Chapter 3 How to Kill a Dragon #2
Without thinking, I shrugged into the suit jacket and felt even more like a fool. My naked dick swung between my legs, but at least I was suited up. I could almost hear the proverbial goblins cackle.
The omega was still looking at me, unblinking. Was he a little green in the face, or was it the effect of the dim lights lining my lawn?
When he convulsed and heaved, I had my answer. He vomited loudly, gasped a few times, and threw up again.
Shit.
I hurried to his side, supporting him with one arm around his chest. Putting my hand on his forehead, I waited as he dry-heaved some more.
“You’re safe. I got you. Nobody’s kidnapping anyone.”
Wiping his mouth, he threw me a look like I was crazy.
“Where am I?”
I pointed at my house. “My home.”
“Do you drink whiskey?”
Ignoring his non sequitur, I sniffed his messy, sweaty hair. The dragon rattled the cage.
Mate.
Which was impossible, but I’d deal with that nonsense later. Now that I was human again, the dragon’s voice was weaker, easier to ignore.
“Can you walk?”
He clambered to his feet and blinked up at me.
His gaze was sharp, and he looked exquisite without his mask.
Full lips, big, almost turquoise eyes framed by long lashes, geometrically perfect eyebrows, straight smallish nose, regal bone structure.
I vaguely recognized his features. He looked like one of those men on billboards downtown, like he fell out of a perfume or underwear ad.
Except he was way prettier than those airbrushed wax figurines.
I was staring into the single most beautiful face I had ever seen up close. Even with the smeared makeup and tears, pale and sick, the omega looked fairylike. And he seemed admirably alert under the circumstances.
“You?!” He stepped back, but I kept my hand on his biceps, unwilling to let go of him. He ripped his arm away, swaying before he found his footing, standing with his legs and arms spread as if he needed the extra support to keep himself upright. He shook his head disbelievingly.
“It is you.” He sounded outraged. Considering how hard I’d made him come earlier, I would have expected him to be less disappointed in seeing me again. Maybe it was the toothy muzzle that put him off.
“My name is Davidson Sullivan.”
I wanted him to feel safer, but was it thoughtless of me to say my real name like that?
Nobody would believe him if he claimed that I was a dragon who’d demolished a back alley and flown him to his mansion in the woods.
On the other hand, he could tell the media that Davidson Sullivan frequented kinky parties, which could become an issue.
But something told me that my omega already had too many problems on his plate and wouldn’t waste his time blabbing to the tabloids.
Grimacing, he unceremoniously spat out some saliva—understandable after vomiting all over my lawn. He briefly scanned his surroundings before looking me up and down.
“You’re naked.”
“I have a jacket.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to point it out.
He gestured to my groin with a shaking hand. “That’s a dick.”
“Yes. Are you in shock?”
“It’s huge, but no.”
That took me a second. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant!” he snapped, throwing his arms in the air, his long coat fluttering around his slim body.
“Two gorillas with guns tried to kidnap me, and then a freaking pterodactyl picked me up on the street and flew me here, into the middle of nowhere. So yeah, maybe I am in shock. I don’t know.
You tell me, Mr. I-Have-a-Jacket, should I be in shock? ”
“Davidson is the name. And you’ve been picked up by a dragon, not a pterodactyl.”
“A dragon.”
“Yes. A dragon shifter to be precise.”
He glowered at me, but his chin trembled, ruining the effect of his otherwise impressive bitch face. “I don’t give a shit about which species of hallucination it was. Seems I’ll wake up with the hangover of a lifetime tomorrow, and for that, I need my bed and bathroom. I want to go home.”
I would have laughed because Mr. Chase had a sharp wit to go with his staggering beauty. Except there was nothing laughable about his predicament.
“The men who tried to take you. Do they know where you live?”
He froze, his pale face going blank. Then he dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, kneading. “Fuck. Shit. Fucking fuck.”
What was the protocol here? I’d brought him here, and now what?
Would he accept if I invited him inside?
Would he tell me who’d tried to take him and why?
Could I do something to protect him? Should I even care?
The idea of letting him leave and never seeing him again made me red-hot mad.
I clenched my fists. It was imperative I got him inside my home.
The dragon paced, itching for a fight, his instincts all over the place.
He needed the omega safe, in my home. We found a rare gem.
Let’s bring it to the lair and lock the doors.
Yeah, right. I tried to be rational and think around the haze of fury and want.
“Could they have tracked your phone?”
My omega shook his head, still hiding his face in his palms. “They must have followed me to the club and waited for me outside.”
“So they might know where you live.”
Suddenly, he faltered, clearly about to fall, and I hurried to catch his elbow. He flinched away at first, but then he leaned on me heavily.
“To answer your earlier question, yes, I do have whiskey,” I said. “And you need it. Let’s get you inside.”
He stumbled by my side, trembling all over. Out of all my conquests, I’d messed this one up in the worst way, hadn’t I?
“Will you…eat me?” he asked after a few steps, sounding like he meant it.
“I already did. You were delicious.”
He groaned at my stupid joke. “The thing you were before…”
“A dragon. No, I don’t feed on people.”
“That’s what you’d say, of course.”
“If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have already done it.”
“Unless you want to grab some toppings with your dinner.”
This time I couldn’t help it and laughed. “I do like my steak with all the trimmings, not going to lie. But I’m sure you taste much better alive than dead.”
He scoffed but let me lead him into the house.
I pulled out my phone from my jacket pocket and used the app to hit the lights in the atrium. I chose the dimmed evening setting so as not to blind my guest. He gazed around, gasping audibly.
“Why is everything black?”
“Um. Personal taste.”
“Are you a psychopath?”
Why did his insult make me chuckle? “I hope not.”
“So you change into a giant reptile—”
“Dragon.”
“Whatever. You change into a dragon, frequent sex clubs, and your house is decorated like a goth funeral home…” He trailed off, slowing down his already sluggish pace.
“And you are wondering whether you’re better off with me or out there with Fabio’s goons on your heels?”
He sucked in a breath at my use of the name.
“How do you know about him?”
“I heard you say the name in the alley.”
He nodded to himself, as if the answer had appeased him. “I need the whiskey. I don’t want to throw up again.”
“This way.” I brought him to the living room, using my phone to engage the alarm on all the entry doors to the house. I usually didn’t bother when I was at home, but today, I wouldn’t take any chances.
I sat my omega on the sofa by the pool bar and poured him his drink.
He took a large gulp and grimaced, looking me up and down.
“Could you put on some pants? It’s distracting.”
Oh right. My dick was still showing, and the jacket must have made me look especially ridiculous.
Except I didn’t want to let Mr. Chase out of my sight. Not even for a minute. I reminded myself the doors were secure and the alarm would go off if he tried to leave.
Deliberately slowly, I walked out of the living room, my neck prickling with awareness.
Then I took the stairs three at a time. I dragged on the first pair of pants I found, black jeans, and unlocked my phone.
Because there was a good chance that with his face, Mr. Chase had done something to land him a place in browser searches.
He did look familiar, but I would have remembered someone so beautiful.
Staring at the blank screen of the browser, I suddenly connected the dots. The cover model at the office a few days ago. Was that him? Blond lashes, deep-blue eyes, the birthmark above his lip. What were the chances?
I swiftly typed the keywords.
Chase, omega, model, Dalton City
The first few results were ridiculous. Career advice on becoming a model. No, thank you. Chasing models. Ugh. And then…
Leonard Chase
I clicked on the underwear ad image and stared, open-mouthed. Was he even human?
His lips were parted, eyelids drooping, his expression undeniably sexual.
He was wearing white lace briefs and an open white dress shirt, one nipple showing.
Big, puffy, pink nipple. It must have been smeared with some oil for the photoshoot because it glistened.
With one hand, he cupped his smooth belly.
The ad basically screamed, “Breed me!” Holy fucking insanity. I quickly saved the image to my phone.
The information online about Leonard Chase was abundant.
Seven-year-long modeling career, a beauty brand with its base in Dalton City, and a line of erotic lingerie.
Named by some magazines as the most beautiful omega in the country three years in a row, followed by a few dating scandals, and substance abuse allegations.
And… Huh. Relinquished control of his businesses and disappeared from public life earlier this year, rumored to be abroad or in rehab.
So that was why he looked familiar. Even though I didn’t follow any gossip magazines and didn’t have use for the products he promoted, I’d glimpsed his face before, maybe even several times.
He obviously wasn’t abroad or in rehab.