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

FOURTEEN

Kivrayn

Unbelievable!

I fly halfway around the world to escape from her, and, once again, she somehow manages to intrude where she’s not wanted.

I stalk from Gracebourne, my fire raging and my tail lashing the air. My back is sore, but I shift anyway, launching myself into the air. I’m too wound up to sit in the back of a cab without destroying it with flames the second the traffic becomes congested or the driver says something stupid.

When I fly close to the hotel, a woman in the room below mine screams and shuts the curtains. As if curtains would stop me from smashing in there to tear her limb from limb if I had a mind.

I don’t of course. I just want to soak in a warm bath and get someone to find a masseuse who can come to my room. I grunt as I shift back to human and stand straight, overused muscles in my back protesting. The concierge is very willing to assist when I call. I’m sure they can hear the tension I can’t disguise in my voice.

What I need is a good fuck, I decide as I lay on the massage table thirty minutes later, the sound of gentle music filling my ears. I need a way to work off this tension and to prove to myself that I’m not succumbing to the mate bond with Loren. I can defeat this. Sinking myself deep into a wet, willing pussy is exactly what I need to help me fight it.

A sweet little sub, happy to do exactly what she’s told and who would never even think about answering back. I would book a pro, only I prefer to hunt my prey. It makes the conquest that much more satisfying. That usually takes me some time, though. I’m choosy about who I fuck.

Perhaps I’ll go out tonight and just keep my senses open. I can trawl through online dating or hookup sites, but I prefer to get a sense of a person face-to-face. The hunt is worth a wait of a few nights. If I’m pursuing someone, it won’t matter that I don’t fuck her tonight. Just knowing it’s on the horizon is enough. I feel the rising temperature, the bright burn of my fire.

After a hot shower and with my back feeling much better, I select one of the outfits Orna had sent to the hotel for me. She knows what I like. The fitted tan trousers have a special cut out for my tail and the sleek green blazer has been especially tailored to fit my wings. She’s organized it all in a matter of days.

I tie my long hair back to complete the look. Fierce. Uncompromising. In control.

If only that were really true.

When I walk into the bar in Knightsbridge, I can smell the humans in the room sit up and take notice. Most of the men bristle with a wave of additional testosterone as they puff out their human chests and try to make themselves look bigger. It’s only natural when a born predator enters their space. Humans are poor conflicted creatures, unsure whether they’re predator or prey. We dragons know exactly who we are.

The others in the room who are not intimidated by me grow rich with another, sweeter scent. A scent designed to call to a different sort of hunger in me. I smile to myself as I ignore them all, strolling to the bar and leaning an elbow against the top until the woman serving drinks comes over. “What can I get you?”

“The best single malt you have,” I tell her. “Over ice.”

She gets the drink without making a fuss, which already wins her points in my book. When she sets it down efficiently in front of me moments later, I give her a nod of thanks.

“In town for work or pleasure?” she asks me, beginning to slice lemons and set the tiny slices in a long silver tray.

“Definitely not pleasure,” I say with a grimace. Taking a long sip of whiskey helps. Some of the tension from earlier is slowly creeping back into my shoulders, though. Perhaps I should have had a masseuse standing by when I return to my room as well. Only I am hoping to come back with company.

The bartender is a pretty girl. Shoulder length blonde hair tucked behind small human ears. She has a row of piercings along the lobe and a pretty smile as she looks up from cutting the lemons. “Aw that’s too bad. Surely we can find you some pleasure while you’re here. I take it you’re not from England?”

I smile again. “Correct. Are you from London?”

“London born and bred.”

There’s a pause while she serves another customer. I sip my whiskey and look around the bar. There is an attractive woman sitting to my right, but she’s with a male partner and I have no interest in poaching, even if it’s likely she would leave with me if I invited her.

Every other female is of less interest to me. When I turn back to the bartender, I try to ignore my instinct to compare her face to Loren’s. She’s far less annoying, which is what matters, even if her eyes have less spark and her nose is longer and less adorably rounded.

I really need a willing woman tonight.

I tip my head back and finish the last of my drink, setting it down on the bar just as a woman with the most delicious scent hops onto the stool right next to mine.

A delicious coffee-and-burnt-cinnamon scent...

An all too familiar voice says, “If you think I’m going to go find somewhere else just because you’re here, you’ve got another think coming. I have just as much right to drink here as you, jerk features.”

I spin to find Loren in a tiny black handkerchief that you can barely call a dress, with her legs crossed one over the other, grinning at me. She gestures to the bartender as I gape at her.

God, those legs! I know she’s short, but in that dress, they still seem to go on forever and I can see almost all of them. The scrap of fabric she’s wearing only just covers her pussy.

I can’t help the low growl that rumbles from my chest. “What is wrong with you?”

She laughs. “Aw, was I interrupting? Like you did to me back in Heartstone? I hope you weren’t planning on getting laid tonight. I’m not above pretending to be your scorned girlfriend to drive away anyone you’re trying to pick up. It’s been a long day and that sounds like fun.”

I almost laugh. This is too ridiculous. Her taunt stokes my fires and has my scales heating. “Well, if you think you’re going to drive me out of this bar when I got here first, you’d be wrong. Good luck outlasting and outdrinking me.”

The bartender hands Loren a gin and tonic and she lifts it to me with an ironic smile. “You’re on, buddy.”

I scowl at the use of that stupid word again. I refuse to lift my drink and toast to that. Besides, it’s empty. I quickly order another.

“What are you doing here, Carandang?”

She twists on her stool to face me. “I told you. Acquiring the Burbage collection.”

I roll my eyes. “So you think. You’re going to lose.”

“We’ll see about that,” she smirks. “Were you really here to pick up?”

I glare into the amber liquid in my glass. “What business is that of yours?”

She snorts. “Oh that’s rich coming from you, the guy who stalked me on my last date and the time before that when you thought I had a date.”

“I did not stalk you.” I did, though, didn’t I?

She just shakes her head. “So who do you have your eye on, huh? Let’s see...” She looks around the bar, openly staring at all the women. “Her?” She indicates the attractive brunette I was evaluating earlier.

“No.”

Loren eyes me. “Her?” She indicates another woman in the back corner with sharp features and an unpleasant scent .

“Definitely not.”

Loren laughs. “Oh, OK. I see. Well, I’ll figure it out.”

I take another long drink. She doesn’t need to. It’s enough that she’s sitting right there smirking at me in that infuriating way. I can’t look at another woman with Loren there, let alone think about bedding anyone else.