Last Immortal Dragon (Gray Back Bears #6)(5)

“Do you know why Mason has brought you here?”

“To exorcise your ghosts?” Please lawd, let it not be to serve as dinner for this monster shifter.

“I’m afraid not. Apparitions don’t bother men like me.”

She pointed. “There’s one right there and another right there—”

“Didn’t say they weren’t there, Ms. Sutterfield. Only that they don’t bother me.”

“Are they people you’ve…”

Damon’s eyes narrowed to slits. “People I’ve what? Say what’s on your mind.”

“Are they people you’ve killed?”

Damon cast another quick glance over his shoulder, then rested his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands in front of his mouth. With a challenging look in his eyes, he smiled coldly and said, “Perhaps.”

She cleared her throat so her voice wouldn’t come out all pitchy and terrified. “You don’t have to call me Ms. Sutterfield. Please call me Clara.” Yes, that’s right. Make him realize she was an actual person and maybe he wouldn’t serial kill her.

“Clara, you can call me Damon. Now, please have a seat.”

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Thank you, Damon, but I’d rather stand.” Over here where the man couldn’t reach her.

He angled his head, never taking those bright silver eyes from her. “As you wish.” He sighed and pulled a stapled stack of paperwork from a drawer in his sprawling desk. “Mason brought you here to see if you would be agreeable to breeding with me.”

Clara’s mouth flopped open. “Say what now?”

“I would pay you a substantial amount of money in return for bearing my offspring.”

“Sex?” Really? That was the only word she could push past her tightening vocal chords right now?

“No sex. I like it less personal than that. We would let the doctors help us get you pregnant.”

“Less personal. Right.” She was floating. With a frown, she looked down at her neon pink flip flops, but nope, they were still embedded in the thick carpet. “This looks expensive.”

“The carpet?”

“Yeah.” The word came out breathy and meek. What an impressive dominant grizzly shifter she made.

Damon blinked slowly, then shook his head and dragged his attention back to the papers in his hand. “I can see you aren’t up for the contract, so I’ll bid you ado.”

Her legs felt like bouncy springs as she stumbled toward the chair and plopped down into it. “Obviously my answer is ‘no’ to bearing your…offspring. Gross word. But I’m curious about your pitch. Am I the first woman you’ve proposed this to?”

“Males of my species traditionally raise the offspring—”

“Why is that?”

A blaze of emotion struck through Damon’s eyes like a flash of lightning, there and gone before his face was a mask of passive indifference again. “Because the females all die during childbirth.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds hellish. What kind of shifter are you?”

Another soft, growling rumble vibrated against her skin, so she clamped her mouth shut and reached her hand out.

His eyes narrowed, but he stood and leaned over his desk, then set the paperwork gently into her palm. Across the top, it read Binding Contract.

“Do you usually let Mason choose your conquests?”

Damon was quiet for a long time as he studied her face before he said, “No. He’s never brought me a female before. I usually choose who to interview.”

“Why did he start with me?”

Damon shook his head slowly, apparently unwilling to answer.

“Fine, who’s Feyadine?”

“Ms. Sutterfield, I think it’s best if you go now.” The use of her formal name hurt in ways she couldn’t explain. “I’ll pay you double whatever Mason offered you for your trouble, but this won’t work.”

She huffed a laugh and nodded, then stood. “Just as well. I’ve already tried the doctors, and they couldn’t do anything for me.”

“You want a child?” he asked abruptly.

“Don’t worry about paying me double,” she said, biting back stinging tears as she strode for the door. “I don’t want your money.”

“Ms. Sutterfield. Clara!”

She turned, lip trembling as she allowed him to see the anger in her eyes.

“What is the tattoo on your shoulder?”

“A dragon.” Tortured, she swallowed hard and then admitted in a whisper, “I dream of them.” Then she turned and pulled on the door handle, and this time, it opened easily. She shut the door behind her and jogged down the echoing hallway toward Mason, who waited by the suit of armor. His expression was bleak and sad.

Shattering glass echoed from the office, and the house rattled with a deafening roar. The noise filled her head, so Clara covered her ears to save her sensitive eardrums as she ran.

That sound held such pain. More pain than any man ought to hold.

Damon Daye said ghosts didn’t bother men like him.

Damon Daye had lied.





Chapter Three




Damon gripped his stomach and willed his dragon to stay inside of him. His office was no place to Change. And yet the rage that unfurled within him, the loss, devastation, hope, longing, and crippling loneliness were too much to bear. Was this what it was like to die?