my approach. When she caught sight or scent or sound or whatever sign of me she happened to pick up, she rose from her chair.

  The wide smile slid from her pretty face as our eyes met.

  “We need to talk,” I said, as I passed by the desk without stopping.

  Maisie followed me to the elevator.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “You stay here and deal with him and the other interviewees when they arrive. Straight to my office after.”

  I mashed the button, but the door remained open. For a moment I considered ditching the elevator for the stairs. I dismissed that thought just as quickly. I was a grown-ass woman. I was the head of a massively successful corporation. I ran from no man.

  I stood a little straighter and watched the door close, leaving Maisie and Taylor Stonehall behind.

  When the door opened on the forty-seventh floor, I had my stride back.

  Although a few other offices were located on this story, the hall was empty, as was Maisie’s desk. I unlocked the frosted glass door, and stepped into my office.

  It was as much my home as was my penthouse at the top of the building.

  A thick, gray carpet lay in the center of the room, with a pad so soft that stepping on it was second best to touching my bare toes to a fluffy cloud. I dropped my heels by the door and went straight for the rug.

  There was a fireplace by the far side of the room, with a modern white sofa set in front of it. It was deceptively cozy. On nights I worked late, which was often, I’d curl up by the fire to read over the details of the latest job or puzzle over new maps for security plans.

  I had my own bathroom, and a heavy desk that I’d had crafted from walnut. It reminded me of the dining table Marc and I had used in the tiny furnished apartment we’d had when we first got married.

  The wall of windows overlooked the edge of the city, and more importantly, the forest. I could get lost in thought standing by the glass and imagining an evening spent soaring over the treetops. The leaves would change soon, mixing pine and juniper with golds and reds and every shade in between. And when I looked over those greens, I remembered Taylor’s eyes, as deep as the forest’s depths.

  It was more than his handsome face and dragon scent that had me off my game. But I couldn’t say why. There was just something about him. At least I knew that none of my other interviews could be so uncomfortable. The worst was over. I wouldn’t be disarmed again.

  I flipped the switch to start a fire, then grabbed the stack of papers from my desk and took a seat on the sofa to get started.

  Two guards were already at the Brightwater, dispatched first thing in the morning to be available when the first artifacts arrived. These artifacts weren’t something to fuck around with—security had to be tight. Relics from the Lotus War were in hot demand among the shifter elite, with two thefts from private collections last month alone. That was only accounting for those I’d heard about.

  The very idea of collecting things from the biggest shifter war in the last century made my skin crawl, but this was a job and I was trying not to judge.

  I had enough staff to continue an adequate rotation until the fourteenth. But for the night of the auction, I couldn’t supervise everything alone. Not with eight new hires, with twenty-three servers and members of the kitchen staff, with seventy-five guests and their private security, not to mention the staff of the Brightwater. Every person there would be interested in the half-billion-dollar collection from the Lotus War. I needed another set of eyes to make sure the auction ran smoothly—which meant I had to trust someone.

  Maisie’s desk phone rang just outside the door.

  After just one ring, the call cut out. Then my cell went off.

  I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered.

  “Ariana West,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.

  “Oh it is you. I was sooo worried that I was going to have to ruin the tech guy’s career. Call everyone and yelp him as a failure. But good news—he found you, just as he promised.”

  My number was supposed to be private. I didn’t have to ask who it was—Jacques Marquette Pelletier. A big part of me wished I hadn’t answered.

  “I assure you, Mr. Pelletier, my assistant is perfectly capable—”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “I’ll just call you directly from now on. It’s an emergency. You understand, I’m sure.”

  “Has there been an incident?” I stood up, ready to visit the estate in person.

  “Goodness, no,” he replied. “But it’s only a matter of time. Two guards simply won’t be enough. What if they pack burritos for lunch and they get food poisoning and have to use the bathroom at the same time? What if I’m under siege by more than two assailants at once? I’m sure your men are capable, and have iron stomachs and whatnot, but I just don’t think you’ve properly accounted for every possible scenario.”

  “I assure you—”

  “Triple, no, quadruple the guards!”

  I had to pull the phone from my ear as he raised his volume.

  “You understand the cost—”

  “Money is nothing. Nothing!”

  “I’ll send reinforcements, but you’re going to have to pay half of the projected total upfront to cover some of these—”

  “Make it so.”

  “Next time, leave a message with my assistant and she will call you back,” I said. “Good day, Mr. Pelletier.”

  I hung up the phone and considered grabbing a tall glass of something strong, time of day be damned, but instead, I grabbed the stack of papers and tried to focus on planning for the auction.

  The afternoon would be better. I’d send another round of security to the Brightwater, have Maisie hire another group of workers I’d approved, and I’d meet with whoever Maisie had scheduled as my next interview. The best part—they’d have to be just as qualified as Taylor Stonehall. Simple. I’d hire one of them and forget this morning had ever happened.

  Chapter Four

  Slade

  My motorbike rumbled beneath me as I gazed up at the Arrow. Enormous. This was the kind of place where I could leap off the roof as a human, shift in midair, and take flight in my dragon form.

  I couldn’t wait.

  The receptionist who’d called me—Maddie or Maisie or Melanie or something—told me there was parking around back. She’d tried to book me a flight from Illinois, but hell no. My bike would’ve been crushed at the thought of being left behind. And I made it a personal goal to never disappoint things of beauty, whether they were bikes or women.

  I drove my bike—a hodge-podge collection I’d pieced together from old Harleys—around the back, and found the parking garage. Grabbed my duffel from the stash box, found my way to the elevator, and jabbed the button for the lobby. Half a second later, I was facing a beautifully polished room.

  Far cry from my sad apartment building. This lobby was a palace. Modern, with metallic trim. Gold, silver, and bronze, or whatever the brownish color was called. Copper? Didn’t matter. A mouse of a woman sat at the desk. I walked up. Pretended my boots, my pants, my jacket weren’t out of place.

  It doesn’t matter where you come from, Mama had always said. Just that you act like you know where you’re going.

  Smartest woman I ever knew. It broke her heart when I joined the Army, but I was a poor dragon shifter. Mama was human, and my father disappeared before I was born. I knew he was out there somewhere, the way a soldier knows things. Knows trouble’s coming. Knows when he shouldn’t fall asleep, when he should think before firing.

  The woman at the desk smiled at me. “Slade Rouland?”

  “That’s me,” I said.

  She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder. “She’s gonna like you,” she said.

  Probably she didn’t intend me to hear that, but shifter senses are strong. “D’you think I’ll like her, too?” I asked.

  She pursed her lips like she w
as trying to hide a smile. “Depends. You look pretty strong.”

  “My mama taught me not to brag,” I said. “But…I am pretty strong.”

  She coughed like she was trying not to laugh. At this rate, I should skip the job in security and go straight to open mic night, maybe become a comedian.

  “I think the two of you will get along great,” she said.

  “That’s good.” I looked around. “Should I go to her office or something? This is for an interview, right?”

  “We’ll be putting you up on the forty-eighth floor, where you’ll share a suite with two other interviewees,” she said, suddenly all business. “Ms. West was delayed at the airport and she’ll see you as soon as she gets caught up. Or if you prefer, we can reschedule an appointment so you know what time you’ll interview.”

  “I got nowhere else to go,” I said. “I’m fine waiting around until she’s ready.”

  “Great. Here’s a keycard to your suite—door 4. It will also open up your individual bedroom, which is the one in the middle once you get inside the suite.”

  I reached out to take the keycard, then realized my hand was grimy from having to adjust the drive chain while I was on the road. I rubbed my palm on my pants to get the grease off. “Sorry about that,” I said. “Guess I need to clean up.”

  “There’s a fully equipped bathroom attached to your private bedroom,” she said with an understanding smile.

  Nice lady, I thought, taking the keycard and making my way back to the elevator.

  “Oh, and Mr. Rouland?” she called out.

  I turned around. “Yeah?”

  “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Maisie, and if you need anything, simply dial zero-zero-one on your suite phone.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “One more thing,” she said. “Good luck.”

  Good luck—I needed it. I’d come back from the human war in the Badinor desert, found a crappy apartment to unload my stuff, and promptly started looking for jobs. It was just me I had to care for, and I didn’t need a lot of money. But my dragon side needed to stay busy. Needed excitement. No place better to get that than a job in security or law enforcement. I didn’t know a single thing about Whitesong, though. As I stepped into the posh elevator, all mirrors and polish, I decided to do some internet research after my shower. Whatever Whitesong had to offer in the way of work, I hoped it involved things like chasing bad guys and smashing things.

  I found the door marked Four in some fancy script and tried out my keycard. The door unlocked immediately, so I stepped inside.

  My duffel fell to the floor. I’d thought the first floor was a palace, but this room was better. It was luxurious, but modest. The gray carpet was probably thicker than my mattress back home. The living room had a single couch, a TV, and a coffee table. Not much sitting room if three people were going to be sharing the space, but I’d made do in more crowded conditions.

  I picked up my duffel again and strode to the middle door. My keycard unlocked it and I stepped inside to see a generous king-sized bed and a second open door leading to a bathroom. I had to close my eyes during my shower otherwise I’d be gawking at everything in the palatial bathroom. Once I was clean, I got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and went back out to the living room area.

  No one else was around. Maybe they hadn’t arrived yet. I got as comfortable as possible on the tiny couch and pulled up the internet browser on my old phone.

  A few minutes later, I was grinning from ear to ear. Whitesong would be perfect for me. They took on good cases, donated to good causes, and generally sounded awesome. I’d applied to pretty much everything without looking at any details, but now that I’d investigated Whitesong, I knew it was the place for me.

  Not only that, but my search had pulled up a few images of the company owner. Ariana West was beautiful, and she looked really kind.

  A knock sounded on the door so I got up to answer it. A brown-haired man stood before me. Nearly as tall as I was, only slighter. Some kind of shifter—he had that wild, woodsy scent about him. Probably a dragon from the faint scent of char, but it was hard to tell, and it wasn’t my business. The guy wore a suit and a nametag. A chain of some kind glinted beneath the collar of his shirt. I wondered for a second if he was military or ex-military like me, but the chain didn’t look like the military issue that went with tags.

  “Hello, I’m Jonathan, in maintenance,” he said. “Maisie told me three of you would be sharing Suite Four, and I recalled there being only one small sofa inside.” He tried to peer past my shoulder.

  Rude of him to try to peek. But maybe helpful. “Yeah, that’s right. I was wondering where everyone would sit.”

  “I’ve two spare couches in a suite on floor forty-six that I can bring up.”

  “That’d be good,” I said.

  A walkie talkie squawked at his belt. “Jonathan, you’re needed on thirty-five right away,” a male voice said.

  He gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sir, this might take a while.”

  “I could grab the couch from forty-six,” I said. “Except I don’t have a key.”

  “The room’s open, but...actually,” he gave me an appraising glance, “you could probably carry it better than I could. Sure, have at it. Room ten.”

  “Room ten, floor forty-six,” I said. “Got it, thanks.”

  Jonathan took off down the hall at a jog, and I had to admire his work ethic. Whitesong seemed like the kind of place that inspired people to care about their jobs. Nodding in satisfaction, I headed off to retrieve my new couch.

  Yeah, my couch, I thought. For my new apartment. No, I wasn’t the kind of guy who cared a whole helluva lot for luxury, but now that I was in this place, I didn’t think I ever wanted to leave.

  I just hoped my new boss felt the same way about me staying.

  Chapter Five

  Taylor

  Ariana West had disappeared completely by the time I got inside the Arrow. I sighed and glanced around some more, even though I knew it was futile.

  A blond woman waved to me from the counter off to the side. “Hello, there. Mr. Stonehall?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Hi, I’m Maisie. I’m Mrs. West’s personal assistant, but I’m working down here today to greet the interviewees.”

  “Hi, Maisie. Call me Taylor, please.”

  She beamed. “So nice to meet you. We have a suite of rooms all set up for you and two other potential hires. Room Four, on floor forty-eight. Here’s your keycard. Your private room is the one on the left once you enter the common area.”

  “Thanks so much,” I said, taking the card from her.

  Her smile grew wider. “Now I know what had her panties all in a twist.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing,” she said, flattening her lips together. “I didn’t say a thing.”

  She definitely had, and from the mischievous grin she was fighting, I was pretty sure she’d intended for me to hear every word.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the elevator’s reflective doors. I wasn’t terrible looking, although I’d never thought myself especially handsome. Like most shifters, I had muscles—they were pretty much a survival requirement, and we got plenty of exercise in both our animal and human forms. The animal sides of us demanded movement.

  No sense in dwelling on what Maisie thought of Ms. West’s reaction to me. I stepped into the elevator to check out my temporary living quarters.

  The elevator stopped on forty-six and I waited while the doors opened. They parted to reveal a giant dude heaving a couch. He looked like a poster boy for protein shakes and workout equipment. The first thing that hit me, before the leg of the couch, was his scent. Clouds and fire—he, too, was a dragon shifter.

  “Hey, that couch isn’t going to fit in here,” I said.

  “The hell it won’t,” he grunted.

  “It’s probably too heavy for the elevator.”

  He ignored me and inched the couch toward the door
, holding the sliding doors back with one hand. The upholstery was harsh on the eyes. If I had to name the shade, I’d call it garbage green. And the stale scent of the thing told me the cushions were full of dust.

  “You know what, I think I’ll get out here,” I said, but it was too late.

  With a last grunt, he shoved the couch the rest of the way in, trapping me in place.

  “Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t sound that apologetic. And then he stepped in after it.

  Now we were really jammed in together.

  The giant man sent me a sly grin. “Do you like men?”

  “What? No,” I said. “I’m into women, sorry. Straight as an arrow.”

  “Me, too,” he said, “but this would make a good meet cute on one of my mama’s old romance flicks.”

  I couldn’t help my laugh. “Do you work here?”

  “Not yet, but I hope to,” he said. “I’m interviewing for the partner position.”

  I shook his hand. “Taylor Stonehall. I’m interviewing for the same one.”

  He gave me a look before taking my hand in a shake. “Slade Rouland. Why don’t I hate you on sight?”

  “No idea,” I said. Inside I was thinking that maybe, subconsciously, he could tell that I didn’t really want his job. But that couldn’t be it. How could he figure that one out from thirty seconds of conversation? “If you don’t work here—yet,” I said, “how come you’re dragging around a couch?”

  “Maintenance guy told me I could snag it for our living room.”

  “Reasonable enough,” I said.

  The elevator dinged for the forty-eighth floor, and the doors opened. Slade stepped out and tugged on the couch. I pushed it from my end, then had to dive back for my duffel before the doors closed again. I shoved the duffel out in front of me, and Hafiz’s book of poetry tumbled out of the unzipped pocket.

  “Hafiz?” Rouland asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Isn’t that love poetry or some shit?”

  “Yeah.” I stood up straight, waiting for the inevitable conclusions people drew.