Not His Dragon (4 page)

Chapter Six

Angie leaned face-first against the shop door and peered out the window at Eoin’s departing form.

He sauntered along the sidewalk like a creature who knew he could eat anyone who bothered him. With one swallow.

Whose cornflakes had she pissed in lately to deserve this tsunami-sized wave of misfortune? Sure, cleaning dragon scales could open a new branch to her services, but did she really want to deal with dragons, with their teeth and hair trigger tempers? Add in her pleasant disposition and she’d be dead by the end of the week. Tripling her fees was like hazard pay. She might as well offer dental care for great white sharks on her lists of services. If she’d wanted to place her life at risk, she’d have been a firefighter or a soldier. All she wanted was security, and Eoin was anything but.

A familiar, sunny-blond face blocked her view of Eoin and gave her a warm smile. “What are you looking at?” Ken, her next appointment, shouted through the door then looked over his shoulder.

She opened the entrance and pulled him inside.

“Was that who I think it was?” He pointed toward Eoin, his eyes wide.

“Yes.”

“You think he’d give me an autograph?”

“After he bites you and uses your blood as ink.” Did Eoin deserve that? No, he’d been rather polite for a dragon, she imagined, but anything that big and deadly deserved to be treated with caution. Something Ken didn’t know how to do.

“Really?” He took a step toward the exit.

She shook her head. Werewolves. “You have an appointment.” She gave him a playful swat on the shoulder.

“You’re in room three, Ken.” Beth had returned to her desk. “Go in and shift. Angie will be right there.” Her best friend must have heard Eoin leave, and probably their whole conversation. There was only so much
privacy
with werewolves in the building. Beth hugged herself, her face pale and drawn.

Ken’s gaze moved from Angie to Beth and back again as if trying to decide whether he wanted to be caught in the middle. He shook his head and departed for room three in the pregnant silence.

“Are you okay?” Beth scanned Angie from head to toe. Angie didn’t blame her for leaving when Eoin told her to. The omega didn’t have a drop of fighter’s blood in her veins.

“I’m fine.” Angie held out her arms and spun. “See, not a nibble.”

Beth’s frown grew deeper. “Except you agreed to go to his castle tonight.”

“What would you have me do? At least he’s offering me danger pay.” Angie grinned to take the sting out of her words. She didn’t want Beth fretting about Eoin all day and night.

Beth’s bottom lip quivered. “I don’t like this.” She hurried around the desk and into Angie’s waiting arms. “You should call Ryota. He won’t let you go alone.”

“Oh my God, Beth. Tell me you didn’t call him.”

She shook her head. “I was too afraid Eoin would hear me. We should call him now. I don’t like this dragon’s sudden interest in you.”

Angie pushed the omega away to look her in the eye. “He’s not asking me out on a date.” Beth’s worries were settling her own doubts about going to Eoin’s castle. This was just business. “He needs help and he’ll be a new paying customer.” Eoin hadn’t threatened her. As long as she kept her mouth shut everything would be fine.

“You shouldn’t go alone.”

Sighing, Angie mentally went through her short list of friends and only one seemed likely to calm Beth. “I’ll ask Ken.” He was part of Beth’s pack, and unbelievably, Ryota’s second.

Beth took a deep shaky breath. “Okay, that seems reasonable.”

The click of claws on the shop’s tiled floors drew their attention. Ken stood in the hallway in his glorious bipedal beast form. White-tipped grey fur covered his body as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Ask me what?” A claw tipped finger glinted in the dim morning light as he tapped it on his forearm.

Angie threw her hands up in the air. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you while I work on your back. I can already see my next appointment walking up the street.” So much for being on schedule. “Offer Mrs. Gambindini a muffin while she’s waiting,” she whispered to Beth.

Ken scratched his shoulder. “I’m ready.” His smile in beast form would have made the average human pee themselves. Sharp canines did not express reassurance.

She followed him into room three. “Lay on the table.”

“Sounds like your lover’s spat with Ryota is growing serious.” Ken lay prone so she could examine his fur. Everyone got a quick flea check prior to scratching. She couldn’t afford an infestation.

“We’re not lovers anymore. I broke up with him.”

“He agreed to that?” She wished he didn’t sound so surprised.

“I can’t believe you just said that. Doesn’t matter if he agrees or not.” Besides Beth, Ken was the closest thing to a friend she had in the city. They had met at a fundraiser for the state orphanage where she’d grown up. She’d been handing out lemonade and he’d been spiking his. He’d lived at the orphanage until the local pack adopted him. He’d introduced her to Ryota when she’d opened the shop.

“That’s how it works in the pack.”

She snorted. “Thank God, I’m not pack.” Something jumped in Ken’s fur and startled her. “Shit, don’t move.”

He went rigid. “Did you see something?” His voice rose to an unmanly octave. Oddly cute on such a big shifter.

She parted his fur and she inched her way across his hide. A flea jumped from amid her fingers. “Fucker.” She moved faster, chasing the parasite through the coarse strands of fur until she impaled it between her sharp nails. “Got it.” She held it under the werewolf’s nose. “You, Mister, have fleas.”

“When I change to human form, shouldn’t they go away?” He contorted his body as he tried to scratch his own back.

She shrugged. “You would think so, but I don’t know anything about magic. I do know this is your second appointment this week.” Bending over, she searched through her cabinet and pulled out a bottle. “Wash in your beast form with this. It should do the trick.”

He scanned the bottle. “What is it?”

“All natural flea bath made with tea tree oil.” She grinned as his lip curled. “Free of charge if you give me a ride up to the dragon’s castle tonight.”

“I would have given you the ride without the bribe.” He made as if to lie back on the table.

“Uh-uh. Out you go.”

“But you haven’t scratched my back yet.”

“You’re contagious and until you fix your flea problem, no service.”

With a snarling growl, he jumped to his feet.

She broke eye contact and stared at the floor. “It’s not personal, Ken. It’s shop policy. What if it gets out that there are fleas here? I’d lose business. I’m just starting to get out of the red.” No matter how friendly she was with a werewolf, she’d never be able to let her guard down enough to be herself.

Beth was the only one. She’d taught Angie the right body language to use to avoid confrontations. Angie wouldn’t be considered a threat if she made a plea to Ken’s business sense.

“Is the money good enough for you to consider opening a second shop across town?” Ken leaned against the edge of the table as if nothing had occurred. Pack life sucked, in Angie’s opinion. The roller coaster of emotions running through a werewolf was exhausting.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “No.”

He sniffed the bottle of flea shampoo and grimaced. “Smells like shit.”

“It’ll leave your fur conditioned and silky. The females will want to roll all over you.”

“If that’s true, you might need to open a second shop just to sell this stuff.” He chuckled. “I knew I shouldn’t have run with that pack of dogs. That’s probably where I caught the fleas.”

Angie raised her eyebrow. The word
dog
had many meanings among the werewolves, so she wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Running is part of my new exercise plan.” He patted his flat stomach. “But I hate to run alone and most of my pack mates are early birds, where I’m a night owl. There’s a pack of stray dogs roaming the alleys by my place.” He stared at the shampoo. “Maybe I should buy a few more bottles.”

“For the strays?”

He nodded. “Someone should watch out for them.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled out more bottles. “On the house.” She hated it when Ken strummed her heartstrings. He knew all her notes. As orphans, they’d both been considered strays of human kind.

He grinned. “Thanks, Ang.”

“You better not come back with fleas. Wash those dogs good.”

He set the bottles aside and started shifting.

She hurried from the room to give him privacy. Watching shifters change shape poured too much envy in her blood.

Beth sat at her desk, another muffin in hand. “Will Ken go with you?”

“Yes, Mother.” Angie nodded to her next customer. “Room two is ready if you’d like to go shift.”

Ken joined them and set the bottles on the desk. “Not one word about this to the pack, Beth.”

She smirked and pretended to zip her lips. “My lips are sealed.”

“Why exactly are we visiting the dragon?” He grabbed a muffin and wolfed it down in one bite. “You never told me your long story. Dragons are a bad idea.”

How did he manage to speak with his mouth so full and not choke?

“We were interrupted by your tenants.” Angie glanced at room two. She’d never get out in time to have dinner and a shower if she kept being stalled. “Beth can give you the details. We have to be there at seven, so don’t be late, okay? I don’t want Eoin greeting us with a bottle of ketchup in his hands.”

“Hey Ang,” Ken called.

She paused on her way to room two. “What?”

“The sink in room one is plugged up something fierce.”

She rubbed her temples. Every day something different broke.

“Do you want me to call the plumber?” Beth offered.

“No, I’ll look at it first.” Since opening the shop, she’d collected small amount of tools. She owned a pipe wrench. Maybe if she whacked the sink enough it would unplug.

Eoin pulled up to his home and parked his Harley in the detached garage. The urge to itch had almost made him pull to the side of the road. Only the thought of hidden paparazzi taking photos of him kept him on his bike. It was the longest trip ever. He jogged inside the castle.

Once across the threshold, he came to a halt in the grand foyer as a breeze blew in from behind and stirred the loose leaves across the floor. A pile had gathered in the far corner of the foyer across from the broken stained glass window. Eoin took a step inside, his gaze following the sunlight to the cobwebs decorating the ceiling and the chandelier. The candles in the chandelier had melted away long ago, leaving piles of wax on the dusty metal. He’d forgotten to fix the busted window. That was—what?—five years ago when his roar had shattered it? He couldn’t even remember what had upset him.

Crossing the foyer, he stopped at the entrance to the dining hall. Broken glass littered the floor. The remains of the charred table stood in the center of the room. He recalled how elegant his home had been not long ago when he’d first moved here. The local humans and supernaturals had wanted to meet with him. To ease their fears, he’d thrown a ball. Food and wine had flowed freely all night. That had only been a century ago.

Maybe he should hire a maid.

He rubbed his chin. The place had taken a beating over the last decade and had a whole retro-abandoned thing going on. The petite not-a-she-dragon might not return to finish treating his scale rot if she thought him poor. She would arrive later this evening and there were no second chances at making a first impression. He’d already failed, but his home didn’t have to. Maybe
he
could clean before Angie arrived? Scowling, he turned his back on the dining room. He couldn’t afford to alienate her. She held his health in her sharp-nailed hands.

She also possessed secrets. Shifter ancestry or not, her smell wouldn’t leave him. She was in every breath he took. He liked secrets. Either way, he needed to not frighten her away until the scale rot was taken care of and he figured out why she smelled of she-dragon. Both were equally important to him.

Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed his tattoo artist and oldest friend. The answering service picked up since it was still daylight. “Viktor, I need you to gather what information you can on the human who runs the back-scratching service off Newman Ave. I need it as soon as possible.” He cut off the call. The vampire ran a tattoo parlor but he also had a wide network of friends within the supernatural community. Viktor owed Eoin.

He stripped of his t-shirt and jeans, tossing them at the entrance before shifting to dragon form. The process wasn’t painful for him like for most shifters. Or maybe, with age came tolerance and he didn’t even register the discomfort anymore. Either way, the process didn’t take long. Black scales covered his skin as spikes rose from his spine. Sharp horns grew from his head and his glorious wings extended from his shoulder blades.