Last Immortal Dragon (Gray Back Bears #6)(8)

Clara tinked hers against Willa’s and shook her head before she slammed the shot of throat-scorching liquid. Why the hell not? She could use a stiff drink after the day she’d had.

“Sooo, Clara Beara, why ya cryin’?” Willa asked, slouching back in the seat and resting her rainbow converse sneakers on the headrest in front of her.

Clara pursed her lips, uninterested in sharing how na?ve she’d been. “Why are you wearing glasses? Bears shifters have excellent vision.”

“Oh, these.” Willa shoved them farther up her nose, nerd-style. “Matt, my mate, is into real geeky shit, so when I want him frisky, I pull out the glasses. They have no magnification. They’re for sex-appeal only.”

“Huh. I like that,” Clara admitted as the edges of her vision went fuzzy, and she got that weightless feeling only a good shot of vodka could give her.

“What’s this?” Willa asked, pulling the rumpled binding contract from Clara’s lap.

That damning paperwork should’ve been embarrassing, but she would never see Willa again after today, and frankly, Mason had turned off her give-a-damn switch. “That would be part of the reason I’m crying.”

“Big dominant grizzly shifter brought to tears by paper,” Willa murmured, flipping to the second page with a distracted look as she read. “Holy shit. Is this what I think it is? And ew, please tell me his pitch didn’t actually involve him calling you a breeder.”

“That’s me. Breeder to…whatever terrifying shifter Damon is.”

Willa’s eyebrows arched high, and her chestnut brown eyes went round. “Dragon, boo. This is a contract to boink the last immortal dragon.”

Clara gripped the empty bottle in her hand as if the tiny thing would anchor her to this world. “I’m sorry. I just thought you said dragon.”

“Like that sexpot tattoo you’re rockin’ on your shoulder blade. Fire fire, pew pew.”

“He breathes fire?”

“Uh, Clara,” Willa said in a business tone as she smoothed the contract over her lap. “Why, perchance, has Mason brought you here?”

“Probably to try and convince me to stay. And because he’s a dick bent on ruining this day even further.”

Willa cleared her throat and pointed to a tall man with jet black hair and dark eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, but Clara couldn’t put her finger on why until Willa explained, “That’s my alpha, Creed, and he’s related to Damon. I’d bet my worms Mason brought you here to get any questions you have answered by that man.”

Clara narrowed her eyes at the driver, who had shimmied out of his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up to his forearms. He was currently tilting his head back and glugging a beer as though he hadn’t just tricked her into traveling all the way from Florida to be a rental womb for a freaking dragon. She was the queen of being dooped. “Son of a biscuit eater.”

“Mmm, I love biscuits,” Willa murmured, but when Clara looked over at her, Willa was staring at Matt with a hungry smile.

On that note, Clara unlocked the door and slipped out of the car, determined not to let Mason win whatever game he was playing.

A beer and some brisket, and she would be on her way back to Florida and well on her way to putting this mortifying situation behind her.





Chapter Four




Clara liked the Gray Backs. No, like was too soft a word. She freaking adored them. They were funny and gave each other so much shit, but underneath all the bravado, here was a crew of people who really cared about each other. A crew who had chosen each other to walk through this crazy life together. They reminded her of her own crew—a dangerous thought, so she popped a last bite of baked beans into her maw and tossed her plate in a trash bag attached to the side of the buffet table near the grill. The evening sun had disappeared, dousing them in darkness. Jason had turned on strands of outdoor lights that had been draped all over the trailer park, and the fire gave enough of a glow that she could see every face around it clearly. Already, they’d been shooting the shit for an hour. Clara didn’t have to talk much, but she was enjoying figuring out the dynamics.

Willa called herself the “almost alpha,” while Creed, the actual alpha, was the strong, patient type. His mate Gia was tall and curvy and was always rocking their baby girl, even though the infant was asleep already. She must be used to the rowdy crew to sleep through such noise. Matt hovered around Willa like a planet to a sun, and Jason and his park ranger mate didn’t go two minutes without touching each other. Clara was pretty sure they didn’t even notice they were doing it. They just reached out and brushed each other’s hands or shoulders just to reassure their animals their mate was fine. Aviana was a shy, dark-headed woman who twitched her head strangely when she was amused. A bird shifter of some sort, Clara would guess, because she definitely didn’t smell like a bear. And then there was Aviana’s mate, Beaston. Oh, she liked the strange man with a deep limp to his stride. He had wild, bright green eyes and looked terrifying in the firelight, but made it clear with every strange combination of words he uttered how deeply he felt everything and how infinitely he cared about his people. He was an enigma she wanted to figure out. A puzzle with missing pieces that had been forced together to create something even more interesting.

“Let’s prank call Damon,” Willa said, poking buttons on her cell phone.