Page 1 of Her Enemy Dragon Captor (Dream Team Shifters #5)

CHAPTER 1

J ane Donovan gripped the steering wheel tightly as she navigated the unfamiliar streets of Greenrock, her phone balanced precariously between her shoulder and ear. The quaint town with its Victorian-style buildings and tree-lined streets was nothing like the concrete jungle of DC she was used to.

"I'm almost at the motel, Carlson," she said, scanning street signs. "Just getting a feel for the layout."

Assistant Director Carlson's voice crackled through the speaker. "Good. Remember, Director Donovan wants daily updates on this one."

Jane suppressed a sigh at the mention of her father. "You mean FBI Director Donovan wants updates, or my dad does?"

"Both, I imagine," Carlson replied, his tone softening slightly. "This is a big opportunity, Jane. If this cult is as dangerous as our intel suggests, exposing them could be a major win for the Bureau—and for you."

"I know." Jane's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "People are going missing, potentially being exploited. I've seen what these organizations can do to vulnerable people firsthand."

The unspoken reference to her sister Melissa hung in the air between them.

"That's why you're perfect for this," Carlson continued. "Your background knowledge of the furry community gives you credibility, and your personal experience gives you motivation."

Jane winced. Her brief foray into the furry community during college—now immortalized in a few embarrassing photos she prayed would never surface—had somehow become her ticket to this assignment.

"Just to be clear, wearing a gecko costume to three conventions in college doesn't make me an expert," she said dryly. "But I can talk the talk well enough to get inside."

"That's all we need. Get established, gather evidence, and find out what's happening to these people. Concentrate especially on any illegal activities—financial fraud, coercion, anything we can use to shut them down." Carlson paused. "And Jane? Be careful. We've lost contact with one informant already."

"Understood." Jane's jaw tightened. "I'll check in tomorrow."

She ended the call and tossed her phone onto the passenger seat, taking the next right turn onto what she hoped was Main Street. The GPS on her phone had been spotty since entering the town limits, another charming quirk of small-town America.

"Where the hell am I?" she muttered, slowing down to peer at a street sign partly obscured by overgrown branches.

Making an impulsive decision to park and ask for directions, Jane pulled over beside a small park. As she stepped out of her car, the crisp autumn air filled her lungs, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and something else she couldn't quite place—something almost electric.

"Lost, dear?"

Jane turned to find an elderly man with twinkling eyes and a gentle smile watching her from a nearby bench. He wore a cardigan and khakis, looking every bit the kindly grandfather figure.

"Is it that obvious?" Jane laughed, slipping effortlessly into her undercover persona – the embodiment of innocent na?ve youth. "I'm looking for the Greenrock Inn. My GPS seems determined to send me in circles." She threw her arms in the air and spun in a little circle to emphasize her plight.

The old man's smile widened. "Technology—more trouble than it's worth sometimes. Unless my memory is going, the inn is just three blocks that way," he pointed, "then a right on Maple, I think it is. You can't miss it."

"Thank you," Jane said, genuinely appreciative. "I'm Lucy, by the way. Just moved here,” she added, effortlessly slipping into her new identity.

"Walter," the man replied, extending a weathered hand which Jane shook. "What brings you to our little corner of nowhere?"

Jane shifted into the cover story she'd rehearsed. "I'm taking some time to find myself," she said with a self-deprecating smile. "Thought a change of scenery might help. I heard Greenrock has an... interesting community."

Something flickered in Walter's eyes—recognition, perhaps—before his expression returned to grandfatherly warmth. "Oh...indeed it does. You might find exactly what you're looking for here," he said, his gaze suddenly more penetrating than seemed appropriate for casual conversation.

Nerves Janey. Calm down.

A small chill ran down Jane's spine despite the pleasant day. "Well, I should get going. Thanks again for the directions."

Walter nodded, watching her with those strangely penetrating eyes. "We'll meet again, I suspect."

Jane smiled politely and turned to leave, making a mental note of the exchange. Something about the old man had felt off, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly what. Perhaps just small-town curiosity about newcomers.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice the hulking figure rounding the corner until it was too late. The collision sent her stumbling backward, her breath catching in her throat. Before she could hit the pavement, strong hands, like bands of steel, clamped onto her upper arms, pulling her upright.

"Whoa there," a deep voice rumbled above her, the sound vibrating through her bones, a low, primal growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

Jane looked up—way up—into the most striking face she'd ever seen. The man towered over her, a titan of a man, his broad shoulders eclipsing the sun, casting her in his shadow. His features were chiseled and severe, a stark, breathtaking beauty. His eyes, an impossible shade of molten amber, burned into hers, holding her captive. Dark hair, cut short with military precision, framed a face that radiated raw power.

And he was still holding her arms.

A jolt of pure, raw heat surged through her, a shocking, electric current that made her gasp. It wasn't just heat; it was recognition, a primal spark that ignited deep within her core, a heat that pooled low in her belly.

She stared at the points of contact, her skin tingling, burning as if branded by his touch, a strange, unwelcome thrum between her legs.

God, what the...

"Sorry," she managed, her FBI training kicking in to mask the chaotic storm raging inside her. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

His amber eyes, like a predator's, studied her with an odd expression—a flicker of surprise, followed by an intensity that made her breath hitch—before he stepped back, releasing her.

"Clearly." His voice was a low growl, a sound that resonated deep within her, stirring something she couldn't name, a dangerous, thrilling vibration.

The curtness of his response sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and something dangerously close to excitement, a forbidden, electric pull that made her core clench. Something about this man set all her instincts screaming, a cacophony of danger and an undeniable, forbidden pull.

"I said I was sorry," Jane replied, her voice tight, trying to regain control. "No need to be rude about it."

His eyebrows rose slightly, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Wasn't trying to be rude. Just stating a fact." His gaze raked over her, not with mere assessment, but with a possessive heat that made her skin prickle, a heat that made her want to squirm. "You're new here."

It wasn't a question. "What gave it away?" Jane asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "The lost expression or the out-of-state plates?"

To her surprise, his stern face cracked into the ghost of a smile. "Both. And it’s a small town. I’d have remembered you." His eyes—which she now noticed were an unusual amber color—narrowed slightly as he looked her over.

What’s that supposed to mean?

It means he isn’t only impolite. He’s downright rude.

Jane crossed her arms, trying to shield herself from his penetrating gaze. "Well, thanks for the warm welcome," she said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

"Trust me, not everyone gets this kind of personal greeting." The way he said it made it clear he didn't consider their collision a fortunate occurrence.

When he didn't offer his name or any further conversation, Jane felt an irrational surge of annoyance. "Well, I should get going. Thanks for not letting me fall," she added, some buried part of her upbringing forcing out the courtesy despite her irritation.

"Word of advice? Keep your eyes open in Greenrock," he said, something almost protective flickering beneath his irritation. "Some people here aren't nearly as pleasant as I am when you crash into them."

Jane blinked, unsure whether to laugh or snap back at him.

Pleasant?

That's what he called that interaction?

Well, I ought to...

Before she could form a coherent thought, his phone buzzed. He checked it, frowned, before giving her another look from head to toe...

Obvious much?

What an asshole.

Then his eyes met hers for a final lingering look, his gaze burning into hers, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and a strange, almost painful throb between her legs.

No. Body, quit. Stop that.

Whatever she obviously had been celibate too long...

Then without another word, he strode away, his powerful frame moving with surprising grace for someone so large.

Jane watched him go, trying to make sense of the exchange and her body's bizarre reaction to him. There was something about him—beyond that very inconvenient warmth spreading in her nether regions—that triggered her investigative instincts.

Focus on the case, not his ass.

Though it is a nice ass.

A nice everything.

Oh my god, stop it.

Right...stay on task. What it was about she wasn’t sure. Just something. She tried her best to file it away, to ignore the insistent pull that tugged at her soul, and the unwelcome heat that still lingered between her thighs. This was not the time to let her hormones, or whatever this was, distract her. Especially not by a man with an attitude like that.

Twenty minutes later, she was settling into her room at the Greenrock Inn, a modest but clean establishment with floral wallpaper that had probably been fashionable sometime during the Clinton administration. She'd unpacked her few belongings and set up her laptop on the small desk by the window, which offered a view of the town's main street.

Home sweet temporary home.

She pulled out the case file she'd compiled and spread the contents across the bed. Reports of missing persons—six in the last year, all with connections to online furry communities. Screenshots from message boards where users described a "transformative experience" awaiting in Greenrock. References to a group simply called "The Alliance" that promised to help members "take their fursona to another level."

Fursona... she had forgotten what being a furry was all about. In truth it had been kind of...liberating, having license to literally embody that side of her. Her gecko side, whatever that was. IT had felt oddly freeing to crawl around on her belly in her fursuit, to lick at the air, to sneak along walls.

Yeah, I’m a total weirdo .

Or course, she would never say any of that out loud at the bureau. Ultimately, she had found other ways to express herself and the whole furry thing turned out to be just a passing phase.

Still, there had been something oddly satisfying about it. She had almost felt like she was connecting to some lost part of herself.

Almost.

And then you grew up, Janie.

But from what she was reading, this group was preying on the need to fit in that many in that community were looking for.

Not culty at all...

Promise belonging, transformation, special knowledge. Create an us-versus-them mentality. Isolate members from their support networks.

All cults used the same basic playbook.

Jane knew the pattern all too well and she had seen first-hand how it could lead impressionable minds down very dark roads...

Her phone buzzed with a text from her contact — “Cindy”, who was apparently a sort of greeter - or maybe groomer was a better term – for the group.

C: So are you all set for tomorrow? It’ll be great. I can’t wait to meet you and tell you more about us!

Jane began to text back:

Yes. Details?... No wait... she erased that and tried again:

Yes! Super excited! Can you send me the details?

C: Of course... Corner of Hudson and Old Pine Road. It’s on the outskirts. There’s a gate, just tell them you are there for orientation... and that Cindy sent you. And wear loose closes. Maybe we will do some exercises!

Orientation? Well, that doesn’t sound ominous...

She texted again: Anything else I need?

C: If you have your fursuit, feel free to bring it! But you don’t have to, of course... Whatever makes you most comfortable!

Jane groaned. She was suddenly thankful she had not held onto her Gecko costume from college.

She typed a quick reply:

Jeans and a tee shirt for me!

C: Sounds good. Okay, good luck tomorrow! You’re gonna love it. Just keep an open mind. Go to the check in desk when you get in, and they’ll take care of you.

She responded:

Oh, I won’t see you?

C: Maybe, I’ll probably be floating around. But we’ll meet at some point for sure. See you tomorrow!

She set her phone down and looked back at the scattered papers on her bed, mentally cataloging what she knew so far. An organization targeting furries, promising some kind of deep transformation. People going missing.

What the hell is going on in this town?

As if I don’t know the answer.

Vulnerable people are being exploited. This time it’s some new-age cult promising spiritual enlightenment.

Somehow, I imagine that will entail having their bank accounts drained as well. Or worse...

Unbidden, her thoughts drifted back to the man in the street. Those strange amber eyes. The unsettling heat when they touched. The way he seemed to be measuring her up.

To decide whether or not he wanted to devour me maybe?

Gross.

Sure, he was hot. Hot as sin actually.

But a total ass. No, Been there. Done that.

Not worth it.

Why am I even thinking about this?

"Get it together, Jane," she muttered to herself. "Focus on the actual case."

Not on Mr. hot and jerky.

Yet somehow his face kept appearing in her mind. The severe set of his jaw. Those weird eyes. The momentary softening of his features when he'd almost smiled.

She shook her head forcefully. This was exactly why she’d had to fight so hard to get this assignment. And here she was, doing it herself! The Bureau generally frowned on sending single female agents on undercover assignments alone. Too easy to get distracted, they said. Too likely to form inappropriate attachments.

Screw that sexist bullshit.

Jane had always scoffed at that notion. She was a professional, for god's sake. She'd never let personal feelings interfere with a case.

And yet... And yet nothing. Get your head in the game, Donovan.

With a frustrated sigh, Jane gathered up her case files and stored them in the room's safe. Tomorrow she would begin the real work of laying more ground work and hopefully infiltrating “The Alliance,” and finding out what they were up to. With any luck she might even locate those missing persons and gather enough evidence to shut down whatever exploitative scheme they were operating.

And if she happened to run into Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Hostile again along the way... well, she'd simply add whatever information she gathered to her growing mental file on Greenrock's mysteries. And absolutely NOT think about those amber eyes again.