The Complete Bundle (Books 1, 1.5, 2, 3 and 4)

by Amber Kallyn

  How could he have gotten so deep inside her in just a few days? Sex was great, but she’d had that with other men.

  Not many, but enough to know that sex didn’t make a relationship. She couldn’t even blame it on the mating heat. Sure, that propelled them into bed. But the heat didn’t guarantee both parties would like each other, much less fall in love. It just told them they were compatible in ways of conceiving children.

  No.

  It was all he’d done, all he stood for, that truly got her.

  Calla shook her head. It didn’t matter he made her burn, made her come so sweetly. She had a life to get back to.

  Lights flashed and a siren rose behind her.

  “Damn it to hell.” She’d only been going… a glance at her speedometer told her thirty over the posted limit.

  “Great. Just great,” she whispered, pulling to the side of the road.

  In her rearview mirror, someone stepped out of the passenger side and hurried to her window. She rolled it down and opened her mouth to apologize for her speed.

  But it wasn’t a cop.

  Scott grinned at her. “Damn, baby. You drive like a wild woman.”

  Calla swallowed the lump stuck in her throat, pain and hope warring within her. “Did I forget something?”

  He leaned in through the window, grabbed her neck and pulled her closer. His lips descended on hers, and Calla filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the burning.

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “Me.”

  * * *

  Burned Beneath the Mistletoe

  Dragos Book 1.5

  by

  Amber Kallyn

  What’s a great way to spend a night with your mate? Indulge and make his body your very own buffet.

  Something’s not right. Dragon shifter Calla O’Neil can’t stop the emotional rollercoaster taking over her actions. When she finally finds out why, she’s going to celebrate by making her husband, Scott, her very own personal body buffet.

  “What do you mean, you forgot the mistletoe?” Calla shouted, jerking her hands through her long vibrant red hair. The cinnamon freckles across her pert nose and high cheekbones almost disappeared into the heat of anger coloring her normally pale face.

  Scott O’Neil glanced at his wife, about to laugh. Then her blue eyes flashed ruby. He’d happily, with full courage, face a raging forest fire in the line of duty without second thought. But his pissed off wife, about to go dragony? That one made him slightly nervous—at least, it did lately.

  “Honey, it’s okay. We don’t need it to finish decorating the Christmas tree,” he tried to appease her.

  She growled, stomping her foot. Scott reached for her shoulder, but Calla whipped her head to the side and snapped her teeth.

  Jaw dropping, Scott could do nothing but stare. His little dragon had actually snapped at him.

  The color drained from her face. “I...”

  Without warning, she burst into tears and ran to the front door. She swung it open with such force, the handle crashed into the wall. Scott chased after her, but as he made it to the porch, Calla stood in the yard, already shifting.

  It was over in a blink. His wife’s small womanly form wavered, expanding into a towering ruby dragon. Her scales shimmered in the meager sunlight peeking through the heavy clouds. Her immense wings unfurled. As she leapt into the sky, gusts of air stirred the leaves strewn over the yard. She whipped her spike tipped tail back and forth.

  “Calla?” Scott shouted. Her overwhelming form didn’t scare him in the least. He wanted to finish their conversation. Then again, maybe she needed some time to cool off.

  She turned, her reddish eyes bright above her long snout. A puff of black smoke curled up from her nose. Calla shook her horned head and flew away over the treetops.

  Stomping back into the house, Scott threw on a fur-collared jacket before heading toward the forest surrounding the property. Maybe the chill winter air of the mountains might clear his head. Near the line of pine trees marking the edge of the national forest, he stopped and searched the dark, cloudy sky, hoping for a glimpse of shiny red scales.

  Nothing.

  Stepping into the trees, he kept his breathing even and deep, trying to figure out what he’d done to piss her off. It couldn’t be just the stupid mistletoe he’d forgotten. Calla normally took something tiny like that in stride. They’d laugh it off, sharing a nibbling kiss or two. Most times she let him love her body as apology.

  Was she unhappy being tied down? Their courtship could only be described as tumultuous at best, with danger lurking around every tree and rock. Now, life was tame in comparison. Sure, she’d been the first to offer a compromise, volunteering to move up here to Jasper. But Scott could get a job at any fire station. As an arson investigator, Calla’s office was based out of Phoenix. Small mountaintop towns weren’t plagued by an abundance of arsons—at least not usually. The black dragon, corrupted by dark magics, they’d fought last year had been unusual.

  Did she want out of their marriage?

  He didn’t know.

  An hour later, still confused as hell, Scott came to a strange circular clearing within the forest he’d never before seen, though he’d grown up here. The clouds overhead broke apart, allowing a lone ray of sunlight to shine into the very center of the small glade.

  It highlighted a mound of plants around an old, rotted tree stump. Clumpy olive-green leaves glistened with morning dew. Clustered in the center, red berries shone bright.

  Mistletoe.

  Scott hurried forward, reaching to pluck a handful. Around him, the air became deathly still, the birds and insects falling silent. He jerked upright, glancing everywhere, the shadowy forest seeming to encroach on him. Not a single pine needle moved.

  Something cold slid across the back of his neck. Goose bumps rapidly spread down his arms as his heart beat faster. From the corner of his eye, something shimmered, almost as if the air itself undulated.

  Fear dried his mouth and skittered down his spine as the shadow suspended in the unstirring air began to resolve into the form of a tall woman.

  Scott scooped a handful of the mistletoe, turned and raced back into the trees. It couldn’t have been a ghost. Such things didn’t exist. Besides, it was Christmas, not Halloween.

  It didn’t matter that in the past year, Calla had introduced him to many wondrous magical things that really did exist. She’d never said anything about ghosts.

  He covered the distance between the clearing and the house in a quick trot. By the time it came into view, Scott convinced himself what happened in the clearing was nothing more than his stressed imagination.

  He pushed it from his thoughts and entered the house, wondering if his wife had returned yet. Footsteps came from the second story near their bedroom. Scott stood at the bottom of the stairs, debating whether to go up, or wait for Calla. Remembering her extreme anger—she’d snapped at him!—he decided to wait.

  In the living room, he put the precious plant on a table and stoked the fire, adding another log to warm the room.

  Above him, their bedroom door slammed. Thumps headed downstairs. Calla stopped in the arched doorway of the living room, shooting him a glare that might just whither the half-decorated Christmas tree behind him.

  Damn. Still pissed.

  Calla clasped her hands behind her back. Her large, lovely breasts jutted forward, straining against the thin T-shirt. Hell. That was another thing lately. He took in the jeans emphasizing her curvy body, trying to tone down his rampaging lust. They used to have sex multiple times a day, but it had been almost a week since she’d let him touch her.

  Silent, Calla stomped to the Christmas tree and pulled an ornament from the box. She turned to face him, a glassy blue ball dangling from her finger, hints of red sparks shooting his way.

  Grinning, Scott teased the air around her. His vision changed, the air becoming strands of colors, stirring and swirling from her movements. He blew her a kiss, pushing it along an orangi
sh colored line of air. It caressed her cheek, her lips, brushing some crimson strands of hair from her face.

  She snorted, her eyes darkening with a ring of red as her dragon showed it was still close to the surface. “Let’s get this done,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  Scott blinked at her bland tone. “Of course, darling.”

  “Hmph.” She turned to the tree and hooked the small glass ball on the tip of a branch, then bent over, rummaging in the box, treating him to a delicious view of her heart-shaped ass.

  His cock sprang to life, pulsing in hot agony.

  Grabbing the mistletoe, Scott took a step toward his wife. When she didn’t blast him with fire, he edged closer. Her ass beckoned, but he resisted pulling her against his aching groin. Instead, he trailed his hand up her spine.

  Calla jerked, spinning to face him, her mouth thin, face white.

  Scott grinned, and held out the berried greenery. “Merry Christmas.”

  Her eyes softened. “Mistletoe. You found some.”

  Holding it above their heads, he wiggled his eyebrows. Calla laughed, the anger fading from her eyes, replaced by the flush of desire.

  Pulling her close, he gently touched his lips to hers.

  Calla grabbed his hips and pressed against him, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

  The mistletoe—had to be magic—dropped to the floor. Running his hands down her arms, he was startled when she grabbed his erection through his jeans.

  Drawing back, he asked, “Are you sure?”

  Her voice came thick and husky. “Here. Now.”

  A rollercoaster. But this was one mood shift he would enjoy.

  He tugged her T-shirt from her jeans. Calla raised her arms as he drew it over her head and tossed it onto the box of Christmas ornaments. Her creamy breasts swelled enticingly over the lacy cups of her black bra. The freckle near her cleavage drove him crazy, as it had since the first time he’d seen it.

  Lowering his head, he kissed the freckle, then nibbled along her collarbone. She pressed her chest to his as Scott tasted the burning skin along the curve of her neck, paying special attention to the hollow beneath her jaw where her pulse pounded.

  He grabbed her hips, pulling her closer. Inhaling deeply, Scott drew in her soothing scent—cherry blossoms and vanilla. Running his tongue along her jaw, he licked along her parted lips before slipping inside. She kissed him back with barely restrained passion. Scott slid one hand forward to caress between her thighs.

  Calla’s breath came heavier, as she grabbed his sides. Her head fell back, giving him perfect access to her breasts. He rubbed her mound through her jeans while burying his face in her cleavage and kissing her soft flesh.

  Panting loudly, mixed with moans, Calla’s hips rocked in time to his hand.

  “God, baby. I want you,” he murmured.

  Her eyes flashed and she grinned.

  Calla stepped back and eased open the buttons of his shirt. Her nails lightly scraped his chest, then his abdomen, sending sparks of heat over his skin. She pushed his shirt apart, running her fingertips over his pecks. Then she attacked them with her hot, wet tongue. Her lips clamped on one nipple. A growl rumbled from him as his cock pressed tight against the all-too-confining jeans.

  Her tongue worked down the thin trail of blond hair to his waistband. Calla dropped to her knees and unzipped his pants. Breathing heavy with glorious anticipation, Scott stared as she peeked up from beneath thick black lashes. Then she smiled, her old mischievous grin, absent for so long.

  * * *

  Calla ran her hands over his skin, loving the way he almost seemed to burn. Tugging her husband’s jeans to mid-thigh, she wrapped her fingers around his cock straining through the flannel boxers.

  His intake of breath was loud, as loud as the pounding of her heart, of the blood rushing to her ears. She wanted to lick every inch of him.

  Lust drove away her earlier anger. She couldn’t even remember why she’d been so mad in the first place.

  When she tightened her grip, Scott’s hips jutted toward her. Loving the way he twitched against her palm, she parted the slit in his boxers, freeing his hard pulsing length. She nibbled the dark, velvety tip, tasting his salty fluid. His tortured groans enflamed her desire.

  “My turn,” he growled, yanking her up roughly and backing her toward the blazing fireplace. Laying her on the furry rug, Scott knelt beside her as he ripped her jeans and panties off. He made even shorter work of his own clothes before stretching out alongside her, their legs twining, bodies brushing, slickened skin rubbing. His hands roamed her back, her butt, moving between her thighs to tease her throbbing clit.

  She caressed his length, enjoying his mumbled sounds of delight. He flicked her nipples through the lace of the bra, sending fiery pulses through her body.

  Gods, she wanted him inside her. Now. But he pulled away from her grasp.

  Leaning above her, Scott smiled, his eyes changed from their normal speckled gray to full blue, as dark as the sky right before a thunderstorm. Love and lust raged in his gaze, and Calla braced herself to take it all. In a rush he moved to her breasts, his teeth biting at one of her nipples.

  The lovely semi-pain of his teeth and the coarse lace rubbing her skin shot heat to her core. She arched her back, demanding more. When she scraped her nails over his back and down his ass, Scott shuddered beneath her touch.

  He fumbled at the clasp of her bra. It sprang free and he tore it from her arms. Cupping her breasts, he squeezed them together, then licked every inch before rising above her like a conquering warrior.

  His cock nudged her opening, tantalizing her with denied pleasure.

  She wiggled but he ignored her.

  Leaving her breasts, Scott placed gentle kisses on her stomach, then covered her mound, sucking her clit so hard she screamed, nearly coming. His fingers spread her lips apart. When his tongue slid inside her, Calla’s hips bucked uncontrollably. She pushed against his touch, unable to control her whimpers.

  More.

  She wanted more.

  He licked her up and down, the scruff on his chin rasping against her oh-too-sensitive skin. His teeth captured her clit and he tugged. Calla cried out as the orgasm hit.

  Her body trembled, waves crashing through her. Scott pushed a finger inside, moving in and out, increasing the sensations. He flicked his tongue over her, light, yet urgent, before nipping her clit.

  Dizzy with need, she clutched at his shoulders, urging him to fill her.

  His thumb replaced his tongue as he kissed along her belly, nibbling at her breasts, then met her lips. The taste of herself combined with his tangy, spicy maleness filled her mouth.

  “I can’t take this slow,” he said urgently.

  “Then don’t,” she replied, almost breathless.

  With a harsh groan, he slid into her, giving her what she longed for. His hips jerked, so hard, so good, before he withdrew. Then he slammed into her once more.

  She gasped against his lips, hands running through his messy blond hair. Frantic whimpers tore from her throat with every quickened breath, with every plunge of his hardness. The edge drew near. She shuddered, writhing on the fur rug beneath the headiness of his comforting weight.

  His hot mouth was everywhere, her lips, throat, behind her ear.

  She ran her hands over his back, loving the play of muscles beneath skin. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she rose to take him deeper. She needed this. This connection, this joining. It had been days since he’d loved her. Somewhere deep inside, she knew it was because of her, but she couldn’t hold it long enough to think it through. She didn’t want to.

  He pumped into her, his sweat-slicked chest rubbing her tight nipples, hair rasping the sensitive peaks.

  Calla moaned as the orgasm drew closer, her muscles tensing in anticipation. Scott worked his hips side to side, increasing the sensations. Then she fell, shouting as pleasure ripped through her body, the exquisite pulses spreading to her curling toes.

 
Scott slammed into her harder. His groans rumbled near her ear, his breath hot and heavy pulsing against her skin. She gripped his ass, nails digging in. He captured her mouth, kissing her frantically.

  “I love you, Calla,” he cried.

  Her heart expanded with their love and she grabbed him tighter. He moved inside her, their bodies pounding against one another, filling her with the heat of their love.

  Calla cried out, hands tight on his ass, her legs locked around him. Her pussy clenched him tight, and she felt his hardness with such intensity the storm didn’t abate, but continued to rage inside her.

  He shouted into her mouth as hot seed filled her. His movements became sporadic, then slowed. Scott rested his forehead on hers and smiled, their panted breaths mingling. Then he gently kissed the corner of her lips before sliding to her side, taking his time as if he didn’t want to leave. Draping one arm over her stomach, he tugged her back against his chest.

  “I love you too,” she whispered.

  Scott traced small circles on her belly before running up her arm, to her shoulder. But his movements were hesitant, almost unsure.

  Calla stared into the flames of the fire burning low beside them. She’d brought her strong, confident husband to this. Yet, her emotions didn’t seem to be hers to control lately. She thought she knew why.

  Maybe.

  Hopefully.

  But she couldn’t bear to be wrong again. Over a year they’d been mated, married for two months. And yet, the final step had not happened.

  But maybe…

  If only there was someone to answer her questions. Her mother had tried talking to her about dragons and mating and emotions, but Calla had never been interested. Now it was too late.

  Tomorrow, she’d get a test. Come home, try it out.

  Scott snuggled against her, his breathing deepening as he fell asleep.

  If disappointment claimed her heart again, well, she’d just hope for next time.