Chapter One
It had been a dragon, a real, live, mythological dragon of pure gold. The dragon’s scales glistened under the moon like mother-of-pearl, waxing through yellow-and-white gold as it moved. He hadn’t had any wings. Looking at the dragon had reminded her of the artwork she’d seen of Asian dragons that were long and sleek, with faces that reminded her of a bearded dog, and five thick claws that gripped the earth. Something in the back of her mind whispered to her, but she couldn’t grasp it and didn’t try too hard. She was looking at a living, breathing, dragon, and she wished she could feel his scales under her fingertips. She wondered if they would be cool to the touch like a serpent, or warm like flesh. She stared until her eyes went dry, but she couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away…especially when the dragon melted into a man.
He was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. Thick, tawny hair fell around his shoulders—and such broad shoulders they were. They looked like they were large enough to carry the world on them, or at the very least able to carry her troubles, and she had plenty of them. She hadn’t been able to make out his face as he walked to his back door—looking left and right as if checking if anyone could see him—she was too far away. But he moved with a confidence and grace that said he was the lord of all he surveyed and knew it. His broad chest flexed as he moved, open to the elements around him. Even as far away as she was, she knew that he was tall. He towered over the bushes between their yards, and those same bushes came to her diaphragm, and she was not short at just a couple inches under six feet tall. The moon danced on his pale flesh like a lover. He was magnificent. If her mouth had gone dry at the sight, she attributed it to fear and not desire. Then he’d disappeared into his home all while she’d been simply staring in awe.
Maybe she hadn’t seen what she thought she’d seen. She was nearsighted. She had the diagnosis and the paperwork to match. Deep inside, though, she hoped she had seen what she thought because if she had, then her life was saved. Nose pressed to her bedroom window’s pane, she waited in the darkness for another flash of gold to glitter against the hedges edged in silver under the moonlight. She didn’t know how long she waited there, hope dwindling every second, but finally the coldness of her limbs forced her from the window and to her dresser. She tossed on some sweats as quickly as possible and ran from her room. She refused to let her hope die. She needed it. She hadn’t felt hope in what felt like ages, and if anyone needed it she did.
For the last two years she’d been plagued by a stalker who’d made her leave everything she’d every known behind. He’d taken away her spirit, independence, life, and worst of all, her family. She didn’t contact them out of fear that he would go after them because she continued to elude him. She’d learned not to make friends, to keep her head down, to take menial jobs that may or may not report her earnings, and to keep on the move. Somehow Roach had still been able to stay just steps behind her. Just tonight she’d received a phone call with nothing but the sound of his breathing, and she knew she was going to have to leave, to get out before his little game turned deadly for her.
Brook knew it would.
Deep inside she felt like she was nearing the end of the string he so conveniently had her on. If she didn’t get some sort of protection she was going to die. Funny how she was so numb now that she didn’t freeze at the thought. She knew she was desperate then. Desperate enough to believe the golden scales she’d seen turn into a man could be her salvation. She didn’t have enough time to be afraid, to think that this was absolutely idiotic. All she knew was she wanted to survive, by any means necessary, and the man who couldn’t possibly be of this world was the
It had been a dragon, a real, live, mythological dragon of pure gold. The dragon’s scales glistened under the moon like mother-of-pearl, waxing through yellow-and-white gold as it moved. He hadn’t had any wings. Looking at the dragon had reminded her of the artwork she’d seen of Asian dragons that were long and sleek, with faces that reminded her of a bearded dog, and five thick claws that gripped the earth. Something in the back of her mind whispered to her, but she couldn’t grasp it and didn’t try too hard. She was looking at a living, breathing, dragon, and she wished she could feel his scales under her fingertips. She wondered if they would be cool to the touch like a serpent, or warm like flesh. She stared until her eyes went dry, but she couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away…especially when the dragon melted into a man.
He was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. Thick, tawny hair fell around his shoulders—and such broad shoulders they were. They looked like they were large enough to carry the world on them, or at the very least able to carry her troubles, and she had plenty of them. She hadn’t been able to make out his face as he walked to his back door—looking left and right as if checking if anyone could see him—she was too far away. But he moved with a confidence and grace that said he was the lord of all he surveyed and knew it. His broad chest flexed as he moved, open to the elements around him. Even as far away as she was, she knew that he was tall. He towered over the bushes between their yards, and those same bushes came to her diaphragm, and she was not short at just a couple inches under six feet tall. The moon danced on his pale flesh like a lover. He was magnificent. If her mouth had gone dry at the sight, she attributed it to fear and not desire. Then he’d disappeared into his home all while she’d been simply staring in awe.
Maybe she hadn’t seen what she thought she’d seen. She was nearsighted. She had the diagnosis and the paperwork to match. Deep inside, though, she hoped she had seen what she thought because if she had, then her life was saved. Nose pressed to her bedroom window’s pane, she waited in the darkness for another flash of gold to glitter against the hedges edged in silver under the moonlight. She didn’t know how long she waited there, hope dwindling every second, but finally the coldness of her limbs forced her from the window and to her dresser. She tossed on some sweats as quickly as possible and ran from her room. She refused to let her hope die. She needed it. She hadn’t felt hope in what felt like ages, and if anyone needed it she did.
For the last two years she’d been plagued by a stalker who’d made her leave everything she’d every known behind. He’d taken away her spirit, independence, life, and worst of all, her family. She didn’t contact them out of fear that he would go after them because she continued to elude him. She’d learned not to make friends, to keep her head down, to take menial jobs that may or may not report her earnings, and to keep on the move. Somehow Roach had still been able to stay just steps behind her. Just tonight she’d received a phone call with nothing but the sound of his breathing, and she knew she was going to have to leave, to get out before his little game turned deadly for her.
Brook knew it would.
Deep inside she felt like she was nearing the end of the string he so conveniently had her on. If she didn’t get some sort of protection she was going to die. Funny how she was so numb now that she didn’t freeze at the thought. She knew she was desperate then. Desperate enough to believe the golden scales she’d seen turn into a man could be her salvation. She didn’t have enough time to be afraid, to think that this was absolutely idiotic. All she knew was she wanted to survive, by any means necessary, and the man who couldn’t possibly be of this world was the
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