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

TEN

Kivrayn

Fuck.

What have I done? Standing on the empty deck of the bar, it’s all I can do to keep my wings from spreading to their full size and stopping actual flames from erupting out of my mouth.

I clutch the back of the chair she vacated and grip it so tight I’m sure I leave claw marks in the plastic faux wicker.

I’m not going to follow her.

I’m absolutely not going to make any more of a fool of myself than I’ve already done, charging in here like some possessive boyfriend ready to defend her from whatever the fuck I thought was going on.

The orc was giving her his jacket. I see it now.

In the moment, my mind distorted it into him tearing her clothes off in some brutish attack.

But there’s only one brute here, and it isn’t the orc.

I don’t dare move a muscle. Don’t dare let my rigid body move an inch or I’ll be after her like a flash, doing the exact thing I mustn’t do.

If I see her again tonight with that kiss fresh in my mind and the subtle taste of her still lingering on my lips, I’ll snatch her up and carry her off so I can ravage her whether she wants it or not. Whether I want it or not.

It’s madness to be standing here having a furious argument with myself. Of course, that doesn’t stop me. I descended into madness months ago at the very first whiff of her and it’s only gotten worse since.

Why did I kiss her?

It wasn’t a planned action. It was pure instinct, my unwanted hormones rushing through my body, prompting my limbs into actions I would never have taken if I’d been in my right mind.

God, she tastes like perfection.

Finally I break out of my stupor and run a shaky hand through my hair between my horns. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of Heartstone. The trip to London could not have come at a better time. In fact, I don’t think I should wait for my flight. Despite my earlier reservations about flying there myself, I think I’ve now got no choice.

Swiping my phone from my pocket, I send a quick message to Orna, telling her to cancel the flight out and arrange to have my luggage shipped ASAP. I also ask her to arrange my accommodation beginning tomorrow. Then I step to the balustrade and climb over. Tossing my phone in the air, I’ve shifted before it hits the water, snatching it in delicate jaws. I stretch my wings and lift myself high into the air, appreciating the burn, relishing the wind on my face.

I’ll not linger here where temptation apparently lurks around every corner I take.

It’s sheer bad luck the number of times I’ve run into Loren since I fired her. Each one seems to be the universe laughing at me, exalting at my misery .

Transferring my phone to a paw, I twist in the air, spiraling around to see if sending my brain into a spin can counteract the way that kiss has me shaken.

Of course, it doesn’t.

All I can think about for the hours I spend in the air is her flavor. The soft way her lips parted for me, in wild contrast to the fire in her vicious words. As if as soon as I got my hands on her, the heat in her temper transferred into a different heat that surged between us and stoked the kiss into an inferno that may never go out.

After tormenting myself for I don’t know how long, I spot a cluster of gulls flapping around a patch of ocean. Something below churns the waves into little white-foamed tips, and no doubt beneath that, sharks circle, waiting.

I snatch a bird in my jaws and crunch down through feather and meat and bone. Then circle back to snatch another when one isn’t enough. By this stage, they’re onto me, but not fast enough to escape. I relish the moments of pursuit while I chase them through the air until my speed and long neck gets the better of another.

The blood on my tongue is nowhere near as sweet as the taste of Loren. By rights, she should taste like piquant acid or bitter bile the way her evil temper seems to spout from her any time I’ve seen her. She should not taste like honeyed fruit.

With a huff of irritation, I regain my orientation, gauging my path by the stars that have begun to shine in the dark sky. Heading east into the oncoming day, I beat my wings and use what updrafts I can find to keep me flying all night .

At some point in the early hours of the morning, I finally wrestle my thoughts to the task that brings me to London: retrieving my mother’s diamond necklace. It was a gift my father gave to her on their bonding, thoughtlessly sold by my aunt after her death, before I could intervene. I’ve missed it like a physical part of me ever since. I can’t truly blame my aunt Helena. As a human, she couldn’t have known the item’s true importance to me. The physical bond I would feel over something so personal.

That’s what I tell myself to keep the peace. Though I don’t know why. She’s long since dead. Her human lifespan a tiny portion of mine. The greater loss was my mother, whose life should have been lengthened by the bond with my father had he not died unexpectedly when I was a fledgeling.

As it was, I grew up foisted on one relative then the next, never truly feeling at home again until I made my fortune and established my den. At which point I vowed three things. I would complete my hoard, defend my den so I never had to experience that hurt again, and I would never mate, so no child of mine could ever go through the same.