“Mrs. Beaumont?” he said again, needing the elderly woman to look at him. Her grief was only upsetting her dog. Rick could feel the increasing stress flowing from the beagle in waves. “I need you to go inside and bring me some clean towels and warm water. Not boiling, but warm. Can you do that please, Mrs. Beaumont?”
Mrs. Beaumont’s stare jerked back to Rick. A second wave of her grief washed over him, just as potent. “Y-yes, I can do that.”
He gave her another warm smile. “Remember, Barney will be okay. I promise.”
The elderly woman was on her feet and rushing to her open front door before Rick could finish reassuring her. But that was okay. That was exactly what he wanted.
Lifting his head, he gave the police officer standing to his right a long, steady look. Once again his body reacted to her presence, to her stunning green eyes, a whirl of debauched images assaulting him. Suggesting things he ached to do. But only for a moment, and then the dog’s pain welled through him again and the surreal pull on his body faded. Almost gone.
Almost.
He looked from Barney back to the cop. “I need you to get my bag from behind the passenger seat in my truck.”
She frowned—for all of a second—and then turned and ran to his pickup.
Rick returned his attention to Barney, running his hands over the dog’s body. Low whines played at his senses, telling him the animal was growing weaker. He needed to get him off the fence ASAP before his own weight tore the flesh wider. Unfortunately, the spike had come close to piercing his gut, and judging by the color of the blood oozing from the puncture wound, there was a real risk of the small intestine rupturing with any movement.
Repositioning himself until he was directly in front of the dog, Rick cupped Barney’s head in his hands, rubbing his forehead lightly against the beagle’s. “It’s going to hurt, mate. I can’t tell you it’s not, but I’ll make it quick and I’ll make it better as soon as I get you down, okay?”
Barney’s tongue, worryingly dry, licked at Rick’s chin.
He smiled, closing his eyes and keeping his forehead against the distressed dog’s for a heartbeat longer, letting Barney feel his calm. His promise.
His power.
Barely another heartbeat later, the cop was beside him again, his bag—the emergency kit he always carried in his pickup—in her hands. She lowered to a crouch beside him, her green eyes serious, her body tense. “What do you need me to do?”
Her soft voice caressed Rick’s senses and, once again, that surreal, hyper-sensual awareness of her rippled through him, but it was tempered this time, as if his body (or hers?) knew now was not the time. Instead of insane lust, what flowed through him was a warm feeling of completeness that, in Rick’s opinion, made no bloody sense at all.
Pushing aside the unexpected sensation, he gave her a quick look. “I need to remove Barney from the fence and I need to do it quickly. I need you to stem the flow of blood from the wound as I pull him from the spike.”
She frowned. “The towels? Mrs. Beaumont—”
Rick shook his head. “Is better inside. This isn’t going to be easy for anyone to see, let alone her. Her heart is too entwined with her dog’s to experience it.” He returned his attention to Barney, changing his position again until his hands were all but supporting the dog’s weight. “There’s sterilized gauze in the bag. You’ll need a lot, I’m afraid.”
He heard his cop move, a distant part of his mind noting how, somewhere between being pulled over and now, she’d become “his” cop. How she’d gone from a sexy woman in a uniform he’d considered flirting with to the woman about to help him do what he was born to do, and he didn’t doubt in the slightest she could. His gut told him his cop, whoever she was, was exactly where she was meant to be—by his side.
And that made not one iota of sense at all.
He pressed his forehead to Barney’s for the last time, closed his eyes and drew in all the positive energy around him, pulling it from every living thing he could. Drawing it in, channeling it, letting it flow through him into Barney. Giving the dog the healing energy and ancient power of the Earth. He didn’t know how he did it. He never did. It was just the way it was and he didn’t question it.
Why would he?
“My God…how are you doing this?”
The whispered gasp beside Rick sent a shard of something tight to his core. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking at his cop. She stood at Barney’s side, her hands full with wadded strips of gauze, her eyes wide, her expression one of utter, enrapt awe.
Doing what? he wanted to ask. But he couldn’t.
The second their stares connected, a bolt of pure energy scored through Rick, as if the sun had set fire to his soul. And then, without thought or hesitation, his blood boiling, his nerve-endings sizzling, his heart hammering, he straightened his knees, pressed his palms to Barney’s body and slid the dog from the fence spike.
*
Kenna Mackay couldn’t believe she was on fire. Now, of all times, every molecule in her body was at the incineration point.
Is this why you didn’t call for backup?
She stared at the serious man lifting the poor dog from the fence. A man who, only a short while ago, had been roguishly, worryingly sexy as he’d tried to flirt his way out of a ticket—and felt her entire existence burn hotter still.
And the only way that could be happening was if part of her existence, the part she’d denied for so long, was recognizing her destined mate. And there wasn’t a hope in hell that was—
“The gauze, Officer. Now.”
Kenna blinked, numb shock smacking into her. The man’s blue gaze flicked from her to the dog and back, his expression both calm and determined.
Oh hell, the dog.
She leaped forward, pressing the folded strips of gauze to the torn wound in the beagle’s left side. Hot blood flowed from the hole in the dog’s body, staining the gauze red with horrific speed. But the animal didn’t make a sound, nor fight the man sliding him from the fence. In fact, the dog gazed at him, something close to utter trust in his beautiful brown eyes as the spike quickly exited his body.
Kenna had never seen anything like it.
Without hesitation, she scooped her arm under the beagle and pressed her other hand to the wound, now freshly exposed. For a few seconds she held the dog’s entire weight, her stare jerking between the surreally calm animal and the man she’d chased to this very spot, and then said man wrapped his arms around the dog, placed his hands over hers and said, “I’ve got him.”
But the words didn’t make it to her ears. Not when the roaring of her blood was so deafening. Not when, at the very instant he touched her, she was engulfed in heat so incinerating the only sense left to her was sight.
She gaped at him, her heart hammering its way into her throat, her mouth, her temple.
Good Lord, her Fire Mate was touching her.
No. It’s not happening. I refuse to acknowledge—
“Honey, I know you’re feeling whatever the fuck is happening between us as well, but you’ve got to let go of Barney now so I can save his life.”
The words, uttered in a low murmur, made her blink. Her stomach clenched. No, her sex clenched. No, it was her chest, her heart. Her ass. Her wings…
Wings? Wings? What the hell is going on?
Kenna staggered back a step, sliding her hands from beneath his, her stare still locked with the stranger’s.
And the fire consuming her abated. A little.
The man’s lips curled in a loose smile, two dimples creasing either side of his mouth, his face turning from handsomely serious to blow-your-mind gorgeous. “We’ll talk about that later,” he said, curling his arms until he cradled the beagle against a chest Kenna only now noticed was broad and undeniably well sculpted. “But first…”
He turned from her and lowered the dog to the ground, the animal far calmer than he should be, given he’d just been impaled by a fence.
And yet e
ven that fuck-with-your-head fact wasn’t important. Not now. Not when, after forty-two years of constant, tenacious suppression, the dragon deep inside her was surging to awareness. The very aroused dragon.
God save her. It was mating time.
Chapter 2
Three hours later, standing in the waiting room of Dr. Rick Hayes’ veterinarian practice, Kenna watched Mrs. Beaumont cover Rick’s face in kisses and barely suppressed the urge to rip out the sweet, fragile, grateful old woman’s throat.
The mating fire scorched Kenna’s body, pumping through her heart and pulsing in the muscles of her sex. She ground her teeth, the sight of Mrs. Beaumont’s lips connecting with a smiling Rick’s cheek, lips and forehead awakening a base, irrational and thoroughly territorial jealousy.
Damn, she was in trouble.
How many decades had passed since she’d behaved like a dragon shifter? How many? Enough to almost forget the ridiculous, animalistic carrying-on of her kind. Enough to almost forget how damn embarrassing the primal, bestial traits of her other existence were.
Enough to almost forget she was a dragon shifter.
Even when Tyson Conley, Sydney’s oldest and most respected dragon shifter, stupidly blew his cover a few months back, Kenna had remained detached. The city’s shifters had rallied together, pooling their considerable resources to squash the media coverage, effectively killing the exposure of their kind. Who knew there were editor-in-chief dragons at both leading newspapers? And even the clips that kept popping up on YouTube of a shadowy dragon silhouette soaring into the night sky were regularly removed from the net within twenty-four hours.
By their very nature, dragon shifters were solitary creatures, but when it came to protecting their secrets they banded together like steel.
But Kenna kept her distance. If she stayed away from dragons, if she denied the dragon inside her, then she wouldn’t be a target for the Extraho Venator. And if she wasn’t a target for the Extraho Venator, those damn dragon hunters wouldn’t be able to butcher her.
Like they had her twin sister, forty-two years ago.
The grim thought punched into her, tempering the dangerous jealousy toward Mrs. Beaumont. But not the raging heat simmering beneath Kenna’s skin.
Curse it, what the hell was she doing, experiencing the mating fire?
She slid her stare to the vet happily bathing in the old woman’s sobbing gratitude. Nothing about him hinted at being a dragon, but he had to be. It was the only explanation for the ancient magic she’d felt surging through him when he’d tended to the beagle on Mrs. Beaumont’s fence.
Not to mention the fact the second she’d laid eyes on him, every nerve ending in her body had burst into scorching fire. God save her, she’d almost climbed into his pickup and onto his lap the moment he’d lowered the driver’s-side window and looked at her with those flirting blue eyes of his. Eyes, she couldn’t help but noticing, now doing a very fine job of flirting with Mrs. Beaumont.
“Thank you, Doctor,” the old biddy gushed, her hands cupping Rick’s square jaw, open adoration on her wrinkled face. “Thank you so much again for saving Barney!”
Rick laughed, pressing his palms to Mrs. Beaumont’s hands to gently lower them. “No thank yous required. Really.” He smiled, flashing twin dimples, his eyes sparkling with joyous mirth. Kenna’s sex contracted at the sight. Damn it, he was cute. Cute and dangerous. Tall and rangy, with a latent strength in his sinewy, broad-shouldered form, lips that promised all sorts of wickedness, scruffy blond hair that was the very definition of bedhead—all draped in a cocky arrogance that made her pulse quicken and her pussy clench.
She had to get away from him before she lost control.
So why are you still here? Why did you follow him when he brought Barney and the near-hysterical Mrs. Beaumont back to his practice? Your shift was almost over. You could have gone home, but what did you do? Told Dispatch you were helping with an animal emergency. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. Why did you stay while he operated on the dog? Why didn’t you go then, hmm?
Because she had to issue him a speeding ticket and it would have been distasteful to do so when the dog’s life was still hanging in the balance.
That’s bullshit, Kenna Mackay, and you know it.
Kenna bit back a growl, the sound far too bestial for her liking. It was bullshit. Speeding tickets and official police procedure had nothing to do with it. He’d barely been breaking the speed limit but her gut told her to stop him. At least, she’d thought it was her gut. Now she had to wonder.
And you never called for backup. Despite a ten-minute pursuit, you never called for backup. Why? Because you didn’t want anyone to come between you? Because you wanted him all for yourself? Because the mating fire had taken control of your damn senses?
Her sister had experienced the mating fire, had in fact bonded to her Fire Mate three months before she was slaughtered. Kenna remembered the way Ciara behaved—as if all control and inhibition had been stripped from her. As if her mind and body weren’t her own.
Kenna didn’t even want to acknowledge the fire. Especially if it meant succumbing to her dragon side.
Especially if it meant succumbing to Rick Hayes.
She didn’t succumb to anyone. It wasn’t safe. Her sister had discovered th—
“…without you, Officer Mackay.”
Kenna started. The sound of Mrs. Beaumont weeping her name jerked her away from dark thoughts a second before soft hands pressed to her cheeks and even softer lips were smacking against her cheek.
Oh God, the sweet old thing was kissing her.
“Thank you, Officer,” Mrs. Beaumont gushed, pulling away just enough to stare at Kenna with the same adoration she’d bestowed on Rick. “If you weren’t there to help Dr. Hayes, I don’t know…” She hiccupped a sob. “Barney may not have made it.”
Kenna opened her mouth, certain she should say something. Nothing came out.
It didn’t seem to matter to Mrs. Beaumont, however. The elderly woman flung her arms around Kenna, squeezing her in a surprisingly crushing hug, all the while thanking her for helping Dr. Hayes save her beloved Barney. Promising Kenna she would bring Barney to visit her at the station when Dr. Hayes said it was okay for him to come home. “And I will make you scones! Spicy pumpkin ones. To say thank you some more. You and Dr. Hayes can come for afternoon tea and…”
Whatever she said next, Kenna didn’t hear it. Because at that very moment, Kenna made the mistake of turning her gaze to Rick.
He was watching her.
Their eyes connected and raw lust roared through her, a surging force of heat that obliterated anything and everything else. She knew an old lady was hugging her, thanking her, but all she could comprehend was the incomprehensible desire to strip naked, throw herself at Rick and fuck him until she ignited.
And by the unmistakable hunger in Rick’s stare, that desire was mutual.
Get away from him, Kenna. Get away. Before it’s too late and you—
Inside her, deep in the prison of her soul, her dragon screeched. Crying for release. Begging for freedom.
Calling to her Fire Mate.
* * * *
Rick had no idea what was going on. None. He was pretty sure he’d saved Barney. That would explain the profusely grateful Mrs. Beaumont currently squeezing Officer Be-Still-My-Beating-Heart. He must’ve tapped into the same mysterious force he always did, in order to complete Barney’s surgery. That would explain the familiar tingling in his gut and chest. But it was all a blur.
When had he driven back to his clinic? No idea. When had he operated? Who knew?
If he had to put his current state of mind into words, the best he could come up with was “horny beyond belief” and even that didn’t come close. There was a disgusted part of his mind that couldn’t help but wonder if he’d sported a semi throughout Barney’s surgery, he was that turned-on.
Had he really thought he’d been aroused by Officer Mackay back on the road? A schoolyard
crush compared to what he experienced now. How in the hell he managed to stand still and let Mrs. Beaumont hug her was beyond him.
How he stopped himself from throwing the sweet old beagle owner from his clinic, along with his currently bemused receptionist, before locking the door and doing everything to Officer Mackay he’d been aching to do since first making eye contact with her wasn’t just beyond him. It was beyond plausibility.
Hell, he didn’t even know the officer’s first name yet and he was ready to pump her full of his seed—and that was an entirely messed-up thought. He never fucked without a condom but the thought of taking Officer Mackay with a thin film of latex separating them…nope. Not possible. Not doable. Not at all.
He swallowed, his dick throbbing. Damn it, if he didn’t know better, he’d say he’d been drugged. It wasn’t humanly possible to be this turned-on.
But he was. And if he didn’t get Mrs. Beaumont and Rose out of his clinic soon, they’d bear witness to his totally uncouth seduction of Officer Mackay. And by uncouth seduction, he meant begging her on his knees to let him fuck her.
Because that’s what he was going to do. As soon as they were alone. It was either that, or jerk himself off so hard he may very well rip off his own dick.
A low moan tickled his ears…or was it a loud roar in his head? Both? He stared at the police officer being hugged by Mrs. Beaumont. Did she make the sound?
Yes. She’s calling to you.
The tingling in Rick’s stomach and chest—a leftover from whatever it was he did when connecting with animals—intensified. It razed through him, like a wave of charged energy unlike any he’d experienced. The longer he gazed at Officer Mackay, the more the sensation consumed him.
Connected. It’s all connected, Yorick. You, the woman, the tingle, the lust, the need, the power…
Christ, the power. It was the very power he’d been tapping into since childhood, that which made what he did—healing, caring, communing with the creatures of this earth—so much easier. And yet it was more. It twisted through his very existence, a surge of unfathomable magic so ancient he could taste the primordial mist of its birth. And the more he looked at Officer Mackay, the more potent, the more entwined with her it became.
How to Love Your Dragon Page 2
