Fire Breathing Blaise (Dragons of the Bayou Book 3)

by Candace Ayers

  “Finally. You were becoming a lunatic. And Cezar says that Blaise is a mess without you.”

  Strange how that perked my ears right up. “What?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s been drinking gallons of Armand’s brew. When he isn’t watching over you, of course.” She let out a little gasp. “I did not say that.”

  I froze, my hand on the rope, ready to untie the dock line. “I’m gonna need you to repeat that.”

  “Oh, what the hell. You’re headed to his place, so I guess you were bound to find out anyway. Besides, he deserves credit for what he’s been doing. We were all worried about you. None of us more than Blaise, though. You know, after he found you in that fire and rescued you, he never left your side, not for a second. He cleaned all the mud off you, inspected you for injuries, bandaged your foot, tucked you in bed…”

  “Cherry!” She jumped when I screamed, and her hands flew in the air.

  “Okay...well, he still hasn’t left. He’s been watching over your house…and you. He wanted to make sure you were safe, despite you rejecting him.”

  “I didn’t…” I was about to deny that I had rejected him but, technically, that is what it amounted to. I had rejected him. Admitting it left a bad taste in my mouth, for some reason. A shame that weighed heavily on me. “So, he’s just been watching my house?”

  “Not in a creepy way.” Cherry was fast to defend Blaise.

  She didn’t need to, though. The revelation did little to calm my already raging hormones. I felt like I was in heat, my skin almost as sensitive as it had been after the fire. I was desperate.

  “Chyna?”

  “Call you later.”

  I tossed my phone in my bag and pushed the boat off the dock, starting the engine as I drifted away from land. I sped toward the bay that fed off the mainland and would get me to Blaise’s faster. I was feelin’ reckless. The closer I got to his house, the more the heaviness on my chest seemed to lift and lighten. For the first time in over a week, I could breathe easy.

  Reminding myself that it wasn’t permanent didn’t faze me. I couldn’t think past the here and now. I was going to see Blaise and talk. Talk…

  I tied my boat off at his dock and rushed up to his door. There was a mess on his patio, chairs knocked over, broken glass, and it looked like new damage to a wall.

  I raised my hand to knock, but before my fist made contact with the door, I felt someone behind me. Turning, I watched as the great crimson dragon landed and shifted back to his human form. Blaise, all his male nakedness before me, sent jolts of heat through me as though someone had hooked a power cord to my body. I buzzed with energy and excitement.

  Blaise walked swiftly toward me, his strides eating up the ground between us. He was already hard and, at that moment, neither of us pretended that I’d come for anything else. Raw desire radiated from both of us. When he got close enough, I launched myself into his arms, and he caught me in midair, holding me tight as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  My lips found his, and for the first time in days, all was right with the world. He and I together in a lover’s embrace—it was as though nothing else mattered. Before I knew it, I was naked and Blaise was inside of me, moving hard and fast. We both climaxed fast standing on his patio, amidst the mess. The experience was rough and needy, a far cry from the first time we’d been together. It was just what the doctor ordered, though.

  I felt like I could think again. On top of Blaise, his shaft still hard inside of me, I felt like myself again. His scent filled my nostrils, and I had the thought that I could stay there forever. Forever, spent in the embrace of a man I barely knew. A man with a father so cruel and tyrannical he’d been dubbed the Demon King. A man who Cezar had said began his short reign the same way his father had. Minus the cruelty, but with the same oppressiveness.

  Blaise growled. “I can feel you thinking. I don’t hear your thoughts, but I can sense they are not good. Please stop. Stay.”

  I wanted to. I couldn’t, though. Without the blindingly needy libido, I could process what I was doing in a more sane and rational way. I was leading Blaise on, making him think that I’d changed my mind about his mate thingy. “I gotta go.”

  He rolled his head back, looking at the sky and groaned. “Chyna…”

  I slipped off him, disengaging and disappointing. “I’m sorry I came back here, Blaise. I shouldn’t have.”

  “Why did you?”

  Staring up at him, I shuddered. Apparently, my neediness had not been completely sated. Sure, the quickie had taken the edge off, but I still desired him. Badly. “You know why.”

  “So, we can have sex but not have a relationship?”

  “Would that be okay?” I wanted to slap myself as soon as the words were out of my mouth. “Forget I said that.”

  “You do not want to be my mate, or spend time to get to know me, but you want to have sex with me?” He sat in one of the lawn chairs, his rippled abs tightening as he did. He also didn’t bother covering his naked sex. Instead, he stared at me like I was a puzzle to solve. After a few uncomfortable seconds, he scratched his head and shrugged. “Fine.”

  A part of me cheered. The idea of getting to have no-strings sex with Blaise was beyond thrilling. Another, probably larger, part of me felt self-sabotaging. I ignored that last part, though. “Just sex? No relationship commitments, no chance of being controlled or manipulated?”

  Blaise looked out at the water beyond his yard and rested his elbows on his knees. “It must be this way, right?”

  If I’d been a better person, I would’ve acted like I hadn’t said anything. Hearing the disappointment in his voice, I wanted to take it all back and end things for good. I knew that wouldn’t last for long, though. It had been hell staying away from him for the week. Any self-control I’d ever had was a joke when it came to Blaise. “It’s just all I have to offer right now.”

  “My door is always open for you.” With a final frown at me, Blaise stood, dusted his bare ass off, and walked into his house, giving me a beautiful view of his tight derrière and stiff back.

  I knew he wasn’t happy with me. His feelings were clearly transmitted: frustration, disappointment, and hurt. But, if I blocked them, I could almost convince myself that I was doing the right thing. Didn’t men want uncomplicated sex? Wasn’t that a dream come true for guys?

  Heading back to my boat, I forced myself to ignore what Cherry had called the mate pull. Like a mantra, I repeated, just keep moving.

  18

  Blaise

  “Lucinda Taylor.”

  “Here.”

  “Blaise Dragon.”

  “Here.”

  “Wonderful. We’re all present and accounted for. Welcome to Simple to Fix Foods 101. For those of you who are new to Lafourche Community Center, welcome. I am your instructor, Mrs. Fontenot.” Mrs. Fontenot was a round-faced, blue-haired older female. She seemed pleasant enough with apple cheeks and a wide smile.

  With Cherry’s help, I had decided to take a class to learn to cook. I was hoping it would help prove to Chyna my worthiness as a mate. There were five other students enrolled besides myself.

  “Since all of you have signed the safety procedures forms, let’s all make our way over to the hot plates and cooking supplies set up.” Mrs. Fontenot gestured to the back of the room.

  “I want to be next to the bodybuilder.” As I noticed the slender, blonde female who had spoken, she winked. I looked over my shoulder to see if she was talking to someone behind me, but when I saw no one was there, I realized she must have been talking to me. I ignored her.

  After spending about five minutes explaining the procedures and instructions for making pancakes, the blue-haired Mrs. Fontenot told us to begin. I was feeling confident. No more runny eggs and burnt toast for my mate. I would make her the most delicious breakfast ever, if only I could convince her to stay until morning.

  “So, big guy, what brings you to cooking class?” It was the slender blonde, and she was leaning a littl
e too close to me.

  “I am learning to cook for my ma—my girlfriend.”

  She clucked her tongue and pouted. “Darn. All of the good ones are taken.”

  The male next to me elbowed me and whispered loudly. “Dude, I’m single. Trade places with me.” I was more than happy to comply. And as soon as I did, he began a running dialogue aimed at the blonde.

  “So, my name is Jorge. I work in retail. I take these classes once in a while as a way to meet new and interesting people. I have to say, you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met in a long time. Do you live around here?”

  I winced. It would seem Jorge was not very smooth with the females. I concentrated on mixing my ingredients. I poured some oil into the pan and waited for it to heat. This was not so difficult. It now seemed silly that I had never attempted to cook before. For over eighty years, I had been eating prepared food and takeout. I was eager to surprise my mate with a delicious meal.

  As I poured my batter into the hot pan, I kept one eye on Jorge. He seemed to know what he was doing, and I suspected it wasn’t his first time taking a cooking class. If Jorge could make a pancake, I could.

  I watched as Jorge held the pan up off the hot plate. “Watch this.” He flicked his wrist so that, amazingly, the pancake flew up, flipped in midair, and came back down in the pan.

  “Wow. That was awesome.” The blonde’s eyes widened. Hmm, Jorge’s trick impressed the female. I could do that.

  If a puny human like Jorge could flip a pancake, I could. I was smart about it, too. Using my spatula, I made sure my pancake was loosened around the edges, then, with a flick of the wrist, I flipped the pancake into the air. I did a wonderful job. I flipped mine twice as high as Jorge had. I grinned with pride. I liked cooking.

  I even received a chorus of oohs and aahs from the other students. Murmurs of awe and admiration. Or so I thought. Until I realized that my pancake did not return to its pan. I looked around for it only to find Ms. Fontenot standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, jaw hanging open, and pancake batter dripping down her forehead. She was wearing my pancake like a hat.

  Just as the gravity of the situation kicked in, I smelled something burning. I froze. I wasn’t sure what I should do in the situation. Should I clean her. Yes, I should probably remove my pancake from her blue-gray hair. As I leaned over, the burning smell was stronger this time. Someone was seriously scorching their pancake. Only when the smoke curls wafted in front of my eyes did I notice that somebody was me. My apron was on fire.

  It was not the end of the world. I could put out a fire, and I would heal within minutes from any burns incurred. I patted the growing flames, effectively extinguishing them. All would have been well if the small fire had not triggered the sprinkler system.

  There were screams and shouts as the sprinklers ruined all the pancakes and drenched my classmates. Ms. Fontenot, dripping wet and wiping soggy pancake from her face, just glared at me as she pointed to the door.

  I was later than I meant to be. After I was expelled from cooking class, I’d spent a little while flying around, trying to calm myself. Chyna was waiting for me. I could feel her. She’d visited every other night for the first week, then every night for the past week. She never stayed. She never let me fly her home. She never knew that I flew above her every night, watching over her. Ensuring she made it safely home.

  She could just let herself in, but I knew she wouldn’t. It was somehow crossing one of her boundaries in this game we were playing.

  The darkness I’d been carrying around lifted slightly when I got closer to my home. I could scent that Chyna was there. Brownies and vanilla cream icing. Seeing her in the evenings was the part of the day that I lived for.

  I wanted more than what Chyna was giving me, but I did not know how to get it. She was like an impenetrable wall. No matter how much I huffed or puffed or demanded, she wasn’t budging. No sleepovers. No feelings. No cuddling. Just sex. If I held her too long, she pulled away like I was a dirty mop against her skin.

  I did not understand. My dragon did not understand. Yet, there I was. Surrendering completely to playing by Chyna’s rules for a mere taste of her every day. Maybe, it wouldn’t have been so frustrating if it felt like she appreciated me at all.

  I landed and shifted. Instead of heading up to Chyna naked like I normally would, I let myself in the side of the house and pulled on a pair of jeans before going out and sitting across from her in what was left of the patio chairs. I’d need to eventually replace the ones Remy and I had broken. Actually, looking around, I noticed for the first time how dirty the place was. I’d tried cooking, and that had not worked well. Perhaps if I could learn to clean…

  Sitting next to Chyna without touching her was painful, but I was feeling bitter. It had been a terrible day. I did not look at her.

  “Where were you?” Her usually husky voice was quiet. “You’re usually here when I get here.”

  “Just out.” I sighed. “How was your day?”

  “Were you with someone else? You smell like perfume.”

  The anger in her voice soothed me, and I finally looked up at her. She was just as stunning as always; her thick, black, curly hair hung loosely over her shoulder. There was anger in her eyes, but also hurt. That didn’t soothe any part of me, even the hurt parts of my own.

  “I was in town.”

  She slumped in her chair and looked out over the water. “Sounds like fun.”

  “You could come along. We could go together sometime.”

  “Blaise…”

  I stood up and marched toward the house. “Yes, I know. Sex only. Well. Come on. I’d hate to have to force you to talk to me.”

  Chyna followed me. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “You know what my problem is.”

  “Fine. You want to talk? Let’s talk.” She stepped over a pile of ripped clothing I needed to toss. “I’m not in a great mood. I don’t know why I even came here.”

  “Because we are mates, and no matter how much you fight it, we need each other.”

  “You’re breaking the rules, Blaise.”

  “And you’re making all the rules.” I scrubbed my hands down my face and stopped overthinking everything for a moment. Going with my gut, I thought about what I wanted to know. “Why was your day shitty?”

  “I found out about my neighbor.”

  I sank into my couch and sighed, expecting her to be disappointed with me for that, too. “Yeah?”

  “I can’t believe he was responsible for the gasoline. I should press charges. If he had that big of a problem with my little shed on the back of his multiple acres of land, all he had to do was tell me to move it. He didn’t have to try to burn it down.”

  I growled. “He almost killed you.”

  “I got the impression that you made him really regret that. More than he already did.” She gave me a rueful smile. “What happened?”

  “I followed the scent of the accelerants to his house, and we had a long talk about what he’d done. He lived only because he hadn’t meant to hurt you.”

  “Blaise!”

  I shrugged. “What? It is the truth. Do you wish me to lie? If his intention had been to harm you in any way, I would have killed him.”

  “Probably not something you should say too loudly.”

  “Why? Do you think your puny jails could hold a dragon who did not want to be caged?” I flexed my muscles. “No chance.”

  Her face closed off. “There’s something else.”

  “Did he try anything?” I sat forward, ready for her to give me the word. I’d be at her neighbor’s shitty little house in minutes.

  “No, no. It’s…I got a job offer. In Florida. I’ll be gone for a couple of months.”

  19

  Chyna

  If I expected Blaise to explode, I was thoroughly let down. He held my gaze for a minute and then stood up. Walking across to his kitchen, he grabbed a flask from the fridge and nodded to himself.
<
br />   “Well?”

  He laughed, but there was nothing he found funny, I knew. “Well?”

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “What would you like me to say, Chyna?” He sat back down on the couch and took a long drag from the flask. It was Armand’s brew, the only thing that seemed to inebriate the dragons.

  What did I want him to say? Everything. I wanted him to fight with me, fight for me. I knew it made zero sense. The rules we were sticking to were mine, after all. I’d pushed him away and made him keep his distance, except to make love to me—have sex with me—whatever. The past two weeks had done nothing to make leaving his side easier. Blaise wasn’t just an itch that needed scratching. I felt like he was more of a permanent situation that I had to figure out.

  Whatever the case, I wanted him to fight. Things had been docile for weeks. We’d had little snippets of irritations, but I’d kept him so far away that there wasn’t much to fight about in the little time we spent together. That night, though, I was feeling volatile. I wanted to see him get angry. I wanted to push him into showing emotion.

  Something about showing up to his house and him not being there had set me off. Then, the scent of perfume on him made me irate in a way that I couldn’t even begin to explain to myself.

  “I’m glad I’m leaving. We both need some space.”

  Blaise’s hands turned into fists, but his face remained calm. “If you are expecting me to be happy that you’re leaving, you will be disappointed.”

  “You’ll have more time on your hands. Maybe you could hire a real maid.”

  “I will be okay without it.”

  “Oh, yeah? Find another mate who’s willing to clean up after you?” As I said it, I was embarrassed by how nasty and petty I sounded. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. It was like I’d become a different person since meeting Blaise in that bar. I was irritable and snarky more than anything, and I’d managed to run all my friends off. At least for the time being. I knew they’d come back when I was back to being myself, but I wasn’t even sure I wanted them to come back. That was how not myself I felt.