Sebastian (Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Desired by a Dragon Book 3) Read online

  Sebastian

  Desired by a Dragon Book Three

  Terra Wolf

  Hailey Storm

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  The End

  From the Authors

  About the Author - Terra Wolf

  About the Author – Hailey Storm

  Copyright © 2016 Terra Wolf

  Sebastian, Desired by a Dragon

  All Rights Reserved worldwide.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this book at the authorized online outlets.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Some may be used for parody purposes. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

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  Chapter 1

  Casey

  I hoisted my cherry red suitcase off the baggage carousel and carefully set it on the carpeted floor upright. Someone bumped into me as I fought to release the extension on the handle. I stepped to the side to give them more room, still fighting with the darn handle on my suitcase. The thing was always getting stuck. It was probably time I bought a new luggage set, but I had too many fun traveling memories with this set. It was hard to let go. Violet, my older sister, had bought it for me before I traveled to my first book signing a few years ago.

  I’d been a nervous wreck attempting to stuff everything into my old gym bag and a backpack I’d bought thinking it would be big enough for my personal belongings while on the trip. Violet had saved the day when she showed up at my place with a matching set of red luggage. Honestly, I think I cried.

  I sank my teeth into my bottom lip as I stared at the suitcase before me. There was loads of sentimental value invested in the thing, too much to just toss it in the garbage.

  I squeezed the button on the handle and jiggled, hard. It released, biting off a chunk of my fingernail in the process. A few curse words pushed past my lips and I brought my finger to my mouth. Someone jostled me from the side again and I realized standing at the baggage carousel might not be smart. With my finger still in my mouth, I gripped the handle of my suitcase and wheeled away. I needed to find a café. A green tea something or other was exactly what I needed to calm my frazzled nerves. Flying sucked. No matter how many times I bought a ticket and took to the skies, the entire process of getting from point A to point B always wreaked havoc on my nerves.

  I wiped my finger on my jeans and began the hunt for a café. My eyes zeroed in on person after person gripping a Styrofoam cup. There had to be one nearby. For a moment, focusing on the people and noise of the place overwhelmed me. I smoothed my bangs away from my eyes and took a deep breath while wondering what had possessed me to hop on an airplane in the first place. My mind supplied the answer without much pause: because checking on Violet in person is important.

  I had a funny feeling my older sister had gotten herself mixed up with a con man of sorts. My sister wasn’t one to make rash decisions—she was a planner and a thinker—but somehow she’d managed to meet a guy and move in with him in the short span of a month. It was too out of character for her and didn’t set well with me. While I was all for insta-love—hell, I wrote about it—I wanted to make sure this wasn’t something more, like some prick toying with my sister’s fragile emotions. Violet had recently gotten out of a bad marriage. The guy had cheated on her and she’d caught him. It was what spurred her decision to pick up and move someplace new. I understood why my sister craved a fresh start, but jumping in a serious relationship so soon wasn’t like her.

  Paying Violet a surprise visit was the only way I’d be able to get a true feel for the situation. She couldn’t hide behind a phone when I was standing in front of her, and she couldn’t beat around the bush when I asked personal questions about the guy to the guy himself.

  My stomach twisted when I thought about how pissed Violet was going to be when I showed up on her doorstep unannounced, though.

  The heavenly scent of coffee fluttered to my nose, sidetracking my thoughts yet again. A large green and white sign caught my attention and I started power-walking toward it. While I wasn’t a coffee drinker the way my sister was, that didn’t mean I hated its rich aroma. In fact, I’d been known to burn a few coffee-scented candles while writing. I found the scent soothing.

  My pace picked up as the aroma intensified, my mind reminding me that where there was coffee, there was generally tea as well. I wheeled my suitcase along with me to the back of the line and waited my turn. Music played from tiny speakers hidden within the ceiling. I focused on the lyrics to the song playing. A line in the chorus called to me, shifting my thoughts to the novel I was currently working on. There was something about the alpha male in it that didn’t work the way I wanted. He was too brooding and dark, something I found most female readers enjoyed, but this was in excess. It didn’t fit with the story I was trying to craft. Maybe I was sick of writing that type of guy. I chewed my lip while I contemplated.

  Come to think of it, the last few alpha males I’d created had been overly brooding and dark. Shit.

  If you lumped them together in a room, they’d most likely appear to be carbon copies of one another. I was surprised my reader base hadn’t picked up on this yet and doled out harsh emails and one-star reviews for my unoriginality.

  Ugh, I was in a writer’s rut, and in desperate need of some alpha male inspiration.

  I glanced around, scoping out each male within the walls of the café. The bulk of them were business types dressed in slick suits, reading newspapers or chatting on their cell phones, appearing stressed and hurried. I hated businessmen, in fiction and real life. I’d tried numerous times to write them, but was never able to get their behavior or motivations down.

  My eyes continued wandering around the café until a couple of guys caught my eye. They looked as if they’d rolled out of bed and tossed on a backpack to parade around campus with. No alpha male there. More like sloppy hipster with a side of college boy.

  I kept looking until I spotted the guy behind the counter. He was exactly what I was looking for—chiseled features, short cropped blond hair, and massive blue eyes. He resembled one of the guys you’d see standing shirtless at the entrance to an overpriced clothing store in the mall. My lower belly warmed as I continued to ogle him. The reaction had me wondering if I could change a few physical traits of my alpha male in the story to match this guy’s because I would love to play out certain scenes with him in my mind as inspiration.

  The question was: Would it do anything to help my story if I changed my alpha’s physical characteristics? Honestly, I didn’t think it would.

  I’d probably find a way to turn him into a broody, dark guy with blond hair and blue eyes instead of black hair and g
ray eyes. It wasn’t my character’s physical appearance that was cramping my writing style, it was his personality traits. I needed something new. A different kind of guy. Something fresh. A comedian, maybe? Someone who was sexy as hell and could make my heroine laugh until she peed her panties. Or even a bookworm, nerdy guy who was sensitive and sweet.

  Although, it would be hard to make him seem like an alpha. Wouldn’t it?

  My mind dipped to thoughts of a guy with glasses bending a girl over a large stack of books and doing the dirty. He’d have to be kinky. Even then, it might not work.

  God, writer’s block sucked!

  I glanced around, searching for a guy who might meet either of those descriptions, but didn’t have any luck in finding one. The line moved forward, and so did I. Next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the Greek god, who seemed eagerly ready to take my order.

  “What can I get you?”

  I licked my lips as all sorts of tantalizing answers I could toss his way flipped through my mind.

  “Hey, I’ll take a green tea Frappuccino, please,” I said before any of them could spill free.

  My cheeks tinted pink as a cocky grin appeared on his face, making me wonder if he was a mind reader. Did he know I wanted to eat him because he looked like sex on a stick?

  “Whipped cream, yes or no?” A devilish gleam entered his eyes and I knew his question went far deeper than my Frappuccino.

  He was flirting with me. My heart picked up pace. It had been way too long since I’d flirted with someone or had anyone flirt with me for that matter. I didn’t enjoy calling myself a hermit, but I was sure others did. When I was on a deadline, I tended to order loads of takeout and refrain from stepping into the public eye. Heck, sometimes I refrained from showering for days. While this lifestyle might sound okay in moderation, somewhere along the line it had become my everyday life.

  The second I had a novel reach number one on a bestsellers list was the moment I dove into writing as a career full-time and put an end to the freelance writing I’d been doing for various online magazines and blogs. It was also when I sat down with a dry-erase board and mapped out my releases for the next year. Maybe I put too much pressure on myself by thinking I could knock out a book a month, but the money was motivation and there was no way I was stopping that train.

  “Depends,” I blurted, unbelieving that the word had come out of my mouth in such a flirty way.

  The Greek god centered his eyes on my chest. “I’m sure I can help you make up your mind about that.”

  “And why don’t you do that on your own time, when there isn’t a line all the way to the door.” The girl working the register beside him snapped, causing my face to flame through twenty shades of red.

  “Without. Thanks, though.” I began digging through my purse for my wallet.

  “I’m off in fifteen minutes if you’ve got time to spare,” he muttered as he rang up my order.

  I opened my mouth to answer him, but the girl beside him cut me off.

  “Just so you know, you’ll be number three today if you say yes.” There was a look of disgust in her eyes as she informed me of his player ways, but also something else.

  “I never said yes, and jealousy does not look good on you.” I pulled out a five and two ones from my wallet and passed them to the Greek god. “I’m flattered, but I really am pressed for time.” I would have said something about how disgusting his player ways were, but I didn’t want my Frappuccino to be spit in so I tried to play nice.

  “Got you. Maybe next time.” He winked while taking my money.

  I flashed him a small smile. There would be no next time. I’d be sure to steer clear of this café when I came back for my flight home. Once I had my beautiful green drink in hand, I headed toward the car rental place near the front entrance of the airport. Having Violet pick me up would have defeated the purpose of a surprise visit, so I’d rented a car for the week instead. It was supposed to be here, gassed and ready the second my flight landed. I brought up the confirmation email on my cell, just in case anyone decided to give me heck about it. I hoped I didn’t have to pull it out as proof, but it wouldn’t have been the first time. Sometimes technology could be fickle, and more often than not it wasn’t on my side.

  The rental place wasn’t hard to find, and thankfully it didn’t seem busy. There was one other person waiting at the counter when I walked through the door. I sipped my green tea as I waited my turn. The woman behind the desk passed a set of keys to the gentleman in front of me and pointed through the windows toward a large black truck.

  “Hello, how can I help you?” an older gentleman said as he stepped out from an office in the back.

  “Hi, I reserved a car a couple weeks ago from you.” I smiled.

  “And what’s your name?” He began typing on the computer in front of him.

  “Casey Gilbert.”

  “Found you,” he said without removing his eyes from the computer screen. “Looks like you’ve booked an economy car. Let me see what I have available.”

  I prayed it was something cute and easy to maneuver around in. I’d be the first to admit I was a terrible backer-upper. Seriously, the list of things I’d managed to plow into while backing up was incredibly long. Small, compact vehicles had less room for error, something I learned the hard way.

  “I have something available. Let me make sure it’s ready for you.” He grabbed a set of keys from the board along the wall. “I’ll be right back.”

  I continued to sip on my green tea as I watched him walk out the front doors. Little butterflies burst into flight through my stomach as I waited in anticipation to see which vehicle he was headed toward. When I saw him step to a red Prius, I felt like I’d won the freaking lottery. I’d always wanted to drive one, and red was my favorite color.

  So far, this trip was looking good. I’d been hit on by a Greek god, and I was getting to drive the car of my dreams for an entire week.

  Now all I needed to do was meet the guy who’d somehow managed to steal my sister’s heart so quickly, make sure she was okay, and find some inspiration for my latest novel.

  Chapter 2

  Sebastian

  Sweat poured down my back and dripped from my brow. It had to be close to ninety-five with a heat index of well over a hundred. I didn’t care, though. I loved the heat. All dragon shifters did. I figured it had something to do with fire being such a major part of our makeup.

  I reached for my wrench and removed the drain plug to my car. Old oil started flowing from my ‘67 Chevy Impala like molasses. As the oil continued to flow, I reached for the old air filter and switched it out. Once things were down to a slow drip, I tightened a few things and then wiped the remaining dribbles of oil off my baby.

  “There you go,” I muttered as I smoothed my fingertips along the underside of the car.

  She was my pride and joy. I’d saved for what felt like my entire life for this car, and I took great pleasure in keeping her running top notch.

  While wiping my hands on the rag I held, I started up the metal stairs leading out of the pit. Bobby, my boss, slapped me on the shoulder as I passed him at the top.

  “How’s old black beauty runnin’?” he asked in his crazy deep voice.

  Bobby was in his mid-sixties, and from what I’d gathered about him, he had lived in Willow Vale his entire life. Which was fine. It was a decent enough place. It wasn’t a big city, but it had a lot going for it if you were a shifter of any sort.

  Willow Vale was one of the few safe places in the states not corrupted by shifter territories. It was more along the lines of a safe haven for those of us who had either been exiled or didn’t feel like abiding by anyone else’s rules. While my family and I didn’t fall into either of those categories, Willow Vale had somehow become our home.

  “Beautifully.” I continued to wipe my hands on the rag.

  “I’m glad, but I’m gonna have to start dockin’ your pay for all the repairs you’ve been makin’ in my shop.�
� He wagged his finger at me. It took a second, but the slight smile I’d come to expect shifted across his face. Bobby was always busting my chops. “Ah, I’m just messin’ with ya, kid.” He squeezed my shoulder.

  “I knew you were.” I chuckled.

  Bobby was a mischievous old man. He also was a panther shifter, or at least I thought he was. I knew he wasn’t human—it was a sense I had, a sense every shifter had. We could always tell when someone was a part of the supernatural world, even if we couldn’t pinpoint exactly what they were. Which meant while I wasn’t one hundred percent sure Bobby was a panther because I’d never asked him flat-out or witnessed him shift, I suspected. Him and his four daughters. There was something cat-like about them; it was reflected in their eerie green eyes and lithe movements.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He waved my words away before continuing with whatever he’d been doing.

  “Hey, think maybe I could cut out early today?” My older brother, Silas had asked me to put new brakes on his girlfriend, Violet’s car this afternoon. I’d said I would because side jobs earned me extra cash, and every bit I gained allowed me to purchase new things to supe up my baby.

  “We have a couple more things booked for this afternoon, but nothing Charlie and Dean can’t handle by themselves.” Bobby crammed his hands into the front pockets of his work pants. “Why? You got a hot date you need to get ready for?”

  I shook my head as a wide grin sprang onto my face. Bobby was always making cracks at me. Hell, he was always making cracks at everyone. It was part of who he was. “Something like that.”

  I refused to tell him I sometimes accepted side jobs because I didn’t want to step on his toes or irritate him. I was thankful for the job he’d given me. Taking a job on the side wasn’t something I did often, and it wasn’t for anyone I knew would report back to him.