by Starla Night
And fire-breathing.
“I have to finish the class,” she insisted. “Which means attending the art show and submitting my final self-assessment. You’re not going to talk me out of this, Mal. And not only that, you owe me. And, as a final argument, I will flame you.”
He had no choice but to respect her wishes.
This whole kidnapping had occurred because he hadn’t listened. He hadn’t kept his promise. His enemies had counted on him being distracted by the company and they’d gotten to her while his attention was diverted.
That would never happen again.
From now on, he would listen to his needs. He would stretch. He would sleep. And he would be with Cheryl.
She loved him. She wanted to be with him. She was pregnant with his dragonlet.
Being with her, wrapped in her love, was what he had always wanted.
As the university buildings loomed on the city horizon, he gave into his urge and squeezed her shapely thigh though the black dress. “I did not come at the hour I promised.”
“God, don’t remind me.” She teased him with a human growl and bit his sensitive earlobe.
His cock pulsed.
She nuzzled his rough jaw. “I’m still angry about that, by the way.”
“Please forgive me.”
“I’m not going to.”
His stomach dropped. Could he lose her love so easily? Due to his insistence on disrespecting her desires? Amber had been right. He should have given up long ago.
He struggled to form words. “You must. I need you.”
“I’ll forgive you after a hundred years have passed, with you in bed next to me every day, when I wake up,” she said.
She wanted him in her bed when she woke up? It was difficult but possible. He must never travel more than a day’s spaceship ride away. So, all intergalactic trips would require her by his side.
That was… Well, it was difficult but possible.
His world reframed. This was what it meant to be with her. It was what he wanted.
“I will do that,” he said.
“I’m not done. You also have to listen when I speak, and you have to do what I say. And I can’t keep playing second fiddle to the company. I just can’t. I deserve better.”
“You will play first fiddle,” he agreed. “All fiddles. From now on. I promise you.”
She pulled back to study his face for truth. The air whipped against her cheeks. She squinted and tried to pull the hair away.
He rotated in the air and slowed so she could see the truth of his promise without any obstructions.
“You’re going to put me above the company?” she asked slowly. “The old company and whatever new company we start together?”
“This is my vow.”
Tears sprang to her eyes.
“My vow makes you sad?!”
She laughed and shook her head through her tears. “I’m happy. I’m sorry.” She buried her face in his neck and hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe it.”
Ah. She could not believe him and was therefore sad. His past actions had destroyed her faith.
So, through constant, faithful action, he would restore her trust. Then, after a hundred years, she would forgive him.
“You must marry me in anger,” he said.
She laughed again and wiped her eyes. “What?”
“I can’t wait a hundred years. I want you as my wife as soon as possible. By your laws, and by mine.”
“Okay.” She nuzzled him. “Your laws will have to wait nine months.”
“Plus a year,” he reminded her. “Our dragonlet must be acknowledged by my mother on the first birthday. But no matter the outcome, we will be married by your laws, and I will be yours.”
He landed at the university gallery at the top of the steps.
Wrapping the charred layer of her dress around his waist, Cheryl led him awkwardly through the crowds, past the gallery, to the family bathroom at the end of the hall. People stared, but she kept moving. Who hadn’t seen naked people streaking through crowds before? It was college.
Inside the private restroom, Cheryl washed her face, reapplied her makeup, and tried to fix the burned char that used to be her dress. As she brushed flecks off her bodice, the top layer tore away, revealing the red silk under layer.
“The whole dress is destroyed.” She tried to cover the plunging neckline, displaying a tempting shadow between her swelling breasts. “Look at this.”
He licked his lips and thrummed. “Beautiful.”
“What? No. My boobs are spilling out.”
He curved an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her silk-clad curves. If she wanted to see boobs spilling out, he was more than happy to oblige her.
“What are you—”
“Giving into my craving.”
“Huh? I’m indecent.”
“You’re mesmerizing.”
She blinked and then warmth softened her features.
He bent his head to secure her, indulging in his need for her kiss.
She allowed him a swift stamp. He tilted his head to deepen their connection.
She broke free. “Give me ten minutes.”
Yes, she was not rejecting him. Just delaying until after the art show. Determination fixed her brow.
He approved.
She took a good, hard look at herself in the mirror and then she tore the skirt. Red silk fluttered in the bathroom light. Now, instead of wearing a black dress with red flashes, she was wearing an eye-catching scarlet dress with black accents. Cheryl used one of the black panels like a kerchief to put up her hair.
“You look like a vintage pinup,” he said, identifying her style.
She studied herself in the mirror as though seeing herself for the first time. A small, satisfied smile curved her lips. “Yeah.”
He still had no clothes.
She rested her hand on the door handle. Her glossy lips quirked. “We can’t have a naked dragon running around. No one would pay attention to the art work. Stay here.”
A few moments later, she knocked on the door and gave him her puffy winter trench coat. It was short and tight. His shoulders overwhelmed the fabric, revealing a wide swath of chest down to his navel. The buttons fastened around his narrow waist, giving him a weird, mid-thigh skirt.
“Well, you sort of look like a European model.” She snorted back her amusement. They exited the bathroom and headed to the art gallery. “But you’re decent enough for an art school, and my mom’s not coming any—”
“Cheryl?”
They turned.
An older woman pivoted in the hallway as if she had been leaving and caught a glimpse of them from the corner of her eye. Her questioning brow relaxed with relief as she recognized Cheryl. She was thinner and older and her eyes look sunken from exhaustion and red from… crying?
“Mom.” Cheryl swallowed hard. “You came.”
“I just… I couldn’t miss the last art show.” She gripped the frayed handle of a brown leather purse with both hands. Her cheeks stained pink like her daughter’s. “The one you’ve worked so hard for. I saw your pictures.”
“You saw my pinup dragons?”
“They’re beautiful. The best ones you’ve ever done.”
Cheryl ran and hugged her mom. Her mom’s eyes squeezed tight and her chin trembled like she was trying not to cry.
Mal stood back, guarding over them until they completed their hug.
Finally, Chery’s mother drew back. She stroked her daughter’s cheek. “I think you’re still just a baby, you know.”
“Soon, you will think that about your grand dragonlet,” Mal announced.
Cheryl’s mother blinked and looked over at him. “Oh. Is he or she arriving anytime soon?”
Cheryl started to shake her head.
“Yes,” Mal said. “Cheryl is carrying ours right now.”
Cheryl flashed a grimace.
Why would she not tell her mother immediately? This was fantastic news. Every
grand dragon dreamed about her grand dragonlets.
Cheryl’s mother turned to Cheryl, then to Mal, and then back to Cheryl again. “Um… uh… Wow, I don’t know what to say.”
“Congratulations,” he prompted.
“Right.” She touched her brow, trying to smile but failing. “I wasn’t prepared for this so, uh, suddenly.”
“We have been working very hard to make it so,” Mal said.
Her mother’s chin dropped. “Uh. I see. Oh.”
“Mal!” Cheryl gestured with her palm down to quiet him.
Ah. This was an important thing he was supposed to pay attention to. “You wish me to stop talking.”
“Yes! Let her process.”
He waited as instructed. See? Amber would be proud of him and Cheryl too. Already he was listening.
Cheryl’s mother shook herself and laughed. “God, Cheryl, how long have I been out of it?”
“No, it is really sudden,” she said. “It’s fine. You’re not out of it at all.”
“Great. Okay. You’re pregnant and you’re, um, getting married tomorrow?”
“In the human way,” Mal affirmed. “We must present our dragonlet on the first birthday to my mother for recognition of the dragon ceremony.”
She nodded, still struggling to come to grips with everything. “Well, um, Mal. Was it? Yes, Mal, why don’t I treat you both to a wedding rehearsal dinner? I can get to know you, find out more of what you do, you know.” She laughed awkwardly. It sounded just like Cheryl.
“We would love that,” Cheryl said.
“Great. Let’s—”
“Oh, just a sec.” She let go of her mother’s hands and edged to the gallery doorway. “I have to go give myself an A on my self-assessment. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Mal watched her walk into the gallery. The dragon in him intended to stalk after her. But she instructed him to remain with her mother. He was still close enough to protect her and he could obey her instruction to make her happy.
Cheryl’s mother averted her eyes. Shy, just like Cheryl.
He introduced himself more formally. “You asked what I do. I am the CEO of the Onyx Corporation. We are a company trading in luxuries and clothing and have reached second on the Outer Planets Company Rank List.” Perhaps now they were even first. He trusted his siblings to have defeated the Empress’s adviser the same way he had defeated Sard. “In your American dollars, our corporation is worth approximately sixty billion.”
“B-billion?” Cheryl’s mother stared at him. “You are?”
“And Cheryl also,” he said. “She is a significant stock holder. Soon we will start a new company and she will hold the highest position.”
She covered her head. “Oh my god.”
Cheryl emerged from the gallery with a satisfied look on her face that changed to concern. “What happened?”
“I told your mother the truth,” he said since her accusation seemed pointed at him. “That you would hold the highest and most important position in our new company: Art Director.”
She relaxed. “Oh. Cool.”
“I was thinking maybe I shouldn’t treat for dinner.” Her mother still held her head. “You’re worth sixty billion dollars.”
“Not until tomorrow.” Cheryl hugged her mom. “So you better do it now while I’m still worth just myself.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Morning light glimmered into the bedroom. Cheryl rolled over on the cool sheets beside her.
Empty bed.
Dammit, Mal. He’d promised to be in the bed next to her when she awoke for a hundred years. Only yesterday, on the rescue flight back from Sard Carnelian’s, he’d promised. How fast could a guy forget?
Just when she thought he might finally listen to her—
The bed creaked.
She rolled to face the other side.
He was easing one bare foot into the bed. He stopped. “Was it the right timing? You rolled, so I thought you were awakening.”
Wait. So, he was trying to wake up beside her after all?
But he’d gotten up. Instead of being deliciously naked, he wore a white suit. Behind him was a bucket of ice with champagne flutes, a vase of long-stemmed red roses, and a violin.
She sat up. “You were waiting for me to wake up so you could crawl into the bed next to me?”
Her powerful dragon CEO nodded. “I swore a vow.”
Mal’s sweetness threatened to overwhelm her.
She swallowed. “For future reference, I meant that I wanted you to be in the bed with me so you’re already here when I wake up.”
“You want me to remain in the bed with you?” He calculated. “I understand. I will make arrangements.”
Arrangements? What the heck could those be? Hmm. Did she want to know?
Nah.
She dragged her gorgeous male under the covers and wrapped her arms around him. Clarification could wait. His startled, then happy thrum was necessary now.
“Good morning.” She nuzzled his rough jaw. “Happy wedding day.”
He covered her mouth with a kiss.
Desire for him throbbed.
Last night, they had stayed with her mom late. Her mom had taken them out to their favorite diner, Pig in a Poke, and cried over a bottle of cheap table wine at how quickly time passed. She tried to tell Cheryl she was too young to join her in drinking and cried even harder when Cheryl reminded her she’d been legal for half a year already, and her mom had never scheduled the time to take her out for a big birthday.
“I’ll take more time with your baby,” she’d wailed. “I swear.”
Cheryl didn’t drink anyway because, you know, baby on board. Then exhaustion made her fall asleep last night before Mal got out of the shower.
And now it was her wedding morning. She hadn’t seen Mal since their crazy passionate quickie in this bed over a week ago. She needed him now.
Cheryl opened her mouth to take command.
His lips covered hers and tongue plumbed her needy depths. Each stroke heated her center. He knew just what she wanted. She moaned and arched her back. Her breasts pressed against his chest.
“Cheryl,” he murmured, between kisses, “you’re making me forget what I came in here for.”
“You came in here to remind me how hot you are,” she said.
He growled low. “I was a normal temperature.”
“You can’t prove it to me.” She dragged his hand to her breast.
He cupped her soft flesh, sending sizzles to her throbbing center. Today was a day of joy. She wanted to start right.
As though he heard her wishes, he gave in. Stripping off her white lacy nightgown, he trailed hot kisses down to her breast. Pleasure streaked to her center. She gasped. He sucked her in, lapping and tasting, and took the pleasure to her other nipple. She writhed.
He licked and sucked down her soft belly, over the curve of her mons, to the sensitive wetness between her trembling thighs. As he tasted her, the ache for him grew.
“Mal.” She pulled him up, undid his trousers, and yanked them off.
He poised at her entrance. His hard nib was rock-hard and ready.
She stopped him. “I want to see your wings.”
“Now?” Before she could answer, he flexed. His shirt peeled off in shreds, and so did his suit jacket.
Oops. Next time, she’d tell him to take off his expensive suit first.
Beautiful gossamer spread across the room like twin sails, see-through and magical. They weren’t feathered like angel wings or hairy like a bat’s. They were coated in translucent scales, sparkling and magical.
“Do you want me to transform the rest of the way?” he asked.
“No.” She stroked the feather-soft skin. “Your wings are amazing. I didn’t get a good look yesterday because of the fire. And before that, you wouldn’t show me.”
“They bruise easily and only give a small increase in speed, so males do not often reveal them. And they are sensitive. Your touch feel
s like… I can’t describe.” He shuddered.
She felt the same way.
Everything about Mal was beautiful. How could someone amazing like him love someone ordinary like her? But he did, and she finally believed it. She saw the love in his eyes and felt the matching emotion growing in her heart.
She left the fragile wings and stroked the hard muscles of his back to his tapered waist. Here, she didn’t have to be careful. She grabbed a hunk of his gorgeous backside. “Make us one.”
He pressed his hard length into her slick channel. His cock filled her deliciously. They united in a primal way. It was so good. He grunted and thrust sweetly. Only he existed in the world. She tangled her legs around his, urging him faster.
His wings seemed to echo her hunger, heightening his groans and taking her to new peaks of desire.
He slid an arm around the small of her back and tilted her hips to take him deep. She arched. He thrust into her secret spot and she saw the stars.
“You are mine.” He growled. His body owned hers, wringing incredible pleasure from her. “Mine!”
And he was hers too. She clenched her thighs around his waist and rode him to the breaking point. Passion burst out and tingled with soul shattering release. He felt her climax and roared his own. Together, they created life once more.
She dropped to the bed, satisfied and flat. He floated on top of her, pressing her into the bed, and stroked her cheek.
The room came back into focus. Cheryl noticed one difference. “Your wings are gone.”
“They get in the way.” He eased free of her and sat up.
She sat up as well. “You shredded your wedding tux. You’ll have to speak your vows shirtless.”
“I can do that. Come here.” He swung her onto the chair next to the roses and champagne-like green bottle.
She giggled and reached for the flutes. Was that sparkling cider? “I thought this would be tomorrow’s wake up.”
“I can do it again.” He found his abandoned trousers, fished in the pocket, and emerged with a small, black box. Returning to her, he knelt. “Cheryl.”
“You’re proposing?” she squeaked. “On our wedding day?”
“It’s better late than never.”
She didn’t know whether to jump up and down or punch him. “Who told you that?”
