When two sexy as sin strangers enter her life, telling her they can shed light on her mysterious ‘gift’, her world is turned upside down.
Nathan, leader of the Scottish dragon clan, is shocked to find Ice, a dragon female, living in the human world. Not only is she unaware of her heritage, she also is a match made in heaven for Nate and his bonded male, Dom.
When Nathan calls him to the city to meet their mate, Dominic is immediately smitten.
As Ice spends time with the two males, it becomes clear that they all share a mutual desire, but are scared to act on their deeper feelings.
Can their heady, lust-filled nights lead to a lasting commitment and happiness for the three?
Chapter One
Methodically, Ice wrapped the bandages around her hand, occasionally glancing at her reflection. The bruises from her last fight had purpled on her arms, and her cut lip puffed out.
Tonight presented her biggest challenge to date. She focused on her breath. In for three, hold for five, out for seven. Her heart rate slowed in response. Flowers stood to her right, a bright splash of color in an otherwise monochromatic room of peeling grey and white paint.
The smell of sweat mixed with body spray soothed her, the changing room odor comforting. Here, in the silence before a fight, she focused on meditation and calming breathing rituals. Out there, in the cage, she became her true self. A deadly calm fighting force others bowed before. Ice.
“Ten minutes.” The knock at her door, and the bellow of her manager focused her mind further. His Scottish accent sharpened considerably before a bout, and she always thought he must be as pumped with adrenalin as the fighters.
She’d banned him, or anyone else, from disturbing her in the hour before a fight. Other fighters wanted to be talked to, their egos bolstered, moves discussed. Not her. She wanted to find her calm center. The one she used to ground herself in the midst of the crazy rush that burst forth when she walked out into the arena. The lights blinding, music pumping, and the crowd roaring. Friday night in Glasgow, and the crowd proved more than lively.
Hands wrapped in protective tape, she flexed her fingers and shook her arms at her sides, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
She turned to her reflection once more. Gazing critically, she narrowed her eyes. A strong nose and jaw lent her a somewhat masculine appearance. She’d never been the pretty, curvy type guys went for. Still, today she looked like crap with her war wounds. Head cocked to the side, she stuck her tongue out at her reflection and turned away.
“You can do this. You can bring the bitch down. You are a survivor, and you’ll survive the Shredder. Stay calm and lock yourself in, so you only hurt her as much as you have to.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Shit! Each time she gave herself this pep talk, she flashed back to him. The asshole who’d assaulted her. Hating the mental image of the large man looming over her as she struggled to be free, she blinked twice to dislodge the unwelcome memory. Before a fight wasn’t the time to think about him, or the things she’d done to him. Things she’d no control over and didn’t want to think about.
She’d spiraled afterwards, until the day her mum suggested self-defense classes.
Just try it, Claire. From the first class, her affinity for martial arts had shone through. Over time, she’d become Ice. All her horror at what lived inside her, what she’d done to him, she buried deep under a layer of frozen calm.
She crossed the room and carefully took the gold cross from around her neck. She placed it in a jewelry box on top of an old filing cabinet. Then she popped the box inside the second drawer and covered it with some dusty old papers. She’d hate for it to get ripped off in a fight.
With a quick one-two-punch and a bounce of her feet, she shook off her melancholy. She’d become a fighter, and she needed to live up to her warrior name. Editor of stuffy books by day, fighter by night. If things went well, she’d maybe one day make the leap to the big-money circuit, instead of the spit and sawdust amateur shows she did now.
Base boomed through the building, the music loud as the build-up to the fight started. Stomping feet accompanied the noise. Her adrenalin spiked, all her teary-eyed melancholy gone as the pre-fight rush built. Her heart pumped to the beat of hundreds of feet. Goosebumps broke out along her arms. She inserted her mouth guard and growled.
Showtime!
Nathan didn’t believe what he’d seen. Two human females knocking ten tons of hell out of one another! His people never let females do such a thing. They were too rare and precious.
He shifted in his uncomfortable seat. Bright lights flooded the arena, which along with the noise and stench made him feel sick. Gods above, he hated spending time in human company—well, except for the odd female for some fun and games. But crowds of them? He shuddered. The sounds and scents of their lives were too much for his exquisite senses to bear. Their shrill shouts and body odor were the worst. He’d only come because his financial adviser, a competent man, kept bugging Nathan to do something social with him. So far, he’d managed to avoid the opera, theatre, drinks, and a golf day. This occasion, though, he’d been caught on the hop. He’d, stupidly, admitted to staying in town for two nights to conduct business, and David had pounced. Another client had let David down and left him holding two tickets to something called a Mixed Martial Arts night. Having time to kill, and nothing better to do, he’d agreed. Only to find himself in this version of hell.