DragonMate

by Jory Strong

  Kirill cursed silently. His mate would be better off in the dragon’s realm, away from this cousin and worries over her. If it were left to him, they’d leave as soon as he could get Jazzlyn alone and rake his mating spurs across her flesh. But since that wasn’t an option, he would insist she think about her cousin only when there was action to be taken. And he would enforce his will with carnal demands that left no room for any emotion other than pleasure.

  His body reacted to his silent pledge, his mind lingering on images of Jazzlyn naked beneath him. It took him a moment to realize they weren’t heading in the direction of her apartment.

  “We’re returning to Inner Magick?” he guessed.

  “Yes.”

  Jazzlyn’s phone was on the seat next to her. She picked it up and called the half-elf, telling her about the encounter with Mark as well as the conversation with Carolyn.

  Kirill wanted to be aggravated by Aislinn’s interference. If not for her promise to Jazzlyn, then his mate would already be safely ensconced in his lair.

  And yet…

  Heated pleasure coursed through his bloodstream as various scenes from the day flickered through his mind. He had to admit that he was enjoying getting to know his mate while she was in her own world.

  His gaze traveled over her. Leisurely. Possessively. Satisfaction curled around his cock as her nipples hardened to press against her thin blouse and a flush rose to her cheeks.

  “Aislinn will meet us at the shop,” Jazzlyn said, closing the phone and trying not to think about just how obvious it was going to be that she and Kirill were already lovers.

  She’ll expect it, an internal voice prompted. She was there when the mirror responded to your touch and Kirill’s presence.

  Jazzlyn’s palms grew damp on the steering wheel. If she didn’t trust Aislinn, she’d have to give serious consideration to the idea she’d been hypnotized and today was all about how vulnerable she was to the power of suggestion. There was no way to explain today’s events rationally—especially the event encompassing meeting Kirill and becoming intimate with him so quickly.

  A flutter went through her belly. Heated desire slid from her channel as she remembered the way he’d used his mouth and tongue on her cunt, how he’d taken her on the bed and in the shower, making her believe while he did it that she really did belong to him.

  “You’re thinking about us together,” he said, closing the distance between them, his fingers brushing over a taut, aching nipple.

  It felt so good. Distractingly good.

  “Don’t,” she said, her body screaming an entirely different thing. “I need to pay attention to my driving.”

  His laugh was masculine and pleased. But he retreated, giving her space until they reached Inner Magick. Then he took her hand in his and escorted her into the shop.

  As Aislinn locked the door behind them, Jazzlyn was drawn to the mirror. It was mounted on the wall above a display case containing beautifully crafted rune sets, some in stone and some in wood. They made her think of Alex’s fetishes.

  Kirill stood behind her, his hands on her sides, his image captured along with hers. Curiosity made her touch the heartmate stones. They remained cool and clear underneath her fingertips, he remained human instead of dragon.

  Even so, she knew she hadn’t imagined what happened earlier. Her creativity was limited to jewelry design, not flights of personal fantasy. Besides, too much had happened since stepping into Aislinn’s shop the first time for her to pretend she still saw the world in exactly the same way.

  Her eyes met Kirill’s in the mirror and her pulse sped up. When Alexandria got back in town, she’d tell her about the mirror. Not that Alex would need an excuse to stop by, but maybe Aislinn would be interested in carrying some of her fetishes.

  Aislinn joined them. “There’s no need for it to react to your presence again, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

  “I was,” Jazzlyn said, and found she couldn’t turn away without hesitantly mentioning the dragon image she’d seen when she first glimpsed Kirill.

  Her voice didn’t come out sounding completely natural, but Aislinn’s flashed grin kept her from feeling self-conscious. “I’m not surprised. If I’d had the restoration finished earlier, before Marika and Xanthus sorted things out on their own, Kirill’s relative would definitely have shown up as dragon too. Sophie’s Severn would as well.”

  Aislinn led them to the back room where the music box sat on the table. Jazzlyn set the framed photograph next to it. “I’m not sure this will help, but it was in Mark’s possession. From the smudges on the frame, it looks like he handled it a lot.”

  “My gift doesn’t work on those who don’t want to be found. But the fingerprints might be useful.” A small smile appeared on Aislinn’s face. “There are some advantages to being married to a detective. I’ll ask Trace to find out what he can about Mark. Do you have a last name?”

  “Robertie,” Kirill said. “It appeared on several items in his office.”

  “I’m not going to ask for further details on how you saw it or how you came by the picture.” Aislinn leaned in to examine it more closely. “Too bad they’re blocking the boat’s name and there’s not enough background scenery to tell where it’s being kept.”

  Her attention shifted to the music box. Her expression became somber as she lifted it off the table. She closed her eyes and, as before, the minutes seemed to creep by, stretching into anxious silence until it was broken by Aislinn saying, “She’s alive. I think she might be in an exhausted sleep, possibly on the boat. Either that or she’s rocking herself. The fear is intense, much stronger than it was before, but it’s not crippling. I get the sense she believes she has time. She doesn’t feel as though she’s in immediate danger of being hurt or killed. Beyond that, her thoughts are too murky for me to pick up more.”

  With a sigh Aislinn opened her eyes and set the box back on the table. “I’m sorry. My gift works best when someone is terrified or dying and wants to be found and rescued. I wish I could do more. At the same time, I’m glad your cousin isn’t in that particular situation. Trace should be here any minute—he ran to Starbucks.”

  Amusement replaced the weariness and worry on Aislinn’s face. “For all his toughness, and despite being married to me, he gets very uptight about coming into the shop. He still prefers evidence that can be bagged, tagged and explained. When he gets here, I’ll ask him to try to recover prints from the picture frame and check them out at the same time he’s seeing if your cousin’s boyfriend has a record or a boat registered to him. I’ll call as soon as I know something, even if it’s just to say Trace didn’t come up with anything.”

  “Please call, regardless of how late it is,” Jazzlyn said.

  Aislinn stood. “I will.”

  Jazzlyn followed Aislinn’s example but couldn’t leave without saying, “You’ve been so generous with your time and your talent. I’d like… I don’t know what I can do to repay you for it.”

  The laugh lines at the corners of Aislinn’s eyes deepened. “You already have. You tested the mirror for me.”

  Jazzlyn couldn’t think of a reply, though she imagined she was practically lit up from the inside with sexual satisfaction and hope. She couldn’t prevent herself from casting a surreptitious glance at the mirror as they passed it on their way to the front door, just on the off chance it’d reflect something back, the way it’d shown Kirill’s dragon nature.

  “I consider myself in your debt,” Kirill said at the shop entranceway, finding it surprisingly easy to say the words to Aislinn. Elves—even those who were half-breed or outcast—weren’t known for their generosity, and yet she’d given freely of her gift without any expectation of gain.

  He understood better why Xanthus’ Drui mate had been drawn to work for Aislinn, and why she would desire to return and resume her duties at the shop. “Should you find yourself in need of collecting on the debt and can’t easily find me, send word through Xanthus.”

&nb
sp; “I will,” Aislinn said.

  He nodded and turned away, welcoming the dusk and the rapidly approaching night. For the moment there was nothing more to be done for Carolyn, and he fully intended to keep the promise he’d made to himself.

  Jazzlyn would think about her cousin only when there was action to be taken. Beginning now.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked as they reached the car.

  “Starving.”

  “Then I will feed you dinner.”

  His cock hardened with the image of her taking pieces of fruit from his fingertips. “Do you know where Drake’s Lair is?”

  Her breath caught in surprise. “Yes.”

  Her scent grew nervous and uncertain in the tight confines of the car. “It’s very exclusive.”

  Possessive feelings fired Kirill’s blood, mixing with heady anticipation as he thought about her being in the presence of other dragon males as well as the Chalice of Enos. “You will be welcome there.”

  She rubbed her palms over the material of her skirt, a gesture that stirred every one of his protective instincts to life while at the same time was oddly endearing. “I’m not dressed for it.”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, making his testicles tighten and burn. “We could go somewhere casual. Even a fast food place is fine with me. Then we could go back to my apartment.”

  Kirill could resist her suggestion only because of the Dragon’s Cup and his desire to have her drink from it. But he couldn’t resist the need to touch her.

  He pulled her to him, anchoring her with an arm around her waist and fingers speared through her hair. “We will go to Drake’s Lair.”

  He kissed her neck, biting it lightly as his lips moved upward to her ear. “After dinner you may choose where we go. Just know that I intend to pleasure you all night long.”

  “Okay,” she said on a moan of surrender when he fucked his tongue into her ear canal.

  It was a painful victory. His cock throbbed and wept in protest, urging him to free it and grant it relief.

  Separating from her was difficult. Staying the course and not directing her to turn the car toward her apartment was a test of both his will and his endurance.

  The drive qualified as torture on so many levels it was nearly unbearable. But bear it he did because once he took her to the dragon’s realm, he didn’t intend to bring her back to this one.

  Her nervousness returned when they entered the club’s parking lot. It was filled with expensive cars, makes and models so rare they made even the wealthiest human salivate to own them.

  Dragons, Kirill thought, amusement wafting through him. His kind couldn’t resist collecting, regardless of how unnatural it was to trap themselves in steel boxes.

  Jazzlyn slowed the car to a crawl, passing several empty spaces as if afraid of damaging one of the parked toys if she tried to park next to it.

  Kirill laughed. “Pull in next to the yellow car. If it suddenly moves into your path, I will make good on any damage caused.”

  Rather than calm her, his comment increased her agitation. The car slowed even further, something he wouldn’t have thought possible without coming to a halt.

  “You’re wealthy.” Her tone would have warned him of her misgivings and doubts even if her scent hadn’t already done so.

  “Very.” By human standards.

  “Where did it come from?”

  “I’m a treasure hunter.”

  She dared a quick glance. “Seriously?”

  “Yes. And you are my greatest treasure. Something I plan to demonstrate thoroughly after dinner.”

  Apparently he was getting better at saying the right thing to his mate. Heat rose to her face and her scent altered, reflecting anticipation and arousal.

  She parked the car. He twined his fingers with hers as they stepped away from it.

  Pride and pleasure filled him. Any who saw them together would know she belonged to him. Her body language announced it. More importantly, to the male dragons present, she smelled of sex and him.

  Guards were posted at the front entrance of Drake’s Lair, there to protect against the theft of the Dragon’s Cup. Kirill didn’t doubt for a moment that the fey were plotting to steal it.

  When the males opened the doors, their gazes lingered on Jazzlyn. Their nostrils flared, causing the phantom rise of Kirill’s neck crest and a low growl in his throat.

  A snort of laughter escaped despite Jazzlyn’s efforts to contain it. Drake’s Lair. She should have guessed. Drake was another name for dragon.

  She’d be willing to bet all the gems in her possession that the doormen sported dragon tattoos matching those embroidered on the lapels of their jackets, and that the maître d’ who greeted them inside and showed them to a small private table in a plush dining room also had a tattoo matching the one on his tie.

  No wonder Kirill had been so casual about coming here. No wonder he’d demurred each time she suggested he collect his car. He hadn’t wanted her to question him in detail.

  She suspected Drake’s Lair was more than a club catering to the wealthy, especially given the show the doormen put on—ogling her as though they’d like to steal her away from Kirill, making her laugh and feel flattered at the same time.

  Dragons! She just hoped they didn’t expect her to start role-playing too.

  She waited until after the waiter—sporting a dragon ring worth more than all her jewelry plus what she had in her checking account—delivered their wine and disappeared with their order. Then she asked the first of her questions. “So are all the members here dragons? Or are elves and faeries allowed in your club?”

  Kirill’s stunned expression was priceless. “You know?”

  Chapter Seven

  Jazzlyn rolled her eyes. “I may be a total introvert, but I’m not entirely blind to the world around me. Every man I’ve seen is sporting a dragon. It leads me to the inescapable conclusion that this club is exclusive in more ways than just serving wealthy patrons.”

  “Ah,” Kirill said. “I’m glad you’re so observant. It will make things easier in the long run.”

  Amusement lurked in his voice, making her suspicious. Hearing him acknowledge a future together gave her a small thrill. And all of it fed her curiosity. “So are the colors significant? So far no two dragons have looked alike.”

  “They rarely do, though sometimes those sharing lair and ancestry are distinguishable only by subtle differences in shade or the presence of an extra color on their scales.”

  He sounded utterly serious, as if he were discussing coloration on live dragons instead of symbolic ones. It might have freaked her out if she hadn’t spent the entire day with him and found him both dragonish and very endearing. “And the purpose of this club is?”

  “Many and varied.” He surprised her by standing and guiding her to her feet with a hand on her arm. “We have enough time for me to show you one purpose before our food arrives.”

  They retraced their route. But rather than angling for the front door, Kirill veered to the right and escorted her deeper into the club.

  The opulence of the place didn’t diminish. But the refined hush gave way to voices. The serenity yielded to the charged atmosphere of men gathering around tables loaded with gems and gold, poker chips and playing cards.

  Gamblers. She remembered then how notorious the club was, how often it was raided and yet nothing ever seemed to come of it.

  To a one the men glanced up at her, their expressions mirroring those the doormen had given her, and garnering the same response from Kirill. His grip tightened possessively and a low growl sounded in his throat.

  Dragons! she thought, smiling secretly as it occurred to her that before Kirill, she’d never felt so feminine and desirable.

  “This way,” he said, urging her toward another section of the room. “What’s your preference? Dice or roulette?”

  “Roulette.”

  “Roulette it is then.”

  Kirill guided her to a table where a crou
pier with a dragon on his shirt stood waiting for his first customer. He abandoned his hold on her arm in favor of positioning her in front of him and anchoring her against his chest with both arms around her waist.

  Jazzlyn’s heart rate jumped into a running pace when a man appeared next to them and unobtrusively set down a rack containing gleaming gold pieces.

  “Lady’s choice,” Kirill murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck.

  She was beyond making more than just the most basic decision. “Red.”

  He casually lifted several of the gold pieces from the rack and set them on the table, sending shock rippling through Jazzlyn when she realized they were Krugerrands.