Ebony Scales

You can read Ebony Scales free below.

Blurb:

A dragon shifter, BWAM romance book.

Part 2 in the Dragon Tales series.

Dive into a tale where magic collides with reality!

Joy, an African American journalist known for her love for life and relentless pursuit of stories, finds an unlikely match in Longwei, an Asian man and a dragon shifter.

Their love defies expectations, bridging a gap between worlds as different as night and day.

Yet not all is tranquil in their mystical-meets-mundane relationship…

Longwei’s rare powers have put him on the radar of the infamous Triad, sparking a dangerous interest.

Will Joy and Longwei’s connection survive the shadow of the Triad looming over them?

And can they navigate a life constantly under threat, holding onto the love that brought them together?

Find out in this paranormal, Black woman Asian man romance story by R S Holloway.

Chapter 1

Joy squinted her eyes in effort as she pulled on the wrench. In the two weeks since the Triad attack, one of her main jobs in the village was helping Longwei and some of the others who had experience with cars and other vehicles break down the four leftover trucks from the attack.

She was amazed with the variety of ways the villagers had put different truck parts to use. Seatbelts had been stripped out, unwound, and the belting used to repair a plow harness for one of the farms. Engines were pulled out and mounted on wooden stands to act as electrical generators, while driveshafts were converted for the village’s windmills. Even the windshields had been used, with two of the houses in the village now sporting what Joy could only think of as “picture windows.”

Today, Joy was helping on one of the biggest jobs Longwei had devised for the trucks. It was going to be a multi-stage project, requiring months of work from everyone, but once set up, the village would become totally self sufficient in terms of fuel and heating for the winter. Joy didn’t understand it all, but was more than willing to lend a hand where she could.

Which left her here, grease and grime up to her elbows, pulling with all of her might on a wrench, trying to free the last nut holding the oil pump to the main frame of the truck. She had volunteered for the job, as she was the only person with the right combination of strength and small frame to get into the tight space. Unfortunately, the bolts had been seated with a pneumatic impact wrench, and getting them loose with the hand tools the village had was difficult.

Gritting her teeth with effort, she pulled with all of her might on the wrench, grunting with the strain. Suddenly, the bolt loosened with an audible squeal. Unfortunately for Joy, the lack of resistance from the bolt meant that her hand smacked against the frame, her knuckles busting on the dirt encrusted steel. She cried out, su*king on her knuckle as she hopped around, trying not to cry from the pain.

“You OK?” Joy turned, and saw one of the village’s schoolchildren, a teenage boy named Jian, coming around from the other end of the truck. He had a screwdriver in hand, from his job of removing the tail lights. Since joining the village, Joy had helped teach the children English along with Longwei, and the children had taken to it much more than they had previously. Longwei thought that it was due to the fact that with a real, living reason to use the language, the children were more motivated.

Joy pulled her knuckle from her mouth, looking at the oozing blood. “No, I think I need a bandage. Where’s the first aid kit?”

When Jian tilted his head and smiled, shaking head that he didn’t understand, Joy tried again in Chinese. She was still horrible in the village’s dialect, but she tried her best. Perhaps it was the sight of the blood, or maybe she actually was getting better at village Chinese, but Jian nodded, and jogged off towards the doctor’s office. Joy followed behind, walking in the clear midsummer’s day. It was truly beautiful, and despite the pain Joy smiled at the quiet pleasantness. It wasn’t far to the doctor’s office, only about half a mile, but by the time she got there, the sting from her knuckles was lessening.

Entering the cool, shadowy office, Joy was warmed to see that Jian had already talked to the doctor, who waited for her. Patting Jian on the shoulder, she smiled and said thank you as best she could, before Jian jogged off again, back to his work. Joy watched him go before turning to the doctor. “Sorry, I didn’t think he was going to come all the way here. I just asked him for a first aid kit.”

Doctor Wong, whose English was passable if heavily accented, smiled. “We don’t have any besides normal household items. And this office is closer than your home.”

Joy chuckled at the idea of ‘her home.’ While she and Longwei had never publicly said so, it seemed the entire village knew that their living arrangement was not just ‘village elder and guest,’ but as lovers. She still maintained her own bedroom, and Longwei always treated her rooms as her own private space like an apartment, but they shared meals together, and at least half the time slept together in Longwei’s room. It was a new experience for her, being this close to someone.

“Well, thank you for treating me,” Joy said, holding out her hand. “The truck didn’t want to let go of its oil pump.”

Wong looked at Joy’s hand for a few seconds, before shaking his head. “I must clean this. Too much grease and dirt. This will hurt some.”

Getting up from his chair, Wong led her over to an exam table before going over to his supply cabinet. It was like no other doctor’s cabinet Joy had ever seen, filled with an odd collection of modern supplies, herbal remedies, and things she couldn’t even begin to put a name to. With the village being so isolated and not on friendly terms with either the Triads or the government, he had to make do with a lot of substitutions.

Wong turned around, holding a square of cloth and a bottle of clear liquid which made Joy cringe. One of the main substitutions Wong had to often use was a strong alcohol instead of normal topical antiseptics. Stronger than any vodka she had tried in the US, Wong’s alcohol was made of squeezings from cut bamboo and rice, which were fermented to eye watering strength.

Soaking a section of his cloth in the alcohol, Wong cleaned the skin surrounding Joy’s cut knuckle, his free hand holding her fingers still against the unstoppable twitch as the exposed nerves were assaulted by the stinging liquid. Squeezing her eyes shut against the pain, Joy kept her lips pursed as Wong tutted and fretted over the wound, wiping at it carefully with his cloth. Finally, he looked up. “You lucky,” he said with a smile. “Clean to the bone, but no other damage.”

“That’s lucky?” Joy asked incredulously. “And what is unlucky?”

“Tendon cut, bone broken, or nicked vein,” Wong replied. He patted her hand, and went back to his cabinet, returning with another square of clean cotton cloth. “Now, I give you some of the alcohol for keeping it clean. No drinking!” he said mock seriously, a twinkle in his eye. “Clean twice a day, and come to me if it gets red or pus. Change this bandage every day, keep it clean.”

“No stitches?” Joy asked, looking at her hand. With the dirt cleaned off and the blood wiped away, she thought she could see the faintest hint of white bone. Feeling just a bit nauseous, she turned her eyes away.