Page 11 of Conning Her Dragonkin Boss (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

Chapter Eleven

THE DRAGON FINDS HIS PREY

Khanner Rokoth

A familiar irritation settles between my eyes.

One morning without Sunny, and everything is already off.

The little things—my espresso not waiting at my desk, the slightly out-of-place stack of reports, the brief but frustrating two-minute delay when someone needed clarification on the morning’s financial presentation.

Nothing major.

Nothing catastrophic.

Because she did so much already.

She prepped the A/V settings last night, ensured all files were uploaded and timed perfectly. I didn’t even have to think. Just pressed one button, and the seminar presentation began without a hitch.

Efficient.

Perfect.

As expected.

Still, I hate that she’s not here.

Not just because she makes my life easier.

But because I… miss her.

I think of last night.

The way she looked, curled up in the seating area of her suite, a half-empty tea cup in her hand, her breath soft and steady.

Precious.

That’s what she was.

I had stared longer than I should have, taking in the way her dark lashes rested against her cheeks, the way her body relaxed in my presence, the way she felt… safe.

A strange, overwhelming feeling took root in my chest then.

Mine.

It was undeniable.

She is my treasure.

My mate.

I know it with certainty.

And that knowledge is almost unbearable.

Because I have yet to claim her.

I let out a slow breath, forcing my mind back to work.

I won’t check on her. Not yet.

Not until after the lunch workshops are over.

But even as I try to focus, I still smell her.

That warm, sweet scent of hers lingers.

I frown, shaking my head. Impossible.

I need to concentrate.

It’s nearly midday when Royce slides into my periphery, brows raised in amusement.

“You’re gonna want to see this,” he says, turning his tablet toward me.

I glance at the screen.

A social media post.

A photo.

And in that photo?—

Sunny.

My entire body goes still.

I would know her anywhere.

She’s in costume, standing with others dressed in elaborate armor, her expression bright but tense.

Beneath the photo, the location tag makes my chest tighten.

The convention center.

I slowly place my cup down.

Royce leans against the table, grinning. “So. That’s definitely your assistant.”

I don’t answer.

Because something clicks in my head.

The scent from earlier.

I wasn’t imagining it.

She’s here.

Across the street.

I rise from my seat, straightening my jacket.

Royce raises an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

I don’t answer.

Because I already know exactly where I’m headed.

The moment I step inside, I realize a problem.

I don’t have a badge.

The entrance is guarded, and registration is clearly required.

I start to consider other ways in when someone—an event coordinator, by the looks of them—stops and stares at me.

“Oh, thank gods, you’re here!”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

The coordinator beams. “You’re the dragon knight model, right? The one we hired for the main event?”

I say nothing.

Because what?

The coordinator looks at my suit, my stature, my presence—and clearly assumes I am someone meant to be here.

I exhale slowly. “Yes.”

“Perfect! Right this way—your partner is waiting backstage.”

I follow without hesitation.

I see her before she sees me.

Standing backstage, dressed in full warrior-priestess armor, her expression tight with nerves.

Her hands are curled into fists, and she keeps adjusting the gauntlets on her wrists.

She looks perfect.

And yet—she is not okay.

She’s struggling.

I step forward.

She turns.

And the second she sees me, her shoulders sag in relief.

“Khanner,” she breathes, like I’m some kind of lifeline.

She blinks rapidly, then flushes red as realization hits her.

“You’re here.” Her voice is high-pitched. “Oh my gods, you’re here.”

“I am.” My tone is even, cool.

Sunny makes a strangled sound, eyes darting everywhere but me. “This isn’t fair.”

I raise a brow. “What isn’t fair?”

“You’re—you’re so gorgeous.” She throws up her hands. “It’s not fair!”

I blink.

She groans. “I meant—ugh, I’m so stressed that even seeing you is making it worse because you look like you just walked out of my favorite fantasy novel, and I can’t handle it right now.”

My lips twitch. “I’m trying to be angry, but it’s not fair that you’re being sweet and vulnerable.”

Her eyes flicker with guilt. “I didn’t mean to lie.”

I stiffen slightly.

She swallows. “I just… I didn’t want to miss my chance. This competition—it’s been my dream for years.”

I stare at her.

I hate lying.

Despise it.

But she looks so earnest. So raw.

And when the stage crew signals that it’s time, I realize something else.

This isn’t just a hobby for her.

This matters.

No wonder she’s so good at work—she’s even more creative outside of it.

She takes a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly.

“I can’t do it,” she whispers.

I don’t hesitate.

I step closer, tilting her chin up. “I’ll walk with you.”

Her breath hitches. “What?”

I extend my hand. “You won’t be alone.”

After a moment, she nods and takes it.

The second we step onto the stage, the room erupts.

The lights are bright, the music swells, and the massive screen behind us plays a montage of Sunny in character—practicing fight choreography, crafting details on her armor, narrating a dramatic monologue that plays over the speakers.

I watch her expression shift.

She transforms.

She’s no longer nervous.

She’s glorious.

The judges are enthralled.

And I?—

I don’t care about anything except her winning.

I glance at the judges, the audience, the way their eyes flick toward me.

And for the first time, I do something ridiculous.

I shift—just a little.

Just enough.

A hint of wings unfurl.

My pupils slit.

The edges of my skin shimmer, revealing faint scale-like markings.

It’s enough.

Enough to make me look inhumanly real.

Enough to seal her victory.

And I would do it again.

Because she deserves this.

Because she is mine.