Page 19 of Princess Seeks Dragon
Chapter Six: Graham
“When are you comingback?”
I blink at the warm, creamy yellow light that slides into the guestroom where I’m sprawled. I roll over and my wing flails drunkenly, falling over my face. I realize I didn’t even make it under the covers; I’ve just been lying on top of them all night—or a couple of hours.
What time is it, and whose annoying voice is grating in my ear?
“Hello?”
“Graham! When are you coming back to town?”
My brain is addled from last night’s excesses at Jax Alley, but the shady roadhouse has nothing on the bars in the CrossRealms. I played too much pool and drank too many whiskeys. There were no fights. No vampires trying to lure humans away. No succubi plying their trade in the parking lot.
I’m in halfling form, and I don’t know why. It’s unsettling, and it’s taking me forever to understand what the voice in my ear is asking or who it is. “Who is this?”
“This is Lawder.”
“Mr. Lawder, hi.” Mr. Lawder is my boss’ right hand man, a human who doesn’t know a damn thing about magic, even though it surrounds him.
“The new guy sucks. He got beat up on his first job, and the client legged it.”
“I’ll be back sometime in June. Sorry the new guy sucks. I don’t have any pointers for him.”Because he’s a human. I’m a dragon. Even in human form, I’m stronger. When things get bad, talons pop out, and switching forms is always an option.
I look at my arms, at the dark purple scales that are slowly returning to human skin. I never fall asleep in halfling form.
Because you’re not safe in the CrossRealms, ass. You hide who you are so that worse powers don’t find you.
“Well, the boss is pissed that you went without any warning, and he wants you to do him a favor, or he says you can’t come back on the payroll.”
I sit up with rage bursting in my chest. It's not wise to mess about with a hungover dragon at the best of times, but for some two-bit local crime lord incubus to threaten to take away my job when I've worked for him without complaint for months? No. Scales ripple as they burst through human skin and replace soft, smooth beige with a coating that runs from aubergine to lilac. My wings are no longer lazy sails but stand up proud and armored, living battle shields. I don't need to be threatened. I can't very well tell this puny human that an incubus has nothing on a dragon in terms of brute force, but it’s true.
Tell him to stick his threats where the sun don’t shine, that’s my first instinct.
And do what? Stay here and play the doting uncle?
Go home and admit you need help? Beg the clan elders to arrange a match for you?
I sigh. “What does he want me to do?” I ask.
“Nothing big. The boss has a friend, Joey Genovese, who is trying to get a little piece of the California market from the Argento family. You know them?”
“Nope.”
“Mafia, small time. Genovese’s son is supposed to marry the Argento girl, but she ran off, and it’s making Genovese look bad. In my opinion, it makes Argento look worse. What kind of man can’t control his daughter?”
My tail lashes. Dragon women would shred his hide for that remark. They’re never controlled. They act out of loyalty. Win a dragoness’ heart, and she’ll burn the world for you.
My cocks ache, both of them that I have in this form, both seeking the warm embrace of flesh on flesh, or the rough drag of scale on scale. Give me a woman who’s soft for me, but shows her tough skin and her claws to everyone else...
“What am I supposed to do about it?”
“Well, you know the boss has some friends inlowplaces. The girl left Manhattan yesterday afternoon, and old Argento says she’s run away. What’s more, he’s not helping hunt for her. All his soldiers are suits and fronts, pudgy old men with cigars and deli bellies, smoking in the back rooms and cooking the books.”
