ShiftingHeat (2 page)

He’d learned to accept the sensation of cracking, reshaping
bones and muscle by now, but if he could shape-shift faster, he’d hardly notice
it at all. Or so his colleagues told him. At first they’d stayed back, nannying
him, but Andros had done with that. After a lifetime of coddling, he tended to
get impatient with people who asked him if he was okay. A shame a kid with a
debilitating condition like muscular dystrophy hated being cared for, but there
it was. His surly responses to the twentieth “Are you feeling okay today?” had
gotten him a bad rep, probably with reason, but sometimes that had proved too
much on top of the constant pain. And his resentment against the world, that he
should be burdened with this illness when he’d done nothing to deserve it.

Not that he had it anymore. The first few shape-shifts had
taken care of the disease. Jesus, if he could market that as a cure, he’d make
a fortune.

He shuddered, but this time not with cold. His dragon form
didn’t feel the cold the way his human form did. He swung out his wing, enjoying
the sensation of the breeze rippling across his leathery skin, ruffling the scales.
Exhilarating power surged through him, but that was nothing to what he felt
when he swept his wings down—which was possible now with few people left on the
roof—and felt his body respond, rising with an effortless strength that
defeated his remaining forebodings.

One downsweep of his wings brought him into contact with the
air currents and he left STORM behind, surging through the air. Like swimming
but better, without the resistance of water. After a few powerful thrusts, he allowed
himself to drift lazily in the direction of Central Park.

It was almost tradition now for the winged Talents to head
there. After all, Alessandro Gianetti had done the first daylight unfuzzed
flight there.

Soaring up, he effortlessly avoided the other dragons and
flying creatures, enjoying their company but not feeling the need to
communicate.
Heaven.
This part of shape-shifting had filled Andros with
joy when he’d first discovered it. Countless dreams of flying just didn’t
compare with the reality.

Only when he glanced down did he realize how high he’d
climbed. Above the tall buildings, even overtopping the Empire State Building, which
dominated the midtown skyline. Creatures danced and soared around its spire,
chasing each other or just demonstrating their skills.

Flickers of bright light from below indicated the inevitable
flashes of cameras. Tourists and locals gathered in Central Park and on top of
the tall buildings, as well as the street. Some of the building owners held
special late openings on the nights of the full moon each month to take
advantage of the newest attraction. Sparks of light twinkled over the green
swath of the park below, broken only by the calm blue-gray of the reservoir and
lake. Andros could appreciate the true beauty of the park as he never had
before.

On his descent, he encountered a blue dragon, one whose
scales gleamed in the waning light. He banked to avoid it but it swooped and
swerved, following him, and a tingle in his mind told him she wanted to
communicate. Oh yes, she. He sensed the feminine essence of her, had scented
her as he passed but hadn’t wanted to intrude on anyone’s enjoyment tonight.

Seemed she wanted to enjoy it with him. So he slowed and
powered his wings, driving himself up until he floated above her, then swooped
behind her to tease her with an extra surge of air to throw her slightly off
course. Andros had rarely played before. Life had seemed too short for him to
waste time doing anything like that. He’d taken a laptop when he’d accompanied
his sister to theme parks, used the time to work on a current project, but
now—now he had all the time in the world to play. Hundreds of years to learn
how to do something just for the exhilaration that coursed through his veins.

He heard her laughter in his mind. Dragons rarely used their
vocal cords—a bellow, a roar, an odd clicking sound and a kind of purr were
more or less the extent of their verbal skills. But their telepathy reflected
all the verbal dexterity they had in their human forms. Her amusement tickled
his senses, gave him a flush of arousal to add to his already heightened state.

She swept past him, brushing his wing with hers. A sweet
touch that sent shivers through him. He liked this game. He responded, twisting
his flexible body around to come back at her, rushing toward her, only to soar
over her head and sweep up, hovering. But dragons couldn’t hover long so he
flew past her and turned.

Not fast enough. She’d already whirled around and her body
was still curved, supple and lithe. As he watched, it straightened and she
flicked her tail in a cheeky demonstration of control. She didn’t try to speak
to him telepathically, only sent him a warm surge of laughter, which he
returned in full.

Aerobatics were nothing new to Andros, he’d practiced plenty
since his conversion last year. But doing it for sheer joy, playing with
another dragon, was new to him. At least it was in this intensity. He felt a
connection to her, a link he’d rarely felt since his sister fell in love and
married. He wouldn’t have it any other way, seeing Ania so happy, but he’d
missed her, missed their easy companionship. Not that he’d tell anyone or admit
it. It would feel disloyal when she’d found such happiness.

He wondered what this woman looked like in her human form.
Almost as soon as he thought it, she sent him an image. It flicked across his
mind, there and gone, teasing him with its brief appearance, but he wanted to
see more. He got an impression of dark hair cut short, feathery, intense dark
eyes and honeyed skin, almost Mediterranean in its warm tone. He wanted to
taste. To see more, to feel more. His libido returned in force, spurring him on
to take what she seemed to be offering.

Andros sent her an image of himself as he was now. He’d long
ago abandoned the pitch-black hair dye that had contrasted violently with his
Polish-pale skin, so he sent her the tousled blond of his reality. His eyes,
ice blue, gleamed in a face that he’d allowed to tan a little in the summer
just past. He’d abandoned the emo look, although he still wore some of the
clothes, but he didn’t bother with details. He sent her his face and a glimpse
of his body clad in jeans and T-shirt.

She seemed to approve. He sent her his name and received
hers in return.
Cara.

Pretty.

Their first telepathic conversation. Andros shivered,
delighted by the response. Even if this came to nothing more, she’d already
brightened his evening. Other flying creatures sped past them, dragons,
griffins and the occasional bird, probably pissed off by this invasion of its
air space. Now he’d opened his mind, fleeting images crossed it, images from
the Talents and floating, random images from the less-disciplined mortals
below.

He was closer to the ground, not close enough to discern
faces, but close enough to see the disparate colors where they massed. He
turned his attention away from them and back to the utterly fascinating blue
dragon. Cara.

This play showed him a whole new facet of being a Talent. While
everyone had treated him with friendship and kindness, nobody had shown an interest
like this before. Not in
him
.

When Cara fled across the park and then glanced back, he got
the message. She flipped her tail at him and he followed, playfully catching up
with her and then letting her get ahead. Her back view was as good as the front.
Lissome, supple, mouthwatering. She sent him an image, his golden body entwined
with hers, their tails wound around each other, the combined power of their
wings sending them high into the blue sky. She mirrored his movements as he
moved in rhythmic thrusts against her, responding by pressing close, rubbing
her neck against his where the skin was at its most sensitive.

Desire roared inside him. If he could have caught up with
her, he’d have copied the actions of the dragons in the telepathic vision she’d
sent him.

Fuck.
He was actually thinking about dragon sex?
Andros the dragon and Cara the dragon? Most Talents preferred to make love in
their human forms, but that sight made him wonder how many shape-shifters
fucked in their other forms.

She continued to send him visual messages, going from dragon
embrace to human form, copying the clothes he’d used in his vision but then
letting the garments grow more transparent until they disappeared, melted away
and he saw his naked body caressing hers. She held up her breasts in invitation
and he accepted, bent to suckle and taste.

He hadn’t had sex for a while. He’d thought it a way of
testing his resolve. Or maybe it was a bad habit he needed to break.

No time like the present.

He chased after her, his wings beating a breeze to stir the
hair of the people below. They were still taking pictures, the flashes brighter
now the natural light had faded. They sparkled after them in a wake he approved
of. Benign fireworks. For the first time he wondered about the dragons-breathing-fire
thing. Would it impress her? Could he do it? He had no fucking idea. Maybe. He
knew how it was done, but he hadn’t tried it yet.

She took him to the other side of the park, the West Side,
and then down Eighth. Heh. It usually gave him a stupid, childish kick to go
the wrong way down Eighth Avenue. Right now he didn’t give a fuck.

He followed her to the balcony of a hotel. Not one of the
spectacular five-star establishments around the Park, but a more modest place.
Although to call any hotel around here modest was probably an understatement.

He hesitated, a sense of self-preservation belatedly
creeping up on him, dampening his mood. People still kidnapped Talents and
imprisoned them in laboratories to experiment on them. This could be a honey
trap.

Read me
, she said softly.
I just like you, that’s
all. I want you. Make my New York holiday special.

He trusted his instincts and nothing alerted him to danger.
His boss always told him to trust the way he felt about a person, and this
person had no malice lingering around her.

So he hovered above the balcony and shape-shifted, landing
with a soft thump. He followed her into the dimly lit room. Only when his toes
dug into the soft carpet did Andros remember that he was naked.

She wasn’t. She stood before him wearing a silk robe. She
must have shape-shifted and grabbed it before he had time to land. More
experienced than he was, that was for sure.

But the blue silk outlined her figure in an utterly enticing
way, a way that made his mouth water. Before he could put his reactions through
a filter of civilization, Andros reached for her.

Faye shuddered, pure reaction arcing through her as his
mouth touched hers. Shit, she’d meant to choose someone she didn’t connect with,
someone she wouldn’t feel too bad about double-crossing. Not this. She’d never
felt like this just from a kiss. She spread her palms over the skin of his back,
hungry to touch as much of him as she could. So smooth, the indent of his spine
flexible and delicious. She wanted to taste his skin, but if he took his mouth
from hers right now, she’d kill him.

Pure lust took over from intellect and reason. She had to
fight back. But this could well be a losing battle.

She opened her mouth when he touched her lips with his
tongue, welcoming him in. So good. So fucking good, she could eat him alive. Desire
rose, dampened her thighs, made her take a deep breath through her nose—his
male, aroused scent teasing her, rousing her appetite. He tasted like nobody
else she’d ever had. Spicy, delicious. Tempting. He swept his tongue around her
mouth and she tasted him back. He let her take control, move her tongue against
his. She liked that. Occasionally she wanted to be dominated, for the man to
take and take, but only sometimes. The rest of the time she preferred a meeting
of equals. A fucking of equals.

Her skin prickled. That flight should have soothed her
raging libido, given her more control, but from the moment her mind had
connected with his, her hunger for him had only risen. As if on cue, he moved
his hand over her back, sliding it along the silk of her robe, caressing her.
The robe made the movement sexier, the notion that she still had one secret
left to reveal. He’d seen her other form, but he hadn’t seen her naked. Would
he like her body, and would she let him remove her garment?

That tantalizing final barrier of cloth remained between
them, teasing her with its presence but, too engrossed in kissing him, she lost
herself in his arms.

When he’d shown her his mental image of himself, she’d seen
a slender, willowy youth. But the man who held her now didn’t feel like that.
No bulging muscles for sure, but strength flowed through him with the ease and
power of an athlete.

He tugged her even closer and she went, her breasts squashed
against the hard planes of his chest, her arms snaking around him to pull him
tight. He lifted his mouth from hers and smiled, his eyes creasing slightly at
the corners. “Hello,” he said.

She huffed a small laugh. “Hello.”

He smoothed his hands down her body, curved them around her
butt and lifted her so her pussy ground against his erect cock. The pressure
made her soak the fabric she wore, her desire manifesting itself in the juice
flowing from her. But when she reached for her waist, tried to push between
them to loosen the tie, he gave her a hug and touched his lips to her forehead.
His tongue snaked out to touch her, as if he couldn’t help himself. “No, don’t.
Let me do it.”

She was all over that idea. When she first spotted the ankle
bracelet that denoted him a STORM employee she’d gone for him with cool
determination to get what she needed and go. He wasn’t an operative. They
usually had red anklets. Andros had a blue one. An internal worker. Perfect, as
long as he had the security level she needed. She’d have to take a chance on
that because she couldn’t go back now.