20 Shades of Shifters_A Paranormal Romance Collection

by Demelza Carlton

  “I’m going to get Serqet so she can help you. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

  “Now that I’ve stopped thinking and am lying down, I don’t think I’d get far, even if I tried.”

  “Good. I’ll be right back.”

  When Osiris reached the top of the stairs, Serqet was already ascending them, a white first-aid kit under an arm.

  “I think she needs stitches.”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  The female may have been a thunder dragon, capable of deafening an opponent with a whisper of sonic magic, but her human voice reminded him of the sweetest of lullabies. A nightingale in a party dress.

  They walked to the bedroom. Not only had Isis not moved, but the poor dragon had also fallen asleep. On the pillow and surrounding her head were the three fairies. Osiris had no idea where they’d come from. He was almost certain they weren’t in the room when he’d left.

  “Should I move them out of the way so you can deal with Isis?”

  “No, I think they want to help. How much do you know about Yumboe fairies?”

  “Nothing. I think.”

  “Citrussong, Olivebloom, and Rainblossom.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Their names. I heard Isis use the names earlier, although I have no idea which name goes with which Yumboe or even how she understands a thing they say.”

  “How much do you remember about home?”

  “A lot. But I was only twelve when we fled.”

  Which meant she knew no more about the creatures of their realm than him or the twins. They would be in unchartered territory.

  “I know Isis is your mate, but I have to remove her clothes so I can clean, close, and dress her wound. Then I’ll have to get Nephthys to help me bathe Isis without getting her bandages wet.”

  “You think I can’t help you with that?”

  “I know you can help. But she wouldn’t want you to see her.”

  “Not to be disrespectful, but we had sex yesterday. I’ve already seen Isis.”

  “Naked?”

  “Well, not all of her.”

  “That’s what I thought. As I said, she wouldn’t want you to see her.”

  Another secret. His gaze dropped to Isis, who hadn’t moved but the fairies had. They knelt beside her, their little hands in hers, heads downcast and voices a whisper of sound. He had no idea what they were doing, but he didn’t think they intended Isis harm.

  Nephthys knocked on the open door before entering.

  He snorted. The women were unbelievable.

  “You’re all schemers.”

  Nephthys kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, we are. When you moved in here, we put you through the gauntlet.” She kissed his other cheek, as lovely as her twin but not identical, at least not to him. Osiris had always been able to tell them apart. “If you survived that, then you’ll survive this. Now get out so I can help Serqet take care of my sister.”

  He didn’t like it, but Osiris let the women kick him out of the room.

  When the dragons finished with Isis and left the bedroom, taking the fairies with them, Osiris got the answer to one of his questions. A sleeping Isis Philae felt wonderful tucked against him.

  Chapter 9

  Isis was trapped. Under different circumstances, she wouldn’t view being wrapped in Osiris’s arms and pressed against his hard and, if she weren’t mistaken, naked body, as a hardship to be endured instead of a pleasure to be enjoyed.

  “You’re crushing me.”

  Arms tightened around her waist and lips lowered to kiss the top of her head. “I’m not. You’re exaggerating so I’ll let you run away to the chaise lounge you slept on last night.” Another kiss, somewhere near her forehead. “I won’t continue to let you push me away.”

  “I’m trying to breathe, and I’ll ignore your use of the word let.”

  One of Osiris’s big hands came up to stroke from neck to bare shoulder. “Serqet and Nephthys took care of you, while I waited in the hall.”

  “You mean they threw you out and you stalked the hallway until they were finished and let you back in.”

  “Something like that. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

  She’d figured as much. The curtains were still open, the outside as black as onyx. Her eyes adjusted to the dimmed light, as she blinked away sleepiness and the awkwardness that came with waking in Osiris’s arms.

  “Tell me about the Tyets.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Isis relaxed. She may be stubborn, as Osiris had accused, but they shared the trait. Their mutual stubbornness had led to ear-splitting fights and breath-stealing make-up sex. She didn’t want to argue with the rock dragon. Her head on his brawny chest felt too good for her to continue to pretend otherwise.

  Lulled into compliance by his strength and warmth, she closed her eyes.

  “I know the dragons are your friends, but they’re more than that to you. What does Tyet mean?”

  “It means the Blood of Isis.” She opened her eyes and leaned up on an elbow to look down at him as she explained. “The Tyets are the Knot of Isis. My sacred dragon warriors. On their blood of honor, they’ve sworn themselves to me. On my blood as queen and protector of dragons, I’m life and magic. Aset is my shadow dragon. Merit, yellow energy. Hathor, gray mist, and Serqet is thunder. They are an Isis Knot of sisterhood, family, and protection.”

  “Everyone thinks you and Nephthys aren’t typical dragons because you’re the first sun dragon and moon dragon.” A hand came up to twine in her braids. “That’s not all there is to it. You said Nephthys found my dead body as if she hunted for my corpse. You resurrected me. My heart doesn’t beat but I’m alive in every other way. Have we had this conversation before?”

  “Except for the death and resurrection part, yes.”

  “Did I say then that dragons are blind fools to not have seen the truth, myself included?”

  “You did.”

  “You and Nephthys are the Scepters of Nebty.”

  Isis sank back down, her head returning to Osiris’s chest. “We are, which is why we’re only identical twins in human form but not as dragons. We aren’t Wadjet and Nekhbet. But we have echoes of the power they left behind for Geb and Nut to use to protect both realms. I have Wadjet’s rearing cobras.”

  Isis recalled how she’d used the slithering creatures as weapons in a way she’d never known she could. In her sun dragon form, the goddess’s power would manifest even greater.

  “Nep has Nekhbet’s white vultures. Today, near the cloud cover that separated the entry point between the two realms, our skin glowed with the symbols of our goddess. I don’t know why we’re the scepters or how we came to possess their powers.”

  “What does your mother have to say?”

  “Nothing. She tells us practically everything, but Mother has always been vague on the subject. Nep and I never pushed. Until recently, there was no need.”

  “You will now?”

  A part of her feared the answer, dreaded, even more, how the truth could impact her relationship with Nut.

  “I may have no choice.”

  “Let me make love to you.”

  “What?”

  Osiris laughed, his chest a masculine rumble under her cheek. “I never knew CEO Philae could sound equal parts surprised and scared.”

  “Your question was a non-sequitur. We weren’t talking about sex.”

  He laughed again. “I’m naked and hard. You’re soft and smell of lavender soap. That’s a perfect recipe for thinking about sex. Are you telling me the thought haven’t crossed your mind since you woke up to find me next to you?”

  When she didn’t reply, Osiris laughed for the third time.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. We should have sex. Neither of us finished yesterday, which is a shame.”

  “You don’t remember anything.”

  “I remember how to have sex.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

&n
bsp; Osiris shifted onto his side, bringing them face-to-face. His left hand went to her hip, overtop of the thin nightgown she wore.

  “I feel a lot of things. Sometimes, when I think of you, it seems as if my head will explode. Like I’m so close to having a breakthrough and getting my memories back. But there’s only pain, emptiness, and longing.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You keep saying that as if it’s your fault. I get that you’re the Scepter of Wadjet and you think, because of that, I was attacked and killed.”

  “That’s most likely the reason.”

  “So what. Did I know you were the Scepter of Wadjet before we mated ourselves to each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what I thought, and I joined myself to you anyway. That was my choice. I can tell you, without knowing our shared romantic past that, even if I had known of the danger, I would’ve still chosen you.”

  “You couldn’t possibly know that for certain.”

  “I do know because I know me. If I loved you enough to want to have you as my mate and wife, I wouldn’t have given a damn about the potential danger.”

  Isis flopped onto her back, unable to continue lying to herself or Osiris. In every way except for his memories and beat-less heart, this was her mate. But the thought of losing him again hurt too much for her to allow Osiris to get too close.

  The mattress dipped, when he scooted closer. “Help me to remember.”

  “By having sex with you?”

  “Don’t make it sound as if us having sex is the low-point of your day. You jumped me yesterday, remember?”

  “A gentleman wouldn’t have brought that up.”

  “I’m thinking, since you married me, you prefer your gentlemen with rough edges and sharp dragon claws.”

  Oh, but Isis did. When they’d dated, Osiris had found out how much a serrated-edge dragon smoothed out by intelligence and tenderness appealed to the woman and the sun dragon.

  Leaning up, Isis captured his lips, not giving herself time to reconsider. Mmm, he tasted sublime. Sex between them had never been an issue. Osiris enjoyed sex, and so did Isis, one of many ways they were compatible.

  Her mouth opened for his tongue, and he slipped inside. Hands went to her waist and pulled her to him. Isis thought pain would douse the heat of their kiss, but she felt nothing but Osiris’s greedy, exploring hands.

  The part of her brain that overthought everything wanted to stop and ask Osiris what had happened to her injuries. Osiris’s mouth on her neck and hand on her ass, however, vetoed her inquiring mind.

  “I know how to touch you and what you like. I did yesterday, too.”

  Open, wet mouth found her nipple and sucked. He didn’t shove up her nightgown or pull down its straps. Instead, Osiris claimed a breast through the satin material and devoured as much of her as he could fit into his mouth.

  Hand maneuvered between their bodies, found the center of her damp panties and stroked over material. She wondered at that, but his mouth and hand wouldn’t allow her to dwell too long. Even through her clothes, he worked her up and pushed Isis toward a quick, needy orgasm.

  Legs lifted and opened to better feel his hand and to encourage a deeper exploration. As he’d said, Osiris knew what she liked and how to please her. Rising to his knees, Osiris drew off her panties but didn’t lift her nightgown.

  Before she could question him, he dropped onto his stomach and between her thighs. No preamble required, he dove in, all tongue. Hands on thighs kept her wide open for him.

  Her hand moved to his head and nails scratched scalp. Isis knew what he liked as well. Tactile praise.

  Hips rose to meet mouth.

  Heels dug into mattress.

  Moans penetrated the quiet room and Osiris’s fingers her soaked sex.

  Isis came, her cries of release accompanied by tears. She couldn’t lose Osiris again. Goddesses help her, she couldn’t.

  Turning her head to the side, she looked up to see a kneeling Osiris next to her head, naked and gloriously erect. She swallowed at the sight of him, eyes blown and expectant, penis leaking pre-cum.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d swear Osiris had selective memory loss because, most of the time, when he finished pleasuring her orally, he would position himself so she could return the favor before they had intercourse.

  Isis was too cautious to view his actions as memories. At most, it was muscle memory, if such procedural memory applied in this context.

  Wrapping fingers around his length, Isis stroked him a few times before taking Osiris into her mouth. He groaned, and she took him deeper, sucking him from root to bulbous head.

  “Like that. That’s good.”

  Down and up. Down and up. Two hands, down and up. Mouth on the head and sucking. Tongue flat, licking underside of balls then back up to the tip and sucking.

  “Shit.”

  Isis eased off him. As much as he enjoyed coming in her mouth, Osiris preferred vaginal sex to oral when he peaked.

  “Come here.” Isis opened her arms, and he came, settling between her legs.

  “I’m heavy.”

  “I know. But not too heavy. Besides, I like the feel of your body overtop of mine. Why haven’t you tried to remove my nightgown?”

  “Would you have let me?”

  “No.”

  Shifting them to the side, Osiris adjusted them so that she cradled him between her thighs and they faced each other. They moaned their mutual pleasure when he entered Isis, a slow, deep penetration that ended their conversation.

  This intimacy was different from last night’s desperate joining for her and confused, lusty sex for him. Tonight, they understood the stakes and what they still had left to lose if the coming war with the Demon Kingdom didn’t end in their victory. Even if they won, Osiris might still succumb to death, which cast his memory loss in a less awful light.

  He kissed her, hard and with lots of tongue.

  “You’re thinking when you should be fucking me. I don’t like the competition.”

  “No one and nothing compares to you.”

  “Sweet talker.”

  A stinging slap to her ass had Isis returning thrust for thrust. Her hips slammed into his with a sweaty, delicious force that had their mouths crushing together as they chased their pleasure.

  “Yes, Osiris, yes.”

  Osiris pounded into her, Isis’s shouts loud enough to be heard outside their bedroom. If not hers, then surely Osiris’s whose dragon’s growl shouldn’t have been able to come from his human throat.

  Yet it had, and the sound reverberated off the walls as he spent himself inside of her.

  Sweaty and slick, he rolled them over, half of his body still on Isis.

  She pinched his side. Osiris didn’t move, but he did yawn, face pressed to the sex-scented sheets.

  “You’re heavy.”

  “I thought you said you liked my weight on you.”

  “I do. Before sex and when I’m anxious to have you inside me. Afterward, you feel like a lazy, wet sea lion.”

  One eye opened and glared at her. “I see post-coital conversation isn’t one of your strengths. You need to work on your pillow talk.”

  The one open eye slammed shut. Osiris clutched at his head and began to shake.

  Shocked out of her sated lassitude, Isis went into action. Scrambling to her hands and knees, she shoved a groaning Osiris onto his back. Unlike his happy and sated face, of a few seconds ago, Osiris grimaced in pain. With a hard palm, he struck himself upside his head.

  First the rough punches to his chest and now relentless strikes to his skull. She had to stop him before he caused more damage.

  Isis straddled Osiris’s waist and grabbed his face. He still slapped at his head. Eyes were closed, and mouth emitted a low wail of discomfort.

  “I’m here, love. I got you.”

  She didn’t have him, and Isis didn’t think Osiris could hear her overtop of the pain.

  Isis lowered her mouth to
his contorted lips and kissed him. She didn’t stop kissing him until Osiris settled down and kissed her back. Even after he stopped hurting himself, she stayed on top of him. Her head rested under his chin and her hand on his chest and over the heart that refused to beat.

  She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, Isis soothing Osiris with her body and love and he a quiet mass of emotions.

  “In the decade you’ve been mated to Isis, she must’ve mentioned the scepters at least once. In bed, a post-coital conversation after she came on your face.”

  Isis raised her head, surprised, after so long, to hear him speak. “What did you say?”

  “It’s not what I said. It’s what was said to me. By my killer, I think.”

  He hated this. The skull-splitting pain. The sense of powerlessness. The guilt-anger battle that waged in Isis’s eyes.

  Osiris yanked on the boxers he’d shed when he felt Isis begin to awaken.

  “I’m fine.”

  Osiris accepted the bottle of water Isis handed him. After his outburst, she’d gone to the kitchen, claiming he would feel better if he had a drink of cold water. Ignoring the fact that she could’ve used the cup and sink in the bathroom to get him water, she fled the bedroom in a guilty rush of unshed tears.

  She’d come right back, her eyes dry but red.

  “You’re not fine.”

  “You’re right, I’m not.”

  Twisting off the cap, Osiris downed half the bottle of water in one long gulp. A second lift to his lips had him finishing the rest. Isis may have used going to the kitchen as an excuse to gather her thoughts and emotions, but Osiris did need the hydration after the splitting headache.

  He dropped to the foot of the bed.

  Isis didn’t sit. Instead, she leaned her back against the closed bedroom door and watched him.

  “I think you should see a psychiatrist.”

  “For what?” Osiris threw the empty plastic bottle across the room. He missed the trash can by a mile. “What do you think a psychiatrist will tell me that I don’t already know?”