Kiss of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 1) - Paranormal Fairytale Romance

by Alisa Woods

  Lucian had to restrain himself from shifting and taking a bite out of the fae. “We’re done here.”

  He turned his back on Zephan and shifted, spreading his wings as he leaped off the perch.

  “Do let me know if there’s a birthing ceremony I need to attend!” Lucian heard Zephan calling behind him. Then, thankfully, the wind was in his ears, and the scent of the dark fae was behind him. He heard a whisper of wings coming alongside, Leksander quickly catching up. Lucian thought briefly about running ahead to the keep. That horrible twitching feeling was back—the one that said he needed to be by Arabella’s side. It was a bad sign.

  Do you think he’s telling the truth? Leksander’s thought floated past the angry and agitated part of Lucian’s mind.

  The fae never tell you a lie, but they sure as hell never tell you the truth, Lucian answered. His brother knew this.

  You speak the truth on that, Leksander thought. But I cannot decide if this is some convoluted, secret plan by the fae to infiltrate the human population with demon halflings as if that were some way to get around the treaty… or if it is simply a human thing.

  What do you mean? Lucian cocked his head to glance at his brother’s dragon form flying next to him. Leksander was a silver dragon, and the glints of morning sun on his scales made him look ethereal, like the angelings he loved so much.

  What if the hatred that has been stirred up in the city recently has unleashed a whole other side of humanity? I love the humans, Lucian, truly I do, but they have their darker moments. Maybe this is a new part of them. A mutation.

  Holy mother of magic… that would put a horrible twist on things. That would be a hell of a loophole for the fae with the treaty, he sent to Leksander.

  Yes. A dangerously large loophole. Leksander swooped and banked towards the portal at the top of the meeting room.

  Lucian growled. Or perhaps they were demons planted by the Winter Court, and they are simply feeding on the hate that has been fomenting in Seattle. That’s Leonidas’s theory.

  Leksander alit on top of the keep. I hope you’re right, my brother. But perhaps I should conference with the angelings to see if they have any insights into this.

  Lucian smirked. Leksander would take any excuse he could to get close to his favorite slayer. Do that. But I also want regular patrols of the city. We’ll take shifts—you, me, and Leonidas. I want to catch one of these demons in the act and do more than destroy it… I want to track down its master.

  Understood. Leksander lifted off again, leaving the keep and heading for the angel realm he loved.

  Lucian shifted on his way down through the portal, conjuring clothes as well. His mind was in a twist. Zephan’s interest in and knowledge of the fact that Arabella was in the keep sent shivers of anger and a small touch of fear through him.

  He didn’t like the fae even knowing about his treasure.

  And a threat from a fae prince—however vague—was something too dangerous to ignore.

  Arabella was arriving in Seattle like she was royalty.

  There was no other way to describe the smooth-as-glass ride, the rich cream leather interior, the sparkling electronics everywhere, from the mounted tablet to the flat screen TV instead of a rear window—even the coffee maker was some kind of high-end electronic gadget she didn’t understand. Lucian Smoke certainly knew how to travel in style. The limousine was decked out with every creature comfort, including heated seats and fresh, crushed ice. And with Lucian’s right-hand-dragon driving, she had Lucian sitting next to her on the bench seat. And he was much closer than he needed to be. Seriously, there were at least a dozen seats in the stretch limo, yet he was sitting right next to her, peering into her eyes, and asking her earnest questions about how to approach his date.

  Although “date” was a pretty loose term. He was going to hook up with a green-eyed girl in a hotel. A girl who was definitely not named Arabella.

  This shouldn’t bother her in the slightest—okay, maybe she was due a small amount of envy of the hot sex the two of them would have—but there was nothing to account for the quiver of nerves in her stomach. Was she worried this girl wouldn’t fall madly in love with Lucian like Arabella needed her to? She honestly had a hard time picturing that happening. The man had the face of a god, the body of an angel—even when not in dragon form—and oozed sex appeal. Plus he was kind and decent, in spite of the weird situation they were in. Or maybe even more so because of it. This woman—Sandra was her name—was getting far more than the hot action she signed up for on the WildLove app. If Arabella had any money to spare beyond paying the rent, she would totally bet on Sandra losing her heart to Lucian’s charms with the first orgasm—that was like money in the bank.

  “Are you sure I shouldn’t take her to coffee first?” Lucian was asking for the third time.

  “If a woman says meet me at this hotel room, and you take her to coffee instead, she’s going to rightly wonder what’s wrong with you.” She swallowed down the dryness in her throat. “You don’t want her to think you’re not hot for her. Not a good way to start.”

  His gaze dropped to examine her hands, which lay in her lap, the knuckles of one pounding the flat palm of the other—it was her nervous tic, the one she subconsciously deployed whenever she was agitated.

  Lucian gently laid a hand on top of hers. “Are you all right?”

  She forced her hands to lie still. “I’m fine.” Only she wasn’t. She needed to hit the gym and kick the shit out of something for a while. Or find a partner for some judo and expend energy that way. That was her go-to relief when the endless stretches of sexual tension had built up and needed more release than her vibrator could give. And she’d built up a lifetime’s worth of sexual tension over the last three days in the presence of Lucian Smoke. Every time he was near, he kept giving her these intense looks and small touches, and dammit, that manly smell of his… it was like she was constantly floating in a sea of testosterone, and her body was in a perpetual state of heat. Agitation. Need. For God’s sake—the man was undeniably hot, but this unrelenting sexual tension was driving her insane. She could hardly think straight.

  “Are you worried about returning to the city?” he asked, the concern deep on his face.

  “No.”

  Lucian was convinced that Seattle wasn’t safe, going on round after round of patrols for demons like the one who attacked her. She’d tried to explain the guy was just a client’s maniac boyfriend, but Lucian was having none of it. So, when he finally settled on a WildLove hookup—after she pestered him for days to accept someone; for some reason, he kept stalling—she’d talked him into letting her return to her office as well, just for a few hours. She’d get some work done while he was off screwing his potential future mate in a hotel. And that really shouldn’t bother her. Because dammit, it was her idea. But it did. “I really do have a life, you know.” Shit. Even she could hear the defensiveness in that.

  His eyes blazed a little. “A lover?”

  Damn him. “Like that’s any of your business.”

  He leaned forward a little. “I need to know everything about you, Arabella. To know if I can trust you with our secret.”

  “Still none of your business.” Her agitation was making her legs jumpy. And her body flushed again with his nearness, betraying her. God, she needed to work—something, anything, to distract from his insane hotness. But her thoughts strayed like the little traitors they were to the fancy downtown hotel that Lucian would soon be sharing with this woman he didn’t know. When an image of Lucian laying her—Arabella—back on an enormous high-class white-pillow-covered bed invaded her mind, she forcefully closed her eyes to ward it off. And went back to pounding her hand into her fist. And biting her lip—hard.

  Those thoughts were not welcome. Lucian would be banging someone today, and it would not be her. Not today or the next day. Or the day after that. This was a simple fact. And this rendezvous with Sandra needed to happen. So Arabella could get back her freedom and get on with h
er life.

  She felt the heat of his hand a moment before it landed on her cheek. Her eyes jerked open, but she didn’t pull away. His touch was gentle… and red hot. It was just the backs of his fingers lightly brushing her cheek as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, but it trailed a hot line across her skin.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. He pulled his hand back.

  She steeled herself from following after it.

  “Your lovers are your business,” he said, but his gaze was intense again. “I shouldn’t pry. I’m just worried that…” He stopped, frowning and dropping his gaze again.

  “Worried about what?” She couldn’t help being drawn in by him. What was wrong with her?

  He looked up again, held her gaze for a moment, then rolled up the cuff of his starched white dress shirt. She’d seen him naked before—for a split second that replayed in her mind again and again—and she’d noticed a lot of tattoos. A couple on his chest, his shoulder, and up and down his arms. Even a few that edged up on his neck. But she hadn’t had a good look at any of them. Now he was baring his sexy, muscular forearm and holding it out for her inspection.

  They looked like some kind of ancient writing. “What do they mean?” She couldn’t help reaching out to touch one set of symbols with her fingertip. His skin was hot, almost like he had a fever, and the tattoos twitched under her touch. She jerked her hand back and looked up at him. “They’re magic, aren’t they?”

  He let out a low breath, and his eyes were slightly hooded. Like her touch on the tattoo had done something to him. Her face heated at that thought, and she couldn’t decide if that was bad or good.

  She held her breath, waiting.

  He pulled in some air and seemed to recover. “They’re very… sensitive.”

  Oh, Jesus. She swallowed.

  “They’re called runes, and they’re part of my fae ancestry.” His voice was less breathy and more normal again. “My great-grandmother ten generations ago was the Fae Queen of the Summer Court. She mated with a dragon, and every generation in the House of Smoke from then on has had some variation of fae magic in their blood. And that magic lets me sense things… taste them.” The smooth, honeyed tone of his voice made that sound insanely erotic.

  The quivers in her stomach stepped up to a full jitter riot. “What kinds of things?”

  “A wide range.” Then he dropped his voice and nailed her with that hot pale-amber stare. “Among other things, I can taste a person’s experiences. A sense of who they are. Their history.” He arched an eyebrow, just slightly. “Especially their sexual experiences, both good and bad.”

  Oh shit. “Well, that’s not weird at all.” What did he know about her? The idea that he had tasted her in some magical sense was sending shivers up and down her body. Even worse, not all of them were bad.

  He smiled a little, but it was pained. “You have a dark history with men.”

  Every muscle in her body stiffened. “Yeah, so? A lot of women do. You should see the stories that come through my office. Men are assholes.”

  He nodded. “I tasted that from the first moment I met you.”

  “In the alley?” But some of the tension drained to her feet. He wasn’t… judging her.

  “Yes. And I have to admit, it was more than a little arousing to see you give back to that demon what he deserved.” The smile on his face was going to kill her. Just absolutely kill her. And arousing? Why did he have to say things like that?

  Her lady parts were aflame. “Maybe you should have Sandra beat up some guy before you take her to bed.”

  His eyes widened a little… then he laughed. A short, clear laugh, but it shook the tattoos on his arm. Or maybe they just moved around on their own, fading and then rising from below his skin. He dipped his head and peered at her, humor and intensity mixed in his eyes. “She might think that a little odd.”

  “Just a little.” God, was it hot in here? She needed air. Her gaze darted away from him and his sexy, humor-filled face, searching out the window.

  They were close to her office.

  Thank God.

  She was in desperate need of distraction, and her clients were just the ticket. Besides, they were getting restless. One was trying to get a restraining order in place. Another was stuck between halfway houses and needed a referral. A third simply needed to talk again—Arabella didn’t know if her client planned to finally file that divorce decree to get away from her abusive husband, but if she did, Arabella needed to be there to hook her up with all the right services to get her through to the other side in one piece. Safe. Her clients truly needed her—and she needed a distraction from her dilemma with this ridiculously hot dragon shifter in search of a mate.

  “Looks like we’re here!” she said brightly, easing away from Lucian on the bench seat as the limo pulled up to the curb. “But hey, you better not linger with this car in this neighborhood. Especially at night. You’ll get jacked in no time.”

  “I doubt that very much.” The smooth confidence in his voice made her wonder if he would go all dragon-crazy on someone if they tried to take his fancy car.

  Before she could ask, their dragon driver—Lucian had introduced him as Cinaed—had opened the door for her. She scrambled out and reflexively glanced around. Her office was, of necessity, in a pretty downtrodden part of Seattle. She couldn’t afford the rent in the nicer business districts, and she knew better than to set up shop where the downtown shifter gangs had staked out their territory, so that left the small strip where the junkies hid out in the alleys, and the businesses had mostly fled. Rent was cheap. She had iron bars on the windows and a roll down lock-up on the door, plus a broken security camera perched above it, just to frighten away the ones who had some sense. It wasn’t much to look at, but the low rent kept her in business—her clients didn’t have much either.

  Cinaed looked like he was on high-alert as he held the door for Lucian. “I don’t care for the looks of this, my liege,” he said quietly.

  My liege? It spun her head how these dragon shifters talked.

  Lucian pulled in a breath. “No demons, at least none that I can scent at the moment.” He looked Cinaed full in the face. “You’re not to leave her side, even for an instant.”

  “Understood.” Cinaed closed the door of the limo. He was dressed in business clothes—a starched white shirt, skinny black tie, and tailored pants—but his hair was long, falling past his shoulders, and the scruff on his face was halfway between five o’clock shadow and sexy beard-in-the-making. And with that vaguely-Irish accent and deep green eyes, he looked more like a rakish Highlander than a Seattle dot-com-er. Were all dragon shifters drop-dead gorgeous? Lucian’s brother, Leonidas, was the same way—intensely masculine and sexual—but he’d just pestered her for questions about her background, where she came from and what she did for work. Her body didn’t react to either of them the way it lost its senses whenever Lucian was around.

  “Are you seriously going to leave the car here unattended?” she asked Lucian and Cinaed, who were both eyeing the peeling paint and chipped cinderblock of her office entrance. Truthfully, the harsh light of the streetlamp hid most of the flaws—it looked worse during the day. It used to be a shoe-shine place, a million years ago when this part of Seattle wasn’t a vacant lot with more junkies and boarded-up businesses per square foot than any other part of the city.

  “It’ll be fine.” Cinead stalked toward her office, going ahead of her like he was making sure it was safe. He took a position by the door, still glancing down the sidewalk as if someone might leap out of the alley and attack them. Although it hadn’t been far from here that she had been attacked and dragged into an alley, so she supposed his concern was warranted.

  Lucian waved his hand at the limo and whispered something under his breath.

  The car disappeared.

  Arabella stared hard at the spot, but there was absolutely nothing there. “That’s… a really good trick.” She glanced around the street, but there
was no one to notice that Lucian had just pulled a Houdini with his stretch limo.

  He took her by the elbow, his hand hot on her skin, and urged her toward the door. “I’m more concerned about you being on the street. Shall we go inside?”

  “Don’t you have a date to get to?” she asked, but she strode toward the door. She knocked because along with losing her phone the night of the attack, she’d also dropped her bag with her keys, wallet, and the few items she carried when she went to work. All of that must have ID’d her at the scene when the police had arrived. “You don’t want to be late,” she said, although Lucian didn’t seem in any hurry.

  “Once I know you’re secure, I’ll leave Cinaed to watch over you.” He stopped his scanning of the street to settle his gaze more softly on her. “I won’t be gone too long.”

  “Don’t tell her that,” Arabella said, wrinkling up her forehead.

  That brought a smile to his face just as the door opened. She had called ahead so Rachel would meet them there and open up the place.

  “Hey, girl!” Rachel stepped back from the door to let her in. “Did you kick that virus’s—” She stopped to gape at Cinaed leading the way into the office, scanning the cramped front room with its ratty couch and battered metal receptionist desk. The door that led to Arabella’s office was slightly ajar, showing the desk with their sole computer, another ancient sofa, and a scuffed wooden chair that served as her counseling room for meeting with clients.

  Cinaed was scowling, but he quickly checked out the place, looking for lurking demons probably. Lucian’s face was likewise showing his contempt for her humble office as he closed the front door behind him. Sure, it wasn’t a luxurious dragon castle in the sky, but come on… she did mostly pro-bono work for the abused. What did he expect?

  Rachel’s mouth was hanging open. “Holy hell,” she breathed. Then she dropped her voice. “I thought you were fighting the flu, not winning the man lottery.” It was spoken in a whisper-hiss to Arabella, but it wasn’t like the place was big enough that the men wouldn’t also hear.