Dragon Desire (Tooth & Claw Book 1) Read online

  DRAGON DESIRE

  Emilia Hartley

  © Copyright 2020 by Blues Publishing. - All rights reserved.

  The contents of this book may not be reproduced, duplicated or transmitted without direct written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Legal Notice:

  This book is copyright protected. This is only for personal use. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Chapter One

  Moira Applegate fixed her makeup in the visor mirror before slapping it back into place. Outside the windshield, a black manor loomed among the trees. Snow dusted the evergreen boughs and naked branches, but it didn’t touch the gleaming black architecture. Her heart thumped a nervous beat inside her chest.

  The interview would only take an hour or so. Moira didn’t intend to stay long. She would ask Devin VanTassel a few questions and then return to the office to create a short profile for him. This was, in theory, a short assignment.

  When Atticus VanTassel, a local self-made millionaire, called the newspaper and asked for a favor, the whole office waited with bated breath. Most of the office groaned and lost interest when the editor asked for someone to write an eligible bachelor article. Everyone else wanted a direct invitation into the reclusive family’s lives, while Moira saw this as her way in.

  Now that she stood outside Devin VanTassel’s estate, she couldn’t escape the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. There was a reason no one else wanted to interview Atticus’s cousin for this article. Sightings of him around town were rare, but when he came out, everyone else ran in the opposite direction.

  Devin had never caused a stir in town. He’d never started a bar fight or stopped traffic to brawl in the streets over a fender-bender—like some other townsfolk had. Devin VanTassel was not a menace to society, but everyone could see the monster lurking under his skin. The whole town knew he was capable of awful things. Malevolent energy washed off him in waves.

  When she accepted the article assignment, the whole office had looked at Moira like she’d lost her mind. They didn’t know that she’d met Devin VanTassel before. No one else had ever seen the side of him she’d glimpsed that day.

  She pulled her dark, auburn hair back and fixed her earrings before stepping out into the late-fall chill. She gripped her bag to keep her fingers from trembling, but she couldn’t ignore the quake in them as she rang the doorbell. The bell echoed inside the foreboding house before fading into nothing. Silence overcame the next few moments while she waited.

  When no one answered, Moira took a step back. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she peered up at the balcony above.

  “Oh my god!” she squealed.

  Devin VanTassel laughed. Shirtless, he leaned over the balcony above and smirked at her. A dark light illuminated his eyes, like a fire in the middle of the night. Moira spun away from him, her cheeks flaring with unexpected heat.

  “I didn’t see you there!” she called up to him.

  “No, you were too busy fixing your makeup in the car,” he replied, voice smooth and husky like bourbon. He had a rumble to his voice, like the purr of a tiger but…even bigger.

  Moira stepped out from under the balcony to glare up at Devin. Had he recognized her yet? Would he? The questions made her lungs too tight to breathe. She wanted to feel indignant at his statement, but her own desire to see the flicker of recognition in his eyes kept any righteous feelings at bay.

  “I wanted to look…professional,” Moira said, even though she knew doing her makeup in the car wasn’t exactly professional.

  Devin just grunted, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he peeled away from the balcony upstairs. She thought he would disappear into the house like a reclusive beast and ignore her presence. She glanced at her phone and watched the minutes tick away.

  It’d been useless after all. She should have known Devin would not recognize her after seven years. He was an eligible bachelor. There were probably women asleep in his bed right now that he was sending home. Moira hadn’t made any kind of impression on him.

  Not the way he had on her.

  Then, the door flew open. Devin had taken the time to put on a black shirt but hadn’t buttoned it. He sized her up, his eyes roving over her body from toe to head. Moira nervously adjusted the tight pencil skirt hugging her hips.

  When he didn’t move, Moira had to ask, “Are you going to invite me in?”

  Both dark brows vaulted over his charcoal eyes. “I might, if you could tell me why you’re here.”

  She’d forgotten herself. She pulled herself to her full height and extended her hand. “I’m Moira Applegate, from the local newspaper. I’m here for our scheduled interview.”

  Moira waited for the spark of recognition to cross his features, but it never came. His lip curled, but he didn’t aim that ire at her. His eyes moved past her. When she glanced back, she expected to find someone laughing at Devin. No one stood in the driveway or the yard.

  Finally, Devin groaned. He turned away from the door. “I guess you should come in. It’s too cold outside for you to be dressed like that. You’ll freeze if I leave you out there too long.”

  She couldn’t argue. The wind swirled between her nearly bare legs and up, under her skirt. Her coat could keep the cold at bay, but her skirt did nothing to keep her warm. She’d worn it only to make a good impression, and had she spent any longer outside, she would have regretted it.

  Inside should have been warm and toasty, but she found it wasn’t much different than outside. She began to peel her coat from her shoulders and hesitated when the icy air touched her bare skin.

  “Holy shit,” she muttered, expecting to see her breath in the air.

  Devin had disappeared further into the house. She lingered in the lobby, debating whether or not she should take her coat off. It wasn’t proper to wear a coat inside, and she wanted to make the best impression, but she didn’t want to shiver during the interview, either.

  “Are you coming? I’d like to get this over with,” Devin called out to her.

  She cursed under her breath and shrugged off the coat, leaving it on a hanger by the door before hurrying toward the living room. Of course, her regret was immediate once she saw the open window.

  Her chill didn’t last long once she spotted Devin, sprawled out in a chair. His legs were spread wide, like the front of his shirt. Black tattoos climbed over his ribs and stretched out from beneath the shirt, making her wonder what kind of images he had emblazoned into his skin. She lifted her gaze to find him watching her. His lashes nearly obscured his eyes, but she could still see the flicker of light in them.

  Heat unfurled inside her, licking at her core. She took a seat opposite him and neatly folded her legs to keep them closed. Still, Devin’s nose twitched like he could smell the flush of desire pooling between them.

  To distract herself, Moira calmly set up a recording device. It would track the interview while she asked questions, leaving her free to guide the conversation as she saw fit. Yet, when she fished her notes out and sat back, a shiver raced up her spine and shook her thoughts loose. She did her best to stave off t
he frigid air, but without wrapping her arms around herself, she didn’t know what to do.

  Suddenly, Devin stood. She startled, and her pen clattered to the floor. Devin didn’t seem to notice as he went to the window and yanked it shut. When he turned around, he tugged at his shirt like he was too hot.

  “I apologize,” he began as he sat. “I prefer much lower temperatures. I forget from time to time that not everyone can endure the cold like I do.”

  He didn’t return to his casual stance but leaned forward with his hands on his elbows. This close, Moira could barely organize her thoughts. She almost wanted him to open the window again. She bought herself a moment by clearing her throat.

  “I think we should start with why you’re single,” Moira said.

  Devin couldn’t quite stifle his laughter. “That’s jumping right to the point. You aren’t going to ask me what my favorite meal is or my ideal date?”

  “I think it’s paramount to my article to figure out why you have avoided the dating scene. Once I understand that, then I can help others meet your needs.”

  His laughter faded. Once the room quieted, he met her with a sultry stare. “What makes you think a woman can meet my needs?”

  “Are you telling me that you’re interested in men?” she challenged, knowing that wasn’t true.

  Moira had felt his hands on her before. She knew what it felt like to be touched by Devin VanTassel, how he could please a woman.

  “I would tell you anything to get you and my cousin to leave me alone. Would that work? Could you spread that rumor and keep everyone from knocking on my door ever again?”

  Moira kept her voice steady and professional. “What keeps you from letting anyone in, Mr. VanTassel?”

  He snarled. “What makes you think I want anyone in my house? In my life? I’m perfectly fine all by myself, yet no one seems content to believe that.”

  She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Devin cut her off.

  “All I’ve ever wanted was to be left alone. If I can have nothing else in my life, I want solitude.”

  That wasn’t true. If Devin never wanted anything, he never would have fallen into bed with her years ago. He wouldn’t have filled her with the aching want he felt. She refused to believe a man who could touch her like that would want to live alone for the rest of his life.

  She peered at him and wondered if he could remember her yet. Perhaps she was one in a sea of faces, of other women searching for someone to hold them or searching for a way into his bank account. She hadn’t known who he was when they slept together. She’d only seen the rugged cut of him and that blazing fire in his eyes and wanted to know more.

  The tattoos and the beginning of a beard on his jaw were new, though.

  “You invited me in, Mr. VanTassel. Do you want to finish this interview or are you going to kick me out now?” She stiffened in her seat.

  Moira had been foolish for thinking she could make him remember her. She might savor that night, but it was lost to him. She didn’t know what she was thinking. Her job was to write an article about all the reasons women would want to date Devin, not to steal him all for herself.

  She knew nothing about Devin other than how he made love. She didn’t fear the malevolence around him, but maybe she should. No one knew much about the VanTassel family. This article should be her chance to infiltrate the reclusive millionaires, because there had to be a larger story lurking among them.

  Moira had to remember to put her career first. She was the only one who would ever do so. She could only count on herself.

  “Alright, shall we assume a general cantankerous nature has left you single? Unable to get over yourself, you gave up on finding a woman who could do it for you?”

  She expected Devin to snarl, but his lips parted in shock for the briefest moment. Then, a menacing grin overtook his features.

  “And what would you tell women looking to woo me? That I’m in need of a female with scathing wit, enough to strike me down when I’m being rather full of myself?”

  Moira scoffed. “Wit would not be enough. Any prospective women would need the ability to tune out their partner. That way your awful personality won’t find purchase.”

  He leaned back, still bearing that wild grin. His shirt fell open and exposed the black dragon that clawed at his ribs. It seemed to tear him open, black and grey gashes revealing the darkness beneath his skin. This man must have thought himself a monster. Perhaps that was what happened when everyone treated him as such.

  “I must say, I did not expect a reporter to come into my home and insult me this morning. Have all women become as vicious as yourself? Perhaps I should stay off the market for a little while longer.”

  She let out a breath through her nose and tried to conquer the urge to snap back at him. Instead, she managed to be civil. “I apologize. It seems my lack of caffeine this morning has made me…”

  “Cantankerous?”

  Moira shook her head. “No, that’s reserved only for men who tease women for wanting to look their best.”

  Every laugh she drew from him was music to her ears. The deep and smooth sound reminded her of sultry mochas, breathing a kind of comforting life into her. This man was not her future, only a way to access an even bigger story. Even if she wanted to curl up in the crook of his arm and breathe his scent.

  Devin stood and left the room. Moira wondered if she should follow him. She craned her neck to see where he’d gone, and minutes later the air filled with the aroma of hot coffee. Devin returned to lean in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

  “You said you haven’t had coffee yet. This might go better for both of us if we have a bit of caffeine.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  He shrugged and turned away. “I wanted a cup of coffee. Might as well make one for you, too.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. What an underhanded way of being generous. Quickly, she snatched the recording device and darted after him. The device would record an awful bang when she set it on the marble counter, but it would be worth it. She expected some pretentious coffee brewing contraption, but there was a plain coffee maker on the counter instead.

  It gurgled, happily brewing a carafe.

  “I have more questions for you,” Moira began before he could kick her out of the kitchen. The intimate environment might help him lower his barriers, and she might get a genuine response out of him after all. “Can you tell me what you would want in a girlfriend?”

  He paused and glanced over his shoulder. The heat in that single look could have warmed the whole house. Moira sucked on her bottom lip but kept from biting it.

  Devin set a trivet on the counter and placed the carafe on top before spinning to grab two mugs. “Do you take cream or sugar?”

  “I’ll have it black,” she said quickly, hoping he would answer her question.

  He took his time. The coffee in his cup turned a soft shade of brown after he added a generous amount of flavored creamer. She smirked, pleasantly surprised by how he took his coffee. Most men would have suffered through bitter black coffee after hearing a woman proclaim that was how she liked it.

  She figured it had something to do with being macho, but Devin didn’t think twice about making the coffee he preferred.

  “Gingerbread creamer,” he said, pushing it toward her. “I grab a surplus every holiday season, but it never seems to last long enough.”

  Moira shook her head. “My question, Devin. What kind of a woman would you look for?”

  He sighed. “If I wanted a woman, she would be quiet.”

  ***

  Devin didn’t laugh at her sour expression, but he wanted to. It didn’t seem fair to laugh at her with how much he’d already teased her. The coffee should have been a peace treaty, but he couldn’t stop himself from prodding the reporter.

  Her name danced in the back of his mind. As did her scent and the supple curve of her lips. His heart about stopped when he watched her suck on her l
ower lip. He claimed an indifference to women, but she made him want to be her lower lip.

  “Is this the end of the interview, Mr. VanTassel?”

  She’d slipped and called him Devin earlier. He wanted to hear his name on her lips again. It struck that distant memory in the back of his mind and nearly dislodged it from its hiding spot. Instead, she’d gone back to formality.

  He set down his coffee and closed the distance between them, removing all obstacles. She flinched when his heat hit her, but she didn’t run away. He wound a lock of her auburn hair around his finger. With it in his hand, he could control her. She didn’t look bothered. If anything, she raised her chin.

  Not in defiance. Her lashes grazed her cheek as she bared her throat to him. His beast growled hungrily. It wanted to know what the soft skin of her neck tasted like. He would eat her whole, given the chance.

  Perhaps he should take the reporter to his room and show her what he was capable of. Sex would sate his hungry beast, and the reporter would leave with something to write about in her article. That meant more women would show up, though.

  Devin didn’t need women trying to knock his door down. He wanted privacy, so no one would have to see the monster he’d become. He kept his rage locked in this house, the beast inside him screaming to get out and tear down everything because it could own nothing.

  The beast didn’t think of the territory it couldn’t have, the pack it couldn’t own. When the beast looked at this reporter leashing her tongue and baring her throat, it wanted her and nothing else. Devin trailed his fingers over her hips, and her lips parted. He heard the soft hitch in her breath.

  “I do not need a woman, but the only one I would ever want would know one thing.”

  The reporter swallowed before asking, “What’s that?”

  “How to scream my name.” He curled his hand around her throat, skin barely touching, and rested his thumb over her pulse.

  She swallowed again. He felt it, just like he felt the race of her pulse. He wondered what she would do if he hitched the hem of her skirt higher, if he kissed her so hard, she couldn’t breathe.