About A Private Hunger
Author: Sean Michael
Word Count: 46000
Page Count (pdf): 170
ISBN: 978-1-988377-45-2
Date Published: March 8, 2017
Publisher: Sean Michael
Price: 4.99
Genre: Paranormal
Pairing: MM
Series name and number: n/a
Heat Rating: 
Summary:
What happens when you find out the man you’re in love with is actually a dragon?
Matthew is taking a break before going to university, working at a cafe in Seattle. He expects to spend a few months meeting people, having fun and generally living it up before hitting the books. Then he meets Drakon, a passionate, masculine man with an animal magnetism that draws Matthew in.
As Matthew moves in with Drakon on his country estate and slowly finds himself cut off from the world around him, he begins to wonder if that animal magnetism is more literal than figurative and if Drakon would be more aptly named Dragon.
Will Matthew stay with the man he’s growing to love once he discovers Drakon’s long-lived, carefully guarded secret?
Originally released with Torquere Press and All Romance Ebooks.
Excerpt:
Chapter One
He grabbed the coffee cups off the table, whistling low and easy. His hips were still sore from last night’s dancing, but it felt good, fine, a sweet burn.
Jennie popped his ass as she walked by. “You’re too cheerful for words, Matt-baby. You get laid last night?”
Matt shook his head, red curls falling into his eyes. “Just dancing, Miss Thing. Just boogying.”
She laughed and headed on, coffee pot held tight in her hand.
Two men came in together, one older, distinguished looking. Like a British butler, really. The other was tall, striking, with hair like a mane, dark gold surrounding a golden face and falling down the man’s back.
They sat at one of his tables.
Fucking hot.
He headed over, two menus in hand, telling his jumpy prick to behave. “Afternoon, guys. I’m Matt. Can I get you some coffee? Tea?”
“What about you?” asked the hot one.
Matt blinked, blushed dark, and then recovered with a grin. Flirting. He could do flirting. “I’m working and not on the menu, sadly enough.”
“I guess I shall have to settle for tea, then. I don’t suppose you have something wild and strong?”
“We’ve got a nice blackberry and black tea.” He craned his neck, looking at the specials board. “And another from South America that people seem to like.”
The man growled, actually growled, looking discontentedly at his companion.
“I would be happy to drive you home and serve you what you want, Master Drakon.”
The growling stopped, the hot guy’s mouth twitching into a half smile. “I am most certain that you would not, Wetthers, though you are right, we have better teas at home.”
“Master Drakon” turned back to him, and Matt realized that one of the man’s eyes was brown, the other blue. “How much are they paying you to serve here?”
“Excuse me?” He blinked again. What an odd man.
The man’s eyes narrowed and he asked the question again, enunciating each word very carefully. Matt noticed he had an accent, just barely there. “I asked you how much are they paying you to work here.”
“I heard you, sir. I was just making sure I heard you right.” Rude asshole. “I make minimum wage plus tips, same as every waiter in this town. Are you always this ill-mannered or am I just really lucky?”
To his surprise, the man laughed, the sound low and rich. “Oh, you are a feisty one. Go tell them you have been employed elsewhere and we will leave for my estate immediately. I shall double your salary and of course room and board shall be included. Wetthers will settle all the pesky details with you and the IRS as necessary.”
Matt looked over at the old guy. “Is he for real? I mean, dude, you need a waiter at home?”
The old man seemed quite unperturbed by the goings on. “Master Drakon has made you an offer, young man. If you wish to accept it, I can assure you that it is ‘for real.’”
“Look, I’m not an idiot or a whore. You come in and tell me to quit my job and come with you without so much as sharing names, or you knowing more than I can walk and read a chalkboard.” He shook his head, fingers moving to his side, his skin burning. “I’m flattered, but no, thank you.”
The hot one—Drakon—growled again and stood. “Well, if you change your mind and decide you want to know about the handprint on your ass, maybe I’ll be willing to see you.” Drakon patted his ass, but not right on, more to the side where his birthmark was. With that, the man walked out.
The man named Wetthers handed Matt a card with a stylized dragon on it and the words Drakon Estates. There was a number beneath it. “If you change your mind. Be very sure before you call.”
“Right. Thanks.” He watched the guy leave and shook his head. “Fucking weird. You see that, Jennie? That dude just propositioned me!”
“Weird.” Jennie shook her head. “Glad he left before your shift was up. I hate waiting on assholes.”
“Yeah.” He nodded and pushed the card into his pocket. Real weird.
Guess he’d have to go dancing tonight to work off the memory.
Whistling, he went back to doing his side work, mind filled with music.
***
Drakon was out hunting.
Quite unusual for him, really, as it was day; he preferred to do his hunting under the moon’s light.
Some odd twist of the stars or something had him out, though, restless and growly, belly rumbling, cock half-hard and rubbing against his leggings.
He wouldn’t change yet, it took the fun out of the hunt, tipped the scales too far in his direction. Not that they weren’t already tipped.
He let his instincts lead him deeper into the woods, moving further and further away from his estate.
He moved closer to the road, scenting… something. Fear? Pain? Panic?
The trees opened to a clearing, and he found three people, one held still by the second while the third landed one blow after another. He growled. Well, that didn’t seem quite fair. And on his grounds to boot.
He sprang into the clearing. “Unhand him.”
“Unhand him? Look, you fucking freak, whether this pansy ass gets beat or not ain’t your business.”
He growled again. It was personal now, and these two thugs were about to become dinner.
A knife came out, the beaten man slumping to the ground as he was dropped. Two men advanced upon him, sweating and angry, full of rage.
Oh, this was going to be fun. They wouldn’t taste the nicest, but the fight they’d put up should be more than worth it. He growled, fingers growing claws as he swung, taking the knife bearer across the chest and leaving four deep grooves.
“Jesus Christ!” The man screamed, taking a step back, shaking his head.
Drakon threw back his head and laughed. “He can’t help you now.”
Another swing caught the second man in the throat, leaving him to fall to the ground, bleeding out.
The first man turned to run, legs pumping as he tore into the trees. Drakon gave chase, letting the man think he had a chance before bringing him down with a deep bite to the back of the neck.
Drakon let the beast out, devouring this one whole before going back to finish off the other. The taste and smell of blood made him roar and feast, growling. They tasted sharp and stringy, but he’d had worse.
When the feeding frenzy eased, he heard the sounds of retching, the wounded man having crawled a few feet away.
He caged the beast once more, cleaning himself on the tattered remains of his shirt and approached the last man cautiously.
He recognized the red curls and long, thin nose, the bright yellow-green eyes, even swollen and bruised—the boy from the coffee shop. His new pet.
Anger filled him, and if they had still been alive, or even just uneaten, he would have torn the two attackers to pieces. As it was, he had the satisfaction of having protected his own.
Bending, he picked the boy up. A soft sob filled the air, the boy curling into his arms.
“It’s okay, my Pet,” he murmured, stroking the boy softly. “You’re safe now.”
He would bring his Pet home.