by Alisa Woods
“Sorry for the show.” His voice is rough. He grabs his clothes and turns his back to slide on his pants, which gives me a spectacular view of his finely-sculpted ass. Every part of this man is beautiful. I’m still swallowing the dryness in my mouth—still completely out of words—when he turns back to face me. He starts to slide on his white shirt then sees the sleeve is shattered. Just shreds hang from it. He fucking growls then throws the thing to the floor in disgust. “Apparently, I’m out of practice.” He just stands there with his fabulously sculpted chest and bare feet, and I have to consciously close my mouth.
“Turning dragon takes… practice?” I croak out. I can’t believe I’m saying those words, but I’m not into denying what I see with my own eyes.
Nikolais Lord is a real-life dragon.
I struggle up to standing—I think better on my feet, not sprawled on the floor.
“Yes.” His face is strangely blank. Like he’s holding back a thousand emotions. “I imagine you have questions.”
“I have so many questions.” My heart skips a beat. I should be afraid. I should be screaming my fucking head off and running—because the talons on this guy, not to mention his fucking fangs—but all I’ve got raging through my head is an insane need to know. What is this? How is this possible? How does it all work? Why, for the love of cable news, is he showing this to me? I’ve never been able to hold back the curiosity beast when it rears up, no matter the danger. That was what made me so good in the field, on location, embedded with troops—wherever the story was.
The story is definitely here.
But the glower on Lord’s face is just getting darker. “You can’t tell anyone, Ember.”
Shit. He did say something about that. “Sure. Of course.” I’d say anything at this point to get more on this.
“And we need to talk.” Now he just looks weary. “But not here.”
A small bubble of alarm trickles up from somewhere sane in my brain. “Where are we going?”
But he speaks to the other guy instead. “I need a shirt.”
“You can have mine.” He starts to quickly unbutton, then just hauls the black silk shirt over his head and tosses it to Lord, who slides it on.
I can’t help staring at his friend—Aleks is his name—because he’s built, just like Lord. “Wait, did you say… you’re all dragons?”
“Try to keep that to yourself while we’re walking through the castle.” Lord seems testy like he’s still bothered by having to put on the new shirt. He finishes that then kneels down to quickly slide on his shoes.
I look away since my scrutiny seems to bother him. Instead, I give Aleks an appreciative look. “Are you a black dragon, too?” I say it like it’s the hottest thing I can think of. Which, to be honest, isn’t far wrong. My mind is on fire with this.
Panic flits across Aleks’s face like I’m not supposed to talk to him, just Lord. “Um… yeah? I mean, most of the lair—” He cuts himself off and dashes a look to Lord.
I lift an eyebrow. “Lair?” I pivot to Lord again. “Is that what you call your castle?”
He’s done with his shoes. “This isn’t going to be easy for you, is it?” There’s a little menace behind it, and I try to reel in my rabid reporter. There’s something dark in all this—we’re talking hidden dragons, sex parties, lots and lots of money—and it would be smart to be at least a little careful before plunging in headfirst. If that’s even possible for me.
“Just dying inside of curiosity,” I say, trying to lighten things. Plus, it’s true.
It works. A tiny smile flashes across his face then disappears. “Come with me.”
My wrist is still smarting from the leather handcuff, but all that is forgiven if this is what he was protecting. A world of secret dragon people. How can he keep such a thing secret? Especially with all the people circulating through the castle? And what’s up with that? The questions keep tumbling through my head, but I keep it zipped while we stride down the basement hallway to an elevator at the end. Aleks trails behind us, but he doesn’t come inside.
“See if anyone’s seen her sister,” Lord says, voice rough again.
Aleks whips out his phone and takes a quick picture of me as the elevator door is closing.
“You really meant it,” I say, impressed now in the context of what little I know. “I mean, when you said you wanted to help find her.”
He’s staring at the elevator doors. “I doubt she’s been to the castle.” He swings a look to me as the elevator slows. “Someone like you wouldn’t have gone unnoticed.”
I’m not sure what he means. “She’s not like me.” I frown as the door opens, and he waits for me to go first. “I mean, she looks like me, but you can tell the difference.”
“Meaning she doesn’t break and enter?”
I scowl. “There was no breaking involved.”
He smirks and directs me down a hallway as elaborately decorated as the rest of the castle. There are several side doors and one large golden door at the end. A dragon is carved in the panel, and its tail wraps around the top of the door. He slips a keycard out of his pants pocket and waves it at the door—it clicks and swings open on its own.
Okay, then. The reclusive dragon billionaire is bringing me to his private quarters? Just to talk, like he said, I’m sure. Although I don’t mind seeing his naked and very pleasing form pop up in my head. Is that where this is going? I can’t say that I’d mind, although what exactly is the procedure for sleeping with a half-man, half-beast? That stirs way too much excitement between my legs—and I need to focus on the sexiness of this story, not the lickable body of the guy attached to it.
Lord walks me through his apartment, which is beyond lavish in décor—white rugs, gilt mirrors, marble, and black-and-white leather everywhere. Very modern and pristine and expensive as hell. Where does Lord get his money? All my research showed was inherited money from his American-born father and old-money from Greece. Lord opens a large, glass double-door and ushers me out onto a wide balcony. It overlooks the water, which is sparkling dark; the moon has yet to rise, and the islands are far enough apart that any light from the nearest is too dim to shine on the water. But a million stars fill the sky—you can’t see anything like this in the city.
He’s watching me soak it in. “Would you like to take a ride?”
I frown. “A ride—”
He shifts again, and my heart lurches with surprise. He’s as dark as the night and so close I can touch him. Which I would except my whole body seems locked up from the shock. He rumbles a little—like a storm somewhere in the depths of his voluminous chest. Then he dips his head again, only this time he settles all the way down, limbs folded until he’s flat against the balcony.
“This is the ride?” My voice is a whisper. Is he fucking serious?
He twists his head back on that long, serpentine neck. I shy away from that snout full of dagger-like teeth, but he’s just shuffling me with his nose toward his back. Am I supposed to climb up? How am I supposed to hold on? What if I fall?
Cause of death: falling from a midnight-black dragon.
Not that anyone would ever know.
But who am I kidding? I’m not passing this up.
I’m a little tentative at first—how does one mount a dragon?—but then the scales aren’t as slippery as they look, and they’re warm, and I finally manage to scramble up his folded front leg and straddle his neck with his wings behind me. He rises slowly, just straightening his legs, then suddenly, his wings unfold and flap… and we’re in the air! My knees clench tight onto his neck, and I desperately grab at a bony ridge that’s just right for gripping. I hold tight, both hands and legs, and an answering rumble shudders deep inside his body. The sound is carried away by the wind in my face. I am flying… on a dragon. The stars above and the water and inky blackness of islands below make it feel like we’re alone in the universe—just the wind, the hum of the dragon between my legs, and a distant whip-poor-will cry in the night.
&n
bsp; I almost forget to breathe… and when I do, it’s gasping and erratic. I don’t want it to end, but it quickly does. We drop fast, my stomach left behind as we swoop and alight on another balcony, this one dark and made of crumbling stone. The dragon—Nikolais Lord, I remind myself, because this is all just too crazy—kneels down again, flattening out so I can dismount. Which I quickly do, breathless and feeling alive in a way that makes my heart stutter even when I’m standing still. I notice he’s carried his clothes in his talons just before he shifts again. This time, I turn away and face the water, which is peeking through the night canopy of trees, giving him privacy to get dressed, but not before I see that he’s once again at attention. Does shifting always give him a hard-on? Or is it something about me? Which is ridiculous, but the questions about all this are bursting in my head. And the ache between my legs is reminding me how long it’s been since I properly had a man between them. If Nikolais Lord can thrill my private parts with a dragon ride, what could that world-class body do as a human in bed?
Goosebumps rise over my entire body.
Holy shit, Ember, pull it together. I wipe the naked lust off my face—I hope—and turn back to face Lord.
He’s smiling as he buttons his shirt. “You took that in stride.”
“You didn’t rip your shirt this time.”
He scowls, but it doesn’t dim his smile. “Come inside.” He tips his head, leaving his shoes on the balcony and throwing open the door that led to it. With a snap of his fingers, the place lights up inside. There’s a canopy draped bed, which sends a flush through me, but Lord heads toward a red velvet couch. The furnishings all seem ancient but well-kept. The place is clean and maintained, unlike the crumbling stone of the balcony.
“This is a little retreat of mine.” He casually takes a seat on the couch and pats the cushion for me to sit. As I slowly sink into the crushed velvet, he continues, “It was the first home we built in America. I spent a lot of nights here, alone,” he emphasizes, “trying to figure out what to do next.”
“I thought you were born in America.” I take a closer look at the furnishings. They’re antiques from a different era.
Lord is frowning like he expects better from me.
My eyebrows slowly lift to the top of my head. “All of it is a cover story.”
His smile is slow but broad. “Which part do you want to know first?”
My heart rate kicks up a notch. I slip off my shoes—now barefoot like him—and fold my legs up on the couch, fidgeting into place while I sort through what I want to know. What I’m dying to know. “How old are you?”
“Two hundred and nineteen.” His eyes sparkle. The lights in the room are modern, fake candles on the wall.
“Shut up. You look thirty.”
“We don’t age much after that.”
How does he expect me to believe that? Then again… why not? “This is your first home in America—where was your home before that?”
Some of the sparkle fades. “I was born in a lair outside Athens.”
“Athens, Greece,” I verify. When he nods, I add, “Why come here?”
He frowns and draws in a breath, letting it out slow. “Doesn’t take you long to get to the heart of the matter, does it, Ms. Dubois?”
“Call me Ember.”
That brings a smile to his face—a damn sexy smile. “I’m Niko to my friends.”
My heart does a small jitter. “Am I your friend?” We are definitely something here.
“I’d like you to be.” His gaze drops for just a second to my lips then bounces back to my eyes. “It’s safer that way. For me.” He’s searching my eyes now, asking for something without asking.
I’m transfixed. “What does a rich man who’s also a dangerously powerful dragon have to fear?”
He dips his head and reaches for my hand. I let him because, honestly, every inch of my skin is lit up just being near enough to touch. He takes my scraped-up wrist in one hand and rubs his thumb lightly over the marks. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he says softly, then peers at me. “Will you let me fix it?”
“Fix it?” Damn, who’s doing the seducing here? I’m supposed to be wheedling information out of him. But whatever works… “Fix it how?”
His sexy smile and lit-up eyes capture me while he scoots even closer on the couch. He pulls my hand up to his face, my wrist by his lips like he’s going to kiss it, but he doesn’t. “Dragon saliva has some mild healing properties. All of our bodily fluids do. That’s part of the longevity of our kind.” He holds my gaze while he brushes his lips across the inside of my wrist. Then his tongue slips out, and the tip traces figure-eights across my skin.
“Are you kidding me?” I breathe. It’s so hot, I’m in danger of melting. Worse, I might throw myself on him right here on the couch.
He grins and laps one more time at my wrist, then lets me go.
I nearly topple forward on the couch, pulling my dignity and my wrist back only at the last second. It’s tingly and wet and cool with the slight breeze off the balcony but when I look at it… the red marks are gone. Pretty sure my eyes are bugging out.
“There’s a lot to know about us.”
When I look up, the smirk and the smolder are gone. “I want to know it all.”
He frowns. “I’m still not sure I can trust you, Ms. Dubois. Ember.”
I scowl because he has me completely off balance. And I’m not sure he’s wrong. How can I possibly keep any of this a secret? “What happens to me if I don’t keep quiet? Just so we’re clear about that.” I’m thinking roasted journalist on a stick. Do dragons eat humans? Or just the traitorous ones?
He nods. “That’s the right question to ask.” He leans back, breaking up our cozy space, and takes another deep breath. Then he meets my searching gaze again. “We have enemies. They’re nearly immortal, much longer-lived than we are, yet they hate us. Two hundred years ago, they waged a genocidal war against dragon kind. Not really a war, actually. They wiped us out in a day. Simultaneous strikes on all dozen lairs across the planet. It took us a while to figure that out—communication was much less efficient back then.”
My mouth is hanging open again. “But… why? And who?” Immortal beings? A whisper in the back of my brain warns me that I’m not keeping any journalistic skepticism here. But I can’t help it. This is all too fantastical to know what not to believe.
“They’re the Vardigah, a kind of dark elves. They have a natural enemy—the Dhogerthu, the light elves—and they kept the Vardigah in check forever, at least as far back as dragon lore goes. As a result, the Vardigah mostly left us alone. But something must have happened to the Dhogerthu—maybe the Vardigah finally defeated them? They both live in a separate realm. Not easy to reach. And needless to say, we don’t go there voluntarily. As for why… well, that part we know fairly well.” He leans forward again, peering into my eyes. “But this part is most sensitive of all, Ember. I need to know you understand the stakes here. If you announce to the world you’ve found hidden dragons in the Thousand Islands in upstate New York, the Vardigah will find us. And they’ll destroy every last one of us.”
I’m shaking my head, not because I don’t believe him—I do. It’s not as if the world isn’t filled with genocidal monsters who mostly lack the ability to enact their evil desires. And some do have the means. There’s a lot of killing in the world. I’ve seen it up close. Why would magical creatures be any different?
“I wouldn’t put anyone at risk for a story. Certainly not an entire people.” That I can promise easily enough. I need to make sure this is actually true—my journalistic sense is rearing its practical brain again—but if it is, I’ll take the secret of these dragon people to the grave.
He smiles, and it’s sweet, almost goofy. The same smile he had in the office when he had me pinned to the floor. “I knew you were Dragon Spirited.”
“Huh?”
He leans back, but the smile doesn’t go away. Then he rubs his hand across his mouth, almost
like he’s trying to wipe away the giddiness. “My people have prided themselves on being noble of spirit. To be dragon is to fight for justice in the world. For what’s good and right.”
I cock my head to the side. “Kinda full of yourselves, are you?”
He laughs, but it’s light-hearted. “We can be.” Then he leans forward and whispers, “We like to hoard things, too. The more precious, the better.”
“Okay, that’s just funny.” But I’m not entirely sure he’s joking.
“We have other powers, but most of them come once we’re mated.” The humor is gone now, and he’s watching my reaction.
“I’m sorry… mated?” My curiosity springs to attention. “How does that work?”
“It’ll sound strange to you,” he warns, but I recognize a tease when I hear one. “It’s not like human mating rituals.”
“Then you absolutely need to tell me.” I’m fighting my own smirk. And the rush that’s heating my body. Whatever kink the dragons are into—they had a hell of a dungeon down there, so I will guess that’s part of it—I could easily be all-in for exploring it with the hot Mr. Nikolais Lord. If this can’t be a story, then all bets are off; besides, there are plenty of secret sources I’ve romped with before because why not? There are only so many chances you’ll have to bang an agent of the CIA.
“I’ll tell you…” His eyes are drinking me in now. “But I doubt you’ll believe it.”
“Try me.” He’s killing me with this lead-up.