Tropical Dragon's Destiny Read online

  Tropical Dragon’s Destiny

  Zoe Chant

  © 2019 Zoe Chant

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Shifting Sands Resort

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  What’s Next?

  More Paranormal Romance by Zoe Chant

  Zoe Chant on Audio

  Zoe Chant, writing under other names

  Shifting Sands Resort

  This is the final book of the Shifting Sands Resort series. All of my books are standalones (No cliffhangers! Always a happy ending!) and can be read independently, but many of these characters reappear in subsequent books, and there is a series arc. This book in particular is chock full of spoilers for the rest of the series, so I suggest reading in order:

  Tropical Tiger Spy (Book 1)

  Tropical Wounded Wolf (Book 2)

  Tropical Bartender Bear (Book 3)

  Tropical Lynx's Lover (Book 4)

  Tropical Dragon Diver (Book 5)

  Tropical Panther’s Penance (Book 6)

  Tropical Christmas Stag (Book 7)

  Tropical Leopard’s Longing (Book 8)

  Tropical Lion’s Legacy (Book 9)

  Tropical Dragon’s Destiny (Book 10)

  The Master Shark's Mate (A Fire & Rescue Shifters/Shifting Sands Resort crossover, occurs in the timeline between Tropical Wounded Wolf and Tropical Bartender Bear)

  Firefighter Phoenix (A Fire & Rescue Shifters novel, has scenes set at Shifting Sands Resort, and occurs in the timeline between Tropical Christmas Stag and Tropical Leopard’s Longing)

  Chapter 1

  There were several ways to get to Shifting Sands Resort that would have been faster than flying under his own power, but Mal enjoyed the journey and his dragon was grateful for a chance to spread his wings.

  It was a long, leisurely flight, letting the world shrink beneath him to model scale. Whole countries were reduced to patchworks of farms and forests and wrinkles of mountains. The hours seemed short and Mal had a pang of regret as first the coast appeared beneath them and then the island that was their goal.

  I am not winded, his dragon said wistfully. I am strong and powerful. I could fly much longer than this.

  But the sun was beginning to set and Mal didn’t want to be so rude as to try to check in after full dark.

  The island was a brilliant green jewel on an ocean that was beginning to turn gold.

  As beautiful as it was, Mal’s sense of unease only increased as he approached.

  The storms on the way were still distant, past the horizon; the only clouds were fluffy and harmless, stained in sunset colors.

  But a swift, high circle of the island confirmed all of his worst fears.

  There were weird currents of magic where there ought to be a smooth blanket of it and the tenor of the energy was off-key and unhealthy, like dark poison was running through veins in the earth. Something was very wrong here.

  I almost waited too long, he realized in dismay. He’d been too tolerant of the resort owner’s resistance to his plans, too interested to see what she would do next. His curiosity had almost been a disaster.

  There was a particularly odd hiccup of power some distance from the resort, buried in the jungle, and Mal nearly went to investigate it despite the sinking sun. But his dragon gave a sudden burst of interest. There, he said urgently.

  Mal folded his wings and dropped from the darkening sky to the sparkling resort below.

  There! his dragon repeated, and they angled to land on the lawn downhill of a hall ringed in Greek columns near the top of the resort. Cheerful music and bright light streamed from the grand building.

  Mal shifted so seamlessly he might as well have been descending a staircase, his luggage going from being cradled in claws to being carried effortlessly in human hands. He’d dressed in evening best, not wanting to meet the owner of the resort at any disadvantage, and he was glad now that he had; there was clearly a formal dance in progress.

  The event hall was elegant and spacious. Couples were dancing and talking and drinking in a warm swirl of cheer and happiness.

  Mal walked in slowly, picking out faces from among the many guests that were familiar from his investigations. The shyly laughing blonde would be Mary and the man she was dancing with was her mate and new husband, the former Marine, Neal.

  There were two women browsing at the snack table; the towering amazon was Alice, and the brunette woman who would have been tiny even not standing next to her was Amber, her belly round with new life. Their mates, Grant—so recently still hiding under the name of Graham—and Tony respectively, were comparing notes by the bar where Tex, the cowboy bartender, was being distracted by a dark-skinned woman who was kissing his cheek. She had to be Laura and the woman who looked exactly like her was Jenny, the lawyer who had met him in battles of contracts many times... and hadn’t always lost. Her mate, Travis, was tightening the connections on a chair nearby.

  The reformed thug, Wrench, was dancing around the floor very staidly with flashy, dark-haired Lydia, the swan shifter in charge of the spa. Breck, the leopard shifter in waiter finery, was less restrained as he sashayed around with the strawberry-blonde Darla, spinning and dipping her. He wasted no opportunity to kiss her whenever the dance brought them together. Saina, a bindi sparkling at her brow, was dancing more serenely with Bastian, the lifeguard.

  Then the dancers parted for a moment and Mal saw Scarlet.

  The owner of the resort, the voice on the phone that brooked no nonsense and had a hundred ways of saying no. The mysterious woman who had reappeared after nearly forty years to restart the resort without a word of explanation.

  Every one of his spies had agreed that she was unexpectedly powerful, and unexpectedly shrewd. They didn’t have answers for his questions, only more puzzle pieces that didn’t fit anywhere: she had great strength, keen intuition, and seemed to show up at the worst possible times.

  A mercenary Mal had questioned extensively swore on his grandmother’s grave that he’d shot the woman point-blank and hadn’t harmed her at all.

  And no one had ever seen her shift.

  Alice, the last informant he’d sent in, claimed Scarlet had no shift form whatsoever and Mal had no reason to doubt her, even while it raised a whole garden of new questions. If she wasn’t a shifter, what was she, and why would someone who wasn’t a shifter invest so much energy into a resort that was exclusive to them?

  She was certainly everything her photographs had promised... and somehow more. Her profile was elegant, and her up-swept hair was impossibly red in real life. The line of her neck was long and inviting and when she smiled at something, Mal had an unexpected moment of unsteadiness.

  Curiosity made him put down his bags and make a swift, subtle gesture with a short murmur of words. Power swam into his vision by comma
nd and he was suddenly looking at the room with an overlay of energy.

  Most humans had a spark of magic, just a hint, hardly worth noting. Normal animal shifters glowed with it; a slight aura all around them that reflected the strength of their animal, and the room was full of those. Saina, a siren, had a sparkling source of enchanted light around her human form and her dragon mate shone just as brightly. All of their mate bonds glimmered like curious flickers at the edge of his vision, connecting each of them no matter where in the room they were. It was unusual to have so many of them in one place, Mal mused.

  Mal noticed Gizelle for the first time then. Her curious magic leaked from her in a fractured pattern where she sat next to her mate, Conall, as he played guitar with the band, her touch enabling him to hear. He was an extinct Irish elk and his glow was brighter than most normal shifters, if muted compared to the mythical creatures.

  And they all might have been blown-out candles compared to Scarlet.

  The light of her power swamped them all, even at this distance, behind the noise of all the dancers. She was intense, brilliant, streaming luminescence. Her energy completely blotted out the physical form beneath it.

  So much energy.

  She was unimaginably strong. Mal had never seen anything like it. The information he’d been given barely scratched the surface of what she was.

  She had spotted him, he realized, blinking through the radiance. She put down her drink and began to weave her way gracefully through the dancers to greet him as he released the sight spell.

  Even as normal sight returned, Mal could still sense the power shimmering from her. She was so potent that it sizzled all the air around her; people retreated from her path without recognizing it.

  Of course she is that powerful, Mal’s dragon said, his voice rich with desire. A mate of ours would be no less.

  This complicated everything.

  Chapter 2

  Scarlet let herself enjoy the evening without reservation or regret.

  The event hall was filled with light and laughter and music. Everything felt simply perfect.

  The people she cared about most were all here, safe in the resort she had built to shelter them, and the future stretched out optimistically before her.

  She had friends so close she considered them family, security at last... she even had a cat. Scarlet accidentally smiled fondly to think of Tyrant, and the middle-aged guest she was dancing with stumbled and went pale.

  She tempered her smile and guided him back into the steps of the dance, careful not to draw him too close.

  He was still glad when the music ended and Scarlet politely left him at the bar with a nod to Tex.

  She mingled with the others, inquiring about their satisfaction with the accommodations, the food, the entertainment, and she was delighted by their genuine praise. Chef proved himself worth every penny, all over again, and Scarlet was pleased to coax stories of good service from several of the guests. She mentally filed stories to pass on in praise of the spa and the housekeeping.

  She felt the new arrival just a moment before he arrived at the far door but took a moment to conclude her conversation with an elderly woman who was giggling with her about Breck’s attentions during meals. “Such a nice young man,” the woman said.

  “He is,” Scarlet agreed with a chuckle. Finding a mate hadn’t stopped Breck from flirting outrageously, even if it meant less now than it ever had. “I’m sure he has saved a dance for you and I will send him over to collect on that in very short order,” she promised. “If you will excuse me?”

  The newcomer was tall and broad-shouldered, very appropriately dressed in a fine, tailored suit with just a touch of gold embroidery at the wrist. Dragon shifter, Scarlet remembered from the guest list, which made sense given the unscheduled arrival and the extravagant clothing. Mal Moore, her memory provided.

  He was also, she thought wryly, rather stunningly good looking and it did unsettling things to her belly when he smiled confidently at her approach.

  Down girl, she reminded herself. He was a guest. This was just a standard business meeting.

  “Mr. Moore,” she greeted with a hand extended politely. “Welcome to Shifting Sands Resort.”

  He stepped forward to take her hand and they ended up standing rather closer than she had intended. He didn’t shake her hand, only held it in his strong fingers and looked down on her with an expression that might have been wonder in his warm brown eyes.

  “Mal,” he said. “You can call me Mal.”

  Scarlet tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Mal. My name is...”

  “Scarlet. Scarlet Stanson.”

  The sound of her name from his mouth sent a shiver down her back and his hand, still holding hers, was terribly distracting. “Yes,” she said, trying to regain her hand and her composure. She met handsome men all the time and managed to keep herself in control; she wasn’t sure why this one should be any different.

  “May I have this dance?”

  In timing that was either terrible or utterly perfect, the band had just launched into a new song and Scarlet couldn’t find—and didn’t want to find—an excuse to say no. “Certainly,” she said politely, and to her shock, he pulled her into a close dance position rather than open, one hand possessively at her waist, the other clasping hers.

  She had to tip her chin up unexpectedly far to keep locked to his gaze and she was baffled that he didn’t seem the slightest bit uncomfortable meeting her eyes.

  For a few phrases of music, he led her effortlessly through the steps and Scarlet had to resist the urge to close her eyes and simply float blissfully in his strong arms. Her partners were usually more cautious with her, careful and afraid. He guided her out into a flashy spin and back in again.

  Scarlet attempted to regain control of the situation when the music slowed. “Mal, is that short for Malcolm?” she asked conversationally, as if she didn’t feel the slightest bit giddy.

  He laughed, deep and intoxicating, and shook his head. “I should be so lucky,” he said. He lowered his head as if he was imparting a great secret. “My given name is Normal.”

  Scarlet, suspecting a joke, chuckled. “Surely it isn’t.”

  He sighed dramatically. “It is, I swear.”

  “Did your parents have such high aspirations for you?” Scarlet asked archly.

  “They were forced into it. Dragon honor, you know.”

  He turned her, and for a moment Scarlet held her breath, wondering if he would dip her. He didn’t, but there was a pause in the music where he simply held her and Scarlet felt like every nerve in her body was awake for the first time in decades and she was made entirely of all the longing she fought so hard to keep in check.

  Then they were dancing a simple back and forth again and he continued. “When my mother was pregnant with me, she was crossing a busy street and tripped in front of an oncoming bus. She would surely have been hit and died if it weren’t for a young man who pulled her out of the way. My father asked for his name, because in these cases, the least they were obligated to do was name me after him, but he refused, shrugging and saying that he was just a normal guy, doing the right thing.”

  “So they named you Normal?” Scarlet really did laugh then, and Mal grinned at her in a way that made her tingle to her toes.

  She dampened her merriment with determination, but could not quite keep from smiling back at him. “Most people would go with their middle name in such cases,” Scarlet observed.

  “I assure you, my middle name is even worse,” Mal said with a suffering sigh. There was something familiar about his voice...

  The music was swelling again and he led her into a turn away from him so that Scarlet was looking away when everything crashed into place and she finally realized who this had to be.

  Normal. Normal Moore, with an unlikely middle name and a common last name. N. Moore. N. Padrikanth Moore, Beehag’s vindictive lawyer: the man who had been attempting to roust her from the island for more than a ye
ar, trying to woo away her staff and destroy her business.

  Scarlet slipped from his grip and had to temper her desire to turn and punch him in the middle of the dance floor. She had stalked halfway across the hall to the far exit when he caught her—or tried to.

  “Scarlet,” he called. “Wait!” He seemed puzzled when he couldn’t catch her arm. She wasn’t about to let him touch her again.

  She turned and met his eyes with blazing fury.

  “Get out,” she said quietly between gritted teeth. “Get out of my resort and off my island.” It was a growl, and no part of the threat was veiled.

  He should have backed off. Anyone else would have left his bags and fled in the face of her anger.

  But Mal, N. Padrikanth Moore, only stepped forward. “I have a reservation,” he said, maddeningly.

  And dammit, he did. Mal Moore was a registered guest, with a signed contract, and Scarlet was forced to honor that.

  “You are a guest,” she conceded, furious. “Cottage four. It’s unlocked, I’ll have a key delivered to you in the morning. If you have business with me, you can make an appointment and I will see you with my lawyer. You have her number.”

  “I need to speak with you about the offer you made,” Mal said swiftly.

  “You can’t stop me,” Scarlet snarled and this time she was the one who stepped forward, every inch of her bristling in challenge. “You can try your dirty tricks and your pretty promises on someone else, but you will never take this place from me.”

  The hall was silent. Scarlet wasn’t sure if the song had ended or if the musicians had simply stopped playing, but she was suddenly aware that all of the guests and all of the staff were watching from the other end of the hall.

  “Scarlet,” he said, too quietly for them to hear, “please stop being so stubborn.”

  That was the voice she knew from dozens of staticky phone calls: that infuriatingly superior attitude, that pretense of being reasonable.

  “You are a guest,” Scarlet repeated through clenched teeth. “Please enjoy the amenities we have to offer and contact a member of the staff if you have any problems or questions.”