by Celeste Raye
“Divide and conquer? Is that it?”
Boy, she was even more beautiful when she was mad, and the dress that she’d been given, a loose and flowing thing in a shade of crimson, really was playing havoc on his body and mind. It clung to every inch of her body, and his erection was starting to poke up against his trousers, something he was sure she would not miss. He stepped toward the door, his emotions in a tangle. “No. I mean, yeah, in war, but you’re guests and…and I should go.” Preferably before she actually managed to cave his skull in with a piece of furniture.
She stepped toward him. The gown swirled and clung. He got harder still. He grabbed the frame of the door and managed to get his lower body behind it just before his erection became blatantly obvious, and she said, “If he hurts her, I will kill you. I’ll kill you a hundred times.”
She was serious. He knew they were friends, not relatives, but she was clearly protective of Heather. She had accompanied her on that date after all. He cleared his throat. “Duly noted.”
He fled before she could slam the door. His footsteps echoed down the hall as he went to his room. He was swollen and thick with need and blood, and he glared down at it, his eyes resting on that thick bulge that was pushing up against the fabric.
He headed for the small bathroom, determined to use some cold water and maybe his fingers to tame that problem of his down. He’d just finished stripping off when there was a tap on the door, and then it opened. He stood there, his mouth hanging open and his staff jutting out at a sharp angle as Christy’s face appeared and was followed by her body.
She was still mad, and she had already said, “You know what? You’re taking me to…” That was when it hit her. He saw it happening. Her eyes flicked downward. Her face went scarlet, and her eyes went wide. She took a step back and then she stuttered out, “You’re naked.”
He glanced down. He was harder than ever. The heavy shaft, wrapped with blue veins, was throbbing visibly. His head was a dusky purple, swollen with blood. He said, “I was about to take a bath.”
She squeaked out something. His head came up. Their eyes met. He felt a wicked grin start up when he saw the points of her nipples, stiffened and shoving against the thin material of her dress. So, he wasn’t the only one feeling the heat? Good.
She was gone in a single second. The door slammed shut behind her with a loud bang that made his hardness wilt just a bit. He glared from the door to his rod and back to the door. “This is insane. I’m casting that spell as soon as I get myself under control. Swear on all that’s holy I am, and screw Max.”
Max, who’d taken some kind of shine to Heather and had decided to fly off with her, while leaving Blake there alone with a human woman who was either flat-out crazy or dangerous, or both.
Scratch that, he thought. She’s definitely dangerous. A woman like that could do a lot of damage, to his heart, to his soul, and to his main goal—which was to save his line from extinction.
Chapter Four
Christy was on edge and pacing her room. That Heather had decided to run off with that dragon, and he was a dragon, no matter how much he looked like a human, bothered her a great deal. That she was in a place so different from the one she had always known was creating havoc. Her life was neat, ordered, and just how she had always wanted it. No surprises, no complications, and she had total control of herself and her life.
Or had.
It was all screwed up now.
Tears came to her eyes. Her heart was giving off hard throbs matched by the ones firing off in her lower body. What had she been thinking, opening that door of his that way? The sight of Blake naked and…hard…God, so hard…had definitely thrown her into a tailspin.
That she had felt an immediate attraction to him just by looking at his picture bothered her. That she had been attracted to him in the coffee shop had made her feel guilty since Heather had been there to go on a date with him. Heather was obviously interested in Max and not Blake, but still, it was bothersome to admit that she had been attracted to Blake back when Heather might have had interest in him.
If there was anything Christy really hated, it was betrayal. Friends were supposed to be loyal. Which just made Heather’s disappearance all the worse. Christy’s bare feet swept over the lovely floor, her hands yanking at her gown as she went.
Her mind kept going back to Blake. He was magnificent. He was tall and strong, with a wide chest and broad shoulders. His waist had been tight, and his hips lean. His legs had been long and muscular and his manhood…holy shit. It was big and thick, deliciously wide and so…
“I need help. I’m having hot flashes for a dragon. He’s an animal. What the hell is wrong with me?”
Her words held a plaintive note. She took a seat on the low sofa and stared at the room. It was incredible. Precious and semi-precious jewels studded the furniture and the view, of wide open landscapes featuring the mountains capped with snow and the rolling green meadows below, was to die for. But she wanted to go home, back to her loft and her life and her job.
Back to normalcy.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. An echo of the sheer lust that had bolted through her when she had seen Blake naked stayed on though. She did have sex, but despite all the things she said to Heather, she didn’t find it that satisfying. There was always something missing, something she could never quite put her finger on and explain, but she could feel that she needed to do something different.
Her eyes flew open. Well, she was definitely doing something different now. That thought made a little grin come to her lips.
She watched the sun go down and still Heather had not returned. She could hear people…no, she corrected herself: they are not people. They are dragons, and you’d do well to remember that. They’re not people and dragons kill people.
That was what had her scared. What the hell had Heather been thinking, flying off with that creature? What was she thinking, letting herself get all heated over Blake when she knew what he was?
And how was any of it even possible? How was it possible that she ended up in this place and with people who were dragons?
“I’m so quitting that dating app,” she muttered, “As soon as I get back.” Tears came up again, stinging her eyes as she realized that she might not be able to get back despite Max saying that as soon as the portal opened again, he would see to it that they were sent home.
How long would that be? How long until the portal opened? She had a job that she had to be at almost every single day because in her profession, you were only ever as good as your last deal, and she had had some stinkers lately, not that she had shared that with Heather either.
Heather was her bestie, but Heather had zero idea what Christy’s job as a high-powered investment manager was like. Heather was always struggling in her job as a lawyer because it had never been the profession she had wanted to be in, and because Christy knew that and knew that Heather needed to vent, needed to think people who went after their passions always succeeded, Christy had not mentioned that she had not been succeeding or very happy in her job as of late. It was the job she had always wanted. She had gone after it with a single-minded determination, waitressing and scraping by on scholarships and student loans and ramen noodles just to make it happen, to get that college education she had to have, to be able to take on the internships that had given her good references and experience in the field—the things that had gotten her into the company she now worked for.
How could she tell Heather that she’d been wrong? Not just about her career either but about how happy she was just having NSA sex with random guys who didn’t know her and did not really want to? She didn’t know why she wasn’t that happy with it; she had been in the beginning. It had been exactly what she had wanted, to satisfy her itches without having to worry about making excuses as to why she was too busy for the rest of it. It kept her from having to worry about having her heart taken, or ever falling in love. It was hard to fall in love with someone who already had a
nother date lined up for the next night. Especially when she knew that they did. It was hard to loosen her heart to someone who only wanted her body, and just for a short amount of time.
Her mother had taught her a really hard lesson, whether she had meant to or not. Her mother had always been looking for love, and she had always been sure that the next guy would be the one. The one who would love her, who would marry her, who would be Mr. Right, who would make all the hurt of her mother’s past fade away.
None of them ever had been, and her mother had turned into a bitter woman with nothing in her life but her fading looks and her romance novels and her disillusions. Christy loved her, and while her mother had not been the best mom, she had given Christy the clear understanding that if she wanted better, she would have to work hard to get it because she had nobody else to count on, and she had always paid the bills on time—two things that Christy never forgot.
She had wanted more. She had wanted success and to not have her heart broken. She had her job and her dating apps, and they had always been enough, up until recently.
It was true, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She wanted something else; she just had no idea at all what that something else might be.
What she knew she wanted, whether she wanted to admit it or not, was Blake. For the night, anyway. She groaned and headed to bed, determined to get some sleep. Come morning, she and Heather had to figure out a way to get the hell out of there, and fast.
She lay there, restless. The memory of his magnificent body would not let her be. His blond hair was his own, as witnessed by the thick thatch between his legs, the curls that had surrounded his thick and full rod. The long and plump length that had jutted up from his body at a hard angle and had fired off so much lust in her body that she’d been stricken speechless.
“Great. I’m hot for a dragon.”
Yeah, she was. The more she thought of him, the more restless and uncomfortable she had become. She wanted Blake, and she was terribly afraid that that was one itch she just might be foolish enough to scratch.
Chapter Five
Blake walked into the kitchens of the castle the next morning to see Christy, looking frantic, rummaging through cabinets. He asked, “Everything okay?”
She slammed a cupboard door shut. Her hair was mussed, and her face had a mark from the pillowcase, a small red line that rested along her right cheek. She looked beautiful, even when she had just woken up.
She gave him a wild-eyed stare and muttered out, “Coffee. Jesus Christ. Where is it? Where’s the pot?”
“We don’t drink it.”
She grabbed her chest and staggered backward. She croaked out, “What? No really. What do you mean you don’t drink it? Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. It doesn’t agree with us.”
“My God,” she stumbled around in a few circles, muttering curse words. Then she stopped and asked, “The humans that live here? Do they drink it?”
He frowned. “I don’t really know. I avoid it, so I don’t pay much attention to that.”
She whimpered. Her hands went to her forehead, and she pushed at her skin with her thumbs. “Help.”
That last word was plaintive. He hid a grin. To think all he needed to fell this rather formidable woman was coffee. He said, “I could ask.”
She slid down the wall she stood in front of. Her bare feet were very pale and slender, the blue veins very prominent. For some reason the sight made his rod stiffen slightly. He looked away, fast. He said, “The cook should be here any minute. She’d know for sure, but honestly, I think you’re out of luck on the coffee situation.”
She levered herself back up the wall. She tugged at her hair with one hand. She gave him the most baleful look a woman had ever given him, and that was saying a lot. “How can you be so damned cheerful without coffee?”
“Probably because I don’t drink it.”
She bared her teeth at him. “Ugh. You’re probably right. Okay, what do you drink?”
“We have tea.”
“Tea.”
She made it sound like a dirty word. He moved past her and opened a cabinet. She peered into it. “I didn’t notice that cabinet at all. What is all that stuff?”
“Teas and tisanes. I think they are the same thing, but the herbalists among us insist they aren’t.” He fumbled around in the cabinet and produced a small metal box. “This is the strongest one. I know it’s not coffee, but I think it’s the closest we have, because, honestly, I doubt there’s any such thing as coffee floating around here.”
“Great. Now I wish I’d ordered an espresso. I would have, if I had known that there was none here. But then again, I had no way of knowing I would get snatched like that, so that’s…ugh. I can’t even. Not without some coffee.” She took the tin and stared at it, clearly baffled. “How do I make it?”
“Light the fire, set the kettle,” he suggested. The look on her face was so pitiful, he had to swallow back a laugh. He took the tin. “I’ll do it.”
She stared as he arranged wood in the stove. “Don’t you have power? I mean, there’s lights.” Her head went back, and she surveyed the ceiling. “Wait. I know I saw lights. So, where are they?”
He said, “It’s magic. They come on when it gets dark and go out in the daylight.”
“You’re shitting me.”
He blinked. He sure hoped he wasn’t. It sounded remarkably unpleasant. “Er, do you mean I am lying to you?”
“Pretty much.”
“No, it’s true. We have what we need.”
“Then why doesn’t the stove work on magic?”
“The humans prefer wood. It’s what they know. The lights scare them even though they have lived with magic all their lives.”
She asked, “Did you kidnap them too?”
“No, most are the many times great grandchildren of the humans who were loyal to us, well, to our ancestors, before they were cursed. They came of their free will. That is the thing. You have to come of your own free will.”
“Well, there is a problem here then. I am most assuredly not here of my own free will.”
“You didn’t let go,” he pointed out, “Not even when you could have.”
“I was dangling above the city,” she shot back snidely. “And you were abducting my bestie.”
“Bestie?”
“Best friend.” She sighed. “Is there really no way for us to get back like right now? I really do need coffee, and I really do have to get to work too.”
Remorse filled him. “I am sorry, I am. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.”
Her eyes held his. “What were you doing in my world anyway? Besides trying to buy some hapless woman’s uterus?”
“That was pretty much it.” He stared at the wood stacked inside the stove. “I have to have a child.”
“Why? I mean…why did you need Heather?”
“I need a human woman, or a dragon female who lives in your world. It’s complicated.”
“Does every female here hate you so much they refuse to have children with you? Color me not shocked.”
He glared at her. “No. I…my father broke a law. The punishment is that he could not have children. Since he had already had children and killing me would break the same law, they had to decide that the punishment would extend to me. So, I am not allowed to have children with any of the women on this world.
She ran a finger along the top of the stove, frowned and surveyed the tip of it. “I see. So, what did your father do that was so horrible?”
“He killed another dragon. The laws they made after they were made, or rather, turned into dragons, specifically forbade it. They were hoping to be able to keep the peace that way.” He looked around for a match, saw none, and let a thin stream of smoke funnel out of his mouth. He heard her say, “Oh shit! It’s grease,” but it was too late.
The fire touched the stove. Flames immediately leaped into life, and some of them were running along the top of the stove!
&nbs
p; He let out a shout and grabbed the water faucet. He sent a blast of water at the stove, but that just made it all so much worse. She moved past him, smelling like flowers and sleep, and grabbed something from a cabinet. She cried out, “You don’t put water on a grease fire! Here!”
White flour flew into the air and hit the top of the stove. A nasty burning smell and gray smoke filled the room. He coughed, and the coughing got worse when she aimed a handful of flour at his face!
His fingers clawed at the stuff. He gasped out, “What are you doing?”
“Making sure the fire is out,” she said in a distracted voice.
He wiped his face. Little bits of flour drifted through his fingers. He shook his head, sending more of it flying from his hair and face. He bellowed, “I can’t burn to death!”
She stared at him. Then her hands went to her mouth. Laughter erupted around her fingers. She gasped out, “I am so very sorry. Really. I got scared.”
“You threw flour in my face!”
She stepped closer. Her fingers came out and up, and she rubbed at his forehead. His body went rigid. Her breasts were a bare half inch from his chest, and he could smell that sleep and soap smell again stronger now. She took a deep breath, and he could feel the tips of her nipples brush against his skin, the lightest and most fragile of strokes and caresses he had ever known, and one that inflamed his senses so much that he took a quick step back. He said, “It’s okay. I don’t think that stove’s all right though.”
She glanced at it. Her mouth curved upward. “Me either.”
They set to scrubbing it. It took a bit of doing but they got it and the tea kettle filled and heating. When the tea was in her cup, she took a long sip and then her eyes went wide. “Wow! It’s strong, like really strong. That will wake you up. What is it?”
“It grows here. I do not really know the name of it. It’s just tea.”
She ran her slender fingers around the rim of her cup. “I bet there’s a few coffee shops that would pay a fortune for it.”
