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

by Amber Kallyn

* * *

  Calla woke and showered, then headed for the door. Scott sat at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of black coffee in front of him. His gray eyes were unfocused as he stared out the large window overlooking the national forest surrounding the cabin. Heat flushed through her body as she remembered the previous night and it was all she could do to restrain herself from pushing him down on the table and having her way with him. But she needed to know, and the wait was killing her. Patience had never been her strongest area.

  As she passed by the doorway, Scott glanced up, took in her jacket, opened his mouth as if to say something, then merely sighed.

  “I’ll be back,” she said softly, giving him a wobbly grin.

  He nodded as she slipped out the door. In her big red truck, Calla drove into the tiny town of Jasper and parked in front of the pharmacy. The small wooden building could have belonged in the fifties. A long counter sat up front with a row of barstools, and signs offering ice cream and soda were prominently displayed.

  Calla bypassed giggling children and smiling parents, the ache in her heart intensifying.

  She wanted that. With every part of herself, she wanted that.

  Which was strange. A little over a year ago, when she met the fireman who became her destined mate, and now her husband, thoughts of a long term relationship and a family had been foreign.

  Finding the correct aisle, she glanced around, thankful to be alone. Calla hurried between the shelves, only to be confronted with way too many choices. Blue, pink, and purple boxes proclaimed they could deliver what she wanted to know, some promising everything but the moon. And she might just be missing that one, hidden somewhere amongst the others. They came in singles, doubles, even triples. With so many choices, how did one decide?

  A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, gripping tight. Calla spun, ready to flay the intruder. She gazed into soft, faded eyes and a face lined with years of experience.

  “Fred,” she whispered.

  “Heya, sweetie. Whatcha doin’ down here?” Scott’s old family friend asked. His glance darted to the colorful boxes behind her, then a broad smile broke through the creases lining his wide mouth. “You and my Scott?”

  Embarrassment flushed heat into her cheeks. Calla clasped her hands together, staring at the black and white checkered tile floor. “Maybe.”

  “You know, lass, I could…”

  Shaking her head, she gently avoided his offer. “I’d like to do it the mortal way. If it works. Don’t tell anyone yet, all right?”

  “Ah.” The silence stretched until she met his gaze. His eyes bled with a yellowish-orange circling the gray. “You need anything, you just call on old Fred, you hear?”

  “Thank you,” she said. His caring, sincere words lifted a tiny piece of the anxiety crawling through her.

  Calla still had yet to find out what exactly Fred was. Magic, of course. But other than that…

  He seemed to have an affinity for disappearing the moment such questions were spoken. Not that she’d been around him all that much lately, with trying to consolidate two households.

  With another grin, Fred tipped an imaginary hat, then strode to the front of the store, hollering hellos to the townspeople.

  Calla turned, grabbed the first box that looked good and hurried to the check out.

  When she got back to Scott’s family home—now their vacation home—Calla stopped in the living room archway. Scott sat in one of the old chocolate colored recliners near the fireplace, a leather bound book propped in his lap.

  She drank in the sight, from his perpetually disheveled dark blond hair, to the scruff on his chin that made him look slightly dangerous. It fit the stonewashed jeans outlining his muscular thighs, and the dark T-shirt stretched tight across his chest. She wanted to crawl across the wood floor and ease her way up those legs, climb into his lap and feel the bulge press against her ass cheeks, run her hands through his hair and devour this man she’d been blessed with as mate.

  Inside, her dragon quivered, catching his musky, male scent over the wood smoke.

  She must’ve made some sound of longing, for he glanced up. His eyes lit with pleasure, and a smile appeared on his wide, nibbleable lips.

  “Can you leave for a while?” she asked.

  Scott’s eyes widened, a hint of pain flashing in the gray speckled with green. “Sure, honey. How long?”

  “A while,” she repeated.

  He gathered his coat and keys, laid a gentle, sweet kiss on her cheek as he passed, then headed out the door. She waited, listening as his truck started and rumbled down the drive.

  Calla hurried upstairs and closed the bedroom door, turning the lock. In the bathroom, she opened the little package, then read the instructions.

  Relief escaped on a sigh. In the movies, they always showed the woman pacing, agonizing for ten to twenty minutes. This one said three.

  A few minutes later, Calla sat on the side of the tub, staring at the two little pink lines. Her mouth worked open and closed, but no sound emerged. She glanced from the instructions, back to the lines.

  A smile dawned. Happiness pushed through her body.

  Then it hit her. Could she really trust this test? She didn’t have any symptoms mortals usually complained about, just her instincts. Maybe it was a false hope.

  Did such things even work for dragons?

  Ready to cry at the confusing, uncontrollable issues facing her, Calla threw everything into the trash, then stormed outside without bothering to grab a jacket. She needed the biting air to cool her off.

  She stomped into the forest, a place that normally calmed her. Wandering aimlessly, Calla didn’t notice her surroundings until an uneasy feeling of being watched crept along the back of her neck.

  Startled, she realized she’d somehow ended up in a strange circular clearing. The feeling of being watched increased, though she couldn’t sense anyone else around.

  Directly in front of her, the air moved, as if stirred by an invisible hand. A shadow appeared, growing clearer in seconds.

  Calla cried out, squeezing her eyes shut at the impossible apparition, the sight making her heart splinter, old wounds ripping open.

  “Dearest, do not fear me,” the sweet, loving voice said.

  Calla squeezed her eyes tighter. This could not be.

  A soft hand, warm and soothing, rubbed her arm. Slowly, Calla opened her eyes and stared at the red-haired, blue-eyed woman in front of her.

  “Mother?” she asked, her voice warbling as her eyes prickled with heat.

  “You and your mate allowed my soul to be freed. Now, I am able to come to you.” A hint of sadness crept into her eyes. “But my time is short, and limited.

  “Mother?” Calla repeated, a million thoughts swirling in her mind.

  “You have been calling to me—in your heart and in your dreams. You’re troubled, darling daughter.”

  As if some barrier had been holding her back, but now disappeared, Calla stumbled forward, throwing herself against the ghostly woman. The scent of her mother filled the air, reminding her of the woman’s love, as warm, solid arms wrapped around her and held tight.

  “Darling, you must tell me what is wrong.”

  “Mom,” Calla sobbed, grasping at the woman dead for over four years now. “How can you be here?”

  Her mother’s body trembled, as if pushing to stay solid rather than floating away as vapors. “Calla, I don’t have much time.”

  Trying to pull herself together, Calla whispered, “I think… Maybe… why did I never listen to you about woman stuff?”

  “Ah, yes. So that is it.” Her mother drew back until Calla could look into her face. “I can assure you everything is as you wish it to be.”

  “You mean, I’m really…”

  Her mother’s tinkling laugh freshened the pain in her heart. She loved that sound, the sound of everything safe, of home. It had been far too long.

  “Yes, dear girl.” She arched a thin brow. “Or woman, I should say now. How
beautiful you are.”

  Calla’s cheeks warmed.

  “Your dreams will come true. This I have seen.”

  “So why am I so… emotional?”

  Her laughter filled the glade. “You are a dragon, darling. We are protectors of all that we treasure, be it love or family. It is instinct, but if you try hard, you may, in time, come to control it. Perhaps by the fifth or sixth time around.”

  Calla’s jaw dropped. “Five or six? You’ve seen that?”

  A knowing smile crossed her mother’s lips. “Perhaps more.”

  A bell dinged somewhere, the sound almost a whisper. Her mother’s eyes darkened as she stepped back.

  “I love you, darling, never forget that.”

  Panic blossomed in Calla’s gut. “Don’t go. Not yet. I have so much I want to tell you.”

  But her mother was already dissolving. “Next year, come here again. I will try to appear.”

  Then she was gone.

  Calla couldn’t bring herself to move as she stared at the emptiness where her mother had stood. She thought she might cry at the loss, yet, inside, the pain she’d carried for so long seemed to have eased.

  Her mother’s soul was free.

  And hope remained, for Calla would return next Christmas, this time with her brothers and sisters. And her mate. She would see her mother again.

  Finally, Calla left the clearing, heading back to the house. With each step, her happiness rose, consuming her. Tomorrow, she would tell Scott about her mother. But tonight…

  She began to make plans. And when she reached the house, she hurried inside, a lightness replacing the burden she’d felt so heavily on her shoulders. Tonight needed to be special.

  Three hours later, with the sun on its downswing, the house was ready. So was she. In a mostly sheer, red negligee, she stoked the living room fire and waited with butterflies flitting inside her stomach.

  The approaching grumble of an engine crept closer, then stopped near the front porch. A minute later, Scott strode in, dropping his keys on the entry table and hanging his coat. His movements were slow as he entered the living room, shoulders slumped and a dogged tiredness filled his steps. He looked worn. Worried.

  Then he saw her.

  Calla stood, moving in front of the fire, letting the firelight make the mostly sheer gown completely see through. Scott’s eyes sparked blue, his desire awake and ready.

  “Good evening, husband,” she said.

  He swallowed. “Good evening, wife. What have you been up to today?”

  “You’re about to find out.” Her voice filled with a laugh that would not be contained. She knew she was glowing, the radiant excitement inside close to bursting. She let it show through her smile and spread her arms wide to welcome him in. “Now, come here.”

  Scott glanced around, as if expecting a trap to spring, but he moved her way, his steps lightening the closer he got. Running her hands over his arms, Calla reached up and pressed her mouth to his.

  His lips softened beneath her touch, parting for her tongue. Scott’s hands roamed her back, caressed her ass.

  She tugged his shirt apart. Pushing the cloth over his shoulders, she kissed along his jaw, then licked his throat.

  When she sucked his Adam’s apple, Scott groaned, tipping his head back. He let his shirt fall to the floor, then grabbed her hips and pulled her against his long, muscled body.

  Staring at her, his gaze cautious, he asked, “Are you okay? You’ve been…”

  “A royal bitch lately?” she asked, softening the words with a grin.

  “Not that bad.”

  “Yes I have, but that’s sweet of you to deny. I’ll tell you why. But first…” She wiggled from his grasp and unbuttoned his jeans.

  Placing soft kisses along his smooth tanned abs, Calla reached down and slid the zipper of his jeans open. His cock tented the boxers. She freed him, wrapping her fingers along his shaft as she yanked the clothes down his hips.

  His sharp inhaled breath was one of pure excitement. She kissed back up his chest, moving to his mouth. Nibbling his lower lip, she pushed her belly against his hardness. Scott pulled her close, holding her tight.

  His tongue slid into her mouth, exploring, tasting, as if he wanted to devour her.

  Consumed by his heat, Calla could barely think, only enjoy the sensations he made her feel. But she owed this darling man an apology. And she was going to give it to him, all night long.

  Stepping from the warmth of his embrace, Calla ran her hands along his sides, then dropped to her knees. She stared into his surprised face, laying a gentle kiss on the tip of his velvety length.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  A grin curled his lips, reaching his eyes, now a blazing blue. “I love you too, darling.”

  She ached with need, her juices flowing, ready for him. But she wanted to play, to taste him.

  Wrapping her lips over the tip, she slid him deep into her mouth, sucking hard.

  “God, baby,” he groaned, fingers digging into her shoulders, his breathing heavy.

  She rubbed both sides of the base of his shaft, springy blond hairs tickling her fingers. His cock worked in and out of her mouth, while she sucked every smooth inch. Teasing his balls against her palm, she drew back and nipped the tip.

  Scott shuddered beneath her touch.

  Calla licked the throbbing vein along the bottom of his thickness, pressing her tongue near the base. Then she nibbled his long length before sucking him back inside her mouth, drawing him so deep the tip touched her throat.

  His hips jerked frantically. “Honey…”

  Fingertips rubbing the spot behind his balls, Calla swirled her tongue around his cock, then pulled away, before devouring him once more.

  “Honey, I…”

  “Mmm,” she hummed.

  His reply was an unintelligible groan.

  Calla sucked harder, letting his hips move as she used lips, tongue and teeth along his length.

  Scott shouted hoarsely as hot come spurted. Calla stared up at him as she swallowed it, then licked him clean.

  A satisfied grin on his lips, Scott held out his hand to help her to her feet.

  “Dinner’s waiting,” she said, tugging his pants up his hips before leading him to the stairs.

  “Dinner?” he asked, glancing back toward the kitchen.

  “Yup. Dinner.”

  * * *

  He let her tug him upstairs and to their bedroom. Inside, his eyes widened at the glowing candles lighting the room, and the makeshift table she’d created near the bay window.

  “Come,” she said softly.

  “When you do,” he replied with a happy grin.

  Scott took in the soft flush in Calla’s cheeks, the strange glow in her eyes. She’d been gone all morning, only to kick him out of the house when she got back. Coming home to find her wrapped in the sheer negligee, waiting for him, was beyond his wildest dreams.

  Calla led him to the pillows on the floor, then commanded, “Strip.”

  He happily obliged, then laid on the pillows.

  Calla took a cherry from one of the bowls and rubbed it along his lips. Leaning closer, her tongue darted along his skin, tracing the path of the cherry.

  She slid the sweet fruit into his mouth and he took it, sucking her fingertips before she could draw away.

  Reaching to another table, Calla lifted the slightly squashed mistletoe he’d found in the forest and held it above them.

  “Kiss me,” she said.

  He lifted on his elbows to reach her red lips and nibbled. Her hand rubbed along the back of his neck, tugging him closer, as her tongue slipped inside his mouth. She tasted like cherries and her constant, unique vanilla.

  His cock stirred, ready for action. Ready to feel her hot little pussy around him. But she slid her hands to his chest and forced him back onto the bed of pillows.

  From beside her, she lifted a wine glass and dribbled icy liquid over his chest and stomach. He jerked deeper in
to the pillows.

  Calla laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it off.”

  Her tongue trailed over his chest, her teeth scraping his nipples. At his stomach, she paid special attention to his belly button, before moving to his cock.

  He grasped her ass, the sheer material of the sexy nightie slick and soft between their skin. She pushed his hand away.

  “Mmm. No touching, love.”

  She fed him a square of cheese, followed by grapes, cherries and chocolate. With each bite, he licked her fingers clean.

  His cock twitched with eager anticipation. If his wife didn’t let him fuck her soon, she was going to drive him nuts.

  As Calla reached for the next bite of food, Scott grabbed her arms and pulled her on top of him. She squeaked, but fell into his embrace without a word.

  Her body stretched along his, her eyes filling with a playful amusement. Scott grabbed her hair, wrapping it in his fist and nudging her into his kiss. Exploring her mouth with his tongue, he roamed her lower back and her ass with his free hand. She ground her hips against his, rubbing her pussy along his cock.

  With a quick twist, Scott flipped them over, pinning her to the pillows.

  “Now it’s my turn,” he growled.

  “As you wish,” she replied with a giggle.

  He tugged the straps of the negligee, but didn’t uncover her breasts just yet. She liked her nipples played with through cloth. Licking the slope of her breast, he swirled his tongue over one peaked nipple before drawing the tight little bud into his mouth, furiously working his teeth and lips over her sensitiveness.

  She moaned, her back arching.

  Getting to his knees, Scott examined the array of food she’d provided. A grin twitched his lips.

  “Whipped cream, really, darling?” he asked.

  “I figured you’d like that.”

  He eased the negligee from her breasts. Taking the can, he circled her nipples with white foam. With a grin, he dotted both with cherries.

  “You know this is every man’s fantasy.”

  She giggled. “As long as it’s yours.”

  Bending, he drew his tongue along her skin in short, quick dabs, devouring the whipped cream, then sucked each nipple to capture the cherries.

  Her hands ran through his hair, gripping, tugging. Done cleaning both breasts, he took a slice of dark creamy chocolate and slipped it into her mouth.