How to Love Your Dragon

by Lexxie Couper

  Sucking in shallow breath after shallow breath, Ryan balled his hands into fists. Finally she was as rocked by the mating fire as he was.

  For some reason, he felt less unsettled now.

  “It packs a kick, doesn’t it?” he breathed, his pulse wild.

  She stared at him. The scent of her pleasure radiated from her like sweet heat. If they didn’t get out of the bar soon, things were going to get crazy.

  “Who knew?” he continued, trying for a chuckle.

  She blinked. And then shook her head, as if trying to clear it.

  “Let’s go to the alley now,” she said, drawing closer to him once more. She didn’t, however, touch him again. He understood. If she did, he suspected they’d both be dragons within a heartbeat.

  “We’ve got twelve hours, gorgeous,” he said, risking his sanity and control by leaning toward her a little. “We don’t need to resort to filthy fucking in a dirty alley.”

  A frown pulled at her eyebrows, there and gone just as quickly. “Come out back with me, draco,” she pleaded. The title—ancient Latin for dragon—slipped from her in a husky breath. A playful grin curled her lips, her eyes smoldered with open lust. “I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.”

  It was Ryan’s turn to frown. He’d never imagined what meeting his Fire Mate would be like, but he sure as hell assumed it wouldn’t be so odd.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, searching her eyes for…something.

  Something wasn’t gelling. Something felt…wrong.

  “Come out back with me,” she repeated, returning her fingers to his thigh and trailing them upwards. Higher. Higher.

  Her fingertips skimmed the engorged bulge of Ryan’s trapped erection and an eruption of searing need engulfed him.

  Took control of him.

  Possessed him.

  With a growl that wasn’t even close to human, he snagged a fistful of her thick sable bob and crushed her lips with his.

  She kissed him back.

  There was nothing uncertain or hesitant about it. Her tongue delved into Ryan’s mouth with arrogant purpose, capturing his with sublime skill. Her hands smoothed up his chest, over his nipples—now hard points of flesh under his shirt—around the back of his neck to tangle in the hair at his nape. She held his head still and made love to his mouth with her tongue, a fierce joining Ryan could neither fight nor deny.

  Every molecule in his body burned, a thrumming heat that radiated from his cock up through the pit of his belly into his chest. He grabbed her hips and hauled her up to stand in the V of his spread thighs, driving his hips to hers, letting her feel his response as he once more took command of the kiss.

  She whimpered into his mouth, a soft sound that sent shards of scalding lust into Ryan’s core. He ravished her lips, feasting on them, demanding more from her. And she gave it, pressing the curve of her sex to his straining erection, raking one hand down from his hair, over his chest to wriggle between their bodies until her fingers found his fly.

  Holy fuck, she’s going to—

  Ryan pulled away from her. Gasping, he wrapped his fingers around her biceps and tore his lips from hers.

  They had to get out of here. Now.

  Before it was too late to stop what had already begun.

  “I think it’s time to take this elsewhere, draco.”

  Ryan stared down into her face, his body burning. Every nerve ending scorched and crackled with heat. He sucked in a slow breath, knowing his nostrils flared. His cock throbbed in his jeans so hard, agonizing rapture filled its rigid, constrained length.

  The fire…the mating fire…

  “Come with me.” The woman closed her fingers around his wrist and, without waiting for his response, turned away. She pulled him off his stool and walked across the dance floor, tugging him along behind her.

  He went. Willingly. He couldn’t fight the mating fire anymore. There was no point. They were in it, engulfed by its flames, and they were horny. So freaking horny. And when a dragon was horny, a dragon fucked.

  The cool Chicago night air hit him fast, wrapped around him like a shroud. He blinked, squinting at the darkness. An alley. They were in the alley. Behind the club. When had they walked through the door? He didn’t remember. He only remembered the woman pulling him from the—

  Hot lips found his, the woman’s hands tearing his shirt from his jeans. Her tongue delved into his mouth, stroking his as her fingers scored lines over his torso. She pinched at his nipples, and he groaned into her mouth, her greedy lust firing his own into action.

  Without thought, he hooked his fingers in the neckline of her shirt and tore it open, capturing her breasts with his hands. She arched into his touch, fisting her hands in his hair, her head thrown back, her lips parted.

  He claimed the smooth column of her throat with his lips, his teeth. She whimpered, rolling her hips against his. The heat of her sex radiated into Ryan’s engorged cock, flooding his balls with dire urgency.

  Fuck her…fuck her…claim her…

  The feverish thought seared through his head. He sucked hard on her flesh, seeking the hemline of her miniskirt with a desperate hand. He had to be inside her. Now.

  She shifted her position, just enough to let his fingers find their target. He shoved his hand between the supple leather of her skirt and the hot velvet of her inner thigh, wriggling it higher, higher, until the tips of his fingers found her moist folds.

  He let out a raw groan. She wore no underpants. And she was free of pubic hair.

  “Oh fuck yes,” she rasped, her nails scraping at his shoulders. “That’s it, draco. That’s it.”

  The words, the title, flayed at his senses. He sucked in a sharp breath, the scent of her lust streaming into his being. He could smell her juices, taste their scent as they flowed through his nose and down the back of his throat, a distinct honeyed sulfur that all female dragons exuded. His cock pulsed, his blood roared in his ears. A million pinpricks of molten heat razed his flesh, his cells. Deep within, his dragon roared. Eager for freedom. Impatient for fulfillment.

  “Fuck me, draco,” she continued, thrusting her hips upward until his fingertips dipped into her sodden pussy. “Fuck me with your fingers, then your cock. Claim me, take me, use me, and then take wing for me and fly me to the moon.”

  The whispered words lashed at Ryan. His head spun. He shoved his hand higher up her spread thighs and drove two fingers deep into her pussy. It was tight and hot and wet and he let out a growl, a sound far less human than it should be.

  And louder than any human could ever make.

  The sound of a dragon about to mate. About to—

  Something sharp sliced across the skin on the right side of his neck.

  He flung himself backward, primitive instinct taking control of his movement as searing pain filled his throat. He snapped his stare to the woman’s face, his blood turning to ice at the site of terrorized shock in her eyes.

  And the crossbow bolt embedded in the brick wall beside her head.

  “Fuck!”

  The muttered curse behind him had Ryan spinning around. A man stood a few feet inside the mouth of the alley, his face etched with frantic frustration as he fought to cock a bolt in the ornate silver crossbow in his hands.

  Cold rage sank into Ryan’s gut. He recognized the crossbow. It was the kind used by the Extraho Venator.

  Dragon hunters.

  A low snarl tore at his throat. He bunched his fists, his stare locked on the man.

  Why the second bolt had misfired, Ryan didn’t know. Didn’t care. All that was important now was how slowly he was going to make the scum hunter suffer. And for how—

  Fingers of steel wrapped around his biceps, digging into his muscle. “Come on, draco,” the woman—his Fire Mate—ground out, tugging on his arm. “We’ve got to go.”

  He shook her off, or tried to. He wasn’t running. Not from an Extraho Venator. Not from a cowardly human who hunted dragons for the sport of killing and gloating righ
ts.

  He wasn’t running. He was going to—

  The deafening squeal of a police siren cut the thought dead. Blue and red lights flashed at the mouth of the alley, painting the dark walls with bursts of light. A car door opened, followed by another.

  The Extraho Venator tossed a look over his shoulder, and then turned a harried sneer toward Ryan. “Kill you later, dragon,” he called, a second before launching himself at the closest fire escape and scaling the stairs up into the blackness of night.

  Ryan lunged after him, only to be stopped by his Fire Mate’s fingers on his arm, like talons of steel in his flesh.

  “We have to go, draco.” She pulled hard on his arm, her voice strained, her accent thick. “Now!”

  He swung back to her, the burning heat of the mating fire surging through him as his stare found her worried eyes.

  “Please?” She tugged at his arm once more.

  It was the plaintive fear in her voice that moved his feet. He turned from the flashing blue and red lights and, threading his fingers through those of his destined mate, sprinted down the alleyway. Away from the cops. Away from the Extraho Venator.

  And with every pounding step, he swore to beat the shit out of Tyson when he got home. The mating fire was nothing like his brother had described. Nothing.

  It was intoxicating.

  Insane.

  And dangerous. Very dangerous.

  Chapter 2

  “Here. We can stop here.” Deanne Roe squeezed the Australian’s fingers, halting his phenomenal speed. He stood motionless, casting the empty, treed park they now stood in the middle of a slow inspection.

  His light gray eyes turned to her, his expression guarded. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, ignoring the way her pussy contracted when he looked at her. Trying to, at least. It was difficult. For one thing, the memory of the kiss he’d given her back in the alley wouldn’t go away. It was the most intense, surreal, indescribable kiss of her life. In fact, it was the most intense, surreal, indescribable anything of her life, and that was saying something.

  From the second she’d seen him in the bar, her body seemed to smolder with a burning heat. That heat grew hotter as she approached him, had turned almost unbearable when she sat on the stool beside him, had stolen her breath when he’d looked at her.

  But when she’d touched him…holy fuck, it was like she was on fire. Fire. As if she was engulfed in pleasurable flames that licked over her limbs, between her thighs, over her nipples…

  It had unsettled her in the bar, but she couldn’t stop wanting to touch him. It had been unfathomable, but undeniable. To say she was drawn to him, aroused by him, sexually attracted to him, was the understatement of the millennia. Her unexpected and thoroughly unnerving reaction to him had messed with her plans. And her head.

  She hadn’t intended to let him kiss her.

  She sure as shit hadn’t planned to let it go beyond a kiss in the alley. A kiss had been all that was needed to nudge the Australian to where she’d needed him to be.

  But when their lips had touched, when his tongue had stroked over hers, when his thumb had brushed her nipple, her plans had somehow gone to hell.

  Hot, burning hell.

  Like her body was on fire.

  On fire and lusting for more.

  So much more.

  Dragging him away from the alley hadn’t changed that. Only intensified it.

  Tearing her gaze from his, she knotted her torn shirt between her breasts and scanned the dark park around them, her heart racing. If she kept looking at him, she’d fling herself into his arms and beg him to fuck her right there and then.

  That was something she couldn’t do. God, had Julian witnessed her debauchery? What would he think? Especially seeing as she’d also fled the alley without her—

  “Answers.”

  The Australian’s voice jerked her away from the worrying thought and shattered her flustered calm. She frowned at the shadows around them, wondering if Julian was out there. Better to wonder that than to look at the Australian beside her.

  But he’s so damn nice to look at…

  “I want answers.” He moved to stand directly in front of her, his hands wrapping her upper arms. “Why did you want to get me into that alley so badly?”

  Deanne shook her head. “I just…” She stopped, swallowing. The need to wrap her legs around his hips and impale herself on his cock burned through her, so powerful she could barely think.

  What the fuck was going on? Had he drugged her somehow? Was it some kind of fucked-up dragon magic? She’d never heard of this kind of reaction to a dragon. And if he had drugged her or enchanted her, how did she—

  “Tell me,” he growled, his fingers hard on her arms. “You were desperate to get me out there. Did you know that Extraho Venator was there, waiting?”

  At the title, an icy finger of steel slipped up Deanne’s spine. It didn’t abate the fever ravishing her, but it cleared her head…a little. “The dude with the crossbow? Of course not,” she snarled, trying to shake his grip from her arms. She failed. He didn’t let her go. Nor did he stop staring into her eyes.

  She wished to hell he would. It was hard to fight whatever he’d done to her while he was studying her with such open lust.

  Crap, she needed to get away from him. Just for a few moments. Just to clear her head and regain her focus. Who knew where Julian was right now? Hopefully nowhere near here. Maybe he was dealing with the dick with the faulty crossbow.

  Squirming in the Australian’s grip, she tried to step away from him. “I need…”

  His fingers tightened harder around her upper arms. “Why did you lure me out into the alley? I don’t give a rat’s arse if you are my Fire Mate, I want to know what’s going on!”

  Deanne frowned. Her belly fluttered. The need to tangle her fingers in his shaggy russet-brown hair and take possession of his mouth with hers, to press her body to his and burn up in their pleasure, intensified. “Fire Mate?” she said. Crap, why did she sound so panty and breathy? “I don’t know…”

  She stopped, licking her dry lips as her stare moved to his mouth. She needed to feel his tongue sliding over hers again. Now. She needed…

  She destroyed the minute distance between them and captured his mouth with hers.

  A groan rumbled in his chest, one not at all human.

  Hot ribbons of desire and rapture threaded through Deanne, combining with her delight. She had no idea what he was doing to her, but if she could keep her head long enough while it was happening, maybe she could get him to shift and then she could…

  His fingers dug into her arms with brutal strength a heartbeat before he tore his lips from hers. “Enough,” he snarled, glaring down at her. Tall. He was so tall. And so, so fucking hot.

  Her pussy contracted, squeezing a cock that wasn’t there. She stepped toward him again, aching for his touch.

  Fury flared in his eyes, warring with the raw hunger she saw in their light depths. “No more kissing,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “No fucking, no mating, no anything until you tell me what’s going on. We were just attacked by an Extraho Venator. You’re a dragon. Behave like one for a fucking second and think about that.”

  Deanne blinked. Another chilly finger traced up her spine. “Dragon?” She shook her head, staring at him. In her chest, her heart thumped like a freaking cannon. “I’m not a dragon. I’m a Rider, that’s all.”

  Disbelief guttered the sexual hunger in his eyes. For a split second. “A Rider? A dragon groupie?” His jaw clenched as he raked his gaze over her from top to bottom. As before, a pleasurable heat consumed her, pooling between her thighs and stealing her ability to breathe.

  How was he doing this to her? And how did she stop him without—

  “Bullshit.”

  His blunt voice snatched a gasp from her lips.

  “For starters,” he went on, his stare once again holding hers, “the so-called Riders rarely survive a sexual encounter
with a dragon long enough to give themselves a title. And secondly, no human, no matter how into dragons she might be, smells like you.”

  “It’s true.” Deanne jutted out her chin as she struggled to fight the hunger overwhelming her. She wasn’t scared of him. She’d never been scared of a dragon shifter. It was one of the few things Julian praised her for. And one of the reasons she was so revered.

  Oh, but you’ve never come face to face with a dragon like this one, have you, Roe?

  His nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed. He drew closer to her, his head lowering to an inch from her face. “Bull. Shit.”

  “I could tell what you were when I first walked into the bar.” She barely resisted the overwhelming urge—no, the craving—to close the small distance between their faces and capture his mouth with hers. “Why else do you think I walked over to you? Because I wanted to have a conversation? Because I wanted to hear you say g’day and crikey?” She barked out a laugh, fighting to stay motionless. “No. I wanted to be fucked by a dragon.”

  His eyes flickered, an unreadable silver light that sent liquid tension straight to the junction of her thighs. “And you just happen to exude the same pheromones as a female dragon? What? Did you buy it by the bottle on eBay?”

  His accent—very Australian, very unsettling—grew thicker with each sarcastic word. As did the undeniably rigid length of his cock pressing against her belly. She stared up at him, her heart thumping fast in her throat. Pheromones? What the hell was he talking about?

  “You’re mistaken,” she insisted, shaking her head. God, why did her voice sound so breathless? She was never breathless. Never unsettled. She’d been interacting with dragons her whole adult life. Longer. Since she was a young teenager. Since her father had introduced her to the world of dragon shifters. She knew everything there was to know, everything that had to be done.

  And yet, the pheromones? Why didn’t she know about the pheromones? Why hadn’t Julian told her about them? And what the hell was a Fire Mate? It sounded important. He’d called her that. Surely she should know what a Fire Mate was. Surely her father should have mentioned it. Why didn’t she know about Fire Mates?