The Billionaire Dragon Shifter Meets His Match: BBW Paranormal Romance (Gray's Hollow Dragon Shifters Book 6) (9 page)

Well, he could at least solve
that
problem for her.

When they turned onto Michigan Avenue, the long promenade of shops unfurling before them, each of the jewelry stores was as apparent to his senses as if it were sending up a searchlight.

Gold! Gold here! Lots of gold!
It took him a moment to corral his senses and remember the map he’d looked up before, refining his impressions from the cacophony.

“All right,” he murmured, trying to focus past the nearest stores clamoring for his attention. “Tiffany and Cartier are both about halfway down. Which one would you like to clean out first?”

Jane made a little despairing noise and pressed her face to his chest. Laurence smiled down at her and held her close.

Don’t you go getting me drunk like that right out of the gate
, Jane admonished, which would have sounded stern if he couldn’t feel the thrumming gold-lust under the words.
You owe me clothes! I won’t be able to think straight if we go right for the hard stuff.

“As my lady dragon wishes,” Laurence murmured, taking a step back and catching Jane’s hand to kiss her knuckles. He paused a moment to study her distressingly ringless fingers, but that was another problem he would soon be able to solve for her. “Where would you like to start?”

“There’s a seamstress I visited a couple of times,” Jane murmured. “Special occasions, you know. I always told myself if

I could ever afford it, I would come back and order tons of clothes from her; she does amazing things and never complains about her clients not being a size two. I mean, it helps that a lot of us are either dragons or mated to them, so she knows we’re all quite happy looking like we’ve never gone hungry, but she does beautiful work.”

“Lead on,” Laurence agreed, and Jane set off into the complex of shops attached to the Four Seasons, leading him past the brightest storefronts to a discreet glass door with a simple plaque.

A gray-haired woman whose age he couldn’t quite guess stepped out to greet them as they crossed the threshold. “Ah, Jane, my dear! It’s been so long.”

“I’m sorry, I know I don’t have an appointment, but I—” Jane gestured helplessly toward Laurence, smiling that giddy smile again. The woman didn’t seem to hear Jane’s unspoken burble of
I met my mate, look at him, he’s magnificent, he wants to buy me things!

It was possible she was just being tactful.

Laurence slipped his black card from his pocket and said, “I assume this will cover any added charges for showing up unannounced, as well as anything the lady wants.”

The seamstress glanced down at the card, turning it this way and that. Laurence half expected her to bite the corner of it, the way humans used to test gold. She tapped it against a slim black phone she drew from her pocket instead, and allowed him to see her looking mildly impressed, though not so impressed that he could think she hadn’t seen this sort of thing before.

“That ought to cover everything the lady could possibly want,” the seamstress agreed, handing the card back to Laurence.

She smiled warmly at Jane. “Well, my dear, where shall we begin?”

***

Jane surrendered the clothes she’d arrived in and stood to have all her measurements taken, murmuring a few small requests as she did. Madame Violaine merely nodded and adjusted her dressmaking model to Jane’s exact dimensions, and then instead of having her put her own clothes back on as she had when Jane came to be fitted for a single dress, she gave Jane a delicious silk wrapper and directed her to sit down on the loveseat where Laurence was already lounging. He had watched her measurements being taken with heavy-lidded eyes, and curled a possessive arm around her as soon as she sat down.

From there it was a couple of pleasant hours of nibbling chocolates and sipping tea while Madame Violaine brought her sketches and swatches of fabric. Laurence didn’t seem to have any particular opinions about women’s clothing, except that Jane should have as much of it as she liked, of all the finest materials available. He did appear to share Jane’s preference for deep, vivid reds in particular, but Madame Violaine made sure that Jane chose a variety of colors.

He seemed quite taken aback when Madame Violaine ushered in a gray-haired gentleman in a three-piece suit and said, “Your turn, sir, I believe.”

Laurence raised his eyebrows and looked, not at the seamstress or the tailor, but at Jane.
My lady dragon?

Turnabout is fair play
, Jane informed him, with silent, cheerful decisiveness.
Go on, I want a turn watching
.

Laurence heaved a put-upon sigh but pressed a smiling kiss to her temple before he stood, stripping out of his own clothes with quick movements. It was only when Jane saw his scars again that she remembered why, despite his magnificent body, he might be shy about stripping in front of strangers. He showed no hesitation, though, and the tailor and Madame Violaine made no remark. They measured him quickly and efficiently before sending him back to her side in a silk robe of his own.

Jane pulled him close, running her fingers through his hair as he leaned against her, and the tailor brought out sketches for Laurence to choose from. Laurence did have distinct opinions on suits—three piece, shades of gray from gunmetal to charcoal, American-style—but surrendered to Jane’s preferences for his shirts and ties. Jane chose silk for all of them, and a wild array of colors, though she returned most often to the deep, dark reds.

After the third time she lingered over a choice between crimson and scarlet, Laurence said,
How did you know? Does it show somehow?

Jane met his eyes, and he reached out and touched the nearest swatch.
My dragon is this color.

Jane raised her eyebrows.
So is mine. I want you clothed in my colors, my lord dragon
.

And you in mine, my lady
, Laurence agreed.
But that seems to be a foregone conclusion
.

She kissed him softly right there, and only returned to making selections when Madame Violaine returned with more tea and chocolates.

They had a proper lunch afterward at the Four Seasons, both wearing new clothes that had been swiftly altered for them while they made their other choices; the rest of the clothes would be delivered to Jane’s home over the course of the next several days. Jane wore a lovely new silk dress, nearly as pleasant to wear as the wrapper (which had been tucked into a bag for her to take, along with Laurence’s). Laurence wore slim-fitting dark jeans and a gray sweater with a silvery sheen, made of a blend of silk and yak hair that felt as soft as a cloud. Jane could barely keep her hands off him, and Laurence’s hand rested on her thigh throughout lunch, warm enough to make the thin layer of silk separating them seem like nothing at all.

After lunch, Laurence asked, “Where next, treasure?”

Jane could feel the pull of gold leading her onward, and knew that Laurence’s casual offer to buy out the finest jewelry stores on Michigan Avenue had been perfectly sincere. But she was a dragon too, eager to see her mate properly adorned even if she was using his fortune to do it, and there was one more stop she wanted to make first.

“Chanel,” Jane announced, leading Laurence across the street to the exclusive boutique.

He followed happily, and she could feel him picturing her choosing perfumes and purses, radiating a dragon’s contentment at supplying yet more treasures to his mate.

She wouldn’t deny him that—there were bound to be a few things she’d like to have for herself in the boutique—but Jane had something else in mind. She saw a saleswoman size them up as soon as they stepped inside, tallying up the quality of their clothes and the purposeful gleam in Jane’s eyes, recognizing
here to spend real money
before she’d even reached them.

She pitched her voice to an appropriately respectful tone as she said, “How may I help you today, ma’am, sir?”

Jane smiled and freed her fingers from Laurence’s, sliding them down to his wrist, where the soft sweater covered his dragonglass and the scars it left. “My partner is in desperate need of a new watch. Something in gold.”

The woman’s lips parted, but she said, “Of course—the Chanel Monsieur is 18 karat beige gold, an exclusive alloy developed for Chanel. If you’ll come this way...”

Jane
, Laurence protested mildly, even as he came with her, still allowing her grip on his wrist.
I don’t need a watch
.

You need to wear more gold to counteract that dragonglass
, Jane told him, trying to sound as much like a mother hen as she could when her dragon could only feel the anticipation of giving gold to her mate.
Exclusive alloy
sounded particularly pleasing;
beige
wasn’t a particularly alluring term, but she’d done some looking online, and if the rich coppery brown looked as gorgeous in real life as it had in pictures...

It looked better. Jane barely swallowed a moan of pleasure at the sight of it, and she felt Laurence get a little dazed with gold-lust, obviously forgetting his resistance to the idea. Jane held her hand out for the watch, and the saleswoman laid it reverently in her palm.

When she turned toward Laurence with it—putting her body between him and the saleswoman—he pushed up his sleeve and the dragonglass both, offering his wrist. She fastened the watch in place and studied it thoughtfully.

The watch itself and the clasp of the band were both gold, and it looked very good on Laurence’s wrist, covering the worst of the scars and pushing the dragonglass back to unmarked skin. The black leather of the band looked shallow next to the gleaming blackness of dragonglass, though, and Jane could sense what she wanted being held just out of reach.

“Mm,” she said, making her voice dubious and forcing herself to unfasten the clasp, removing the gift from Laurence’s wrist, though it hurt to take it back. Laurence himself kept quiet, instinctively understanding her intention. “It’s lovely, of course, but a leather band just won’t do. Can it be exchanged for gold?”

The saleswoman looked startled. “The beige gold—it would have to be a custom design, in order to match, and the price—”

Jane sighed and liberated Laurence’s black card from his pocket, waving it imperiously. “I didn’t ask about the price, or whether it would be a custom design. I asked whether it could be done, because this leather band isn’t acceptable.”

The saleswoman’s hand jerked toward the black card and then fell back. “Let me just see what we can do, ma’am. I’ll just be a moment—please, come and sit, I’ll send out refreshments.”

Jane allowed herself to be led over to another comfortable seat where she could cuddle discreetly with Laurence while being waited upon.

Beside her, she could feel Laurence greedily observing her delight.
Maybe I should just put the black card on a chain, and hang that around your neck,
he thought, nuzzling at her hair.
Shopping like a billionaire’s wife isn’t exactly the kind of gift I can see you wearing
.

You’ll just have to stay and watch me doing it as often as I like
, Jane informed him firmly. She tilted her bare throat for him to consider all the other things he might have a chance to hang around her neck today.

Rubies
, he told her, tracing one finger along her collarbone to the tender place at the base of her throat where she usually wore the dragonglass medallion of the Georgian Corps.
Set in gold, of course, but rubies around your throat, treasure. You’ll wear our colors so beautifully
.

“Ma’am, sir.” Another woman had come out from the back of the store, carrying a watch case in both hands that seemed to glow in Jane’s sight. She could feel the gold inside even while it was hidden from view. “Alison informed me of your request, and I believe this might be acceptable, if you would care to view it.”

The woman stepped close enough to offer the watch case, and Jane took it and opened it to reveal exactly what she had wanted—the Chanel Monsieur watch with a beige gold band of heavy square links, thoroughly masculine and just what her mate ought to be adorned with. Laurence offered his wrist again, and Jane fastened it in place.

Oh
, he said to her silently, and she could feel the relief and pleasure of the gold against his skin and scars.
Yes. I do like this, treasure.

Jane smiled at the woman and said, “Thank you, we’ll take it,” even as she set her hand over Laurence’s wrist, brushing her thumb over the clasp of the band and the knob at the side of the watch. She handed over Laurence’s black card without bothering to ask the new price, or indeed the original price, of the watch.

When the woman had walked away to settle the matter of payment, Laurence turned his wrist to see what Jane had done to the watch. He laughed softly and kissed her when he saw that the Chanel lions decorating the watch had been reshaped into dragons.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “A worthy gift, Jane. But now you’re going to have to let me give you even more, to repay it.”

“Well,” Jane said cheerfully, eyeing the other jewelry cases arrayed tastefully around the boutique. “If you insist.”

***

They had to take a cab home from Cartier; Jane could only wear three necklaces at once, plus a few bracelets and rings. She’d been able to talk Laurence into a couple of chains to wear in addition to his watch, but no more. The rest went into the glossy, thick-papered shopping bags that crowded the backseat of the cab. Jane felt giggly and half-drunk from the cascade of gifts her mate had bestowed, and the warm weight of gold around her throat and wrists and fingers.

They kissed slowly all the way home, luxuriating in every touch. When they arrived back at Jane’s house, Laurence paid the driver and scooped up the assorted bags, leaving Jane free to unlock the door and lead him inside.

She set her purse down by the door, and thought of her phone—and the message she’d been awaiting—for the first time in hours. She felt abruptly, unpleasantly sober. Jane bit her lip, casting an anxious look at Laurence, and he replied with a silent, wordless question.

“I should look at my phone,” she said. “But I really don’t want to look at my phone.”

Laurence set the bags down by the stairs and came over to her, taking her into his arms. He pressed her against him and kissed her deeply, thoroughly, his body hot and strong against hers, his tongue owning her mouth. She was gasping when he pulled back, and she stared up at him with dazed eyes.

“Look at your phone, treasure,” Laurence murmured. “I’ll be upstairs waiting for you when you’re done.”

Jane moaned, frustration and surrender all at once. Laurence kissed her one more time and then stepped away, gathering up all that lovely new jewelry and taking it away with him. Jane stood still for a moment, appreciating the sound of someone else—her mate—moving around the big, quiet house that had been hers alone for too long.

Then fished her phone out of her purse and checked her messages.

Mom

On the ground at O’Hare
.

Mom

It seems you’re a bit distracted. I’ll be staying at HQ, call when you’re free.

Jane wanted desperately to insist that she wasn’t free yet, that she was still unavoidably distracted by Laurence. She heard the rustling of tissue paper as bags were unpacked. He was moving quietly around the third floor, exploring what she hadn’t shown him yet.

She sighed and took her phone to the kitchen, where she sat down on the hardest, most sensible chair in the house and dialed her mother’s number.

“Hello, Jane,” her mother said after the first ring. “I’ve been going over what happened with William.”

Kolodziej
, to Jane’s mother, was William’s father, who she had worked with as a George for decades. William must have told his father, who told Jane’s mother, who had come here to get the story direct from William since she couldn’t get it immediately from Jane.

“What are you planning to do?” Jane asked, her voice coming out small when she meant to sound cool and businesslike.

“First, I need to assess my daughter’s situation,” her mother said briskly, just the way Jane always wanted to sound and never quite did. “You’re
sure
he’s your mate, Janie? Absolutely sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Jane said. “Mom, you know what it’s like.”

“I do know what it’s like,” Jane’s mother agreed. “But up until yesterday you didn’t. Everyone makes mistakes; are you sure you haven’t?”

“I’m sure,” Jane repeated, leaving out anything for her mother to argue with. “Yes. Laurence is my mate.”

“And have you made that official?”

Jane felt herself flush hot, her hand going to the gold and rubies at her throat. He’d given her gifts, but not gifts from his hoard, nor had she given him gifts from hers. Not really, not properly.

“Not yet,” Jane said. “He’s... hesitant, for a lot of very good reasons.”

“I should hope
you
would be hesitating to bind yourself to a dragon who’s declared his attention to commit open unlawful murder, Jane.”

“He
didn’t
—” Jane snapped, well aware that Laurence had said exactly that.

“William has stated that he did,” Jane’s mother said, after a pause just long enough to make it clear that she had left Jane an opportunity to explain herself, or Laurence, and Jane had conceded the point by keeping silent.

“Jane, you know I love you and your father, but we are the Corps, and we exist for a reason. Dragons are extraordinary creatures, and
someone
must keep the peace, and if this dragon—”

“His name is Laurence,” Jane put in, though it was no kind of argument.

“Laurence, then,” her mother said carelessly. “If Laurence makes himself an outlaw, he will be subject to the Hunt, and your duty will be clear.”

Jane went cold with horror. “No.
Mom
. No, you can’t—you can’t say that.”

“I don’t mean that you should
participate
, obviously,” her mother said, still sounding perfectly calm. “Just as you can’t investigate the question of where he’s come from and what kind of enclave produces dragons who will tell a George to his face that they mean to commit murder—”

“He doesn’t want to murder anyone,” Jane interposed. “He didn’t know he was inciting a challenge, he didn’t issue a challenge, he doesn’t want to pursue it. That’s all Farrell, not Laurence. If Farrell would just leave him alone—”

“If he can’t deal with other dragons without murdering them, he’s not fit to be loose in society, and I know you know that. I know you’ve just been waiting for the day you’ll be trusted to join the Hunt.”

Jane closed her eyes, pressing the necklace Laurence had fastened around her throat into her skin. “Not like this, not against a dragon like him. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He doesn’t. He’s so careful, he—”

“Careful with you, kind to his mate, is not the same as able to live in the world without endangering everyone, Janie. You know that. Hard cases make bad law, you know that too. I’m sorry that he’s been raised to believe this is acceptable—that’s not his fault, but the fact remains. If he cannot control himself, if he breaks the laws, it will be the position of the Georgian Corps that he must die, and I expect you to remember who you are in that event. The Corps expects you to, or else you will also face judgment for your actions.”

“No,” Jane repeated. “No, he’s my mate, you can’t—you can’t expect me to betray him or stand aside. You
can’t
.”

She had always known that: when she found a mate, she would finally have one loyalty that she didn’t have to question. No more of being too much dragon for the Corps and too much a George for other dragons. She would be expected, allowed,
required
to place her loyalty to her mate above all others, and no one on either side could doubt it.

They weren’t supposed to doubt it.

“He is not officially your mate,” her mother said firmly. “And even if he were—he is hardly the mate anyone would expect a member of the Georgian Corps to take. Good Lord, Jane, do you know what I had to do to keep your father from coming up here? What if he took it into his head to challenge your father for the right to mate you?”

“That’s...” Jane said faintly, but she couldn’t deny the new horror of the idea. Laurence going up against her father in a fight that was normally as traditional and controlled as a dance when it took place at all, Laurence
fighting
her gentle, artistic father for her...

“All we know of him is what he’s told us, Janie,” her mother said gently. “And he’s told us that he means to kill Ray Farrell. If you believe that he won’t, then that’s one thing, and we’ll all be relieved. Anyone might bluster among strangers, anyone might say things he doesn’t mean when he’s been detained, we all know that. But William believes he was in earnest, and you haven’t told me that he wasn’t.”

“I believe he...” Jane folded over, curling down as small as she could as she curled her fingers around the solidity of the necklace she wore. “I believe he wants to be better than he fears he is. I believe he
can
be. But he needs time, Mom. He’s barely ever had contact with other dragons. He’s never dreamed of this kind of challenge. He doesn’t know any of the rules or laws or treaties. Please, we need time.”

“Janie, the kind of time it would take—the Corps can’t spare you forever, even if he means to somehow keep sanctuary in the city for years. And Farrell won’t leave it at that, he’ll press the challenge.”

“Can’t you...” Jane swallowed, pitching her voice diffidently, “Mom, please. You’re here, and I know you came up here to help. I hear what you’re saying, even if I can’t react to it calmly right now. I need time, and Laurence needs time if there’s to be any hope of a good resolution—I know it can’t be forever, but even just days to get our heads around this...”

Her mother exhaled. “Janie...”

“Please,” Jane repeated. “Mom, I need your help. Can you please just run interference with Farrell? I know he won’t back down, but if anyone could persuade him to accept some kind of terms, or
something
...”

“The fact remains,” her mother said. “If Laurence is that kind of dragon, drawing this out is no kindness to anyone. But of course you’re emotional, you’ve only just met him. I’ll see how much time we can give you, Janie. But you can’t work until this is resolved, and if nothing else the Corps will want to push a resolution because we need you back. You make a pretty ugly gap in the Chicago roster right now.”

“Sorry,” Jane said in a small voice, because it always came down to apologizing to someone. “I just... when I look at him...”

“Oh, Janie,” her mom said, sounding on the brink of expressing some actual emotion.

Jane could barely breathe, dreading it and hoping for it all at once, and then her mother said briskly. “I’ll see what I can do. I won’t keep you any longer. Call again when you can.”

“Okay,” Jane choked out, and her mother hung up.

Jane let go of her phone, pushing on the gold in the case until it slid across the kitchen floor and under the refrigerator.

Now, Janie
, she could hear her mother saying.
What does that solve?

Jane shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself, and then she heard a very tentative voice, the only one she wanted to be hearing in her head right now.

Jane, treasure?

Jane squeezed her eyes more tightly shut.
Laurence. Did you hear any of that?

“You didn’t want me to.”

Jane looked up sharply and saw Laurence standing in the kitchen doorway. He was barefoot, but otherwise still dressed; she could see the lovely gleam of his new watch on his left wrist, the glint of chains tucked under his sweater.

“So I was careful not to,” Laurence said. He came closer one step at a time, and Jane knew it was the only way he was restraining himself from running. If he attacked her
mother
—

“Treasure,” he said softly, dropping to his knees and looking up at her. There was no sign of flames there, only anxious sadness, the same kind that roiled through her right now.

She wished he was angry. She wished
she
was angry. It would be such a comfort to be angry right now; she could see why Laurence had stuck to it for so long.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I—I just—”

“Shh,” Laurence murmured. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to apologize to me for being upset. I—I wish I could help. You know if there’s anything I can do I’ll do it, don’t you?”