Breaker's Ruin
“What are you doing here?” Daisy frowned at the man
in her doorway. The insistent knocking had dragged her from her bed, and she
wasn’t thrilled to see him. The man was too handsome for his own good, and
unfortunately, he knew it. “Do you know what time it is?”
Breaker braced one hand on her door frame and gave her a
slow, hot smile. Being a dragon made that second nature. “Hello, Daisy. We
thought we’d visit.” He glanced over his shoulder, his expression less amused.
Since he didn’t move, Daisy peered around his large body.
She wouldn’t normally get that close to him, but she didn’t wake easily and the
sleep haze made it seem okay.
Lit only by ambient light, a man wove closer, stumbling as
he bumped into a table in the small chocolate factory. Something metal
clattered to the floor. He cursed in a familiar voice and limped closer,
muttering to himself.
“Luke?” Daisy brushed Breaker aside for a closer look, uncomfortably
aware of his hard heat. Not a bit of give on that one. She flinched when her
brother Luke knocked over a pile of boxes, a puff of flame escaping his mouth.
She backed up, wisely putting Breaker between her and the young dragon. Luke
would never purposely hurt her, but he was strong. He’d be very upset if he
accidently set her afire.
“He could walk by himself,” Breaker said sardonically.
“Help wasn’t desired.”
“Is he drunk?” she asked, concerned. Abruptly aware of her
thin tank top and sleep shorts, she belted her black cotton robe. Breaker
wasn’t staring, but he radiated awareness of her body. Abruptly conscious of
her messy blond curls, she shoved a hand through the short, silky mass in an
attempt to tame it.
Ugh! Now she was grooming for him.
Breaker made room for Luke in the doorway, his bronze eyes
watchful. Her living room light glinted off his black-green hair and the green
scaled band around his neck, the sign of a green dragon. Scales protected the
back of his hands and his black talons were politely blunted, though that could
change in an instant.
His wings had been
transformed to black leather pants and boots, and his formfitting, partly unzipped
leather jacket revealed a matt green t-shirt made of micro scales. A platinum
medallion with his family crest winked on his chest.
“I’m not drunk,” Luke said with dignity. “I’m stoned.” His
indigo and silver coloring was echoed in his black blue hair, and he wore a
silver jacket over his inky blue, leather pants and shirt.
Breaker intercepted her look of outrage. “An older human
woman up for a quick ride slipped something in his drink. I intercepted them as
they were stumbling out the door.”
Outraged on Luke’s behalf, she stepped aside to let them
in. “Did you call the cops?”
Breaker raised his brows as Luke dropped on her leather
couch. “It wasn’t necessary. After I threatened to bite off her face, she
apologized profusely and fled. I’ll have her watched for a few days.” His smile
was sharp. “She’ll have more dragon men around than she can handle.”
Daisy grunted. She knew the woman would be investigated
further; dragons weren’t very forgiving. Somewhat mollified, she put her hands
on her hips and stared at her brother. “Are you going to be all right? Why did
you come here?”
“Mom and dad aren’t home. Dad said something about “warm
sands for old bones”. I think they went south.”
Daisy blinked. Her mother was human and her first husband
had been elven, resulting in Daisy’s Halfling status. She’d married a white dragon
called Malcolm and had Luke when Daisy was three, much to Daisy’s delight.
Daisy had spent the next ten years mothering him, and he’d returned the favor
by being fiercely protective of her. It was no surprise he’d chose to crash at
her place if he weren’t feeling well.
Her mom was the “artsy” type, a pretty blond who’d reached
middle age with the expectation that men existed to take care of her. She was a
loving, if scattered, parent.
“Odd. Usually they call. Malcolm is almost as absentminded
as she is sometimes. I know he’s got to be at least fifty, but I swear he seems
younger than she is.” Not that he looked
fifty, but there was a sense of age to Malcolm. His face might be unlined and
his white hair thick, but at times he seemed almost otherworldly. He was also
unbeatable at chess and a whiz with the NY Times crossword puzzle.
Breaker looked mildly surprised. “Your father is as old as
the hills, love! I’m not even sure how a dragon that old produced offspring.”
He studied Luke as if he were a mystery.
“He’s old?” she echoed, belatedly realizing she should
offer refreshment. Or should she? It was after one in the morning. She’d rather
kick them out and go back to bed. Not that she would do that to her brother. He
was only seventeen, and clearly not feeling well.
Breaker was another matter.
Even better now that I've read Bramble Burn.
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