Gale Dragon: Dragons of Cadia, #4

Chapter One

Zander

He was not ready for this.

The unhappiness within must be reflected upon his face, because passersby of all types parted around him like water around a lethal predator as it moved gracefully through their midst. That was what he was, after all. A king of this domain, though he did not deign to rule over it. That was left to others. For now.

If everything he’d just found out was true and came to pass, then he might find himself amongst the circles of the ruling elite sooner than he’d expected. But Zander Pierce wasn’t overly eager for that to happen. If it did, it meant that his mother had passed on from this world.

Despite his ambition, even he wasn’t that cruel. No, he loved his mother as much as any son could, and would sorely miss the old Fire Dragon when she moved on. As crusty and rude as she could be, she had raised him well.

Now she’d given him a mission, which reflected his current misery.

Zander Lennir Pierce. You find yourself a mate already, or your cousin Kieran will get everything!

He didn’t need a mate. For nearly two centuries he’d done things his way, on his schedule. Why did that have to change now? The idea of having to give in to something so fully that he lost most of his independence not only did not sound appealing to Zander, it flat out scared him shitless. He did not know if he was capable of such a thing, even if he had wanted it himself.

So here he was, in downtown Cadia, walking down the streets with a glower on his face that sent all but the most powerful of shifters scrambling from his path. Even the mighty grizzlies respectfully moved aside, cognizant of the fact that nobody wanted to deal with an angry shifter, let alone a dragon.

The smaller ones—panthers, wolves, and the like—practically scampered from his path, many of them opting to move to the other side of the cobblestone road, or flattening themselves against a building. Their abject fear satisfied a small part of his mind, though he wasn’t normally such a towering mountain of rage that demanded said respect.

The glint of sunlight off a nearby window caused him to pause and look at his reflection.

As a dragon shifter he was naturally tall, though he wasn’t the largest of his species. Just a few inches over six feet in height, he had the broad shoulders and thick slabs of muscle typical of dragons. He wasn’t as massive as a grizzly, or even some of the bigger members of his race—Blaine Wingstar was well over six-and-a-half feet in size—but the coppery glint to his skin and sandy-colored hair told everyone what he was, and offered a suggestion that they stay the hell out of his way.

Even without that warning sign, Zander was fairly well known in Cadia, as was his temper. Already short to begin with, it became explosive if he was in a terrible mood. Like he was now, with the knowledge of his mother’s failing health, and her decree to him. All of it combined had made sure that even the odd dragon he passed in his wanderings had stepped to the side, rather than make a scene of it.

Looking at his reflection, he reached up and brushed the finger-length hair off his forehead and to the side. The black button-up shirt tucked into blue jeans was a good look on him, especially with the slight tan to his skin and the brown shoes to match. It was a classic style, but he suddenly got the feeling that it wasn’t what he needed just then.

No, something more…

Stylish, he rumbled as his eyes focused on the products displayed behind the glass window he’d been looking through.

Two mannequins stood side by side, showing off competing styles of suits. His eyes flicked from the gray to the black and back again. The slim, form-fitting cut and elegant pinstripes on the black one were very sharp, while the gray had a more modern look, lacking any breast pockets.

Either way, it was an upgrade over what he had.

Zander stepped back, looking at the sign above the door.

Challer’s Fine & Formalwear

He shrugged, having passed the store many times in his life, but never having actually been inside. The wooden door with checkerboard glass windows embedded in it opened smoothly under his pull. Like outside, the redwood color continued through the walls and floors, giving the place a warm earthen feel to it. Crown molding and intricately carved wooden posts marked the ceiling and corners.

Suits hung on racks, as did shirts of all styles, ties, shoes, belts, and all manner of things necessary to outfit someone in the latest fashions. Overhead soft yellow lights bathed the place in a comforting glow.

At the back, a tall man with slicked-back black hair was looking down his hooked beak-like nose at a short—for a shifter at least—woman wearing a black dress with white vertical stripes, cinched just below her breasts with a black belt.

He felt himself stir at the way it emphasized her cleavage, visible through the low V-cut neckline, and her waist, as the lightweight material draped itself to her figure. Inside, his dragon perked up at the sight of her, and he was forced to take a moment and quell its thoughts before he approached her.

Hello, may I help you, sir? the woman said, pulling herself away from the tall man. He watched her go with a look of disdain that sent a flash of anger through Zander, much to his own surprise.

Yes, he said, his voice deep and powerful, like tectonic plates shifting and grinding against each other as it rumbled through the room. Yes you can.

"Indeed, what brings you to Challer’s today?’ she asked with a bubbly smile, her soft pink-stained lips curling up in a manner that showed off wonderful dimples.

I need a new suit, he said bluntly, working hard to ensure that was all he said. It was harder than it should have been. He was into his second century of life; it should have been easy for him to ignore the effect she was having on him.

But it wasn’t.

Well, you came to the right place! she burbled, looking up at him.

Zander found himself staring for a moment as he realized they were a beautiful gray color, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. The swirl of foggy mist in the morning light, he thought, mesmerized by their depths.

Who is this woman?

Is, uh, something wrong, sir? she asked hesitantly, and he realized he’d been staring.

No, he said simply, wrenching his eyes away and panning them around the store. Stylish.

Pardon me? she asked, leaning in closer to him, the movement wafting a scent of wildflowers across him.

Zander tightly clenched a fist, focusing on the moment.

I need something stylish. Not formal, but stylish.

Stylish, she said, repeating the word as yet another smile played over her lips. Of course. If you’ll follow me? she said, not waiting for his response.

Gladly, he said, his deep voice dropping slightly as his eyes focused on her rear as they walked, noticing the mesmerizing way it swayed side to side.

Her hair, while mostly brown, had streaks of black dyed into it that were only visible from the back as she walked along. It was slightly whimsical, and seemed to go well with her. Zander wasn’t sure how he knew that, since he’d exchanged all of half a dozen or so sentences with her, but it just did, as far as he was concerned.

As they moved to the far side of the store, he got a glimpse of the manager in a mirror, staring over at them. Beady black eyes looked out from under bushy eyebrows, and once more Zander felt a flash of rage rip through him.

Does he always look so unimpressed? he asked in a low voice, pitching it downward so it wouldn’t carry.

What? the woman asked, turning to face him. She followed his look to the mirror, and then he saw her shoulders slump slightly.

Yes, was the only word she uttered before turning back to the rack of suits in front of her.

There was more to this story, he could tell, but Zander wasn’t ready to press her on it yet. Something told him it would come out in time. His guard was up, however, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself contained if the manager came over and said anything.

Then, to his relief, the man vanished into the back.

Is there a particular event that you need this for? she asked.

He turned around and peered at her.

No, Riss, he said, noting the nametag across her chest, and hoping she didn’t think he was staring at her cleavage—again, at least.

Okay, well what do you think of this? she asked, holding up a suit jacket to his chest and using her other hand to tug him sideways, until he was lined up in front of a mirror.

Her hand was hovering just under his chin, and then something that he should have realized much earlier hit him.

You’re human, he said without preamble, not thinking much of it other than being surprised.

He was shocked, however, at the reaction from the woman.

***

Riss

You’re human.

There it was. The line she’d been waiting for since the dragon shifter walked in the door.

Oh yes, she knew he was a dragon shifter. There had been no doubt in her mind from the moment she saw past the locks of sandy-brown hair, and the coppery, almost metallic-like glint to his skin. Unless she missed her guess, he was a Metallic Dragon. Brass, Copper, Bronze, she couldn’t be sure just which it was. They all had the same sort of hue to their skin. They had other names, ones based off their breath weapons. Riss knew the Brass dragons were known as Gale Dragon’s, for their ability to use the force of the wind. She tried to rack her mind now for the powers of the Copper and Bronze, but she couldn’t recall ever having heard it.

In addition, they were sufficiently rare that, in her twenty-eight years of living in Cadia, she’d seen but a handful of them. Enough to know their type compared to the other, more populous sub-races of dragon, but not enough to be confident labeling him from there. What it did tell her was that she needed to be extra nice.

The Metallic Dragons were, to be blunt, a prickly bunch. Combine that with the glower that had been plastered across his admittedly gorgeous features as he came inside, and Riss knew things were going to be a little nerve-racking unless she could cheer him up.

Then he’d looked at her, and the brass-brown eyes had focused on her with an intensity that practically took her breath away. She had been rooted to the spot momentarily, and tried to cover it up, though she was unsure if her efforts had been successful.

Now though, any fantasy she’d entertained about him, however unlikely, evaporated as he said the words that almost anyone she ran into did.

Yes, I am human. Yes, I live in Cadia, and yes I know that that’s unusual. I’m the daughter of a human-grizzly pair, and I got unlucky and didn’t get anything out of the deal. There, that answer your questions?

The tall shifter—though somewhat short for a dragon—looked down at her in surprise.

I did not say it was a bad thing, he rumbled, and once again Riss was forced to keep ahold of herself at the way his words seemed to warm her core.

Get a grip on yourself, woman. This is not the first shifter to walk into your store. It’s not even the first dragon shifter you’ve ever run across. The whole town is full of walking mountains of muscle with amazing features. Why is this one rattling you so much?

Could it be the square cut of his jaw? The way he occasionally had to push his hair back to keep it from dragging across his eyebrows and likely hanging just inside his view? Maybe it was the muscle she’d felt through his shirt, the hardness of his skin when she’d tugged him closer to her, the smell of fresh-cut wood wafting up through her nose and setting her skin on fire.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but something about him was, simply put, different. Riss just didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing yet.

What is your name? she asked, ignoring his comment, the suit shopping momentarily forgotten as her neck craned back to look him square in those beautiful brassy-brown eyes.

Brass Dragon. He has to be. With those eyes, I can’t see him being anything but.

Zander, he replied after a moment of evaluation, as if trying to determine whether she was worth giving his name to or not.

Riss was used to that. As a human living in Cadia, and an unmated one at that, she was considered to be beneath many of the shifters she encountered. Some were polite, but even fewer were outright friendly.

Well, Zander, she said with as much neutrality in her voice as she could manage. In Cadia, you get used to everyone using it as a slur pretty quickly.

He frowned, his face screwing up into a look of confusion. I have never used it as a slur, he said matter-of-factly, like his opinion counted more over all others.

Well, I appreciate that, she said genuinely. I really do. Unfortunately, there are ten thousand others out there that do not feel the same way as you. So, you’re kind of outnumbered.

Why do you stay then, Riss? he asked, and she shivered at the way her name rolled off his tongue.

She snorted in disbelief. "Contrary to popular