Page 9 of Here Be Dragons

Maybe she was concerned about the whole workplace fraternization thing. I knew humans disapproved of that. But that was a rule I was willing to break.

“Consider it a working lunch,” I said casually, even as my dragon scoffed. “I’ll give you a quick rundown of the museum’s history while we eat; it will help you with…all that.” I nodded to the disaster area that was my filing cabinet.

Stop treating her like a co-worker! She’s so much more.

“There’s no pressure,” I added hastily.

That was a big fat lie, considering my dragon was already plotting how to get her into our cave and keep her there forever. But my dragon had to be wrong. This human couldn’t be my mate. If she was, wouldn’t I know it as well? I didn’t have anything against humans in principle, but I always imagined myself being with another monster. One with wings, who could fly with me through the skies—

She doesn’t need wings. We will carry her.

Carly nodded firmly. “Sure. Let’s go tomorrow.”

Chapter 5

Carly

How the hell didI end up saying yes to a lunch date with Desmon? Despite him clarifying that we were just two co-workers going for lunch, it still felt like so much more than that. This was a very bad idea.

First, I officially now had a silly teenage-hormone-level crush on the guy. And second, I wasthis closeto being broke. Technically, I could afford one lunch, I guess, but that would leave me with precious little for next week’s groceries.

I honestly didn’t know why I’d stayed in New York so long. That city had drained me dry. I’d found this job just in time. I just needed to scrape by until my first paycheck. Then everything would be peachy keen.

My Darlington apartment was in one of the less reputable parts of town and in an old building, but it was much larger than the shoe box I’d had in New York. It was less than half the price, too, so I’d finally be able to start saving.

Everything would be fine. It was just one lunch. I’d survive until payday.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror propped up by my front door, making a note to pick up drywall anchors on the way home today. I was hoping that my accessories, a fun chunky necklace that just happened to be in the museum’s colors and a cute headband, were enough of a change that no one at work would notice I was wearing the exact same outfit underneath my uniform vest that I’d been wearing yesterday.

I’d sprayed my clothes down with a fabric refresher, and they smelled clean enough. That was the most important part, wasn’t it? I really needed to buy at least an extra pair of pants, though.

Damn it. It felt like my shopping list kept getting longer and longer, even as my bank account kept dwindling.

“Alright, Q-Tip, I’m heading out. Talk to you later.”

My Holland Lop rabbit stared back at me from his fenced-in, linoleum-lined section of the living room, chewing lazily on apiece of hay. It was the very first thing I’d set up when we moved in last week.

Q-Tip was one of the reasons why I’d gone for this apartment, even though it was kind of crappy compared to the other option. This place was pet friendly. The other one, not so much.

A sudden loud knock at my door surprised me, and I stifled a little yelp. I peered through the peephole and saw a man holding a package. I had been told that deliveries were made to the mailboxes and mail lockers downstairs, but the packages often ended up in the wrong slot. This must be a neighbor who got my package instead.

I’d done some online shopping when I arrived here last week and realized the box with all my bathroom stuff never made it from New York. I’d been dripping onto my bathroom floor sans bath mat like a heathen for about a week, though I did pick up a single towel at the big box store. The online option had been cheapest for everything else.

I realized that it wasnot, in fact, my neighbor the second I opened the door. In front of me stood a man I’d never seen, and behind him was Leonard, the janitor from work. What the hell was he doing here? But his presence wasn’t what had me trying to slam the door shut; it was the fact that the man had dropped the package and was instead brandishing a knife.

Oh fuck!

Don’t tell me I’d survived the shittiest part of New York only to get shanked in quaint little Darlington. The irony!

It was too late; Leonard had wedged his foot in the door, and it wasn’t closing.

“This the bitch?” asked the man with the knife.

“Yup, that’s her,” Leonard replied.

He moved his foot away, and I took the opportunity to try slamming the door again. But before I could lock it, he charged at it. The door flew open, smashing into my hand, and I scrambled back before it hit me in the face as well.

As the two of them forced their way into the apartment, I let out the loudest scream I could, but it was quickly silenced by a grubby hand across my mouth.

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