by C. A. Storm
Once it had updated, I flicked through my contacts until I found the one I was looking for. Pressing the call button, I waited for the line to pick up.
“Um, ciao?” The soft, hesitant voice came over the line. “I sorry, Miss Ashleigh no available. Please, message after beep. Beep!”
I sighed.
“Ashleigh, you do realize I watch television, correct? I am not that out-of-touch,” I growled at my impudent younger cousin.
The answering voice was much different than the timid, mousy tone she had tried to fool me with. “Villy, how did you get this number?”
“Audrick gave it to me,” I threw our other cousin under the bus. He was a grown dragon, he could take the heat.
“That scaly bastard!” She growled, “Why are you calling, Villy?”
“Because Audrick sent me to deal with Leanaí in the Americas, and when I got here, I found my mate,” I said succinctly.
The phone went silent.
“Hello?” I glared at the screen, double-checking the connection. Nope, still connected. I sighed, “Ashleigh, I need your help.”
She screeched, “What? You need my help! Villy, you found a mate? That poor woman! Where are you? I’ll hop a flight and get there as soon as possible!”
“Why can’t you just fly here directly?” I muttered, only to be met with another shriek.
“Because I’m in Milan, you Neanderthal! I was shopping for a new wardrobe! I’m not about to leave my loot behind just because you don’t know how to talk to girls!”
“I know how to talk to women,” I defended myself. I was more than three thousand years old! I had talked to women plenty of times.
“Oh, sure, as long as it only involves grunting. You’re not exactly Casanova there, bucko.”
Casanova?
“Who is this Casanova? Should I call him instead?”
The line went silent. I glared at the screen. When Ashleigh spoke, it was slowly, as if to a child, “Um, sorry, Villy, forgot that you were asleep during that period. No, you can’t call him. He was a mortal love god. Don’t worry about it.”
“How do you know of this Casanova? Didn’t you only wake up recently?”
“Villy, I’ve been traveling Europe, exploring and learning for the last year,” she huffed, “I haven’t secluded myself of on some island out in the middle of nowhere, like others I could name.”
I believed she was talking about me, but I brushed it off as unimportant. Other things were far more important. “I do not know how to woo a modern woman, Ashleigh,” I admitted, feeling that strange, uncomfortable heat crawling up my neck.
Maybe I had a rash? Scale fungus was always a pain to deal with.
Ashleigh sighed. “Look, Vil,” her tone was serious, no longer the flippant tone from earlier. “Honestly, if she’s your mate, just be you. The Fates joined her to you for a reason, and they wouldn’t be cruel enough to saddle you with a mortal that you couldn’t sweep off her feet. The Norns always had a soft spot for you anyways.”
Be myself? Well, that was easy, I was always myself. Why would I want to be any other way?
“Thank you, Ashleigh,” I said, then deciding to be generous, I continued, “If you still wish to come visit, perhaps you should. There is a grand ball being held that Audrick wants me to attend here at Cœur de Lyon. That was always more your purview.”
“Yep,” she said cheerfully. “Already booking my flight Stateside! I’ll be there soon! Don’t burn down the Rockies before I get there!”
I snorted, but before I could deign that remark with an appropriate response, she ended the call.
What to do now?
Setting down my phone, I stared up at the ceiling overhead. I could hear the shower running, could hear the water hitting her flesh and imagine it dripping down over her lithe, petite body. I could feel my body responding, my blood pumping hot and furious as my instincts screamed within me to claim my mate by burying my aching, throbbing cock repeatedly into her body until it no longer functioned.
Realizing I was stroking my cock, squeezing the thick organ that seemed to have a mind of its own, I sighed and dropped my hand.
I turned toward the piles of boxes and bags resting near the front entryway.
Maybe sorting through my loot would keep my mind off my little mate, but I seriously doubted it.
Chapter 17
Yuki | Cœur de Lyon Estates, Shadow Lake, CO | December 6, 2017
Okay, so yeah, I just rode a freaking dragon! How fucking awesome is that! I wanted to message my girls and brag, but that would be uncouth. Totally. Right?
RODE DRAGON NBD ٩(｡•ㅅ•｡)و/ / /
Oops, my fingers slipped while typing.
Tossing my phone on to a bed that would have taken up my entire living room, I stripped out of my clothes and hopped into the shower. I chuckled as I heard the angry buzzing of my phone going off like a swarm of angry hornets.
This was obviously a resort, and an upscale one, going by the sheer luxury of the entire cabin. While it was “rustic American,” it was that expensive rustic, the type with thick wood, polished cedar floors, and a view of the valley that was incredible.
The bathroom was no less grand, with stone floors and a shower that could fit at least five of me. It was even bigger than the one in my hotel room! Granted, everything in the cabin seemed to have been sized for a giant—or a dragon in human form—so I had to do a lot of stretching to reach for things, but with multiple, massaging shower heads that were angled for maximum coverage and water hot enough to turn my skin red, I had ascended to Takama-ga-hara, the Plain of High Heavens.
My hair had come loose from the ponytail I had secured it in earlier this morning, most likely during the struggle with the putto. I was going to have to have Miki pull up whatever information on the Enoch that she can find; I hated going in to a situation blind, and here I was, a blind woman in a land of one-eyed heathens.
I tested the soaps, shampoos and conditioners that were arranged on the shelves. Some of them were probably left by the resort staff, while others were clearly brought from somewhere else; I didn’t recognize the language, but thankfully they were clearly labeled in multiple languages on the back.
A circular puck of soap drew my attention; the dark, ashy gray bar had a strong, smoky scent that was oddly comforting and reminiscent of the scent of Vilhelm’s skin. Closing my eyes, I bit my bottom lip as my hormones sparked.
I have a confession.
I’ve never had sex before. With anyone. I mean, yes, I’ve done some kissing and heavy petting, especially when I was in college in San Francisco, but I’ve never even gotten past second base.
Honestly? I’ve never even been remotely tempted, at all. Kisses from drunk frat boys left me unbothered, and I never even seriously obsessed over idols or sex symbols. I could find a guy, or even a girl, attractive, but they did nothing for my libido.
Listening to my mother, my aunts, their gang, even my grandmother and her cohorts, cackling and gossiping about sex like it was this life-changing experience, I just rolled my eyes and carried on. Even my father, an infamous lover who had seemed to enjoy spreading his “love” far and wide throughout Japan, was obsessed with it. I just didn’t understand.
I thought that maybe I was asexual, and was quite comfortable with that. Sex made people crazy.
But now? In the last 48 hours, I swear my panties had spent more time soaked from desire than they had been dry. It was almost enough to make me wear pads!
Almost. Those things were uncomfortable. I was grateful that my nature ensured I only had to go through “my time of the month” once a year…fuck! It was almost my time of the year. FUCK!
I was entering my ovulation phase, which would explain my heightened libido. Particularly since this phase was occurring during my transfiguration. So not only was I craving sex now, but if I gave in, there was an all-too-good chance I’d end up pregnant.
Great, just great. Too bad birth control didn’t work for superna
turals, otherwise I’d be downing those little pills like candy!
Leaning my head against the wall, I barely resisted the urge to bang my forehead against the slick stone. “Great,” I muttered with a low growl, “It’s my time of the year, I’m about to physically transform, and I have to deal with not only dealing with three guys wanting to get into my pants, but still have to figure out what the fuck is going on with the Wicked Queen and the damned Kuroikagami she wants me to retrieve.”
Nope, speaking it out loud didn’t help clarify anything for me.
With a heavy, put-upon sigh—yes, I was pouting, sue me—I shut off the water and climbed out of the shower.
Glaring at my reflection in the mirror, I grabbed a towel and began the lengthy process of drying my hair, muttering to myself the entire time.
It was about then I realized I didn’t have any clean clothes.
Sneaky fucking dragons.
Laughing despite myself, I shrugged and hung up the towel, padding naked back out to the bedroom, pointedly ignoring the big, inviting bed with the rumpled sheets. Spotting a large bag, I peeked inside and found a some tightly rolled clothing. As silent as death, I rummaged through the bag. He apparently liked things simple, considering the contents were mostly blue jeans and plain white t-shirts, with a few corded sweaters, rolled socks, and boxer briefs. Apparently, he didn’t always run around naked. That was a shame.
I mean, a relief! That was a relief!
Fighting back another accursed blush, I yanked out one of the t-shirts and shrugged it on.
This was fucking ridiculous.
Apparently, a t-shirt appropriately sized for a seven-foot-tall man equated a full ballgown for a still-claiming-to-be-five-foot-tall woman. Okay, not really, but the hem was below my knees, and the v-neck dipped dangerously low. However, this was one of those times I was grateful I didn’t always need a bra.
And yes, I was perfectly aware that white t-shirt, no bra, and barely dry skin equated hints and shadows, but between the thickness of the cotton and the fact it hung off my shoulders, I had few options at this moment.
The man apparently didn’t own any colored shirts!
Picking up my phone from the bed, I grinned as I thumbed through the messages received from the girls:
BITCH U LIE! ┌∩┐(◣_◢)┌∩┐ [Tsubasa]
RIDE THE SNAKEBOY SNOWGIRL!
～＞°）ニニニ♀ニニニ＝～ [Miki]
♡-(꒪ཀ꒪) PICS! PICS! PICS! (꒪ཀ꒪)-♡ [Kaori]
(((ლ(͏ ͒ • ꈊ • ͒)ლ))) ANYONE WE KNOW?
(((ლ(͏ ͒ • ꈊ • ͒)ლ))) [Shinkō]
Chuckling, I scrolled once more and found another message from Miki.
Q(`⌒´Q) BTS! CAVALARY OTW!
Well, at least I knew my team would have my back. I knew I couldn’t trust Kurokō further than the tip of my nose, so it would be good to have support, especially with the addition of the Enoch to the mess. Although, I’m not sure how Colorado was going to deal with the five of us here together.
Slipping Masa’s medallion once more out of my jeans pocket, I draped it around my neck before I fished out my panties and slid them on. No way was I going downstairs without at least a lacy barrier between me and the world. Nope, I’d let my tits fly free, but I wouldn’t go commando! That was just asking for trouble!
I heard voices downstairs, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. What I could make out, however, was the scent of cooking food. Tilting my head back, my lips parted and saliva pooled as my senses flooded with the smell of steak, onions, garlic, and other, less familiar scents. I realized I was starving!
I paused on the bottom step and stared. I couldn’t do anything else. I was witnessing the sexiest damn thing I had ever seen.
Vilhelm Vindorm, the bad ass brute, the giant Viking dragon, was naked except for an apron that barely covered a third of his chest and hung just low enough to offer the minimum amount of coverage, had his back to me as he loomed over a stove, easily juggling two saucepans, a sauté pan, and a stove-top grill. Those perfect, tight, and oh-so-very-pale cheeks flexed invitingly as he moved around the kitchen, apparently whipping up a gourmet meal by the sounds of it.
Leaning against the fridge was the other man I had seen earlier, the one who had been driving the truck. Thankfully, he at least was fully dressed. He even had on a battered cowboy hat. Almost as massively built as Vilhelm, I was actually really fucking relieved to find myself not drawn to him in the slightest.
Don’t get me wrong, he was adorable! Nearly seven feet of sculpted muscle straining at a thin plaid shirt tucked into tight, worn blue jeans with the biggest…belt buckle…I’d ever seen. His hat was tilted back, revealing a baby face, smooth as a baby’s bottom, and large, clear eyes the color of pine needles. Eyes that were wide and staring at me in shock as his mouth gaped open.
Turning to face me, Vilhelm’s unblinking eyes met mine and a slow grin curled his lips. Once more, I was caught in his predatory gaze. There was a strange, fluttery sensation in my chest, and I mentally cursed as I felt myself growing damp once again.
The dragon sensed it, of course, as his grin turned decidedly wicked. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one that noticed it, as the younger man blushed a furious red nearly bright enough to match his auburn hair.
“Um,” the younger man said. “Well, sir, ma’am, guess I’ll be moseying on back to the ranch. Give me a holler if you need anything, Mister Vil.”
Without taking his eyes from me, Vilhelm gave a brief nod, “Thank you for your assistance, Arnie. Before you leave, I’d like to introduce you to my Yuki, my mate.”
He didn’t even realize it, did he? My Yuki. In Japanese, Miyuki could mean “beautiful snow” or “beautiful happiness,” and although I knew he was saying ‘my Yuki’ in that possessive way men tended to be, with his accent, it became a term of endearment.
Clearing my throat, I tore my eyes from Vilhelm’s to give Arnie a small bow, “Konbanwa, Arnie.” I wasn’t going to argue with the dragon, in his own place, about ownership. Nope, not at all. Well, maybe later, when there wasn’t an audience, but to be frank, having the protection of a dragon? Of Vilhem, in particular?
My Clan didn’t raise a fool.
“Oh! Uh, hiya, Miss Yuki, ma’am,” Arnie said, still blushing hotly, but offering me a sincere, friendly grin. He really was a beautiful man, yet next to Vilhelm, he really did nothing for me. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Yes,” Vilhelm agreed, “Now, go. You are given leave to depart, Arnie. We will see you some time tomorrow. I have some things I wish to discuss with you.”
Ah, the arrogance of dragons really was amazing.
Dipping his hat, Arnie departed without another word. As he walked by, I could feel the primal energies that were barely contained within his flesh, the touch of his magic clearly marking him as a shifter of some sort, although I could not be sure what type.
Sigh.
I needed to brush up again on my Western supernaturals.
Yay for having a friend who was an unmatched expert at research!
Turning back to meet Vilhelm’s eyes, I cleared my throat. Again. “So, what are you cooking?”
Curling his lips, Vilhelm turned back to the stove. “I am preparing grilled venison, with black peppercorns, onions, mushrooms, and garlic. Sautéed asparagus with a cheese-sauce. Roasted potatoes. Gravy.” He pointed a spatula at the island that divided the kitchen from the main room, “Please, if you would join me while I finish our dinner?”
Taking a seat, I had to crawl up on to the stool. There really was no graceful way to do so clad only in an oversized t-shirt, with a stool that was clearly designed for much taller people.
Story of my life.
Glancing sidelong at me while he continued to cook, Vilhelm said in a quiet voice, “I apologize for the simplicity of our meal, but if I was hungry after today, I believed you would be also.”
Grimacing as my stomach gave a loud, violent growl of
agreement, I managed a weak grin, “You’d be right.”
I noticed that he had apparently already taken a quick shower himself, as his skin was clean and glowing with good health in the overhead lights of the kitchen.
Nodding toward the wine rack, he said, “Please, help yourself.”
Eyeing the wines doubtfully, I said, “I’m honestly not that familiar with wines. Anything you recommend?”
He gave me a long, considering look. “Do you prefer sweet or dry?”
Fuck, pop quiz time, and from the serious look he was giving me, I wasn’t sure whether or not he was going to offer extra credit!
“Honestly? I’m used to sake, shochu, or umeshu. Beer if I’m feeling adventurous,” I finally admitted guiltily.
He blinked at me a few times. “I am unfamiliar with those drinks,” he admitted sheepishly, giving me a disturbingly crooked grin that made my heart pound. “In that case, I suggest opening the pinot noir, we’ll start with that one and find what you may like.”
It really shouldn’t surprise me that a dragon—a species known for not only their hoarding tendencies and incredible mystical powers, but also for their taste for the finer things in life—was a wine expert, but this particular dragon just kept surprising me.
I poured us both a glass of the pinot noir, which he accepted with a wide smile before he finished making dinner.
We didn’t really talk much more than that while he cooked, his focus on his tasks impressive to say the least. It was surreal. The events of the day, including two encounters with Enochs, a disappearing Kurokō, the weird spider guy Kincaid, riding on the back of a dragon, and now I was sitting in a dragon’s kitchen while he made a romantic dinner for two.
I’d ask when my life had become so interesting, but let’s face it, growing up a Shiro, my life was rarely boring.
And it was a romantic dinner, even if it was him wearing only a chef’s apron, me wearing his t-shirt, and the two of us sitting on stools at a kitchen island, drinking wine in companionable silence.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that he was unsure of what to say. If so, then we were both pretty clueless, because what do you talk about with a dragon?
