Dragon's Curvy Patient: A BWWM Single Dad Dragon Shifter Romance (Dragon's Curvy Romance Series Book 4) Read online

  DRAGON’S CURVY PATIENT

  MYCHAL DANIELS

  WISE MIND MEDIA

  Dragon’s Curvy Patient Copyright © 2019 by Michelle Spiva for Wise Mind Media

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author and publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Cover Design by Michelle Spiva

  CONTENTS

  Summary

  1. Sabra “Bria” Patterson

  2. Bria

  3. Bria

  4. Doctor Colson “Cole” Kelnar

  5. Bria

  6. Cole

  7. Bria

  8. Cole

  9. Cole

  10. Bria

  11. Bria

  12. Cole

  13. Bria

  14. Bria

  15. Cole

  16. Bria

  17. Bria

  18. Cole

  19. Bria

  20. Bria

  21. Cole

  22. Bria

  23. Bria

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Author Notes

  About the Author

  Also by Mychal Daniels

  Summary

  Dragon’s Curvy Patient

  By Mychal Daniels

  “Cole… bae, are you my bae?” she asked with an obvious struggle to form words. “Can I ride on your back naked, like in that strength picture?”

  “What?” He stopped himself realizing her concussion was showing its handy work. He leaned back to break her spell before adding, “Maybe later, after we get you back on your feet.”

  * * *

  Time for a reset.

  Sabra Patterson has bitten off more than she can chew. After a legal miscalculation, Sabra’s kiddie-pageant hairstyling company has failed. She’s been social media shamed and facing bankruptcy—at the tender age of twenty-eight!

  When a desperate Sabra Patterson asks her best friend to do an Oracle reading, little does she know that the wheels of destiny start to spin.

  She’s facing the cataclysmic collapse of her business. Determined to regroup and rebuild herself by following her true passion, Sabra is talked into giving a speech that forever changes the course of her life.

  Sabra Patterson can’t believe the tall sexiness wearing the Sour Patch Kids face has the nerve to approach her. After a night of scowling and doing everything to ignore her, this guy is trying to be kind and helpful? She’s got work to do. He’s offering to help, and she’s calling his bluff.

  Sabra isn’t ready for the sucker punch fate throws her way. When she falls, both literally and figuratively, under the care of this Doctor, her life is turned upside down. Will Sabra be able to resist the charms of the sexy doctor to return to her plan to build her new company? Or, will she succumb to forces so powerful they promise to rewrite the fundamental definition of who she is?

  Family duty and honor rule his way.

  Doctor Colson Kelnar is the even-tempered, self-controlled one of the Kelnar Dragons. No brute force, macho man Dragon tactics for him. No, he’s refined and has life under control.

  His private medical services company’ success has grown to the point where he’s able to spend his time raising his young daughter and fulfilling family social obligations. That’s what he’s attempting to do when fate hooks him into the pursuit of his heart’s greatest treasure.

  Sabra Patterson is that rare jewel that knocks Colson off his perfect equilibrium. She’s an independent spirit who has no problem proclaiming that she does what she wants. How can he not do everything in his power to claim her? She’s his perfect mate.

  Desperate times call for drastic measures. When the mating thrall throws him off his usual self-disciplined game, Colson has to re-evaluate his idea of how to woo his mate. After a few failed attempts, his Dragon is pissed, and he’s desperate enough to take advice from a werewolf! There isn’t anything he won’t do to win her heart.

  Unable to think of anything but winning his mate, he must rely on the wisdom of his Dragon to guide him through. With his hunger for his mate growing exponentially and an inability to have an appetite for anything but her, will Colson finally get Sabra to accept him as her mate, or will he be doomed to the fate of a shell of himself?

  1

  Sabra “Bria” Patterson

  “Okay, so…” her friend’s voice trailed off.

  That didn’t sound good. This has to work—it has to.

  A shaking knee collided with the sturdy panel of the table. The pain shot a direct path to her mouth.

  “Come on, give me a break here.”

  “Shush it.”

  Sabra Patterson watched and tried to remember to breathe the exquisite smells of aromatics.

  She failed.

  Deep, steadying breaths eluded her. Had it been someone else Sabra would deem such a waste of masterfully combined fusions of flower essences and delicate essential oils unforgivable.

  Stylish but intimate, the table between them did nothing to soften the impact of the experience. The other woman maintained an implacable focus as she laid out the cards in measured concentration. Each card made a soft thwack as it landed. Sabra found it hard to resist a bit of a hop as each card exposed its face. The table made it hard to express herself the way Sabra wanted to.

  She’d talked herself into getting this reading and Sabra determined to get through it. The last three months had been a hell she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Desperate times called for drastic measures.

  “Tilar, please? I hate it when you do that. Just go on and tell me. I can see that explosion on this card,” Sabra pointed to the colorful card labeled, Tower. A card, full of bold colors, depicted a medieval tower exploding with a naked man falling out of it. “And, don’t think I don’t know what that one with the skull is too. I can see the cards, same as you. Am I going to die? That card says Death!” Through quick, short breaths, she managed to get out, “I can’t die. I’m too young to die. I need to replace my mediocre sex encounters with an orgasmic experience at least once before I die!”

  Even the peonies scent she loved so much weren’t enough to stop the avalanche of rising emotions from consuming her. Without looking up, Tilar placed one of her handmade scented regulators on the table. The ones that Sabra had consulted with Tilar on how to infuse with the right scents for proper aromatherapy.

  Sabra took the obvious hint, picked it up, and placed the soft piece of pillow-soft material against her chest. Lavender wafted up.

  Oh no, these cards must be super crappy. She gave me the lavender pillow!

  It didn’t take a brain surgeon to tell her that Sabra was close to losing it. Her eyes darted around and tried to take in all
the colorful cards laid out between them. It was no use. She hadn’t a clue what they meant. That sucked and didn’t work for her. Sabra couldn’t stand having any more barriers between her and how to fix this mess.

  How would she stop the damage and fix her reputation? Sabra needed a reputation repair consultant, not a card reading.

  “Stop it. I can hear your mind whizzing about from here.”

  “But they’re out to ruin me! I—”

  “But nothing. You’re bouncing around like a worm in hot ashes. Sit still before you break something and get put out.”

  The air grew still. Tilar wasn’t playing. She would put her out. Sabra fought looming shadow monsters to remain seated and composed. Tilar really would put her out if she lost her cool in here. This room was Tilar’s pristine, personal home office after all.

  Earthy browns, dark blues, rich purples, and splashes of golden but vibrant yellows that could only be pulled off by the skillful hands of a talented designer crowded in. Everything about the room accused Sabra of turning away from her true calling.

  “Breathe and stop being so crass. Geez, Bria, no one ever said you were intuitively slow—or drama free. I used your favorite scent blends for this. Do your nose thing and calm down.” Tilar looked up. Something in Sabra’s face must have conveyed the anxiety in a better way, since Tilar added, “Please, lovey, it’s going to all work itself out. It always does. Now, sit up straight; no slouching. Get a grip and let me work.” Tilar used that calm but firm voice she got when dealing with Sabra’s hysterics.

  Uh-oh, Tilar was in a full-on intuitive mode. She’d be calm, methodical, and distant until she finished. Sabra’s world closed in. She needed the attentive, warm, emotionally supportive Tilar—not this distant Oracle version of her.

  Sabra let her low mumble loose. “Stop being mean.”

  “Mean? I’m not the one with a lynch mob after me.”

  “That’s cold.”

  “No, Bria, that’s truth—something you need more than anything. Deal with it.”

  Yep, stone cold Tilar was in residence.

  “Come on and reshuffle one time for me. Please? I wasn’t ready.” Sabra waited and waited. Nothing but silence met her request. “I call for a redo!”

  Looking at the doom and gloom spread out between them, she had to shoot her shot. Sabra needed her friend to soften up a bit. Her sanity couldn’t handle the mounting fears of isolation. All hell had broken loose, and her life was in pieces.

  “I need answers, now.” Sabra stabbed a finger through the oppressive space between her and the offending cards. “I can’t take it. Look at them, taunting me. Tilar, I think we should reshuffle and do it again. I don’t like these.”

  “Stop that.” Tilar slapped Sabra’s hands away. “No touching my cards unless and when I say so.” Tilar eagle-eyed Sabra’s torso and commanded, “Sniff the pillow.”

  The cards seemed to glare back at Sabra in defiance. “But I don’t like them. They’re scary.” Sabra waggled her finger far enough away not to get popped again. “Could you move that Tower one back toward you?”

  “I can but won’t. It’ll mess up my spread.”

  “Okay to whatever that means.” Sabra hated when her friends spoke jargon from their very different career worlds. She didn’t go around referring to pageantry stuff. Where was the compassion here?

  “Are you sniffing?”

  Sabra took in a huge inhale. Prevailing lavender and the other scents came to her rescue enough to punch down erratic processes flooding her cardiovascular and digestive systems. Her stomach was the first to stop churning followed by the slowing down of her heart.

  It was the no-nonsense look on Tilar’s face that landed the most significant impact on Sabra’s mood, though. Once she regathered her common sense to realize she was pushing it with Tilar, she pulled her hand back to rest in her lap. The other hand continued to press the pillow against her chest as she dutifully sniffed.

  “That’s better. Don’t try it again or make me regret this,” was the deadpan response Tilar landed as she leveled a look that would make a Banshee shut it.

  Sabra complied and composed herself. No use getting in her feelings. Tilar wasn’t here to console. She was here to communicate with ultimate wisdom and convey that truth. Tilar didn’t need to be nice. Her psychic accuracy made up for what her emotional input lacked. Sabra remained quiet as the other woman waved a hand over a spread of Tarot cards.

  “As for the cards, this is what we were dealt. This is what we’ll work with. Give me a moment to connect with what I see and get.”

  Sabra leaned in ready to hear what her friend had to say. Tilar Sampson had a gift. One that scared the hell out of Sabra, but one that she needed in times like this.

  Lips dry from worry demanded moisture as Sabra bit her lower one. Anyone coming into the expertly stylish room at this moment would only see two posh, voluptuous black girls hunched over fanciful cards spread on a table. That table and everything in this room were indicative of Tilar’s impeccable taste which could best be described as too delicious for words.

  Sabra would have to correct the observer by adding that she was in the presence of a masterful intuitive. An intuitive who had taken mercy on her to do an impromptu meeting to help her get her life in order.

  The shaky breath gave Sabra enough strength to proceed. “I’m ready. Hit me with it. I knew they were up to something. I knew it!”

  Tilar put up a hand. “Shush and let me concentrate.”

  “It’s like a soap opera. These women are vicious. I’ve never seen such vile villainy. You don’t know how wicked they are. I’m just one person. They’ve ganged up on me!”

  This time, Tilar didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she continued to peer at the cards, close her eyes, peer at the cards again, and nod. Sabra watched this go on for another few minutes.

  When it seemed, she couldn’t take it anymore, Tilar spoke.

  “Bria, it’s not that bad.” Tilar pointed at that damned Tower and began to speak. “This card means that you’re going through a time of reconstruction.”

  “Duh—you don’t say.”

  Tilar ignored her and kept talking. “In classical terms, the Tower card signifies the swift destruction of things, events, or relationships built on a false foundation.”

  And… it was back.

  Anxiety sprang forward in vengeance. Sabra’s stomach took the lead in sounding off. The churn and growls her stomach made were loud and obnoxious. The expertly mixed concoction of lemon, peonies, and frankincense did nothing to settle her racing mind. Sabra couldn’t resist looking up into large dark brown eyes that seemed to see everything.

  “What?” she asked, hoping Tilar wouldn’t require any information to support her statement.

  “Bria, this is a no-judgment zone, remember? I’m doing this for my friend, not a client. I want you to get all the insight and wisdom you need to get on the other side of this trial you’re in.”

  “All I wanted to do was protect my process and my brand,” Sabra whined.

  “I know, lovey, but you threw down the gauntlet. Now, you have to deal with the consequences.” Tilar’s voice held no comfort. The woman was as even-keeled as ever.

  “Tilar, am I going to lose it all?” Sabra hated how pitiful she sounded. Her only solace was that talking to Tilar was like going into the ultimate vault of confession. That woman never betrayed a confidence.

  “Ladybug, would it be so bad if you did? You only got that hair license as a way to pay for school, right?”

  All Sabra could manage was a nod.

  “Just because a path is easily given doesn’t mean it can’t be easily taken. You have to come to terms with what you want. Fight for that, not a gilded cage.”

  Sabra looked at her friend with renewed respect. “Didn’t you tell me the same thing when we graduated from college?”

  “I think I’ve told both you and Chloe this, many times, back then and since. Y’all are going to learn to list
en to me.” Tilar was kind enough to soften the scolding with a wink.

  Sabra didn’t want to hear the truth, but it was her only way out of this mess. “Okay then, I promise to listen this time. It’s either this or become my lawyer’s bitch for the next twenty years.”

  “That much for the lawsuits?”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to cope. It’s all Melanie Peele’s doing. That heifer is ruthless.”

  “She’s a mom. Once she cools down, you’ll be fine.” Tilar’s hand was soft and warm as it gave Sabra’s a gentle squeeze. Another look with eyes softened by compassion, and Tilar asked, “Are you ready to hear what you seek?”

  Another nod was all Sabra could muster. Then, she pulled the pillow up to her nose and sniffed long and steady.

  “You are going to have to lose it all to find yourself and true calling.”

  “Dang it—that damned Melanie.”

  “Don’t blame her. She’s just an unwitting instrument employed by your destiny.” Tilar pointed to a card. It had a large trumpet at the top and a considerable cauldron at the bottom with a nude woman rising out of it. Once she seemed convinced Sabra wouldn’t fall out from worry, she continued in that soothing voice of hers, “This card here is the Judgement card. In this position, it’s what is driving all these actions. The Death card is like the Tower but shows that you’re in a transformation.

  “The Tower, Judgement, and Death cards grouped like this,” Tilar’s pointing finger made a swirling motion above the set of three cards, “they signify that your entire life is going to change—fast. These three cards, hmm let me see…” Tilar pointed to a set of cards with women on them. “Ooh, I’ve got it. Thank you, Spirit. Ooh, yes, yes, Sabra, listen up.”

  Sabra had to remember to close her mouth as Tilar’s new excitement flowed over her. She grasped at its refreshment from her perch in the desert of despair. It had only taken a few hours after the latest legal beatdown for her entire world to collapse. She hoped Tilar had the key to unlock a way out of this.

  “I’m listening. Do your thing.”