IK2 (5 page)

cabretta leather of the overstuffed sofa in the penthouse suite of one of Dallas‟ most

luxurious hotels. His silk bathrobe lay open and he spread his legs so the naked woman

kneeling in front of him could have better access to his cock. He pushed her head down.

“I said suck it.
Hard
. And take it
all
. You are not pleasing me.”

Obligingly, Morgan widened her mouth and stretched her throat until she

consumed the length of him.

“That‟s better,” he said and reached down to pinch her nipples until she

whimpered in pain. There was so much pleasure in giving pain. And Morgan liked it as

much as he did. He felt his shaft grow harder.

“Take her from behind,” he instructed his newest minion, Carl Landon. Apart

from owing over a hundred thousand dollars in gambling debt to Baylor, the kid was a

darn good screwer. And Baylor enjoyed watching as much as doing. “My treat.”

The athletic young man grinned and lost no time in unzipping his jeans and

plunging deep inside her, his thrusts hard and fast. Morgan moaned and sucked harder.

Baylor glanced sideways at Alan Caldwell who was sitting in an armchair across

from him. His expression was grim and Baylor almost smiled. Caldwell had a thing for

Morgan and it nearly killed him having to watch two other men using her.

Not that the bitch minded being used. When Caldwell had recruited her to help

him get rid of that pesky witch, Sara Kincaid, she had let him know—in no uncertain

terms—that she wanted to be a model. Baylor had arranged to make that happen, but he

enjoyed the extra bit of malice in making Caldwell watch and not touch, especially since the man hated him. Caldwell was loyal only because Baylor knew where his fragile,

elderly mother lived.

Baylor let his gaze slide over to Toby Clark who, as usual, fidgeted. The kid was

lanky and looked like a nerd and was mild- mannered to boot. The perfect combination to be any bully‟s victim. Knowing that Clark‟s virginal sister was wheelchair-bound made

him an even more perfect mark.

“Did you make any progress with the vet?” he asked.

Toby swallowed nervously. “I think so. The other reporters were accusing her of

setting up a publicity stunt and I acted like the nice guy.”

“And?”

He swallowed again. “I‟m going back tomorrow morning and ask for an

interview.”

Baylor grunted and spurted into Morgan‟s mouth, then pushed her face away.

Carl gave a final thrust and finished as well.

“See that you don‟t fail me this time,” Baylor said to Toby.

Toby‟s face turned bright red. “Yes, sir.”

“Caldwell. I‟ll need for you go back to that lunatic Smith and tell him you got an

offer to write a book and you want to include a chapter on his weaponry. The vet and

that damn warlock paid him a visit before the dragon was sighted. Somehow that nutcase

is involved in this and I want you to stay close.”

“Got it.”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 19

“Landon, you‟re going to be the stakeout. Stay hidden, but follow the warlock.”

“I could follow Michael,” Morgan said.

One of Baylor‟s brows lifted and he almost smiled. He knew the little bitch was

hot to rut with the warlock. “I‟m sure you would like nothing better than to follow him, but I want you to infiltrate the vet‟s clinic. The media is going to be pouncing and you do have a gift for public relations.” Public sexual relations too, he thought.

She looked disappointed, but nodded.

“That‟s my pet,” he said. “Now go, all of you. I want everyone positioned by

tomorrow. We have to find out what the second verse to the damn riddle is. I do not

intend to lose the sword as well.”

He waited for several minutes to be sure they had all cleared the hotel and then he

called for his car to be brought around. He had discovered a ley line—a source of

universal energy—not far from the Dallas County line, near a lake. It would be from

there that he would call the white dragon.

The white dragon had beaten the red in Vortigern‟s time. With Baylor‟s help, the

white would destroy the red this time and evil would gain a stronger foothold in the

world.

Baylor smiled, anticipating the outcome of that.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 20

The knight crested the hill, silhouetted against bright moonlight that dappled the

rocky crevices lining the canyons of Palo Pinto County. It reflected on his armor. The
big destrier pawed the ground, anxious to charge.

Sophie‟s eyes flicked from him to the dragon that sat atop a butte across a small

ravine. It puffed small balls of smoke, much as an old train steam engine stoking up to
move forward.

Her feet were rooted to the ground between them. “It‟s going to attack!” she

screamed at the knight, but only a small squeak emerged.

He looked down at her and pulled his sword. The dragon snorted, shooting fire

that set the sword aflame. The great warhorse reared as the knight turned it for the
charge. But instead of thundering toward the dragon, the knight was coming toward her.

Sophie willed her legs to run, but they would not move. The dragon snorted

again, but the sound was almost like laughter as the knight descended on her. My God,
she was going to be trampled!

At the last moment, the horse skidded to a stop, clumps of grass and dirt

scattering around her. The knight slid from the saddle, the flaming sword still in his
hand and reached for her…

And suddenly it was Michael who was holding her, clad only in leather breeches,

the sword and armor gone. His bare chest felt like smooth, chiseled marble as his hands
stroked up and down her back, soothing her.

“The dragon will not hurt you,” he whispered as he bent to nuzzle her neck,,

sending pleasant little shivers down her spine.

Her weak spot—kiss her nape and her knees turned to putty— whatever thoughts

she might have had flitted away like dandelion silk on the wind. How did he know?

Michael‟s dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “I know all about you. I am

going to make you mine.”

Like hell he was. Hadn‟t she already made the message clear—and then, he

nuzzled her neck again, this time mouthing her skin softly as he trailed kisses to her
earlobe. A little mewling sound escaped her throat.

“You wanted to say something?” he whispered and before she could, his mouth

covered hers, seductive and persuasive.

Dear Lord! Who could have thought a man‟s lips could be so soft and firm at the

same time? And warm and dry while his tongue was wet and hot? And when had she

opened her mouth to let him in? But he certainly was in, his tongue doing a wicked

impersonation of what his other member would do.

He tasted of some spice she could not identify and smelled slightly of salt-air and

heather, as though they were on were on Scottish moors rather than in Texas. It was a
heady combination and the world tilted as she pressed suddenly heavy, swollen breasts
against him. His hands slid down her back and grasped her buttocks, bringing her fully
against his large, granite-hard erection.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 21

“Let me make love to you,” he whispered as he took them both slowly to the

ground…

Sophie landed with a thump on the floor beside her bed. She squinted in the dark

room illuminated only by the wash of moonlight streaming through her window onto the

hardwood floor. The silence told her she was alone. There certainly was no dragon or

knight with a flaming sword. And there was no Michael.

She disentangled herself from the twisted bed sheets that had accompanied her

fall, picked herself up and sat on the edge of the bed. To her chagrin, her breasts tingled, her nipples were tight, and there was warm moisture between her legs.

For the past year, since her galling divorce from her cheating husband, she had

not even entertained a thought of dating anyone. Her body had numbed and become

neutral and that was how she wanted it. Much safer than to allow a man to play with her emotions again. Too much pain….

Why in the world had she dreamed about Michael McCain? And who was the

knight with the flaming sword?

* * * *

The dragon curled its tail around its claws with a clanging of metal sca les and

settled on the hardened earth of the cave he‟d found near Crawford Mountain. He

snorted, puffs of smoke streaming out the entrance. It could hardly be called a cave—

more like a hollowed out crevice beneath a shale overhang—and he barely fit, but it was

close to the girl he needed to protect. He sighed, careful not to shoot flames that would ignite the scrub brush that attached itself to the rocky hillsides. Brighid had not allowed him to take his hoard of gold and silver with him, telling him he needed to focus his

dragon‟s lust for bright, shiny objects on finding Excalibur before Balor did.

His problem was that he didn‟t know where to begin in this very strange world

that moved so fast. He‟d been sleeping and dreaming peacefully for fifteen hundred

years, thankful to be away from humans. The last he knew was that Galahad had taken

the Grail and several other relics to Sarras to keep the Saxons from discovering them.

Brighid had told him a group of warrior monks called Templars had rescued the treasure

and returned it to Scotland, but because of unrest there as well, the Sinclair Protector had removed them to a foreign land called America.

He shook his great head, dislodging small fragments of sandstone overhead, and

sighed once more. He had frightened the mortal girl the night before when he‟d followed her home. He had forgotten how humans reacted to his kind. But this one cared for

animals, which wasn‟t unusual considering her real ancestry. Perhaps if she saw more of

him she would lose her fear.

Setlling his massive jaw between his claws and the spiky tip of his tail, he shut his

eyes to nap and plan his strategy.

Seconds later, he opened them wide as the scales on top of his head fanned out in

spears of defense. Another dragon was near.

Brighid had told him no dragons walked the earth any more. Cautiously, he

breathed in the air. It was not that close—perhaps a good twenty leagues away—but he

now recognized the scent.

Sigurd. The damn, white dragon that Hengist and Horsa had brought with them.

They had battled before and Pendragon had ultimately lost when Arthur was killed.

This time, he would win.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 22

He had to.

* * * *

Sophie peered out the window of the clinic again. Yep, the reporters were still

there, hovering like vultures waiting for the next kill. She‟d managed to elude them by

retreating to the Palo Pinto County Clinic yesterday, but the AP had gotten wind of the

story and the phone was ringing off the hook. Her vet partner, Allison, needed her back.

With a sigh, she turned back to her computer and Googled “Dragons” once more.

Two days had passed without any return of the dragon—except in that weird

dream she had.

Her cell phone rang again and she groaned. Robert had left at least a dozen voice

mails since the sighting. She glanced at the Caller ID and frowned slightly. Toby Clark.

Of all the reporters, he was the only one who hadn‟t accused her of setting up some sort of publicity stunt for her clinic. She pressed her answer button.

“Hello, Mr. Clark.”

His voice sounded cheerful. “Dr. Cameron? I was wondering if I could do a

human interest story on you?”

“I thought it was the dragon—or whatever it was--everyone was interested in.

Why would you want to do a story on me?”

“The tie-in would be great,” he replied. “You‟re a vet. You heal animals. Maybe

the dragon is ill and needed your help?”

Sophie almost smiled. The dragon—or whatever it was—she was still not to sure

she was ready to accept what should be a myth as reality—certainly had appeared

healthy, if nothing else. “I really think it was just circumstantial that it hovered here.”

“But maybe not. Look, I‟m a rookie at this reporting stuff,” he said with a note of

desperation in his voice. “If you give me an exclusive interview, it would really go a

long way with my boss. Plus, once you‟ve given the story, most of this pack will melt

away.”

Sophie glanced out the window again. That would be a help. Potential adopters

were having a hard time getting past the crowd. “Okay,” she said, “but I can‟t do it for a couple more days. We‟re swamped right now.”

Toby hesitated and she was wondering how insistent he was going to get. He

sounded sweet and nice, but she knew media types were predatory. To her surprise, he

didn‟t argue. Instead, they set a time for Wednesday morning.

She had just turned back to the computer when Janie, their assistant, appeared in

the door. “There‟s a man here to see you,” she said.