Demons & Dragons

by Gina Kincade

  "Numerus spiritus elementis."

  "Ex Somno Exsistat Exurens Salamandra Inimicum Involvat Igne! Captus Flammeus!"

  "Coèuntes, sagittent inimicum meam. Sagitta Magicka, Convergentia Series elementis. Vinculum facti inimicum capient. Sagitta Magicka, Aer capturae.”

  The wind picked up as ropes of flames blew in the breeze around the sorcerer. There were several more successive sizzles and a cry from the old sorcerer who fell at the tiny witch’s feet. Whatever she’d gotten herself into, the magick was strong, dark, almost oily feeling, coating the old man’s skin. He wanted to tell Alexx to stop trying to save him as she was looking bad, sweat covering her now pale face, her body contorted into an obscene position, down on the ground, curled over her stomach, arms and legs pulled in tight to her body, but rigid and bent. Yet, she continued to fight what held him. He remembered her telling Aiyanna just last night that each of them would lay down their life for the other.

  Aiden, got up, going to his witch, a sneer of triumph making his eyes squinty; more sinister. Aiyanna was on her side. He’d covered her in a blanket, from head to toe, but Xander could still see her form. Aiden went quickly to the witch, grabbing her arm and pulling her aside as he spoke to her. His voice was drowned out by the others, from both sides of this battle, emerging from where they’d hidden from the sinister light and fire show. The enemies circled each other, a primitive dance like a game of truth or dare, each showing the truth of their strength in their stance while daring the other to take them on.

  The lead asshole, Aiden, along with the witch, uncovered Aiyanna’s face and spoke quickly. But, he was interrupted by the tiny woman’s cry. Everything was. All he could do was hold his breath and watch, as the witch took hold of Aiyanna’s hair with one hand, flicking her wrist toward Aiden with the other. The hawk-man cowered to the side like the witch had hit him with something. Xander knew only too well the force of her power, as he watched Aiden scream and squirm on the ground. He didn’t seem so tough now. Maybe that had been the witch’s intent, something strong and painful. He couldn’t say he felt bad for the guy.

  “Your father was a great man. He once did me a great kindness, one I never thought I’d get the chance to repay,” was all the witch said. Then she turned in the cave, scanning its occupants. Her boss, clenching his stomach, gurgling noises coming from his throat, the fact that he had no air stopping his terror filled cries of anguish. Aiden stood enough to stumble backwards. His eyes first on Selene, then on Aiyanna, he grasped at his throat. As his face turned red then bluish, his body morphed into his hawk. For whatever reason, and who the hell cared at this point, Xander found it harder to watch the large bird suffer.

  With cries like that of a strangled woman, the tiny witch shot white light from her fingertips, zapping and killing the man who’d been giving the orders. The same man he had seen her ritually fucking less than forty-eight hours ago, she was currently burning to a crisp in front of everyone. Then finally the hawk died, its wings stopping their fluttering fight. People started to run again, but with deft precision, the witch shot at many who’d come to this cave to kill him and Aiyanna. One shifter he was sure perished on his way out of the cave in such a hurry. The drop from the cliff no one without wings could survive.

  Those left in the room started to clash again. He assumed this time it was more a fight of preservation, no more alliances, just the will of those few of Aiden’s shifters left hoping to live long enough to flee the cave. Even as fists hit bodies and bites were taken, some of those left in human form, some not, the special ops group herded the outsiders toward the mouth of the cave.

  When the last of that twisted coven was gone, leaving only the CIA standing, the witch’s body crumpled to the ground. In an instant, he was released, running to Aiyanna, taking her in his arms, daring anyone to stop him as he turned to the room.

  “We are all on the same side here now, man,” Brandon spoke as he went to Alexx. “The others are all gone in one way or another thanks to that dead witch. We lost a vampire though, off our side. He got caught in with one of the witch’s bolts of light when she was fighting the sorcerer.”

  “Is he okay?” Xander asked, turning his attention a brief moment to where the sorcerer who had fought for him and Aiyanna still laid.

  The man over him, a shifter himself, called to Alexx for help ensuring the sorcerer was still breathing.

  Xander let out a breath of relief as he looked over Aiyanna, covering her nakedness as he went. Kissing her face, his own tears fell, ones of relief, of connection; their bodies and spirits coming together, meshing like the bolts of the dead witch’s lights, only making the world a more brilliant, more white place, much like the snow covering it.

  “I love you, Aiyanna,” Xander breathed into her ear. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  “Neither do we, man,” Brandon spoke again, standing over Alexx who was already tending to the wounded sorcerer. “If tonight proves nothing else, it proves our team needs you, Xander, you and Aiyanna. We need more people to help us. Together we can be a stronger force against enemies like those we faced tonight. Rogue groups of shifters and fairies and witches and vampires are uniting each day with only mayhem in mind. We are all so glad you have both decided to join us.”

  “How are you here, man?” Xander finally asked, once he was satisfied that Aiyanna was fine. “You’re a vampire! The sun? Why are you not keeping us all warm as you burst into flames?”

  “Something Alexx and I have been working on, a spell that lets me and…” Brandon left off, looking over to a spot on the floor where there was nothing, not even a trace of a vampire having been there. “Sorry… He will be missed. Anyway, the spell lets a vamp be in the sun without frying. For you, brother, we gave it a test run today.”

  “We can’t thank you all enough,” Aiyanna finally spoke. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “You would think it would get easier as much as we see of it, but it doesn’t and that is why we keep fighting as hard as we do, in hopes of granting this world a bit more peace each day.”

  Xander looked at Aiyanna, his gorgeous mate, her dark curls in disarray around her face making her look even more fiercely beautiful. A moment’s panic of what could have been, what could have happened to her took his breath away, and he let it. Together they were stronger. Yet, she had a strength within her all her own, a spirit as fierce and dangerous and determined as her dragon. Still, he would protect her with his last breath, and felt lucky to now have others who would do the same for both of them.

  “You don’t even have to say it, babe. We’re alive. We’re together. And, we’re going where we are needed.” Aiyanna turned to Brandon then. “Do I have time to gather a few things and say goodbye to my people?”

  “Sure.” Brandon nodded as well. “We can meet you at the plane in a few hours. It’s a private government jet. It rules the skies.”

  “Help me get him up,” Alexx said to those around her, nodding her head toward the sorcerer who was thankfully moving again.

  Once the team was gone, he watched as Aiyanna went to the witch’s dead body. No one had disposed of her with their concern over the sorcerer. Letting her go even a few steps away from him was hard at the moment, like ripping off his own arm and giving it away, but he knew she needed to say whatever was on her heart.

  Kneeling by the witch, holding the blanket around her, she looked to Xander instead.

  “She knew my father. I didn’t need anyone to tell me he was a great man, but all these years after his death, it was nice to hear. She finally saved us to pay him back. I mean I knew of her, but there was something else about her that called to me. I just didn’t know what it was. I guess now I can see her younger, see her on the reservation. Such a waste of a life, of gifts.”

  Xander went to her as her tears fell.

  “This is why we have to work with the special ops group. We can’t let this continue to happen.”

  “I know, and we are going. But, we be
tter get a move on if you want to say a proper goodbye to your people.”

  “First, I want to take a proper moment, to say a proper good morning—well, good day now—to my mate.”

  Aiyanna took his face in her hands, pulling his mouth to hers, a crushing kiss letting him know how alive she was. She pushed against his body with her own. Her blanket having fallen away, she moved so she was naked on top of him. Her soft pussy lips gave way to the hardness of his erection. The wetness between her thighs, rubbed over his cock, bathing the ache he felt, massaging his desire with the proof of her hot passion.

  She moved her mouth to his neck, her kisses more bites, making the animals in him growl, want for dominance, but she overpowered them with the fierceness of her own needs, the power in her letting her hands bind his wrists to the ground over his head. Xander gave into it, the holding back igniting a juxtaposition to supremacy, just as powerful a high, within him.

  It was a blessed miracle, too, he found, as she sat up, crawled over him still on her knees, until she had her center, her sex, open in invitation, above his face. A sexy circle of her hips was all he could take, although he wanted to stare at the beauty of her dark, glistening folds forever. Letting his tongue move in between them, taking in the scent of her, the taste of her, both spicy and sweet, both completely woman.

  Above him she writhed as his tongue darted inside her, flicked over her clit, lapped at her folds. Her ecstasy shot through him, building upon his own, the sudden feeling of being able to move mountains if she was near bringing his hands up to her thighs, lifting her above him until he could slide his tongue to rim her ass.

  With his strength at an all time high, he turned her, setting her down in a straddle over his chest and moving her down to his cock. With a lift of her hips now, he settled her over his erection. Her inner walls immediately gripped him tight. Grabbing her ass, which was a beautiful sight facing him, he took her juices, used them to slide a finger easily into her ass. Her body jerked, a turbulent motion, revving his own engines to high-speed. As she shattered around him, he exploded into her.

  They made their own earthquake shake the cave, one that rattled everything in their wake. Still trembling, still feeling aftershocks of their dual orgasms, he lifted her, turned her again, placed her back on the blanket. He fell onto her, wrapped his arms around her full curves, pulled her softness into his hard body, With limbs in a tangle, he rolled them, kissing her, claiming her again.

  “I love you, Aiyanna. Out there, I will die to protect you. Always.”

  “I know. I feel the same way.”

  After gathering a few of Xander’s things, he shifted into the Chimera as he felt her call to her dragon. To his surprise, and from what he could feel, hers, too, she and her dragon became one without peril awaiting her. Together they flew out of the cave toward her reservation and then on to their new life to fight the mystical mayhem that was taking over, dividing, the country they both loved.

  Keep reading for your next book boyfriend....

  Turn the page for a preview from Her True Savior, Book One in the Furever Shifter Mates series.

  Excerpt: Her True Savior

  Will Sylvia 's twist to matchmaking have the expected results?

  Samantha Morgan isn't interested in finding a man for more than a good workout between the sheets.

  Sylvia Ludus, co-owner of the Shifting Hearts Dating Agency, has other plans. While stories about Sylvia's matches are larger than life, Sam thinks she's immune to the woman's gifts in matchmaking, so she agrees to a set up only to appease her mother.

  Sylvia tries something different, setting Sam up with Ian Michaelson, a wealthy black panther shifter, in order to have her meet a friend of Ian's who is as stubborn as she is when it comes to dating. Sylvia claims this other man will be her savior, in a metaphorical sense, the one to capture her heart, make her stop fearing love.

  Will Sam give into whatever has sparked between her and this mystery man, or is she destined to be Sylvia's first failure?

  Chapter One

  T he sound of her mother sifting flour elicited a shallow sigh. Her eyes glazed over, blurring the familiar image of the large mug that served as a flowerpot in the middle of the table where she sat. Her mother's wavering voice, loaded with agitation, cut through her tranquility, tightening her features, interrupting her body's desire for a cat-like stretch. Hell, even the cat that had been resting nearby took off for another room with a few sporadic leaps.

  "Samantha, you are so unpredictable and headstrong," the woman snipped, gripping the handle of the sifter harder, moving it faster despite the screeches of the metal sliding against metal. "A dangerous combination if you ask me."

  "I didn't ask," Sam replied, a coy smile growing on her face as she waited for her mother to look up from her measuring to glare. "But, I love you mom and value your opinion," she continued, tongue in cheek, eyes wide, her new, endless smile making her mother crack one, too, despite her best efforts to stay frustrated with her daughter.

  "Okay, add smart-mouthed and conniving to that list, but I think a man could change all that for you," her mother stated, undeterred, that frantic tone seeping back into her voice making Sam's shoulders rise to her ears. A minute of comic relief over, just like that.

  She sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, counting to four as the air swept into her lungs, then paused, trapping the breath, before releasing the pent up air to a count of six. Well, truth be told, she saw those weird lights in front of her eyes about the count of five during the exhale, but she'd counted to six anyway. A breathing technique she taught her yoga students, she failed to practice on her own when her mother began a tirade about the fact that her only daughter, and only child to compound the issue, had yet to marry.

  "You need someone to share your magic with," her mother continued, not noticing her daughter had yet to respond to the last statement she'd uttered.

  "Mom, I don't need anyone to share my magic with. I have you."

  What I need to share is a good fuck with a man, not my magic, Sam thought, peering into her water bottle as if it, at any minute, would reveal the mysteries of the world to her. A longing crept into her mind, a sudden ravenous wish for water to turn into wine, or better yet, something harder. While she practiced yoga, sometimes only a Long Island Iced Tea could do the trick.

  A witch by birth, Sam thought she had quite the full life with her magic and now yoga, plus her mother and friends. A yoga instructor who owned her own studio, she proved yoga was for everybody as her curves filled out her yoga pants and t-shirt. Her magic, kept private in the family, she practiced daily which granted her a peace like nothing else could, only adding to her yoga practice. She had friends to talk to, cousins and a mother to practice her spells with, and a yoga community who balanced out her life perfectly. Her studio had become just another place of solace for her. Men, on the other hand, they were trouble, needed only to scratch physical urges from time to time when the silicone versions of their anatomy wouldn't do.

  Always the go getter, which some called aggressive and her mother called unpredictable, Sam allowed her magic in the studio, secretly, for herself and others who chose to accept it, as a way to harmony, happiness, and health. Her magic helped to enhance the peacefulness of the place. She'd thrown all she had, money, time, and sweat, into the studio. A strong, single woman and entrepreneur, she didn't desire tying her life to another's. However, her mother's ire wasn't worth the fight. Sam considered it the act of a loving daughter to appease the woman as much as she could from time to time on the whole dating and marriage issue, by at least going on an occasional date. Though, truth be told, and she would not tell such a fundamental axiom to her mother, a family and kids didn't enter into her life plans. Her dating life amounted to dinner and maybe a movie, sometimes a good romp between the sheets.

  So, from time to time when her mother got like this, she listened, tried to keep her center of calm, and eventually relented into a date or two with whoever her mother wanted t
o set her up with. She could agree to a friend of a friend's son, or whomever, for a time. The possible partner her mother found always initiated these lectures, which continued at length until she relented and agreed to a date with the man her mother had currently fallen in love with as 'the perfect match for her unattached daughter.'

  So, today, as always, she waited the woman out, let her rant and complain. She'd tire eventually and go for broke, tell Sam she'd found the man of her dreams for her. In keeping with established protocol, she'd have to get dressed up, sit through the small talk, and then, finally, duty done, end the evening of torture and get on with her life. If the planets aligned in her favor, she'd at a minimum get a good meal out of it, at a maximum, find the guy attractive enough to work a little sexual frustration out of her system.

  As her mother continued, not yet to the 'who I'm hooking you up with' part, Sam mentally wandered through the items in her closet, wondering what she had there to wear for any situation. Not big into clothing like fancy dresses, you could find her in stretchy pants, along with a t-shirt or sweatshirt depending on the season. To her, dressing up mean wearing one of her two pairs of jeans and a sweater, maybe a little make-up.

  She'd rather go hiking than to a fancy restaurant, but the guys her mother chose always tried to impress her mother with some elaborate meal that required a flowing hemline and godforsaken hooker heels. Sam kept two dresses on reserve for such occasions, both of which matched the same pair of misery foot apparel. So, date three had to remain out of the question. Sometimes she did talk them into a more casual second date, but again, a third date still could not happen. At that point emotions could spark, bonds begin to sprout, and none of that mess suited her. She'd married her studio, and that was enough for her magic, her health, and her well-being—body, mind, and soul.