Dragon Fall: Masters of the Flame 3 (Mating Fever) (15 page)

She turned his head with her hand on his honed cheekbone and kissed him lingeringly. She put everything she had into the kiss—her want and need, her anticipation and desire, her longing and craving. She gave it all.

He’d already changed so much, not just man to dragon and back again, but from recluse to reyex. She doubted he even saw it, but maybe as thin and transparent as she was, she could be the mirror to show him the truth about how much he mattered, to his brother, his cousin, his people.

And to her, but that wasn’t why she was here.

He pulled back from the kiss to catch his breath, his eyes gleaming. “Esme.”

He leaned to lay her down, and she stiffened against the expectation of cold, hard stone. Instead, smooth scales gave way under her…

She plunged her hand into a seemingly bottomless pool of golden coins, some almost the size of her palm, some smaller than her fingernail. “You’ve got to be joking.”

The gleam in his eyes was even brighter than the treasure. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

She was practically swimming in gold. Holding up one coin, she peered at the image stamped into the metal. “Roman?”

“Byzantine,” he said with barely a glance. “Not that I care at the moment.”

She caught up a big handful of coins, sifting them between her fingers. “I bet your dragon cares.”

“Do it,” he said. “I dare you. Go ahead and bet me.”

She writhed sensuously, letting the cool metal trickle across her belly. “I bet you make me feel more than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“You’ll win that bet,” he growled. “And you’ll like it.”

While she watched avidly, he stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt. The modern trappings that he’d donned so easily fell away, and he stood before her naked, his cock jutting, the faintest pattern of scales still outlined over his heart and down his left side. Once more her ancient dragon lord.

Her heart ached. For some time now, she’d been thinking of him as hers. That was going to hurt when she yanked it away. And though she’d been hurt before, somehow she knew this time was going to be worse because for the first time, she
wanted
to give in, to let go, to yield and be moved by a force bigger and stronger than she.

If leaving Bale was what it meant to be her own woman, maybe she’d rather stay a puppet.

But it was too late. She’d faced that sad, miniaturized, perfect version of herself and destroyed it. All that was left was her new, flailing, imperfect, mostly bald self. And no one really wanted that, even her—especially her.

The bond between her and Bale wasn’t sympathetic magic but
pathetic
magic. They’d found each other at their worst, but they both needed to fly.

First, though…

She held her hand out to him. He came down to her as lightly and powerfully as he landed on the boat in his dragon form. She rocked in the sea of gold, and a diamond rolled from the pile of riches into the crease of her groin, disappearing between her legs.

Bale rumbled like a hungry beast, his glittering gaze following the track of the bauble. Always obliging as she was, she parted her legs. The slick wetness made a soft, hungry noise of its own, and her dragon’s dark eyes all but ignited.

He leaned down to kiss her navel, holding onto her hips hard enough to leave a mark. She hoped there’d be something to see, to remember, pressed into her skin like the etchings on the old coins.
This we want
, the markings whispered,
this we keep
.

Bale licked a blazing trail over her mound, and for a moment she stiffened, her thighs tensing. It had been a long day, and she wasn’t… But then his hot breath fanned across her clit, dragon wings rousing the salt sea.

He flayed her knees wide and delved into her slit like the diamond might’ve gone missing there and he was spelunking for it.

She arched her back, willingly driving her hips up to his ravening mouth. Let him search all he liked…

The flick of his tongue made her writhe, her heart slamming a heavy beat in echo. She reached out to both sides, burying her fingers in the coins that slithered away from her until she felt she was drowning in molten metal and the wet heat of his mouth.

“More,” she whispered. “Come here and give me more.”

He surged over her. Even his now flight-ready arms, biceps bulging on either side of her face, couldn’t hold him up in the pool of coins. He pressed down into her, his hips driving her thighs apart and his cock pulsing hard against her pussy. She took him deep, mewling at the delicious pressure against the swollen nub at her entrance.

Wrapping her heels behind his butt, she pulled him even closer. The feverish heat of their bodies made their skin slick, their breath roaring as they fought each other and the awkward slide of the coins, chasing their pleasure like two butterflies spiraling higher, seemingly on the verge of being torn apart by the cruel wind and yet somehow making headway against it, higher and higher.

The lightning struck, spearing her from throat to heart to pussy, and she orgasmed with a broken scream, clenching and drenching him with her ecstasy.

He cried out hoarsely a heartbeat later, his cock pulsing so hard she came again, silently this time, her eyes closed as she listened to the rush of their heartbeats, synced.

In a musical clatter of coins, he rolled, dragging her with him so she was sprawled atop him. His flesh was a little more giving than the bed of gold, but not much.

She laid her head on his chest, her ear attuned to the gradual slowing of his pulse. The slow stroke of his fingertips over her shorn hair made her eyes prickle with tears, as if it hurt. Luckily, their skin was still sticky with sweat so he didn’t notice when a droplet fell above his heart.

It gleamed with a darkly iridescent fire that she thought at first was just the reflection of the blazing gems all around them. But when she tucked her chin, the sparkle didn’t change.

It was burning from inside with the light of
his
ichor.

She kissed him there. It was burning and sweet on her tongue, proof—as if him taking to the skies on two powerful wings wasn’t enough—that the blight was in remission.

Proof that she was his solarys.

The ichor burned in her throat too, like more tears.

His hand trailed down her spine to rest with proprietary satisfaction on her ass. “I should have gone slower, been more gentle.”

She rubbed her cheek against his chest, obliterating the evidence of her crying and his claiming. “I didn’t ask for slow and gentle.”

“You never ask for anything.” His arm behind her tightened. “Why is that?”

“Because I had everything already,” she mumbled.

“I think because you gave up wanting. Which reminds me, there’s something I want to give you.” He tensed, as if about to lift her off, but she clamped her inner muscles around his cock.

“Not yet,” she murmured. “This is what I want for now.” She pushed herself upright and swung her knees to either side to straddle him.

He stared at her through half-lidded eyes. “Then take it. Take me.”

She should’ve known his dragon strength, buoyed by the pool of his treasure, would stand him in good stead. Since he’d spoken earlier with a touch of wistfulness, she took him slow and gentle, making it last like a single hard candy she’d savor. Or so she intended.

But he was too much, a feast for her senses, his body hot and hard under and in her, the musky, stormy scent of him filling her head. Freed of the need to hold himself from crushing her, he let his hands roam up her tensed thighs. One hand found the pouting bud of her clit with his thumb while the other played across her small breasts, teasing her nipples into tight, hard beads and pushing her into the realm of another lightning strike.

She felt the tension brewing and she rocked against him, each circle of his thumb drawing a keening crescendo from her tingling lips.

The climax seized them simultaneously, and she screamed, not knowing if she was blinded by the explosion of ichor or jewels or her own pleasure.

As their breath and bodies cooled, she curled against him. “We’re going to rust this treasure of yours.”

“Or melt it into a river of gold,” he mumbled. “In a minute…”

The heavy beat of his heart lulled her, and it was a moment before she realized he was snoring softly in time. How like man and beast to hunt and feast and fall asleep.

With a wince, she eased off him. The coins chimed under her but didn’t rock him, though his brow furrowed when her pussy left his cock with a soft, parting kiss. The brand burned like a glowstick with his ichor.

She’d been sent as bait to kill a dragon, but she’d given this one life.

No one else could’ve saved the lord of the burning night.

She wanted a damn cookie.

Couldn’t eat coins. She found her clothes, intact since he’d lost the talon, and dressed. The black leggings and sleeveless turtleneck felt stiff and cold from her earlier adventures. She looked back at Bale, absently dragging her knuckles over the prickly velvet of her hair.

In his sleep, his cock had softened just enough to angle sideways. Toward her. Was that an accusing look?

She wrapped her arms around herself. Not as strong as his arms, but it was what she had.

At least she’d given something of herself that was all her, only her, not bought or borrowed or stolen. A gift. She left him asleep in his treasure.

Chapter 15

As he’d known.

When Bale woke, despite the wonders of the day before, his dragon was a cold, hard, sullen knot in his chest.

She was gone.

Not in the bathroom. Not back to the Amber Suite. Not anywhere in the Keep.

Gone.

The remnants of ichor still streaked his skin along with the dark cherry scent of her, and the coins dug into his spine.

With a curse, he rose.

He had just finished dressing—he appreciated the heavy leather boots Torch had procured for him, since he would’ve dearly liked to kick something—when the elevator door chimed. He whirled, anticipation making his pulse skip.

It was Anjali and Piper.

They gazed around in shock, wide eyes of brown and hazel reflecting the desert light streaming through the exposed windows. He took a mental bet about who would recover first and promptly lost it when Piper’s gaze snapped to him before her friend’s.

“Esme left.” Her tone crackled with accusation.

“Yes.” Though he tried to keep his voice neutral, the chaffing denim of his new jeans made him stand stiffly.

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t give her what she needed.”

Piper’s aggressive stance wavered. “What she… Really?” Her gaze jumped around the gem-studded hall again. “I…find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t,” Anjali said. When he huffed out a breath, she actually flushed, her dusky skin brightening over the curve of her cheeks. “I don’t mean that you didn’t satisfy her—”

“Anj,” Piper hissed.

The brash female only shrugged. “We know she wanted that. But he scared her.”

Hearing the words was like the petralys icing through him again. “She saw me,” he admitted. “When the blight had twisted me.”

Anjali shook her head. “You didn’t scare her because of what you looked like but what you made her feel.”

He glared at her. “You just said I satisfied her.”

Hazel eyes and brown rolled in exasperation. “Not what she felt with her skin,” Piper said. “What she felt in her heart.”

“Oh god, it sounds awful,” Anjali muttered. “No wonder she ran.”

“Well, good thing he can fly.” Piper put her hands on her hips. “You have to go after her. She’s your solarys.”

“Yes, she is. And no, I don’t.” He shifted one talon and drew it down the crook of his arm. At least the t-shirt was appealingly soft. He stared impassively at the crimson blood and shimmering ichor that welled up in the wound. “She did this to me. A gift, she said.”

And then she’d left.

The slash thinned. In a moment, he knew, not even a scar would remain.

So why did it feel as if the wound went much deeper?

He looked at Piper. “With my ichor this fluid, how much time did she buy me?”

Her jaw worked, like she was chewing up numbers to spit at him. “As far as we can tell from the tests we’re running with the cereus blossoms and how my presence and, uh, other services have affected Rave… Decades, probably,” she admitted. “That’s before you’d notice another decline. Probably a century before you’ll be in the same place you were before you found her.”

“So she could live her whole life never seeing me again and still knowing she saved my life.” When he clenched his fist, a dewdrop of ichor beaded from the wound and trickled down his wrist. It tingled over his pulse and disappeared.

Piper nodded reluctantly. “And since the solarys bond would kill you when she dies…”

“It doesn’t even matter if she’s here or not,” he finished coldly.

Anjali, never the romantic, let out a soft murmur of dismay.

But he couldn’t reassure her. Not when his ichor ran freely but his dragon was stone-cold inside.

***

Esme let herself into the quiet townhome in Salt Lake City and stared around mutely.

She’d lived here since college, with Anjali and Piper as her housemates, and she’d been gone barely more than a week. They’d always joked about how it was way too nice for them, even for Esme, with its vaulted ceilings enhanced by crown molding and a perfect semi-satin white paint job that was retouched quarterly by a hired crew.

“Your grandmother would retouch
you
every six weeks if you let her,” Anjali had teased her in this very foyer once.

So why did it feel so small and unfamiliar?

Because it didn’t have jewels embedded in the plaster. Because there wasn’t a river of antique coins pouring down the hallway that led past the foyer and living room back toward the kitchen.

She let out a shaky breath.

And almost jumped out of her skin when her phone shrilled. She sucked the breath back in and straightened before pulling the cell from the pocket of her light jacket. The scent of brine tickled her nose.

“Hello, Grand-mère.”