Mica Read online

  Romantic Geek Publishing

  MICA (DRAGON HORDE #1) (MATING FEVER COLLECTION)

  Copyright © 2016 Ronin Winters

  E-book ISBN 978-1-938593-35-2

  Publication Date: March 2016

  Editor: Sara Lunsford

  Copy Editor: Eilis Flynn

  Cover Design: Croco Designs

  To know when the next Ronin Winters book is released, please sign-up for her MAILING LIST.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Books by Ronin Winters

  What is Mating Season/ Mating Fever?

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Mating Season/Mating Fever – Books Released so Far

  About the Author

  New Releases List Sign-Up

  Find Ronin on Social Media

  Facebook

  Newsletter

  BOOKS BY RONIN WINTERS

  The Mating Season

  The mating moon is rising...

  BLUE COLLAR WOLVES

  Iron

  Brick House

  Steel

  Bella’s Tease

  Razor

  Tank

  Cage

  Mating Fever

  The mating moon has risen...

  DRAGON HORDE

  Mica

  The Pleasure Chronicles

  Sexy Sci-Fi about Warrior women and the Alpha Males who love them

  Pleasure Satellite –To the Strongest goes Everything…

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  RONIN WINTERS NEWSLETTER LIST!

  Want to join fellow Shifter Romance Fans?

  FACEBOOK FAN GROUP FOR THE MATING SEASON/

  MATING FEVER!

  What is The Mating Season/Mating Fever Collection?

  The Mating Season/Mating Fever is a group project which began when six friends (who also happen to be Paranormal Romance Writers) got together and started talking about how it was interesting that authors could take the same premise but make such different stories around it. After coming up with a werewolf world (The Mating Season) they decided to each write their own particular take and release those stories simultaneously.

  It was originally only supposed to be three stories each, but as what usually happens, more characters demanded their stories be told and the story universe grew, not only in terms of the werewolves, but to expand beyond what we originally imagined.

  We began plotting different mythologies and different shifters (again, all while talking about how the spin changed with each writer.) And because we had so much fun doing it the first time with The Mating Season, we had to do it again – except, to differentiate this new project, we’re calling it Mating Fever.

  We are proud and excited to have worked on this project together. I hope you enjoy my Dragons, and please don’t forget to check out how my friends deal with dragons and bears (and all the other secret goodness – oh my!) as well.

  - Ronin

  Chapter One

  “Don’t look now, but your lumberjack just came in.”

  Using every ounce of restraint she’d ever built up, Sophie kept her eyes steadily in front of her, not looking up from the bakery case she was restocking and most certainly not breathing harder because of the man whose footsteps she could now hear coming her way.

  She had more control than that. It took more than muscles…and tattoos…and those thick veins in his arms that some men had, the ones that ran from bicep to forearm and managed to look somehow mix scary motherfucker with hotter-than-hell-please-bend-me-over-the-nearest-chair-and-have-your-way-with-me…

  “Sophie, you’re getting red, baby. Don’t be having a heart attack.”

  Before Sophie could make the comeback about which worried Jo more – Sophie having a heart attack or the fact Jo would actually have to take on responsibility if that event took place – large booted feet stopped in front of the bakery case.

  Leather boots connected to medium-blue denim, which covered muscled thighs Sophie wouldn’t be able to wrap her hands around, which led up to…

  Sophie popped up like a jack-in-the-box, a bright smile that might be a shade too bright plastered on her face. “You’re later than usual,” she said, and oh no, was that the right thing to say? He was later, but with her saying it, did it make him think she was stalking his arrival times? Or did he take it as a shop owner knowing her customers?

  Before her thoughts could delve too much further down that path, he gave that small smile, his dark blue eyes direct on her.

  Sophie loved that smile, no two ways about it. It as easy to make up stories around it, a story which said that he didn’t smile much – not because he was sad, but because he was so reserved, taking everything in and constantly on alert – but somehow she was able to pull this small expression of happiness from him.

  “The usual please,” he said, in that voice which had Jo placing a bet the man had gargled with gravel at some point in his life, and Sophie’s heart did its customary jump at the reminder that this man actually had a usual.

  It was nothing fancy. A strong, dark macchiato and a turkey sandwich was what he’d ordered that first day he came in over a month ago, and he’d never deviated once from it, though he was almost a daily customer. But since she couldn’t conceive of always eating the same thing, a couple weeks ago she began to slip various pastries into his carryout bag. She never charged him, but since the man always tipped with a ten, she could afford to be generous with him as well.

  And that was the reason she gave him the extra goodies, no matter what Jo said. So there.

  Besides, it was an adventure, trying to figure out which items he liked. He never mentioned the extra goodie to say, but Sophie noticed that the day after he got the treats that fell on the more savory side, he tended to peruse the case for a few moments, and he looked down at the carryout bag as though he was eager to open it up and see what was inside.

  Strange how these days savory baked goods were always available.

  As she went about the task of getting his order together, Jo went to clear a few tables, leaving her alone behind the counter. Her mystery man cleared his throat before saying, “It’s busier in here than usual.”

  Huh, small talk. He’d never done that before. Keeping her voice even so that no hint of her internal squealing would be evident, Sophie replied, “The afternoon knitting group. You usually arrive before they get here.”

  He glanced over as though to verify her words, and indeed, twelve pairs of eyes were locked on him, the older ladies of the group not-so-subtlety checking him out as the needles flew in their hands, appraising looks and yards of yarn left in their wake.

  He shifted so his attention was now back on her as she worked on his drink. “They’re kind of scary.”

  She leaned forward, speaking in a low tone that was totally so the ladies wouldn’t overhear and not because she was trying to flirt. “You should see them before they have their tea.”

  He leaned closer as well, his gaze falling on her mouth for a half second before rising up to meet her own. “They’re that desperate for chamomile?”

  “More like for the shot of whiskey they add.”

  Then the unexpected. He threw his head back and laughed in a way she’d never imagined him capable of. He
was always so stoic, and this…this was so out of character, and for a moment all internal thought was drowned out by that deep laugh and the underside of his exposed throat, that line which separated his beard from bare skin visible, and then all that existed was the desire to lick.

  Before she could act on that impulse, Mrs. Reynolds came up. Mrs. Reynolds was a curmudgeon, set in her ways…okay, she was a bitch. But with the tea shop still so new, Sophie could not afford any negative reviews, and Mrs. Reynolds was the type to be vicious in destroying anything that displeased her, so the nasty comments were shrugged off and the service was still always exemplary. “Sophie, I need water and one of them fiber muffins of yours.”

  Strange, Mrs. Reynolds was not one to do any work herself, usually preferring to have Sophie and Jo running back and forth for her innumerable demands. Then the mystery solved itself as Mrs. Reynolds asked, “How’s that diet of yours coming?”

  Her face heated, and right now, looking at her lumberjack was impossible. She couldn’t bear to see the man’s blue eyes lit with sympathy, or second-hand embarrassment on her behalf.

  The old woman continued on. “Too many conveniences, that’s the problem. It’s too easy for you today with your fast food and your computers. It was more work when I was younger. Of course, we also wouldn’t let ourselves get big. We knew boundaries. We knew when it was time to stop. No control anymore…”

  “Yes, Mrs. Reynolds,” Sophie cut in, handing her the items. “Anything else I can get you?”

  It looked as if the old woman was struggling to come up with something, some excuse so she could continue to stay, but she turned and left without another word.

  His arrival was the highlight of her day, but right now, Sophie wanted him gone, because there was no way she could even begin to try to forget that exchange while he was here. She went back to getting his order ready with no more interaction, handing it to him and ignoring his attempt to get her to look at him as he paid. “Have a good day,” and hopefully the smile she had on her face as she said it didn’t look as forced as it felt.

  The chime signaled he’d left, and she went back to cleaning. It was her own fault. She was the one who had been getting ridiculous, fawning over a good customer like a celebrity crush. She needed to leave the poor man alone and stop acting like an idiot. He’d been kind to humor her, but it was unfair that she’d been acting up around him.

  Jo came back after the man went out of the store, the knitting group no longer looking over. “He laughed? I about fell over.”

  Not now. She couldn’t handle any talk right now. “Jo, leave the guy alone.”

  “What? What happened?” Jo’s attention was immediately on her, and she halted Sophie when she made a move to go into the back. “Did he say something to you?”

  “No. Not like that. It’s just…wrong. It’s not fair to be talking about him like we’ve been.”

  Jo looked confused, but what would Jo know about it? Jo was tomboy gorgeous, and had her pick of men or women. Jo could never understand how stupid it was for someone like Sophie to imagine herself with someone like him.

  There came a point when the fantasy went from a cute way to spend a couple hours daydreaming to become a reminder how pathetic such thoughts were.

  She was a grown-up, an entrepreneur with commitments and responsibilities.

  She was also a realist. She’d lived in this world for twenty-eight years, and she knew how it worked. Girls like her didn’t end up with guys like him.

  It was time to stop.

  Chapter Two

  “You could at least bring some coffee for the rest of us.”

  “You’ve me confused with someone nice.” Mica sat in the middle of the large leather couch, his big body obliterating over a third of the available space of the spacious sofa. The tempting smell of roasted turkey wafted from the bag, along with hints of whatever surprise Sophie had for him today. Something spicy, something mouthwatering, perfectly made and would melt on his tongue when he finally tasted it.

  The same as Sophie would be, when he finally got past those blushing looks and had her spread out before him, that plump little body his to do with what he wanted.

  And fuck, he wanted everything.

  Mica’s head hit the back of the couch and Granite, the asshole, snickered above him. “Still having mate problems?”

  “It was a mistake to get drunk with you.”

  Granite gave a superior smirk as he pointed to his face. “You’re the one that let this Hollywood Idol visage fool you into thinking I was a lightweight. That loss was on you, my friend. Besides,” Granite continued as he threw himself on the couch and made a thwarted grab for the food bag, “It was a sympathetic question. All of us could inspire storylines on a telenovela with our mate issues.”

  It was said so glibly that if he hadn’t heard Granite’s story during the drink-a-thon, Mica would have pushed the words away. Instead, they were a reminder that Mica’s problems came down to him being a coward, the knot in his stomach whenever he imagined Sophie rejecting him after hearing the truth of what he was making him hesitant to talk to her.

  Granite’s mate was raped and turned into a werewolf against her will and now wanted nothing to do with the supernatural world, while Obsidian had his mate stolen from him when he was six and had spent over twenty years searching with still with no luck finding her.

  Yeah, Mica needed to shut the fuck up and grow a spine and some balls.

  He could’ve started with pulling his mate over the counter and showing her how damn turned-on she made him when that old bitch started in on her. Sophie closed in on herself as soon as the woman began speaking, and he’d been closer to punching an old woman then he would’ve ever believed possible. Sophie wouldn’t look at him after that, and he’d been left helpless before a few words and his own cowardice in not acting, not showing her that to him, there was no one fucking sexier on the planet, no one who could get his dick harder or could get him gunning faster.

  His mate was sweet and seductive, was smart and determined, and by being a dumbass he’d already wasted a whole month he could’ve had her riding his dick and moaning his name in that breathy voice of hers.

  How could she not know how she affected him? He was an idiot around her, tongue-tied and stupid. It felt like all he did was make moon eyes at her, and that assistant of hers smirked at him whenever he entered the shop. She knew what was going on, but Sophie? Somehow not a clue.

  Not a clue how those peasant blouses and long skirts highlighted those gorgeous breasts and generous curves which left him damn near slobbering. That long, dark, curly hair…fuck, it was made for him to sink his fingers into, to use it to pull her head back as he thrust into her from behind, making her ass jiggle as those thighs cushioned him while he was buried inside her. Or he’d use it to guide her head as she blew him, sinking his cock down her throat and fucking her face, those gorgeous green eyes of hers locked on his while he came and she swallowed down every drop.

  “Mica, you look like you need a minute.” Obsidian’s voice broke through the tumbling fantasies, and Mica groaned, bashing his head against the back of the couch a few times. “He still having mate issues?”

  “Yep,” Granite answered, and the bastard sounded far too cheerful. “Little Miss Sophie is still pure and untouched, and I think it’s beginning to get to him.”

  “If you need advice on what to do, I can give some pointers, purely to make sure your mate enjoys herself.”

  Mica gave Obsidian the finger – never mind that the man was Clan Leader, he was still an asshole – and said, “Sophie will have no complaints.”

  “Well, we won’t know that until you actually claim her, will we?”

  He’d been lifelong friends with Granite and Obsidian, and he knew they were happy that he’d found his mate, but there was no denying the two got off on giving him a hard time over it, shit-eating grins large on their faces and eyes not even restraining their mirth.

  Obsidian moved to sit
in the chair adjacent to the couch and once seated, his face became serious, his whole demeanor switching over from childhood friend to Clan Leader of the Dragon Horde, who was now speaking to the Wing and Right Claw of the Clan. “Bas sent me his report.”

  Those words were probably the only thing that could make thoughts of Sophie disappear from Mica’s mind. “What’d he find?”

  “He’s positive Jacobson is working with either some rogue dragons or possibly even a Clan, though he has no leads on who yet. Beyond that, Jacobson shows signs of other sources of power and magic. But Jacobson is a smart and paranoid bastard, and right now details are scarce. Bas says to keep our eyes open and ears to the ground.”

  Granite went from his usual jovial expression to pure lethal weapon with every word. Jacobson was a rogue wolf who they originally thought was nothing more than mere nuisance until recently, when they discovered he was in the center of a lot of black market shit, including drugs, black magic, weapons, and sexual slavery, including turning women into werewolves and selling them to various factions, both wolves who were deep in hiding and had little chance of finding their own mates, as well as humans and other races who wanted their own werewolf plaything.

  Granite’s mate happened to be one of those women, and it was only a lucky strike against Jacobson that freed her.

  In short, Jacobson and everyone around him needed to die. Steel, the alpha of the nearby wolf pack, was on board with that plan. It was just a matter of figuring out how to make it happen.

  Speaking of the wolves… “Does Steel have anything to add?”

  Obsidian shook his head in partial answer. “He’s looking, and he’ll contact us the moment he knows anything.”