Dragon's Tears (City Dragons Book 3)

by Lisa Oliver

  “Who the hell is this? How the hell did he get into the castle? And what the hell was he thinking, forcing you to have sex with him when you haven’t even eaten yet? Doesn’t he know you’ve only just got back from being abducted? Fuck!” Dirk was pulling at his hair. “Is he the one?” Dirk advanced toward the bed, pointing at Ice who was still sprawled on the bed. “Is he the asshole who put you through all this trauma, just so he could claim you?”

  “Really? That’s what you think?” Byron tied the sash on his robe with a decisive half-bow and moved so he was between his brother and his mate. “This is my mate. The one I’ve been searching for. The man I saw ten years and four months ago. Use your nose. We haven’t had penetrative sex. My mate was being considerate. But do you think after all I’ve been through this past week, either me or my dragon was going to deny his claim?”

  “That’s what I mean.” Dirk was still glaring. “You’ve been through hell. How do you know he’s not responsible? Do you even know this guy’s name?”

  “Er…” Byron felt his cheeks redden. “He’s Petrov’s half-brother. He’s been away… traveling… which is why we haven’t met before.”

  “And instead of walking through the front door, introducing himself to you and your family, he snuck in here instead and bit you when you’re at your most vulnerable. For fuck’s sake, mother’s dragon only died within the last hour.”

  Dirk had a point, not that Byron would tell him that. “I’m a grown assed dragon. I needed a hug, something you were so busy getting downstairs from your mate, you didn’t even bother to order me food.”

  “I’m sorry about the food. The castle’s in an uproar. Jon’s soothing the staff now. They’re all worried about their jobs, now mother is gone. Our uncle’s on his way; he was in on mother’s plot too and within a week we’ll have another funeral to plan – possibly two. We still don’t know who took you,” Dirk’s glower suggested he still thought Byron’s mate could be responsible. “My mind is on all that, trying to get things done and taking care of the clan and next thing I know, my dragon’s making a song and dance in my head about you being claimed.”

  “Which I have been, and it’s done now, and do you know what? I’m quite capable of going down to the kitchen to get my own food, and some for my mate.” Byron pushed on Dirk’s chest, wanting him out of the room. “You go back and do what you’re doing. Don’t bother asking me for help, which you know I’ll give you. Don’t think for a second, I would support you against our uncle, even though I know I would. No, don’t go thinking anything like that at all. You just keep yelling at your stupid brother, totally forgetting the promise you made just a few days ago about listening to me. Get out!” He gave Dirk another shove. “Out!”

  The last thing Byron saw was Dirk’s slack jaw as he slammed the door in his brother’s face. “Damn older brothers think they know everything,” he muttered as he turned back to his mate who still hadn’t moved from the bed. “Hello, we probably should have done this before. My name is Byron Hollingsworth, something you probably know because of your brother. I am the second son of the late Mr. Hollingsworth, our previous clan leader, and now I’m the clan second, not that you’d think that from that little incident you’ve just witnessed. I must apologize for my brother, he’s not normally so rude, but he has had a trying day. Can I ask who I’m now mated to for eternity? Do you have a name I can call you?”

  At least his mate was smiling as he rolled off the bed, strutting towards him like a bad ass. “Byron, my sweet mate. I do love it when you stand up for yourself.”

  His mate took his hand, raising it to his lips. “My name is Ivak Sellivik, but most people call me Ice. I’m the bastard son of King Sellivik, leader of all ice dragons everywhere, although it’s not likely I’ll ever see the inside of the Sellivik palace located in the snows north of Moscow because my mother was a wolf shifter, used once and discarded. I have been shunned by clans the world over, because of my duel heritage, although it seems your dragon is happy to make me an honorary Hollingsworth. And while I adore roast meat of any description, my favorite food is beef stroganoff.”

  “Stroganoff?” Byron could still feel the heat of Ice’s lips on the back of his hand.

  “You did tell your brother we were going to the kitchens, yes?” Ice opened the door, Byron had only recently closed and then tucked Byron’s hand in the crook of his arm. “Maybe one of your chef’s know how to make it properly.”

  “Yes, of course.” Byron let himself be led out of the room. “Hang on.” He pulled back. “I need to put pants on first.”

  “You’re the second highest ranking Hollingsworth,” Ice said calmly, as he tugged Byron along again. “You can wear what you like in your family estate, and frankly, I think you look damn sexy in that robe.”

  “There’s spunk sticking to the inside of it,” Byron muttered through his teeth.

  “And mine is crusting in my pants.” Ice showed his pearly whites. “Let’s both be thankful it’s not dripping out of our asses. Which way to the kitchen?”

  “It’s three floors down.” Byron hesitated by the ornate elevator at the end of the hall. “Do you mind if we take the stairs?”

  Ice hesitated and then poked the call button on the wall, before resting his hand over Byron’s. “I do mind in this instance, so please humor me this one time. You got taken from the elevator in your brother’s building, yes?”

  The big doors slid open, the inside of the elevator plush with velvets, glass mirrors and thick carpets. Although the Hollingsworth elevator was miles away from the steel box Byron had been kidnapped from, his breath still quickened as Ice ushered him inside, pressing the button for the first floor.

  “The one thing I learned when I was bullied growing up,” Ice said almost conversationally as Byron felt the elevator jolt, “is to never let anything your enemies do change your normal behaviors. You usually take the elevator, so we will take the elevator. To do anything less would be to give your enemies power. If they can change one thing, they can ruin your life.”

  “They’re not likely to know whether I took the stairs or used this box.” Byron watched the light pass from four to three on the floor indicator. “My enemies all think I am still dying in that damn double coffin in the field.”

  “I doubt it.” Ice patted his hand, which Byron figured could be considered a comforting gesture if it wasn’t for the words coming out of his mate’s mouth. “They will know you’re long gone by now.”

  “How?” Byron looked around nervously expecting bad guys to suddenly come tumbling out of the walls.

  “Your being there was a trap for me. The boxes would have had some kind of sensors on it, alerting them to my arrival, otherwise, there’d be no point to the trap.”

  The jolt Byron felt as the elevator stopped had nothing on the one in his heart. Gripping Ice’s bicep, Byron turned him, so they were facing each other. “Who’s trying to hurt you? Do I need to alert the castle guards? Are people coming for you?”

  “Precious.” Ice stroked his cheek, his tone fond. “Don’t worry. I got told you were in rural France, which is where they would have expected me to go. The sensors on your box would have just been a precaution. It’ll be a while before they realize I’m not walking into their trap and it’ll take them even longer to organize another one. Let’s eat.”

  “But Petrov is still out there.” Byron tightened his grip as Ice made to leave the elevator. “What did you do with Petrov? Is he still back in that field?”

  “Petrov was running back into town in his shifted form when I flew after you. Can we please not worry about this now? You need to eat and sleep before we can make any further plans.”

  We, he said we. Byron walked with his mate to the kitchen, vowing not to let the enigmatic Ice out of his sight.

  /~/~/~/~/

  Ice couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t Byron’s gentle snoring that was keeping him awake, although sleeping next to anyone was a novelty Ice was still in two minds about. The bed was comf
ortable, Ice’s stomach was full, they’d both had separate showers and retired together for the night, and the castle was quiet for now, although danger was coming. Ice could feel it.

  But danger for who? The issue keeping Ice awake was the gentle hum in the back of his mind – not the ones from his animal spirits which he’d gotten used to – but from Byron. Byron was in his head which meant Ice could be picking up signals that danger was coming for his mate... or it could be the known danger coming for him. And not knowing where that danger was directed put Ice in a bit of a quandary.

  In theory, he needed to leave. That had always been Ice’s original plan, before his animal sides decided to swamp him with feelings that Ice had successfully suppressed for decades. But they had, and he was - swamped with feelings that is - which meant getting out of Byron’s bed wasn’t as easy as rolling over and slipping away under the cover of darkness. If Byron was the one in danger, then Ice couldn’t leave him.

  But I already know danger’s coming for me. Danger that had been a long time coming. Ice’s eyes narrowed in the dim light as he thought about Nikita’s betrayal. She had been his handler when he first started working as an assassin, having approached him in a seedy bar in London decades before. Once he started branching out into corporate takeovers, and business mergers, it made sense to use someone he trusted to handle appointments, correspondence and all the stuff that made Ice yawn. He was a dragon; he didn’t have time for paperwork.

  And he had been busy. Very busy. Every time he finished one job, Nikita sent him on another, flying all over Europe and the US – his only stipulation being he wouldn’t take any business in New York. Because of Byron. Who he was now permanently mated to. Which meant, if Byron was a lure before, the target on his back had just gotten bigger. If something happened to Byron, then Ice’s animal sides would pine away, and he would die; if he didn’t go around scorching half a town in his dragon’s rage and grief first and get shot down.

  Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t stay. No matter where he went, Byron was going to have to accompany him, at least until Nikita and her cronies had been taken care of. Ice fisted his hands, wanting to hit something, even if it was the mattress, but he didn’t want to wake his mate.

  Although… Ice looked over to see Byron’s pale green eyes fixed on him. “You’re thinking hard enough to wake the dead.” Byron’s voice was still full of sleep. “Care to share what’s keeping you awake so long?”

  Ice didn’t share anything, especially his thoughts. He’d learned long ago, that could get him killed. But, he reasoned with himself, if he told Byron his concerns, and Byron kicked him out… Then his decision would be made for him. “My wolf is capable of detecting the arrival of danger sometimes days before it arrives,” he said bluntly, refusing to dwell on how sexy his mate looked with his overgrown scruff and his sleep-filled eyes. It was all very distracting.

  “I’m not sure, now we’re mated, if the danger is to you or me – my wolf is very possessive. I have to go and take care of the person who used you as bait in a trap and gave me false information about a possible suspect I had. But if the danger is here…”

  Byron held up his hand. “The only possible danger here is my uncle who’ll arrive tomorrow and who might challenge Dirk for clan leadership. It could get messy – as clan second, he could send people after me too. My uncle isn’t known for harboring positive family feelings and close relationships. Taking out me and Dirk would only leave my younger brother Sammy as a direct descendent of the original Hollingsworth, and he’s an omega dragon so… I’m not saying it couldn’t happen because it might.”

  In Ice’s opinion, shit like that always happened. He knew, from his own tab-keeping on his father’s family, that he was the only direct heir the old bastard had left – court intrigue causing the untimely and sudden deaths of three half-brothers (but full dragons) he’d never met. If in doubt, wipe out the family line, was a common dragon tagline. Hmm… I wonder if the someone who hired Nikita came from that lot.

  A hand on his arm made him look down. “Hey,” Byron said quietly, “worrying never solved anything. All it does is double the suffering, isn’t that how the saying goes? It’s simple, what we do. We stay here, long enough to see my uncle off and ensure Dirk’s leadership of the clan stays intact, and then we go and face this other person, whoever they are, and find out why they thought it was funny to stick me in a box for you to find, all right?”

  We. We. We. Byron seemed overly fond of the word. Ice figured it might be something he’d have to get used to. “Agreed,” he said with a sigh, although the thought of letting Nikita or anyone she was associated with near his mate didn’t make his stomach feel any good.

  “You know,” Byron said, as his fingers wandered up Ice’s arm and across his chest. “For a mated pair, there’s been a surprising lack of intimacy in our relationship so far. I don’t believe we’ve even shared a kiss and we’ve been mated for hours.”

  A kiss? Gods, this mating business is just one demand after another. But Ice’s mental commentary was habitual, and he didn’t complain as Byron got closer, even when the man went so far as to drape himself over Ice’s chest. “You’re probably one of those hard men who never kisses anyone because it reeks of intimacy,” Byron murmured apparently fascinated by something only he could see on Ice’s chest.

  But then the head came up and Ice was struck by the sheer brilliance in Byron’s iced-emerald eyes. “And if that is the case, then it’s tough, mate, because I am quite a fan of locking lips myself, although I haven’t done it in a very long time, so my technique might be rusty.”

  Just try it. We’ll see. And it seemed maybe Byron had a spot of mind reading talent because his face came closer and Ice closed his eyes as warm breath ghosted across his lips. “Such a hard man, to have such full lips,” Byron whispered as their lips met.

  It wasn’t fireworks, it was an inferno. A ball of fire that warmed Ice’s cold heart and exploded through his body. His hands moved automatically, clutching Byron’s torso closer, every inch of his skin sizzling where it was covered with Byron’s own. Sliding his hands down his mate’s muscled back, Ice pushed under the waist band of the sleep pants Byron was wearing, his fingers curling as he gripped and kneaded the still covered flesh.

  He needed friction, or rather, his cock needed friction. It was like a heat seeking missile bobbing around in his own sleep pants, looking for a warm, lubed hole to bury itself in. But Ice was getting kissed and it was surprisingly good, so he didn’t want to… “Lube,” Ice rasped, tilting his head so he could take a breath at the same time. “Tell me this place has lube.”

  Byron chuckled as he reached across the bed towards the cabinet. “If it’s not in my bedside cabinet, someone will be fired in the morning.” Fumbling about, he must have found what he was looking for because seconds later, a familiar tube came into Ice’s view. “You know, I haven’t bottomed since I was a teenager,” he said, his eyes challenging Ice in some way.

  “I’ve never bottomed,” Ice managed between gritted teeth, because Byron’s fumbling had caused his hips to be draping over Ice’s hips, and yep, his cock was ready to party.

  Byron shrugged, his grin accentuated by puffy lips. “Guess I have to go first then, but I sure hope you know what you’re doing down there.”

  “I’ll manage.” Moving so fast, Byron didn’t have a hope of seeing him do it, Ice had Byron splayed on his stomach on the bed, while he knelt between his mate’s open legs. “Butt up,” he instructed, reaching for a pillow. This man should always wear a butt plug, he thought as he put lube on his fingers.

  Ice was familiar with men’s backs. He’d seen enough of them in his years of casual fucking and fighting. But Byron’s was in a class of its own – long, sleek muscles, dotted with the occasional tattoo. There wasn’t enough light for even Ice’s enhanced senses to make out what they were, but the fact his mate wore them with pride and the way they accentuated the ripple of muscles that fle
xed as Byron clenched his fists on the mattress was a thing of beauty Ice could and did appreciate.

  Stroking over Byron’s flank with his left hand, Ice pushed between tight butt cheeks with his right hand, letting his fingers rub over intimate muscles, so small in comparison to the rest of his man. Rubbing in a small circular motion, Ice breathed out, trying to calm his heartbeat so he could focus. No need to rush. Shit, where did that thought come from? Ice was always in a rush when fucking was involved. But this wasn’t just fucking…

  Ice took the prep side of things slow. He figured it was the least he could do for a man he now called ‘mate’. He pressed when he needed to, held his fingers still at other times, using his senses to gauge when Byron was ready for more. It was an art – anal prep – and one Ice was used to, but this time comfort was his goal, not speed. He even kept up the stroking over Byron’s back – enjoying the feel of the man’s skin flexing and moving under his touch.

  But his cock would not be ignored, and as soon as Ice deemed his mate ready, he said as such.

  “I was ready five minutes ago, you teasing ass,” Byron grumbled, having made his head and shoulders comfortable on the covers. “My cock thinks it’s done something to offend you, the amount of time you’ve spent hovering over my butt.”

  Ice kept his smirk to himself. Byron’s feisty side was something he hadn’t considered a possibility when he’d seen the man five years before. “I’d hardly want our first time to be marred with unpleasantness, my mate,” he said as he gripped the base of his cock and held his length steady as he smeared it with lube. “Let your breath go and push out.”

  The blunt head of his dick had found the opening, small as it was, and yes Ice was referring to the destination, not his dick. Ice kept his hold as he watched himself being slowly, oh so slowly, taken in. Byron was already panting with the stretch and Ice wondered what the burn would feel like. Was it like a knife idly making shallow cuts across naked skin, or was it more of the itch one got when sunburned? I guess I’ll know soon enough.