“You’re a dangerous woman, Lydia McKinney,” he told her as she licked a line of heat up his right thigh. She continued to grin at him as he began to swell with arousal.
“Dangerous?” she echoed in a derisive tone. “I’m more than dangerous. You’re full on playing with fire, babe.”
Before they got back into a physically intimate relationship, Dan really did want to explain to Lydia that he knew exactly what she meant with the little quip she’d just given him. He knew she was a Dragon. Words and will failed him as Lydia slipped her mouth over him and took him to the base.
She made it seem effortless as she rolled his sac around in one hand and worked his shaft with her mouth. Dragging her teeth over the sensitive skin, Lydia worked him until, mindless with unbridled lust, he was thrusting up to meet her downward strokes.
Taking her mouth away and replacing the smooth, wet silk with her hand, Lydia jerked him hard enough to hurt. Dan liked pain with his sex, though what little remained of his logical mind didn’t remember telling her that.
Without removing her occupied hand from its task, Lydia stood and shimmied out of her panties. She used her free hand to ease them down her legs and then kicked out of them, all while stroking Dan into a frenzy. The woman was undeniably talented.
“I don’t have a condom,” Dan interjected as Lydia forced him to lie back on her bed. She straddled him and replied, “We don’t need one.”
Other men might object. Pregnancy, they might fear, or disease. But he was Fallen and could neither become afflicted with any sickness nor fill a woman with life. Therefore, he issued no objections as Lydia aligned his swollen member with her moist entrance. She plunged down onto his shaft, and sheathed him fully inside of her with a satisfied moan.
Wasting no time, Lydia began to bounce and rock atop Dan, drawing him halfway out of her and then slamming herself back down. She felt him all the way to the end of her, taking his thickness deep and hard so she cried out every time the smooth, solid head of him met the resistance of her cervix.
Just seconds shy of emptying himself of a long overdue load, Dan was torn from his ecstasy by Lydia jumping off him and sprinting from the room. An instant later, he heard a door open followed by the sound of violent retching. What awful luck, Dan told himself. For such a self-sure, strong woman, Lydia had obviously forgotten one of the fundamentals of drinking.
“Beer before liquor, never sicker,” Dan quoted to the empty room as he glared at his now-useless erection.
He nearly cried over the loss of his nearly achieved climax but sat up with a deep sigh. His member flaccid, he pulled on his boxers and went to see if there was any help to be offered to Lydia as she hugged the toilet.
Chapter Seven
Lydia woke up the next morning with a headache she didn’t think she could inflict with any activity short of smacking herself across the face with a hammer. Her mouth was dry, her throat was raw, and her body ached in two different and specific ways. Her abdomen and back were full of pulled muscles from vomiting for hours, and her lady bits throbbed indignantly with dissatisfaction. How her body could even think to be pissed at a lack of orgasm from last night’s festivities was beyond Lydia’s comprehension.
Pulling one of her pillows over her face, Lydia remained still and waited to be mortified. She’d invited Dan into her private domain, opened herself up to his infiltration and exploration, and had pulled out his dick and worked it like she owned it. Until she ran off to throw up, of course. And all of this she’d done the same day they’d been willingly, purposefully in each other’s company in almost a decade.
The mortification never came, and Lydia pondered the lack of shame she felt for the situation. Besides drinking in a fashion she knew was stupid, Lydia didn’t feel guilty for her unreserved approach to rekindling a sexual relationship with Dan. She wished it hadn’t been in her apartment. It was her space. He didn’t deserve to know her as a person as intimately as a sexual partner.
“You have three options for how this morning is going to go,” Dan announced from the doorway to her room. Lydia snapped the pillow away from her face and glared at him. She hadn’t expected him to still be around.
“I know you aren’t ordering me around in my own home,” she said.
Dan smiled at her. “Who knew you were so pleasant when you wake up after getting misguidedly tanked? I’d say get your panties out of the twist they’re in, but I never did manage to get them back on you.” Gesturing to her living room and kitchen area, Dan continued before Lydia could formulate a response. “The options are toast and tea, which I already have out, something a little heavier, but for that we’d need to hit a diner, or we can always go back to the bar and get some of the hair of the dog, as they say. What do you think, kid?”
“I think if you call me ‘kid’ again, I’m going to pull your manly parts off and beat you to death with them.”
“Yikes,” Dan said. “Where was that feistiness when you were crying all over me last night after vomiting on my shirt?”
Lydia eyed him, noting his bare chest only after he referenced his missing shirt. His skin was smooth and tan, muscles there but not well defined. He stared at her and waited for her response. The mortification finally threatened to rise.
“I did not cry,” she managed to say.
“Nor did you vomit on my shirt,” Dan conceded with a grin. He ducked out of the way when Lydia grabbed her alarm clock and threw it at him. The plastic and glass shattered on the far wall, and Dan eyed the wreckage before popping his head back into the room.
“No tea and toast,” Lydia grumbled as she pulled herself out of bed. “My tea is decaf. I want coffee.”
“Good call,” Dan said. “Now I’m going to go before you test your strength with that bedside table. You don’t need any more broken furniture.”
“Clean up that alarm clock,” Lydia shouted at him as she scoured her closet for what she wanted to wear.
“And put myself back in your line of fire?” Dan retorted from the kitchen. “Not likely!”
Lydia couldn’t help the smirk that twisted her lips. She grabbed a pair of white leggings and a slinky black tank top to wear. Adding simple gold hoop earrings completed her outfit. She didn’t bother with makeup and wore black flats instead of heels. She wasn’t interested in looking glamorous. If she matched and didn’t look too much like a warmed-up corpse, she’d be happy.
The diner they decided on was a small place on Main Street called Grandma’s. The atmosphere was not as amiable as the name suggested it would be. Lydia shuffled inside and plopped down in a corner booth. Dan slid with far more grace into the opposite seat.
“Coffee,” Lydia said when one of the white-shirted waitresses approached their table. Dan kicked Lydia under the table and glared at her. She gave him a smoldering look right back. The waitress just grinned at them and handed over a pair of plastic menus.
“Good morning, folks. My name is Cheryl, and I’ll be your server today. Coffee will be right out, but is there anything else you’d like while I give you a few minutes to look over the menu?”
“A water for me, please,” Dan said as he opened the menu. “No lemon. And thank you.”
With a nod and another smile that was all for Dan, Cheryl spun around and made her way toward the kitchen. Lydia sulked and eased onto her seat. The sun glared in through the large front windows, pissing her off and making her headache even worse.
“You need to eat,” Dan said as he perused the food choices.
“You can’t afford what I eat,” Lydia grumbled back.
“Who said I was buying?” he said but smirked at Lydia when she went to throw a spoon at him. “I’m kidding. Of course I’m buying. Get whatever you want. I’ll wash dishes to pay it off if I have to.”
Perking up at the thought of free food, Lydia examined the menu with the first bit of enthusiasm she’d felt all morning. She and Dan had never gone out on actual dates when they were together previously. Lydia’s mother had still be
en alive, and Lydia had been terrified the matron of their small clutch would destroy Dan for deflowering her firstborn. Dan had professional concerns for being seen in romantic situations with one of his recently graduated students. It was the first time they’d shared a meal together, though they’d made a habit of sharing their beds and bodies. She figured there was little to have fun with as of late. She intended to have plenty of fun now that she had the chance.
When Cheryl returned, Lydia was ready with her order. Dan gestured to her, prompting her to speak. Lydia sent him a quick grin and then turned to Cheryl. “I’d like to start with an order of mozzarella sticks for an appetizer. Then I’d like a southwestern style omelet with hash browns and Texas toast. A side of French fries and beef gravy. I’d also like French toast. Butter, syrup, grape jelly, and”—with a seeking glance around the table —“ketchup. We don’t seem to have any here.”
Cheryl’s pen skittered across the page. She sent Dan quizzical glances from under her heavily made-up eyelashes. He smiled back at her, exhibiting his pleasant, patient nature.
“And for you?” Cheryl asked Dan.
Her tone indicated her confusion. He felt sorry for the poor girl. “I'll take the farmer’s breakfast. Over-easy eggs and wheat toast. Thank you.”
They handed their menus to Cheryl, who escaped to the kitchen to deliver their order.
“This might be out of line,” Dan began in a careful tone, “but do you always eat that much?”
Lydia flashed him a wide smile. “Not always, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“So you eat that much for every breakfast?”
“Does that bother you?”
Lydia’s tone went from amused to pouty. Dan knew not to let it get to offended. The woman was a bomb with the shortest fuse known to man. If they were going to be working together—and more, as it appeared she intended—he needed to avoid lighting that fuse if he could.
“Nope. Just another reason all women should hate you. You must do an awful lot of exercise to burn off that many calories and maintain that crazy gorgeous body.”
Lydia didn’t allow herself to be flattered by Dan’s attempt to placate her, but she did sit back against the plushy red booth seat without stabbing him with a fork.
Cheryl returned with the appetizer and Lydia dug into them, dunking one crispy fried cheese stick into the cup of ranch provided and the other into the red marinara sauce. It was too sweet for her liking, but she was starved. Her body had burned too much recently without her replenishing her carb supply.
Hangover forgotten, Lydia gnawed on and gulped down four of the six cheese sticks before glancing up at Dan. She swallowed the last bite of her fourth stick and asked, “You want some?”
“Didn’t want to get in your way, kiddo,” Dan teased. Without waiting for Lydia to get pissed at him for his joke, he reached in and grabbed the last two, eating them plain. He wasn’t a big fan of them, but they were good for a few bites.
Lydia bounced one leg and dipped her slim finger in the ranch cup, drawing drops of white liquid to her tongue and licking them off as she waited for the rest of her food. Dan found himself irrationally captivated by the movements. He was surprised back into the present time and place by Cheryl’s return to their table.
Setting up a sling to prop the two carry trays she needed to bring all the food over, Cheryl placed her burden beside the table and began transferring them over. Dan eyed the formidable spread in front of Lydia, wondering how it was even possible for her to put that much food into her slender body. He decided it had to be her Dragon blood that made it possible for her to eat so much. Either that or this was her idea of a joke.
It was no joke when Lydia went at her food. She hadn’t realized how drained she’d allowed herself to become. She finished off her French toast so fast she found herself slightly out of breath. Dan had one forkful of eggs still halfway to his mouth, not having taken the first bite as he watched her eat.
“Your food will get cold if you keep staring.”
Lydia’s dryly delivered comment snapped Dan out of his trance. He scooped eggs into his mouth and followed the forkful with a bite of buttered toast. Though he wanted to speak to her, Lydia was far too focused on her food for Dan to get a word in edgewise.
Midway through her plate of fries and beef gravy, Lydia heard a customer from the other side of the restaurant speak.
“Hey, turn that up,” the aging man requested. He slouched alone in a corner booth, entertaining only a cup of coffee and the morning paper. The small TV he gestured to sat above the bar and currently broadcasted a news channel.
As asked, one of the servers stepped up on a bar chair and turned up the volume by hand. Lydia’s attention faltered from its focus on her food as she listened to the pretty newscaster speak.
“A rash of strange disappearances and several possibly unrelated deaths over the past twenty-four hours have residents in a state of fear. Evacuations have been mandated by state government officials, and are being overseen even now. We have been speaking to concerned individuals. Many of them wonder why exactly are the people in our town disappearing, what is being done to stop it, and who could be targeted next? The killings, which may or may not be connected to the string of disappearances, are said to be brutal and surreal. One anonymous source is quoted as saying the victims have been ‘torn up’ and otherwise mutilated. We can only hope the fine police force in our town will be able to put an end to these tragic crimes soon. For channel twelve, I’m Trisha Paulson, urging all viewers to stay safe and alert.”
Numbers hovered on the screen, red writing on a black-and-dark-blue background, for the local sheriff and another for a help and information line. Suggestions to call 911 flashed on the bottom of the screen, as though any idiot in existence had failed to learn the most recognizable three-digit number in America.
“Jesus,” Lydia breathed.
“I don’t think he’s involved,” Dan commented while finishing his food.
“Do you think it’s the Hunters doing this?” Lydia asked in a hushed voice.
Dan hesitated. Though it was what he’d said he wanted to discuss with her, approaching the conversation now felt like cliff diving with no equipment. “I worked with them like you did,” Dan began, struggling to keep the story he’d concocted simple and believable as he spoke. “So I don’t know if I’d say I know enough to say if this sounds like their methods. What do you think?”
Lydia eyed Dan and finished the last of her food. She felt restored, and blessed the greasy, carb-loaded spread that had invigorated her. “You said you had info on them for me in the letter. Why are you asking me about them if you have superior information?”
“I just wanted your opinion,” Dan said. “It doesn’t sound like anything I’ve seen of them. Tearing up humans and leaving them out, mutilated, that doesn’t sound like Hunters. They’re discreet. They bury their bodies like they bury their secrets—quickly, quietly, and deep.”
Lydia pondered Dan’s words as well as her thoughts and knowledge about the Hunters. He was right. This rash of possible kidnappings and grisly killings was not like them.
“So what’s going on here?” Dan asked as he signaled for the bill.
“I don’t know yet, but I know a few people who are probably trying to figure it out. So, let’s go.”
Gathering up her purse, Lydia left the paying of the meal up to Dan as she walked toward his car. It sucked that they had to skip dessert. As he exited the restaurant, Lydia decided she’d convince him to hit an ice cream shop on the way to her sisters’ house.
Chapter Eight
Licking her fingers clean of Blue Moon ice cream, Lydia unsnapped her seatbelt and waited for Dan to put the car in park. As soon as he touched the gearshift, she unlocked her door, opened it, and jumped out. Dan thought it was a terrible habit. He wondered if he could break her of it and then decided it would be easier to break the habits of a wild bear. Reminding himself to keep that comparison i
nternalized for the rest of his natural life, Dan exited the vehicle and used long strides to catch up to the quickly moving Dragon woman. He felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach, wondering how her sisters were going to react to his presence. Sisters talked, right? What had Lydia said about him? And what did Jade and Daria think of him?
From inside the house, Daria, Jade, Mallory, and Leigh watched Lydia move up the driveway. Though no one could identify the man by his physical appearance, two of them could smell the threat on them.
“Back away from the door,” Leigh said to the Dragon sisters.
Mallory waved them back when Jade didn’t move. “She’s with a Hunter,” Mallory told them. “We can smell him.”
Jade and Daria backed away several feet, but neither was willing to go to another room. If Lydia had brought danger into their home, she was in trouble or she didn’t know it. Either way, they wouldn’t abandon their blood.
As soon as the door open, the vampires blurred into motion. Mallory took hold of Lydia’s arm and dragged her down the hallway. Leigh slammed Dan against the wall, nearly cracking the plaster with the force of the blow.
“What the hell are you doing?” Lydia exclaimed as she jerked her arm out of Mallory’s strong grip. She rubbed the abused limb. Mallory hadn’t learned to control her vampire strength yet.
“He’s a Hunter, Lydia,” Mallory said. “We can smell it on him.”
“Is it true?” Lydia asked. She didn’t know if she’d spoken loud enough for him to hear her, but he did meet her eyes. The pain in his gaze was affirmation enough, but she asked again, “Is it true?”
Though Leigh had an arm braced against his throat, Dan managed to nod. Lydia thought she’d explode with fiery anger, but instead, her emotions were extinguished entirely.
Lydia watched Leigh crush Dan against the wall of her family home. She lost her words. She felt numb throughout, as though his betrayal had quelled all the flames within her.
Scorched [Pain & Love 3] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 5
