Time to go
FORD
The bass thumps the polished concrete floors of the loft like a second, unwanted heartbeat. String lights and corporate banners for Cirrus Dynamics cast everything in a hazy gold.
People in open-collar shirts and cocktail dresses laugh too loudly, drink too freely, and pretend that this end-of-quarter party means something more than another excuse to network while the quarterly numbers still look good on paper.
I stand near the floor-to-ceiling windows with a glass of whiskey I barely taste, watching the city glitter below while my cover identity does the social work for me.
To everyone else, I am Ashford Mills, contractor, Senior Atmospheric Anomaly Consultant. The quiet guy who only appears when the models start lying. It is much easier to pass as human when no one expects a dragon.
The heavy, humid air pressing against the glass smells wrong. City rain should carry exhaust, hot asphalt, and the faint metallic tang of pollution. This carries minerals and is salt-tinged, as if the ocean has reached inland.
It’s another reminder of why the High Lord sent me here. Valkana does not dispatch its Acting Chief Commander to the human realm for trivialities. The mermaids are stirring.
Their deep-sea currents are pushing farther into the human realm than any recorded season in the last three centuries, dragging unnatural storms and tides with them. Those storms are a direct threat to the purity of our flame.
I dislike the assignment. I dislike how long it forces me to remain grounded with my scales hidden and my fire tame. The High Lord chose me because he wants results. But the lack of progress each day scrapes under my skin like grit.
A hand slides over my forearm, pulling me out of the spiral. I look down. Clara from Risk & Finance. With black hair, a tight red dress, and red lipstick, she is the kind of woman most human males in this room would consider a prize.
Her job is to turn my predictions into dollar figures clients will pay for, but she spends half that time flirting with me. Most of the office already thinks we are sleeping together because she invents reasons to hover near my workstation.
They think I am some ex-Air Force, ex-NOAA prodigy with an unteachable gut instinct. But I am a dragon who has lived for years in the Sky Realm. I can feel the pressure systems the way other dragons feel the thermals under their wings.
“You look like you need rescuing,” she murmurs.
My lips twitch. She is bold enough to select me as tonight’s project. But she is not the first woman to seek my attention.
Her fingers drag across my jaw, lowering until she palms my crotch through the fabric of my pants. The lack of reaction does not discourage her. She leans in close enough for her lips to brush my ear.
“Need help taking care of this, baby boy?” she whispers.
Her perfume is sharp; purely human. Nothing underneath it calls to me. I glance around. Ethan is nowhere in sight, and everyone else is occupied with their own performances. A distraction is a distraction, so I let her tug me away from the windows.
Clara leads me down a short hallway into an empty office that still smells of printer ink and ambition. Once the door clicks shut, her mouth finds mine with more enthusiasm than skill. My hands stiffen, and I try not to recoil.
If we were in Valkana, Clara would have lost her hands the moment an ugly lowborn like her touched a ranking officer without invitation. But humans care less about titles. That is one of the few things that makes this assignment tolerable.
She finally breaks off the kiss with a moan, and I stifle my laughter, more amused than interested in her antics. Her fingers work my belt and my pants zipper to free my cock. I should stop her, but I am bored enough to let this play out.
Without warning, she sinks to her knees on the industrial carpet, looking up through her lashes as if the sight alone should be enough to get the slightest reaction from me.
It isn’t.
My body remains indifferent. The fire in my blood does not so much as flicker. Clara’s expression shifts from seductive to confused, then to something closer to offense.
She sits back on her heels, her gaze zeroed in on my girth. I don’t blame her. Even uninterested, the length is admirable.
“Seriously?” she breathes.
Her audacity is almost entertaining. I shrug, tuck my limp cock away, and fix my pants. In the past, I used words to avoid her flirtations. This will finally send the point across.
“Not in the mood after all.”
She mutters something unflattering under her breath. I walk past her without another word and step into the hallway.
The air here already feels cleaner. I glance toward the main hall, where the music is louder, and shake my head. I have stayed long enough to be considered socially acceptable.
It’s time to leave. I stride toward the elevator, patting my pocket once to be sure my phone and car keys are intact. At the end of the hallway, I find Ethan bent double, one hand braced against the wall, the other pressed to his stomach.
The sharp, sour smell of regurgitated craft beer reaches me a second before he heaves again. My alcohol tolerance is one more advantage for my kind. Three glasses of whiskey have done nothing but warm me. Ethan, fully human, is wrecked.
Ethan is my only real contact in this building. The one who brought me onto the Cirrus retainer three years ago and still texts me on weekends asking if I want to grab a burger or beer and watch a game I will never care about.
He thinks we are friends. In the limited way a dragon can be friends with a human, we are friends.
“Hey, buddy.” I set a hand between his shoulder blades. “Time to go.”
Ethan groans something that might be agreement. I get an arm around him and half-guide, half-carry him into the elevator, ignoring the curious glances before the doors shut.
The cool night air hits us as we step outside. I manhandle Ethan into the back seat of my car. He collapses sideways, already snoring before I even shut the door. I slide behind the wheel, start the engine, and pull away from the curb.
Rain starts without warning but is heavier than the forecast Cirrus issued and the models I corrected this morning. Within a few minutes, the wipers beat a steady rhythm.
Water slicks the streets and turns every set of headlights into smeared gold. My senses itch. The pressure in the air is wrong again. The rain carries that faint mineral bite, like deep water instead of city runoff.
Another anomaly. Another reminder that I am still no closer to the source. Dragons and mermaids have clashed for centuries, especially when one side’s power tilts the scales.
These latest unusual tides will affect dragon flight, dampen fire, and tilt the elemental scales our kind has spent centuries keeping stable. Nothing can go wrong on this mission. Success will make my rank as Commander permanent, while failure will see it given to someone else.
I take a quieter route toward Ethan’s apartment, my tires hissing over wet asphalt. Midway down a narrow side street lined with darkened storefronts, I see her.
A woman stands in the middle of the road.
Long black-blue hair drips water down her shoulders, and a plain black thin dress clings to her frame. She does not move when my headlights wash over her. I tap the horn. Once. Twice. Harder. She remains exactly where she is, as if the concept of oncoming traffic has not reached her.
Annoyance surges in my chest. I ease the accelerator down, letting the car close the distance faster, hoping the approaching bulk and noise will force her to step aside. Instead, she sways. Just a small, unsteady shift of weight, like someone standing on a surface that will not hold.
What the fuck—
Seeing how close the car is to her, panic spikes hot in my veins, and I brake harder than necessary. The car stops mere inches from her. My chest heaves, rising and falling hard.
Rain hammers the roof. I shove the door open, already drawing breath to shout at her for being so reckless when her knees dip. She tilts, about to collapse, but I close the remaining distance in two strides and catch her wrist.
As soon as skin meets skin, the contact sends a jolt through me. Heat rushes up my arm, and my fire, asleep for weeks, snaps awake with a force that causes my knees to weaken.
Her pulse beats a steady, strong, but strange rhythm under my fingers, and her scent cuts through the rain, too wrong for a human. It is a mix of the open ocean, clean salt, and a wild undercurrent that does not belong on any city street.
My heart slams once, hard enough to hurt.
Mate.
Hey, lovelies!!!
Thank you for reading The Dragon Commander and taking the time to add the book to your libraries. This is an early access story, which means: If you’re reading for free, you have access to two chapters per week. Subscribers have access to three chapters (+ bonus chapters) per week.
The Dragon Commander is a dark erotic fantasy romance that explores master-pet dynamics until the main characters’ relationship changes. This book serves as entertainment and was written as part of a short story series, so it won’t be as long as my other stories. No cliffhangers too. So... buckle up and enjoy the ride!
