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Writer's pictureMcKayla Schutt

“Stop right there, thief.”-Dragons Love Curves Series


Excerpt from Chase Me – Dragons Love Curves, Book One

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A lonely uneaten piece of wedding cake had been calling to her since she saw the fit groomsman walk away from it several hours ago. After that marathon wedding and reception, she needed a good sugar fix.

“Stop right there, thief.” The deep rumble of a male voice halted the fork midway to her mouth. Sounded like he was back for his dessert. Oh God. How embarrassing.

“I'm just doing a bit of quality control. Have to make sure the cake is up to Willingham Weddings standards.”

Please don't let him mention the fact that the wedding was over. Ciara turned to give the groomsman her best don't mind me I'm just the chubby, dateless, wedding planner stealing a piece of leftover cake smile. The man-slash-movie-star-slash-romance novel cover model standing three feet behind her had his arms crossed and a mad as hell glare on.

He wore a tight black t-shirt, dark jeans and a beautiful bright green crystal on a cord around his neck, so he wasn't the groomsman, or any other guest of the Ketcher-Fast wedding. She’d remember all that fantasy material.

He glanced down at the glowing charm at his throat and stilled. He faltered for a second and had to grab on to a chair to keep his balance.

Great. Another drunk guest and all the limos were gone. No way was she driving him home herself. Hmm. Well, maybe. He was awfully sexy and all those daydreams she’d had about Wes all night suddenly starred this magnetic stranger.

Until he growled at her. “I don't give a damn about the cake, unless that is where you've hidden my goods.”

“Your goods?” The only goods Ciara could comprehend at the moment were six, or maybe eight, of the most beautifully defined abdominal muscles in the whole Four Corners.

He crossed the scant yard between them in two strides, hauled her up out of the chair, and got so far into her personal space bubble she could smell his cinnamony breath. A zing whipped through her from every place he touched and strangely, she really wanted to stand up on her tippy toes and press her lips to his, taste that spice, lick up every essence of that erotic flavor.

She might have too if he'd held her for a second longer. But, after searching her eyes, he released her and began pacing, prowling around her, his eyes roving her from head to toe.

He might have the body of a god and she the body of a cupcake, but she would not be intimidated by wandering eyes. “First of all, you have to tell me what brand of toothpaste you use, and second, back up out of my business, buster.”

“Do not try to beguile me with your talk of hygiene products, your hair of gold, and your body made for sin. Where have you hidden my Wyr relic, witch?” He stopped circling and stared straight at her butt.

Body made for sin? Was he kidding? Body made of sins, maybe. Namely the sins of Swiss meringue buttercream, chocolate ganache, and too many I Love Lucy reruns. “Stop staring at my toukas. Whatever you're looking for ain't in there.”

She wiggled her backside to emphasize her point. That made her intruder damn irritated, probably that her rear wasn’t dropping any evidence of wrong doing based on the growl rumbling from his chest and his eyes glued to her ass.

“Stop enticing me with your curves, thief. You cannot distract me from what is mine.”

Ciara cleared her throat, gently at first, but when that failed to bring his eyes up to hers, she about gave herself a sore throat trying to get his attention.

“Are you ill? I won't have you dying before you tell me where the statue is hidden.”

What an asshat. A cute one, but a real douchecanoe none the less. “I think maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot here.” Ciara extended her hand to him. “I’m Ciara Mosely-Willingham.” Her hand hung there for a full count of ten. “And you are?”

He recoiled from her hand. “Wondering what kind of spell you're trying to work on me. Whatever it is, I assure you a Wyvern is immune.”

“I was trying to be nice, but I've had a very long and tiring day, so my patience is wearing thin. I don't have your thingy, and I don't know what a why Vern is. I thought for a minute I might help you try to find it, but I'm done now.” Ciara turned and began looking for her torturous heels. It would be much more fun to stomp off if there was some clack.

“As am I. If you won't return what you have taken from me I will be forced to bring you before the AllWyr council.”

“What the hell?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the ballroom toward a terrace. Good thing she'd already kicked off her shoes or she'd have been tripping all over her feet at the rate he was dragging her away.

“Hey, stop right this instant or I’ll bring out the self-defense moves.”

“Save your defense for the council. You’ll need it.”

This dude was seriously wack-a-doo. Where was the pepper spray when she needed it? Oh, that’s right, still in the bag from the store her mother had insisted they buy in bulk from.

“Let me go.”

“Return my relic.”

“I’m gonna make you a relic.”

“Save your spells, witch.”

“Your face is a witch.”

The scary man released her and grabbed at his face. When he didn’t find anything wrong with it, he narrowed his eyes and glared at her. “Good try, witch. You’ll pay for that.”

Ciara pivoted and bolted weaving her way between the tables. One second she was zigging and zagging, the next she was air born.

Great talons gripped her shoulders and a deep whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sounded above her.

She wriggled and screamed frantically trying to see what was happening above her. Her feet crashed into empty glasses and caught a centerpiece of giant lilies dead-on as she was dragged through the air above the tables.

Before she could even take another breath to scream again, they swooped out of the French doors, over the balcony and into the night sky.

Ciara lost her effing mind as the ground beneath her sunk down into tiny squares of land. She couldn’t look any longer, or she’d throw up. So instead she glanced up, not fathoming that she’d see, flying above her, the giant wings, flapping gracefully through the sky, of a dragon.

Want more? Check out the Dragons Love Curves series here!


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