Dragonstruck

Chapter 1

 

All manner of humans bumped past me on their way to their seats. Weary business travelers, dreamy-eyed lovers, mothers with screaming children—screaming children that I prayed would sit far away from me.

It’s not like I had anything against little ones. I wasn’t a total dick. However, shrill cries and supernatural hearing mixed as well as chalkboards and talons.

The parade of humanity slowed to a trickle, and the window seat beside me remained blessedly empty. Not that I needed more leg room—an extra thousand Euros had seen to that—but the last time I’d flown among the huddled masses, my row mate had recognized me. The guy had spent the entire two hours grilling me on everything from the type of guitar I preferred to how many groupies I’d banged.

I loathed flying commercial airlines.

A distinctly feminine energy at the forward door caused me to break the cardinal rule of boarding—never look the other passengers in the eye. Not even a stunning set of baby blues hidden behind cat’s eyeglasses.

The little brunette had this sexy librarian thing going on. Hair in a no-nonsense bun, a hint of makeup, and a white button-down tucked into a dark skirt. I couldn’t see her feet, but I bet she wore black pumps. Cute—but not my type.

I was a Grammy award-winning rock-star. The woman on my arm, like everything I wore when performing, had to look the part.

The brunette glanced from her ticket to the seat numbers, and finally to me. “I think I’m in the window.”

Keeping my head down, I mumbled, “Two B?”

“Or not to be, that is the question isn’t it?” She laughed at her own joke.

Quoting Shakespeare? Maybe the chick was a librarian. I scowled to discourage any further communication and stood. Of course, she stared. They always did while they puzzled out where they’d seen my face. I’d tried to blend in with the business crowd by shaving my trademark five o’clock shadow, cutting my hair, and wearing a suit jacket over my button-down shirt and jeans. I’d even put on a pair of glasses. I called the look my Clark Kent disguise.

Her carry-on bag looked as if it’d explode with the slightest provocation, but my eyes zeroed in on the bit of red lace caught in the zipper. While I congratulated myself for recognizing a kinky wolf in bookworm’s clothing, she hoisted the bag mere inches from my face and shoved it into the overhead compartment.

Her strength made me wonder if she was something other than human. I scented the air, and my dragon sat up and took notice. The woman smelled like lavender and ocean breezes and home. The beast inside me purred like an oversized cat. I covered my nose and mouth with my sleeve and scowled. Oh hell no. This isn’t happening. She’s too young, too plain, and too human.

The brunette plopped into her seat and pulled a phone from her purse.

And so it begins. She’d want a selfie with me. A selfie that would end up on social media, or worse, in the tabloids.

Her smile wilted. “Are you okay?”

Wanting no part of the woman who’d caused my dragon to roll over and ask for a belly scratch, I walked to the front of the plane in search of a flight attendant. “Are there any other available seats?”

The pretty blonde filled out her uniform in ways that I usually appreciated, but for some reason seemed blasé—in a been there done that kind of way. “Aren’t you…?”

The first-class cabin was full, and I’d be damned if I sat in coach. My best bet was to flirt my way into a seat reassignment. I leaned close and whispered. “Yes, and I don’t want to cause trouble, but the girl beside me…”

The flight attendant glanced at my row, sighed, met my eyes, and sighed again. “We’re completely full, Mr. Lawson, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” I dropped my gaze to her name tag, lingered on her breasts, and flashed her my million-dollar grin. “Leila.”

Her pupils dilated and the heady scent of arousal filled my nostrils.

My dragon, who usually enjoyed the hunt, growled—not at her—at me. He wasn’t interested in the blonde. He wanted the woman in two-B.

I turned in time to catch the librarian covertly sniffing her armpits.

Shit. I’d done it. I’d hurt her feelings. This is going to be a long flight.

She cast me a quivering smile, lowered her chin, and put in her earbuds.

I’m an ass. My dragon roared his agreement. I hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable, but I’d done just that. I returned to my seat and leaned into her space. “Would you like a photo?”

She either hadn’t heard or chose to ignore me.

Before I could ask again, the flight attendant approached our row. “You’ll have to put that away.”

Once again, the woman didn’t respond.

“Excuse me, miss.” The blonde leaned across me and touched my row mate’s shoulder. “No electronic devices during take-off.”

I pressed my head against the seat to put some distance between my face and the flight attendant’s breasts.

The librarian startled and pulled a bud from her right ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

Pressing even closer to me, the blonde said, “No electronic devices during take-off.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize. This is my third leg. I didn’t have an issue on the first two flights.” Her cheeks colored an adorable shade of pink.

Images of her head thrown back, lips parted, eyes closed, and the same rosy color on her face flashed through my mind. This time, my cock sat up and took notice along with the dragon.

What the hell?

“Be that as it may. This is my aircraft. My rules.” The flight attendant’s gaze dropped to my lap and a knowing smile curved her lips. “There aren’t any empty seats. I’ll ask someone to switch with you after we reach our cruising altitude, or you could take my jump seat if it’s too unbearable.”

I startled when her fingers grazed my thigh. I’d brought this on myself, but damn, I’d met junkies with more self-restraint. “I’m good here.”

She batted her mascara-laden lashes. “It’s no trouble.”

I allowed a hint of my beast to deepen my voice. “I’ve changed my mind.”

The blonde righted herself so quickly, she’d nearly toppled backward. Once she’d regained her footing, she gave me a curt nod and cast a quick glare at my row mate. “Press the call button if you need anything.”

Fastening my seatbelt, I said. “I won’t, but thanks.”

The librarian had scrunched herself as close to the wall, and as far away from me, as possible.

A pang of regret thrummed through me like a mis-strummed G-chord. Though I had good reason for keeping people at arm’s length, I hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. “Where are you coming from?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but she clamped it shut when the plane picked up speed. Hands gripping the armrests, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

Her fear hit my nostrils and the damned dragon struggled to reach her. The beast had behaved like a lunatic since she’d walked on board and showed no signs of stopping. I hadn’t felt this out of control of my other nature since puberty.

Against my better judgment, I rested my hand on her sleeve. “Relax. I fly all the time for work, and I haven’t crashed yet.”

Her eyes widened. “Why would you say the C-word now?”

I only knew one C-word. One I rarely used outside the bedroom. The mere thought of the librarian on a mattress had me rock solid once again.

What the unholy fuck is going on with me today?

 

 

Chapter 2

 

I’m going to die, and this guy’s the last person I’ll ever speak to. Why couldn’t I have sat next to a nice old woman or a firefighter or a priest? Life wasn’t fair.

I’d nearly done cartwheels down the hall when my boss had assigned me to the research team in the Out Skerries. My joy, however, was short-lived. In order to get from Atlanta to Bruray, Scotland in the Shetland Islands, I would have to fly, not one but three flights. Three take-offs. Three landings. Three chances to die in a flaming ball of metal—and then I’d have to survive hours on a boat in the North Sea.

I would have turned down the assignment, had my roommate, Sarah, not convinced me to get a prescription for Ambien and upgrade my seats to first-class. Her plan had worked. Sort of.

I’d slept during the first leg from Atlanta to Heathrow. Still drowsy, I’d dozed off and on from London to Glasgow. However, I hadn’t taken another dose before my last flight for fear I’d be too loopy to find my way to the harbor, or worse, fall asleep and wake up in Timbuktu or something.

I would have managed better had the guy beside me not been a class-A jerk. He’d scowled and covered his nose when I’d stowed my carry-on. Sure, I hadn’t had a shower in twenty hours, but I’d used clinical strength deodorant and brushed my teeth during my last layover.

His problem. Not mine.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to jinx you.” The jerk with the gray-eyes removed his hand from my arm and faced forward. “But we’ll both live to see another day.”

I had two seconds to enjoy his Gaelic accent before the landing gear left the ground. Certain that death had come for me, I dug my fingers into the armrests.

He grinned the sort of grin guys gave hysterical women—the nonverbal equivalent to mansplaining. “Hey, relax. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Please stop talking.”

He made a noise that sounded too much like a laugh for my liking.

My stomach dropped each time the plane accelerated or bobbled. Bile rose in my throat, and the burger I’d eaten during my layover threatened to return. “I’m going to be sick.”

A large hand rested on my shoulder and eased me forward. He cooed over the roar of the engines, the engines that would fail at any second and kill us all. “Easy. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Nice and slow.”

His voice was better than any prescription drug. A sense of wellbeing, of safety, of coming home flooded me.

The plane leveled out, and he jerked his hand away.

“Thanks.” I risked a glance in his direction.

The guy was hot, in a buttoned-up yet casual kind of way. He looked like any other rich and successful businessman, but something about him felt off. His storm-cloud-gray eyes were too serious for someone who’d flirted with the flight attendant the way he had. Then again, maybe not. I’d seen plenty of women use their looks to get what they wanted. Why not a guy? He certainly had the resources to pull it off.

“No problem. I didn’t want to wash vomit off two-thousand-dollar Italian leather boots.”

Ignoring his comment, I snatched my phone from the seat pocket, put my earbuds in, and cranked the volume. Screw the flight attendant. I needed a distraction.

The guy tensed as if waiting for a throat punch. Asshole wasn’t a word I used often but if the insult fits…

I increased the volume to drown out the sound of the engines, and he scowled. There was no way he could hear the music, but something had crawled up his butt.

I rested my head back, closed my eyes, and let the melody of my favorite song wrap around me like a warm blanket.

He shifted in his seat. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

I pretended not to hear him.

He nudged my shoulder and stared until I removed one earbud. “I don’t think this is funny.”

The growl in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. A shiver I couldn’t interpret. My brain warned me to tread lightly, but other parts of my anatomy responded in a very different manner. I crossed my arms to hide my hardened nipples and forced a smile. “What are you talking about?”

He motioned to my phone.

“Fine. I’ll turn it down.” I put the bud back into my ear and adjusted the volume.

The guy continued to stare.

Seriously? What’s his problem? “Oh come on. There’s no way you can still hear it.”

His eyes widened for a half a second, then he grinned and nodded. “No. It’s fine. Forget I said anything.”

Whatever thought had tumbled through his head seemed to have appeased the beast.

What a whack job.

Once again, I closed my eyes and focused on the music. Solstice, my favorite band, had an otherworldly sound that I loved. They’d managed to marry haunting lyrics with rock guitars and traditional Celtic instruments, like bagpipes, flutes, and mandolins, to create a unique sound.

Five songs later, a different flight attendant took our dinner orders. Unlike in coach, the food in the front of the plane wasn’t terrible, and it came on dishes instead of plastic containers. I often volunteered with an environmental group fighting to bring awareness to the planet’s growing garbage problem. I appreciated the real plates and silverware.

The guy took a gulp of his whiskey. “What were you listening to?”

“A band called Solstice.” I sincerely doubted he’d ever heard of them, but I’d play nice as long as he did.

He cocked one brow and stared as if waiting for me to continue to the punch line.

I glanced at his crisp button-down shirt and expensive jacket. “They’re probably not your style.”

He choked on his drink. “What makes you say that?”

I waved in his general direction. “I don’t know. You look like more of a traditional music guy.”

He turned his body toward me. “Like what? Big band and jazz?”

I couldn’t tell if I’d offended or amused him. “More like radio rock.”

“Solstice is played on most mainstream rock stations. I do believe their latest album had four number one hits and won a Grammy.” His eyes narrowed, but a slight grin softened his expression.

“True, but I prefer their older stuff. They’re walking the line between staying true to their roots and selling out.”

He sucked in a breath. “I disagree. Just because a band’s successful doesn’t mean they’ve sold their souls or degraded their music.”

I brought my hand to my mouth to prevent laughter from spilling out. “I’m Eilís.”

He opened his mouth to reply but paused and shook his head. “Nice to meet you. Is that Eilís with an E or an A?”

“An E.” My cheeks heated. Most people said my name as eyelash or Ellis. Not only had he gotten the pronunciation of my name right on the first try, he’d made it sound like a naughty promise.

This guy’s serious trouble.