Charred by Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  Dear goddess, she wanted to consume him.

  From the top of his silvery head to the tip of his toes. And every single inch in between.

  “Then what would describe your need?” she asked, her fingers tracing the wide width of his shoulders.

  “I ache to taste your lips,” Char growled low in his throat, his hands moving restlessly over her bare skin before he covered her mouth in a deep kiss. A ruthless hunger scorched through Blayze, making her body arch at the sheer intensity. Char moaned his approval, his mouth moving to scatter tiny kisses over her flushed face. “I hunger to feel your body pressed against mine.”

  Mmm.

  The hot male scent of his dragon spiced the air.

  “It’s a start,” she assured him.

  He offered a throaty laugh. “Ah, a demanding female,” he rasped, allowing one of his hands to slide between her thighs and stroke through her damp heat.

  Her nails scored down Char’s back, pleasure searing through her.

  “I have a lot of time to make up for,” she reminded him.

  He crushed her lips in another demanding kiss. “We have all eternity.” He lifted his head, staring down at her as he pressed his finger into her tight flesh. “We do have all eternity, don’t we? Once I claim you there’s no way I’m going to let you go.”

  Blayze instinctively dug her heels into the mattress beneath her as she tilted her hips upward.

  “Yes,” she breathed, her dragon twisting restlessly beneath her flesh. His finger was creating the most delicious friction as he dipped it in and out of her. “Char.”

  He nibbled kisses over her cheek, then down the length of her jaw. “Tell me you’re certain, Blayze.” He stroked the tip of his tongue over the pulse racing at the base of her throat. “I need to hear the words.”

  “Without a doubt,” she assured him, not hesitating for even a beat. Her hands moved down the curve of his spine, stroking his flames higher and higher. “Now tell me more about how much you want me.”

  “I lust for you.” His mouth trailed down her collarbone. “For the softness of your body.” He lapped at the aching tip of her breast. “The heat of your dragon.”

  A moan fell from her parted lips. This game was swiftly spiraling out of control. In the most delicious way.

  “Like this?” she asked softly, releasing a breath of her dragon-fire.

  His entire body quivered. Not from pain. His expression was one of pure bliss.

  “Exactly like that,” he rasped, using the edge of his teeth to torment her sensitive nipple.

  Fisting her fingers in his thick hair, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips.

  “This is…” Her words lodged in her throat.

  Pulling back, he regarded her with a searching gaze. “What?”

  She instinctively rubbed herself against the hot length of his erection.

  “So much more than I dreamed it would be.”

  His eyes darkened to smoke, the power of his dragon beating against her. “Yes.” Bearing his weight on his elbows, Char angled his hips until the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. “More than I ever dreamed possible.”

  Her dragon huffed with impatience. She might not have experience, but her body understood what it needed. And that it needed it now.

  “So why are you waiting?” she demanded, digging her nails into his back as he studied her with an oddly intense expression.

  “There’s something I want to give you first.”

  She blinked in confusion. Most dragons were obsessed with adding to their hoards, but she’d already told Char that she had no interest in possessions.

  All she’d ever wanted was to be rid of the curse.

  And to find her mate.

  “I really don’t want—”

  Her words ended on a gasp as she felt a tingle of power wrap around her, and a delicate weight lying against her upper chest. Glancing down, she caught sight of the golden necklace that gleamed in the glow of her skin.

  Despite her seclusion from the world, she knew exactly what it was.

  A dragon marque.

  A symbol of ownership. Or in this case, a symbol of Char’s intention to claim her as a mate.

  She breathed out a soft sigh as her fingers stroked over the precious metal. She could feel the power of his dragon in the marque, as well as the effervescent fey magic.

  “Char.” She moved her hand to lightly stroke her fingers over his lips. “Right now, I truly wish you could freeze time for all eternity. There has never been a more perfect moment.”

  A wicked smile touched his lips. “I promise it’s going to get a lot more perfect.”

  She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. Not until Char pushed his hips forward, sliding into her with a slow, relentless thrust.

  Releasing a breath of pleasure, Blayze clutched at Char’s shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. There wasn’t pain. Her body was ready and willing to accommodate his entry. But there was a splendid sense of fullness, and a shocking intimacy.

  She’d craved this male since she’d opened her eyes to find him hovering above her.

  Now that she finally had him plunging deep inside her, she realized that it was a craving that would never, ever end.

  Perhaps sensing the profound emotions that were thundering through her, Char buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  “Blayze,” he whispered. “Hold on tight.”

  “I’m never letting go,” she promised. “Just don’t stop.”

  He released a choked laugh. “Trust me, there’s no way in hell I’m stopping,” he told her, pulling out of her body before thrusting back in with a growing urgency. “You’ve promised to be mine.”

  “And you are mine,” she groaned as he began moving with a rhythm that stole her breath.

  Yes. Oh, yes. This was what her body had ached to feel during the centuries she’d been locked away. This was what she needed.

  Allowing her eyes to shut, Blayze growled in pleasure as his teeth sank into her neck. He rocked into her faster and faster, his hands grasping her hips to hold her in place as his pounding thrusts threatened to send her off the mattress.

  “Harder,” she muttered against his lips, her body clenched so tightly she felt as if she might shatter.

  “You’re glowing.” Kissing a path down her throat, he skimmed his lips between the swell of her breasts as he allowed his dragon-fire to sear over her sensitive skin.

  Blayze’s rasping breath was the only sound to disturb the silent air, her world narrowing to the point where Char’s body surged in and out of her.

  She was swiftly careening toward a distant goal, her back arched and her fingers digging into Char’s back.

  And then…it happened.

  With one last surge he tumbled her over the edge, sending her spinning with a tidal wave of dizzying bliss.

  He claimed her lips in a searing kiss, continuing to pump into her shuddering body until he went rigid with his own release. Then, as he shouted out at the force of his climax, their flames combusted around them.

  Her eyes slowly opened, a sated pleasure settling over her with a delicious sense of peace.

  “Char.”

  ***

  Levet sighed, preparing to make his way to the portal that Tayla had created for him just outside Synge’s lair.

  He should be delighted.

  What had the great bard said? “All’s well that ends well.”

  And everything had certainly ended well.

  Blayze and Char had safely returned from their journey back in time. And not only had Blayze managed to get rid of her curse, but she’d mated with Char. Something that might have pissed off Synge if the older dragon wasn’t busy destroying Magma and his clan.

  Bolt had been reunited with his grieving father, who’d been so relieved to have him back that he hadn’t even protested when Bolt insisted that Vex was going to be his mate.

  And Baine had just returned from The Viper Pit to command tha
t Tayla travel with him to their private lair, so they could enjoy some “alone time.”

  So why was he feeling azure? No, wait…blue. Oui. Why was he feeling blue?

  His gaze skimmed over the crowd that filled Synge’s throne room, lingering on the couples who were clinging to each other like they might suddenly be pulled apart.

  Char and Blayze, both glowing in the lovely light from Blayze’s skin. Vex and Bolt, who could barely look at anyone but each other. And Tayla and Baine, who were playing kissy-face in a dark corner.

  Then he wrinkled his snout. It was well known that he was a romantic at heart. And he was truly delighted with all the happy endings. But he could not deny a hint of envy.

  Had he not been the one to create the happily-ever-afters for everyone?

  So where was his?

  Giving a click of his tongue at his unusual bout of self-pity, Levet spread his wings and turned to leave the lair, then stepped to enter the portal. Tayla had promised him that it would take him to where his heart most desired to go.

  He was very much hoping that meant a one-way trip to his lovely fire imp who he’d abandoned when Tayla had first called for him.

  Darkness surrounded him, and Levet felt himself being whisked away. There was a strange sense of disorientation as he floated in space, then, with a violent bump, he landed on a hard floor.

  Shoving himself to his feet, he scowled as he rubbed his scuffed derrière. The portal had clearly been defective. Otherwise he would have landed with his usual graceful style.

  As if to prove his point, he glanced around the dark room, quickly realizing this was not a cozy bedchamber beneath a volcano.

  Non. This was…the cellars beneath The Viper Pit.

  His tail suddenly twitched, his annoyance evaporating as he scurried toward wooden shelves that were lined with bottles.

  Viper’s private stash!

  Wine. Champagne. Bourbon. Tequila. Even an entire barrel of nectar.

  Ah. This was precisely what a weary gargoyle needed after stopping a war, and ensuring a happy ending for all.

  Grabbing a ladle that was set on one of the shelves, Levet scurried toward the barrel and pried off the top. Then, dipping the ladle in the golden liquid, he lifted it to his lips to take a deep swallow.

  Instantly his muscles loosened and his wings fluttered in pleasure. Sweet, sweet nectar.

  The drink of the gods. And miniature gargoyles.

  He’d almost managed to polish off the entire ladle and was enjoying a dizzying buzz of euphoria when a cold chill snaked its way through the cellar.

  “Who’s down here?” Viper’s familiar voice echoed through the air.

  Levet slapped his hand over his mouth as he stifled a giggle.

  Not that it helped. Viper was a vampire who had an uncanny ability to sense when someone was tapping into his cache of expensive spirits.

  “Do I smell granite?” Viper rasped, the crunch of his footsteps coming closer and closer. “Levet, I’m going to kill you.”

  Levet released a hiccup and dipped the ladle back into the nectar. If he was going to die, he was going to do it with a smile on his face.

  Thank you for reading Charred By Darkness. Turn the page for excerpts of two other books by Alexandra Ivy.

  Pretend You’re Safe

  Excerpt

  PROLOGUE

  Frank Johnson had endured his fair share of floods. He’d been born and raised on the small farm that butted against the bank of the Mississippi River. Which meant he’d spent the past sixty years watching the muddy waters rise and fall. Sometimes sweeping away crops, cattle, and during one memorable year, the barn that had been built by his great-grandfather.

  The levee that’d been built by the Corps of Engineers over a decade ago had provided a measure of security. Not that he’d been happy when they’d come in and scooped up his fertile land to create the barrier. Frank was a typical Midwestern farmer who didn’t need the government poking their noses, or bulldozers, into his business. But eventually he’d had to admit it was nice not to have the waters lapping at the back door every time it rained.

  But this was no typical rain.

  On the first of February the heavens had opened up and six weeks later, the torrential rains continued to pound the small community. The river had become an angry, churning, destructive force as it swept toward the south. Frank watched in resignation as the water had inched closer and closer to the top of the levee. He knew it was only a matter of time before it spilled over the ridge and into his back field.

  But when he woke that morning, it wasn’t to find the levee had been topped. Nope. It had been busted wide open. As if someone had set off an explosion during the night.

  With the resignation of a man who’d lived his entire life dependent on the fickleness of nature, he’d pulled on his coveralls and boots before firing up his old tractor and heading down to see the damage.

  Dawn had arrived, but the thick clouds and persistent drizzle shrouded the farm in a strange gloom. Frank pulled the collar of his coveralls up to protect his neck from the chilled breeze, starting to feel like Noah. Had he missed the memo from God that he was supposed to build an ark?

  The inane thought had barely formed in his mind when he allowed the tractor to roll to a halt. As expected, his fields had become pools of brown, brackish water. In some places the nasty stuff was waist deep. There were also the usual leaves, branches, and pieces of flotsam that’d been caught in the swirling eddies.

  What he hadn’t expected was the long, dark object that he spotted floating in the middle of his pasture.

  His first thought had been that it was a log. Maybe a piece of lumber torn from a building. But a piece of wood wouldn’t make his stomach cramp with a sense of dread, would it?

  Climbing off his tractor, he’d reached into his pocket for his cell phone. His unconscious mind had already warned him that whatever the floodwaters had washed onto his land was going to be bad.

  And it was.

  Really, really bad.

  Chapter One

  First came the floods. And then the bodies…

  Jaci Patterson was running late.

  It all started when she woke at her usual time of four a.m. Yes, she really and truly woke at that indecent hour, five days a week. On the weekends, she allowed herself to sleep in until six. But this morning, when she crawled out of bed, she discovered the electricity was out.

  Again.

  The lack of power had nothing to do with the sketchy electrical lines that ran to her remote farmhouse in the northeast corner of Missouri. At least not this time. Instead, it could be blamed on the rains that continued to hammer the entire Midwest day after day.

  When the lights grudgingly flickered on an hour later, she had to rush through her routine, grateful that she’d baked two dozen peach tarts and several loaves of bread the night before.

  As it was she’d barely managed to finish her blueberry muffins and scones before she had to load them into the back of her Jeep. Then, locking her two black labs, Riff and Raff, in the barn so they didn’t destroy her house while she was gone, she headed toward Heron, the small town just ten miles away.

  Predictably, she was barreling down the muddy lane that led to the small farm that’d once belonged to her grandparents, when she discovered the road was blocked before she could reach the intersection. Crap. Obviously the levee had broken during the night, releasing the swollen fury of the Mississippi River.

  It was no wonder her electricity had gone out.

  Grimacing at the knowledge that her bottom fields, along with most of her neighbors’, were probably flooded, she put the Jeep in reverse. Then, careful to stay in the center of the muddy road, she reversed her way back to the lane. Once she managed to get turned around, she headed in the opposite direction.

  The detour took an extra fifteen minutes, but at least she didn’t have to worry about traffic. With fewer than three hundred people, Heron wasn’t exactly a hub of activity. In fact, s
he ran into exactly zero cars as she swung along Main Street.

  She splashed through the center of town that was lined with a small post office, the county courthouse that was built in the eighteen hundreds with a newer jail that had been added onto the back, a bank, and a beauty parlor. On the opposite side was the Baptist church and next to it a two-story brick building that the local celebrity, Nelson Bradley, had converted into a gallery for his photographs. Further down the block was a newly constructed tin shed that housed the fire truck and the water department. On the corner was a small diner that had originally been christened the Cozy Kitchen, but had slowly become known as the Bird’s Nest by the locals after it’d been taken over by Nancy Bird, or Birdie, as she was affectionately nicknamed.

  Pulling into the narrow alley behind the diner, Jaci hopped out of her vehicle to grab the top container of muffins that were still warm from the oven. Instantly, she regretted not pulling on her jacket as the drizzling rain molded her short honey brown hair to her scalp and dampened her Mizzou sweatshirt and faded jeans to her generously curved body.

  With a shiver she hurried through the back door, careful to wipe the mud from her rubber boots before entering the kitchen.

  Heat smacked her in the face, the contrast from the chilled wind outside making the cramped space feel smothering.

  Grimacing, she walked to set the muffins on a narrow stainless steel table that was next to the griddle filled with scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausage and sizzling bacon.

  The large woman with graying hair and a plump face efficiently flipped a row of pancakes before gesturing toward the woman who was standing at the sink washing dishes. Once the helper had hurried to her side, she handed off her spatula and made her way toward Jaci.

  Nancy Bird, better known as Birdie, was fifteen years older than Jaci. When she was just seventeen she’d married her high school sweetheart and dropped out of school. The sweetheart turned out to be a horse patootie who’d fled town, leaving Birdie with four young girls to raise on her own.