Dragons Do It Nerdier (Dragon Shifters Do It Book 2), page 13
“I like her. It’s enough for now.”
I’d said as much before, with other women. Kaylee seemed different with her shy demeanor and spicy writing. Her fiendish focus when writing, sprinkled with outright ogling of my ass and chest. Her close relationship with the father who’d betrayed her. Her conviction that velvet was a color, when clearly it wasn’t. The woman was a writer. She had to understand the basic definition of the word.
Kaylee was different—but she wasn’t my mate.
I might not be her perfect prince, but I’d make whatever it was that was happening between us last as long as I could.
Bain was shaking his head. “You pathetic bastard. She’s right there. Man up and take her.”
Since we hadn’t lived in a time of pillaging and kidnapping for a while now, I knew what he really meant was take the opportunity. And I was. I just didn’t have the same expectations as my happily mated best friend.
I’d thought briefly, after Bain had found his mate and another dragon out west found his, that there might be hope.
But then I’d been hexed, and my unrealistic hopes had deflated like the balloon of hot air they’d always been. My life wasn’t a happily ever after waiting to happen. It never had been. Why would now be any different? Especially now. I’d been fucking hexed. Whatever Mathilde said about the hex being a side effect of making me more suitable as Kaylee’s love interest, no way would magic alter me to better suit my true mate.
Since when did soul mates need to be changed to fit together? Clearly Kaylee’s Prince Charming would be human if anything Mathilde had told me about the hex was true.
The oven timer went off. I silenced it and pulled out the water-filled pan with the custard dishes. “These are for her, you pushy fucker.”
When he didn’t reply, I turned to find him grinning. “You haven’t given up.”
“I like her. Like I said, it’s enough for now.”
His grin disappeared. “You’re going to treat her like some casual fuck. Your future mate. I should kick your ass.”
I looked heavenward and thought about cool wind lifting my wings up. When I was fairly certain I wouldn’t try to maim my best friend, I said, “Yeah, Bain. I make fucking crème brûlée for all my casual lays.” Even saying the words in relation to Kaylee left a foul taste in my mouth. “There’s a lot of real estate between a hookup and a mate, buddy. For those of us less blessed by fate, we take what we can get.”
“You want to date her.” He said it like it was shocking. And wrong.
“She’s good enough to be my mate, but not my girlfriend?” I didn’t let on that the label felt wrong. He didn’t need any encouragement in his lunacy.
“Not what I’m thinking. At all.” He examined me, then turned his attention to the perfection of my custard. Then he shrugged. “You know what? I don’t have time for your bullshit. I need to get a workout in before I meet my mate for lunch.”
It wasn’t my imagination that he put some emphasis on the word mate. “You do that.” Asshole.
“Yeah. And you give me a call when you’ve removed your head from your ass. Oh, and say hello to Kaylee from Taylor—although I’m pretty sure they’ve been texting. Something about meeting up with the witch that was banging her ex-piece-of-shit fiancé.”
“He’s still alive?” I asked in a pseudo-innocent tone. I knew perfectly well that Taylor had threatened to castrate him if he fucked with her ex.
“Fuck off.” And with that pleasantry, he left.
Good thing. If he hadn’t, I’d have dragged his sorry ass to the door and shoved him out of my house. I needed to text Kaylee.
18
Kaylee
I’d decided to fess up to Dex.
To seeing the glowing dog, having the supposed demon mom, hiring the monster hunter PI. All the things.
I hadn’t talked to Mathilde yet, but if this run didn’t send me to crazytown, I planned to invite her over for lunch tomorrow and update her, as well.
They’d both been so supportive during my meltdown. I owed them an explanation for my whackadoo behavior over the last several days, even if it caused me stress to discuss it all.
I couldn’t hide every time someone mentioned their horoscope, or refuse to mingle with anyone who read tarot. There were things in this world no one could explain. I happened to believe that those currently unexplainable things would eventually be dissected and revealed to have scientific explanations. Not sure how that tied in with glowing dogs, demon mothers, and monster hunter PIs, but there was an explanation beyond everyone I knew was crazy.
But before I could get to the glowing dog or my suspect family tree, I had something else to deal with. Dex. In running tights.
I opened the door to find him kitted out for the cold front that had blown in this morning. Running tights, shorts, and a long-sleeved tech shirt. He looked… Damn. I’d agreed to go running even though I’d known it was cold and damp outside, because I needed to leave my house. And I wanted to see him. But I’d been quietly disappointed that I’d be missing out on ogling the hottest man I’d ever met in running shorts and a tight T-shirt.
I’d been way off base. This worked. This totally worked. Probably because Dex would look hot in anything. The man has the body of a god.
“Hey,” he said in an amused tone.
I looked up from his incredible legs encased in skintight running tights, paused to see if I could detect a bulge beneath the shorts he’d layered on top, then finally made my way to his gorgeous smile and his sexy moss-green eyes.
He was definitely laughing at my obvious gawking.
Before I could even think about being embarrassed, I realized we were missing an important component to this run: Chelsea. I’d planned to address my reaction to meeting her before we set out.
“Where’s your dog?”
He smiled big enough to flash straight white teeth. “Don’t give me your mean look. I deserve better after all those desserts I delivered.”
I hadn’t realized I was glaring, but it was important he understood I wasn’t afraid of his dog. He loved that dog. “And they were all amazing. Thank you so much. Now where’s the pooch?”
He stepped to the side, and I saw that Chelsea was sitting patiently on the sidewalk in front of my house.
“Wow. She’s really well trained.” And she still glowed. Dammit. I was hoping that issue would resolve itself.
But this time I was prepared. I was ignoring it, because it wasn’t there.
“I’ve had her a while,” Dex muttered, like he was hesitant to accept any kind of responsibility for her good behavior. “I thought I’d knock first and double-check you’re—”
“Stop. I’m not afraid of your dog.”
“Okay?” He looked about as convinced as he sounded.
“Come on.” I walked to the absolutely adorable fluffball in front of my house. We never had pets when I was growing up. Dad didn’t like the mess.
But I had no idea why I hadn’t gotten my own cat or dog. Hell, even a hamster. There was probably some hidden fear there that my therapist—the new one I’d be hiring!—would want to delve into. Really hidden, deep deep down, because I really liked animals.
“Oh my god. She’s smiling at me!” Chelsea was wearing a grin that was suspiciously similar to her owner’s.
When she heard my excited tone, she glanced at Dex, then stood up and trotted straight toward me. Minus the glow, she was a gorgeous girl. Except there wasn’t a glow, because that wasn’t real.
I knelt down and petted her. No one liked being loomed over, right? After I’d petted her pretty head, stroked her gorgeous coat, and rubbed her narrow chest, I figured we’d made friends. Her happy expression and wagging tail seemed to support that conclusion as well. I stood up to find an inscrutable expression on Dex’s face.
“I told you, I’m not scared of dogs.”
“I guess not.” His tone was neutral. There was no push for an explanation.
Damn, he was a good guy.
I took a deep breath. He’d already had a peek behind the curtain. I was just going to widen the crack a little. “She glowed.”
He glanced at his dog, then me. I couldn’t read his expression. But on the bright side, he didn’t look like I’d just announced aliens had landed.
I cleared my throat. “Glows, actually. It’s all around her. Obviously, she’s not really glowing, but to me, she looks like she is. It’s a…thing, I have. I guess, a medical condition.”
That elicited a frown, then closer study of his dog. He squinted, as if that was going to let him see what I saw. Please.
But then the weirdest thing happened. He smiled. Not just any old smile. Dex’s smiles are almost dangerous they’re so delicious, but this, this smile stole my breath. And then he laughed. It was deep and rolling. Warm.
He picked up his dog and swung her around like she weighed nothing. Finally, he said, “You hear that, Chels? You’re glowing, sweetheart.”
She didn’t look in the least offended to be swung around. Then again, when he’d finished, he cuddled her against his chest like a baby, so I guess there was compensation. Her canine nose tipped toward me and she had that same grin she’d worn earlier. Maybe it was just Malinois, with their long, narrow noses and pricked ears. Maybe they all sported that knowing grin. It was just built into their appearance, like basset hounds looked sad and pugs were ugly-cute.
Eventually, Dex set his dog on the ground, and she sighed. I understood where she was coming from. I’d rather be cuddled against Dex’s broad chest, too.
And then I was. He hugged me against all those glorious muscles, and then he swung me around, kind of like he had his dog. I should probably be offended, but I couldn’t be. His happiness was too contagious.
When he let me go, I kind of wobbled a second before I had my balance. It was disorienting, being snuggled against all that manliness then being set adrift. “Want to tell me what that’s all about?”
He grabbed his foot and pulled his heel back against that fine ass of his, stretching his quads. “I thought we were running?”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, but I have some other weird shit to tell you, and once we start moving, we’re not stopping for hugs.”
Total lie. I’d stop whatever I was doing—running, breathing air—for more of Dex’s hugs. But I doubted that whatever had prompted Dex’s weirdly positive response to my first disclosure would be repeated when I started talking demons and monster hunters.
“Do we have a plan?” I asked as we walked briskly down the road.
Chelsea was staying within two feet of Dex without a leash, though I noticed that Dex had one wrapped around his waist. It took a second for us to figure out who would be where. Obviously Chelsea was near the curb, but Dex seemed uncomfortable with me being roadside. I gave him a look and he shrugged, ceding to my superior common sense. Not like someone was going to clip me. We’d be on the sidewalk most of the time.
“Walk five minutes, jog five minutes, run—how long do you usually run on your treadmill?” When I shrugged, he said, “Okay, then we’ll run however long you want, then do a five-minute cool out. I’m just here for the awesome company, so whatever is good with me.”
The implication being that he could outrun me. To be fair, he probably could. I’d run cross country in high school, but I wasn’t more than a casual runner now. Just enough to stretch my legs, get my heart rate up, and keep me from crawling the walls when I wrote. Dex, on the other hand, was not only taller than me, he also looked like working out was his job.
It wasn’t. I’d discovered through our text conversations that he managed a few portfolios. It kind of sounded like he was a wealth management guy, the sort of financial advisor who handled just a few clients, but the kind who were fabulously wealthy. Not what I would have guessed, since I’d yet to see him in a suit or anything approaching business attire.
Maybe that was the influence of his military background. He’d been closed-lipped about it, so I suspected he had some difficult memories that he didn’t want to share. I totally got that, what with my own experiences that weren’t exactly shiny and shareable.
We walked mostly in silence, other than Dex answering vaguely that work was good when I asked. When we started to jog, he called me out. “You mentioned—and I quote—'some other weird shit’ that you wanted to tell me.”
This might actually work out okay. When you jogged with someone, you were both facing the same direction. Not having to stare into Dex’s handsome face as I uttered the boner-killer words “demon spawn” sounded like a great idea to me. “Yeah. So, I hired someone to find my mother.”
I wasn’t getting into my PI being a monster hunter. I figured I’d get through the demon part of the conversation first.
“Mathilde told me you’d gotten some news on that front. I can’t imagine growing up not knowing who one of my parents was. My mother and father were…difficult, but I was fortunate to have them in my life for as long as I did.”
He sounded a little bit like he was trying to convince himself of that. Maybe something to do with losing his brother and how that had impacted his family? But today wasn’t Pry Into Dex’s Past day. It was Peek Behind the Curtain of Kaylee’s Crazy day.
“Full disclosure, the PI I hired was Mathilde’s recommendation.” I tipped my head slightly so I could catch his reaction without full-on turning and staring.
He nodded, like that was no surprise. “Madeleine Van Helsing. An excellent choice. She’s expensive, but she’s discreet, thorough, and very good at what she does.”
I couldn’t argue any of those points, but his comment didn’t address the elephant trotting along beside us—and I didn’t mean Chelsea. She was light on her feet and not remotely elephant-like, unlike Maddie the Monster Hunter.
“Ah… Do you know what it is that she does? Exactly?”
Dex had these friends who believed in all this strange stuff, but he’d been silent about his own beliefs.
I didn’t really know what he thought about love witches and psychics, other than he wasn’t judging them in any obvious way and didn’t seem to be bothered by what they claimed they could do. He was friendly with Mathilde and Taylor, and he knew everything I knew about them.
“I believe the phrase you’re looking for is monster hunter.”
“Right.” Damn. I didn’t think he’d know that.
He didn’t explain how he knew about Maddie or what he knew of monster hunters. To be fair, I didn’t jump in and ask him.
He just asked, “What did Maddie find out?”
So I went with the flow, and said, “My mom’s name is Lizbet Jones.”
Did he just flinch? A teeny bit? Hard to say. We’d picked up the pace. It was a little chilly, so as soon as I felt like my muscles were warm, I’d pushed to a faster speed. That meant I wasn’t splitting my attention as well between the road and Dex. Old habits. I like to look straight ahead when I run.
“Did she say anything else?” There was something in his tone, a hint that he knew.
“Yeah, that my mom is a war demon and would probably be angry as hell that my dad hadn’t told her I’d ended up with some magic.” I pushed a little faster. It was that, or I’d be checking out Dex’s response to my insane statement.
I could already feel my face flushing bright red—and not from the workout or the cold—so I didn’t need anything to amplify my current state of acute embarrassment.
We jogged in silence for a few blocks.
Long enough for cool air to chill my cheeks back to a workout level of redness.
Eventually, Dex said, “I’ve got it, too.”
I snorted. “What, a war demon mother?”
It was sweet for him to play along, but really, there was a limit.
“No, magic.”
I slowed down and cast a glance his way. He looked serious.
“You believe it all. The love witch stuff, Taylor being psychic, demons.”
“Mathilde is a terrible witch, but sure, I believe she’s got magic. And Taylor’s a little psychic. The equivalent of decent intuition, so far as I can tell.”
Why did all of that sound so…normal coming from Dex?
Except he’d also said that he had magic, too.
“What sort of magic are you supposed to have?” Oh, shit. I hadn’t meant to say it like that.
Thankfully, he made an amused sound. Not quite a chuckle, but halfway there. Glad he found my disbelief diverting and not offensive. I really didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He was just so nice. And fit. He wasn’t even slightly out of breath.
“The broken kind.”
“You don’t sound too thrilled about that. Have you considered that maybe—” I paused as I considered how to ask a person if they’d considered whether maybe the magic they placed their faith in and failed them might possibly not be real?
Not sure there was a great way to ask that.
It didn’t matter. He knew where I was going. “It’s a recent problem. Trust me when I say I have years of evidence to prove I can do the kind of magic I do.”
I glanced at him.
“Do you really want to know?” he asked, once again practically reading my mind.
“I’m not really sure.”
“Let me know. I’m happy to tell you. Unfortunately, I can’t show you at the moment.”
“Because your magic is broken. How does that happen?” It seemed an odd sort of way to describe oneself. I indicated the turn up ahead. It would add a good two miles to our route. We weren’t pushing hard—I wasn’t; Dex wasn’t pushing at all—I’d just warmed up, and I was enjoying stretching my legs and spending time with Dex in a way that didn’t seem pressure-filled.
“It’s more a question of it being contained. Like someone’s wrapped it in cling film.”
I wanted to hug him. I wouldn’t like any part of me being wrapped in plastic. A big warm blanket was cozy. Cling film was claustrophobic—and sweaty. Since I was a writer and all, I decided to use my words. Whether I believed in his magical powers or not, he clearly did. “I’m really sorry that happened to you.”
