Chapter 2
Desmon
I took the buxom beauty’s hand eagerly before she offered it to me, worried I’d frightened her earlier with my snarling. I hadn’t meant to scare her, but her actions had surprised me, and the sound had tumbled from my mouth before I could rein it in. It seemed she was just as surprised by her actions as I was. She certainly hadn’t groped me on purpose.
It had been a while since a female had touched me, accidentally or not.
Her flustered reaction had gone from downright adorable to just this side of erotic when the blush had continued spreading from her rosy cheeks all the way down to her ample bosom. My eyes had lingered there as long as hers had on my crotch. She’d been embarrassed, apologizing profusely, which was really cute. Almost— almost —worth ruining one of my favorite pairs of slacks level of cute.
I wasn’t always in such an amicable mood, but I’d just gotten news of the whereabouts of the last piece of a puzzle I’d been trying to put together. It was the reason why I was in the museum today.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Instead of shaking Carly’s hand, I brought it to my lips and kissed the back, an old habit dating from the time when that was the proper greeting. The tiny, chaste kiss just made her face and decolletage turn an even deeper shade of red.
I reluctantly tore my gaze from her cleavage and up to her face. Hazel eyes met mine from behind a set of faux tortoiseshell frames. A matching tortoiseshell clip pulled her auburn hair back, a few pieces allowed to hang loose to frame her face.
We stared at each other in silence, the air between us sizzling.
Janice’s voice broke the tension. “He’s, um, old-fashioned like that.” Then she turned to me. “Desmon, don’t scare the poor girl. We need her.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I released her hand and put on what I hoped was my least intimidating smile.
Janice was a stockily built, no-nonsense dwarven female who had been with the museum for years. Technically, working the front desk wasn’t her job, but we’d recently lost three naiad sisters who’d found the perfect lake to call home, and the University hadn’t sent in this semester’s detachment of volunteers yet.
Janice had known me for so long she didn’t think of me as the big scary dragon anymore. I was sure it also helped that she was used to dealing with gruff, hard-to-handle male dwarves.
Despite being fully human, Carly was around the same height as Janice, who was considered tall for a dwarf female. Their body composition and shape were very different, however. Janice was short, stocky, and solid. Carly was rounder, softer, and curvier.
I looked away, trying not to think about how pleasant it would be to touch her.
“The school bus just arrived.” Janice sent Carly a smile. “Ready to give your first tour of the day?”
Carly took a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Wonderful! Doors opening in five minutes.”
“I’ll go greet them.” And the redheaded beauty was off, in a swirl of vanilla and spice.
Yummy. I wonder what body wash or perfume she used. My dragon wanted to roll around in it, which was kind of strange; he’d never reacted this way to anyone else before.
Maybe I’d forgive her for the pants after all, if she’d give me a tiny taste—
No ! I shook my head.
I didn’t have time for distractions. Not when I was so close to winning this centuries-long competition.
I made my way out of the staff room and up the wide staircase to my private office, but not before glancing across the foyer for one last look at Carly as she welcomed the museum’s first group of visitors for the day, a class of high schoolers. Those were particularly hard to manage—especially the boys.
Human children at that age were bad enough, but to make matters worse the schools in Darlington had shifters and other monster youngsters mixed in.
Carly adjusted her skirt, tugging the hem down to better cover her plump, shapely legs.
Mmm. Let’s go take a nibble.
I ignored my dragon’s inappropriate suggestion, tore my eyes away, and stomped into my office.
I didn’t come into the museum often. I usually let the people I’d hired run this place, letting my money work for me. My only real decision was which pieces from my hoard the museum would share with the world each season. Almost everything on display at the Darlington Museum was part of my hoard, except, of course, for the artifacts we periodically got on loan from other museums.
Not everything in my hoard was destined for display, however; there were many special pieces I kept only for myself, locked away in my cave of wonders. Like most Dragons, I still kept my most valued pieces hidden the old-fashioned way: in a cave that no one knew about. It had worked for millennia. Why fix a system that wasn’t broken?
Today, a statue was arriving from the Louvre. It was only on loan to us, of course, and had come a long way. But more importantly, it held a vital clue to locating a treasure I’d been coveting for centuries. If I found this artifact, I’d win the competition I’d been participating in for the past three centuries.
I’d always known where this statue had been hiding and the secrets it held, but I’d never known how to access those secrets until now.
I knew for a fact that no one had ever bothered to X-ray this statue as it wasn’t a particularly famous piece. Therefore, they didn’t know about the secret compartment inside. I only knew about it myself because of the competition. I had no clue where this compartment was hidden on the statue, but I did know that the key to access this compartment was also on its way to us even now.
Dragons lived a long time, and as such, we often passed the time by participating in friendly…and not-so-friendly…competitions and games. Normally, I was the one placing the bets. This time, I was one of the participants being wagered on.
This particular competition had been going on between me and a rival dragoness for such a long time that I was ready for it to be over. The goal was to be the first to collect four rare artifacts. There were six in total, but the winner only had to collect four.
There was no prize for the winner, but there was a punishment for the loser: A hundred years of sleep. It wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, but a lot could change in a century. For example, that cute little human I’d just met would be long gone if I slept for a hundred years.
I checked my messages again and grumbled impatiently. Why didn’t we just airlift the wretched thing directly here? Then again, if I treated this statue any differently from other museum trades, it would look suspicious and the dragoness might suspect something.
I wanted everyone to think that this was just two museums routinely loaning each other goods. It was one of the reasons why I’d started this museum in the first place: I needed a front for this kind of activity. It was only later on that I realized that treasures hidden away forever weren’t worth nearly as much as artifacts admired, evaluated and appraised by human eyes.
Because of the museum, I’d gone from a nobody dragon to one of the richest ones in history. It wasn’t because I had more in my hoard than other dragons. Not at all. It was because my collection had arbitrary, man-made values assigned to many of the pieces because I’d put them on display.
Of course, there were parts of my hoard I would never show to the public. They were too valuable to risk and it was best if no one knew I had them. For example, I could never display the three artifacts I’d already collected for the competition until I’d actually won. I was so close to finding the last one I could taste it.
The mobile device on my desk vibrated with a message from the courier. Apparently the statue was going to be late because there was an accident on the road. I wondered briefly if it was Gillisandra messing with my plans, but then I reminded myself that she had no idea the clue was in this particular statue.
I started pacing my office before deciding to step onto the museum’s beautifully planted wrap-around balcony to get some fresh air. I never made it. I did, however, find myself tailing a certain new hire and a group of kids.
I’d expected Carly to struggle to get a class mainly of boys interested in history, but I was wrong. Her students were fully engaged and raptly attentive. Curious, I listened in on her tour.
“Anyone want to guess how many heads were decapitated during this battle?”
“A hundred!” shouted one of the boys excitedly.
“More than that,” she said. “According to the records, a whopping one hundred and eighty heads rolled that day! And the battle itself only lasted fifteen minutes! I know this isn’t math class, but can anyone tell me how many were beheaded every minute?”
I grinned.
No wonder the boys were listening. She was speaking their language. A quick look at the teacher following behind, however, showed she was less thrilled about the topic of conversation.
One smart aleck pulled out his cell phone and did the calculation quickly.
“Twelve!” he called out.
Lucky kids. Back in my day, I had to do everything in my head. I didn’t have phones with built-in calculators to rely on. Which was why I really had to win this competition. The last twenty years had seen such quick advances in technology that it felt as though I’d miss everything if I even dared to blink.
Combine current speed of technology with the recent disappearance of The Wall the next few decades would move fast. I didn’t know what would happen in the next decade, never mind the next century.
Carly led the group to another display of weapons, and the boys ohhed and ahhed.
“Does anyone know what this is?“ she asked.
“Oh, that’s easy! It’s a morning star. My video game character has one,” said one of the kids.
“That’s right. And can anyone tell me the difference between a morning star and a mace?”
This stumped the boys, so she explained that a mace was a club with a weighted end, and a morning star was a mace with the addition of spikes. Then she continued to talk about the weapon on display and the history behind it.
I actually didn’t know much about the historical details of the pieces on display here, despite owning them. Like many dragons, I didn’t care about the history of lesser beings. I owned these pieces simply because my dragon said, “Oooh, look, shiny,” and immediately tucked them away.
Throughout the centuries, my dragon’s tastes had changed, sometimes preferring sparkly things like gemstones and jewels, other times preferring intricate metalwork. I even underwent a “uniquely shaped carvings” phase, many of which were undeniably phallic. I wondered if Carly had found her way to that section of the museum yet. It wasn’t part of the itinerary for school tours.
I continued following the group, staying just out of sight until my phone buzzed. I left my museum’s newest hire reluctantly and made my way to the loading dock at the back of the museum. The statue was here!