by Jory Strong
By the Great Shared Ancestor, evacuating the magical artifacts had been far more important! Hakon would have done the same. And besides, gold in that form was heavy and awkward to deal with, and loose pearls were like pennies in trouser pockets, annoying and distracting.
He’d had enough of this. First Pierce trying to bring about his downfall, and now one of the dragon princes trying to polish him up and turn him into a tempting bauble for Lyra.
Takeo prevented him from responding by asking Lyra, “What other activities do you pursue?”
“I read.”
Pierce dealt the hole cards. “As does Tielo. His tastes run toward commercial fiction.”
Twin plumes of smoke poured from Odion’s nostrils. He glowered at Pierce. “We are not interested in learning about Tielo.”
Lyra laughed, though her stomach quickly knotted, then knotted tighter as Tielo’s play became wilder and wilder, his chip stack diminishing as if he were in a race to quit the game.
Had the attraction all been in her head? Or had he held himself in check early on, afraid to reveal that once he started chasing the dream of winning, he couldn’t stop?
Was he like her biological father after all? The question chilled her.
And that chill deepened when she took Takeo’s remaining coins. Because when he asked to be allowed back into the game, she was tempted to say yes, not because the rules permitted it, but because he wasn’t nearly as skilled at Hold’em as the rest of them, and winning would mean more money for her.
“No,” she said.
Then no again, for the opposite reason, when Hakon won a pot containing the remainder of Roque’s chips, though part of her wanted to allow Roque to buy in to the game for a second time.
She found the resolve to deny the request by imagining going to the Ochoas’ restaurant and discovering the space vacant. Of losing touch with the family as circumstances forced them to live in their car and send their children to relatives.
Roque was too skillful a player to discount. He could make a comeback and she was now the chip leader, with Hakon and Odion close behind and Tielo…a distant fourth.
Tielo managed to take his eyes off her. Satisfaction surged through him at the flurry of gambling taking place at the other tables, and the small fortune being left at a bar stocked with Dragon’s Flame along with rare wines and liquors.
Perfect. And this was only the first of the prospective mates.
More would come.
The word triggered a heated pulse through his cock, a demand accompanied by images of Lyra beneath him, her long legs wrapped around his waist, those luscious breasts pressed to his chest. Her breathless pleas of Harder, Tielo, please make me yours ringing in his ears.
He shook his head to clear the fantasy. To give in to temptation was to lose his bet with Pierce, to be snared by his own scheme.
The play came around and he pushed more of his chips in. It was a bold move. Or a reckless one, depending on what motivations others judged him to have, given how weak his hand was against the high likelihood Odion possessed two pairs and Hakon only needed a single card to complete a flush.
His bet chased Jubal out of the pot, but in the end, he was left with a mere forty chips. His ma—
No. He refused to think of her that way. Lyra had added to her winnings. With a casual glance he calculated the total and smiled when, on the next hand, she took Jubal’s remaining chips, forcing him to stand in preparation of leaving the table.
“Allow my return to the game,” Jubal said, the purr in his voice grating on Tielo’s nerves.
Lyra licked her lips.
Red began creeping in at the edges of Tielo’s vision when Jubal said, “Perhaps I can tempt you into saying yes where you’ve told the others no,” at the same time summoning a distant cousin to the velvet rope.
Jubal took a flat, slim jewelry case from his relative and placed it on the table in front of Lyra. “Only say I may rejoin the game and the gift is yours to keep.”
“Protest!” Odion said, standing, his anger directed at Jubal.
“The rules don’t prevent it,” Pierce said.
“Say no,” Odion said, as if he had a right to order her, and red painted more of Tielo’s vision.
“Open it,” Jubal urged.
She did, breath catching at the glittering sapphire necklace.
Tielo’s muscles bunched. His jaw clenched as she trailed her fingertip over it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Not nearly as beautiful as you. Allow me to put it on you.”
She shook her head then closed the jewelry case and forced it back into his hands. “I think you’d come to regret giving this to me.”
“Never.”
Every male at the table leaned forward as she retrieved her phone and turned it on. Tielo stood when he caught Jubal’s soft purr.
The height allowed him to see a photograph of what must be her third-graders. The auburn-haired fool was so ready to be weighed down by heavy shackles he was probably imagining they’d all been sired by him.
Several pictures later she stopped on a beautiful woman with caramel-toned skin. “My sister, Summer.” And glanced up to see for herself why Jubal wasn’t the correct mate. The male was now absolutely focused on another, his eyes lust-dilated.
“I’d be happy to arrange an introduction.”
“I will hold you to your offer.”
Jubal leaned down, brushing his lips across hers.
Protest roared through Tielo in a haze of red. Sexual talons ripped away all denial as he only barely maintained his human shape. Mine!
The acknowledgement of it burned the flimsy barrier separating him from images of Lyra lying on a bed of glittering jewels. Of rolling and luxuriating on it in the dragon realm in those moments before going to her knees and offering herself, legs spread and vulva dripping in anticipation of being taking by her mate in his first form.
Such a thing was possible. He was larger, heavier as a dragon, but he could cover her. He would cover her, impaling her with his shaft and mating her, trumpeting his pleasure and satisfaction for all to hear. His!
“Well played,” Hakon said after Jubal had passed beyond the velvet rope, his eyes full of nerve-scraping glee. “Shall we resume the game?”
Resume and end them!
Tielo snarled, “Deal, Pierce.” The fey was welcome to all the proceeds on those nights other mates were here, but this night Tielo would be the true winner.
The fury of his claim to Lyra blocked out all other emotion—until play moved to him. Then he knew fear.
It ripped through him at seeing how few coins remained. A round, possibly two, unless fate and skill combined saved him from his earlier folly of denial.
He folded, biding his time. His alarm magnified when Odion won.
Rules be cursed, he’d snatch Lyra up and make a run for it before allowing Odion to have her. And Hakon…
The prince had made it known he didn’t want a mate. Nothing in the male’s behavior suggested he wanted Lyra, not in the way the silver-and-gold dragons did. Not in the way he himself did, his craving now unleashed with a vengeance.
Patience. Patience.
Little by little he chipped away at Odion’s winnings. His satisfaction doubled by the increased attention it gained him.
He basked in Lyra’s gaze each time she glanced at him. Her scent deepened the longer he played and the more he demonstrated his true skill at playing poker. It became lush, heady, the call of a female in need of her male.
Her desire was like a hand reaching out to stroke him. Like a fist settling around his cock and urging it to hurry to her opening. Soon he would do just that.
There was no suppressing a feral smile when Hakon crippled Odion, and then he, in the next hand, rid Odion from the game altogether. “Just the three of us now,” he purred.
He could best Hakon. He intended it, but six rounds later, he watched in disbelief as the last of Hakon’s gold was added to Lyra’s immense winnings. Panic fla
red then, given the discrepancy. She had him six chips to one, meaning she could use her big stacks against his little ones, turning each round into an all-or-nothing situation.
If she won, she’d be free to cash out her winnings and leave. Worse, she might willingly accompany one of the others home.
They had been sent from the game, but they waited beyond the velvet rope for a second chance. And all of them, save for Jubal, would swoop if she were still free after the mandatory waiting period expired, and the unobtrusive guards Severn had assigned to her were no longer present. A rake of serum-filled spurs across her flesh and she would wake in the dragon realm, bound to the male who’d taken her to his lair.
“A side bet,” he said, the desperation in his voice turning into a snarl at reading Pierce’s amusement. “If I win this hand, we take the game private. We’ll commandeer one of the offices.” Of course they’d use his office, and shortly thereafter, his bed in the adjoining living quarters.
Foolish. Lyra knew it was absolutely foolish to even consider it, but the idea of being away from an audience appealed to her, as did the thought of spending time alone with the man the cards favored.
She could have all his chips in a couple of plays, though worry nibbled at the edges of her psyche. Hadn’t she imagined him a dragon intent on stealing treasure, lulling his opponents into a false sense of security then striking?
Yet still she said, “And if I win?”
“I will fund a field trip for your class in the upcoming school year. Anything logistically feasible. A trip to Disney World perhaps? Or the private screening of a not-yet-released movie, with snacks provided of course. What do you think?”
She thought what he offered was far more tempting than jewelry—and far more dangerous. It meant he understood her well enough to know where her weaknesses lay.
Did she dare take this private? Would she regret it if she said yes? Or regret it more if she said no? “Make it a field trip for all of the third-grade students.”
“Done.” As easily as that, as if money was no problem.
Because he actually had that kind of wealth? Or because he considered the card table an ATM? Though in studying poker, she knew even the best players had long streaks of losing.
“I’ll take the bet,” she said.
Tielo’s smile made her think of a dragon stretched out on a jewel-covered ledge and basking in the sun. “Deal the cards, Pierce.”
Chapter Five
Tielo purred when he looked at his hole cards, a pair of kings. The sound of his satisfaction was soft enough Lyra didn’t hear it, though the dragons crowding the velvet rope did. They knew within moments he’d have his mate behind closed doors and his seduction would begin.
Pierce would be left with the task of dealing with males who wanted to know when their mates would arrive at Drake’s Lair. Fitting retribution given fey trickery.
Lyra nibbled her bottom lip, signifying she had nothing but possibility. It was a tell that would dismay her if she knew of it, though the sight made him want to lean forward and take that same lip between his teeth, to explore it with his tongue as a precursor to delving into her mouth.
Pierce spread the three-card flop—queen of clubs, two of clubs, jack of hearts.
The tell disappeared, and that in itself was a tell. She now had something.
But it wasn’t worry that twisted in his chest, leaving him conflicted and uncomfortable. It was imagining her radiant smile at being able to do something wonderful for the children.
A glance down at his chips said he couldn’t afford to lose. He very much feared he would if he couldn’t chase her from the game before turn and river cards joined the flop. “All in.”
Lyra contemplated it for all of a second but the chance of a field trip was too tempting. “I call.”
Tielo flipped his cards over.
A soft “damn” escaped when Lyra saw his kings against her sevens with the possibility of a straight.
Chip racks arrived. Tumultuous, contradictory emotions buffeted Lyra as she left the velvet-roped public table and moved through a crowd of men whose attention remained focused on her. Twice her steps faltered, as if some instinct for self-preservation tried to kick in. Twice, a glance at Tielo burned away resistance.
I can handle this. I can handle him.
It wasn’t panic that flared in her belly at glimpsing the bed in the attached living quarters, or at finally being alone with Tielo after a small, intimate poker table had been set up in the middle of the office.
She swallowed. She’d underestimated his effect on her.
If she’d thought she’d been caught in a maelstrom of desire out in the club, with plenty of distraction and an audience guaranteeing self-control, in private it was like being on the edge of a fiery vortex with him at the center.
She closed her eyes but it didn’t help. His features might as well have been branded on the backs of her eyelids and the need for him painted onto every inch of her skin.
“A drink?” he asked.
“No.” She didn’t dare, though she opened her eyes to watch him help himself to one, pouring what looked like Dragon’s Flame from a crystal decanter on the desk before sitting at the poker table and shuffling the cards.
She became transfixed by the sight of his hands, found it all too easy to imagine them on her skin, light against dark. A shiver of need went through her and she pressed her thighs together.
Heat crept up her neck and into her face at remembering the flare of masculine nostrils as she’d made her way to the office, as if the men who’d parted so she could pass had scented her arousal and wondered just how wet her panties were.
Tielo scooped the cards up. His gaze lifted. Halted, his attention caught on the hand she hadn’t been aware of—her own at the front of her dress, loosening the top buttons.
“Take it off,” he said, dominant, intense, making her channel spasm and her womb flutter.
She licked her lips, made a vain effort to tell herself she’d been trying to cool down, not unconsciously extending an invitation.
A silent laugh marked the lie. Cooling down was an impossibility in Tielo’s presence.
He was all man. What a dragon would be if it took a human form.
Possessiveness stamped his expression. The look he sent her made her feel like his woman, but rather than diminishing, it emboldened, infusing her with feminine power.
Without looking at the two cards he’d dealt, she said, “If you win. I’ll take it off. As a side bet.”
Play moved fast because of the challenge. Anticipation heightened with flop and turn and finally the river card, so she wasn’t sure who the winner would be, or who she wanted it to be.
Her flush beat his nothing. He doubled that victory by standing and slowly unbuttoning his shirt, then peeling it from his body and tossing it casually onto what was probably Pierce’s desk.
A whimper escaped. A needy sound to accompany the throbbing heat centered in her pussy and clit.
Her mouth watered and she caught herself leaning forward, hungering to kiss his smooth chest, to use her tongue to trace the dragon curled around a masculine nipple pierced with an onyx-studded barbell.
“It’s you,” she murmured, loving the deep rumble of his laugh.
“Yes, it’s me.”
The torso and head of the beast were gold, but its crest and the underside of its wings were silver. It was beautiful artwork, capturing masculine mischievousness as well as predatory interest. She wanted to press her lips to it, to torment the nipple at its center, flicking the barbell before capturing and sucking as her hands stroked over taut abdomen on their way to hard cock.
He sat and another whimper escaped, this one a sound of protest, of frustrated feminine need. But she rallied, saying, “I’m surprised the dragon isn’t anatomically correct.”
“You’ve seen a male in his first form?”
There was a growl in his voice, as if he were wondering if she’d come to Drake’s Lair before.
His expression said that imagining her with anyone else was unacceptable.
Ditto. She didn’t want to think of him playing private games with another female.
“This is my first encounter with dragons.”
She smiled at how thoroughly she’d been sucked into the role-playing, understood better how it was with her sister’s BDSM lifestyle.
Waving in the direction of his chest, she said, “There’s nothing to distinguish the males from the females.” Though she was absolutely certain the beast on his skin was male.
His laugh was low and deliciously wicked. “Dragon cocks are sheathed inside the body. They emerge only during coupling. There’s a reason virgins made an acceptable tribute from villagers who wanted to keep their fields and buildings from being scorched. Mating between species is possible, and extremely pleasurable.”
He touched the tattoo, masculine fingers capturing the barbell-studded nipple, playing with the piercing in the way she wanted to.
“Imagine what it would be like to be taken by a dragon in his first form—by this dragon.”
“Whew,” she said, giving in to the urge she’d been fighting all evening and fanning herself. “Time for a change of topic.”
Though she did imagine it, and was flustered at how easy it was. At how thoroughly aroused it made her. Sweet Jesus, and she’d thought men and women wearing bits and being ridden by their masters was kinky when Summer once told her about attending a party where that kind of play went on.
“Your deal,” Tielo said, eyes dark with the knowledge he’d turned her on, nostrils quivering as though he could smell the gush of arousal leaving her channel with each hungry ripple of her sheath.
Her hands shook. Her mind was so fogged that calculating odds was impossible. Reading him in order to take a stab at what hole cards he held was beyond her, not when the hole she cared about was between her thighs, aching to be filled by a dragon’s cock.
She won by luck, not skill. He stood, hands going to the front of his pants, lingering there and making her squirm in her seat as more arousal poured from her slit.
