DragonMaster

Dragon Master

Jory Strong

Supernatural Bonds, Book Nine

Nothing
is more cherished than a mate, no treasure more valued or sought after than the
perfect match.
With a glance at Summer’s picture, Jubal
recognizes not only his intended, but a submissive whose body cries out for
discipline. There’s no question about claiming her, and when he spots her
entering an exclusive BDSM club, he believes it’s Fate. Summer can’t get past
the foyer without a master—and that master will be
him
.

At the sound of Jubal’s voice, she  knows
he’s the one, the man she’s been searching for, the master who can demand her
devotion. Any other time she’d gladly surrender her trust and her heart, as
well as her body, but tonight it’s an urgent task and not the search for
pleasure that’s brought her to the club.

She’s been warned about dragons. And even
believing Jubal might be just such a supernatural being doesn’t lessen the
ecstasy she experiences in his hands. His carnal discipline and heady torment
satisfy her—even as they force her to choose between risking it all or not.

Dragon Master

Jory Strong

Chapter One

Jubal watched as Lyra disappeared into a
dragon’s den, or more accurately Tielo’s suite, including office and attached
bedroom. The little human was about to learn just how risky it was to play
dragon games, especially with a male who had finally recognized her for what
she was, his true mate.

What foolishness
. He’d watched in amazement as Tielo fought the attraction and
failed to acknowledge it until it had nearly been too late. And for a time he
would have been all too willing to take what Tielo hadn’t admitted wanting.

Had he claimed Lyra for his own, as his
cock had urged him to from the first moment he saw her, he would never have
regretted it or considered that another might suit him better. But Fates be
praised, for once, that he’d been knocked out of the poker game and sent from
the table, because rather than defeat, he’d won the greatest of victories.

Summer
. Her
name resonated through him, turning Lyra’s into a mere whisper of connection
and gratitude. The moment she’d shown him the picture of her sister, all other
women had ceased to exist.

His!
The
truth of it resonated throughout, every instinct, every dream, every desire
coalescing in a single magical, soul-deep proclamation.

He wanted to pounce. To nuzzle and lick and
bite. To taste and fuck. To thoroughly dominate.

His nostrils flared as he imagined Summer
naked, a sapphire collar tight around her neck, proclaiming to everyone who saw
her exquisite beauty that she belonged to him.

He knew what she was with a single glance.
Not just his mate, but his to do with as he pleased, to enjoy in all the ways
he might choose, to take pleasure from and give pleasure to.

Around him, more than one male radiated
envy and frustration that the first of the females brought to Drake’s Lair
specifically for the purpose of being claimed was now in another’s possession.
He would have counted himself among them only moments earlier, but not now.

Lyra was meant for a silver-and-gold
dragon. How Pierce, co-owner of the club along with Tielo, had known it and
made sure males with first forms of that color were present at Drake’s Lair,
was a question others could ask. He had a far more urgent one.

His hand tightened on the slim jewelry case
in his jacket pocket.
I think you’d come to regret giving this to me
,
Lyra had said, refusing his gift, then showing him the truth of his destiny
with a candid beach photograph catching the sultry Summer, eyes downcast as a
submissive’s would be, body calling out for a master.

Not just any master, but one willing to
discipline her. One who would take pleasure in exhibiting her and demonstrating
his ownership by commanding her as others watched her perfect behavior. He’d
been in this human realm long enough to know such things about a woman just by
looking at her, even if the female didn’t know it herself.

And Summer… His cock spasmed at
contemplating her image. The press of a tiny bikini against smooth skin, the
material dampened by ocean spray in a wet caress that revealed nipples
decorated with jewelry to accompany the flash of silver at her navel. And
more—hints of a clitoral hood piercing.

He fought against a shudder of anticipation
as desire roared through him in a dragon flame of possessive lust. He stiffened
against the need to grasp his cock and stroke it as he imagined burying it in
Summer’s mouth, her heated slit, her tight ass.

Had they been elsewhere, he might have
questioned Lyra about her sister before being forced behind the velvet rope
separating the poker game from the gathered audience, but not in a club full of
dragon males. And not on this night, when the majority of those present wanted
to claim a mate and were driven not just by biological imperative but by a fear
none of them would openly admit to having—that the Dragon’s Cup would disappear
again.

He resisted the rage that always
accompanied any thought of the wizard Enos, who had long ago tied dragon
fertility magic to an accursed chalice. For hundreds of years it’d been lost
after first passing through the hands of the fey, who had used the cup for
their entertainment at orgies that spilled over into the human realm.

Now it was recovered. Jubal glanced toward
the alcove where it sat on a pedestal, guarded by magic as well as dragon
males. Death would come swiftly to anyone who tried to steal the chalice,
though all knew there would be attempts, especially by the fey.

Pierce emerged from Tielo’s suite of rooms.
He was accompanied by those who’d carried the racks of golden coins used as
gaming chips at Drake’s Lair into the office, after Tielo had so cleverly
maneuvered his future mate into taking their game private. There’d soon be a
call for the cup to ensure future offspring, followed by a trip to the dragon
realm to solidify the magical bond between Tielo and Lyra.

Heat pooled in Jubal’s testicles as he
imagined Summer in his arms, helpless because she’d felt the rake of his mating
spurs across her skin, delivering ecstasy along with the serum that would make
her biologically compatible to one day carry a dragon’s young. Despite an
earlier claim of wanting at least ten children, he was in no hurry to
procreate—only to involve himself in the activities that led to it.

His hand tightened on the jewelry case as
he forced his mind away from what he would soon be doing to, and with, Summer.
He cast a glance around, a fiery, silent order to those anxious to learn when
additional females would visit the club, to stand back and allow him first
access to Pierce.

Smoke escaped in streams of protest from
more than one of the males. In his mind, Summer was already claimed, but he
knew as well as they did that possession, in this case, would be the law. There
would be no dragon guards present to enforce a sanctuary period. The first male
who got to her could do as their kind had done in times past, simply carry her
off to his lair, willing or not, conscious or not.

He didn’t know how many others had also
seen the picture of Summer. But he did know he could trust no one, save for
those who already had mates and those whose liege service he held.

The others yielded ground—for the moment.
He was not yet the power that princes Severn, Hakon and Malik were in this
realm, but he was not a male to carelessly or casually offend.

Apparently Pierce had anticipated his
request. The fey, one of the few Sidhe his kind trusted, held up his hand,
signaling a halt before Jubal could demand a private meeting and enough
information about Lyra so he could find her sister.
Now.
Because he
feared losing her. Because dragon nature and rigid cock demanded he get to his
mate and take possession of her immediately.

“Allow me to make some calls, Jubal,”
Pierce said.

Jubal’s nostrils flared. His body vibrated
with a twisting tension, a tight coil as dragon will slammed into the magical
construct of his human shell. Others would already be using what resources they
had in this realm to search for Summer, ignoring completely that Lyra had shown
him
the picture, had promised to introduce
him
to her sister. But
he would wait. Pierce had proven himself to be a friend to dragons, and given
that he must have known something about Lyra prior to her arrival, it was
possible he’d learned of the sister already. Possibly he’d set lesser fey to
tracking Summer, or even arranged for a witch to scry should events unfold as
they had.

Pierce disappeared into his office, closing
the door after him. Jubal swallowed flame rather than send a stream of it after
the fey lord, though in all likelihood, given Pierce’s affinity to fire, the
door would survive the blast.

His patience was tested to the extreme as
one minute became two and then three, stretching into seven and eight and nine.
He prowled. If much more time passed, he would see just how well warded Pierce
and his door were against dragon fury.

Grinding his teeth together, Jubal fought
the heart-stopping images of Summer being snatched by one of the others,
covered by another in both human and dragon form. It would be a return to the
old days if that happened, when it was a common belief that if a human female
survived the shock of being carried off by a terrifying beast and came to
accept that mate, she would eventually bond with a new mate after the first one
was dispatched and his treasure stolen.

* * * * *

Summer parked in one of the spots reserved
for nightclub employees. She was almost sorry she wasn’t working tonight.
Almost. Rockets was packed and the band was a good one. The tips would have
been excellent, but missing a full moon and the chance to ride some amazing
waves beneath it… No contest. She didn’t get the chance to do much good night
surfing anymore.

Entering through the front rather than
going around back, she was immediately sucked into the heat generated by a slow
song and a dance floor full of couples—gay and heterosexual alike. Longing
filled her, sending an ache flaring through her pussy and breasts, desire
heightened at watching the grind of bodies, the rub and press of cock to cunt
and cock to cock, accompanied by deep, drugging kisses.

The only thing wrong with the scene was all
the clothing. It turned her on to watch and be watched, for which she was glad.
If she’d never given in to the urge to explore that desire by going to a BDSM
club, then she might still be struggling to understand her sexuality and accept
it.

Luckily she was okay with who she was and
what she needed. She wanted to belong to a man, to be his possession totally
and completely, subject to his desires and his discipline. To wear his collar
like a slave and to call him master. Not twenty-four seven, but at home and at
the club, as it suited both of them, and that was the beauty of the BDSM
lifestyle—those involved in a relationship could define what it meant to them
and how they wanted to live it.

She was no pain slut wanting to explore the
extreme edges of the lifestyle, but being bound, feeling the lash of a flogger
or belt, the heat of a palm or a paddle against her ass, the shove of a man’s
cock or the insertion of toys at his command… Yeah, that did it for her. She
got wet just thinking about it.

The need was always there, building without
finding either complete or permanent relief. For a slave she was pretty damn
choosey. But then, she wasn’t looking to play with a lot of different men.
Casual play didn’t really satisfy her though she did engage in it sometimes, to
take the edge off when it got to the point where she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Face it, girl, you’re a one-man woman
looking for Mr. Right.
She grimaced at imagining
what her mother would say if she knew just where the hunt for him was taking
place. Then gave a soft laugh because, thanks to the lifestyle, Summer believed
she’d actually
know
her master when she met him. It’d be lust at first
sight, sure, but there’d also be recognition on a deeper level, something that
transcended the “getting to know you” date-dance of a vanilla couple.

Winding her way through the tightly packed
tables, she took time to stop and chat it up with some of the regulars, hugging
those who could use it, joking with others and handing out encouragement and
advice. That was her calling, what she did best, being there for people and
helping them where she could, sometimes only by listening. Her parents had
encouraged her to get a degree in psychology and become a counselor. She’d gone
to bartending school and had no regrets.

Finally reaching the bar, she slipped
behind it to open the cash register drawer and retrieve her paycheck. Simon was
pulling beer from a tap. He glanced over at her. “Guess who was here earlier,
bragging about going to Chains tonight?”

Chains was BDSM for the privileged elite.
One town over and not exactly a place most of the people she knew could get
into. Masters and subs didn’t even clean the equipment after using it; staff
took care of it between play sessions.

“Who?”

“Miles West.”

Summer frowned. “With Kei?”

“Nope. He was here with another guy, a
brunette with pretty long hair and very expensive jewelry. High end and high
maintenance, and well beyond Miles’ means I would have said. Every time I
looked their way, Miles was doing the crotch squeeze. Seemed like they might be
celebrating something.”

Summer’s heart sank. There were times when
she hated being right. This was one of them. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen
Kei.”

“Nope. No sign of him and I’m pulling a
double today.”

“Damn.” The bartending had only honed her
skill when it came to judging people. Miles had rubbed her the wrong way from
the very first night he’d shown up at In The Scene when she and Kei were there,
then started coming to Rockets, which catered more to a gay crowd than anything
else.

He’d set off alarm bells as a manipulator
working his own agenda. She’d tried to warn Kei off, but Kei was lonely and he
was an adult, and at the end of the day, everybody had to make their own
choices.

Why one of the regulars at Rockets or ITS
hadn’t snapped up Kei, she’d never understand. Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
In the same way there were far more women on the prowl than there were decent
available men, at least locally, when it came to gay men, into BDSM or not,
there seemed to be far more male “bottoms” who wanted to be on the receiving
end of penetration than there were “tops” who wanted to be the ones doing the
fucking. And when the desire for a committed relationship was thrown into the
mix, the impression of scarcity grew.

Still, Kei was downright beautiful. He was
mixed race, like her, but where she had a white father and black mother, Kei
was Japanese and Irish, maybe. Probably. He was coy about his background. But
his features made her think of a willowy Japanese doll, flawless skin, an
exotic slant of eyes framed by thick lashes, though he had dark red hair
instead of black.