About a Dragon

by G. A. Aiken

  She stared down at him with those cold grey eyes made larger by the glass over each one. He did find those interesting. He’d never seen anything like that before. He wondered why she wore them.

  “Are you done?” she asked coldly.

  “Sorry, uh…Beast.” He snorted out another laugh, but choked it back.

  “Dagmar will do. Dagmar Reinholdt. Thirteenth child of The Reinholdt and his only female.”

  Northerners mostly breeded males, often forced to steal their females from the south. Even the lightning dragons mostly hatched males. It was as if the land was too cold and desolate for females to be born here.

  “I asked your queen here because I have news that may save her life and the lives of her unborn whelps.”

  Gwenvael frowned, not appreciating anyone referring to his brother’s little bastards as “whelps”.

  “Tell me, sweet Dagmar,” he mocked. “And I’ll tell her.”

  The female blinked. Once. “No.”

  Gwenvael pushed himself up a bit so that his snout was barely inches from her nose. “What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean, you’ve insulted me. You’ve insulted my kin. And you’ve insulted The Reinholdt. So you can return to your bitch queen and you can watch her die.”

  With that, Dagmar Reinholdt turned on her heel and walked away from him. She stopped after a few feet, glancing at him over her shoulder, and said, “Now that, dragon…that’s funny.”

  She walked back into the fortress and the soldiers closed rank. Gwenvael scrambled to his feet and stared at Sigmar Reinholdt, but the no-neck clan leader only shook his head.

  “You are a bit of a dumb bastard, aren’t ya, dragon?” he said without a bit of pity. “We don’ call her The Beast cause we’re bored, ya know? She’ll tell ya nothin’ now.”

  With a resigned sigh, the man followed after his daughter and his sons followed after him.

  The soldiers closed up ranks with their weapons drawn. They now blocked the gates and Gwenvael knew they’d never willingly let him enter.

  Not sure what else to do, Gwenvael took to the skies, his mind racing. He couldn’t go back to Dark Plains and his kin with, “I pissed her off so much she wouldn’t tell me anything.” Fearghus would have his ass for supper. Not only that, but he wouldn’t allow anyone to harm Annwyl or her children. No matter what they might or might not be, they were still his kin and he’d protect the little bastards like he would any of his siblings’ hatchlings.

  Unfortunately, he had only one option. He’d wait until dark and then snatch the little bitch from the fortress. She was female after all, and if there was one thing Gwenvael the Handsome knew how to do—it was how to handle a female.

  Gwenvael grinned, his fangs showing as he headed for the safety of the mountains and nightfall. A few hours with him and he’d have The Beast begging to tell him what she knew—and then he’d just have her begging.

  About the Author

  G.A. Aiken lives on the West Coast and spends most of her time writing and making sure her dog never gets off-leash. Over the last few years she's juggled a full-time job as a Managing Editor for a marketing department with her career as an author, using every lunch break, late night, and weekends to write her books.

  Look for these titles by G. A. Aiken

  Now Available:

  Dragon Actually

  Is Emma ready for a bite?

  The Wallflower

  © 2008 Dana Marie Bell

  A Hunting Love story.

  Halle Puma Series, Book 1

  Emma Carter has been in love with Max Cannon since high school, but he barely knew she existed. Now she runs her own unique curio shop, and she’s finally come out her shell and into her own.

  When Max returns to his small home town to take up his duties as the Halle Pride’s Alpha, he finds that shy little Emma has grown up. That small spark of something he’d always felt around the teenager has blossomed into something more—his mate!

  Taking her “out for a bite” ensures that the luscious Emma will be permanently his.

  But Max’s ex has plans of her own. Plans that don’t include Emma being around to interfere. To keep her Alpha, Emma must prove to the Pride that she has what it takes to be Max’s mate.

  Warning: This title contains explicit sex, graphic language, loads of giggles and a hot, blond Alpha male.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Wallflower:

  Emma realized Max had stopped moving. Looking up at him, she found him staring down at her with a quizzical look. “Well?”

  Emma blushed. She’d been rubbernecking in Max’s house, trying to take in everything at once. “It’s incredible.”

  He smiled with satisfaction. “If there’s anything you want to change, you’ll have to let me know.” Gently he placed her on the quilt. “This is now as much your house as mine.”

  Emma’s mouth fell open as he toed off his shoes and socks. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Max began unbuttoning his shirt, diverting her attention from his whole “Mi casa es su casa” attitude. “I was in Simon’s shop when you called about the Madonna, you know.”

  “Oh. Really?” she replied absently. She could barely speak as Max unveiled the finest chest it had ever been her privilege to see. It was lightly sprinkled with light brown hairs, trailing down his stomach to point directly into his pants. Dark brown nipples peeped out from the hair, tempting her into some very sinful thoughts.

  “Yes, I was. And you know what?”

  Emma didn’t know her own name; Max was unbuttoning his jeans. “Um, nope.”

  “You live up to your voice,” Max purred as he slipped his jeans down his legs.

  “Urgh,” Emma choked, “naked.” She could feel her eyes bugging out of her head. Max went commando. A sinful buffet of man-flesh was laid out before her in one single sweep of his hands. She didn’t know whether to sigh or to sob.

  “Yes, I am.” Max laughed huskily. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Emma bit her lip, a sudden attack of shyness nearly paralyzing her. Max didn’t know it yet, but he’d be her first, and from the look on his face she’d better tell him soon.

  “Max?” Emma sat there, her hands clenched in her lap, her gaze riveted to his cock. The thing looked huge, all veined and red, and pointed straight at her. A small drop of liquid seeped from the slit. It twitched a salute to her rapt attention.

  “Yes, Emma?”

  Her gaze lifted to his; unknown to her, they’d turned pure, molten gold. “You remember the talk of other men?”

  He growled low in his throat and crawled onto the bed.

  “Eep,” she whispered, lying down as he prowled up her body.

  “You were saying?” he whispered huskily as he settled his naked body between her thighs. He brushed against her cheek with his lips, a caress so soft she barely felt it. It sent a shiver down her spine. Those same lips continued their incredible journey, trailing down the side of her neck to settle on the bite he’d given her outside the restaurant. Goose bumps raced up and down her arms as he moved his hips in a sinuous motion, brushing his naked cock against her mound.

  “Um, there weren’t,” she squeaked, unconsciously arching up into his body as he scrapped his teeth along his mark.

  “Weren’t what?” he muttered, one hand moving up to start sliding her camisole up her stomach. He paused long enough to caress her there, trailing fire in his wake.

  “Any other men.”

  His hand stopped.

  His mouth stopped.

  His hips stopped. She was really sad when his hips stopped.

  “You’re a virgin?” His voice sounded oddly strangled.

  “It’s not a crime to be one, you know. I’m not the Oldest Living Virgin, or anything. It’s not like I’m in the Guinness Book of World Records,” she babbled. “Besides, I’ve done other things…oh!” His hands had started moving again, with a swiftness that startled her. Her camisole was toast as he ripped it literally from her body, hi
s claws barely scrapping her skin, sending shivers of need once again down her spine.

  Claws?

  Emma had barely registered the fact that Max had used his claws to ruin her favorite shirt when he started working on her jeans. “No! Bad kitty!” She slapped him on the top of his head, determined to save at least some of her wardrobe.

  He lifted his head, his eyes golden and burning, a rumbling sound emanating from his throat as he pinned her hands above her head. Emma thought about struggling, but something about the way he looked had her lying passively. “You’re a virgin.”

  Emma blinked, unsure how to respond. “Duh.”

  Max stared down at her, his eyes narrowing as he studied her features as if seeing her for the very first time. “No man has ever touched you.”

  She thought about telling him about the make-out sessions her one and only boyfriend had talked her into, the oral sex they’d indulged in a few times, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Jimmy was a nice guy, and deserved to live. “Again. Duh.”

  “No man will ever touch you again.”

  Emma studied granite-like features above her. “Even you?” The growl deepened. She sighed, inexplicably happy to hear that sound. “Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Duh.” She grinned. “By the way, Lion-O, that was my favorite shirt.”

  He looked down. “Damn, Emma.”

  “What?” She looked down, expecting to see something odd, like very dried alfredo sauce decorating one boob or something. Instead she saw the pale pink lace bra she’d put on that morning, the one that was completely see-through. It helped give her confidence to feel the sexy lingerie against her skin, so much so she’d replaced all of her old undies with the lacy stuff.

  From the look, and feel, of things, Max definitely approved.

  Max switched her wrists into one hand. The other trailed down her body to her jeans, undoing the snap and zipper with ease. “Lift your ass, Emma,” he commanded. She obeyed without thinking, shifting so he could ease her jeans down her legs.

  He hissed out a breath at the sight of the pale pink lace panties that matched the bra. Underneath, she was hairless. “A full Brazilian,” he sighed.

  “Uh-huh.”

  He moved his hand and began petting her over her panties, cupping her intimately. “Mine,” he sighed. His golden eyes bored into hers, a silent command in them. “Keep your hands where they are.”

  “Why?” Emma complied as Max moved his hand slowly from her wrists, trailing down her arm to the side of her breast.

  “Because I’m not ready for you to touch me yet. I want this first time to be yours.”

  “I’d rather it was ours.” She gasped as his hand gently embraced her breast. His thumb strummed gently over her nipple, causing it to peak under the pink bra.

  “Trust me, Curana. The pleasure will be ours.” Slowly, oh so slowly, Max lowered his head. His tongue snaked out and licked over her nipple through the lace, watching her reactions as she gasped softly. “I’m going to get you naked now, Emma.” He lifted his head from her breast. “Leave your hands where they are. Remember, Emma.”

  Max gently pulled the cups of her bra down, resting her breasts on the lowered cups until they looked like an offering laid out on pink lace. He bent and suckled one nipple into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue until she writhed against him, panting and moaning in need. He switched to the other nipple, suckling and nipping with such force it was nearly painful. Emma panted, damn near coming from the sensation.

  He pulled away from her. “Uh-uh, little Emma,” he purred. “No coming unless I’m in you, remember?”

  She groaned as he moved down her body. His hands went to her lacy panties, thumbs hooking under the band. With slow deliberation he pulled them from her body, slowly exposing her to his hot gaze. “You were right, Emma, to stop me before.” He looked up with a grin that made her moan. “I’d forgotten how much fun it is to play with my food.”

  And with that, Max began a sensuous torture that had her writhing with need.

  An immortal soldier defies the ancient Gods he serves and puts his existence and the world at risk when he saves the life of the mortal woman he swore to kill.

  Immortal Protector

  © 2007 Ursula Bauer

  Gideon Sinclair, an immortal, shape-shifting soldier, defies the ancient gods he serves, risking his existence and the future of the mortal world, when he saves the life of the woman he was sworn to kill: Dr. Megan Carter. For centuries he’s fought for justice and balance in the eternal struggle between good and evil. Gideon challenges destiny and the forces aligning against her, but when Meg becomes more than a mission, will he be able to accept the healing love she offers or will their enemies and the demons of his past be their undoing?

  Meg’s accidental contact with an artifact sacred to the Goddess Isis thrusts her into the midst of a centuries old battle between two rival gods, and makes her the target of a crazed magician bent on unlocking the secrets of immortality. With nowhere to turn and no one to trust, she puts her life in the hands of the lethal, enigmatic Gideon, and is drawn into his dark world. She can’t resist the passionate desire he stirs, but will she pay the ultimate price when she falls for a man who no longer has a heart?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Immortal Protector:

  Meg was out of the car and moving, any thoughts of her own safety gone from her mind. Gideon started to come round as she ran up her walk. The demon moved slower, as if in pain. She trampled the pansies and pulled the sword from the marigolds. The creature took note of her, snorted, and kept walking towards the immortal.

  Gideon got to his knees, saw the demon coming down with a vicious swing, and lurched to the side. He rolled into the spill and came up on his feet just in time to sidestep another strike. This close Meg could see the other wounds. His shirt was sliced in a few spots, and blood poured freely. His cheekbone was bruised, and he was favoring his right leg.

  The blade felt incredibly light in her hands. Her heart rammed hard against her ribs. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. But she managed. She put one foot in front of the other, and reached him just before the demon.

  “Run. Meg. Run,” he ground out between clenched teeth. He grabbed the sword from her and lunged.

  Meg stepped clear and started to back away as the two engaged in a series of traded strikes. The demon pivoted on the last salvo, changed gears, and made a run towards her. Before it could connect, Gideon leapt in between them, blade gripped with both hands, poised up in a defensive position. The creature’s sword connected, and Gideon’s sword severed the curved blade in two. A brilliant burst of light accompanied the sheering of steel, and the demon lurched back with an ungodly hiss.

  Gideon pressed his advantage, taking a series of offensive strikes that connected more than they missed. He fought the creature back into the little house and disappeared around the corner of the vestibule. Meg knew she should go back to the car, every part of her sane mind told her to run away, but instead, she ran into the house, following her immortal. She didn’t know the rules, didn’t know the physiology of an immortal, but Gideon was a mess. She dearly hoped immortals couldn’t be killed. But if they couldn’t, why would he have so many weapons?

  She hit her living room and froze in her tracks. Red blood and yellow gore covered her walls. Ash littered her furniture. What was left of it, at least. Her books were out of the built-in shelves and scattered in piles. Everything remotely breakable was in pieces. Even the floorboards fell victim. They were torn down to the joists in several spots. Gideon and the creature fought in her kitchen. She moved fully into the room and saw them as they traded blows. The demon had some kind of dagger now, but it was no match for Gideon’s superior weapon.

  Meg worried a creature like that would fight dirtier, have more tricks. And she worried about Gideon. He was hurt, bad, and showing signs of fatigue. Meg swallowed the panic threatening to consume her and walked into her kitchen. Her kitchen, her house, her immo
rtal soldier. He needed an advantage. He needed help. He needed her.

  She was a mortal, but she wasn’t an idiot. However mythical the creature in her kitchen, it still had the same rise and fall of the thoracic region, demonstrating it still had to breathe. The first thing they taught in emergency responder class was to clear the airway. No airway, everything else was a wash. The exposed nasal passage presented an excellent point of entry. As calmly as she might grab a mug from the bakers rack near the south facing window and pour herself morning coffee, she pulled the fire extinguisher from the wall holder, moved into position, and opened up on the face of the demon.

  The white foam shot out in a single stream and she angled it towards the wide nose holes. It was sucking wind already from the fight and couldn’t stop from inhaling the chemical antidote for fire. The foam was designed to expand on contact and that’s exactly what it did. The demon’s features seized, it grabbed for its throat and lurched back, coughing and choking. It banged into her stove and pushed it through the dry wall. Gideon used the momentary diversion and drove his sword through its exposed flank. As he pulled back his blade, a brilliant white light flared through the kitchen, its epicenter the demon’s rapidly disintegrating body. Then, a second later, everything returned to normal. All that remained was the destruction and a scattering of dark gray ash.

  Gideon lowered his sword and it vanished. He staggered back hard into her refrigerator, braced his hands on his knees and slid to the floor. He looked up at her, a mixture of confusion, and something she couldn’t quite identify in his eyes. Then his visage shifted. His lips formed a hard frown, and his burning coal black eyes pinned her with an incendiary glare. “I told you to…wait…in…the…car.”

  “Save the thanks.” She found herself finally able to breathe now that he was safe. Now that they were safe. “I don’t know much about immortals, but I’m willing to bet you could use a few Band-Aids right now. I’ll be right back with my med kit.”