Falling Dragons (#3 Moon Shadows)

by Angela Castle

  I’m working on it, girl.

  “Have I lost you there, sweetheart?”

  She blinked up at Simon. “You seemed lost in your head and your eyes gleamed like they did just before you changed before. You’re not going to turn into a dragon now, are you? It would make what I want to do to you rather difficult.” He grinned wickedly.

  “No, no, we talk sometimes. My dragon likes this, likes you.”

  “I noticed. At least it’ll keep me from being eaten for a while; the eating should be left up to me.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully, before suddenly tossing her into the air.

  Her surprised shriek cut off abruptly with a soft thump, landing on a soft mattress. She hadn’t even noticed they’d entered a bedroom. As she glanced around, she took in the old stone walls rigged with modern lighting, resembling something from the medieval era. Even the bed was a huge four-poster, ornately carved with a red draped canopy.

  All that was forgotten as she watched the show of Simon stripping off his shirt, his muscles rippling as he bent to remove his shit kicker boots.

  Opie licked her lips. Wow, her mate is indeed a fine specimen of a man. “C’mere, Simon, I want to touch, taste and explore you.”

  Her throaty command made his lips twitch up into a half smile. “Remember who’s in charge here, sweetheart.”

  Yeah, we’ll see about that.

  She licked her lips, slower, more deliberately. Slowly, she sat up to peel off her own shirt, leaving her in one of the push up bras she liked to wear. “Please come here and let me touch you?”

  “Since you asked so nicely.” Leaving his leathers on, he crawled up over her body, forcing her back on the bed to meet his gaze head on.

  Her mind blanked by the lust swarming in her head, her dragon urging her forward, purring in heat. Opie glanced up at him and grabbed his hands, still braced on either side of her torso holding him steady over her body. She ran her palms up his hard forearms, delighting in the contrast between his steel muscles and the soft speckling of hair on his chest. Further up her hands went, caressing his biceps, squeezing his shoulders, her fingers running lightly along his neck. She slid a hand up further still, feeling the smooth sculpting of his jaw, the soft contours of his mouth and the sharp point of a cheekbone. Her mate was, for lack of a better word, beautiful. All hers, if she ever found the courage to tell him the truth.

  “Why dye your hair? I know it’s not your natural colour.”

  He shrugged his large shoulders, his head dipping to nibble along the column of her throat. “Modern times, modern look. I change sometimes to help forget the past and move forward.” His lips moved against her neck.

  She let her fingers slide into his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling his head up, moving his lips towards hers. The kiss was hungry, desperate, full of all the passion she held for her only true mate.

  One hand suddenly grasped the back of her head, pulling her closer. His tongue pushed past her lips and into her mouth, tasting her like a man dying from thirst. Overwhelming need crawled under every inch of her skin. Her pussy throbbed, already soaked with pure want, to have him inside her again. She moaned and arched up. She felt the hardness of his cock through his pants rub against her stomach. He pulled away just long enough to tug down the skirt and toss it away before shucking his own pants.

  Opie moved to unhook her bra. “No.” Simon seized her wrist. He bent down and took the flimsy fabric between his teeth, tearing it from her, making her breasts bounce free. She didn’t care one iota. He’d ruined her bra, plenty more where that came from. Her nipples, already tight, hardened further now they were exposed to the cooler air of the room. Simon moved over them, his tongue flicking out before swirling around one sensitive nub.

  She cried out.

  Releasing her hand and head, he traced the pattern of her dragon while drawing her breast into his mouth, suckling as a babe on his mother. His head lifted, her plump breast falling with a soft plop from his mouth. “How come you taste like the mead of the gods? I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

  She could have told him right there and then it was because they were destined mates, brought together by the gods. They were the other half of each other’s souls. Fear lurched through her; fear he would stop and flat out reject the notion. It was better this way. At least he was touching her, making love to her.

  With soft kisses, he worked down her body until his face was directly in front of her mound. “Now this I’ve been dying to taste.”

  Opie quivered. She’d never let anyone do this to her before. Not even her rat bastard of a very ex-boyfriend. The idea simply never appealed, but he seemed so eager, grabbing the backs of her thighs and burying his face up against her, that she didn’t feel even a little bit hesitant.

  The first lap of his tongue against her tender flesh made her moan, loud and shaky. He hummed into her pussy as he lapped up her juices. His tongue slipped past her entrance and slid along her clit. She’d never imagined that anything could feel like this, utterly sinful, ecstasy shaking her very bones. Her dragon delighted in his attention, telling Opie again and again how perfect a mate he was.

  Heat curled low in her belly, and a little thrill went through her. Oh yes, the heat crawled up her spine filling every inch of her body until she was numb, except where his tongue caressed her. She closed her eyes tight as pleasure crashed over her like a tsunami. Her inner muscles clenched until the tension in her body suddenly exploded and she screamed. Long spurts of wetness gushed, coating Simon’s face.

  She sagged against the soft mattress, breathing hard as her mate loomed back over her. He licked the juices from his face with a lusty, satisfied gleam in his eyes.

  “Something tells me you’ve not done that before.” Weakly she shook her head. “Makes me think about what else you haven’t done yet.” Bringing his face closer to her, she could smell herself on him. The eroticism of her scent on his face flared her need back to life. “I guess we can explore other things later.”

  Yes, oh yes we have the rest of our lives to explore. She barely refrained from blurting out her thought. His hand drifted down her little rounded stomach. His fingers came to rest between her moist pussy lips, dipping inside. She bucked her hips up towards him.

  “Yes, Simon, please, I need you inside me.”

  His grin was one of pure wickedness as he lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking them. She squirmed under him. “I like this, you, so soft under me. I’ll never get enough of your taste. I didn’t know dragon women were so sweet.”

  With that, she felt the head of his cock pressing bluntly against her. She spread her legs wide and he hesitated for a moment before shoving inside her with one long, deep thrust. Her eyes opened, wanting to see the moment of their joining, wanting to see if he felt it as much as she did—their connection. The utter bliss on his face melted her heart. She wrapped her legs around him, bucking her hips trying to make him move. His eyes opened and she met his beautiful, evening sky blue eyes. Opie knew she was falling hard and fast, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, this is going to be fast. I promise slow and gentle next time.”

  “Shut up, Simon, and fuck me. I’m a dragon, I like hard and rough.” Her growl came out more dragonish than human.

  She loved his grin. Her own turned into a moan as he shifted his hips and started thrusting. “Never say...” he panted, “...I didn’t give you...” She threw back her head from the incredulous friction burning deep inside her. “...what you wanted.”

  He fucked her like all hell had broken loose. Every thrust was hard and unforgiving, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. Gods, she loved this, loved when he lost control. The feeling was incredible; she never wanted it to end. He jarred against something deep inside of her that sent shocks of intense pleasure through her whole body. She groaned, head twisting from side to side, her hips jerking up to meet every brutal thrust. Her second orgasm hit her unexpectedly, punching the air from he
r lungs. She let out a dragon howl, echoing throughout the bedchamber.

  Just as she floated back down from the heavens, Simon groaned and stuttered to a stop inside her, thrusting once more, twice, before his cock twitched and swelled, releasing inside her. Both breathing heavily, he collapsed forward. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, cradling her body against his.

  “Please tell me you can’t get pregnant? Not that I have ever fathered a child as an immortal,” he mumbled against her neck.

  Pain sliced through her chest. She swallowed before answering, “No, not unless we were mated, or you were a dragon too.”

  He lifted his head, gripped her and rolled them, making her groan as his cock slipped from her sheath, making her feel empty. He cradled her against his chest, stroking his hand down her damp, sweaty skin. “Good thing we’re not mated then.”

  Her dragon roared in protest, demanding she mate with him, making Opie wince. She hid it by burying her face against his chest before answering with a sleepy, “Yeah, a good thing.”

  * * * *

  The sharp sting of a slap to her arse cheek jolted Opie awake. She bolted upright. “What the hell?!” Simon’s deep laugh rumbled in the room. She blinked to realise where she was, and with whom. The memory of the previous day’s events flooded back into her brain.

  “Let me guess, not a morning person?”

  She growled at his half grin before letting her eyes slide down the wonderful contours of his naked body, noting all the scars she’d felt as she’d touched him the evening before. She licked her lips as her gaze fell on his proud member, which awakened before her eyes, growing longer and stronger.

  “Cut it out, Opie, it’s hard enough for him to resist you without you looking at him like that.”

  “But he’s so pretty and he feels so wonderful.” She tumbled forward, set on stalking her prey, but he backed up away from the bed.

  “Later. Come on, sleepy, I need to shower, and seeing as we can’t be more than a few feet apart at any given time, that means you’re showering with me.” He turned and stalked away. As she watched him walk away, Opie saw the oddest thing. There was a leaf-shaped pattern on his back just below his right shoulder. In the centre of the shape was an old and ugly looking scar. She followed, staring at it.

  “What is this on your back?”

  “Nothing, forget about it. I’ve been in many battles, and as you can see I have a few scars to show for it.”

  “It looks like a leaf. Is it a weird Norse tattoo?”

  “Opie.” His angry growl made her blink. He’d turned, his eyes hard, like when he’d faced the Gullu demon in the alley. Here stood the demon hunter, the warrior, not the passionate, tender lover from before. Clearly it is a touchy subject for him. She let it drop for now.

  She bounced after him, taking the time to glance around his very castle-looking bedchamber.

  “You’re an old Norseman aren’t you? A raiding Viking.”

  “Never once was I involved in any raids, thank you.”

  “Well, la dee da! Did you wear the helmets with the horns?”

  Simon snorted. “Myth, sweetheart. Real Vikings never had foolish horns on their headwear. It was made up by the story tellers of the modern age to romanticize a brutal age. Plus, I was a king. I had my men do any raiding for me.” He winked.

  “Somehow I doubt you would stay sitting on a cold stone throne and not be a part of the action. Anyway, I want to see you in a horned Viking helmet. I’m into heavy metal.” Opie swept her one arm around the other holding her air guitar as she played, humming the guitar riff from the Deep Purple song, Smoke On The Water. “You’ve got a tight butt, how much do you work out?”

  She shrieked as he lifted her suddenly, slapping her naked arse. “Don’t you ever shut up?”

  “Hey, my arse is not your personal drum. If you want me quiet, make me!”

  Knobs turned. Her scream echoed off the bathroom walls as he’d turned on the cold water full blast.

  “You son of a dragon dung pile!”

  “It’s just water, sweetheart.”

  “You may be used to arctic blasts, but I’m not! Stop trying to turn me into an icy pole! I. Hate. The. Cold!” Her teeth chattered as she glared at him. He turned another knob and warmth seeped into the water. She sighed with relief as her shaking slowly faded. “That was not nice. Dragons and cold don’t mix well together. They left me cold in that cage just to torment me.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” He gathered her in his arms in a tender embrace as the warmer water rained down on them both. “We’ll get them, I promise. Until then, I guess I’ll have to think of another way to silence this pretty mouth.” He tipped up her head and lowered his.

  The simple kiss quickly grew heavy, passionate. He turned her, pushing her back up against the shower wall, devouring her mouth as if he’d been starving for years. Opie melted against him, moaning into his mouth as she opened for his passionate exploration. Her wits scattered to the four winds of time

  He pulled back, and she whimpered at the loss of contact. “If we keep on like this we’ll never get anything done.”

  She pouted. “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “With Gullu demons on the loose, I need to do my job, or there won’t be a human world left to enjoy.”

  “Ah, good point.” She held out her hand. “Pass me the soap, Mr. Viking King.”

  Simon chuckled, handing her a Scandinavian pine scented bar. Figured, you can take the man out of the forest, but you can’t take the forest out of the man.

  “I’m going to smell like you now.” She started lathering the soap to wash herself.

  “And what’s wrong with that?” He mimicked her earlier question.

  For once, Opie couldn’t think of one thing that was wrong. She shrugged, turning. “Can you wash my back, Mr. Viking King who won’t wear a helmet with horns?”

  He chuckled. “As my little dragon wishes.” And wash her he did, running his hands over her skin and between her legs until she screamed her release for him, twice.

  Chapter 7

  As much as he wanted to keep Opie naked, there was no damn way he was letting her outside in just one of his t-shirts, which she’d borrowed as they’d eaten breakfast. She’d eaten a man-sized meal of eggs, bacon, and toast. She’d do the great banquet hall of his old castle proud with her ravenous appetite.

  It was dangerous, but he was becoming far more attached to the sexy ex-princess, other than the magical tether she’d created. He even enjoyed her teasing chatter, and her curiosity knew no bounds as she tried to drag him all over his compound, wanting to know every story about the objects he’d collected and had on display throughout his home. Items he’d collected over the many years of his immortal life.

  Instead of answering her, he dragged her back into the bedroom and into the closet to find her something she could wear.

  “What are you doing?” She peered around him as he sorted out his clothing.

  “Trying to find you something to wear.”

  She pulled back. “Have you forgotten how I dressed before?”

  How had she dressed before?

  An energy filled the air. Last time he’d felt that she’d cast that damn spell. Simon turned and his mouth dropped open. Running his gaze down her body, she was dressed in a tight leather mini skirt, and a white tank with an emerald green see through top. Shiny, black, knee-high high heeled boots completed the ensemble. She was fiddling with her hair, braiding it back.

  “How by Odin’s name did you do that?”

  “Dragon magic, remember? I have that ability.” She finished tying off her hair, flicking it over her shoulder, looking at him quizzically.

  Simon pinched the bridge of his nose as it sank in, his anger simmering once again. “Let me guess, you aced the class where you can conjure clothes, but not break tethering spells?”

  At least she had the sense to look contrite and blush. “Sorry. I’ll wear your clothes if you want.” She picked up his sh
irt from the floor.

  Folding his arms, he glowered. Like hell he’d let her out wearing this, she’d attract even more male attention than if she’d stayed naked.

  “Do you always dress like this? Can you change into something a little less revealing?”

  Her brow dipped and she mimicked his folded arms, pushing up her breasts in the lacy white number she had on under the tank. “Who are you, my father or a priest?”

  Simon bit back the sudden urge to growl. “With the urge to throw you down and fuck you six ways to Sunday, I couldn’t feel less fatherly or saintly. You’ll attract too much attention.”

  She arched a ginger eyebrow. “Surely you won’t be jealous if some hot guy likes what he sees?”

  Rather than take her bait and threaten to disembowel any guy who dares to look at her the wrong way, he turned and stomped away, his mood sour as he finished dressing, making sure he had all his little gadgets hidden away.

  Opie sat on the bed and, much to his relief, she’d changed. Her skirt was longer, even if she did keep those sexy boots with the fuck me heels. Her top was one of those faux plaid school girl things and she had her hair in pigtails.

  Simon grunted. At least she’d covered more flesh, even though it didn’t stop his stupid cock from hardening, or his wanting to follow through on his threat to toss her down and sink balls deep inside her again.

  “Right, let’s weapon up and then get rid of your problem so I can get rid of mine.”

  * * * *

  Lost in her own thoughts of Simon’s reaction to her clothing, she smiled inwardly at his sour mood and lustful glances. All wonderful signs of his jealousy and slow forming bond. She liked the way he held her hand, subconsciously or not. He always seemed to be touching her in some way.

  His arm around her waist as they walked through the London streets, he watched other men check her out and glared daggers at them. But what would happen once he eliminated the danger from her life? With his skill, no doubt he would. She shoved it from her mind and enjoyed the rare peek of clear sky in London CBD.

  Opie finally took stock of where they were walking after they’d parked Simon’s Audi sports car in a little spot just outside of the London CBD. It seemed he had little pockets of land and property all over London.