Fired by my Grumpy Dragon (Grumpy Monster Bosses #3)

FOUR

Kivrayn

Loren is under my roof. That thought pounds in my head on repeat, rhythm matching the beating of my heart. My fire is hot tonight.

It was all I could do to stop myself from stepping close to her to catch a better whiff of her scent when she first arrived. To dip my head and run the tip of my nose along the light caramel skin of her neck.

Fuck.

At least I kept things businesslike on the surface. Even if beneath my mind churned with a hundred possibilities, hot like the lava core of a troll.

I hate this. This reaction to her nearness. I can’t focus properly on anything. All I can do is think about her here, so close to my hoard. In my den.

This was a bad idea. I like this far too much.

I like it so much that when I finish on the phone to the caterers, I stalk to the rear garden where the air is refreshingly cool on my overheated skin. Such a relief. Stripping off quickly, I shift to my four-legged form and shake myself. The pent-up energy of the day clings to my scales, making my breath hot in my throat.

Leaping to the roof, I pace across the length of my home in the darkness, noting the outside lights are still on in the guest wing. In the courtyard garden, four of my employees talk and laugh, unaware that I’m watching them.

She isn’t there.

Where is she? Has she gone to bed already? It’s early still. I would have assumed she’d be here, talking with the human male, Simon, since they get along so well together.

A wisp of smoke curls from my nostrils as I huff out a breath, trying to get the image of them leaning close together in the office kitchen, laughing, out of my head.

It shouldn’t bother me.

It does, though.

Which doesn’t mean anything. Some bullshit instinct my species has failed to evolve past. That’s all. This is what comes from working closely with females.

They’re dangerous.

My wings flick open and closed. Yet I’m not craving flight.

I creep to the edge of the building where the guest wing ends and the slope of the hill falls gently down to the pond by the east side of the estate. If she’s not with the others, perhaps she’s returned to her room. Of course, I should leave well enough alone, but I don’t.

Instead, I snake my long reptilian neck down over the roof line, straining to see. The window of her bedroom is directly below me. She hasn’t closed the blinds. Warm light glows from inside in contrast to the dark around me, drawing my eye.

I tilt my head .

Is it my imagination, or was that a foot? I stretch further, claws curling into the tile as I lean over, one paw braced against the side of the building.

A pair of dark trousers hits the floor, revealing shapely caramel calves and thick thighs, leading my eye up to the hint of a rounded backside until my vision is cut off by the window frame.

With a growl, I strain further. There’s a screech as my claws slide against the roof tiles.

I pull my head out of sight just as I catch Loren spin to stare out the window.

Holding my breath, I wait.

I shouldn’t be here. There’s every logical reason to stop this foolishness, scramble back onto the roof, and mind my own business like I intended to before her scent got into my nostrils.

I don’t, though.

Despite the fact that this is a lawsuit waiting to happen, that I’m leaving myself open to the worst sort of HR nightmare, despite the fact that I’m playing with fire in pursuing this any further than I already have when I don’t want a mate, I linger.

When enough time has passed, I risk another peek.

I let out a puff of breath when I’m not caught immediately. Then I lean down lower until I catch sight of her, completely naked, stepping into the shower with the bathroom door wide open. Her back is to me. She faces toward the stream of water. As she steps forward under the shower, her dark hair falls from its topknot and down her back, sleek and oil-black against her smooth back .

I long to run my claws gently down that supple surface.

Steam fogs up the room, and I squint to see her lather her hands with soap and rub them up each arm and down over pert breasts I’ve spent far too long imagining.

I break away from the window with a suppressed groan. Spreading my wings, I push off and flap hard until I gain height.

Thoughts of Loren’s naked body tease at the edges of my mind, even while I tell myself to focus on the swish of air against my wings, the burn of muscles suddenly working hard.

Why can’t I put her out of my head?

It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked female before. I’ve seen hundreds.

Fleetingly, dispassionately. None of them anything on her.

My once mellow flame feels like a wildfire burning out of control, heating my scales, making my vision blur red.

It’s not.

She’s not. She can’t be.

There’s only one way to be sure, though. And if I don’t find out, it will haunt me indefinitely. Since she’s not— definitely not—my mate, it’s safe to show her my hoard. I typically give new staff a tour during orientation in any case, so they’re familiar with the sort of objects to look out for. The ones I like to keep for myself.

I put off Loren’s orientation, thinking it might not be necessary. For the first few weeks, I wasn’t sure how long she would last. Or how long I would.

Now it seems as if she has her claws in me .

Better to get it over and done with, so I can put my fears aside. Perhaps that’s all this is. The fear of finding my fated mate and succumbing to an unwanted destiny is what’s behind my unsettled behavior. Once I show her the hoard and gauge my own reaction, I’ll know for certain she’s not my mate. Then I can go back to feeling normal again. Calm and in control. A perfectly adjusted and self-respecting dragon.

I shake my head at myself in disgust. Somehow that seems unlikely.