Dragon Fever: A Dark Kings Novella (3 page)

He’d barely taken two drinks before there was a knock on his door. Asher answered it to find a petite woman in a burgundy business suit that hid any curves she might have. Despite her young age, she wore a severe expression that brought him up short.

Her lips flattened as she gazed at him behind wire-rimmed glasses. He tried to see the color of her eyes, but the reflection on her glasses prevented it. Black hair was pulled away from her face in a tight bun so he had no idea how long—or short—her hair was. With a black planner clutched against her chest, she pushed her way inside.

“I’m Ms. Engel, your assistant.”

He watched her small frame march into the room. “I didna hire an assistant.”

“Mr. Constantine did.” She stopped in the middle of the living room and turned to him. “Every year for the past five, I’ve acted as Mr. Constantine’s assistant. You’re going to need my help.”

Asher let the door close as he looked askance at the little drill sergeant. The last thing he wanted was someone dogging his steps while he was in Paris. It was bad enough he couldn’t drive himself or open his own damn doors. Now this?

“What’s your full name?” he asked. He was going to have to make the most of the situation.

“You can call me Ms. Engel.”

He stopped before her. “I could, aye. But I asked for your name.”

After several tense seconds where she debated on whether to tell him, she said, “Blossom Engel.”

At first he thought she was joking. Then he realized that wasn’t a possibility since Ms. Engel had probably never laughed a day in her life.

Blossom. Her name was Blossom. It was everything he could do not to even crack a smile. He wasn’t hiding it well by the way her eyes narrowed at him.

“Well, Ms. Engel, where shall we start?” he asked, trying to see the color of her eyes again, but failing––again.

With a quick intake of breath, she flipped open the planner. “Tomorrow morning at seven your breakfast will be delivered to the room. As soon as you tell me your preferences, I’ll notify the kitchen. At eight thirty, you have a meeting with a Mr. Hodges.”

Asher sank onto the leather ottoman and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as Blossom rattled on. There wasn’t five minutes throughout the next day for him to have a thought to himself.

How the hell was he going to get through it all?

Chapter Two

Rachel stared at her computer screen, comparing the drawing she’d uploaded of the Dragon King to the man who strolled through the George V as if he owned it. Everyone rushed to do Asher’s bidding without him even uttering a single word.

Just one more reason to hate the Dragon Kings.

Wasn’t it bad enough that they were liars? Wasn’t it enough that they set out to fool the world? The company would fall, along with every member of Dreagan. And she was the one who would do it.

She took in the tall form and the expensive dark blue custom-made suit, the cut emphasizing his wide shoulders and trim form. Asher walked with purpose, but softly, as if he were conscious of his feet striking the ground. His arms swung freely by his sides, but she saw no watch on either wrist. Those around him had to look up because he towered over them.

When her gaze finally reached his face, she took in the thick ebony hair cut short on the sides, but the top left longer. She was too far away to see the color of his eyes, but his gaze swept the lobby thrice while listening to a woman welcoming him.

Rachel knew the definition of beautiful. She recognized Asher’s broad jaw that narrowed to his chin was considered handsome. Dark stubble highlighted his jaw and cheeks, giving him an air of daring sophistication.

Women of all ages at the hotel stopped and stared, the desire evident in the way they panted after him. She could acknowledge his good looks, but she never understood someone’s ability to forget themselves while gawking at another.

Once he disappeared in the elevator, she returned to looking over the notes uploaded to the computer. As with anyone who came to WWC from Dreagan, last names were never used, so no one thought it odd.

There was a lot of
Mr. Asher this
, or
Mr. Asher that
being bandied around the lobby. Everyone at the hotel wanted to ensure he had the best experience possible. As if he would have any other kind staying in the penthouse.

She wished the file on him was larger. In fact, there wasn’t much to go on other than the basics.

Name: Asher

King of: Hunter Greens

Tattoo: Left arm

Notes: Likes to be in charge. Rarely leaves Dreagan.

Everything else she would have to learn on her own. She expected him to show attention to at least one of the numerous pretty French women in the hotel, but it was like he didn’t even see them.

She was going to have to rethink how she approached him. The alternate persona she created for her work as a journalist wasn’t far from the real her. There would be a few slight changes, like colored contacts.

Fading into the background was her specialty. He would never know the times she followed him. With a little creativity, she was going to capture what no one else had. That leaked video would be nothing to what she would tell the world.

It infuriated her that Sam wouldn’t tell her who had taken the video showing the Kings shifting, but he did confirm it was real.

That’s what sold her on discovering more of the truth. It was time the world knew the facts about the men of Dreagan. Every human being on the planet deserved to know what kind of monsters walked among them.

Monsters who could shift, fly, and destroy by breathing fire.

Their wealth, business, and land had been obtained by secrets and lies. Every record she found had the minimum information on it. And many of those records had missing pages. So tracing the Dragon Kings was difficult. After two years of hard work, she was about to thwart whatever hidden agenda they had.

It helped that so much attention was already focused on Dreagan. More of that interest had followed Asher to Paris. All she had to do was wait for the perfect opportunity. Patience was something she’d acquired long ago, so she didn’t mind waiting.

She closed her laptop and rose, making her way to the elevator. She was on the seventh floor, just one below the penthouse. On the ride up, she thought about the outfit she’d originally chosen for her first meeting with Asher. She decided the cream dress with the navy heels would work much better for a first impression.

Though Asher had been cordial and polite, he gave the appearance of wanting to be alone. She would have to gain his attention without blatantly doing so.

The elevator dinged as it reached her floor. She looked both ways as she exited before turning and walking to her door. After she entered her room, she strode past the living area to the bedroom.

It wasn’t that she liked what she was able to do by applying a certain makeup method or acting a specific way, but it gave her ways into places and near people that other journalists couldn’t.

Just last year she exposed the ugly truth about a water treatment plant in Oregon by getting close to the man in charge. In less than a month, he spilled all his secrets without her ever having to even take off her clothes.

Which is where she drew the line. She’d honed her interview skills as well as reading books on profiling and learning to read people’s body language. If she couldn’t get her information by questioning an individual, then she wasn’t doing her job.

Some journalists did whatever it took for a story. Not Rachel. Then again, she found it difficult to even think about having sex with someone when she never felt any sort of passion. It didn’t matter––man or woman––she was somehow lacking in that department.

As a teenager, it had terrified her. In her twenties, she thought she wasn’t with the right men, so kept making changes. It wasn’t until her thirties that she realized she was wired differently.

It wasn’t that her body didn’t have needs. It was that there wasn’t a single person she’d run across in all her travels that made her heart race. She hadn’t been consumed with lust.

With her…peculiarity…it allowed her to focus more on her work of exposing lies, corruption, or evil people to the world. It ensured she nearly always worked alone.

There was no making friends, because it was an inevitability that someone close to her would be affected by whatever she discovered and wrote about.

Her colleagues used to ask if she was lonely. What they didn’t understand was that she preferred her solitude. She wanted to be on the outside looking in. There she saw the veracity of people and the world. The lies were harder to hide.

She opened her closet and pulled out the clothes, shoes, and clutch for the night. Then she went to her jewelry case. She only chose a few standard pieces that could be worn with anything.

Rachel lifted the lid and touched the pearl necklace that had been passed down from her grandmother before looking at the pearl studs that once belonged to her mother. When she saw the locket peeking out from beneath a small box, she sighed.

Her hand shook when she grabbed it. She let her thumb stroke the ivory rose amid the onyx before she pressed the button on the side. The locket popped open. Slowly, she opened it. Then she sank onto the bed and stared at the pictures inside.

* * * *

For three hours from his position on the sofa, Asher listened to Blossom Engel going on about meetings, dinners, tastings, and other such sordid affairs he would have to attend at the World Whisky Consortium.

“How the fuck does Con do this every year?” he mumbled.

Ms. Engel continued without hearing him. He’d already gone through half a bottle of Scotch. Right now, he was ready to fling himself over the balcony if Blossom didn’t immediately vacate the premises.

“That’s enough,” he said over her.

She paused from her seat on the ottoman, lifting her brows as she gazed at him over the agenda book. “Sir? I don’t think that’s wise.”

“I need tonight to myself.”

“What you need is rest. The next few days are nonstop.”

He briefly closed his eyes. “I know.”

“I thi––”

“I think I’m going to strip out of these clothes and walk around naked,” he interrupted.

There was a bit of hesitation, as if she were deciding whether to stay or not. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat. “As you wish.”

He dropped his head in his hands. He couldn’t help but smile as he wondered what the unflappable Blossom Engel would do if he shifted into a dragon right then. Knowing her, she would continue on as if nothing had happened.

It was no wonder Con used her.

“The hours of three to five on Friday have me a bit concerned,” she said, a look of consternation crossing her brow. “I may need to shorten one meeting or move the other because of the overlap.”

“Whatever you think.” He got to his feet. “Ms. Engel, you’re a delight, but I really need some time to myself.”

“Just a few more minutes, sir.”

“You said that an hour ago. Now, Blossom, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Give me tonight.”

Whether it was because he’d used her given name or that he left her no choice, she softly closed the agenda and stood. “I’ll see you at eight thirty in the morning, sir,” she said before exiting.

Asher released a long sigh and sank onto the couch. The quiet was just what he wanted. Thirty minutes later, it was too quiet.

He looked out the window at the lights coming on all over Paris as night fell. The longer he stood staring at the darkening sky, the more he wanted to feel the wind gliding over his scales as he soared with the clouds.

Irritation against the Dragon Kings’ circumstances began to swirl. He realized how easy it was for other Kings to hold such hatred for the humans. After all, they had given up for their survival only to have the noose continue to tighten around them.

This was their planet. From the dawn of time dragons had roamed this world, ruling all. They could’ve easily killed the humans when they appeared, but they hadn’t. The Kings had made room for them.

And where had that gotten the Kings?

Where once they ruled freely, they now hid.

Where once there were millions of dragons, there was now only the remaining Dragon Kings.

Where once magic pulsed liberally over the world, it was now confined to a few distinct places.

Where once the Kings could shift from dragon to human at will, even that had been taken from them completely.

Where once the Kings were regarded with respect and honor, they were now being hunted by every government, secret society, news outlet, and individual who sought the truth.

The truth. He snorted loudly. They wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. It was why the Kings had gone to such lengths to keep the mortals in the dark.

He reached for the bottle of Dreagan whisky only to find it empty. Waiting for another bottle wasn’t an option. Instead, he grabbed his jacket as he walked from the room.

When he reached the lobby and exited the elevator, he saw a man immediately come toward him. Asher held up his hand to stop him, giving the man a quick smile as he walked past.

He made his way to the bar. Most of the tables were occupied, as were the stools along the bar, but it wasn’t so crowded that he felt he needed to leave. Though he’d never had a real issue with humans before, the current situation at Dreagan made the need for space a priority.

Then there was the fact he
ached
––deeply, voraciously––to shift. To hide who they truly were for extended periods was just…wrong.

Anger began to unfurl within him. But was that anger directed at the humans or the Dark Fae? Both were the cause of the Kings’ state of affairs. Except, the blame could be placed on them. The Kings had a chance to wipe out the humans and the Dark––and had done neither.

So the fault lay with them.

Which didn’t make him feel any better.

He’d just taken a stool when the bartender walked up. “Dreagan,” Asher said.