Hakona: Dragon Warrior (Scifi Alien Dragon Romance)

by Jamie Phoenix

  He smiled at her gratefully. “Decided to trust me?” he asked.

  “I think so,” Holly replied. “You don’t seem like a bad guy.”

  “I try very hard not to be one. The world has enough bad people in it, that it doesn’t need me to add to it. I’d rather be good.”

  She was struck by the way he said that, the way he rippled confidence and assurance of himself. It was different from Dante in a big way. Where he was cocky and expected people to bow down around him, Artemis seemed more...self actualized, or something to that effect. He didn’t expect people to bow and scrape because of what he was, rather he seemed to be using what he was to supplement the way he wanted to live his life. It was odd.

  “I’ve never heard of a dragon shifter running a diner,” she said conversationally as they worked together. “I thought they all went for bigger things than that.”

  Artemis shrugged, an unconcerned motion. “Some of them, perhaps. I’ve always tried to live my life outside of what other people do, though. Just because others of my kind are attracted to one kind of life, doesn’t mean I have to be, does it?”

  “No,” Holly said thoughtfully. “I guess not. It’s just. Well, it’s weird.” Her voice was still soft, but this was probably the most she’d spoken in quite some time. Dante had never been interested in anything she’d had to say, especially if it went against the things he was saying, as they often did. It was so much easier to just stay quiet and let him get on with what he wanted to do. Less painful for her that way, too.

  When she looked up, Artemis was watching her carefully, large hands wrapped around the back rung on the chair he was holding. How someone so large and strong could see so peaceful, Holly had yet to figure out. “You’ve had some very negative experiences with shifters,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

  She’d nearly admitted as much earlier that day, after all, and it was probably clear in the way she was acting, too. Those jewel bright eyes probably didn’t miss much, either.

  “Yes,” she replied simply, wondering what he would do with the confirmation.

  All he did was nod and put his chair up and then lift his arms over head to stretch. “What would you like for dinner?”

  Holly blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change of the topic. She’d been expecting another kind torrent of words. Him telling her that she didn’t have to talk about the abusive shifters she knew if she didn’t want to, but that he would listen if she did. But when she looked up, he was looking at her, and she could read all of that in his eyes.

  Interesting.

  “I...I don’t know,” she said. “Anything, really.”

  And Artemis smiled at her. “Come on, then.” He led her to the kitchen, flipping off lights as he went, and she watched as he gathered things in his arms. He passed things to her when he couldn’t carry it all, and she followed him up to the apartment.

  The atmosphere was peaceful as she sat in the kitchen and watched Artemis prepare a pasta dish with cream sauce and vegetables, and when she went to bed that night, she was shocked and how good she felt. How easy this all was.

  Chapter 4: Biding His Time

  Dante Sherman was a simple man. He liked his pleasures in life, and he liked for things to go the way he wanted them to. He didn’t think he was a bad guy, really. Not when he took care of his pack and his girlfriend and made sure that none of them starved or ended up on the street. If people weren’t always letting him down, then he’d be a much more pleasant person than he was allowed to be normally.

  It irked him that Holly had the nerve to call him a liar. That she would stand there and lie to his face like that, and then yell at him of all things.

  Honestly, he should’ve taken care of her right then and there, but the pack was watching, and he didn’t want to cause a scene. Because that would have been disrespectful. If he had to punish his girlfriend, he would do it when the two of them were alone because it was between them.

  Holly was great for a good time. Pretty as a picture and smart to boot. She was pliant and eager to please, and perfect for him. So it probably wasn’t his fault that she bored him to tears most of the time.

  Probably.

  But he had a good thing going. Come home to Holly and get his jollies elsewhere. When she wasn’t being stupid or lazy, Holly was good at keeping the house clean and keeping him happy, but lately she’d been messing up more and more, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with her.

  He sighed as he got out of his car and shut the door with a bang. The pack had gone to drive around and then get some food since Holly had been so stupid as to eat all the bacon, and then they’d ended up at a bar.

  Dante could still smell Miranda’s perfume clinging to him from where she’d been draped over him for most of the night, and he smirked. Holly wouldn’t like that, but since he wasn’t exactly happy with her at the moment, he didn’t really care.

  “Holly!” he called as he let himself in. “Get out here.”

  He’d given her all day to think about what she’d done wrong and how she was going to do better, and now she was going to get her punishment for the way she’d acted.

  There was no sound in the house, and all the lights were off, making him frown. Dante flipped the living room lights on and stood in the middle of the room. “Holly!” he bellowed. “Don’t make me call you again, girl. Get yourself out here!”

  There was still no response, and now he was mad. If she was asleep or ignoring him, she was going to wish she’d been more attentive. He’d see to that.

  Dante stomped his way over to her bedroom door and ripped it open. It was dark in there, but it was obvious that the room was empty. When he stopped and sniffed, Holly’s scent was nowhere to be found in the entire house.

  Rage, hot and strong, boiled in him. She was gone. That little hussy and up and left.

  He swore explosively and punched the door, fist leaving a hole in the flimsy wood. Her scent was long since gone in the house, and it was clear that she’d been gone for some time already, using his absence to cover her escape.

  “Ungrateful cow,” he muttered, seething with anger. “After all I’ve done for her. Put a roof over her head.” It was a good thing he hadn’t had more to drink at that bar, or he would have broken something.

  The thing was, he didn’t care about Holly. He didn’t care about losing the things she provided for his life. He could find a number of other women who wanted to cook and clean and suck his cock when he’d had a bad day. They flocked to him all the time, encouraging him to leave his mousy little human and take up with them.

  The thing was, nobody left him.

  It just wasn’t done.

  Didn’t she know who he was? The name Dante Sherman was synonymous with power in some circles. This city was his by right. What had he done when he’d gotten there and seen that some other wolves had staked the place out for themselves? He’d run them out, that’s what. Sent them to wherever they’d gone with their tails between their collective legs. And now he was the boss. He was the boss, and some stupid little human girl had gone and given him the slip.

  The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. It wasn’t just that she’d left him, but what it represented. In his home, he was the king. She’d disrespected him in his home, in front of his pack, and then she’d left. When word got out about that, no one would let him live it down.

  He snarled as he made his way through the house, going to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator, angry tension in every line of his body. Dante snatched a carton of juice up and drank straight from it, breathing hard when he slammed it down on the counter.

  She’d learn. He’d make sure of that. Whatever fit of pique had led to her changing from his sweet little Holly to this...this girl who ran from him, would be removed, and things would go back to normal.

  Nodding to himself, Dante took his juice and marched back into the living room, flopping into his chair.

  Holly had been so easy to keep at first.
He remembered that much. She’d had that sweet, easy smile that had drawn him in, and had seemed to blossom under his attentions. He’d liked that, too. Liked that she’d always perked up when he’d come into the grocery store she’d been working at when they’d met. Her face had lit up each time, and when he touched her, just casually, brushing her hair back behind her ear, trailing fingers over her arm, he could feel and nearly taste how much she wanted him.

  It was like a yearning in her, and it had led her right to him when he called for her.

  He remembered their first night together, the way she’d been shy but willing, so surprised that he wanted her even after he’d spent so much time visiting her and bringing her things to show he’d been thinking about her.

  He remembered picking her up at her parents’ house where she still lived while she was saving for her own place. The way her father had watched from the doorway as she’d made her way down the drive to get into his car.

  For a moment, Dante and her father had locked eyes, and there was something bitter in the way the older man had looked at him. But he hadn’t cared. Being a shifter, he was used to being looked at like that, and the way Holly looked at him was much better and did wonders for taking his mind off of her father’s disapproval.

  He’d taken her back to his place that night, pressed her right up against the wall when they’d gotten in and kissed her. Dante could still remember the way her mouth had tasted, the way she’d parted her lips for him, a soft gasp in the back of her throat. The same throat that he’d kissed and stroked with gentle fingers moments later when they needed to breathe.

  “Have you done this before?” he’d asked her, eyes heated in the dim light from the single lamp in the front room.

  “Kissed someone?” she’d replied, lips shiny and breath stuttering.

  The looked he’d given her had been enough to prove that he wanted to do much more than kiss her, and Holly had swallowed hard at the sight of it. “Yes,” she whispered, nodding slightly. “A couple of times.”

  It wasn’t as good as her being untouched, all his, but he’d take it. He’d make it so that she didn’t want anyone else again. “You’re mine now,” he’d murmured and then kissed his way back up to her mouth, teeth nipping and fingers going to her hips and digging in.

  He pressed himself as close against her as he could, letting her feel that he was already hard in his jeans, and a blush had stolen over her face, even while her arms were winding their way around his neck and she was holding on to him, kissing back with a shy hesitance that didn’t do anything to take away how much he knew she wanted him.

  Dante had bitten down on her lower lip and then used the ensuing gasp to press his tongue into her mouth, using the appendage to lay claim like his words had earlier.

  She shivered under his hands and moaned into the kiss, tentatively letting her tongue brush his. Dante had coaxed her into more, and soon enough they were kissing with fervor, hands roaming over and under their clothes, touching skin where they could and gripping hard where they couldn’t. Lovely sounds of need and want were spilling from Holly’s lips, and she was rubbing herself against him shamelessly.

  He’d loved that. That his kisses and touches had been enough to bring out that side of her.

  “Were you like this with the others?” he’d whispered as he kissed and nipped at her ear. “Did you moan like this for them?”

  Holly’s breath had stuttered and she’d whimpered softly, shaking her head. “N-no. Only for you.”

  She couldn’t have known, but her words were like an aphrodisiac to him, making him want her even more. He’d groaned and started tugging at her clothes in earnest. “I want you naked. Now.” It was half command, half observation, but the fact remained, and though her cheeks were stained as red as her kiss bruised lips, Holly had nodded and slipped away from him just enough that she could start undressing.

  It had been summer, Dante remembered, and she had been wearing a sundress. Pretty and pastel green, neckline low enough to show off modest cleavage and hemline high enough that he had been able to see her knees and a few inches of thigh, as well. He’d wanted to put his hands all over that soft skin, to leave the imprints of his fingers on her thighs and her hips, so even when she wasn’t with him, she’d be able to see that she belonged to him all the same.

  And he had. He’d watched her take off her dress and then her underwear, blushing brightly the whole time, but revealing her body to him nonetheless. His eyes had raked over her first, taking in the swell of her hips and the soft curves of her breasts, the way her stomach was flat and smooth, leading down to the core of her, where he wanted to be.

  Without undressing himself, he’d yanked her to him, perhaps the first time he’d used more force than necessary to get what he wanted, but Holly hadn’t seemed to mind. She’d just come to him and let him kiss her, whimpering when his hand slid down her stomach to her sex, finding her hot and want and wanting already.

  “Mm, needy little thing, aren’t you?” he’d murmured, a feral smirk on his face.

  Holly just nodded and pressed more against him, panting softly. “Please.”

  Her voice had been edged with her need, and Dante had delighted to hear it. Twining their fingers together, he’d led them to his bedroom.

  Having her spread out on his sheets had been better than he’d expected, honestly. She was pretty, but she’d looked gorgeous against his dark blue bedspread, stretched out and perfect like the rest of his things.

  And she had been perfect for him that night. Opening to him so easily, like she was made for him. He’d warned her that it would be different with a shifter than with a human, and she’d looked at him curiously, so he’d smirked and explained that sex came from somewhere more primal with a shifter. It was almost a true need, like the need to eat or to breathe. That he wouldn’t be able to be gentle with her past a certain point.

  Instead of looking scared, as he’d half expected, Holly had seemed even more turned on, and she’d nodded and spread her legs wide for him.

  It was like winning the frigging lottery, it what it was. Holly had so much of that wide eyed innocence, but she rose to meet his challenges for the first part of their relationship. Pushing back when he pulled at her, nails digging into his back and shoulders, drawing hot, red lines down his skin while he pressed his way into her in one rough motion that drew a cry from her.

  He needed more of that sound, Dante remembered that. He recalled how every time she moaned and cried for him, how every time his name dropped from her lips like a swear tinted with reverence, it had made him harder, more desperate.

  It had been beyond him to be gentle, and where they had started with her on her back, legs wrapped around him while he pushed himself into her body, that had soon not been enough. The animal in him needed more, wanted more control, more depth. And so he’d pulled out and pushed Holly onto her front.

  She’d figured out what he wanted from there, rising up onto her knees, but keeping her face and chest down on the bed. When he caught sight of her face, she’d been blushing hard, but her eyes were glazed with pleasure.

  That had been enough for Dante, and he’d shoved back into her, mounting her body and using a bruising grip on her hips to drag her back into each thrust, the sound of their skin meeting again and again echoing in the room along with her moans and his growls.

  It was a fierce coupling, their first time. He knew that most people tried to do it gentle the first time, but Dante had wanted her to know what she was getting herself into. If she crumbled and couldn’t take it, then he’d know she wasn’t enough for him to be bothering with. He liked to own, but he had standards, of course.

  But she’d flourished beautifully, coming around his cock once and then again as he kept pounding into her body, the velvety tightness and the smell of her arousal and climax pushing him on towards his own completion.

  He came some minutes later, pulling out of her and marking his territory, as it were, and then sprawled out on the b
ed, breathing hard and reaching for her.

  The animal in him was sated, but needed to continue claiming, so he’d pulled Holly to his chest and rained kisses from her face to her neck to her shoulders, murmuring soft words of encouragement to her, how good she’d been, how pleased he was.

  Holly had preened under the praise and let him hold and kiss her, and when he’d slipped his hand down to use his fingers to work a third orgasm out of her, she’d gone nearly boneless against him.

  Dante had buried his nose in her hair and decided right then and there that he wasn’t letting her go without a fight.

  Coming out of his daze in the present, Dante realized with a smirk that his memories had left him hard in his pants. If Holly had been there, he would have called her in to take care of it, but, of course, she had run off.

  Thinking back over how easy it had been to get her to be with him in the first place, Dante wasn’t worried about it anymore. He was confident that he could get her back with very little effort on his part.

  After all, she needed him. No one else could make her feel the way he had, and once anyone saw how much of her belonged to him, they’d send her right back to him. He was sure of that.

  Grinning lazily, he undid his zipper and pulled out his cock, stroking it languidly. He thought of how he was going to take Holly when he got her back. How she’d be repentant for thinking that running away was the answer, and desperate to get back in his good graces. He’d let her dangle for a bit, thinking he was too angry to take her back, just until she realized how much she needed him. How much she wanted him.

  Then he’d make her beg for it. Make her beg to be taken the way only he could take her, face pressed against the wall, hips pushed back, pants around her waist. It would be fast and dirty, but it would remind her of what he did for her.

  Just thinking about it had him hardening even more under his own fingers, and he sped up his stroking, imagining that his hand was that slick tightness between Holly’s legs that always welcomed him in. Imagining the way she would moan and beg for him to do it harder, faster, the way he’d grab her hair and stroke into her body again and again.