Page 3 of Tempting Her Dragons (Embracing The Bond #10)

Chapter Three

Saphira

I ’m going to kill whoever is banging on my door. I reluctantly push my blankets to my feet and jump out of bed. I grab a robe before leaving my room, shrugging into it as I walk to the door. My senses are coming alive after my initial pull from sleep, so I know who the culprit is for my rude awakening.

Fuck.

I yank open the door. “You both know how much I value my sleep.” I lean against the edge of the frame. I know why they are here, but I’m hoping by some miracle, they haven’t heard.

“We do,” they say simultaneously, pushing their way inside.

“What’s so important?” I roll my eyes and shut the door, facing them.

“How was work last night?” Laken asks seriously.

“You must have had a bad night,” Bishop says, his face concerned, but they can’t fool me.

“Let’s not pretend.” I walk around my brothers and move to the kitchen. “Say it while I make coffee.”

“We thought we would get your version,” Laken says as they follow.

“Instead of Ryker’s version,” Bishop adds.

“Is Ryker still mad?” I ask, turning on the coffee pot.

“Ryker is Ryker,” Laken grumbles.

“He forgot about it when he went home,” Bishop says, and I look over my shoulder with a raised brow. “He found it funny once the humans’ memories were changed.”

“Laken, you can’t lecture me,” I point out, angrily sliding a pod into the machine.

“I can’t?”

“No, you know why.” I grimace at their protective brother stares. “Alright, it wasn’t smart, but the guy was asking for it.”

“I’m sure he was,” Bishop says.

“But that’s when you tell the vampires that own the club, and they kill the guy. Or they call your brothers, and we kill him,” Laken says.

“Or,” I start, slamming my cup down. “Your dragon shifter sister takes care of the asshole.”

“Sis, we worry,” Bishop says.

“We don’t want you to get hurt.” Laken steps beside me, putting his hand over mine. “We want you protected at all times.”

“I know.” I lean my head on his shoulder. “I love you both for it, but sometimes I can fight my own battles.” I have to tell them what I do, but the words get stuck in my throat. How would I start? Just letting you know I kill men in my spare time.

“It’s hard for us to allow that,” Bishop admits. “We didn’t do our jobs as your brothers well for years.” I can’t tell them now—they will freak out. I’ll have to work up to it.

“That’s not true,” I deny. We all handled the death of our parents in different ways.

“It is,” Laken agrees with Bishop. He ruffles my hair. “How did it feel? Setting his hair on fire.”

“Fucking fantastic,” I say, my laughter muffled by his shirt.

“I wish I could have seen it,” Laken says.

“We’re supposed to be giving a lecture,” Bishop reminds him.

“We’ve never been great at those,” Laken says.

I lift my head, propping my chin on his chest. “The smell was awful.”

“I remember,” Laken grins.

“Did it all go up in flames? Or just some?” Bishop says, his humor locked behind twinkling eyes. I ease back and purse my lips.

“All of it,” I whisper before laughing. “It went woosh .” I slide my hand over my head.

“Shit. I’m sure he won’t return to the club,” Bishop says.

“Probably not,” I say when I get control of my humor. “Where’s Penny?”

“She is cooking,” Laken says.

“She won’t let us hire a cook,” Bishop says, sitting on the stool.

“Why would you think she would?” I ask, bending down to sniff the coffee as it drips into the cup.

“She’s pregnant,” Laken says, crossing his arms.

“So?”

“So she could get hurt.” He glares as if I made the decision not to hire a cook.

“Cooking?” I wrinkle my nose.

“Possibly,” he says.

“Oh, please. How long have women been having babies?”

“She needs to rest,” Bishop says.

“You both are ridiculous,” I say. “How about you volunteer to make her a meal? Without demanding she sits,” I suggest. “She isn’t helpless. She is a dragon and is having a baby dragon.” I move to the fridge to get the creamer. “Rub her feet after she makes a fucking meal if she’s determined to cook.” I pour a steady stream of creamy vanilla, my mouth watering in anticipation of the first sip. “Order out and have a movie night. How did you get her to agree to mate with you? Do that.”

“You don’t want to hear what we did,” Laken retorts with a rare joke.

“Yuck, don’t tell me.” I wrap my hands around my cup and slowly bring it to my lips. They’re in a good mood; I should tell them before someone else does.

“Are you working tonight?” Bishop asks, looking at his watch.

“Yep,” I reply, sipping and closing my eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be there?”

“What?” I blink, twisting my head to the clock on the microwave. “Oh, fuck.”

“We thought you had the night off.” Laken takes the coffee cup I shove in his direction.

“I only got one sip,” I cry, running towards my room. I should have been at work thirty minutes ago. I slam the door and dive into my closet. Luckily, Ryker lets us wear whatever we want, but I should have picked out an outfit last night. I have to show a man the error of his ways after work.

I tap my lip while staring at my clothes. What says, ‘waitress and torturous queen?’

Leather pants?

Ripped jeans?

Maybe a flirty dress that says, ‘ Yes, I can be girly and kill you.’

“Just pick something,” Bishop says through the door, and I grimace.

I am so not a good waitress.

I broke all traffic laws, and my tires squealed as I parked behind the club. I lock my car and run to the back door, biting my lip, my eyes glued to the hot coffee in my hand. I would have gotten here sooner, but I took the time to stop and get coffee. On the way, I called Rach, the nice coyote shifter who works there, and she had my order ready to go. I need to take her up on her offer to take me out for a meal. She seems sweet, and I could always use another friend. We have graduated from polite greetings while I’m waiting for my coffee to sharing bits and pieces about our lives. Nothing too serious. We finally took the plunge: exchanging numbers. We’ve texted a bit, but haven’t followed through with our promise to meet outside the coffee shop.

I decided on the leather pants. I love how they feel against my skin, and they make my legs look even longer, and they hug my ass perfectly. My shirt is red, long-sleeved, tight at the waist, but loose across my neck so one side falls off my shoulder. I left my hair down but brought a hair tie. I don’t want to get blood in my hair later.

I haul ass down the hallway and screech to a halt. Ryker is standing at the end. It doesn’t look like he cares what I’m wearing.

“I’m sorry,” I yell. “Blame my brothers. They woke me up and decided to give me shit.” I cringe at the weak excuse. He glances at the cup in my hand and I smile sheepishly.

“It seems I should be thanking them,” he drawls. “They woke you.”

“True, true,” I whisper. I widen my eyes, making sure to blink a few times. “Am I fired?”

He narrows his eyes. “My mate is the only one who can pull that trick on me.” He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “You aren’t fired.”

“Thank you, you won’t regret it,” I gush. “You’re the best.” I’m lucky; I don’t need a job for the money. Micah and my brothers have supplied me with everything I need and the woman I considered a mother left me enough to be comfortable for the rest of my life. I work a regular job to feel a little normal after a life filled with unusual experiences.

“I’m sure I will regret it,” he mumbles. “But you are family.”

“That’s so sweet.” I hold my hand over my heart.

“Do your brothers know of your other job yet?” he asks.

“Umm…” I roll my eyes away from his probing stare. I’m not ready to share with my brothers what I’ve been up to.

“That’s a no.”

“I thought we bonded while in the dungeon,” I say. Micah killed a shifter in Ryker’s dungeon a few months ago while we watched. Afterwards, I helped Ryker get rid of the body. He did most of it and I chattered, my rapid-fire questions annoying him.

“They will find out.”

“From you?”

“No.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Listen, I admire what you are doing,” he starts. “But it’s not smart.” He leans toward me. “You can be the most powerful shifter in the world, but it doesn’t mean you don’t need backup. I’ve been around a while. Shit happens. Be smart and have someone with you.”

I narrow my eyes. “Is it because I’m a woman?”

“Of course not,” he says. “I don’t give a shit what gender you are. Have backup.”

“I understand. I just don’t think they’ll understand.” I shake off my defensiveness.

“You have my number,” he says.

“Yes.”

“If you ever get in trouble, call it,” he instructs.

“I will, Ryker. Promise.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Because I don’t think waitressing is your dream job.”

My lips curve. “Probably not.”

“You will have a place here, always. No matter how late you are,” he says dryly.

“Thanks, boss.”

“You’ve worked with Heath,” he states.

“Yes,” I say cautiously.

“You don’t know what he is,” he says.

“No, and he won’t clue me in,” I pout.

“He won’t.” He turns his head toward the bar. “I remembered smelling something long ago that smelled like him.”

“Are you kidding?” I ask, moving closer.

“No.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s his story to tell.” He looks into my eyes. “When he’s ready.”

“Damn,” I pout.

“How about I tell you if you come to work on time for a month straight?” He tilts his head.

“Fuck, no fair.” I lived most of my life without a schedule; I’m not great with restrictions.

“Right.” He stands straight. “There are tables to serve,” he says, waving his arm.

I stomp around him. He’s right about so many things, and it’s annoying.

“Wait,” he says, and I turn. “Janet called in sick. She sounds like shit, but I took the opportunity to ask her about the asshole customer. The cold medicine helped her relax enough to tell me. It will be taken care of.” His eyes swirl dangerously and I would be running for my life if it was directed at me.

“Thank you,” I say, and he nods. I planned on speaking with her tonight.

“Work?” he says when I don’t move.

“Of course.” I smile widely and turn away. I’m glad Ryker is one of the good guys, unlike most of the men I deal with.

My brothers will be upset that I have hidden part of my life from them. They will lecture and ask questions that I don’t want to answer. Then they will insist I quit killing bad guys. I’m not looking forward to the lecture about my safety. They are hypersensitive about my well-being since I have moved here to stay. When that doesn’t work, they will insist on accompanying me, ruining my groove. Penny needs to be their focus. She needs her mates beside her, not helping me rid the world of abusive men. Penny would be the first one to encourage me; she is badass.

I weave through the crowd in my six-inch high boots, avoiding the grinding bodies dancing to the beat. I dim my hearing since the band seems extra loud tonight.

Most shifters can muffle their enhanced hearing. I’ve had enough practice over the years. The noise of the world can become grating on the ears.

I grab a tray and slide it across the bar to my favorite bartender as I quickly guzzle my coffee.

“Busy?” I ask, licking the coffee from my lips. He looks up from the drink he is making with a smile.

“Always.” He finishes pouring and places it in front of a customer before moving back to me. “Late?”

“Always,” I grin.

“Ryker has a soft spot for you.” Janson is a lion shifter and a great guy.

“Maybe, or he’s afraid of my fire.”

“Right. I don’t think that’s it,” he says.

“What tables are mine?” I ask, and he slides a card across the bar with a list.

“Thanks.” I memorize the numbers and put it in my pocket. “Would you toss this?” I ask, sliding my cup toward him. As he nods and takes it, I wave at him and turn. So many people. My phone vibrates on my butt. When I slide it out, Rach’s name is lit up.

“Hello,” I answer, a little surprised.

“I know you were heading to work, and I don’t want to bother you,” she says, and I lean back against the bar.

“No worries,” I say and ignore the snort behind me. I look over my shoulder and glare, communicating to Janson he shouldn’t eavesdrop. “Did I forget to pay?”

“Nothing like that,” she rushes to say. “Are you busy after work? I thought we could grab a drink.” I turn back to the dance floor.

“I wish I could.” I can’t tell her I have plans to kill someone. “I usually work really late.”

“I’ll be here a couple more hours since the owner extended them. Everyone loves coffee,” she laughs.

“I feel for you, but I can understand the love,” I say dryly. “Can we do it another night?”

“Oh, sure. Let me know when you’re free.”

“Great. I will give you a call.” I’m glad she took the initiative and called. Maybe tomorrow night we could meet. I’m excited to get to know her more.

“Talk later. Have a good night.”

“Bye,” I say, end the call, and twist around. “Not a word,” I growl, pointing my phone at him.

“Did I say anything?” he asks, raising his brows and his eyes crinkle. I roll my eyes and move toward the crowd.

My mind isn’t on the call or the drinks ordered but on my mark for the night; I can multitask.

Maxwell. A forty-year-old man who is on his third wife. He told his family he was going on a business trip, but he lied as he does every day. He owns a second home where he lures his victims. He will be there planning his moves on his newest wife’s daughter. There have been five other young girls he has abused. I’ve seen their pictures and the consequences of his sick acts. He gets what he wants and moves. Changing his name, his appearance, and his wives. The girls are too terrified to say anything. He picks girls who are timid and lack self-confidence. He plays the doting dad, giving compliments, buying them pretty things, and brainwashing them into thinking he is the safe, kind man he portrays.

That’s when he does the unthinkable.

Today will be the last day he lives. He’s in the final stage. He’ll go to his cave, preparing it for his captive.

Sure, I could give all the evidence I dug up to the police and hope they catch him before he does more damage, but things could go wrong. He could get a great lawyer. The girls could be too scared to talk. The people he convinces that he is an upstanding guy could testify for him.

Too many ways he could get off with nothing.

Instead, I’m going to teach him a lesson. The last one he will learn.

“Love the pants,” a guy says. I blink at the table of men in front of me. “You new here?”

I place their drinks in front of them. “Anything else?” I ask. I get it. I work in a bar and should expect a level of flirting. Usually I can brush it off, unless they cross a line.

“Your number,” he smirks.

“Does that work?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“What?” He smirks and drops his hand to my arm.

“Does that line work?” He stares at me, and I look at his fingers curling around my arm. “I mean, come on. I am serving you drinks. I’m doing my job, not scoping for a man.”

“Fuck, forget it,” he sneers, but his hand remains.

“Look, asshole—” I forgot what I was going to say. My body has frozen as I feel a presence coming toward my back. Two scents. Two men. My mates.

My heart thuds in my ears, and a heat washes over me. I close my eyes and breathe in their delicious dragon scent. One is wild; he smells like fresh air. The other is just as wild but smells like pure leather.

A body presses against my back, his hand treading through my hair, and I drop my head back against his shoulder. I open my eyes and watch his other hand grab the man’s arm and twist it until he releases me.

“No,” he says, bending the man’s arm back. I hear a pop. “No one touches her.” The drunk guy screams and holds his broken arm to his chest.

“What’s your name?” someone asks. I turn my head to the right and see my other mate.

“Saphira,” I say.

“Maverick,” he says. “Kingston is holding you.”

Holy fuck. Maverick has brown hair with blonde streaked through it that brushes the tops of his ears. His blue eyes are piercing in their intensity, watching me carefully. He’s tall but doesn’t tower over me and has just the right amount of muscle. His jeans are worn, as are his boots. He’s wearing a white T-shirt with an unbuttoned black and red flannel over it. My mouth goes dry with the need to touch him. His hands casually slip into his pockets, and his pose is deceptive in its casualness. There is power in his stance.

Kingston’s hand flexes in my hair and I remember I haven’t moved from his arms.

“You crazy asshole,” the customer yells, and we draw attention.

“I’m in the regret stage,” Ryker’s voice cuts through my fog of lust.

“I bet I’m fired now.” I pull away quickly and then regret the loss of the warmth of my mate. My breath becomes shallow as I turn to keep all the men around me in sight.

Kingston. Maverick moves beside him, a wall of sexy dragons. Kingson’s dark blonde hair is shaved close on the sides but it’s long on the top and brighter. His eyes match his hair; the gold flecks swirl with heat. I want to run my fingers over the scruff on his jaw. He is slightly shorter than Maverick, but their builds are similar. Kingston is wearing jeans with rips in the knees and a black T-shirt tight across his chest. His right wrist is wrapped in a rope he wears like a bracelet.

I’m curious why, and I want to lick the tattoos on Maverick’s skin.

“Saph,” Ryker snaps.

“Huh?” I turn my dazed eyes his way.

“What the fuck is going on?” The frustration is evident in his voice. I look from him to my mates and the customer in pain.

“Another man touched me without permission,” I explain shortly.

“Another?” Kingston rumbles.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ryker asks him.

“Friends,” I blurt louder than called for, and they all look at me. “Friends from out of town. They surprised me.” I shrug weakly, and thankfully, my mates say nothing. I need time without my brothers interfering to adjust to my new reality.

“Friends,” Ryker says slowly. “Dragon friends.”

“Yep.” I smile. “They showed up when this guy decided he wanted to hit on me and grabbed my arm. Kingston is protective of our…” I lick my lips. “Friendship. He didn’t like him touching me. I’m sorry. I realize I’m really fired this time. I’ll take my friends and go. I will sternly lecture Kingston on his behavior, and he will never hurt anyone in your club again.” I pull in a deep breath and grab Kingston’s hand, and the air leaves my lungs in a rush.

Fuck, that’s powerful. I try to pull away, but he laces his fingers with mine, staring at our joined hands.

“You are so full of shit,” Ryker mutters to me but stares at my mates.

“Are you going to allow the bitch to get away with this?” the guy says wildly. It’s my turn to tighten my grip to hold Kingston back and look sharply at Maverick to keep him in place, before turning my attention back to Ryker.

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryker says dangerously to the table of pissed men. “You will leave my club and never come back. One of your buddies broke your arm while all of you were drunk.” His gaze travels over each of them, using his influence on the group. “You won’t remember being here or the woman and her—” He rolls his eyes my way. “Friends. Go now.” They all get up at the same time and walk away. “Saph—”

“Sorry. So, so sorry. We will go, and I won’t ask to be paid.”

“Shit. You aren’t fired. You can leave for the night, and I’ll pay you for the whole night.”

“Ryker,” I whisper.

“Do you trust your friends?” he asks.

“Yes.” The bond is starting rapidly, and even though I don’t know shit about them, I know they wouldn’t hurt me.

“Go. I don’t want to know anything. When anyone asks, I won’t have to lie,” he says, and I know he’s talking about my brothers. “If you don’t text me to check in by the end of the night, I won’t be so generous,” he warns.

“Got it,” I say quickly.

“You don’t want me to involve Micah,” he threatens. “And neither do they.”

“No,” I say, swallowing hard. He nods at me and then glares at the silent men beside me before disappearing into the crowd.

“Saphira,” Maverick says.

“Wait,” I say. “Come with me.” I pull on the hand holding mine and speed-walk to the front door.

I have two mates.

It’s not something I can deny.

What the fuck should I do about it?