Dragon Romance: Dragon Fire (Paranormal Shapeshifter Hero Protector Firefighter Romance) (Fantasy Shifter Werewolf BBW Pregnancy Women’s Fiction Short Stories) Read Online Free PDF Page B

morning.
     
    THE END
     

Bonus Books
     
    We just want to say “THANK YOU”.
    You support always means a lot to us. In this book, we have included 20 special bonus stories as a way to show you how much we appreciate your support. We hope you enjoy the stories as much as we do.
     
    Bonus Story 1 of 20

Mated by the Vampires
     
    The lights are flashing wildly.
    Jostling bodies surround me, and my head is a woozy mess. I sway with the crowd, my head lolling around on my neck, which feels like loose rubber. My eyelids droop down.
    There’s music pounding through the air. I can’t place the song but the vibrations from the huge speakers at the head of the dance floor penetrate my very bones. With every pound of the bass my heart shudders and my breath catches in my chest.
    I lost count of how many drinks I’d downed nearly an hour ago. Shot after shot I put back, beckoning the bartender back for more over and over again. Strange men had surrounded me, whooping and cheering me on in their own drunken stupors. Eventually the bartender cut me off and I stumbled away from the counter and into the mass of people.
    A body brushes up against me, closer than normal. I turn my face and see a man smiling down at me, his features a haze before my eyes. He holds out something to me, nodding and smirking.
    A small pill lies in the center of his palm. I grin up at him and snatch it up, slipping it into my mouth. I let it rest on my tongue, opening my mouth wide so he can see it resting there before I swallow it dry.
    It takes mere minutes for me to feel it. I’ve no idea what I’ve just taken, but I couldn’t care less. The lights are dancing around me, swirling and taking on the brightest hues I’ve ever seen.
    The man is behind me now, resting his hands on the sides of my hips and pushing my backside against him. We sway together to the music and I stare up at the lights in awe, my head lolling back against his chest. He starts to kiss my neck but I hardly notice.
    I haven’t noticed the way a man touched me in nearly a year. Now it’s nothing but pressure against my skin, eliciting no special or exciting sensation. I’ve hardly felt a thing in twelve months, waking up in the morning and going through my daily and mindless routine before returning to a blissful sleep in the evening. And then I repeat.
    The weekends are something different, though. I look forward to them. If I’m feeling bad during the week, having a worse day than normal, I simply turn my mind towards thoughts of the weekend and my plans.
    Friday, Saturday, and sometimes even Sunday nights are spent at whatever club I can get into. It’s not difficult for me, I’m an attractive woman. My black hair falls in waves nearly down to my waist and my brown eyes are large and inviting. I have pouty, pink lips and I know how to do my makeup just right. I perfected the smoky eyes long ago, and am an expert at applying lipstick. I have what most refer to as an “hourglass figure”, and I quite the fan of short skirts.
    I’m a good-looking woman. I’m not afraid to admit that. I get into clubs and a man usually latches onto me within minutes. But I don’t feel anything anymore. It’s fun, dancing and making out and sometimes finding a more private setting to fool around. But it’s meaningless and that's how I like it.
    There are moments, after a weekend of partying and staying up until all hours of the morning, high and drunk and barely conscious, that I think about what I’m doing and I cringe. I want more than this, but I don’t know how to get it. I’ve lost every friend I’ve ever had in this past year. Too much drinking, too much partying, too many drugs. Not enough feeling. I hardly speak to my parents and they stopped trying to contact me a long time ago.
    I’m thinking too much, now. Despite the chemicals racing through my veins, visions of his face are coming to mind. His twinkling blue eyes, the stupid beard across his chin that he refused to trim.