Dragon's Fire:A Reverse Harem Romance(9)

By: Lili Zander & Rory Reynolds

Talk about pretentious.

Bea plops onto the stool next to me. “Where were you? I looked for you a few minutes ago and couldn’t find you.”

I slip the card back into my pocket. “Bathroom,” I reply, feeling a twinge of guilt as I lie to my best friend. But it’s better this way. Beatrice doesn’t need to know about my secret life. Before she can question me further, I change the subject. “How’s Jesse?”

It works. She smiles salaciously toward the other end of the bar, where the object of her affection is sipping a beer and doing his best to pretend he isn’t staring at my friend. “I’m still working on him, but I think he’s up for a little spelunking.”


“In my lady-cave, duh.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Or persistent,” she says ruefully.

Judging from the covert looks Jesse’s sending Bea, it’s only a matter of time.

The music changes and the vibe of the bar changes with it. The deejay has taken over. The crowd on the dance floor erupts in cheers as a deep, pulsing beat flows through the speakers. “Come on,” Bea shouts over the noise. “Let’s dance.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she doesn’t give me the chance. Grabbing my arm, she tugs me off the stool and pulls me onto the dance floor. I roll my eyes and decide to go with the flow. When Bea gets like this, it’s easiest to just give in, and maybe a little dance therapy will help me forget about the business card that’s burning a hole in my jeans pocket.

Bea and I find a familiar routine, dancing around each other. The deejay is good. Each song seamlessly flowing into the next, and the beat is irresistible. My hips sway, and my arms lift over my head as I lose myself in the music. My eyes fall closed, and I can feel the stress I’ve been carrying around taking a backseat. At least for now.

After a couple of songs, Bea points at the bar and mimes getting a drink. I nod and move to follow her when a voice rumbles against my ear. “Dance with us, love.”

It’s Sexy British Guy.

Bea’s eyes widen, and she smiles from ear to ear, giving me a not-too-discreet thumbs up. Real subtle, Bea. Thanks a lot.

Piercing-Blue-Eyes steps in front of me, a smile on his lips. “Yes, dance with us, pretty girl.”

His ocean-blue eyes rake over my body from head to toe, lingering on my curves. Heat pools in my belly at his slow inspection. I didn’t think instalust was a thing… Until now.

“I’m Mateo,” Piercing-Blue-Eyes says, bending his head and whispering the words into my ear. “And my Welsh friend is Rhys.”

Rhys. Mateo. Even their names are sexy.

“I’m Aria.”

“Aria,” Rhys repeats, my name sounding way hotter when he says it with his Welsh accent. He puts his hand on my hip, and I stay where I am, making no effort to pull away. They’re Norm, and I’m absolutely positive I can take them, except I don’t want to.

With a warm chuckle, Rhys pulls me against his chest. Piercing-Blue-Eyes—Mateo—gives me a wicked smile before closing in.

Okay. I’m not bad looking, I know. Bea keeps telling me that if I put in a little effort, I’d be a total hottie. Of course, she’s my best friend. She’s supposed to say that.

I’ve had a couple of boyfriends, but nothing serious. Most Norms avoid shifters and living as I do with Silas, I’ve never quite fit in.

Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and it’s a little surreal.

Before I’ve made the conscious decision to dance with the men, my body is sandwiched between two hard bodies. The beat pulses in my blood. Every time their hands graze my body, a spark is lit. Every time Rhys whispers something into my ear, my insides throb with need. Every time Mateo’s eyes rest on me, desire unlike anything I’ve ever known overwhelms my better judgment.

One dance.

It’s past midnight. Cinderella is going to turn into a pumpkin, any moment now. This isn’t real life. This is some kind of fantasy, and I would be wise to remember it.

Yet I inch closer to them, my body sending a very different message. One they receive.

Two sets of hands roam over my curves. Two sets of lips whisper dirty promises. Two devastatingly handsome men make me forget that we are surrounded by people.

Until a drunken frat-boy crashes into us, nearly knocking me to the ground.

Rhys pulls me against his chest protectively. “You okay, love?”

His voice sends shivers down my spine. My nipples harden and my core clenches. How can three small words have such a massive impact on my body?

Welsh accent. I’m a sucker for it.

“Yeah… I’m… uh…” I take a half step away, shaking my head to clear some of the fog. I have to get away from these guys before all of my brain cells are toast. “I need to go find my Bea. I mean… my friend Bea.” That sounds legit, right?