Treasure Lane Dragons: Complete Series (BBW Paranormal Dragon Shapeshifter Romance) (7 page)

He watched quietly as the rain started falling, the valley that had just been bathed in warm red hues now the sight of a torrential rainstorm, complete with rumbling thunder and flashes of lightning. Devon smiled, feeling the raindrops fall on him and drench him to the bone in a matter of seconds. Unlike most dragons, he didn’t mind the rain. It soothed him, if anything. People quipped that wherever he went, foul weather followed, but that was no coincidence.

While his father had been a patient, tolerant man, no doubt his edges smoothed out by the decades Gabriella had spent working hard on making him into the better man she knew he could be, Devon’s jagged edges and razor sharp fangs were still intact. He knew exactly what he was and did not yet plan to be changed by anything, not even a woman. But, as with all things in life, a dragon knew that change was inevitable.

And, if that change was brought on by his Gem, perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad. He could make her see that his instincts were right, and if she didn’t want to understand at first, well, he’d make her. It was only proper. She was
his
, after all – he’d decided so.

Devon stood, enjoying the cold droplets that etched tracks along his skin, until something caught his attention at the very edge of his vision. Movement in the darkness stirred him from his reverie, and Devon whipped his head to the side, his brows furrowing. When he recognized the shape, scurrying down the mountain hastily, his lips curled in a vicious snarl.

No,
he thought simply with such certainty that his dragon echoed it immediately. Without thinking about it, his body twisted and contorted, elongating and bulging as his shift took him. Dark, blue-tipped slim scales started appearing on his cheeks and chin, rapidly moving down his neck and appearing on his arms. His jaw and nose fused into a frightful maw, teeth as thick as blades jutting out as his neck lengthened and his chest ripped wider.

Devon grew on the spot, wings sprouting from his back where his shoulder blades would have been, the leathery skin both tough and pliable. When his feet touched down, his change was complete, the dragon given full reign where normally the man ruled.

Immediately, he spread his wings and let out a roar that made the mansion tremble underneath his thick legs. Nails scraped at the stones as he lifted up and his golden eyes locked on Gemma, rushing down the mountain. Frustration and aggravation brimmed in him, making him burst downward and over her. He maneuvered carefully, knowing that one misplaced motion of his wings would send her falling into the ravine.

She might have been insolent to think that she was allowed to run from him, but he already knew that if she were to die, he would die right after her.

He skidded to the ground ahead of her, blocking the path down with his massive body. Steam rose from his nostrils, and his eyes blazed. If any of his enemies had seen him now, they would have fled immediately. But none of his enemies had Gemma’s courage.

“Get the fuck out of my way, you overgrown cockroach!”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gemma

Gemma could barely see ahead of herself as she ran down the path, rain beating the dirt around her. She’d only brought a little pack with her essentials, and nothing more. Even the little blue suede box with the dragon stone still rested on her bedside table, though the sentiment to take it along had been almost overwhelming. Her heart ached as she crept through the mansion, careful not to draw any unwanted attention and making sure that Devon wasn’t anywhere in earshot.

She hadn’t expected to feel that way. Sure, he was a rampant asshole, and she’d never in a million years consider actually marrying him, holding hope to the very end that she could make him see reason, but there was something about him that made all her senses stand up and take notice. Maybe it was the way he carried himself or how he was so insurmountably sure of everything he did, but Gemma would have been lying if she’d said that there hadn’t been a very big part of her trying to convince her to stay.

But she couldn’t, could she?

No woman in her right mind would sit around waiting to be married off to some self-admiring jerk of a dragon if she could help it, right? These weren’t the middle ages anymore when a dragon could swoop down from the mountains, claim a virgin and live happily ever after with her. First of all, she was no virgin.

Secondly, she wasn’t big on being claimed. If a man wanted to be with her, it had to be something she wanted just as badly, and though her body was definitely screaming yes to the idea of sticking around with Devon for a while longer, her rational self was all over that.

Nope, no wedding, no engagement, no nothing. He could huff and puff all he wanted, but Gemma was sure he wasn’t pants on head retarded enough to set fire to his entire town of goldsmiths – the very people who brought in a large chunk of his admittedly vast fortune. Even dragons couldn’t be that irrational, could they?

The closer she had got to the front door, lurking around in the shadows and trying to make herself scarcer than a mouse, the more doubts she had had. It was almost physically painful, bearing the thought of putting distance between herself and Devon. It sounded silly, if not stupid when she voiced the thought to herself, but there it was, plain as day.

Stepping out the front door had been hell itself, but when it closed behind her, her legs took over while her mind still hemmed and hawed. The sudden rain came as a surprise, but it seemed oddly poetic that she should be facing the elements as well as her own insecurities when breaking Devon’s trust.

So, she ran. But apparently, she couldn’t run fast or far enough.

Devon landed right in front of her, his massive clawed feet throwing around dirt and rocks, and his wings creating gushes of air that threw more water in her face. Her heart just about stopped as she skidded to a halt, the dragon as big as a house in front of her. She’d never seen one up so close. While a dragon seemed massive up in the air, it was nothing compared to staring one down at close distance.

His golden eyes peered right through her, twinkling with eons of wisdom she couldn’t begin to fathom (and neither could he, she mused darkly).

The blue-black scales glinted even in the lack of light, the occasional lightning bolt in the distance casting a stark light hue across him. He was breathtaking, even more so as a dragon than he was as a man – something she’d briefly thought impossible.

Instead of fear, she felt aggravated, and secretly, a little bit relieved. The words that tumbled out of her mouth came far easier than she thought they would have, having expected a terrified screech instead of that fake bravado that spilled from her mouth. It was easy to be full of herself when every fiber of her being told her that he wouldn’t hurt her, not in a million years.

The dragon stared at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, and the steam that rose from his nostrils fading out quickly. He seemed to contemplate her for a moment before the shift took him, and Gemma’s heart jumped as he turned back into the cocky man she knew and tentatively loathed.

“No,” he yelled, stepping closer to her, his voice booming over the rain as his dragon’s had just moments ago.

She could still feel the tremor in the ground from that roar of his.

“What?” she asked, standing her ground, her eyes ablaze with excitement.

Without noticing, her hands balled into fists, and her breath caught as he came ever closer and stood right in front of her, so close that she could feel the intense heat emanating off of his body. God, that body. The way the rain made his black shirt cling to his carved muscles and how the drops of water lurked down his chin, disappearing into rivers along his neck…

For a split second, she forgot where she was and was content to just stare at him in all his rugged perfection, until he shook her from the reverie she had so carefully crafted.

“No. I won’t get out of your way.” His voice was smooth and calm now, the growl swept out of it. She knew he wasn’t as calm as he let on, though – the golden eyes were sign enough of the contrary.

For a moment, she was speechless, and then, she tried to dodge past him. He caught her easily, spinning her back to face him, now tucked safely in his arms. The thunder seemed to roar louder all around them, deafening in its fury. His expression was almost stoic, with only his eyes shifting with that eternal fire that burned within him. It should have frightened her, but if anything, she felt safe and secure under the scrutiny of both the dragon and the man.

Her skin burned where his arms encircled her, and her chest rose and fell quickly, the sensation of his body so close to hers doing things to her she wasn’t completely prepared for.

“Listen, Gem,” he started, commanding her full attention. “When I said I chose you, I was not kidding, or making light, or offering it up for your review. I was
telling
you. From that moment onward, you were
mine
, and it is best if you get used to that knowledge sooner rather than later. You say I’ve picked and chosen what traditions I want to follow, and that may very well be, but these are my choices to make, not yours.

I’m sure you have your opinions on all of this, and how I am treating you unfairly, but I think you know as well as I do that when your family chose to live in Gold Valley, you gave up any pretense of free choice when it came to agreeing with the will of the dragons. Simply put, this was decided long before you were even a spec in the collective consciousness, and if you think that’s unfair, well, too bad, princess.”

He spoke with the certainty of a man, who had never been wrong. The sheer gall of him knocked the wind out of her sails. Gemma’s mouth fell slightly agape, and she stared at him in abject horror. She knew from ample personal experience that he was a cocky bastard, but she hadn’t quite grasped how bad he could be. Standing there in the darkness of a rainstorm, holding onto her while she had just been in the midst of an escape, he was still as cool and calm as ever in the knowledge that he could never be wrong.

Gemma saw red, easily ignoring the bit in her that relished being a princess to be pushed and pulled by his whims, and smacked him hard across the face.

“I’m not your princess!” she hissed, shaking with anger as he caught her wrist in his hand before she could try again.

His eyes flashed back to her, now blue and clear as day, and he smirked like she’d just given him the greatest treat she could have. Without missing a beat, he forced her hand down, and ignoring her surprised gasp, kissed her hard on the lips. Gemma’s eyes went wide with surprise, but as soon as his tongue dipped into her mouth, everything seemed to drift into the background. Suddenly, there was just Devon and his lips on hers and his arms around her.

Against better judgment, her body molded against his, and her lips met his eagerly, tasting him with the kind of passion she’d thought reserved for sappy romance tales. His hand was pressed flat against her lower back, and he released her wrist, bringing his other hand to snake through her hair, pulling her closer to him. The kiss made a roaring burst of heat uncoil within her, reaching to the very bottoms of her feet and the tips of her fingers before concentrating back together in a tight, hungry ball of desire at the pit of her stomach.

It didn’t seem cold anymore, and she could hardly tell that there was a storm raging around them. All she knew was that she was in Devon’s arms, and he held her like he was never prepared to let go. And that she liked it, even though she should have wanted to push him down a cliff. Truth be told, she wasn’t completely over the idea of shoving him down a ravine, but at the time being, she had more pressing issues – like distilling this moment and taking what she could from it before it ended. Because she knew it had to end.

Finally, he pulled away, and the storm seemed to stop at the very instant. One single drop of rain hit the ground next to them as she looked at the man, the impossible, infuriating, sexy as sin man that had made her life hell for the past two days. He smirked, and she just wanted to smack him again.

“Good. Now that we have that settled, I believe I need to take you back to your castle, princess.” Without further ceremony, he grabbed her by the legs and threw her over his shoulder like she were a feather and manhandling curvy women was what he did on a daily basis. Gemma gasped as he started back up towards the mansion as if what he was doing was the most perfectly normal thing he could possibly do.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you! You ARROGANT, self-admiring, cocky bastard! If you think you can just pick me up and take me wherever you want, you’re SO wrong!” Gemma screeched, the skies clearing above her like nothing had happened whatsoever.

Devon scoffed, and when Gemma launched into another tirade about how much of an asshat he was, Devon smacked her across her butt, drawing a hiss from her.

Who the hell does he think he is!? And what was that kiss all about? Gemma, what did you get yourself into?!

Of course, the question she should have been asking was whether she wanted to get herself out of that particular situation.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Devon

The cavern was as tall as it was wide, and it stretched endlessly into the distance as far as the eye could see. It was just the right kind of cold – the kind that invigorates a man and makes his step grow longer and faster, not the kind that weighs you down and takes what little energy you have. Being in the caverns under the mansion was just about the only time that Devon liked the cold. He leant on the smooth, polished rock at the doorway, eyeing his treasure thoughtfully. A small smile perched on his lips.

The piles of gold and unimaginable riches sprawled out before him, painstakingly gathered over a time longer than any human could fathom. For a dragon, however, it was only the beginning. A familiar shudder of glee ran through him, breathing fire into his joints and lifting the weariness of the previous day.