Dangerous Dreams: A Novella (Obsidian Flame Book 1) Read online

  “I find myself rapidly developing an interest in the color red,” Rafael said.

  Her cheeks warmed. What the hell? “Are you seriously flirting with me?”

  “Like it?”

  “No.” Yes. Oh gawd, yes. His thick hair begged her hands to run through it. Her mouth grew dry, as if she needed to taste his full lips and feel his tongue run along hers to quench her thirst.

  “As you wish, Miss Stone.” He shrugged. “We will keep this strictly professional.” A flash of keen intelligence wiped away his lazy look. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to her. While he moved to his desk and waved to an empty chair on the other side, she unfolded the paper.

  Dates. Times. Places.

  His goddamned schedule.

  The abrupt change in demeanor along with the respectful look he assessed her with from his office chair sent a sheet of ice along her spine.

  She’d passed a test.

  The attraction he’d shown earlier, the heated looks, the playful lips—all of it an act. Forget the Astarot title. Rafael Dragoi could’ve been a very successful actor.

  She smiled tightly, gripped the schedule, and took a seat. Her pants creaked, and pulled against her skin. Leather might be a great wardrobe for blood spatter, but it had serious limitations for stressful meetings.

  “Did I pass?” She continued to study his chiseled face.

  His eyes widened slightly, and his lips twitched. “Your boss assured me of your impartiality, but I couldn’t risk having the woman entrusted with my safety swooning at my feet or being one of those who harbor grand…ideas…about the Astarot.”

  Especially, if the girlfriend role was all an act and he’d go back to his man-whoring ways the second the assignment ended.

  Tightness gripped her chest. Why did that thought bother her? No dragon shifters. No mate. No way. No how. Remember?

  She crossed her legs, squeezed her thighs together, and shrugged the irritating feeling away. “Rest easy, Romeo. I’m not planning to throw myself at you.”

  Liar, her dragon cackled.

  “Then this will work well.” He adjusted his tie. “Now time for me to disclose the pertinent information.”

  Lara hoped he was right, and the arrangement found success. Rafael appeared to want nothing to do with a relationship, and she wanted to keep her distance. Maybe this could work after all.

  Rafael’s smile grew and his green eyes sparkled. His masculine scent circled around her along with his potent magic. Her pulse thumped heavy in her limbs.

  Then again, maybe not.

  Chapter Three

  Raf watched Lara from across his desk. Her sculpted brows punched in as she listened to the information and the general plan for her to shadow him and prevent any further attacks. A light dusting of freckles, mostly faded, dotted her nose and cheekbones. She could’ve hidden them with makeup, but Raf liked her natural look. Her face repeatedly drew his attention.

  Lick, his dragon preened. Taste.

  Raf cleared his throat. Normally his dragon remained quiet and aloof as far as women were concerned, content as long as his sexual needs were fed. Yet, the moment Miss Lara Stone stomped into his office, both he and his dragon had been on edge and inexplicably mesmerized by this delectable creature.

  Her green eyes had a feline slant. Beautiful, with high cheekbones, dimples, and full lips. Dark red hair framed her heart-shaped face. Not his normal type—she’d been right about that—but, he found his tastes changing rapidly.

  He hadn’t been acting.

  Petite, but ruthless. If all accounts were correct, Lara had deadly aim with the handgun holstered at her hip, and if facing a magical attack, her sword and magic were as dangerous.

  Guilt stabbed his gut. Why did he hold back information from a professional bodyguard? She passed the groupie test. She knew her stuff.

  She’ll balk when she discovers your plans, his dragon snickered.

  Do you have a better idea? he snapped back at his dragon.

  No. I love your strategy for tonight more than ever.

  His dragon spoke true, but her balking only accounted for part of his hesitation. Though a competent professional, he wanted to ensure Lara’s trustworthiness before he revealed the second part of his plan. He also needed to find out why Herb Burns from VIP Security had attempted to talk him out of hiring her.

  “So, any known enemies?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. Her sweet red lips twitched. “Aside from the Dragoi dating rejects?”

  Ah yes. Herb probably worried her sass would anger him. Raf didn’t find it off-putting. He found it refreshing. In a sea of “Yes, sir,” “Of course, sir,” and “Anything you want, Raf,” a little sass went a long way. He’d never wanted to be Astarot to begin with. In a world of ruthless dragons, though, he had little choice if he wanted to keep his family and his best friend protected.

  Raf drummed his fingers on the smooth surface of the desk. Any known enemies? “Many.”

  “Let’s start with the women, then.”

  “It’s not one of them.”

  “Why not? Because they’re too enamored with your winning personality to wish you harm?”

  He shook his head. “But it’s not them.”

  “Let me decide that. Any of your ex-whatevers have magic capabilities or the means to hire someone?”

  Raf sat back and laced his fingers together. “Only a few had magic of their own, but they all have the means.”

  Lara snorted.

  “Something funny?”

  “I’m definitely not your type.” She waved at her outfit, fitted leather that showed off her shapely legs. She shook her head, red hair flashing in the streams of sunlight. “Did the contract negotiate a stipend for a new wardrobe?”

  His brow furrowed. What the hell did she mean? He glanced at her tight, curvy body again, deliciously accentuated by supple fighting leather.

  Peel it off, his dragon growled. Lick her. Bite her. Make her ours.

  Raf shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His dragon had never said that before.

  Ever.

  Not even with Hilary, the dragon shifter he dated for a short time. Everyone assumed they’d claim each other—since he was the Astarot and female dragon shifters were scarce—but it hadn’t worked out. Sure, not all dragon shifter couples were true mates, but the relationship never felt right. And Hilary…

  His dragon yawned.

  Exactly.

  “Astarot?”

  “I’ll provide you with whatever you need,” he said.

  His dragon stretched, content, before curling up.

  Heck, Raf would’ve agreed to anything this woman wanted.

  And that’s what scared him.

  Chapter Four

  Lara pulled down on the jersey knit dress and ignored the urge to rip off the clingy clothes, chuck her high heels at Rafael’s handsome face, and run away.

  A heel caught the lip of the rug and she teetered. Her heart lodged in her throat. A large hand clamped on her arm and prevented her fall.

  “Careful.” The Astarot’s whisper near her ear caressed her skin.

  “I’m having reservations about this plan.”

  Rafael chuckled as he straightened and fixed his tie one-handed. The other hand remained firmly clamped on her arm.

  She had changed into the clothes in one of Rafael’s guest rooms. Whoever purchased them not only had impeccable taste, but they’d nailed her size and body type. The dress clung to all the right places and accentuated her curves and toned body. Now she stood in the tight, revealing outfit and tried not to gape at the opulence of Rafael’s mansion.

  The massive estate featured large rooms, ridiculous ceiling heights, detailed crown molding, and exquisite interior decorating. The whole place reeked of taste and old money. Did she have reservations about the plan? She had plenty about this entire situation.

  “More objections, Miss Stone?” Rafael’s deep voice caressed her.

  “Absolutely.”

  “And you wish to voice them now before you step out in public for the first time as my girlfriend?”

  “Pretend girlfriend.”

  His gaze smoldered. She looked away quickly.

  “The paparazzi are relentless as far as your private life is concerned. They’ll discover my identity within a day or two, and this whole charade will be for nothing. Everyone will know you hired a bodyguard.” Her heart beat heavy in her chest. Sweat beaded along her spine. What if the paparazzi dug too deeply? Had she covered her own tracks well enough?

  “What’s your solution?”

  “Forget my fake name. Give me my clothes back—”

  “You asked for these clothes.”

  She glared at him. “And let the paparazzi think you’re dating a bodyguard.”

  Rafael hesitated.

  “Or am I beneath you?”

  Instead of acting offended, indignant, or guilty, a wicked grin spread across the Astarot’s face.

  Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.

  Oh, please yes, her dragon wailed.

  He leaned forward. “I find the idea of you beneath me greatly appealing.”

  Her dragon panted.

  Lara squeezed her thighs together. Her cheeks flushed with heat, but she refused to look away.

  “You’re blushing, Miss Stone.”

  “You’re incorrigible, Mr. Dragoi.” Wasn’t his “test” over? Why did he insist on the heavy flirting? If he kept this up, she’d die from his innuendos.

  “Call me Raf, please.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “To answer your question, dating a bodyguard is not beneath me. I don’t care about things like that.”

  Sure. Then why did he always date socialites? Or did he do that for ot
her reasons?

  Rafael continued. “I don’t want whomever is behind these attacks to know your real occupation. He or she might suspect your true purpose or become more cautious.”

  “Fine. Who and what am I supposed to be?” He’d remained frustratingly quiet on this detail all morning. Maybe he didn’t have all the information. Or maybe he didn’t trust her.

  A deep growl from her dragon vibrated her core—such a weird sensation.

  Rafael’s lips twitched.

  The front door creaked open, and a tall man with dark red hair and alabaster skin slipped in. He lifted his shades, and his dark gaze swept her body in one appreciative motion before he whistled low.

  Rafael moved swiftly to stand slightly in front of her, as if to shield her from the other man’s look.

  The mystery man stiffened in his dark suit. His gaze dropped to the floor. Something about his face and the set of his shoulders struck Lara as familiar.

  “This is Hank,” Rafael growled. He hesitated before stepping to the side, his expression murderous. “He obtained your fake identity.”

  She frowned. She assumed Rafael had manufactured her cover on his own.

  “More objections?”

  If he hadn’t been right, she would’ve shoved some insult at him. “Two.”

  Rafael’s lips twitched. “Of course.”

  “One.” She pointed at Hank. “Can he be trusted?”

  “He’s my Secundo.”

  Secundo. Second. The Astarot’s go-to guy for getting jobs done. Lara tensed. No wonder he looked familiar. Partials of his profile probably plastered the background of Rafael’s media shots. Crap. As the Secundo to the Astarot, Hank’s life was bound to Rafael’s. He would’ve researched and dug into her life as well. How deep had his inquiry gone?

  “Surely, a mage such as yourself knows the significance,” Rafael continued.

  She nodded, suddenly finding her feet more interesting than Hank’s hard stare. Double crap. His Secundo? Doomed. She was doomed. An Astarot’s senses were heightened in the presence of his blood brother. If he wanted, he could plough right through her defenses.

  Mmmmm. Plough. Her dragon waggled non-existent eyebrows.

  Lara grumbled at her dragon.

  Relax, she said. I got this.

  The red haze protecting the inner sanctum of her mind expanded and solidified as her dragon poured more energy into it. Her dragon—the saucy wench—appeared content for the moment to remain hidden.

  “Mage?” Hank mused.

  Her head snapped up when Hank’s magic reached out to caress her skin. She slapped it away, much like she had with Rafael. “You dragons are a touchy bunch. Keep your magical paws off me.”

  Hank smirked, and a look passed between the two men.

  “Your other objection?” Rafael asked.

  She waved her hand at Hank again. “Even if your Secundo vouches for me, a fake identity only goes so far. What about the more diligent reporters and the more arduous fangirls?”

  “Arduous fangirls?” Hank mouthed, his lips broadening to a hearty smile. “Pegged that one.”

  Rafael grunted.

  “Relax, Pop Tart,” Hank said. “I created a false identity for you to assume using a deceased orphan girl’s information. The death record has been buried.”

  As Hank spoke, Lara’s blood heated and she stared down Rafael. He held her dark gaze and after Hank finished explaining, he quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “Pertinent information,” she reminded him. He’d promised.

  “And you got it.”

  She glowered. “About five minutes before we exit the building.” She swiveled to point a finger at Hank. “And my name is Lara, not Pop Tart.”

  Hank cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s Penelope Reynolds.”

  Dread shimmered through her body, followed by ice flowing through her veins. No! How did they find out? Her vision wavered and the room spun.

  Rafael’s hand snaked out and gripped her arm again. His mouth moved, but she couldn’t make out any meaning. Something about shoes.

  “How did—” she stammered. Both men watched her. Orphan girl. She gulped. Surely they heard her heart punching against her ribs. “How did you get fake identification?”

  Hank turned his attention to Rafael. “She asks a lot of questions.”

  Rafael grunted, again.

  Hank turned back to her. “Penelope Reynolds disappeared almost ten years ago. Her home had been ransacked and there were signs of a struggle, including her blood. The state officially declared her dead three years ago.”

  The signals in Lara’s brain ran laps in her head, tagging each other in an endless relay.

  “And before you ask, her adoptive parents, both mages, died in a tragic car crash about a year prior.”

  Their loving faces flashed through Lara’s memory, and she balled her hands into fists.

  Hank and Rafael waited, as if they saw another objection tease its way out of her brain.

  “What about the killer?” She knew none existed, but she’d say anything to dissuade the men from using this identity.

  Both men froze.

  Rafael spoke first. “You will be safe with me.”

  She bit back a laugh. She was supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

  “Besides,” Hank continued. “We don’t have many options. It’s the only ID with details that more-or-less fit our circumstances—a woman around your age with a similar appearance.”

  She clenched her jaw. Similar? Identical! Lara Stone had once been Penelope Reynolds.

  “The actual ID?”

  “Not that gossips and debutants will ask to see it, but it’s top.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a card. He stepped forward and held it out.

  Sure enough, her picture stared back at her with Penelope’s name on a driver’s license. The hard plastic grew warm in her hand. For the right amount of money, pretty much anything could be purchased in the city of Victor. Lara plastered a fake smile on her face and dropped the ID in her tiny purse. Rafael placed his large, warm hand on the small of her back and led her out of the building.

  Despite her sure footing—a miracle given her footwear—unease clawed up her spine. She debated what freaked her out more—the random coincidence of Hank selecting her old identity as her new one or that whatever or whomever attacked Rafael had alarmed both men so much they willingly purchased top-grade fake identification to support this elaborate, almost ridiculous, ruse.

  Chapter Five

  Raf pressed his hand into the heat of Lara’s lower back as he ushered her to the large conference room. With what must’ve been days of decorating, the space now resembled the progeny of a doily and a cream puff. The Benefit Society spent a lot of money to maintain the upscale, snooty environment expected by Victor’s elite, but at the exorbitant price per plate, the organizers would turn the expected profit, and then some, for their chosen charity. Heads turned at the Astarot’s entrance, and more than a few men’s appreciative looks lingered a bit too long on his date.

  Mine, his dragon hissed.

  With Hank at his back, Raf ignored the beast and pushed forward, guiding Lara through the crowd of vultures and socialites.

  She spent the entire car ride grilling Hank about her assumed identity, and Raf spent the time annoyed her attention hadn’t been on him.

  Liar, his dragon snickered.

  Okay, he also spent some time trying not to stare at her smooth legs and imagine running his tongue along them.

  They took their seats at a large table with a bunch of people he couldn’t stand, and his skin began to itch. He suppressed the urge to rip the suit off, shift to his dragon form, and fly away. He glanced sideways. Yes, his imagination provided lots of things he’d rather be doing. Or someone.

  His dragon rumbled approval.

  Hank shifted behind him, a constant, reassuring presence.

  Lara chewed the corner of her lip as the stares from around the table focused on her, none friendly. Raf reached out and placed his hand on her clenched fist below the table. Her attention flicked over, and she rewarded him with a smile.

  “So, you’re the new flavor?” Mrs. Amesly’s shriveled mouth twisted into an ugly smile.

  Always hated the old bat, his dragon grumbled.