Dragonfire

by Sherrill Quinn

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  Amber Quill Press

  www.amberquill.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Sherrill Quinn

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

  * * *

  DRAGONFIRE

  By

  SHERRILL QUINN

  * * * *

  ISBN 1-59279-674-8

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  www.amberquill.com

  Also By Sherrill Quinn

  The Claiming

  Obsidian's Flame

  Dragonfire

  CHAPTER 1

  "That's the worst idea you've had yet.” Leilani Aster glared at her sister. She glanced around the small outdoor café and lowered her voice. Just because she and Melantha knew magic was real, she really shouldn't broadcast the fact to the public at large. While this town had seen just about everything, she didn't think even Los Angeles was ready for dragons and druidic genealogy. “I told you, I already have a plan."

  Melantha snorted. “Lure Gerszon to the ocean so you can call upon your power and ... what? Drown him? What happens when he calls upon the wind and sweeps the water away?"

  "You think he could move a wall of water thirty feet thick and forty feet high?"

  Her sister shot her a disbelieving frown. “It took all the power our ancestor had over twenty-five hundred years ago to trap Gerszon the first time. Doesn't the fact that he's already mounted two mental attacks against us tell you we can't do this alone?"

  "You wouldn't be anywhere near when it went down.” Leilani leaned forward. “I'm not going to risk you."

  Melantha sat back in her chair, her mouth open. She blinked a few times then, her face reddening, she ground out, “And you have the gall to talk about Zander's arrogance.” Leaning forward, she braced her elbows on the tabletop. “You need to forget this so-called plan of yours and call him."

  A shock of regret and old hurt went through Leilani at the mention of her ex-lover's name. “There's no need to get Zander involved in this."

  "No need?” Melantha's eyes went wide. “No need! Lani, the Lyaksandro family has been pledged to protect the Aster line for centuries, even before Gerszon was banished. And the Lyaksandros are needed even more now, since neither of us has anywhere near the power it would take to do it again. You know that.” She brought her burger up and took a big bite. Pushing the food in her mouth over to one cheek, she added, “Zander is the Rastaban—the head of the Dragon Order. He has to help you."

  "He's also the ex-lover who thinks I betrayed him with another man.” Still upset at Zander's lack of belief in her—and his unwillingness to listen—Leilani clenched her hand around her fork and jabbed a tomato. It spattered seeds, some of which landed on her white blouse.

  She scowled and plunked her fork down. “This is just great.” Grabbing her napkin, she muttered a curse while dabbing at the stain.

  "That was two years ago. Get over it already."

  Leilani closed her eyes. Get over the man who had been—and, when she'd admit it to herself, still was—the love of her life? She wished it was as easy as Melantha made it seem.

  But Aleksandar Lyaksandro was a complicated man. Loving him had never been easy, even though he'd been her whole world. Maybe especially since he'd been her whole world.

  She sighed and looked at her sister. “It's not that simple.” Picking up her fork, she stabbed through some lettuce and speared the bite into her mouth. She chewed a moment, then muttered, “I wish it were."

  Melantha munched a French fry. “It can be.” She picked up another one and waved it around before she dipped it in her ketchup. “We're in real trouble here, sweetie,” she said, as serious as Leilani had ever seen her. “We need him."

  Leilani drew a deep breath and held it briefly. She shook her head and rested her chin on her fist. Melantha was right, as much as she hated to admit it.

  They needed Zander. Or, at the very least, someone from the Order of the Dragon.

  She gave a quick glance around and, seeing that they were unobserved, dipped her finger into her drinking glass and called forth her power over water. Within seconds, the water was cold. She picked up the glass and took a sip.

  An idea came to her and she snapped her fingers. “I'll call Terik."

  Terik was Zander's second-in-command, a powerful dragon in his own right. Big, dependable, ruthless when he needed to be but, unlike Zander, capable of showing tenderness.

  Zander, on the other hand, was always “on,” always being the big-ass leader.

  Her sister shook her head and scowled. “Please don't call Terik."

  Something had happened between Melantha and Terik, though her sister had never given any details. Whatever it was, it seemed she was as unlucky in love as Leilani was.

  So, she could call Zander and make herself miserable, or call Terik and make Melantha miserable. Some choice.

  Melantha heaved a sigh. “Never mind me. You can call Terik, hon, but you know he'll tell the Rastaban.” Reaching over the table, she covered Leilani's hand with her own. “Sweetie, it has to be Zander. I know it, you know it. Just make the damned call."

  Leilani sighed. She didn't want to call Zander. She didn't want to see Zander. Mel had told her to get over it.

  She didn't think she ever could.

  But now ... It wasn't just her safety in question, it was Melantha's, too. The last magical attack had been stronger than the first, and directed at both of them. She was the oldest; it was up to her to protect her sister. She'd promised her parents she wouldn't let anything happen to Melantha, and she would keep that promise regardless of the personal cost to her.

  She plopped her fork onto her plate and pushed her half-eaten salad away. It didn't matter how she felt. She had no choice—she had to call Zander. Reaching down, she picked up her purse and put it on her lap, and fished out her cell phone.

  Flipping it open, she stared at it with unfocused eyes. Goddess above, she didn't think she could do this. To see him again ... Even after all this time, his lack of faith in her was still an open wound. To be near him was inviting disaster.

  She'd either end up smacking him silly, or boffing his brains out.

  Maybe both.

  "It ain't gonna dial itself, sweetie."

  "Mel?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Shut up.” Leilani punched in Zander's number and put the phone to her ear. She chewed on her lip as it rang, then sighed when she heard his deep voice in a recorded message. With a snap, she closed the phone and dropped it back in her purse. She looked up to see Melantha's frown.

  "You didn't say anything,” her sister said.

  "Got his voice mail."

  Melantha gave a soft snort. “Usually when people get voice mail, they leave a message.” She shook her head. “He may be a dragon and can breathe fire and all that wonderful stuff, but he's not telepathic."

  "Mel?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Shut. Up.” Leilani rooted around in her purse for some gum.

  Melantha laughed. The laughter was brief, ending with an indrawn breath. “Well, well, well."

  When Leilani glanced up, her sister was looking over Leilani's shoulder, her eyebrows raised. Melantha's gaze shifted slightly to the left and a hard look passed over her face. “Maybe I was wrong."

  The hair on the back of Leilani's neck stood up. “Wrong about what?” she asked slowly, even though she knew the answer. Without turning to look, she was fully aware of what—or r
ather, who—was behind her.

  "About Zander not being able to read minds.” Melantha lifted her chin.

  A spicy blend of cloves and expensive cologne wafted to Leilani's nostrils. She drew in a breath and held it, her eyes widening. Just as she twisted around in her chair, she heard his voice.

  "Hello, raindrop."

  His voice had the same affect on her as it always had, the deep and slightly gravelly tone rasping along her nerve endings like rough silk, making her body instantly alert and ready for sex. Leilani exhaled in a rush and found herself on her feet. She didn't remember standing.

  She gazed at Zander, her throat moving with her hard swallow. Goddess, but he was like water in the desert to a dying woman. He was every fantasy she'd ever had wrapped deliciously in a six-five package of sensual masculinity.

  She clenched her thighs against the liquid heat slicking along the lips of her pussy. Crossing her arms, she hid nipples that pressed insistently against her shirt as if begging for his mouth.

  He looked almost the same as he had two years ago. He wore blue jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. His thick auburn hair was a little longer than she remembered, but his eyes were the same clear grass green that never failed to make her heart race.

  Zander's face was thinner, as if he'd lost weight, drawing her attention to his lips. Those full, sensuous lips...

  Clenching her fists against the urge to bring that sexy mouth down to hers, she jerked her gaze back up to meet his. “What are you doing here?"

  It baffled her how he'd seemingly appeared just when she needed him. Her heart thumped heavily, in regret and hurt and longing.

  He perused her body, his gaze lingering on her face, then taking in the cleavage visible between the parted facing of her blouse. As his gaze drifted lower, she felt as if he were touching her. Everywhere he looked, she tingled with heat. By the time he looked back into her eyes, her body was one big nerve.

  Zander reached out and cupped the side of her face, his callused palm abrasive against her smooth skin. She fought back a shiver and jerked away from him, nearly falling over the chair.

  Strong hands reached out to steady her, and that was when she realized he wasn't alone. Zander had brought along his second in command, the man she'd thought about calling to begin with.

  Terik Pallas. Yet another big, bad dragon with the same kind of big, bad attitude as his leader. His dark eyes held wisdom and, right now, no little amusement. When he saw she wasn't going to fall on her ass, he let loose of her arms.

  His eyes drifted over her blouse and the humor deepened as he saw the tomato stain. “I see you're still wearing your food, Leilani."

  "Yeah, well, if it's good enough to eat..."

  "It's good enough to wear,” he finished with a laugh. He looked over her shoulder at her sister, and his gaze became intent. It was the penetrating gaze of a predator that had spotted something tasty. The color in his face deepened, making the two-inch scar under his right eye stand out in stark relief. “Hello, Melantha."

  Her sister muttered a low response, hostility rife in her tone.

  Zander took Leilani by one arm. “Let's talk,” he said. “In private."

  Without waiting for her consent—and, really, when had he ever?—he dragged her along behind him away from the outdoor café and around the corner into an alley. Before she had time to do much more than gasp, he'd pushed her roughly against the wall and covered her mouth with his.

  His tongue drove between her lips, stroking into her mouth in blatant possession. He brought his broad hands up to her face and tilted her head, angling her for his pleasure. He didn't bother trying to seduce.

  He flat-out conquered.

  Leilani groaned. Goddess, it had been so long. Too long. With a whimper, she collapsed against him, her hands gripping his belt for support. Her nipples tightened to diamond-hard points, stabbing against his chest, and her clit began pulsing with carnal hunger.

  He ate at her mouth like a starving man, lips and tongue and teeth bruising in their force. His hands slid from her face, glided over her breasts, then curled around her buttocks and hauled her against him.

  As he took the kiss deeper, the pressure and tension gathered in her pelvis. He fucked her mouth with his tongue and her pussy clenched in response. The sheer aggression of his marauding mouth brought her hovering on the edge of an orgasm. Her clit throbbed, her nipples tingled.

  She wanted more.

  His body was hard, his cock a stiff wedge between them. Zander tilted her so that the hard ridge of his erection rubbed against her mons, hitting her clit through her jeans as he pumped slowly against her. He kissed a path down her throat, lingering over her pulse, letting her feel the scrape of teeth grown pointed with his arousal.

  He continued to rock against her as his mouth latched onto one breast through the material of her blouse. His tongue curled around the taut tip, suckling her with strong force, the tugging setting up a corresponding spasm in her core.

  She moaned, the sound breathy and carrying no farther than the alley. Her legs shifted restlessly as she strained to get just a little bit more pressure, just a tiny bit of friction, to her aching clit. Cream coated her labia, soaking her panties.

  When his hands went to her breasts to tug and pinch her hard nipples, the spiraling pleasure gathering within her spun out of control. Her sheath clenched, grasping for something to fill its emptiness, and she wailed into his mouth. The racking shudders went on and on, spurred by the slide of his erection against her cleft.

  When the shivers finally faded, he drew back and rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming harsh and deep. He braced himself with hands planted flat against the brick wall on either side of her shoulders.

  Leilani stirred. She wondered at the immediacy of her response but, as his lips pressed softly against her temple, she let the thought go. She'd always been like this, as if he put her under a spell.

  She knew that wasn't it. It was partly her own greedy desire, partly the love she still felt for him, and partly those damned dragon pheromones of his. With a softly muttered epithet, she pushed at him.

  He pulled away only far enough so he could gaze into her eyes.

  "Why are you here?” she asked, her voice not much more than a rasp.

  His eyes glittered like glass lit from within. “I'm here to claim my woman."

  CHAPTER 2

  Zander watched Leilani's gorgeous blue eyes go round with shock. But very quickly they narrowed and she shoved at him. He refused to budge.

  "I am not your woman,” she snarled. Her lips thinned. “You made that very clear two years ago."

  He should've known she'd throw that in his face first thing. His little raindrop was special, but she could hold a grudge better than any dragon he knew.

  No matter. He'd come a long way to claim her. And not just in miles. For two years he'd battled with himself, with his hurt pride, his wounded heart. Finding Leilani in bed with another man—a human male, no less—had been unforgivable. She'd pleaded with him to let her explain, but he had the evidence before his eyes.

  What had there been to explain?

  Fuck, but he'd missed her. Missed her beauty, her laughter. And so, five days ago, he'd decided to fetch her. He would forgive her for her ... indiscretion, and they would move on with their life together.

  Leilani Aster belonged with him. Belonged to him.

  His blood heated, his body clenched as the lure of the hunt beckoned him. It had always been thus with dragons and their mates. Even though they wore a robe of civility, dragons were, by their very nature, predators. The Order of the Dragon, the military caste, held the greatest hunters of them all.

  The sweet scent of her arousal was heavy in the air, her still-harsh breathing loud in his sensitive ears. His gaze drifted over her breasts, taking in the stiff peaks pressing against the whiteness of her blouse, the material over the right nipple still damp from his mouth.

  God above, his co
ck was so hard it throbbed. It'd been like an iron pike since he'd first clamped eyes on Leilani sitting in the outdoor café with her younger sister. Zander hungered for her like he'd hungered for no other woman. Her soft curves were made for him, made to fit his hard angles perfectly.

  Had fit him perfectly. His lids lowered to half-mast as he remembered the feel of her soft thighs clasping him close, her slick heat gripping his shaft, milking him, her ocean-blue eyes dark with passion.

  Those same eyes were dark now, but with irritation. “Aren't you going to say anything?” she demanded. “Or are you just gonna stand there like a great big lump?"

  She had always been full of sass—it was one of the things that had drawn him to her. That, and her courage. Others were afraid of him, afraid of the violent depths with which he felt things.

  Leilani hadn't been afraid of the Rastaban. That he was the head of the Order of the Dragon hadn't deterred her in the least. Rather, she had embraced the primitive urges that surged just under his surface. She'd gentled him, made him a better man. Made him want to be a better man.

  "Tell yourself you don't belong to me if you like, raindrop,” Zander finally responded. “But we both know the truth. You've been mine for a long time, even before we first made love."

  She scowled. “You're so full of shit.” She tried to duck under his arm, but he blocked her and wrapped his arms around her, trapping her against his body. “Let go."

  "Uh-uh.” Never. He'd never let her go again. The sooner she accepted it, the better off she'd be. “You belong to me, Lani."

  Her lithe frame strained against him and she went so far as to draw her foot back and kick him on the shin. Since her back was to the wall and she couldn't get enough momentum, he barely felt the blow through his thick shit-kickers. But he gave her a little shake just the same.

  Her eyes glared up at him, tears shining in their depths. “You threw me away, Zander. Remember? You found me in bed with Sinjun and wouldn't let me explain."

  His jaw clenched at the reminder. Sinjun Boudreau, one of the most influential politicians in L.A., had been obvious in his campaign to seduce Leilani away from him. And successful.