What a Dragon Wants

By Ava Cuvay

Viking dragon-shifter Ty Drekison relocates to LA from his Minnesota clan in preparation to battle the awakening of Níðhöggr, Destroyer of the World. But he can’t stay away from the delicious cuisine of his new favorite Chinese restaurant, or its beautiful owner, who whets his hunger. He can’t seem to say the right things around her, and he certainly can’t reveal his shifter abilities. But with a grim prophesy threatening the fate of the world, can he be blamed for seeking moments of sweet release with her... in bed?

Wu Lin’s newest loyal customer is a sexy Nordic god of a man who makes her inner dragon stand up and beg for bread and butter. She’d give up her family’s red bean bun recipe to get a peek at his mighty hammer, but she’s the last dragon-shifter of her clan, and her time and energy must be focused on the upcoming battle against the demon monster Móshen who is prophesized to demolish the Earth. Even so, Ty complements her in every way. Could it be she has found the yang to her yin... in bed?

This 33K novella is one in the Star of the North Dragon series, which can be read in any order or as standalone novellas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ava Cuvay
• Release date: Jan 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781733482776

Ava Cuvay

Ava Cuvay writes out of this world romance featuring sassy heroines, gutsy heroes, passion, adventure, and an alcoholic beverage or two... Often set in a galaxy far, far away. She resides in central Indiana with her own scruffy-looking nerfherder, kiddos who are growing up without her permission, and two kitties that make her laugh. She believes life is too short to bother with negative people, everything is better with Champagne, and Han Solo shot first. When not writing, Ava is thinking about writing. Or wine. And she’s always thinking about bacon.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

What you seek, you shall find.

In bed. Tyrell Drekison chuckled at the immature, yet requisite, ending to his fortune-cookie horoscope. Fingering the tiny slip of paper with the prophetic words, he tracked the restaurant’s sexy owner, Wu Lin, as she carried a tray of duck sauce and spicy mustard jars to the kitchen in preparation for closing. If only fortunes found in crispy, folded cookies actually came true. He would love to spend several hours playing Seek-and-Find with that raven-haired beauty.

His inner dragon stretched and rumbled in agreement, an unusual reaction from his other, pickier half. His dragon nature rarely bothered to even roll his eyes at Ty’s sexual partners, but Lin fascinated them both. A lithe, athletic figure. Full, red lips. Eyes as deep and unfathomable as the midnight Pacific Ocean, glittering with intelligence and secrets.

And something more. Something about her called to him, drew him like a magnet to her Jade Dragon restaurant. More than her dim sum, more than her jaw-dropping beauty—and honestly, more than the boner in his pants, which stood as tall as the mythical tree Yggdrasil itself when he was around her. There was something that beckoned him here to Chinatown as often as he could make it since he’d moved to LA several months ago.

The real mystery was why he couldn’t seem to strike up a conversation with her. He chewed a bite and took mental stock of his usual come-ons, none of which seemed applicable, or even advisable, to use. As the youngest son of the dragon shifters’ Minnesota clan chief, he had the powerful physique, the Viking good looks, and all the brash sexuality that made women throw themselves at him. He’d never before had a problem interacting with the opposite sex, yet this one little slip of a woman had his tongue wrapped around itself. A tongue he’d much prefer wrapped around her intimate bits.

Lightning flashed outside, followed by thunder as loud as if Thor himself had called it. Rain lashed at the window. A thunderstorm in LA was so rare as to be nonexistent. And damn his luck, he’d ridden his Harley. Now he’d have to wait and hope Lin didn’t kick him out before the rain stopped. Which meant he might be here a couple hours.

On second thought, maybe luck was on his side.

Angry voices rose in the kitchen. His muscles tensed, prepared to fight, to jump into the fray, but he paused. Lin didn’t sound like she needed backup. In fact, she was the one yelling, loud and fast in Chinese. The man sounded belligerent, but she soon shut him down in a voice that brooked no argument. Pans clattered, then silence. She burst through the swinging kitchen door and marched like a war general toward the reception stand.

Give ’em hell, Dragon Lady. Ty spoke around a mouthful of noodles.

Lin whirled on him, outrage flashing in her eyes. What did you say?

Shit, he’d pissed her off. He choked on his bite. Uh, I said give ’em hell? And I called you Dragon Lady? Was that a bad thing to say?

She crossed her arms and glared at him, one eyebrow raised in the same manner his mother did when he fucked up and needed to apologize. Dammit, not only couldn’t he talk to Lin, the words he did manage to say were the wrong ones. What good was being a badass dragon sent to protect the West Coast from the prophesized awakening of Níðhöggr, Destroyer of the World, if he couldn’t make friends? I’m sorry if I spoke out of ignorance. My intent was to show my support.

After a moment, Lin dropped her arms to her side on a sigh, then looked back toward the kitchen before meeting his gaze. "Dragon Lady is used as a malignant stereotype for strong women of Asian descent. Her voice was still sharp with irritation, but lacked the heat from before, like distant lightning. Still deadly, but not a threat to him. People think because I am slant-eyed, I am meek and subservient. The assumption being that, as a Chinese woman, I have been steeped in the behavioral expectations of obedience and docility. And if I act in a manner opposite of this—she spoke in a loud voice directed at the kitchen—especially if that involves raising my voice to a man or being demanding or refusing to accept stupidity—she turned back to Ty and her volume returned to normal—then I am less a woman and more a screeching harpy."

Ty threw his head back, laughing at the ridiculous notion. Lin frowned at him. He coughed to stop his laughter and avert the daggers shooting from her eyes. I’m sorry for laughing. It’s just, I’m of Viking descent, and our women were expected to be strong and outspoken. A Viking woman could own land and divorce her husband and be head of her household. Some even rode into battle with the men.

Lin canted her head at his explanation. What, like to hold her man’s shield or sword? Fetch him water and tend his wounds?

No. To fight as an equal. He leaned forward on his elbows and spoke with all seriousness. An obedient woman would be boring as hell. Give me a spirited shield maiden fighting at my side any day over a timid woman with no thought of her own but to take my orders.

One eyebrow shot up in disbelief. Hate to point it out, but I do take your orders. She glanced meaningfully at his plate.

And I’d be an idiot to assume you wouldn’t dump that order in my lap if I pissed you off.

Her gaze darted around his face, as if weighing the truth of his words with his demeanor. Or was she checking him out? Mighty Allfather, please. The corners of her mouth tipped up and her eyelids fluttered as she glanced at the floor. If they hadn’t just had this conversation, he might have considered the expression meek. But that didn’t fit Lin. Instead, she looked more enchanted. Maybe even—dare he hope?—interested in him.

His cock surged at the possibility, as if it wasn’t already painfully engorged. He shifted on the bench seat to readjust the pressure.

Lin fiddled with the gold piping on her traditional body-hugging silk dress with the high Mandarin collar and ornate accents. Every time he dined here, she wore a different one, each ranging in color and length. She was exquisite in all of them, as if they had been specifically designed to showcase her slender curves. This one was his favorite so far. Bold red like her lips, with serpentine gold dragons embroidered down the front to where the hem hit her at mid-thigh. His dragon liked it, too. Especially the embroidery, the fickle beast.

This is an upstanding culinary establishment. I would never intentionally dump your food in your lap, even if you pissed me off. She demurred, but he caught her mischievous smile and subtle wink. I’d spit in it.

She turned to walk away and Ty clawed at something to say to keep her there, talking with him. Speaking of traditions and stereotypes, where does your work uniform fall?

If she stopped wearing those sexy dresses because he’d said something, he would cut his damn tongue out.

She turned back, looking down at herself, then shrugged. "A little bit of both, I suppose. The original cheongsam, or qipao, were floor-length and much looser. All that fabric would get hot and the long sleeves would get in the food. Unfortunately, these more modern qipao often give men the idea I’m here to fulfill their sexual needs, which is annoying. But honestly, they make getting dressed for work a breeze, and they’re way more comfortable than pants."

You wear them well. Did he sound skeevy by saying that? But the only thing making men think you’re here for their sexual gratification is their own chauvinism.

Yes, he’d fantasize about Lin and had drooled over how sexy she was in her qipao. But he didn’t assume she was there to fuck him. If she wanted to, that was another story and he certainly wouldn’t decline the invitation. But it was her choice, not her obligation. And if his recent awkward conversation attempts continued, she wasn’t likely to choose to.

Lin huffed a laugh and leaned against the tall back of the booth seat across from him. "True, but that doesn’t stop them from fetishizing my traditional outfit choices and assuming I’m trolling for the beaucoup D, so to speak."

Ty paused with a bite halfway to his mouth, his gut pitching. She spoke as if her experience was commonplace, but her words hit him like a hard blow to the diaphragm. Her life was shadowed by cultural typecasts and lewd sexual preoccupation. And he was just as guilty as any of the others. Her silky curtain of black hair, her dark eyes, the honeyed undertones of her alabaster skin, the clothes she wore… he was attracted to the many characteristics representative of her heritage. He was just another one of those bigoted bastards.

I’m, um, so sorry you have to deal with all that. His voice stuck in his throat, blocked by the clump of his own unwitting objectification, coming out a coarse whisper that it hurt to swallow past. He stared at his plate, still piled with untouched Dan Dan noodles. The Sichuan spice turned to nuclear waste in his gut. He couldn’t look at Lin. Not in the eye. Not after hearing how she had been treated. He was a world-class ass for lusting blindly after her. On the bright side, the painful crimp of his pants lessened as his erection waned. I, uh…Can I just get a go box for the rest of this? I’m not all that hungry.

Ty stood in unfamiliar territory. He was a warrior, a Drengr. But he’d been trained to fight physical enemies. To fight Níðhöggr. To save the world from an outside threat. But how could he fight the demeaning attitudes of the world he’d sworn to protect? How could he fight his own ignorance?

Sure, if anyone found out he was a dragon-shifter, they’d no doubt react out of fear and treat him like a freak, or worse. For this reason, his clan had spent centuries keeping their nature secret. The fact he looked like a normal human helped. But Lin was human, and she couldn’t hide the attributes of her heritage. She shouldn’t have to. She shouldn’t be treated any differently than anyone else.

Dammit. The muttered curse came from Lin. Ty glanced up. She had buried her face in her hands. Was she crying? Should he comfort her? How? He couldn’t hug her,