Last Immortal Dragon: Dragon Shifter Romance by T. S. Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

inside.
    Numbly, Clara followed the now quiet driver through the front doors. She followed him down the cold marble hallway that seemed to stretch for miles. She followed him past statues and fountains, past winding staircases and what looked like an old-fashioned ballroom. Sconces and chandeliers and wooden doors stretched to three times her height, and it all combined to give her a single feeling—frigid emptiness. Damon had decorated this place without any warmth at all.
    Perhaps it was he who was broken.
    Mason adjusted the strap of her duffle bag on his shoulder and shoved open a heavy wooden door that had been painted a cream color. The paint was worn and chipped, and it looked as if it had been taken from some ancient castle. Inside, the guestroom was bigger than her entire apartment in Florida. There was white wainscoting along the walls, and intricate crown molding around every window and along the entirety of the ceiling. Above the wainscoting was wallpaper in a mauve floral print that should’ve felt outdated and dull, but paired with the four poster bed with the gauze curtains, the room looked quite elegant and comfortable. There was a sitting area, and a set of French doors were open to a sprawling balcony that overlooked the waterfall she’d seen earlier.
    It was a room fit for a queen, and Clara was definitely trailing trailer-park dirt all over the pristine dark wood floors.
    Surprised by the contrast to the sterile white corridors, she murmured, “This room is so different than the rest of the house.”
    Mason nodded and smiled, then pointed to a room off the main and said, “The bathroom is through there. Sleep as late as you like.” He hovered at the doorway where he’d set her bag down as if he wanted to say more, but turned abruptly instead and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the enormous room.
    The shower was roughly the size of her bedroom at home, and when she finally figured out how to turn on the hot tap, water fell like rain from the ceiling. She washed the travel dirt from her skin and towel dried her hair, then readied for bed in a daze. Her mind circled around Damon, from the contract to him breaking the glass in his office, from his agonized roar to the Grayland Mobile Park, and then back—always back—to that stunning dimple-smile he’d given over and over again tonight. He was the most interesting, yet confounding man she’d ever met. And even more terrifying than her interest in a cold man was the bone-deep desire that unfurled in her belly anytime he was around. She was giving him the power to hurt her, and for what? She hadn’t known him long enough to care about what made him tick.
    Clara closed the terrace doors, turned off the lights, and buried herself under the plush covers of the bed. With a frown, she looked over at the wall beside her. What if he was there on the other side? She didn’t know for sure, but she could almost sense him, almost picture him, restless in his own bed, as she was in hers.
    She scooted to the side of the bed she imagined was closest to him and relaxed. It was there that she drifted off, as close to the cold dragon as she would ever sleep.
     
    Pain, sharp and bright.
    Clara squeezed her eyes closed, then opened them again as the ache in her head subsided. Where was she? She looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. Her crossed legs were covered with green silk that shone in the candlelight. She wore a dress, but none like she’d ever seen. It was full in the skirts and tight from her waist up. Her sleeves were nothing more than lace caps right at the tips of her collar bones. Her headache was probably because her hair was pulled too tight in the pins that were jabbing into her head. Baffled, she looked around. The room was dark, and the walls made of stone. It was dark, like a cave, and old-fashioned lanterns hung from the walls on rusty pegs. Above was a large, circular chandelier, but instead of lightbulbs, it