by Lolita Lopez
“My last name isn’t Wyvern. It’s just a name I picked years ago.” He got up for a glass of water and brought Cora a can of soda and a glass. The tab snapped and the soda fizzed as it spilled into her cup. He returned to his seat and took a sip. “Do you know what a wyvern is?”
“It’s one of those things on those old family flags, right? Like a snake with wings,” she said uncertainly.
He nodded. “Close enough.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“More than you probably want to know,” he grumbled. “Every three years, I go through a phase. It’s violent and dangerous and I lose control. That cell in the basement is the only thing that keeps me from harming others.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Every three years?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve gone through this before?”
“Yes. Hundreds of times.”
“That would mean you’re—”
“Substantially older than I look.” Stig picked up his fork and tucked into his dinner. “If you want proof, I’ll show you later.”
“I do.”
Stig sensed Cora was trying to wrap her mind around his brief yet cryptic explanation. She hadn’t accused him of being crazy or run from the house. So far, so good. He figured breaking the news about his immortality was the best way to ease her into the truth. The dragon business could wait.
He decided a change of topic was needed and gestured to his plate. “This is good. Not that I’m surprised,” he added with a smile. “You should think about opening a restaurant.”
Cora snorted. “Really, Stig? How do we go from you trying to convince me that you’re, like, some immortal Jekyll and Hyde to talking about me opening a restaurant?” She twirled her fork between her fingers. “Besides, restaurants are hard work.”
He grinned at her willingness to go with it. “And a bakery isn’t?”
“It’s different. I know the ins and outs of running a bakery. A restaurant? Not so much.”
“You will reopen your bakery, right?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure how or where.” A look of shame clouded her face. “My insurance agent isn’t sure the policy will pay since I’m kind of a criminal. I mean, that’s if I don’t end up in the pen.”
“You’re not going to prison, Cora. I won’t let that happen.” Stig hadn’t considered the effect her poor choices would have on her ability to rebuild. She’d made a mistake but didn’t deserve to be punished forever. “I’ll loan you the money to start over if the policy doesn’t pay.”
She squirmed in her seat. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Stig. Money between friends has a way of turning ugly.”
“We’ll make it work.”
Cora didn’t fight him on the issue. She ate in silence. He could almost hear the turning gears as she processed their bizarre conversation. Whether she believed him was still to be determined.
They finished dinner and cleaned up the kitchen together. Tense silence stretched between them. Stig eyed the window and gauged how much time he had until the change. Knowing the time was coming, he reached for Cora’s hand. She stiffened at his touch but he kept hold. “Come with me.”
Her fingers relaxed in his. “Okay.”
Stig led her upstairs to his bedroom. He’d imagined taking Cora to his room before but never under these circumstances. It seemed almost anticlimactic to sit her down on the side of his bed. She looked so young and fragile with her hands clamped between her knees. He hated himself for what he was about to do. In just a few moments, he’d shatter everything she’d ever believed to be true.
“I don’t know why I’ve kept all of these things.” Stig removed a keychain from his bedside drawer and unlocked the door to the corner closet. He dragged a large trunk to the edge of the bed. He handed Cora the keychain. “The skeleton key opens this trunk.”
She took the keychain and stared at it. “What’s inside the trunk?”
“My history.” Stig cupped her cheek as he bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to lock myself in the basement. Promise me you’ll stay out of there tonight.”
She gulped and bobbed her chin. “I will.”
“When you’re done, close the lid on the trunk. I’ll put it back tomorrow.”
“And the key?” She lifted the keychain he’d never let anyone else but himself touch until now.
“You keep it. I trusted you with my house key. I trust you with this one, too.” His fingertips trailed along her jaw. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Stig cast one lingering glance at Cora before leaving his room and rushing downstairs. The sooner he was in chains tonight the better.
* * *
Cora turned the keychain over in her hand. Everything Stig had told her at dinner seemed so implausible. He’d insinuated he’d been alive for quite a long time. And what was all that business about going through violent phases?
Apparently the answers to those questions rested within the antique trunk. With great trepidation, she stuck the skeleton key in the lock. It clicked loudly as the tumblers spun. She lifted the heavy lid and gazed down at the contents.
There were yellowing photos and official-looking papers on the top. Layer by layer, she dug through his mementos. Cora uncovered military commendations and medals from Vietnam and World War II. Immigration paperwork from Ellis Island in 1893 showed him as a Norwegian male aged thirty-four under the name of Stigandr Wyvern. There were photos and daguerreotypes of Stig throughout various eras. He looked so strange in fashions of the Edwardian and Victorian ages. Farther down, Cora uncovered painted portraits and pamphlets from the Regency era.
Cora stopped when she found bits and pieces from the sixteenth century. The more she dug, the more bewildered she grew. Her brain screamed that all of this was impossible. There was no way a person could live for six or seven centuries and yet the proof was there in black and white.
Surrounded by Stig’s history, Cora tried to reconcile all this evidence with the reality she’d lived in her entire life. It wasn’t possible for a human being to live for hundreds of years. Cora had always been a big fan of paranormal romances and urban fantasy novels. The heroines of those stories always seemed to deal with the discovery of their lover’s supernatural existence with such grace. But she felt like running out to her car and racing away from the house as fast as the car would go. She’d stepped into some bizarre reality where suddenly things that were fantastic and fictional were a possibility.
So what did that make Stig? Vampire? Werewolf? Some other kind of creature she’d never heard of in her entire life? And what about the dream last night? Was that Stig’s doing? Was he the shadowed man?
Cora rubbed her face in both hands. This was all so complicated. Had Hector known about Stig’s secret? Would he have told her? She didn’t know. The bond they’d forged at war had seemed unbreakable. Perhaps these kinds of secrets fell within the purview of that bond.
What did she do now? Cora took a good look at the trunk and its contents. Everything had changed between them. It wasn’t as if they could just pretend none of this had ever happened. She would never forget what she’d seen. Where did they go from here?
She sensed the ball was in her court. If she packed up her things and left right now, Cora felt certain Stig would understand.
But she didn’t want to leave.
The realization that she really didn’t care what Stig was knocked her for a loop. Whatever his secrets, Cora wanted to uncover them, bring them into the light. Once everything was on the table, they could move forward. Whether they’d move forward as friends or lovers she didn’t know. Her hopes were pinned on the latter.
Cora carefully returned the antique items to the trunk and locked it. She gripped the keychain tightly and left his room.
Out in the hall she wavered uncertainly. It was too early to sleep but she wasn’t sure if she’d feel comfortable watching television in the living room while Stig was locked up in
a holding cell beneath her. But if they were going to make this work—and she had to believe Stig wouldn’t have told her about his immortality if he didn’t want her in his life—she needed to learn to deal with these “phases,” as he put it.
Her mind settled, Cora traipsed downstairs, got a drink of water, and found a cushy spot on the couch. She switched on the television and found an amusing reality show following a train-wreck celebrity as she navigated the dating waters. Although Cora tried to relax, it proved impossible. She kept listening for strange sounds and imagining all kinds of frightening scenarios.
Since Stig hadn’t fully explained what exactly these phases did to him, she imagined the very worst. Was this a Jekyll and Hyde kind of thing or something else entirely? She honestly didn’t know and that made it all the more difficult. Was the hell he endured down in that holding cell the price he paid for immortal life? Was it worth it?
Her mind swam. She couldn’t think straight. A headache started along the back of her head. She supposed her tight jaw didn’t help matters any. Maybe television wasn’t such a good idea tonight.
Cora switched off the flat screen and turned off all the lights downstairs. She trudged up to the guest room and changed into pajamas before heading across the hall to the bathroom for her nightly routine. Back in her room, she slipped into bed and hugged a pillow. She tried in vain to shut down her racing thoughts for the better part of an hour before exhaustion finally set in and dragged her into the depths of sleep.
Just as the night before, Cora experienced brilliantly vivid dreams. She swam in water so blue and so warm. She ran barefoot through the greenest, softest grass. She fell back onto a plush lavender-scented bed. The silken sheets were so smooth against her naked skin.
Warm hands grasped her ankles. Lips pressed kisses along her calves and traveled along the inner curve of her legs. She shivered as the mouth of her phantom lover inched closer to her sex. Hands grasped her inner thighs and shoved them wide. The tip of a pointed tongue probed her folds. She gasped at the delicious invasion.
Cora tried to reach down and touch her mystery lover’s head only to be stopped by the sudden appearance of silken bonds capturing her wrists and pinning them overhead. Excitement rippled along her spine. This was new and forbidden. The forced position of her arms thrust her breasts forward. Her nipples pulled tight and pebbled.
Warmth spread across her skin. Arousal coiled low and tight in her core. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the talented tongue flicking over her clitoris. The slow swirls sent tingling frissons through her belly. Her mystery lover sucked the swollen bud between his lips. Moaning, Cora arched her back and pulled against the silken bonds.
He released her clit and slid his tongue between her folds. It dipped into her opening and teased the sensitive skin there. One finger and then two followed his tongue. With the gentlest of thrusts, he worked Cora into a frenzy. His mouth settled over her clitoris again, that wonderful tongue giving her quite a lashing. Cora’s fingers curled into a tight fist as she pumped her hips and surrendered to the double stimulation of her nocturnal lover.
She hovered on the brink of explosion. Her limbs trembled. She inhaled in short gasps. The fingers thrusting in and out of her wet sheath moved faster. The tongue gliding over her inflamed clitoris did so with a little more pressure but the pace never wavered. Each stroke of the slippery tongue was just right.
Oh yes. Right there. Just a little more.
“Unnnhhhh!” Cora cried out as she shattered in climax. She undulated atop the plush bed, her movements jerky and restricted by the silk ties. Her phantom lover took her to the heights of orgasm again with that fabulous tongue and only let up when she begged for mercy. His tongue licked gently at her hot pussy as she panted for air and slowly returned to earth. Her mind fuzzy from the intense orgasms, Cora tried to touch her lover’s head and succeeded.
Her head shot off the pillow as she realized her arms were free. Just as quickly as the bonds had appeared, they’d vanished—and so had her mystery man.
Annoyed, Cora frowned and touched the still warm sheets. Any second now she would wake from the delicious dream.
“Come to me.”
Her heart stuttered at the unexpected man’s voice. It sounded like Stig but more raspy and oscillating, almost dreamlike. She clutched at her throat with a nervous hand and felt her thudding pulse beneath her fingertips. “Stig?”
“Come to me, Cora.”
She considered the request. Stig’s warning raced to the forefront of her mind. “But you said—”
“I need you.” There was no mistaking the pain and need in his voice. “Come, Cora. Please.”
And then he was gone.
Cora woke with a start and sucked in a shaky breath. She ran a hand through her hair and tried to reconcile her dream with reality. After Stig’s shocking revelations, she couldn’t immediately discount the possibility this was all real.
Stig needed her. Deep down inside, Cora knew it to be true. Ignoring the inner voice shrieking for caution, she slipped from the bed, left her room, and descended the stairs. Not bothering to turn on the lights, she wound her way through the living room and across the kitchen. Enough moonlight spilled through the windows to guide her way. She found the flashlight and clenched it tightly.
Cora paused outside the door leading down to the basement. Her instinct told her to go back upstairs. Stig had ordered her to stay out of there.
But the dream…
She opened the door and flicked on the flashlight. Trembling with trepidation, Cora took that first ominous step. Each progressive one came easier and easier as her bravery increased. The closer she got to the door, the more she wanted to see what was on the other side. She needed to know what Stig really was.
The flashlight beam settled on the keypad. The right numbers somehow popped into her head. Had her dream lover—Stig, she felt sure—planted them there during their rendezvous? Her fingers moved over the keys, punching in the correct number combination. A satisfying series of beeps and clicks echoed in the darkness.
Cora’s hand grasped the door handle. Once she opened this door, it would all be over. She would know everything. There would be no turning back, no forgetting.
It was now or never.
Cora yanked on the door and prepared to face her destiny.
Chapter Four
Cora stood just outside the door to Stig’s holding cell, and he vibrated with awareness. It seemed with each dream rendezvous their connection grew stronger. He had actually felt her moving through the house, drawing closer with each step. It terrified him. The last thing he’d ever wanted was to form such an attachment to her. Cora couldn’t possibly understand what was happening to her through the dreams. Honestly, Stig wasn’t quite sure himself. In the past, he’d shared dreams with other humans but the connection had never been this strong or vibrant.
How much control did he now have over Cora? While Stig wouldn’t dare manipulate the growing bond for his benefit, his inner beast was a different story. Even though he fought the dragon’s control, the beast coaxed Cora through the door. Her scent slammed into him, a mixture of breezy summer scents and the musk of sex. Apparently his dream self had done quite a job arousing her. Cora’s cries of ecstasy still rang in his ears.
Though her bare feet touched the cold wet stone with such softness there was hardly a whisper of sound, the footsteps echoed like hammer falls in Stig’s dragon ears. His heart raced with anxiety and fear. Any second now she’d catch sight of him. Would she scream with revulsion? Run away in disgust?
A sharp gasp marked her first glimpse. Humiliation soured his stomach. He kept his gaze locked on the floor. He couldn’t bear to see the expression of horror surely fixed on her sweet face.
“Stig?” Cora’s gentle voice seemed so out of place in the damp, dank cell. She belonged in the beauty of the sunlight, not hidden here in the darkness.
“Go away.” His words were garbled and thick, his tongue moving awkwardl
y in his mouth. He rarely spoke while in dragon form. “Please.”
“No.” She spoke firmly and took a bold step forward. “I’m not afraid.”
Her voice never wavered. She meant it. She truly wasn’t afraid of him.
Stig reluctantly lifted his head and met her curious gaze. She studied his new form. He could only imagine what a shock it must have been for her to come down here and discover a dragon chained to the wall. Cora slowly bent and put down the flashlight, flicking off the beam before placing it on the floor. There was no need for the handheld torch in the lighted cell. The hem of her thin cotton nightgown bunched around her thighs and revealed a swath of tantalizing skin.
Lust flared in his lower belly. His groin tightened. Stig swallowed hard and tried to get a grip. In his mind, he was all human at the moment. In reality, he was a dragon with the wings, scales, and talons of a beast. Cora lacked the ability to shift, so there would be no mating tonight or any other during his phase.
“You’ve seen what you came to see, Cora. You need to go back upstairs.” He had to get her out of here. His control over his baser instincts threatened to break at any moment. He hoped the chains he’d designed really were as strong as he’d intended.
Cora shook her head. She guardedly crossed the distance between them. Her scent and heat filtered through him in waves. The memory of her taste blossomed on his tongue, the potent mix of salty and sweet filling him with the need to lick that delicious pussy again, only for real this time. He wanted to hear his name spill from her lips as he sucked and lapped her into climax after climax.
Stig’s cock hardened and he shifted with embarrassment. What would she think of him? One look at his penis in its current state and she’d run screaming from the room, probably calling him a pervert.
“May I touch you?” Before he could say no, Cora brushed her fingertips over his scaled chest. His breath seized in his throat. He watched her carefully, waiting for any sign of repulsion on her face but there was only curiosity and awe. “You feel like leather and metal and— Oh! Look!”
