by Jory Strong
Warm, masculine arms pulled Jazzlyn’s back against an equally warm chest. She replayed the conversation in her mind, noticing Caro’s call had come in with the phone number blocked.
“She’s in trouble?” Kirill asked, pressing a kiss to Jazzlyn’s shoulder, his arms protective and reassuring.
“Yes, but she thinks she can handle it.” Or at least that’s what Jazzlyn thought Caro was trying to convey, along with a warning to stay away.
“Perhaps that’s why Aislinn picked up only hints of anger and fear but not terror or panic.”
“Maybe.” Jazzlyn turned in his arms, chilled despite the heat pouring off his skin.
Aislinn had also told her to trust her instincts, and her instincts said Caro had wanted help, until Mark said or did something to make Caro say, “Worry about yourself.” Otherwise why would Carolyn have made a point of saying Mark was nothing like John Lamford?
Kirill’s hand stroked the length of her spine. “You don’t think your cousin can take care of herself?”
“I don’t know. She started to tell me where she was, then didn’t. I think she was warning me to stay away. But everything inside me says I need to see Caro in person before I can let this go.”
Jazzlyn sighed and closed her eyes, savoring the pleasure and comfort of being held. With sudden insight she realized how much she wanted to be able to let worries about Carolyn go, once and for all. She wanted to mark paid to the debt she felt she owed her cousin for helping her survive the school years when she was so painfully shy.
“Our relationship is complicated,” Jazzlyn murmured against the crook of Kirill’s neck, finding she wanted to say out loud the things that had been lurking in her mind for a long time. “If we weren’t related, if we didn’t have a history together, I doubt Caro and I would be friends.”
Pain slashed through Jazzlyn’s heart as she remembered Carolyn calling her a loser, someone afraid of her own shadow, after first dredging up Jazzlyn’s failings from the past and tossing them at her. Being reminded of them had cut so deeply she hadn’t even been able to share what had happened with Alexandria.
“We had a fight the last time we were together, about her choices when it comes to boyfriends. I told her why I thought she did what she did and suggested she see a counselor. She got mad. Really mad. Before she stormed out of the restaurant she said she was cutting me out of her life.
“That was six months ago. Then out of the blue she called me and said she wanted to meet for lunch. Only she didn’t show. And she didn’t show for Nana’s birthday party. Even if she was still mad at me, she wouldn’t have taken it out on Nana.”
A hot ball of fury formed in Kirill’s chest. He heard the suffering beneath Jazzlyn’s words and wanted nothing more than to remove her from this realm and leave Carolyn to the consequences of her own choices. But such a course of action was impossible.
He knew what Jazzlyn was going to say even before she said, “I want to go to Mark’s house.” And he choked back a roar of denial because he knew he’d start a fire with the force of his frustration if he didn’t.
The thought of her putting herself in danger was unbearable. But the thought of separating from her and leaving her unguarded in order to see to the task himself was equally intolerable.
For the first time, Kirill understood how it was Xanthus and the men he’d descended from found it possible to share a mate with another male—not that he’d ever share Jazzlyn. She was his, wholly and completely his. But he could definitely see the advantages of having someone who could be trusted to sacrifice everything if it meant keeping a chosen female safe.
Of course, keeping Jazzlyn safe wouldn’t be an issue if he’d accomplished what he set out to do—come to this realm, collect his mate, then return immediately to his lair.
Frustration got the better of him. A small burst of flames escaped when he exhaled.
Because he already considered her his mate, his dragon fire shimmered over her like an erotic kiss rather than a deadly assault. Her scent deepened as she felt it on her skin, telling him the petal-soft lips of her labia were parting in invitation for him to slide his cock or his tongue inside her again. Her nipples hardened against his chest, but when he would have lifted her and carried her back to bed, she resisted, saying, “We can’t. We need to go to Mark’s house.”
There was no suppressing his growl, though he did manage to keep from setting the carpet on fire. “You will stay in the car while I question Mark if he is there, or enter the house and search if he’s not.”
Her thoughts on the matter were evident in the way she stiffened her spine and pulled from his arms. Thankfully she didn’t speak. His control was shaky at best, and made more so by her nakedness as she stalked away, then bent to gather her clothing, the view of her rosy slit so provocative his cock wept where its tip touched his belly.
She strode toward the bathroom and Kirill followed. He could no more let her out of his sight than he could resist the urge to get in the shower with her when he heard the sound of it being turned on.
Not all dragons loved water, but he did. There were hot springs in the neutral territory of the portal. He would take her there and mate with her in the water and on the smooth rocks, both in his first form and his human one.
The shower stall was tiny. And though her expression didn’t welcome him, her body did. It softened as he crowded her, grew flushed from more than the stream of hot water striking their skin.
“It’s my nature to protect and guard,” he said. “I can’t allow you to put yourself in danger, especially when you believe your cousin warned you away.”
“Might have been warning me away,” Jazzlyn said, warmth and amusement returning to her face as her gaze slid to the dragon above his nipple. Her hand followed, and the combination was a sensual caress that traveled straight to his cock.
She lightly traced the silvered wings with their blue undersides, stroked the dragon’s tail and underside before moving downward to grasp Kirill’s cock with soapy fingers. Mischief danced in her eyes, causing desire and love to explode in his chest.
“I’ve never thought about it before,” she said, nearly driving him to his knees as she measured his length by moving her fist up and down on it, then released him to cup his testicles and weigh them, “but I’ve never seen a picture of a dragon that is obviously male.”
Kirill braced his hands on the wall as she continued to fondle and explore him. The unseen rings beneath his cock head throbbed. He wanted to drop the magic and let her see the full truth of his penis. More than that, he wanted to urge her to her knees and have her pleasure him with her mouth as a mate should.
Somehow enough of his sanity remained to allow for rational thought, prompting him to use her torment to his advantage, to use her remarks to help prepare her for a reality he was forbidden from revealing until she was his mate in truth.
He leaned in, nuzzled and kissed her neck on his way to her ear. “Dragon cocks are sheathed inside their bodies. They emerge only during coupling, something you’d discover very quickly were you to enter the dragon world without already having a mate. No unattached male would be able to resist you. They’d battle for the privilege of claiming and mounting you while in their primary form.”
“Even though I’m human?”
“Especially because you’re human,” he said, the answer purring out of him.
“How is it even possible?”
Her scent told him she wasn’t repulsed by thoughts of being mounted by a dragon male. But he didn’t dare tell her more, not when only a sliver of control kept him from doing the very thing they were talking about. “Magic. I’ve got ancient tomes detailing it. I’ll show them to you in the future if you wish.”
She laughed. “Are there pictures?”
“Yes.”
“Very kinky.” She brushed her lips over his. “You’ve done a lot of research on dragons.”
“I think it’s safe to say I’m an expert on them.”
“Hmmm, is that so?
Are you sure a dragon’s cock never emerges for any reason except to couple?”
“Positive.”
Her eyes held challenge and disbelief. “I think you’re mistaken. Tell me if this would work in getting a male dragon to show himself.”
She knelt before he guessed her intention.
Lust held him immobile, as did the sultry image of her gazing up at him through her lashes. Every drop of blood roared to his penis, scorching through veins and arteries as it went.
Like prey ensnared, he was trapped in the moment and the vision of her. His heart thundered in his chest, first in anticipation and then in sheer panic as her lips closed around his cock head and he realized the magic holding him into a human form was only a beat away from shattering.
His hips bucked, denying his intent even as he reached down to pull her to her feet.
They jerked again, humping air, as he lifted and pressed her to the wall.
His cock screamed in protest at being denied the feel of her wet mouth. But it was mollified when he found her opening and thrust all the way inside, hard and deep, his penis fully dragon.
“That feels so good,” Jazzlyn said, wrapping her arms and legs around him, seeking his mouth with hers.
He took her lips as fiercely as he took her cunt. He plundered her mouth with his tongue as his cock pounded mercilessly into her channel, the water lashing them, trapping them in steamy intimacy and heated sensation until they both cried out in release.
Chapter Six
“None of the vehicles are in the driveway,” Kirill said as they got within sight of the house they’d visited earlier.
“One of them might be in the garage.”
He didn’t think it boded well for Jazzlyn’s cousin if her car had been removed from sight intentionally. “It’s possible.”
Jazzlyn parked where she had on their initial visit. But when she would have turned the engine off, he stopped her with the touch of his hand to hers, and hid a satisfied smile at having thought of a way to ensure she would remain in the car without having to do battle with her. “Leave it running. One way or another, I intend to enter the house and learn what I can about your cousin’s whereabouts and condition. Be ready to drive away.”
“I can’t ask you to break into Mark’s house.”
Kirill chuckled. He doubted such a thing would be necessary. Dragons excelled at entering without breaking. It was an essential skill for beings who loved adding treasure to their hoards.
“It might be the only way to learn something,” he said. “This might be the only opportunity we have to do so.”
Worry clouded her eyes, a concern that warmed him to his toes because he knew it was for him and not her cousin. “I’ll go with you,” she said, turning off the car’s engine to emphasize her intention.
Fear flashed through him, followed by pride. Despite the confident sound of her voice, he could smell her fear at the prospect of entering the house.
Kirill trapped her against the door with his body. His instinct was to demand and dominate, to insist with a show of strength and flash of dragon fire. But his feelings for her led him to tender kisses and gentle touches, to a whispered, “Trust me to do this for you, Jazzlyn.”
“I don’t want you hurt or in trouble.”
“I’ll take care so neither happens.” He cupped her breast and was immediately rewarded by the scent of fear yielding to that of willing desire. “Promise to stay in the car so I won’t have to worry about your safety.”
Her laugh was husky, shaky. “You’re not fighting fair.”
Happiness filled him at her teasing. In all the centuries since he’d first glimpsed her image in the mirror, he’d been consumed with thoughts of ridding himself of the curse so he could claim her physically. He’d never imagined the pleasure to be had in verbal sparring.
“I’ll allow you the opportunity for a rematch,” he said, luxuriating in the warmth of her caring as her heart pounded beneath his palm.
“Go,” she whispered.
“Promise you’ll remain in the car.”
What he really wanted was to make her promise she would leave immediately should Mark return, but he doubted he could win that battle.
“I promise.”
“I’ll be back in a matter of minutes,” he said, giving her a hard kiss before leaving the car.
His approach to the front door was unhurried. He had no intention of skulking around, looking for a way in that wouldn’t be observed. The covenants the supernaturals had agreed upon when they began returning to this world to play and explore might have forced his magic into a human shape, but at least he could still use some of it.
The only good thing to have come from the sorcerer’s curse was that as a result of it, he had spent centuries studying magical tomes and practicing some of the more useful of the things he learned—not without a mishap or two—the most glaring of which was the way his eyes changed color, displaying his emotions when he was in the dragon realm, though thankfully it wasn’t a concern in this magic-poor one.
A touch of his hand to the front door, accompanied by intricate gestures using the other one and a softly spoken spell, and he knew the house was empty. Another incantation and the simplicity of the door’s locks were revealed, their image communicated through his fingertips.
Had the locks been complicated, knowledge of the spell would have saved considerable time. As it was, he used commonly known sigils accompanied by dragon will, and with a satisfying click, the locks disengaged.
Kirill resisted the urge to look back at Jazzlyn as he opened the door and entered the house. He moved quickly from room to room, his speed a reflection of his desire to get back to his mate.
Scents assailed him. Perfume and cologne. Food and furniture. All of them normal. None of them hinting of blood or violence.
In the bedroom he was greeted by the smell of sex. The comforter was bunched and wrinkled, with a small indentation in the center of the mattress where Carolyn and Mark had lain.
On a nightstand next to the bed were two empty wineglasses. As he bent to open the nightstand drawer, it brought his nose close to them.
He caught a whiff other than wine. A drug maybe?
Kirill carefully sniffed the rim of each glass, but the scent of whatever had been mixed with the wine was unfamiliar. Its presence troubled him. It could mean something. Or nothing. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to use alcohol and drugs together for entertainment purposes.
The nightstand drawer contained sex toys. Items of bondage for the most part.
His cock stirred to life as he imagined Jazzlyn kneeling in front of him with her hands bound behind her back, her eyes pleading with him to give her permission to press her lips to his shaft.
A shudder of need accompanied the thought of her lying down and spreading her legs, her slit parted and wet as she willingly submitted to his desire to tether her to the bedposts.
Kirill closed the nightstand drawer and turned away, forcibly shutting his mind to the erotic fantasies cascading through it.
A second bedroom had been converted into an office. A photograph on the desk caught his attention. Mark stood on a boat dock with his arms around a woman. There was a faint resemblance to Jazzlyn, enough so Kirill knew he was looking at Caro.
Both she and Mark were smiling for the camera, seemingly happy and carefree. Fingerprints smudged the frame, as though it was often handled.
Kirill searched through the drawers. He found nothing that would either lead him to Jazzlyn’s cousin or indicate whether she was in trouble or not. As he turned to leave his gaze caught on the picture. Impulsively he picked it up and took it with him, careful to touch only the portion that kept it upright.
At the front door he paused only long enough to use different sigils coupled with his will to engage the lock. Then he hurried to the car where Jazzlyn had the engine running.
“Anything?” she asked, pulling away from the curb.
“No signs of violence or trouble.”
His thoughts hesitated on the wineglass with its odd scent. He didn’t want to alarm Jazzlyn, and yet without knowing more about her cousin, he couldn’t determine whether or not the combination of wine and something else was significant or not.
“This is Carolyn?” he asked, tilting the picture so she could glance at it.
“Yes.”
He watched Jazzlyn carefully for her reaction as he said, “There were wineglasses next to the bed. I thought perhaps there were traces of a chemical substance there, too.”
Her shoulders sagged and a sigh escaped. Her scent spoke of frustration and disappointment, not alarm. “I don’t think she’s an addict. But it’s not a stretch to believe she does recreational drugs. The club where she works attracts the kind of people who like to show off by flashings drugs along with their diamonds and rolls of walking-around cash.”
