Seduction
Dragon Protectors 5
Laxmi Hariharan
Contents
Inscription in the Grand Dragon Hall of Mauritania
1. Neo
2. Trinity
3. Neo
4. Trinity
5. Neo
6. Trinity
7. Neo
8. Trinity
9. Neo
10. Trinity
11. Neo
12. Trinity
13. Neo
14. Trinity
15. Neo
16. Trinity
17. Neo
18. Trinity
19. Neo
20. Trinity
21. Neo
22. Trinity
23. Neo
24. Trinity
25. Neo
26. Trinity
27. Neo
28. Trinity
29. Neo
30. Trinity
31. Neo
32. Trinity
33. Neo
34. Trinity
35. Neo
36. Trinity
37. Neo
38. Trinity
Epilogue
About the Author
Inscription in the Grand Dragon Hall of Mauritania
True strength is the courage to walk into the unknown…
1
Neo
He thrust his hips forward and growled at the crowd. The lust of the thousand assembled shifters, vampires, and humans lapped at him. They urged him on. Waves rose high on the beach skirting the open-air arena in Bombay.
The audience knew what was coming.
For the hours of his performance, he was their master. They were his to manipulate. They’d given their power to him just for then.
It made the anticipation even sweeter.
He pumped his fist into the air. Fire flared from his knuckles. It flashed high and switched off. An easy trick when you were a dragon shifter, but it worked.
The crowd groaned with barely held restraint. They knew the drill, they knew he wasn’t just going to let them come. Not that easily.
“Patience…” He peeled back his lips in the parody of a grin.
Screams greeted him. Their need poured over his skin. Sweat broke out on his forehead, rained down his back.
“You want it, don’t you?” he crooned, making love to them with his voice.
The crowd was one large pulsing mass of need. He…only he could make them come. Just not…yet.
“Soon. Very soon,” he rasped. The sound grated through the arena.
The audience roared and strained at the barriers that separated the stage from them.
The pulsing edge of their need poured over him.
He soaked it up, then hissed out his approval. “Now!” The guttural cry that tore from his lips almost broke his vocal cords.
They came.
Their joined-up climax rippled through the assembled horde, the scent of a thousand releases tearing through the air.
The crowd surged forward, pounding at the barriers separating him from them. That was as close to him as they could get. They battered at the restraints.
He’d delivered. Given them the release they craved. Too bad he still felt empty. A dark, yawning nothingness ate at him from the inside.
His soul yearned for so much more. But what…?
He fixed his gaze on the crowd and grated out the words of the song.
The scars around his neck throbbed. They were the reason his voice was that husky tenor. They also made him what he was — a wild beast who could never be free. Except when he was on stage.
Gliding to the front of the platform, he dropped to his knees and raised his arms, head flung back.
The audience roared their approval.
The muscles of his neck strained as he howled his trademark cry.
Why did it hurt so much? Like he was searching for something he couldn’t put a name to? Ever since he’d been torn from his clan in Mauritania by the tsunami as a little boy, he’d been adrift. He’d reunited with his dragon family a few months ago. It hadn’t lessened that gnawing need inside him.
The skin over his heart twanged. He ignored it, putting it down to the echo of the guitar riff.
“Neo. Neo,” the crowd chanted.
A thousand oscillations drummed against his skin, feeding the hunger of his beast. He thrust his hips.
A collective groan shivered from the audience.
They’d see a body built to seduce and a face marked with scars. It only added to his appeal.
They wanted him to make them submit to his will.
Who’d tame him?
His shoulder shook, and his neck fell forward. He flung himself on the floor at their mercy.
His chest slammed onto the stage with a thud.
Even he couldn’t tell anymore where the bad-boy rockstar ended and where the other, secret part of him began—that thinking, feeling, vulnerable human who was an undercover investigator; the one who was sworn to avenge the deaths of his adoptive parents.
Sweat trickled down his back, and the warm wind from the sea flowed over his skin. A deeper, exotic scent teased him. The hair on his nape hardened, and his nostrils flared.
That scent… It was intoxicating. Like the scent of wild lilies on a hot summer’s day. It was evocative and different…and so right. It made the hollowness inside him seem even more pronounced.
His dragon brushed against his skin.
His breath hitched, and his heart hammered as if trying to synchronize with another. He tried to rise, only to lose his balance. His knees hit the floor.
The audience gasped.
Silence.
Neo flowed up to his feet. He spread his legs wide, propped his arms on his hips, and pushed his boots into the stage floor for purchase.
He narrowed his focus. His dragon swooped out on the psychic plane, hunting through the faces, searching for the source of the scent, the vibration that reached for him, tugged at him. What was it? Where was it coming from? He lowered his gaze and saw her.
A face of such pristine purity, surely it could only belong to an angel or a being not of this earth.
Her fair skin stretched over high cheekbones which rose to meet her almond-shaped eyes that tapered slightly at the corners. Her eyes were shadowed. Yet, they glowed with such gorgeous light at the same time.
They reflected himself back, as if she were his mirror image. She blinked, shattering the illusion.
Her mouth turned down at the corners, and color surged to her cheeks. Her lips parted, the dark pink of her full lower one trembling. Those beautiful eyes widened.
Was that fear he saw in them?
Her thick, dark-blonde hair fell in luscious waves to her waist.
He longed to bury his nose in the heavy locks and inhale her essence.
Her gaze still held his. Then, she angled her body away from him.
She was going to run.
2
Trinity
Indigo eyes blazed at her.
The shock of the connection was so strong, so real, it was as if his spirit had collided with hers. Her nerve cells all seemed to fire at the same time. Her breath came in pants. She wasn’t sure what kind of influence he had over her, but it was too much. Too soon.
She took a step back.
A gust of wind snapped his dark hair across his forehead. Scars slashed one side of his face. They seemed to pulse and writhe as if they had a life of their own…as if they were responding to an emotion that came from somewhere deep inside him. It pulled at her.
Her heart hammered. Her spine arched. Her chest thrust out. Something primal inside her yanked her back toward the rockstar.
His thin T-shirt clung to the sculpted planes of hi
s chest, then dipped down to his concave stomach. The waistband of his pants rode low. The material molded to his powerful thighs. He took a step forward. Those corded muscles flexed.
She swallowed. Her throat went dry.
He appeared animalistic and sexual and…a slow burn of desire pulsed between her legs. It was like all the moisture in her body had been drawn to that beating center of her. Her hips jerked forward. This was insane. What was happening to her?
A month ago, her heartbeat had started to speed up. The throbbing had ripped through her until it was all she could hear. The resonance had flowed through her and yanked at her. It had filled her with a strange longing, a yearning so powerful that it had propelled her to turn her back on her own tribe. She had followed her beating heart all the way from Moscow to Bombay, then, to that arena.
She’d set eyes on him and known then that it was him...he’d called to her on the psychic plane. Was he even aware of it?
Someone shoved at her, and her shoulder jerked back.
She winced, registering the pain to her shoulder in some distant, still-functioning part of her brain. She couldn’t look away, didn’t want to break the connection with this stranger.
He walked forward and to the side, until he was at the very corner of the stage. He was right in front of her. Another half inch and he’d be crowd-surfing.
“Neo!”
The crowd screamed out his name as if they owned a piece of him.
Except she knew it was an illusion. No one could ever restrain him. He was wild, a thing of beauty…he was magnificent. Was it because she’d evaded death so many times that she craved the essence of life that vibrated off him? She was drawn to him like nothing ever had before.
He lowered his chin. “Come to me,” he sang. “You’re mine. You know it. Don’t resist it.”
She felt his need with every fiber of her being. She was sure, without a doubt, he’d sung those words only for her.
Thunk. Her heart slammed against her rib cage. She rubbed her chest.
Neo slid down to his knees. He bent forward, almost hanging off the stage, then flung out his hand, palm up. “You made it that far. Don’t stop now.”
Time seemed to slow. She was only a few rows away from him. Close enough to notice when his eyes flashed vertical.
Desire ripped through her. Her vision narrowed to his face, those incredible eyes, that bronzed skin of his palm which beckoned to her.
Closer. She needed to get closer to him. She pushed through the last row of people that separated them and reached the barrier in front of the stage.
His hand was steady. Muscles wrapped around his forearm. Would the rest of him be as tough? As hard?
What the—! Where had that thought come from?
Breath surged to her lungs, and she felt light-headed.
She raised her gaze back to his face. There was a look of such intensity on his features. It was like he could see right through her, to her past; to how the Dark Fae had killed her parents, and how she’d evaded them to get to him.
His eyes gleamed, and his lips curved. His smile was confident and sensual…he was irresistible.
If she grasped his palm, she’d be lost. Her life would change. She hesitated.
A clap of thunder sounded, and lightning flashed. Fear whipped through the throng and slammed into her back.
She smelled it then, the scent of dry frost, and old, spilled blood. The temperature dropped, and her hackles rose.
“Take my hand.”
She saw his lips move, sensed the words which were torn from his lips by the sea breeze.
Above her thunder rolled, lighting flashed. The air grew thin. At the other side of the stage, diagonally opposite Neo, the outline of a figure faded in and out.
“Look out!” she screamed a warning.
Neo didn’t turn. He likely didn’t hear her. He seemed mesmerized by her.
Her gaze flicked to the far corner of the platform. The outline of the figure resolved into that of a man. She’d lived her entire life running. She was still running. Her stomach churned, her palms grew sweaty. She thought she’d left her past behind. She was so wrong. The Lord of the Dark Fae had followed her there.
She’d underestimated how powerful the Fae had become. They were a constantly evolving species, who could teleport like the Elysians, had the physical strength of shifters, and like the vampires often rejuvenated themselves by absorbing emotions from another.
Behind Neo the drummer jumped off his stool. He rushed at the darker figure and was flung aside. He hit the stage, unmoving, still clutching his drumsticks.
Fear ripped through her. Neo was next. She couldn’t let him get hurt. Climbing over the barrier, she ran to the stage, reached up on tiptoe, and grabbed his hand.
Sizzle.
His touch shuddered to her core, and the pulse between her legs flared to life.
His lips twisted in a cocky smirk, a sense of recklessness crackling off him.
It swooped over her and caught her in a sensual net. Sweat broke out on her brow.
His life was in danger. She was about to face the enemy she’d run from all her life. She should be afraid. Instead, she felt an innate sense of being at the right place at the right time.
Adrenaline pumped through her blood.
It was exhilarating. Just that once she wanted to be swept along.
He hauled her up onto the platform as if she weighed nothing. It made her very aware of just how masculine he was. The need in her ratcheted up a notch.
She tilted her head back to look at his face, and farther back. He was so tall, she barely came to his chest.
He gazed down into her eyes as if searching for something. His forehead furrowed, and his chin lowered until his breath brushed her cheek.
The scent of fire and woodsmoke mingled with clean, fresh spices swept over her. He smelled of freedom and light, the very essence of what it meant to be born again.
He seemed so familiar. This was right. So right. This was exactly where she belonged. With him. The rush of emotions tumbled through her, and she gasped, her knees shaking.
His grip on her tightened, steadying him.
The stranger who’d teleported in slid across the stage toward them.
She swiveled her gaze over Neo’s shoulder at the new arrival, and her breath stuttered. She dug her nails into his palm.
Neo turned. His hand still held hers. His shoulders stiffened.
The new arrival was as tall as Neo. His cheekbones stood out in an austere face so cruel it could be mistaken as being handsome. He had dark obsidian eyes, ears which tapered up at the sides.
“Igor.” Her chin trembled.
“You can’t escape me.” His features hardened. The echoes of a thousand screams rattled through his tone.
All the hair on her forearms rose.
Evil bled from him, poisoning the air between them. “Your light is mine.” He bared his lips. His fangs dropped. “I won’t stop until I own it and you.”
Her brain chattered in fear, and every pore on her skin popped. Her breath came in soft pants.
A movement on her right caught her eye. She jerked her head to find the bass guitarist had raised his instrument. With a yell, the man rushed toward Igor.
Igor flicked a finger without taking his gaze off her face.
The guitar dropped from the man’s hands. He clutched his throat and sank to the floor. His body shuddered, and he moaned.
Next to her Neo growled. She felt the anger rip through him.
Igor’s gaze dropped to where Neo gripped her hand, then back to her face. His dark eyes grew deeper. Pools of griminess reached out to her on the psychic plane. His intent to hurt was so strong, she could taste it. Her stomach churned with fear.
She tried to pull away. Neo’s hold on her tightened.
It was so tempting to hide behind the broad shoulders of this man. She’d just met him, so why did she feel so connected to him?
He had drawn her all the way t
here from halfway across the world. He was important to her. She couldn’t put him at risk.
Igor crooked a finger at her. “Don’t make me wait.”
Her breath turned to ice.
“If you don’t return I will not spare your clan.” On the psychic plane, his darkness swooped in on her, slamming into her psychic barriers.
The pressure behind her eyeballs grew. Her head felt like it was going to burst. Fear twisted her guts, and sweat dripped down her temples.
If Igor made it past her psychic shields, he’d be able to control her. She’d been a fool to think leaving Moscow meant she would be free of him. Igor would chase her, until he claimed her. She’d been too impulsive to follow the call of her heartbeat to Neo. She’d put him and everyone in the arena at risk. She’d risked the lives of her people with this last bid for freedom. Best she give herself up and save them.
She moved forward.
Neo held on to her.
She tugged her hand still in his grasp. “Let me go.”
His shoulders tensed; every swirl of muscle on his body seemed to contract. Tension leaped off him. “I can’t.”
The low growl rippled over her skin and slammed into her chest.
A mixture of emotions—fear, desire, possessions...strength—all of it flicked over his face.
Her heart stuttered. “He’ll kill you.”
Neo bared his teeth. “I’d like to see him try.”
He dropped her hand, turned and, with a growl, sprang at the Lord of the Dark Fae.
Seduction Page 1
