Strung along - The Dragon shifter's human mate

Blood boiling

Percy

I’m seething for the rest of the evening. Keeping an eye on the guy on stage, I watch his man bun move as his head bops up and down while he plays his drums, completely lost in the beat. He’s good.

I’ve never seen him in person, but he looks exactly like the picture they included in that file. My dreams were shattered that day. Sucks to have principles. That was over two months ago, though. And I thought I was over it. Apparently not!

I said ‘no’ to them and they still went ahead with the plan because HE is here tonight! Without me suggesting their band to Ruby. I tried to get her alone again after the ‘Bathroom Meeting,’ but I couldn’t, and every other employee I asked had no idea who they were. No one had even heard of ‘the scales’ until tonight. My blood is boiling as I wash glasses, mix drinks, and fill taps while they play.

Araújo is not the only one who knows what he’s doing. The blonde that groped me has a decent voice, and the soft rock they play fits the smaller breaks between dancers. I guess the bass player is whom I would have gone for if I wasn’t deadly nauseous and so f**king furious that they are trying to force my hand.

Furious… but also scared. Cold creeping up my spine at the thought of a multimillion-dollar company trying to force my hand and push me into a position where I could get hurt. Especially now. It feels like they’re threatening me. And I don’t like that one bit.

“But we won’t let them, chicken finger, will we now?” I mutter under my breath while I continue to eye the dragon shifter on stage. According to the info, the bass player and singer are both wolves. So, a different kind of shifter. They all went to school together. That’s how they know each other. Araújo is the only one they’re interested in, though. You can pick a wolf up at the next street corner, or so they told me. A dragon born, on the other hand? A lot harder to find. ‘Especially his breed.’

Goosebumps form on my skin, and my head jolts up the second a new voice mixes into the consistently low, melodious one of our groper. It’s smooth as silk, almost how warm water feels when washing over you. I stare at Jordan for a minute longer, then shake my head. Time to focus. Doesn’t matter that his voice gives me literal full-boy chills. I need to think of a way to save this situation. Because I definitely won’t be left standing with my back against the wall. And I also can’t, with a clean conscience, let THEM get away with it. Their plan sounds insane. I swallow a little harder. I don’t have to like him to not want him and bigger parts of his community to get hurt.

‘I have to talk to him.’

It takes me another hour of them playing to accept that that is the only solution. Any other plan I came up with hit a wall after the third or fourth run-through. At around the same time, Lana is done with her second set and comes to sit with me and have some club soda.

“For once, they can actually sing. Where did Ruby even hear about 'The scales'?” Her perfectly glossed lips spread in a broad smile, and she waves at the guys. Well, guess that answers the question of whether or not Lana knows them.

“The little one is cute. Thank goddess, they finally took off those masks.” My friend points to the bass player. "I’d let him show me his fangs." Same sister, same. It’s a miracle that we haven’t gotten in each other’s way yet, with how similar out taste in men is. And no, I don't have a fang kink, I share with her on top of that. I'm just 'in the know'.

When she told me she was a werewolf a few months into working here, it opened my eyes to an intriguing world I had no idea existed before. I saw her shift and freaked out, so there was nothing she could really do other than let me in on her little secret. She later confided in me that I was her first ‘human.’ Made me feel special. But my hopes of ever meeting other shifters got snuffed fast after that. Until tonight.

“No idea.” I shrug. “Maybe she saw a flyer?”

"Not likely. They don't advertise that much and never take gigs at shifter-run venues, as I've heard. No idea why, though."

My friend mirrors me, shrugging her shoulders, and after chatting with her for a minute, I grab a rack and wipe over the bar. Just to have an excuse to move closer to the side where Ricci sits down now. The bouncer is on his one short break before he has to kick out the ‘Johns’ who are not paying for a lap dance. Some of them try to stick around and talk one of the paying customers into letting them into the private room they booked. No way will Ricci and his colleagues let a situation happen where there is one of us alone in a room with more than one of them. Volatile situation.

I put on my best pageant smile when he looks up at me. The one that won me ‘Miss Teen Bluebonnet’ and about $4,000 in scholarship money. Sauntering even closer, I hop onto the stool to his right.

“Ricci? I really, really need a favor.”

I usually do all I can to hide the thick Alabama lilt I have been raised with, but for some reason, he likes it. So I bring it out whenever I talk to him. He’s also from the south, and my go-to whenever I need my car jumped, a heavy box carried. Or, in this case, a private room reserved so I can talk to the dragon shifter and make sure my and the chicken finger’s a** are secure. I would never let anything happen to them. No idea how to change a diaper, but I know that much.

Ricci smiles at me, and I feel a little bad. I know he likes me because he told me so. Often. And whenever he asks me out, I turn him down. I told him point blank I would not go out with him because I don’t find him attractive but there is a good chance I might ask him for a favor again. He continues to grant them regardless, and I have not wavered on the ‘no dates with Ricci’ policy. So I come right out and ask. The least I can do is be honest. He's my friend and a good person.

“I need a moment alone with one of the guys.” I point over to the band. “You think you can arrange that for me? Ten minutes max, I promise.”

“You really think they got that little stamina, huh?” Ricci smirks, and I draw up a brow.

“No idea." I shrug. "I don’t plan on finding out.”

He huffs, raising a brow, but I will not get into this with him. I don't cater to his weird jealousy. Wiping the rack in my hand over the bar again, I look at him sternly. “Like I said, I need a ten-minute conversation. So can you get me in a room for a few?”

I smile slightly. “It's not something I wanna unpack in front of the whole club or his bandmates.”

Ricci’s face darkens, and his eyes move over to the guys just finishing what must be the last song of their set. There is some applause, and a minute later, they all walk up to the bar, ordering from my colleague on the other side.

When I meet the bouncer’s gaze again, he gives me a short nod. “Number three is empty at the moment. 10 minutes. 15 max.”

Rising from the stool, I get to my feet, tapping three times, and lift to my tiptoes to kiss his cheek and give him a genuine smile.

“Thank you.” I can be a b*tch most of the time. But I do have some manners, ok people. With his darker complexion, you can’t see, but I feel his skin heat up under my hand on his arm.

Before he can get it in his head that I might have changed my mind, I leave Ricci standing at that side of the bar. When I turn my back to him, my eyes meet the clear green ones I have noticed landing on me several times throughout the night. Now is no different. His chiseled jaw clenches, and I see his left hand’s long, agile-looking fingers tighten around his glass. What is his problem?

I square my shoulders and walk straight up to the trio. Araújo is leaning against the bar furthest from me, the impressive veins on his forearms popping under the rolled-up sleeves of that shirt. The material looks so soft I have to fight the urge to touch it for the full ten seconds it takes to pass by the others and stop right in front of him.

“Hey, do you have a minute?”