How to Date a Dragon

but he was too tired to hold a phone, never mind try to listen and talk coherently. She’d understand.

How the hell had there been so many fires recently? Most were in the middle of the friggin’ night. Some had happened almost simultaneously in the north or west end, and across the river in Charlestown. All in my district. It can’t be a coincidence. But how did Zina know in which district he worked? He hadn’t told her.

She must have followed me. That in itself was unsettling. Or, crap… maybe she grabbed my cell phone while I was passed out on the sidewalk.

So far, none of the fires had the usual earmarks of arson. No accelerant. Nothing to make a spark. And since that fire a couple days ago, no one had seen a suspicious person hanging around and watching. It’s as if she’s deliberately trying to confuse me.

If Drake hadn’t been so tired, he would have spent more time going over the facts, trying to figure out if Zina had something to do with this anomaly and why. He suspected she did.

Maybe if I had found a way to let her down gently… He mentally shook himself. Guilt wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, it was better to know what she was capable of sooner rather than later.

He knew what she wanted. His seed. But if he got her pregnant, it would be too late. A pregnant female had to be protected by her mate. To desert the one extending the species would be unconscionable.

Drake didn’t know anything about the Caribbean dragons. Hell, he didn’t even know there were any before meeting Zina, but her Jamaican accent and Rasta name pretty much proved her origins.

How could Zina be pulling this off, if she happened to be the culprit? She either had help, or she was risking being seen in flight. Both were uncomfortable thoughts.

If he hadn’t been so tired, he would have obsessed longer. As it was, he had to get some sleep, so he made himself put thoughts of arson aside and think of something more pleasant. Perhaps if he thought of Bliss, he’d dream about her. A nice erotic dream where he’d feel her soft skin, taste her sweet mouth, and make love to her with the tenderness she deserved…

As those thoughts ran through his head, he realized he was the one who wanted to make love… not just have sex.

I love her.

The revelation should have made him uncomfortable. That meant he was giving up on his dream of having children, on his promise to his mother, on his species, but the thought didn’t trouble him. Instead, he drifted off to sleep with a smile.

* * *

Mother Nature paced with her hands clasped behind her back, her mood in stark contrast to the beautiful spring day outside her glass bubble. As if the other gods and goddesses could sense her frame of mind, they gave her a wide berth.

Finally, she halted, threw her hands in the air, and yelled, “What the fuck is going on out there?”

Apollo, probably realizing he was one of the few gods she could almost stomach, approached her cautiously.

“Gaia. Would you like me to summon Mr. Balog for you?”

She snorted. “Balog. What good would he be?”

“Perhaps he’s heard some rumblings among the paranormals in the Boston Uncommon bar? After all, he lives on the third floor of the building and keeps an eye on the patrons for you.”

“You mean my little spy might come in handy?”

Apollo shrugged. “It’s worth a try. After all, these fires are occurring in multiple locations, almost simultaneously. They seem beyond a human arsonist’s capability. We know they generally work alone.”

She blew out a deep breath. “I suppose so. I can’t stand the thought of my beloved city being ravaged by these fires—and if I find out it’s a paranormal doing it…” She shook her fist. “I’ll… I’ll— Gaaaah!” A cold wind rushed through the room, causing the gods to pull their togas tighter.

Apollo slapped his hands over his ears, expecting thunder. The other gods wisely decided to stay out of it and carried on with their poker game.

“Fine. Fetch Balog. Let’s see if the little weasel knows anything.”

“As you wish, Goddess.”

“Wait! Bring me that dragon who frequents the bar too—in his human form.”

“But I thought you took away his fire-breathing ability.”

“I did. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss it. Perhaps he’s working with someone else. Didn’t we find out he was related to that asshole who started the Chicago fire over a century ago?”

“Yes. But—”

“But nothing… Bring him to me!”

* * *

“So, Bliss…” Angie began as she placed the washed and rinsed dishes in the drainer.

Bliss looked away from the pouring rain out the window and wiped dry one of the mugs they’d had their coffee in that morning. “Yes?”

“We know each other well enough now to ask personal questions, don’t we?”

Bliss leaned away and eyed her roommate. “How personal are we talkin’?”

“Don’t worry. I don’t want to know what brand of tampons you use or anything…”

“Since you can just look in the bathroom vanity, that would be a waste of a personal question.”

Angie chuckled. “Yeah. And believe me, I don’t give a rat’s ass about that. What I really want to ask you has more to do with work.”

“Okay. Have at it.”

“You seem to be a really good cocktail waitress. Since you get to live and work with wonderful me, why are you slaving so hard to get your other business off the ground? You seem to spend every free moment on the computer.”

Bliss worried her lip and thought about how to word it for a moment. It wasn’t as if she hated waitressing. In some instances it could be a lot of fun. But working in a bar for the rest of her life wasn’t her idea of fulfillment. How could she say that to Angie without hurting her feelings?

“Well, it’s like this… I used to work at a job I hated. The pay was okay, but my boss was mean and the work was boring. Yet, I continued to work there simply to make the rent. And I should let you know that rent is absolutely essential. If I lived with my parents for one more flippin’ day, I’d have wound up in an asylum.”

“Ah. So you’re not making enough money at the bar?”

“Huh? No, that’s not it. The money is fine. I need a place to live and enough money to pay the bills while I get my portfolio back on track. The waitressing is great for that, and even though my diplomatic skills are tested from time to time, it’s not like being president of the United States.”

“But why is the card business so important?”

“Other than the fact that I love doing it? Well, there’s my sister.”

“Your sister? I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yeah, she’s in India. My big sister went and fell in love with a guy from West Bengal. Now she lives there.” Bliss stifled a sigh. How proud would she be at this moment, watching her little sister take her original idea and catapult it into the spotlight?

Bliss didn’t even know if India would see the show. It hadn’t aired anywhere yet, of course. The whole thing was taped first and released soon afterward—and did the orphanage where her sister worked even have a television? Her village barely had electricity.

“So what does she have to do with the card business?”

“Oh! Yeah, I didn’t quite connect the dots for you, did I? She started the business. When she decided to move to India permanently, she offered me the gig. It was her baby and I don’t want to let her down.”

Bliss finished drying and putting away the last of the clean dishes and folded the towel. “My sister may have started it, but it’s turned out to be more than that for me. I found it’s a great way to express my snarky sense of humor and stay independent. I love being my own boss. It was such a happy day when I could give my nasty old boss a big raspberry.” She grinned, thinking about the day she quit her boring, frustrating, sometimes revolting tax