Dragon's Curvy Counselor (Dragon's Curvy Mate Series Book 3) Read online

  But this woman makes me wanna change.

  Change into something else.

  Something else that I can feel inside me.

  Something that’s alive in a way I don’t understand.

  “Psychoanalysis?” she says, raising an eyebrow and looking me over like she’s wondering if I’m using big words I don’t understand. She takes a breath and shrugs. “I’ve never been a fan of the Freudian school of thought. Too much—how should I put this . . .”

  Callie turns bright red as she trails off, and I know exactly where that sentence was going. That wily old bastard Freud based his entire theory on—how should I put this . . . ah, right: Cock. Yup. An entire psychological theory based on cock. Men are driven by their cocks, and women are driven by their need for a man’s cock. No shit he’s fallen out of favor in this day and age.

  My cock moves as I look at this blushing babe with a bosom I want in my face right now. If this were a date, I’d be kissing her right now. I can feel the tension in the air, the awkward silence at where the conversation was going. It’s sexual tension—and I know this because I’m a fucking master of sexual tension. It’s one of the side effects of this weird obsession I’ve had with keeping my cock in my pants even though I’ve had plenty of opportunities out there. I love creating that sexual tension when I know I won’t break, won’t give in to that primal need that destroys a man’s character, makes him an addict to the orgasm, makes him think sex is about blowing your load in a woman, about the destination and not the journey, the climax and not the seduction.

  “I’m just gonna set up this camera,” Callie mumbles, blinking and looking around the room for a spot to put her little camera. Fine with me. I got nothing to hide. I’ve already confessed to my crimes—though I figure I’m getting a few years added on for assault or even attempted murder for what I just did.

  She finds a metal folding table leaning against the wall. It takes her a few minutes to set it up, and I can’t help but take in the sight of her leaning over to pop the legs open. Fuck, I’d like to pop her open right now. If there’s ever been a moment where I feel like my cock owns me, it’s now. My need is so wild I can barely see straight. But it’s a need that’s bubbling up from a place so deep in me I know it’s not just lust. Is it the shock of being shot? Some drugs or painkillers they pumped into me? Straight up insanity that’s been a long time coming?

  “You gotta spread those legs wide and snap them into place,” I say, my mind still swirling as I see the table wobble.

  She turns in shock, her face even redder. “Um, what did you just say to me?”

  It takes me a moment to realize what I just said, and my eyes go wide. “Oh, shit! I was talking about the table! The table’s legs—not your legs. Not that there’s anything wrong with your legs. I mean, of course there’s nothing wrong with your legs. They’re great legs, far as legs go.”

  I’m a blubbering idiot, talking like a lovesick teenager, but I can’t stop staring, can’t stop talking, sure as hell can’t stop thinking about those legs straddling my face as I eat her out and make her come all over me. But I simply can’t help it. My mind is flooded with images of her strong calves, thick thighs, perfect hips. And when I once again imagine my face between those spread legs, everything really does snap into place, like that moment when you have a vivid dream and you know you’re dreaming but it’s so fucking real . . .

  And then the dream changes.

  And in the background of this new dream I see something.

  Something I’ve been getting glimpses of for years.

  Something I thought was just my imagination, perhaps a sign of my madness.

  But it’s looking at me like it’s alive, like it’s real, like it’s finally come for me, a demon sent to drag my criminal ass down to hell.

  I stare at the beast like I’m hypnotized, and it stares back with its shining eyes.

  Eyes that burn like fire.

  Nostrils spewing smoke.

  Jaws that crackle and pop with sparks.

  Teeth long and sharp, like no creature on earth.

  “What are you?” I whisper to the beast that’s staring at me like it’s waiting for something. It doesn’t answer, but it blinks and exhales like it’s still waiting for something. I think a moment, and then I understand.

  It’s waiting for me to ask the right question.

  What are you wasn’t the right question.

  The right question is, “What am I?”

  3

  CALLIE

  “A dragon,” Crane says, and I almost drop that annoying folding table on my foot. I’d been kinda distracted by this stupid table, and then Crane went off about my legs in a way that was almost cute—if this were high-school.

  I should’ve just told him to fuck off and said to hell with this. I’m not really here to conduct a therapy session with the convicted felon who just tried to either assault me or murder me or both—not necessarily in that order. In fact I don’t know why I’m here.

  Because Addie and Bonnie got into my head with that strange phone-call about shapeshifting man-dragons who were bound to fated mates and would stop at nothing to claim them, I tell myself as I frown at Crane and wonder if he really said what I thought he said. No, not the comment about my ass (you know when a guy says something about your legs it means he’s thinking about your ass . . .). The comment about a dragon. This is like the fifth time someone’s used the word “dragon” in a serious conversation today. Let’s hope this isn’t a Freudian fantasy.

  Crane is staring up at the ceiling and mumbling something. I take a step closer, and then I gasp when I see his eyes.

  When I see what’s in those eyes.

  “A dragon,” I whisper, blinking as a chill goes through me. “In your eyes, Crane. I see it.”

  “You see it too?” he mumbles, his head moving side to side. “So it’s not just in my head?”

  I scratch my head, wondering how to even begin to sort through what’s happening here. “Actually, it is in your head, best I can tell. Huh. Maybe I should call a medical doctor in here. See if there’s some medical condition with symptoms like this. Could be a cataract or even a blood clot behind your eyes.”

  Crane doesn’t say anything, and I realize he’s whispering to himself. I don’t know what he’s saying, and I don’t know what to say. After shifting uncomfortably as I struggle for the right words, this weird tension makes the blood rush to my head and then leave it so fast I’m almost dizzy. I need to get out of here, and instantly I decide that I really should leave since it’s totally unprofessional and absolutely inappropriate for me to be in here anyway. I’ve just been through a traumatic event, and there’s no way I’m thinking clearly. My brain is on the verge of short-circuiting after the random, mindblowing coincidences of the day: A phone call, an assault, and everyone and their sister talking about dragons. Dragons! That should be enough to recuse myself from all of this, to step away, take some time off and get my own head straight before I try to fix anyone else.

  But my feet that were so shifty a moment ago suddenly plant themselves firmly on the floor.

  I blink and look down, wondering if the floor melted and I’m stuck.

  But it’s got nothing to do with my feet.

  It’s me, a part of me that’s deeper than my stressed-out ego, a part of me that a naturalistic nutcase might call her “soul.” Luckily I’m a scientist, so I’ll call it . . . let’s see . . . how about instinct. Sure. That sounds scientific enough. Let’s go with that.

  I almost smile at the games I’m playing with myself, trying to come up with logical reasons for why I walked into this room, why I asked to be alone with a convicted felon who just tried to assault me.

  There’s no logical reason, I finally admit.

  All I know is that I simply can’t turn away from this.

  I simply won’t turn away from this.

  Because as unbelievable as it all sounds . . .

  Somehow . . .

  Someway . . .

  For some reason I can’t understand . . .

  I believe it.

  I believe it all.

  What Addie said to me over the phone.

  What Crane whispered when he leapt at me.

  What I saw in his green eyes.

  And what I felt inside.

  Inside my body.

  Inside my heart.

  Inside my soul.

  And so I give up on the camera and step to Crane. I get close enough to smell him, and I shudder as his earthy musk fills my lungs like a drug that’s activating parts of me, parts of me that are deep, mysterious, primal. Parts of me that feel like magic, feel like destiny, feel like fate.

  “You’re a Dragon, Crane,” I whisper as I reach out and touch him on his bare shoulder. The moment the words leave my lips I know I just made a choice. A choice to step into a world that’s impossible, a reality disconnected from science, a realm in which the known laws of the natural world don’t apply.

  Crane’s bare back tenses up at my touch, and a ripple passes through him. His massive shoulders flex, the V of his lower back stretches and tightens, his thick arms pop with veins and sinews, those massive fists clench with power. Power that’s warming the air around us. Power that’s heating up my palm as I hold it against his shoulder. Power that feels like fire.

  “I’m a Dragon,” he says softly, blinking up at me. It’s not a question, but it’s not quite a statement either. It’s somewhere in between, and immediately I understand that Crane’s struggled to come to terms with what he knows he is. I don’t know shit about his childhood or parents, but
clearly he had no one who could explain that he’s a creature that supposedly doesn’t exist, that he’s got power that could destroy the world and everyone in it, that he’s not like everyone else, that he’ll never be like anyone else.

  “Yes, Crane,” I whisper, a tear rolling down my cheek as I look at the relief in this monster’s green eyes, see years of struggle and stress written into the lines on his rugged face, the creases on his forehead, the scars on his tortured soul. I know that what I’m doing violates every rule of the counselor-patient relationship, but I don’t give a flying fuck. We left that world the moment I acknowledged that this man is a mythical creature that breathes fire. Right now Crane needs one other person to tell him he’s not crazy, that he hasn’t lost his mind, isn’t an unhinged monster doomed to battle the demon in his head until he can’t do it anymore. This man has spent his entire life alone in the most profound way, and he needs to know someone’s on his side.

  He needs to know that he isn’t alone.

  And guess what?

  He’s not alone.

  Not anymore.

  Because he’s got me.

  I don’t know what that even means, but he’s got me.

  We look into each other’s eyes like time is as meaningless as common sense right now. I see the Dragon move in his eyes, and I don’t even flinch. I just smile like this is the new normal, even if I can’t understand it. Maybe the shock of what happened earlier made me unhinged, but it feels more like something snapped into place.

  We don’t speak for what feels like forever. Then Crane smiles and opens up his clenched fist, uncurling his thick fingers. He glances at his open palm and back up at me again.

  I sigh and close my eyes tight.

  Then I shake my head and place my hand in his.

  4

  CRANE

  Her hand feels tiny in my big paw, but her energy lights me up like a Christmas tree at midnight. My heart bangs against my ribcage like it wants to burst through, and I feel every muscle in my body get pumped with hot blood, blood that feels like fire, blood that feels like fate.

  “I’m a Dragon,” I mutter, blinking and frowning as I look down at Callie’s soft, smooth hand in my scarred, blood-stained palm. I don’t know if I’m surprised or relieved, and it’s only when I look back into her eyes that I realize I’m both. At some level I’ve always known I was different in the most profound way. But I couldn’t understand what I was. The only thing that made sense was that I was crazy, and so that’s what I went with.

  “I’m not crazy,” I say as the relief washes over me and I squeeze Callie’s hand, feel more of her energy enter me. “My whole life I thought I was fucking insane, a beast with a broken brain, incurable, unfixable. I saw things in my head I couldn’t believe. But you believe me. In fact you believe what I couldn’t allow myself to believe—not without totally losing my grip on the real world. I’m a Dragon, Callie. I’m a fucking Dragon!”

  She snorts and shakes her head like she can’t believe what’s happening. “Um, maybe we keep that to ourselves for right now. You know, inside voice.”

  I grin as I grip her hand tighter. “Fuck that. It won’t matter once we bust through these prison walls and fly out of here.” Then I raise an eyebrow and look down over my huge body. I take a breath and exhale slowly. “Fly!” I say. “Come on, Dragon. Fly! I command you to fly! Why won’t you fly?!”

  And suddenly I feel my frustration rise, my anger emerging with a vengeance. I clench my fists and pull at my straps, roaring in impatience when they don’t break. Then Callie cries out in pain, and I blink when I realize I’m still holding her hand and almost crushed her fingers!

  “Oh shit, I’m sorry,” I mutter, releasing her and biting my lip so hard I draw blood. I look up at her, but she’s backing away from me, rubbing her hand and wincing in pain. I roar again as I see a flash of fear in those big brown eyes, a hint of doubt, like she’s second-guessing herself, second-guessing me, second-guessing us even though there isn’t an “us.”

  But I can’t think clearly, because the rage is rising so fast my vision is bright red, my blood pumping with fury, my skin burning like flame.

  And then suddenly the pounding in my head stops.

  It’s silent like a graveyard, and just as I wonder if my heart exploded and I’m dead, I hear something.

  A voice.

  A voice inside my head.

  Simmer down, Hotshot, comes the whisper. I will come forth when the time is right. You are not ready to handle our power just yet. I’ve been waiting in the shadows for decades. Waiting for our mate to arrive. Now she is here, but you are still not ready. If I come forth now, the situation would be . . . explosive, to say the least. You need to gain control of the man you are before we can fly through the skies as one, before we can claim our mate—before she will LET us claim her.

  I raise an eyebrow and groan. What the fuck is this? I’ve had visions and dreams all my life. But I’ve never heard voices before. Certainly never had a fucking conversation with a voice in my head. What do I do? Do I talk back in my head or use my voice? What if Callie thinks I’m really nuts?

  I glance across the room at Callie. She’s looking at her phone, and I feel the anger rise up again like a volcano. I have to grit my teeth to pull myself back from the brink of an explosion, and then I remember what my Dragon just said: If it comes forth, the situation would be explosive.

  Suddenly I stiffen on the gurney as a blindingly vivid image flashes through my brain. I gasp at how bright the vision is, and then I gasp again when I feel myself flying through the air, flying on wings that stretch out forever, wings with sharp scales of deep black and iridescent blue, wingtips like deadly spears. I look down in my mind and see my talons, smooth and sharp, brutally strong, menacingly curved.

  In my vision I open my mouth, and my eardrums almost explode as a bloodcurdling screech emerges from my maws. And then I’m spewing fire, fire that’s white-hot and pure energy. I feel my body shake and rumble as I scorch the air with Dragonfire, burn the earth with my flames.

  And then suddenly I’m back, strapped down like an animal in a cage, that taste of freedom driving me close to insanity once again. I reach for the superhuman strength that erupted earlier when I broke through steel handcuffs and metal shackles. But I can’t find it in me, and my chest slumps down as my frustration rises again.

  “Why can’t I snap these puny leather straps?” I growl. “An hour ago I broke through handcuffs and shackles.”

  “Probably because you’re sedated,” says Callie from the far side of the room. “As for breaking through cuffs and shackles . . . I think the guard probably hadn’t fastened them correctly.”

  She glances at my wrists, and I see that she’s making sure those straps are secure. I sigh and do my best to relax. There’s an awkward silence in the room, and it sure as hell isn’t that sexual tension that had my cock hard earlier.

  Though my cock is still hard, I realize with a chuckle and a head-shake. Clearly the sedative didn’t make its way below the waist. Still, Callie isn’t going to just untie me and set me free like a little birdie in an orange jumpsuit. I gotta take care of my own business. And then I take care of her business.

  I sigh and shake my head again. “Look, Dragon,” I whisper. “I don’t know exactly how this shit works, but far as I know, you’re my Dragon, which means you do what I fucking say. This situation doesn’t move forward until I’m free from this cage, out of this prison. The only way to do that is for you to get your scaly ass into existence.”

  There’s silence in my head, but I can feel my Dragon move inside me in the strangest way—not physical movement or anything. Like it’s in my consciousness or something. I’m getting used to the feeling, and I exhale slowly and wait for the critter to respond.