Dragon Me to Your Lair: A dragon shifter story (Dragons of Emberside Book 1) by Thalia Frost

 
     
    Dragon Me to Your Lair
     
    (Dragons of Emberside 1)
     
    by
     
    Thalia Frost
     
    Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.
     
    Cover art design: Melody Simmons
     
     
     
     
    “Need a hand with that, lass? It's almost as big as you are.”
    Twenty-two year-old Skye MacLeod turned to look into the greenest eyes she had ever seen. And the rest of the man standing next to the taxi wasn't so bad either. Black hair and skin shimmering with sweat were topped off by a tall, muscular frame. Did he always go around not wearing a shirt? If so, he must have a lot of women of a certain age panting at his heels. His six pack was to die for.
    “I think I can do it. It's the last bag. Thanks anyway.” She was unloading the taxi from the airport, her tone curt.
    He must be the caretaker. I pictured him as an 80 year old with a bad attitude, not a stud at my beck and call.
    Skye had purposely chosen to live in Emberside on the Isle for the summer in order to avoid too many people. Solitude for work is what she wanted—that and the scenery she had heard about all her life from Gran, her great grandmother.
    “You must see it before you die, my girl,” was her catchphrase. She had loved home but had immigrated to America as a wee girl in the early 1930s for a better life, along with her family. She had shared many descriptions of the rocky caves and grassy highlands and how magical they were with her great granddaughter. They had made an impression on a young girl with wanderlust.
    And now she's gone—for three months now.
    Skye tried to shake off the sadness she felt every time she thought of Gran's death. She had been a strong woman and Skye's touchstone.
    “If ye say so.” He shrugged, watching her struggle with the suitcase.
    His brogue was thick. She loved it.
    Down, girl. He might be a serial killer, for all you know.
    It would take a special type of person to live out here. Though it was lovely with the sea within hearing distance, rolling and spraying, and hills and craggy clefts, it was isolated.
    “This is a nice place—quiet like,” the man said, walking behind her as she dragged the two huge suitcases along the ground.
    She stopped, puffing. “Here. Take one of these since you're tagging along!”
    He laughed. “I'm glad you changed your mind. You haven't asked who I am yet. For all you know, I could be the village pervert.”
    “You probably are.” Skye avoided his gaze, not looking behind her as he grabbed the other bag, his warm hand brushing hers.
    She walked the distance of the winding, smooth stone path to the white painted, green shuttered cottage. A thrill of excitement went through her.
    This is going to be perfect—if Mr. Studly here will leave me alone and let me work.
    “So, why are ye here, Ms.? Just a tourist? We get many of those for summers.” He put her suitcase down on the small porch with a thud.
    “Careful. I have breakables in there.” She glared at him and struggled with the key.
    Maybe he'll go away if I act like a bitch.
    “It sticks a bit. I haven't gotten around to that yet.” The caretaker grinned and turned it with ease.
    Skye sighed and pushed open the door. Her irritation lessened and gave way to satisfaction when she saw the interior of the small cottage. Rustic paintings of the moors peppered the clean, white walls, and every piece of furniture seemed chosen for comfort. Shades of sage and white made for a soothing feel to the place. The real showpiece of the kitchen to the left was its picture window—three panes and a marvelous view of waving grasses and craggy rocks, dropping down to the jade colored sea.
    “Gorgeous, isn't it?” The man behind her cleared his throat.
    “Yes, it is. A perfect place for peace and quiet. And to answer your question, that's what I'm here for—to write without being bothered.” She turned and looked at him pointedly.
    Damn. Those muscles. They're distracting.
    “Ah, that. Sorry. I had heard something like that, actually.” He