Dragon Mated: Sexy Urban Fantasy Romance (Prince of the Other Worlds Book 4)

by Kara Lockharte

  “Sorry,” Andi apologized to the driver who’d let her aboard. “Long night,” she said.

  Damian’s entire world stopped at seeing his mate again, in all her ever-so-human glory. Her long dark hair swirled around her shoulders, the way the cold outside had pinked her cheeks, her perfect, full, bitable lips, the gentle sound of her warm voice, and then she turned, and saw him.

  The driver handed her her card back. “Take a seat,” he said, as she let her bus card fall to the floor.

  He watched her swallow and then she disappeared from view for a second, picking her card up as the bus lurched forward. Then she returned to view and slowly walked down the aisle toward him. He could see the necklace he’d given her, its gemstone nestled against her throat.

  Yes, his dragon whispered, slowly uncoiling.

  “Is anyone sitting here?” she asked him. Her cheeks were flushed by more than cold now. He could almost feel the reaction she was having to him, like flashes of heat lightning, all over her body.

  “It’s a free country,” he told her, just as she’d once told him, and she sat down beside him without a smile.

  Damian closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. Jamison hadn’t said anything in his ear about him being in danger. He’d just been periodically reporting whether or not Damian was safe, but he hadn’t tracked all the hunters on those buses last night now, had he? So Damian knew someone might still be watching, which meant he couldn’t give anything away in public. He pulled his phone out of a pocket and texted her.

  I have to see you.

  More than this.

  Name someplace safe.

  He heard her phone buzz in her bag, but she didn’t reach for it, she just kept staring resolutely ahead.

  Was she mad at him? It was clear from her text he’d finally scared her—only not in any way he’d ever wanted. She twisted beside him, her shoulder brushing his, his knee knocking hers, and she pulled her big bag over from the aisle onto her lap, where it overlapped onto his. Another turn, another stop, and she pushed her hand beneath it, using it to cover where she touched him. He felt the outline of her hand against his thigh, timid almost, and when had Andi ever been timid in her life?

  Was she going to shove him away or pull him near?

  Then her fingers clawed into his denim as she made a slow, deliberate, fist. Grabbing him to her. Taking what was hers. The sensation rippled through his entire body, amplifying desires he’d barely tamed in her absence. His dragon surged forward, matching him, as he felt his cock thump against the restraint of his jeans. He saw the pulse at her throat jump out of the corner of his eye as he heard her breath catch.

  Her fisted hand quivered against his thigh and he took a risk, seeking it with his own beneath the cover of the bag, settling his hand atop it. Her fingers slowly splayed, sending more ricochets through him, as he wound his own fingers between them, to finally hold her hand tight, elated as he felt hers hold him in return.

  She was his.

  It didn’t matter how much time had passed, nothing had changed. He would be hers from now until he met his grave, and every moment in between would be worthwhile as long as she held onto him.

  She let go at the next stop, got off without looking back, and it didn’t matter. He held the memory of her hand against his like a treasure map, knowing it would lead to something more.

  Andi stood just outside the bus stop and her knees were shaking. It was like all of the blood in her body had fallen to the ground.

  No, that wasn’t true…it was just that none of it was in her brain. Her body had borrowed all of it. It was everywhere she wanted Damian. She could imagine his hot handprints all over her, and as she made her way to her front stairs, she pulled out her phone.

  I have to see you.

  More than this.

  Name someplace safe.

  Her heart thrilled, and then she opened up her front door to find Eumie, still dozing on her couch. Hiding out at her place because the hunters had attacked them.

  “That you, Andi?” Eumie whispered, opening up an eye.

  “Yeah,” Andi whispered, knowing Sammy was still asleep. She made her way over to Eumie’s side. “How are you?”

  “So much better, you wouldn’t believe.” They sat up. “Want to help me go downstairs?”

  “You’re not opening up the bakery, Eumie.”

  “No, but I need to go. It’s important.”

  Andi frowned. “You can stay here as long as you like. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, but I have things I need to do.”

  “Who’s Orthrus?” Andi asked.

  Eumie inhaled. “I would say it’s too complicated to explain, but I heard you talking to Xochitl—it’s clear you have some history—and then I heard your story with your dragon and Sammy, besides. Plus, you got me cao wu. So, let’s just say Orthrus’s descendants are relatives of mine. And on the off chance Xochitl wasn’t taunting me, I need to go make sure they’re all right.”

  “But they’re after you, Eumie. How’re you going to stay safe?”

  “I’ve been alive for a very long time.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Andi said.

  Eumie heaved a sigh and got up. Sammy had given them some sweatpants before going to bed. “Andi. I’ve been hunted before, and I’ll be hunted again. No one knows the danger more than me. I’ve lost almost all of my children to hunters over the length of my long life. Which is one of the reasons why I need to go, now. Help me get downstairs?”

  Andi couldn’t stop frowning, but she let the baker put an arm across her shoulders, and they made their way outside together.

  Eumie paused in front of their shop to hunt for a certain rock among the landscaping and popped a latch on its back. It was plastic, and there was a key inside. They used it to open the front door up. Inside the bakery, everything was like Andi’d last seen it, weeks ago, only the Nemean Lion seemed particularly angry this morning in its fight against Hercules—or maybe Andi was just projecting. Eumie walked into the back, and Andi followed them, unwilling to let them out of her sight.

  Eumie grabbed a bag and filled it full of baked goods, proffering it over to Andi, and Andi took it like the bribe she knew it was. She looked between Eumie and the mural behind her. “How long have you been alive again?”

  Eumie gave her a soft smile and answered, “Very,” before turning on their heels and walking down a short hall, to turn into a tiny room that Andi’d never seen before. It had a twin bed and a small TV, and it was clear that this was where Eumie’d been living all along. The girls had never pressed to visit. Usually, Eumie just came up the stairs with day old pastries, or all three of them went out.

  It would have been a depressing space except that one wall of the room was stunning. It had been mosaicked from floor to ceiling and showed a pastoral scene of a time that didn’t exist anymore. A warm sun hung over rolling hills which had distant caves, and in the foreground, there were shepherds and sheep and trees. Satyrs chased nymphs, and nymphs chased back. One of the shepherds was playing a pipe, and Andi could almost imagine she heard it playing, as Eumie furiously packed a bag.

  She realized if everything she thought about Eumie was right—and Eumie hadn’t denied it when Xochitl had called them Echnida—then Eumie’d been alive longer than her mother and uncle combined. They’d seen civilizations rise and civilizations fall, and surely everyone they’d ever gotten attached to had left or, worse yet, died. Andi was hit by a profound sense of sorrow on their behalf. “How do you do it?” she asked.

  Eumie’s head tilted. “Do what?”

  “Move through life still. Even when you know you’re going to get hurt.”

  Eumie set their bag down on their bed and came closer to take Andi’s chin in their hands and stare straight into her eyes. “The only reason I’m still alive is because I can get hurt. If you stop getting hurt, you stop feeling, and then there’s no point in any of this, honestly. If I stopped caring, if I stopped trying to involve myself in life
, if I stopped looking for people to love and who might love me, then I might as well have been buried in the back of some cave, millennia ago. People who don’t care don’t make differences, Andi.”

  Andi knew it was true as Eumie said it. “But what if caring breaks you?”

  “It might,” Eumie acknowledged, letting her go to finish packing. “It most likely does. But when that happens, if you can keep risking it, caring will eventually give you a reason to live and put you right back together again. You’re strong enough to keep caring, Andi. I know it.” They zipped their bag, smiled at Andi, and then offered her the spare key. “I have to go.”

  “Wait…what? For how long?”

  “I’m not sure, so until then, the place is yours. I’ve paid my lease through the end of the year.”

  Andi started shaking her head madly. “I don’t want it—”

  “I’m not asking, Andi, I’m telling. Take it. I’m not expecting you to work here. Just put up the closed sign, toss out the perishables, and make sure no one breaks in for a few months.” Eumie set the key down on their bed.

  “But,” Andi began protesting, as Eumie waved their hand over the mosaic. The sheep on the hills lowered their heads to graze, the trees at the edges swayed with an unfelt breeze, and she thought she heard the squeal of a nymph. She was definitely sure she could hear the pipes playing now.

  “See?” the baker said, gesturing to the wall. “My very own escape hatch. I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

  Andi blinked at the wall, which now seemed much more like a window. She’d gone through mirrors with Damian. Was this the same?

  Eumie leaned over and gave her a strong hug. “I’ll be all right, I swear, and what’s more, I know you’ll be all right, too.”

  “How do you know?” Andi pleaded. All she wanted was one one-hundredth of Eumie’s certainty.

  “Because I know you.” Eumie gave her another hard squeeze. “And I love you. And tell Sammy I love her too. There’s a safe behind the flour bags in the back…the combination’s this address. Get her car cleaned for her, would you? I know I left it a mess last night, and I know she very much cares.”

  “I will.” Andi’s voice broke, even though she was trying not to cry.

  “I have a feeling I’ll see you again, Andi,” Eumie promised her. “And my feelings are rarely wrong.”

  Andi sniffed back tears and smiled. “Don’t tell me it’s destiny, or I’ll punch you, I don’t care how old you are.”

  Eumie laughed. “No. Not destiny. Just a hunch. But I think there was a reason we met. The gods put us in one another’s paths.”

  “Old timey gods that I don’t believe in?”

  “You don’t have to believe in them, as long as they believe in you.” They grinned. “Now back away.”

  Andi did as she was told. “You’d better call me if you ever get hurt.”

  Eumie placed a sincere palm across their heart. “I swear,” they said…and then stepped into the wall. Andi could’ve sworn she saw them in the scene in front of her for a second, before the image went still as the stone it was created out of again and Eumie disappeared.

  Andi waited for a long moment, just staring. Eumie was gone. What a night she’d had last night, and then, what a morning. She contemplated just flopping down on top of Eumie’s bed and going to sleep right there.

  And then she remembered her phone—and Damian.

  Andi knew there weren’t any cameras behind her building, which was why people kept doing illegal dumping there, and Damian was alive. She needed to see him. Even if it hurt her or him or caused the end of the world. Eumie was right; she cared too much not to risk it. She went back into the kitchen, picked up the key and locked the front door, before opening up the back one and texting him the bakery’s address.

  “You’re still clear, although this doesn’t seem wise,” Jamison said in his earpiece, as Damian walked to the alley behind Andi’s place. Every five minutes since Damian had left, Jamison had contacted him on their one-way connection, letting him know he was still safe—although he hadn’t offered additional commentary until now.

  Damian knew Jamison was right, after seeing Andi this morning, it didn’t matter. He had no problem risking his life to see her. Not seeing her now seemed far more likely to get him killed.

  And so he stood in the grungy alleyway behind the bakery beneath Andi’s apartment, steeled himself, and knocked. The door opened, and Andi was standing just inside, waiting for him, just like in all his dreams.

  He took a step in at once and slammed the door behind himself as she threw herself into his arms. He caught her and spun her, pressing her against the door where he could kiss her hard, tasting her again at long last, inhaling her scent, feeling the heat of her against him. The moment almost made him dizzy, and it felt like he was high, as everything he’d been denied for so long was once again inside his grasp. He wanted to hold her inside wings, with hands, with claws, and never let her go.

  He pulled back to stare into her eyes. “Do I taste alive?” he growled.

  “Yes,” she whispered, almost pleading. Her arms were around his neck and her whole body was pressed against his, trying to apologize for so much lost time.

  He moved them away from the door and navigated her backward into the bakery’s kitchen. “Clothes. Off. Now.” She nodded helplessly, so eager to obey, and kicked off the silly shoes that made her taller, then started stripping off her coat and scrubs. “Leave the knee-highs on,” he said, when she was down to just her underthings.

  Andi laughed as she took off her bra, and it was the most melodious sound he’d ever heard. “They’re compression socks.”

  He grinned at her. “I say they’re knee-highs.”

  “Perv.” She beamed a taunting smile back, and it was like the fucking sun had finally found him. All the nights apart from her, all the ice around his heart, began to melt away.

  “I remember what you like,” he said with a current of threat, taking a step forward, closer to her light. “Turn around,” he commanded, and she did so without question, finding herself at hip height with the countertop behind her. He leaned in, intent on her. “Time apart has made you obedient.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” she said, as she intentionally wriggled her ass against him. Heat slammed through his cock and balls, and he wanted nothing more than to take her—hard. But just because they were finally together didn’t mean that he could take what he wanted now.

  Are you sure? his dragon asked him.

  “Touch the wall,” he commanded. She looked up at him with a full pout.

  “I’d rather touch you.”

  “You will. But for now, behave,” he threatened, grabbing one of her ass cheeks.

  She squeaked and stretched out—it was a wide counter, her fingertips barely touched—and for a moment he surveyed her beneath him like she was his domain. He ran his hands up and down her sides, watched gooseflesh prickle on her body—from the cold counter on her pert nipples, no doubt—and leaned over her to breathe her in, whispering low at the nape of her neck. “Have you been a good princess while you’ve been gone?”

  She chuckled throatily beneath him. “Why do you ask, dragon?”

  “Because bad princesses get punished,” he said, drawing a languid hand up her outer thigh. “But good princesses get what they deserve,” he said, setting his teeth against her shoulder.

  He felt her shiver beneath his touch. “Which do you think I am?” she asked.

  Damian rose up, looking down, and caught her twisting her head to stare defiantly up at him. Here she was, in a position of pure submission, her little socked feet kicking to find purchase beside his as his hips pressed her thighs wide, and she was still utterly, inexorably, herself. He wound her hair around his hand like a rope, pulling her head back. “Both,” he told her, and started kissing down her spine.

  She made small, soft sounds and writhed delightfully against him as he let her hair unspool, gliding through his fingers like si
lk. His mouth moved his body lower and down, until he was almost behind her, and then he knelt on his knees on the bakery’s checkerboard linoleum tile. It made sense that they were here—Andi was the perfect snack. He grabbed where her thighs met her ass, rocked her up and apart, and leaned in to kiss her.

  There was no preamble, nothing slow nor subtle as he tasted her like she was Eve’s apple, and he wanted to take a bite. His lips parted to drink her in, and his tongue pushed against her as she unfurled, and then ran up her to rub her clit with its broad tip until she moaned.

  “Oh, Damian,” she whispered. Her feet had stopped kicking now. She was on tiptoe, trying to stay still for him and give her whole self over. He lapped at her with his tongue, sucked on her with his lips, and worked her with his nose and chin, reaching between her legs to pull her wide with both his thumbs, kissing the dark pink space within as she kept sighing his name.

  He waited until her breath sped up and her body twitched in preparation, then pulled back to survey what he had done. She was as wet as he had ever gotten her before. Everything about her was quivering and ready, slick and hot, and he brought his fingers up to finish her off where he could see, rolling her clit between his fingers until she whined and gave it up, her whole body thrashing, her pussy pulsing, watching her ache for him as he had spent so many previous nights aching for her.

  She finished coming with a gasp and tried to press herself up. He knew because her feet lowered. “Are you done punishing me?”

  “Not hardly,” he said, standing. “Turn over.”

  “Here?” she asked, even as she did it, bringing her heels up to the level of the countertop for support, and he wrapped a hand around both her thighs, following the angry red line the edge had just cut into them.

  He pushed his fingers into her because he couldn’t help himself. The temptation was too great, and he felt her hips buck against him. Her hair was tousled on the counter behind her like a dark cloud, and he leaned in between her knees. His mate was perfect in every way. He knew she was his destiny, and he only had to say it—