Dragon Unleashed (Accidental Alchemy Book 1)

Dragon Unleashed ACCIDENTAL ALCHEMY BOOK ONE JESSICA WAYNE HEATHER HILDENBRAND Contents Blurb 1. Paige 2. Aries 3. Paige 4. Paige 5. Paige 6. Aries 7. Paige 8. Aries 9. Paige 10. Paige 11. Aries 12. Paige 13. Paige 14. Paige 15. Aries 16. Paige 17. Aries 18. Paige 19. Paige 20. Aries 21. Paige 22. Paige 23. Paige From the Authors About Jessica Wayne About Heather Hildenbrand Also By Jessica Wayne Also by Heather Hildenbrand Blurb I accidentally freed the king of all dragons. As an intern for the world's only supernatural library, it's my job to make sure nothing inside the books gets out. Unfortunately, I suck at it. Blame it on too much pumpkin spice, but one rainy afternoon, I somehow manage to conjure a literal book boyfriend. Aries is fire. And I mean that in the very real sense of the word. Not just the ripped abs and a jaw that could cut steel, but the fire-breathing, flame-inducing, might-burn-this-freaking-building-to-the-ground kind of heat. The attraction between us is undeniable. The danger? Even more tangible. Because the king of dragons isn’t the only creature I’ve unleashed. In the hushed stacks of the library, something stalks. No story is complete without a villain–and I’ve just met mine. Unless Aries and I can reverse the damage, there will be no happily ever after. Not for us. Chapter 1 Paige This particular Thursday starts out like every other. I’m early to rise, quick to coffee, and off to work. The fact that my workplace is the ancient and very secret library that exists one floor below my small Boston apartment is just a bonus that means I don’t have to deal with rush hour traffic or, well, humans in general. Then again, it’s not my choice to remain separate from the humans, so I’m not sure that’s actually what I’d call a bonus. But I’ve made my peace with it. There is—unfortunately—no other option. The work I do here is too important to risk creating any attachments out there. As an intern for the Athenaeum, the creatures I interact with are few and far between—and rarely ever human. Trolls, giants, elves, fae, shifters—the clientele that come to study or search the library are diverse and strange. Have you ever met a banshee bookworm with a top-secret clearance? It’s not a combination one might expect. Also, not to stereotype, but banshees are just weird in general. With my earbuds streaming a spicy alien romance audiobook, I spend the morning patrolling the ogre section and watching for anything sneaky or out of place among the quiet stacks. The Athenaeum has one purpose, and that is to contain the threats trapped among the pages of the volumes kept inside it. As the library’s newest—and most hopeful—intern, my job is to make sure nothing inside the books contained here makes it out again. Unfortunately for the Athenaeum, I kind of suck at it. As if to prove my point, a large tome on the end of the shelf shakes ominously as I pass it. A single, gnarled green finger pries itself from between the pages, attempting to push the book open. I rush forward, adrenaline surging. With two hands, I grab the book and squeeze it shut again. “Clauseruntque,” I hiss and the green finger withdraws as the book seals itself shut at the command of the magic. Exhaling, I re-shelve the book into its proper place then let go and back away, bumping into the shelf at my back. Several books vibrate with the impact, and I suck in a breath, jumping clear of them before my clumsy ass can do any more damage. A moment passes, and the books fall silent again. Damn, that was close. It happens far more often than I care to admit. As though, for some reason, the books enjoy toying with me. Truthfully, I wonder if they can sense how afraid I am of screwing things up. They don’t act like this for the full-fledged keepers, that’s for sure. I tune back in to the audiobook still playing in my ears and resume my patrol, fingers crossed the incident wasn’t strong enough to raise any alarms with Hoc. I can’t really afford any more fuckups. Not after I barely managed to avoid getting thrown out for the last one. So, I keep strolling, putting one foot in front of the other while I imagine the hands of a deliciously muscled blue alien running all over my body. A shifter—as evidenced by her golden gaze—steps into the aisle and looks up. She mouths something, but I can’t hear her. She repeats— “ . Sorry!” I pull one of my earbuds out. “No biggie,” she says easily. Her blonde hair is long and braided over her shoulder. When she smiles, I get the sense that she’s new to the library. Mainly because the smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and it’s not hard to sense her uneasiness here. She’s not the only one. Most of our guests don’t realize how alive this place truly is until they experience it for themselves. “Can I help you?” I ask. “Yes. Please. I’m trying to find some history on shifters. Books detailing what comes first in terms of creation. A real chicken or the egg type of situation.” She laughs. I return her humor, deciding that, if I were going to make a friend outside of this place, she could be one of them. “Yes. We have quite a lot of reference material about shifters in the non-fiction section. Unless, of course, you want a spelled fictional story.” “No, thanks,” she says with a shudder. “I’ve had enough dealings with spells to last a lifetime.” “Well—” “Serenity,” she offers. “Serenity,” I continue, “You can find the non-fiction down the hall and toward the back. There’s a sign over it, though it might not be lit yet.” Damn gnomes. They had one job this morning. “Great. Thanks so much—” “Paige,” I say. “Paige. Great name.” She