Mated to the Water Dragon (High House Draconis Book 2) Read online

  Mated to the Water Dragon

  High House Draconis Book 2

  Riley Storm

  Mated to the Water Dragon

  Copyright© 2019 Riley Storm

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, without written permission from the author. The sole exception is for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

  Edited by Annie Jenkinson, Just Copyeditors

  Cover Designs by Kasmit Covers

  Note from the Author

  Hi there!

  Thank you so much for picking up Mated to the Water Dragon. While this book and series are self-contained and can be read alone, if you want to get the full experience of the Plymouth Falls world, you would be best off starting with the High House Ursa series and book one, Bearing Secrets which is linked below.

  Either way, I hope you enjoy!

  -Riley Storm

  High House Ursa

  Bearing Secrets

  Furever Loyal

  Mated to the Enemy

  Shifting Alliances

  Blood Bearon

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  1

  “This is a joke, right? You’re joking.”

  Aaric sighed. The sound of air expelling through the other dragon’s nose with extra emphasis, combined with the slight skyward tilt of his gold-tinted eyes was enough to set Victor’s already clenched jaw even tighter.

  “Why would you think I’m joking?” Aaric asked him tightly.

  Laughing, Victor tapped his jaw, the motion heavy with excessive movement and sarcasm. “Hmm. Let me think about that one for a moment, here. Oh wait, I don’t need to. Could it be because you don’t want me here? You never wanted me here. Now you shuffle me off to this project of yours that you haven’t worked on in three months as a way to get me out of your sight. Stop me if I’m wrong.”

  His eyes caught the flexing of one of Aaric’s arms. “Go on then. Do it. Punch me. Try it,” he barked, taking an aggressive stance, legs spread, one in front of the other to help balance.

  Aaric mimicked him, and the two dragons squared off.

  “Why do you always think things are about you?” Aaric asked, his voice still calm, though his eyes watched Victor like a hawk, waiting for any sign of movement.

  “Nice dodge. But don’t lie. You woke me by accident, and you regret it. You hate the sight of me because it reminds you of your own screw-up. Now that I’m up to speed on this new century, you want to get rid of me. You’re tired of having me around. I’m just the screw-up nobody wants,” he said bitterly. “News flash though, Aaric, this time around, it’s you who screwed up. My mistake is in the past. Yours is right here, right now.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” the other dragon shifter snarled, eyes blazing with golden light. “I fucked up. There, you happy? We didn’t intend to wake you. We meant to wake an elder, someone who could oversee this mess. Someone already mated, who could wake another dragon right away. Or, perhaps, all the elder dragons. Because the motherfucking blood-sucking vampires are back, and we’re in for a fight. Or did you miss that little memo in your studies?” Aaric shot back at him.

  “Oh no, I heard it. Loud and clear. You kept saying it, over, and over. Except I haven’t seen any sign of them. Nothing at all. You keep telling me that they’re back. Sounds like a scare plot to try and justify your fuck-up. But trust me, I know from experience, nobody ever lets you justify it.”

  Aaric rolled his eyes. “Are you seriously still harping on something that happened a hundred and twenty years ago? Come on, Victor.”

  “It was only a few years ago to me,” Victor growled, the bitter shame of his mistake filling his mouth as he paced up the hallway, as if putting distance between him and Aaric would help lessen his own embarrassment.

  “Yeah, because you fled to sleep after instead of facing it like an adult.”

  Victor saw Aaric’s eyes narrow as he spoke, realizing the mistake, but he didn’t care. His temper flared and he thrust a fist forward.

  Water erupted in a torrent from the tightly wrapped fingers and shot directly at Aaric, the tip of it opening like a serpent’s mouth.

  Aaric brought his right arm up, holding it vertical in front of him. Fire flared as the water hit and burst around the arm, flashing into steam as the two elements smashed together. The older dragon grunted at the unexpected impact and staggered back several steps.

  Pressing his attack, Victor took a step forward, slapping both arms out in front of him now, fists pressed together. The spray of water more than doubled in size, now over a foot in diameter. He was winning the attack.

  “That. Is. Enough!” a voice thundered from behind him.

  A moment later, something hard clanged off Victor’s skull and he staggered forward, the water torrent cutting off abruptly as he momentarily saw stars. Then a fireball slammed into his chest and hurled him twenty feet back down the hallway. He bounced and skidded, somehow avoiding all the walls.

  Before he could get to his feet, Aaric was there, a rapier-thin blade of blue-white fire extending from his left hand, resting only a few inches from Victor’s neck. He could feel the heat blazing against his skin, his own dragon scales rising from under the human flesh to protect him.

  “Drop it, Aaric. Or I’ll turn this around and hammer the dent out from the other side on your head.”

  Victor turned an eye to the steward of Drakon Keep, home of House Draconis. “What did you hit me with, Francis?” he asked casually, as if he wasn’t one wrong word away from being skewered.

  “My favorite frying pan,” the smaller human said, holding up the dented metal cooking implement. “I can’t believe I wasted it on you.”

  “A lot of people waste things on me,” Victor mumbled, looking away.

  Aaric still hovered above him, flame-sword in hand.

  “Oh, knock it off,” Victor snarled, batting it away with a hand covered in frigid water as protection. Water and sword flared into more uncomfortably humid steam.

  Aaric stepped off him, and the flames disappeared, seeming to retract into the fire dragon’s hand.

  “So, are you going to do this or not?” he asked, staring down at Victor.

  Victor was about to tell him to piss off. That he wasn’t going to do his bidding, that Aaric could find another lackey. But an idea came to him just before. A wicked idea that would screw over Aaric, and benefit Victor.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, trying to still act grumpy. “Fine. I’ll build your stupid
outreach center while you worry about the non-existent vampire threat.”

  Francis leveled the frying pan at him. “The vampires are real. I saw the effects of it on Miss Olivia myself. You would be wise to heed Aaric’s advice and warning on that front.”

  Getting to his feet, admiring the scorch marks on his chest where the fireball had landed, Victor rolled his eyes. “The last time I heeded someone’s advice, I lost everything I had to that witch. Don’t tell me what to do, steward.”

  Aaric bristled at the derogative sneer, but Victor didn’t care. He wasn’t about to let anyone tell him what to do. That was how he’d gotten himself into trouble in the first place.

  “What do you want me to do?” he said, looking at Aaric.

  “I’ll show you the plans. Learn them. Tomorrow, you will meet with the Consultant and Project Manager from Plymouth Falls. She’s the one overseeing everything on their end. It’s a joint project between the Drakon family and the county.”

  “Fine, fine. Let’s get it over with,” he muttered, trying to sound reluctant.

  Aaric gestured, and they headed off down the hall. Neither of them spoke.

  But in his mind, Victor was already crowing with victory.

  ***

  “Hi, I’m here to meet with a Cheryl Anders,” he said before the woman behind the desk could even speak. “She’s expecting me. I’m Victor Drakon.”

  The secretary looked suitably impressed at the name drop and scrambled for her phone. Victor looked around the office. It was thoroughly…boring. Drab. Soft gray tones on the walls, muted dark woods for the fixtures. Lots of glass though, he noted, remembering how the cost of glass had come down remarkably and was no longer a fancy additive.

  How the times have changed, he thought, tapping one finger on the top of the desk, ignoring the constant glances he was getting from the secretary. He could almost smell her arousal. He thought about seeing how flustered he could get the woman before he was called in, but something beeped on her desk.

  “Miss Anders will see you now,” the secretary said with undisguised sadness at his departure. “Through there.”

  He followed the pointed finger to a set of double doors. Both they and the walls were all frosted glass. Victor could make out shapes beyond, but little other detail.

  “Thank you,” he said with a wink that set the secretary’s cheeks ablaze as he headed into Conference Room A, as told to him by the little placard on the wall next to the door.

  Victor stopped several feet shy of the door, however, as it opened from the inside first, a slim, pale-as-porcelain hand sliding out to wrap around the edge of the door.

  “Mr. Drakon,” the owner of the hand said as they emerged.

  The giant dragon shifter came to a skidding halt, his own face paling as he stared, first in shock, but quickly shifting to anger.

  “You,” he hissed, eyes taking in the platinum blonde hair, pointed chin and small nose. Eyes of light playful brown stared at him, pupils dilating as she processed his reaction.

  “Pardon?” she asked, those same eyes staring back at him with nothing but confusion.

  “It can’t be,” he growled mostly to himself. “Impossible.”

  It couldn’t be her. Sheer physics said so. Not even a witch could live into her fourteenth decade, which is how old she would have to be by now. If not more. No, this couldn’t be the woman she looked like, the bitch who had deprived him of everything, despite being the spitting image of her.

  But she could be a descendant.

  Victor grinned outwardly and inwardly. His plan had just taken on another level. A complete and unexpected, and frankly impossible turn of events had given him the opportunity to screw over Aaric and right a wrong against him that was a century overdue.

  His smile froze in place as he realized one more thing.

  Aaric must have known. The twice-cursed fire dragon had known who she was, and he’d sent Victor to deal with her anyway.

  Oh yes, they were both going to pay. They were both going to pay dearly.

  And Victor would profit off them both.

  2

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, pausing in the doorway.

  “What? No, no, of course not,” the big man said, shaking his head. He looked good, in the expensive-looking pinstripe suit that, unless she missed her guess, was custom-made. Very good.

  And also angry. Cheryl wasn’t blind, she’d not missed the way he’d reacted to seeing her. What she was, however, was thoroughly confused as to why he would think they’d met before. After all, she was positive she would remember someone like him.

  Tall, tanned, with a dark, almost scruffy five-o-clock shadow already despite it being only two in the afternoon, he would leave an impression on anyone. His entire being exuded power. Barely-restrained power. She could sense it in the width of his shoulders, or the thick fingers of his right hand as he reached out to introduce himself.

  “Victor Drakon,” he said, his voice deep, yet a smooth bass without that gravelly rumble that was so frequent. Cheryl wondered for a moment if he was a trained singer, it was so melodic, almost mesmerizing to listen to him speak.

  “Cheryl Anders,” she said, taking the hand, noting the warmth of his grip and the casual strength. He wasn’t showing off, he simply was that strong.

  The most defining feature, however, wasn’t his strong jaw, ultra-thick short brown hair, or the muscles she suspected lurked under the fine material of his suit. No, it was his eyes. Brilliant green like the turquoise waters of the most beautiful sandy beach in the world. Flawless gemstones that peered out from under his brow at her.

  Cheryl’s throat went dry as she stared into them, captured by their beauty, awed by the sheer sexuality of his gaze. It washed over her like one of the waves from that same beach, and her body shivered at the attention.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  “Can I come in?”

  Snapped out of her daydream by the question, she shook off the trance-like haze that had settled over her mind and nodded too fast and too furiously. “Of course, of course. Please, we’re excited to have you here.”

  “Not as excited as I am to be here,” Victor said as she pushed open the door and stepped back into the room.

  Cheryl bit her lip, trying to determine if he meant it or not. There had been an undertone to his words, something she wasn’t picking up on. So far, her interaction with Victor Drakon had been nothing like the way she’d envisioned it. But there was still time to salvage everything. They hadn’t even gotten started on the meeting.

  Just secure the deal. That’s all you need to do today. Go over the plans and secure the commitment of the Drakon family, as you discussed informally with Aaric. Make it official. You can do this!

  She could do this. Cheryl knew that. She hadn’t been promoted to city-consultant-slash-project-manager for no reason at all. Her work on other, much smaller projects had been noticed by her superiors. It was why she wore the dual hat now. That, and because the county lacked the budget to hire two separate people. But she wasn’t complaining. Securing a project as large as the Drakon Outreach Center would make her name a staple among the county offices.

  One signature. That’s all I need to get, she reminded herself, showing Victor to an empty seat before taking her own.

  “Victor, this is my team. Stephen, Liz, and Tanya. Team, this is Victor Drakon.”

  Pleasantries were exchanged. While they all shook hands, Cheryl kept her eyes on Victor. He was professional with all of them, but his eyes kept straying back to her.

  What is it about me? She wasn’t used to having such a profound effect on men. Especially not ones built like professional athletes. Cheryl had always been focused on her studies. Athletics were…not something she was great at. Apparently, her hand-eye coordination was, well, lacking, to put it politely.

  As a result, she’d focused on academics and her body had followed suit. A few extra bulges here and there had become more, but she wasn’t conc
erned, because her career had started taking off right around then. Now she was well on her way to proving to herself and her parents that her decision to stay in Plymouth Falls wasn’t stupid. What she looked like just didn’t matter as long as she was happy.

  “Shall we get down to business?”

  Victor was staring at her.

  “Oh, of course,” she said, shaking her head, clearing it of all fantasies and self-doubts. It was time to focus on her job. She could do that.

  “If you don’t mind, could you give me a brief refresh? Aaric has done his best to bring me up to speed, but if I’m honest, I haven’t done more than glance over the plans,” Victor said calmly.

  “Yeah. Sure. Of course.” Cheryl stood up, conscious of Victor’s eyes. They never seemed to leave her. She appreciated his focus while she was talking, but it was almost too intense. What was he thinking about?

  She unrolled the architectural drawings for the DOC, as they had jokingly taken to calling the project around the office, laying it out on the large oval table.

  “Did you have any specific questions?” she asked as Victor bent over them.

  “No.” The answer was abrupt, sharp.

  Cheryl couldn’t get a bead on Victor. If he didn’t have any questions, then why had he wanted to see the plans in the first place? Couldn’t they just sign the contract and get down to business?

  “As you can see,” she said, sliding the stack of papers in front of him. “It’s all outlined here, as confirmed by your lawyers and ours. All you need to do is sign, and then construction can begin, we can break ground.”

  Victor was nodding. “Yes, yes I’m sure that those documents are all correct. For these plans.”

  Trying to keep herself from frowning, Cheryl stood up straight. “I don’t understand. For these plans?”

  “Yes.” Victor drew himself upright, staring straight at her as he did.

  Was he trying to intimidate her? What on earth was his issue?

  “Are there other plans? I’m not aware of anything. These are the ones Aaric agreed on.” She kept her face calm on the outside, but inside her heart was beating like a butterfly’s wings. Something was wrong, she could feel it.