No Such Thing as Dragons : Complete Series Box Set (Books 1 - 5)

by Lauren Lively

  I suck in a deep breath when he leans forward, tracing the tip of his tongue around my wet, swollen lips. And when he slides his tongue inside of me, I cry out as my body explodes with pleasure. Nyro starts to lick me, sucking on my clit and fingering me with zeal. He works his fingers and his tongue within me harder and faster, making me cry out as I pull his long hair and push his face down deeper into the warm, wet center of me while I grind myself against his mouth.

  Nyro uses his mouth on me expertly, making my breath catch in my throat and my heart thunders in my chest. He licks and sucks, working his fingers in and out of me and I feel the pressure building up low within me. I bite my lip and pull on his hair as he plunges his fingers deep inside of me, sucking hard on my clit at the same time.

  And that's enough to push me over the edge. My orgasm comes crashing down on me like an avalanche and pulls me under. I cry out as my body trembles and shakes. Looking down at Nyro, I see him staring back up at me from between my thighs, his eyes seeming to glow once more.

  As my orgasm slowly subsides, he stands up, his eyes still locked on mine. I immediately sit up and start working on his belt. When I finally get his pants undone, I slide them down his thighs and take hold of his long, firm cock. He gasps when I squeeze it tight and start to stroke it.

  I lean forward and run the tip of my tongue around the head of his cock, making him draw in a sharp breath. His hands are in my hair, tugging on it as I take him into my mouth, licking and sucking on his hard, thick shaft. Nyro grabs my hair and tugs it hard as he starts to move his hips, pumping his cock into my mouth. I squeeze him hard and tight at the base of his cock as he drives himself into my mouth over and over, his moans sounding more like a growl escaping his throat.

  His breathing a little ragged, Nyro steps back, letting his cock slip out of my mouth. He lifts my chin and locks eyes with me – that shimmery, dreamlike feeling growing in intensity.

  “I need you,” he says, his voice husky. “I need to be inside of you.”

  Without waiting for me to say a word, he stands me up and turns me around. He bends me over the arm of the couch and pushes my skirt up around my waist. Nyro steps forward, grabbing a handful of my hair and gives it a vicious yank as he drives his cock into me, hard and deep. My eyes grow wide and a surprised gasp escapes me as I feel him filling me up and stretching me open.

  Nyro is large and thick and having him thrust himself so roughly inside of me caught me by surprise and sent a sharp sting of pain shooting through me. But then he lays a hand on my back and I swear I feel my skin growing warm – but then the pain is gone as quickly as it had come. And what I'm left with is nothing but sheer pleasure and bliss as he begins to move his cock inside of me.

  Nyro thrusts his hips hard and fast, driving himself into me roughly as he pulls harder on my hair.

  “You feel so good, Kaitlyn,” he moans. “So tight. So wet.”

  He's fucking me so hard and the pleasure exploding within me is so intense, I can't seem to form a coherent thought – let alone a coherent sentence. All I can do is feel. And the feeling of his cock moving inside of me is unlike anything I've ever experienced before. It's amazing and powerful.

  Pushing back against him, taking him even deeper inside of me, I cry out and throw my head back. I look back over my shoulder at him and have to blink my eyes a few times. Nyro has his eyes closed, his head back, and seems to have a strange glow around his body. He's muttering softly – too softly for me to understand – but it sounds like a foreign language. And all the while, he keeps thrusting his hips, driving himself into me.

  I gasp when he turns his eyes down to me – feeling almost like I'd been caught doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing. His eyes are intense, seeming to glow with that inner light and it sets off another wave of that shimmery, dreamlike feeling inside of me.

  “Turn around,” he growls. “Don't look at me.”

  I turn back around again quickly, my skin warming up – the ominous feeling that had been creeping up on me driven out by one of pure euphoria that leaves me feeling dizzy.

  “Do you like this, Kaitlyn?” he asks. “Does this feel good?”

  My own breathing is ragged, but I finally manage to speak. “Yes,” I croak. “It feels amazing.”

  “Good,” he says, his voice smooth and controlled. “Just feel. Enjoy.”

  I do as he says, letting the sensations roll through my body as he thrusts his hard, thick cock into me. I feel like I'm touching a live wire, the energy coursing through me is pure electricity. I feel the orgasm building up within me a split second before it overwhelms me. Not prepared for it, I spasm hard, my pussy pulsing and tightening around Nyro's cock. My cries are loud and echo around the room.

  Nyro's rhythm falters and I feel his body tensing up, his grip on my hair grows even tighter. His moan is more like a growl again as the tension in his body builds to a crescendo and then the dam of his own resolve breaks. I feel his shaft throbbing and pulsing inside of me as a warm flood of his spunk shoots into me.

  I feel his seed filling me up and a strange heat filling my body. His cock growing flaccid, Nyro steps back and drops down onto the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He's panting as if he'd just run a marathon and sweat is rolling down his body. He looks entirely spent.

  Tugging my skirt back down into place, I fall down onto the couch beside him, still feeling his warm, wet seed inside of me. Still feeling that heat spreading throughout my body. But like Nyro, I feel spent. Exhausted. Wrung out.

  I lay my head down on his chest and close my eyes, intending to rest for just a moment. But then the darkness of sleep begins to creep in at the edges of my vision and it's not long before it pulls me under entirely.

  Chapter Five

  Wyn

  “Explain it to me again,” he says.

  I'm standing in Quint's office on the upper floor of his club, Heat. He's sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his seat staring at me, his fingers steepled in front of him. I sigh and grit my teeth, telling him the entire story once more.

  “Correct me if I'm wrong,” Quint says, “but weren't you supposed to be out patrolling?”

  “Yeah, but –”

  “Did you see something dangerous in the club?” he asks. “Was there a threat to human life?”

  “No, but –”

  “So, what you're telling me is that you popped into the club to blow off a little steam?” he asks. “Maybe find some willing woman to take home?”

  “It's not like that.”

  “No?” he asks, his tone growing progressively colder. “Then how is it exactly? Because all I know is that you're knocking a few back in some nightclub instead of doing your job.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. This is exactly what I mean about Quint always being up my ass about one thing or another. Here I am, bringing him something significant – something important – and all he's focused on is the fact that I was in a club.

  “The streets have been quiet for a few weeks now,” I say. “I ran my patrol earlier in the evening and just wanted to take a few –”

  “Yeah, I get it,” he says, leaning on his desk, his eyes boring into mine. “You wanted to shirk your responsibilities and forgo your duties. Again.”

  “That's not exactly fair, Warden. I –”

  “You have a job to do here, Wyn,” he snaps. “You took an oath to do it. People are depending upon you doing that job. Lives are at stake.”

  “I'm aware of my oath, Warden.”

  “And yet, you so frequently choose to disregard it.”

  I ball my fists up at my side and stare down at the floor, doing my best to control my temper. The last thing I need is to lose it on Warden Quint. That wouldn't go well for me. I may not be the proverbial rocket scientist, but I'm smart enough to know that much. Quint is a legend with a blade. Not to mention the fact that he has the loyalty of all his Rangers. They'd side with him in a heartbeat if it came down to a fight.
r />   But honestly, I don't get the loyalty – Quint is an asshole.

  “I brought this to you because it seems significant,” I seethe. “I've never encountered a human with an aura like that before – much less two humans.”

  “Perhaps it is,” he says. “But that doesn't discount the fact that you violated your oath. You broke the rules –”

  “And if I hadn't, you wouldn't have this information, Warden,” I snap. “If it's significant, if it maybe helps explain why the streets have been so quiet lately, and gives us a heads up about something big going down, does it really matter that I was at a goddamn club?”

  “He's right, you know,” came a voice from the doorway behind me.

  I turn to see Deyro standing there, his sword strapped across his back and a burlap sack in his hand – he'd obviously just come back from patrol. He looks at me and gives me a little wink before stepping into the office.

  “So, you're back to advocating breaking the rules again, Deyro?” Quint asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I thought you'd wised up.”

  “Nah,” he says. “I just can't make life too easy on you, Quint.”

  Quint chuckles and laughs, shaking his head. Deyro drops the bag he's carrying on the Warden's desk – it hits with a wet, meaty thud. Quint looks up at him, a question in his eyes. Deyro just shrugs.

  “All I'm saying,” Deyro says. “Is that if something is going down, it'd be nice to have a heads up about it. I'd like to have some idea of what's coming for us before it's right in our face. And if we got that information through – unconventional means – so be it.”

  “Perhaps,” Quint allows. “But I will not tolerate insubordination, flouting of our rules, and quite frankly, your damn attitude. Do you understand me, Wyn?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say. “It won't happen again.”

  More like – I won't let you catch me again, is what I'm actually thinking. There doesn't seem to be a point of patrolling as hard and often as he wants us to when there's nothing going on out there. The Wardens all want us to blend into human society seamlessly. They want us to know and understand the beings we're charged with protecting. What better way to get to know and understand them than by interacting with them in their natural environments?

  “If it does, there will be punishment, Wyn,” he says, catching and holding my gaze. “You will leave me no choice. I cannot have this kind of behavior in my Rangers. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal,” I say.

  Quint gives me a long look before turning his attention to Deyro. “What's in the bag?”

  The big Ranger shrugs. “I honestly don't know,” he says. “I've never seen anything like it before and was actually hoping you could help me figure it out.”

  A look of curiosity crosses the Warden's face as he opens up the bag and takes out the contents. My eyes slightly wider, I stare at the head he'd removed and set on top of the burlap sack. It's more oblong shaped than round, the skin is gray and mottled, the eyes large and black – there are literally no whites to the eyes. There is a smattering of hair on the head, though it's more or less bald – it looks like the hair just fell out in clumps.

  In most ways, it looks like a human's head – and yet, it doesn't.

  “What in the hell is that?” I ask.

  Deyro chuckles. “I'm wondering if this is an alien,” he says. “Maybe this is what's responsible for abducting people out of their trailer parks and shoving probes up their asses.”

  Quint gives him a stern look – but can't quite keep the small smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks closer at the head, turning it around to get a better view of it. I watch him closely and can see the wheels turning in his head. And it's subtle – very subtle – but I see a look of alarm in his eyes. Or if not alarm, uncertainty. He knows something.

  “Where did you get this?” Quint asks.

  “Off the shoulders of one of these things,” he jokes.

  Quint shoots him a look – clearly not in the mood for jokes. Deyro nods, the smile slipping from his face.

  “I came across this thing in an alley a few miles from here,” he says, his tone serious. “It wasn't attacking anybody, but this clearly isn't something that should be running around in the streets. So, I killed it.”

  “I'm going to need to take this to Chondelai,” he says. “I need to consult with the Keeper.”

  “What is it?” I ask. “I can see in your eyes that you know something.”

  Anger flashes in Quint's eyes when he looks at me. Clearly, I haven't earned the right to ask questions of him yet.

  “I don't know anything for certain,” he says. “And unlike you, I prefer to have solid information to work with rather than jumping to conclusions.”

  “Is he right though?” Deyro asks. “Do you have an idea of what this is?”

  Quint gives him a tight smile. “I might,” he says. “But I hesitate to mention it simply because I'm not certain.”

  Deyro nods, accepting the Warden's words – much to my chagrin. I want to know.

  “Tell me one thing,” Deyro says. “Is it bad?”

  Quint stands up and sighs, placing the head back into the bag, not answering for a long moment. He looks up at us and the expression on his face is inscrutable – although I can see the tightness around his mouth and eyes. He's clearly nervous.

  Which, in turn, makes me nervous since Quint is not an easy man to rattle.

  “If I'm right,” he finally says, “this is bad. Very, very bad. Zarik is in charge while I'm gone.”

  He picks up the bag and heads for the door, Deyro and I watching him go. There's a sense of unease in the air between us. A sense of uncertainty.

  I suddenly have a bad feeling that our little respite might be coming to an end and a fight is looming in the near distance.

  Chapter Six

  “Why does he hate me so much?” I ask.

  Deyro and I are sitting at the bar down the street from Quint's club having a drink. Something to take the edge off a bit since I'm still a little keyed up about the Warden ripping me a new one – something I don't feel I deserved.

  After I passed the Trials and was assigned to Quint's territory, Deyro had taken me under his wing – probably at Quint's command since we were roughly similar in age. But he talks to me. Trains with me. He tries to impart his wisdom. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that Deyro doesn't sugar-coat anything. He tells it like it is.

  “He doesn't hate you. It's his job to be a hardass,” Deyro says.

  “Yeah, well, he's really good at his job,” I grouse.

  “You're still young. New,” Deyro said. “He's still getting to know you.”

  “Does he have to be such an asshole about it?” I ask. “Why can't he just have a drink and a conversation with me?”

  Deyro shrugs. “That's not really Quint's style,” he says. “Believe me when I tell you that I've been exactly where you are right now. I was the new kid. I was young and just coming into the ranks of the Rangers. I got a baptism by fire with Quint. He wasn't what I expected at all.”

  I take a long swallow of my beer and set it back down on the bar. The place is dimly lit – a hole in the wall. It's dim, a little dingy and battle scarred. The place has been here a while and has seen generations of people moving through its doors, wearing grooves into the bar stools we're sitting on. It is, in every sense of the word, a dive bar – the polar opposite of Club Ice. And honestly, I'm surprised that a guy like Deyro feels so at home here.

  Deyro is something of a legend among the young, aspiring Rangers. His cavalier attitude and willingness to flout authority is widely admired among those in training – me included. To be honest, his rebelliousness is as legendary – if not more so – than his skill with a blade. His brash, bold attitude is something many of us have tried to emulate.

  Which is why I've been so surprised by him – he's nothing like his legend suggests. He's just another of Quint's loyal foot soldiers. And any streak of rebelliousness he was
supposed to have seems to have evaporated somewhere along the way.

  To use the parlance of humans, from where I'm sitting, Deyro seems to have sold out.

  “Tell me something,” Deyro says. “Why did you take the Trials? Why did you want to be a Ranger in the first place?”

  I shrug. “It's what I've always wanted,” I say. “I remember being back in Chondelai when I was young. I remember the esteem the Rangers were held in. That they were feared and admired.”

  “So, basically, you wanted to do it because of the status of being a Ranger?”

  “No, I think it's an honor to be a Ranger,” I say. “I'm proud to do what I do.”

  “Because it raises your esteem in the eyes of others? In the eyes of your Clan?”

  Honestly, I hadn't thought about it that deeply or in quite those terms before. I know that for most, becoming a Ranger is a calling. A passion. I know that some do it because they truly believe in protecting humanity. They believe in the mission of the Rangers. They're true believers.

  I guess it's never been about the calling for me. And if I'm being honest with myself, I guess I have to say that esteem played a role in me taking the Trials in the first place. I grew up in a House within my clan that wasn't held in very high regard. And I knew that becoming a Ranger would increase the esteem of my House.

  So, I trained hard, worked my ass off, and became the youngest Ranger ever – which increased the esteem of my House exponentially. Maybe it is selfish – but we're all selfish from time to time. I'm here and I'm doing my job. Does it matter that I'm not necessarily a true believer like some?

  “I used to be the youngest Ranger under Quint,” Deyro said. “And just like you, I was a bit cocky. Arrogant. A little full of myself.”

  “I don't think I'm any of those things,” I say.

  Deyro chuckles. “I'm telling you that you are though,” he says. “Confidence is one thing. Confidence is good. But believe me when I tell you that there is always somebody out there who is better than you. Somebody who can take you down in a heartbeat.”

  I take another long drink of my beer and look away, feeling irritated. Deyro is young, like me. He's supposed to understand where I'm coming from. He's not that much older than I am. He's supposed to understand me. He's supposed to help me. Not beat me down like Quint does.