AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Get dressed, love.” I tossed my mate his jeans and pulled the white shirt over my head. “Let’s go see our new home.”
“Tight as fuck,” Quasar grumbled, grunting and growling his way into his own pants. “These fuckers are not meant for Drakon cock.”
“Flare said they relax with wear.” The cut went on last, my hair pulling into a low tail behind my head with a strap of the same animal hide. “Just do a few lunges, they should loosen up.”
“They’ll fucking burst.” He stuck his head in his own closet and grabbed out the rest of his clothing. “How do humans–and our fellow Drakons–wear these without busting their ball sacks?”
“We will have to ask.” I patted him on the back and turned for the door. “I’ll meet you up there.”
“If I don’t make it, just know I passed out from blood loss,” Quasar hollered after me as the door whooshed shut behind me with a weary sigh.
I took a moment to stand in the corridor and pinch the bridge of my nose as I collected my thoughts. I knew how Radon felt, Quasar could be a handful, but he brought lightness to the darker aspects of our lives, so I wouldn’t change a thing about our usually happy-go-lucky mate. Even if he could be a bit of a brat, every now and then.
“You would think he would be in a better mood after a few rounds.” Radon stood against a bulkhead, one foot up on the wall, causal as could be and aloof. My mate was anything but distant–however, it took a trained eye to read Radon. Even Quasar and I had trouble back when we were first called by the mating bond.
“The pants are excessively tight.” I strode up to my darker mate. My grumpy and distant male. Using one claw, I tipped his chin up and leaned in, capturing his lips with mine. “But he’ll get over it. Our mate is nothing if not adaptable.” I sighed as his lips quirked in humor and agreement against mine. “He’ll be back to his bouncy self just as soon as his feet hit that dirt he’s been so eager to conquer and he can word vomit out all of the new vocab he’s acquired. So, my mate?” I demanded, suddenly feeling antsy to be on our way to the bridge. “Is it as blue as they say?”
“The gas giant is a deep and angry amber.”
“Earth,” I amended. “The people of Earth call it the blue planet.”
Radon huffed. “The people of Earth are not all that specific in their use of language–as Quasar has so gleefully pointed out–during this interminable trip.” He shrugged to ease some of the sting of his tone. “I suppose a fair share of the planet’s surface is a shade of blue, yes.” Radon stole one last kiss, before kicking off the wall and pushing me away. “Though I would have thought a warrior painter would be a stickler for using a more specific terminology.” He raised his eyebrow in a goading fashion. “Come see for yourself, mate, instead of hiding out in our quarters. Zinc needs you on the bridge.”
“So you said,” I laughed. Zinc wasn’t that rigid a captain, a few minutes wouldn’t matter to him, but my mate’s dragon was a stickler for the rules and following orders. “Lead the way.”
Radon turned on his heel and I watched that tight ass sauntering away, mesmerized by his tail swinging back and forth in a subtle tease. My mate wasn’t as stuffy as he wanted everyone to believe. Laughing silently to myself, I shook my head. I really did have the most perfect mates. It only stood to reason that my human mate would be just as exquisite.
1
Tess
Well, fuck. Here I was again. Standing outside the bank in my best ‘lady boss’ attire about to go head-to-head with the old goat who ran Valhalla’s Pass United. Sure, Timothy Curmudgeon was a complete and utter prick, but unfortunately he was the sole lender in these parts.
Well, the sole lender I had any intention of doing business with, at any rate.
I’d left my usual outfit–ass-hugging denim, a dark v-neck tee and leather jacket plus my beloved steel-capped cowboy boots which I often got to put to good use when handling unruly patrons at closing time–behind. This was not the time for work-casual, this was the time to show Mr. Curmudgeon with his big pompous belly and jiggly jowls that I meant business.
I was dressed to slay–wearing my one and only two piece suit, a nice blouse unbuttoned just far enough to hint at a peek without showing unnecessary cleavage, and the dreaded heels. I’d even pulled my hair back into a bun and slapped on a bit of makeup for good measure.
To think I’d worn a similar outfit back in the city working my day job without a word of complaint seemed like a far off dream. More like a slow and insidious death-trap of a waking nightmare, if I were being honest with myself.
After returning to my childhood home to help save our family’s business, I’d rolled up my sleeves and slipped back into my old life–and wardrobe–with a relieved sigh. Truthfully, I’d realized pretty quick that city life wasn’t for the likes of me, but I’d inherited my family’s stubborn streak in spades. It had prevented me from admitting I wanted nothing more than to return to mountain life. I preferred being surrounded by nature while putting in a good honest day or night’s work in the pub, nodding to the friendly faces and keeping the riff-raff on their toes, rather than forcing myself to keep up with the exhausting trends of modern city life.
So, when Uncle Frank rang to beg me to come back after falling off the wagon–again–I’d jumped at the chance to turn our family’s legacy around. On one condition. From that moment on, I was no longer going to be just another staff member. Instead, I would come on as a fifty-fifty partner at Last Chance Bar. Oh, and Uncle Frank had to give up the gambling, once and for all.
To my surprise, Uncle Frank had immediately agreed to my terms. He’d gotten the documentation sorted out by the time I’d arrived home, handed me the keys to his office, then booked himself into treatment. Soon enough, I cottoned onto the fact that he’d only gotten out of town so quick because he didn’t want to stick around while the dust settled.
Probably a wise move. I’d needed a few weeks to come to terms with my new reality alone. While I’d been off creating my new life in the city, Last Chance Bar had indeed been drowning in debt.
That first night, I’d drunk half a bottle of whiskey as I surveyed the damage.
Debt collection missives and threatening letters from Valhalla’s Pass one and only banking establishment were just the beginning. Long-forgotten papers and legal documentation had also been stuffed into every corner of the hurricane-swept office.
But I was a woman on a mission, damnit, and I’d always wanted the chance to run my own business. Taking over Last Chance Bar, I’d decided on the long drive home, was going to be my time to shine.
My determination to turn things around had breathed new life into Uncle Frank, too. For a good solid stretch of years, we’d worked side-by-side to consolidate the debt and pay it off. Nice and steady. He’d even let me try out some of my city-slicker ideas–those he considered the more sane ones, at least.
During that time, Uncle Frank had stayed true to his word as well. Wrestled his demon back into its dark cave and worked his butt off to help me set our lives straight without touching a drop of liquor, nor frequenting any of the known gambling haunts in town.
