How to Date a Dragon

“Is that so bad? You could do it as a hobby if you were married.”

Bliss wanted to knock her head against the table—repeatedly.

* * *

Drake waited outside the Shamrock to meet the female dragon. He leaned casually against the large window made up of several smaller panes, feeling anything but casual. Cool, calm, collected—nope. All of those positive traits had deserted him.

Mating with a human would never produce the children he wanted to have someday. Not just wanted… he needed to have them to save the species. He would do his best to find a female dragon, settle down, and propagate like mad. Only another dragon could do that.

He checked his watch again. Four o’clock on the dot. He saw no one who looked as confident as a lady dragon with dark hair and a silver streak down the middle walking toward him.

A motorcycle roared up to the curb, and the black-leather-clad rider pulled off his helmet. Correction. Her helmet. Long, matted, dark dreadlocks fell over her pierced eyebrow, past her pierced nose and pierced lip to her shoulders, and horrors, a shock of silver hair flowed from her widow’s peak.

“Zina?”

“Dat me. And ya be Drake, naa?”

“Uh-huh.” Too late to deny it. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that the lady dragon might be a dragon lady. A tough biker chick with a crazy accent.

Bliss popped into his mind again. She seemed like a direct contrast to this, and he didn’t even know Zina yet. He doubted this chick could measure up to beautiful, funny, intelligent Bliss and, well… he really needed to give Zina a chance before he made rash judgments. It was important because she was a dragon. Maybe the only single female dragon he’d ever find.

She dismounted her bike and chained it to a nearby tree. Then she planted her hands on her hips and said, “So, are ya gonna to buy me bagjuice, or wha?”

Bagjuice? Drake would have preferred the “or what” but she had come from somewhere far away to meet him, so buying her a drink was the least he could do. She had a heavy island accent, but he could make out what she was trying to say… barely. With the Rasta hair and accent, he’d guess she was from Jamaica. There’s something I can open a conversation with.

“We goin?”

He made himself smile. “Of course. After you.” He gestured toward the Shamrock’s front door.

“Me bet you wanna see me backside.”

“Er… or I could just want to be a gentleman.”

She shrugged. “Mehbe, but me rather ya seein me backside. Is strong as rock.” She smacked her ass and swished it into the bar.

What could he say to that? Nothing. Say nothing, Drake.

She picked a table and sat on the side closest to the door. Damn. If he wanted to flee, he’d have to pass her and she’d probably grab his arm. Dragons, even in human form, had excellent reflexes.

She eyed him as he sat down. “So, mon. Do ya do da workout?”

“What? Do I work out? I’m having a hard time understanding you sometimes.”

Her lips thinned. “Ya wan me do speaky-spoky?”

He had no idea what she’d just said, so he thought he’d better skip it and carry on. “In answer to your question, sometimes I work out. There’s exercise equipment at the station. If I’m bored or haven’t had any runs for a while, I’ll lift weights or…” Why did her eyes just narrow?

“Station? Ya a cop?”

“No. Firefighter.”

“Whew. Aright.” She seemed to relax.

“I take it you don’t like cops?”

“Nah, me no like dem.”

She didn’t offer any further explanation, but he could guess she’d been on the wrong side of the law at some point. He honestly didn’t care enough to pursue the subject, so he let it drop. Suddenly, he wondered why mating with another dragon mattered so much. The thought of doing what he had to do with this woman was completely distasteful.

He’d be polite, have a drink with her, then be on his way and never look for a female dragon again. He wanted Bliss more than ever.

As their conversation wore on, he found himself unable to interpret what she was saying on several occasions. Apparently she was renting a condo just outside the city in a nice neighborhood. She wanted to find a “bupps,” whatever that was, and she valued her “kulcha.”

“So, why did you ask if I worked out? Do you belong to a gym?”

“Me buildin gots one. Ya go dere sometime?”

Uh-oh. Change the subject, quick. “You have beautiful eyes.” Why the hell did I say that? Now she’ll think I like her.

She leaned back and looked smug. “Ya wanna cock it up? Me be ya baby mudda?”

Oh, crap. He figured this might be a good time to use the language barrier to his advantage. “I’m really sorry, Zina. I’m afraid I’m just having too hard a time understanding you. It was nice to meet you, though. I’ll pay for our drinks on the way out.” He rose and tried to walk past her.

Her hand shot out, clamped around his wrist, and squeezed. “I see. Perhaps you’d prefer I speak the King’s English with a Brrritish accent?”

“What the…” Why the hell did she use the island accent if she— Oh, no. Does she have multiple personalities? Drake twisted his wrist, trying to extricate himself from her grasp, but she held on tight.

“I can talk like you do too, Mr. All-American.”

He gave up the struggle, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Okaaay. If you were perfectly capable of eliminating your accent, why did you make it so hard for me to understand you?”

“It was fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, fun. You should have seen your face.” She finally let go of him.

Drake rubbed his wrist. “Hmmm… Well, I really do have to leave.”

Before he took a step, she enunciated, “Sit. Back. Down.”

He folded his arms and stood his ground. “I can’t. There’s somewhere I need to be.”

“Where?”

“My annual firefighter’s physical,” he said, without missing a beat. It wasn’t until next month, but she didn’t have to know that.

She stared at him a moment, then wrote a phone number on her cocktail napkin and shoved it at him. “Here. Call me when you can take a joke.”

“What if that never happens?”

“Call me anyway.”

Drake folded the napkin and stuffed it in his pocket.

She leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smile, as if she knew her will would be obeyed. And just to rub in the point of her being a female dragon, her eyes shimmered gold.

I’m sorry, Mother. I just can’t do it. Even you wouldn’t want me to marry this bat-shit crazy dragon to continue the species.

* * *

“I’m going to check greeting card companies. Maybe I can find the brunette there.”

He had told the guys about the Internet producing a disastrous blind date. They encouraged him to keep trying, but what he really needed to do was delete his profile completely. He ambled toward the community room that housed the computers.

“I hope you find her,” Ralph said. “We’ve run out of friends to introduce you to. And none of us would let you near our sisters.”