Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
The tall, very handsome man onstage had a killer body and an impressive six-pack, but his moves were stiff and robotic. He kept rolling his eyes, like the entire thing was beneath him.
“Dash! Dash! Dash!” the women began chanting.
Tough crowd, she thought.
Jac found one of the servers behind the counter, making a mess of everything—margarita slush everywhere, limes on the floor, grenadine syrup spread across the counter.
“Here, you start cleaning, and I’ll make drinks,” Jac told her and got to work. The server burst into tears but began cleaning. It seemed everyone was working against their will tonight.
Jac reached behind her for a bottle of Jack to prep a drink. Suddenly, the crowd went wild, screaming with delight. She turned around, and there on the stage, next to the bored hot guy, was Dash.
“I don’t believe it.” At his feet was Heebie, his little leg looking perfectly fine.
What the hell? It didn’t make any sense. She’d seen the broken leg with her own eyes.
“Jac? I need my drinks,” said Trish, the same server from the other night.
“Oh. Sorry.” Jac went to work, keeping one eye on the show.
Dash turned his back to the audience, removed his jeans, and did a butt flex, popping his cheeks to the beat of the music.
Like before, the women lost their minds and began acting like possessed, sexual she-demons worshipping at the shrine of Master Dash.
Not right. It wasn’t natural for grown women to behave so crazily.
She glanced down at the bottle of tequila in her hand, a thought crossing her mind. Was it possible? Was Mrs. Peepers slipping something in the booze?
Dash ended his routine with a snap of his fingers, and Heebie ran up his back with no signs of injury.
Weird. Weird. Weird. I am going to get to the bottom of this.
The moment the theater began emptying out, Jac cleaned up the bar. She noticed the guy, who’d been booed off the stage, yelling at someone in the corner.
“You were laughing at me!” he roared. “I did this to help you, and you were rolling on the damned floor.”
Jac did a double take. There was no one there. It’s got to be drugs in the alcohol. It wouldn’t be difficult to do, and it explained everyone’s bizarre behavior, including this guy’s. He probably had a drink when he got here.
Anger bubbled in Jac’s chest. Drugging customers for profit was wrong on so many levels.
Jac headed backstage to find Peepers or Mink and demand they end this sick, twisted scam. Jac was just past the door when she heard Dash’s deep, recognizable voice yelling in the staging area.
“Cimil, for the last time, it’s not going to happen. Got it?” he said.
“You listen good, my little dragon slave. The dragonettes will be here tomorrow night, and they’re expecting action.”
Wait. What? Jac continued eavesdropping. The female voice—whom he called “Cimil”—sounded like Mrs. Peepers. Why is she calling Dash her dragon slave?
Jac’s mind immediately jumped to the monster she’d seen in the sky. Had it been real? No, it can’t be. Dragons. Weren’t. Real.
“Well, I don’t care what they’re expecting; they’re not getting it,” Dash said firmly to Cimil.
“Their eggs must be fertilized,” Cimil countered, “or else there will be no more dragons. Is that what you really want?”
“What do I care?” Dash said. “I have my life, and I’m happy.”
“Your kind are all alike—only thinking of yourselves!” Cimil barked.
“And you fucking gods only think about power and subjecting us all to your bullshit.”
Gods? Jac started feeling dizzy.
“Dashiel, the scrotum butter better be flowing tomorrow, or there will be hell to pay. Do you hear me?” Cimil said. “I want to see these walls dripping with sexy, hot bechamel! It’s the only way to make sure every egg is fertilized.”
Jac couldn’t believe what she was hearing. (A) Disgusting. (B) Dragons were real, and Dash was one of them?
No. No. Impossible. Maybe the two were rehearsing for a play or making adult fantasy films on the side, and these were their lines.
On the other hand, she had seen something in the sky tonight, and that something had spit fire.
“What do you want me to say?” Dash asked. “You need to deliver on your end of the bargain before tomorrow night, or no dragons. Either way, not my fucking problem.”
Jac heard a door slam—maybe Dash going to his dressing room.
Suddenly, Jac felt something hot and steamy on the back of her neck. She slowly turned her head to find two glowing red eyes beaming down at her. Jac’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t make a sound. Then something wet and warm swiped across her cheek, and for a split second, Jac could’ve sworn she saw a creature that looked like…like…
A unicorn?
Jac found her voice. “Help! Help!” She fell back on her butt. She needed to get the hell out of this place.