Dragon's Successor (BBW/Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 2)

by Isadora Montrose

  “You have to take woman, Kayla,” he said urgently to her. “Concentrate, damn it. Turn.”

  Kayla didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. Take what woman? She just stared unblinkingly at him, lashing her tail from side to side. She was angry. She was bewildered. And she wanted her man. She walked one pace forward and collapsed.

  Her body was being squeezed in a massive cattle chute operated by some sadist. Her bones and joints were being compressed and molded past endurance. In her pain she screamed aloud and flames shot up to the ceiling. She was so startled that she immediately clamped her jaws shut. Abruptly she was once again a woman and Roland was picking her up.

  “Dearest,” he said in jubilant tones. “My dearest.” He pressed excited kisses into her hair. His arms tightened and he strode across to an armchair and sat down with her naked on his lap. “My dearest, dearest girl.”

  Kayla pushed herself away from him. “Let me go,” she said crossly. She scrambled backwards off his lap, trying to ignore his huge love rod and her burning, throbbing sex. “What the heck is going on?” She dashed to the bathroom and water ran and the toilet flushed. She emerged from the bathroom dressed in the black silk robe she had found behind the door. She turned the sleeves back, but they still swallowed her arms and the hem reached her ankles.

  Roland stood up and smiled at her. “Kayla,” he said grandly. “You are magnificent.”

  “I’m magnificent?” she yelled back. “Magnificent my left foot. How the heck did you become a lizard and me too? Just to be starting with.”

  He shrugged his bulging shoulders carelessly. The red 3D tattoo on his chest rippled as he folded his mighty arms across it. “I am a dragon lord,” he announced as grandly as if he were drunk. “You are my mate. When we bonded, I revealed myself to you and you to me.”

  Kayla folded her arms across her breasts and backed up several steps. “One of us,” she said clearly and distinctly, “Is nuts. And I don’t think it’s me.”

  Roland stalked her on long, bare, hairless legs. His penis was an engorged spike threatening her. He grabbed Kayla by her waist and lifted her high above his head. “You are mine,” he growled and kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth and claiming her.

  Fool that she was, she was kissing him back before she remembered the pain and the little fact that she didn’t want to be a dragon — of any kind. She began to struggle so hard he let her go.

  Roland bowed to her. “Will you honor me with your hand and heart?” he asked formally — as if he wasn’t stark naked and waving a tent pole in her face. As if this whole situation wasn’t madness.

  “I want an explanation, Voros.” Kayla stamped her foot.

  Roland glared at her. “You were a virgin. When we made love, you turned. That means that you are my destined mate.” His voice strengthened and grew more hypnotic with every phrase. “I am Lord Voros of Tarakona and Dreki. You will be my Baroness. Together we will restore the fortunes of my House.” He said it as if she had won the lottery instead of been turned into a reptile.

  This time she backed right up to the windows and stood there shaking, pressed up hard against the glass. “No,” she said in a whisper. She swallowed. “No,” she said more loudly. “Nothing doing.”

  “It’s too late.” There was a shrug in that victorious voice. “You are mine by right of capture,” he told her as if that settled everything.

  “Hold it right there, bud,” she shot back. “I. Am. Not. Yours.” She looked at the beside clock. “Eight hours ago I was only suitable to be your mistress. And now I’m yours? By right of fricking capture? Forgive me, if I decline your less than gracious offer.”

  Roland appeared nonplussed. Clearly he had expected ecstasy and gratitude — not an argument. “I will fulfill your every desire,” he assured her loftily. “As my Baroness you will have whatever you want.” He paused in thought. “Your own laboratory,” he offered.

  “You’re crazy,” she said. “Absolutely crazy. I’m going to put my clothes on and you are going to take me to my uncle’s farm. Right now. This minute.”

  “Kayla, I cannot let you go. Even now you may well be ripening with my son and heir. I am a dragon lord and only a dragoness can bear my child. Fate has brought us together. You are my mate and I cannot let you go. Resign yourself. You are the destined wife of Lord Voros.”

  “Don’t I have any say in this, your highness?” she shot back furiously. “Just what part of ‘No’ don’t you understand? I want you to reverse this whole dragoness thing because I want no part of it.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You’re not listening to me,” Kayla stamped her foot again. “Will you pay attention?”

  Roland approached his little mate more cautiously this time. Her scent alone drew him into her orbit and he had no intention of ever letting her go. Since her transformation, she was even more ravishing than she had been before. Besides, she had no choice. She was a dragoness made. And she was his prize. He would relinquish his mate to no one — for no reason whatsoever.

  Never in the history of dragons had there ever been a virgin as stubborn as his delicious, curvy little bride. She stood toe to toe with him scolding and refusing to listen to his proposal of marriage. Did she not realize her immense good fortune? How many thousands of women had laid traps for him since he was a stripling barely needing his own razor? Kayla had caught the gold ring. Why was she so foolishly rejecting it? Him!

  “Oh, go and put some clothes on,” she snapped. Her scornful hazel eyes raked his nakedness and her lips curled. “This is no time to be thinking about sex.”

  Now there she was entirely wrong. Thinking about sex was all he could do in her presence. His craving had been bad enough before, but now he had had her, his lusts were a thousand times stronger. He ignored her order and glided across the bedroom to where she was huddled against the glass slider. He pressed both hands into the window above her head and leaned over so she was caged by his bare chest, muscular biceps and deep armpits.

  “You are my mate,” he rasped. “Mine.” His mouth claimed hers. If she did not know she was his property yet, he would establish his right in the time-hallowed manner.

  Of course, Kayla went up in flames the moment he placed his lips over hers. He would teach her that all that mattered was the scorching passion that erupted between them at the slightest touch. He growled assertions of ownership as she fought him for mastery of that deep soul kiss. She was his and she would learn soon enough to please him.

  Because by all the ancient laws of dragons, she was his. His woman. His dragoness. He owed her the pleasures of his eager body. He existed to delight her. And delight her he would. The soft mounds of her breasts flattened slightly as he pulled her hard into his chest. The heat from his tattoo burned deep into his heart as her puckered nipple pressed into it.

  He hoisted her so he could find her breasts. The distended aureoles were crimson with excitement, and he dragged them each in turn into the hot, wet cavity of his ravenous mouth and swirled his tongue around them until she writhed damply against him. He moved her mound against his dripping sword and had some small relief from his agony. But she was not yet won.

  Her legs found his narrow waist and latched themselves in place. He felt the ankles lock and grabbed her soft and plushy lower globes and spread her dewy crack wide. He traced it with probing, demanding fingertips. She was already so juicy and wet he could have taken her standing, but he muscled his way back to the bed and flung her down onto the ripped duvet.

  Tiny plumes of down clung lovingly to her flushed, perspiration dampened skin. But she would not let go of him. Her grasping thighs pulled him down on top of her. If that was what she wanted. Fine. He explored the satiny undersides of her bountiful and sensitive breasts, a stroke here, a lap there, a kiss on one straining red nipple and she exploded — as he had known she would. Her legs relaxed and he escaped.

  He backed off slightly and spread her wide so he could look his fill.
Swollen pink flesh, slick with his cum and her own cream was fringed by curling black hair. Nothing had ever been so perfect to his eyes. He bent and claimed her sweetest, spiciest flesh with his mouth. And woke his little dragoness who bucked and lunged in her futile attempt to evade his plundering mouth.

  A thousand generations of Viking raiders and dragon lords stood at his back and ordered him to conquer this ripe damsel. His ancestors urged him to brand her — heart and body and soul. He obeyed their relentless commands and continued his pleasuring of her virginal flesh. This was his prize — his and no dragon else’s.

  He used his teeth on her soft, wet core. And even before he had lapped and nuzzled and sucked up all her molten sweetness, he drew another shrieking orgasm from her hesitant trembling body. She tried to draw her quaking limbs together to exclude him from her oversensitized flesh, but he would not permit her to escape the merciless lash of his tongue. Again and yet again he forced pleasure on her, until he could wait no longer to sate his own relentless desires.

  He thrust into her and drew her face to his so she could taste herself on his mouth. “Mine,” he ground against her lips. “Mine.” With a shout of triumph, he filled her with another load of dragon semen.

  The sun woke her. Her squirming woke him. He held her close and mumbled, “Be still,” into her hair. His delicious bride was insatiable.

  She slammed her fists into his ears. “Let me up,” she demanded.

  Roland’s ears rang and he rolled aside. She jumped up at once and found the discarded bathrobe on the floor. He heard the snick of the key in the bathroom lock and laughed up at the sunlight dancing on the bedroom ceiling. He folded his arms behind his head, confident that this morning would find his darling more amenable.

  * * *

  Kayla’s face was red with beard burn. She hadn’t even noticed Roland’s beard before, he was always so sleek and smooth. But his stubble had chafed her face raw. She splashed water on it to try to cool it off. He had made love to her again without a condom. The bastard wanted to knock her up. She clutched her hair and tried to think but her mind felt bleary.

  A hot shower helped a bit, but brought every ache and pain in her much abused body to her attention. She was a mass of purple love bites and she throbbed between her legs as if he had used his teeth as well as the biggest sausage she ever hoped to see. Which the bastard had. He had held her down and ravished her while insisting she was his.

  And what had he done to her breast? On the soft upper slope of her right breast was a dark mark that looked like the lumpy red tattoo on his left pec. The washcloth did not remove it. She touched it gingerly but even though it was hot, it didn’t hurt. It just looked like a pale stencil of his mark. Weird.

  Weirder than him turning her into a dragon and claiming to be a dragon lord? No, not weirder than that. Had she dreamed the entire episode? She concentrated and her face melted and in the mirror a scaly maroon colored head took shape. Jesus. She concentrated on remaining a woman and to her relief the scales retracted and her wet black curls and scraped face reappeared.

  There was proof, if she needed it, that there were much worse things than a bad hair day. She rummaged through the drawers until she found a toothbrush wrapped in plastic and toothpaste. She cleaned her teeth and concentrated on remembering that Roland Voros was a dragon and an arrogant, insensitive asshole. Not marriage material. Just the stuff of nightmares.

  She was pulling the worst of the tangles out of her hair with her fingers when she realized that she could see herself clearly in the mirror. She could see both her dimples. The faint green ring around both hazel irises. The tiny gold flecks that lurked there. She grabbed the bottle of hand lotion and read the back label. She could see even the tiny print. All without her glasses. Not since she had had her first pair at six had she gone ten steps without them. Underwater she had to wear her special goggles if she wanted to see.

  What the heck had happened to her to fix her nearsightedness?

  By the time she drew on Roland’s bathrobe and opened the bathroom door she felt fortified against his dubious charms. He was standing naked in front of the windows, his enormous morning erection bobbing in the sunlight. The bedroom was a wreck. Down dusted the hardwood. The sheets were pulled off the mattress and sported savage rips and tears.

  And instead of looking mortified, Voros was posing against the windows waving his cock at her. Men. She marched into the hall and went to look for her overnight bag and a change of clothes.

  * * *

  She was still mad. Go figure. He had hoped she would want to play. Maybe if he fed her? Kayla had a hearty appetite and breakfast was sounding better the more he thought about it. The kitchen was supposed to be stocked with food, and he thought food would mellow his disgruntled mate.

  Despite her wrath, he felt euphoric. He had achieved the impossible. He had found a virgin who delighted him in and out of bed, and he had transformed her. The House of Voros would have heirs aplenty and his dynasty would continue. Was this the meaning of old Te Kanewa’s words? Or was he going to have to explain why he could not accept one of the chieftain’s precious granddaughters? But even that awkwardness could not dull his sense of victory.

  He examined the damned Maori tattoo in the mirror. The puffiness was almost gone, but a bright rim of red around the black lines glowed like live coals against his pale skin. He touched it. Yup, it still felt as hot and sore as if the chisel had sliced straight down into his heart. He had a quick shower and a quicker shave. As he wrapped a towel around his loins, he hoped that Kayla had started breakfast.

  She was wearing jeans and one of her ancient men’s tee-shirts. The sooner he had the dressing of her, the better. He wanted to see her in feminine clothes that flattered rather than concealed her lush beauty. She was frying bacon but she looked up from the pan to glare at him.

  “I hope you’re making lots,” he said cheerfully. “I could eat a small village.”

  Another glare. “I’ve used half the pound. There’ll be eggs in a minute. Make some toast.”

  He found a loaf in a paper bag and a cutting board and knife on the counter. Soon he had four slices arranged in the toaster. “Should I get it started?”

  “Lay the table,” she said impatiently. “Wait until I’ve started the eggs or it will get cold.”

  He tamely did as he was told. She would forget she was angry after she had eaten. He was going to enjoy his delectable dragoness as soon as she had cooled off.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “First off, I’m not impressed with your decision to marry me — not after you asked me to be your mistress like I was some kind of whore.” Kayla lowered her upraised forefinger gave Roland a filthy look and moved on to the next digit. “Second, I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. A. Reptile. It’s creepy and disgusting. I don’t know how you did it, but I want you to change me back.”

  Roland’s face was white and stiff. He was clearly holding on to his temper by a hair. Good. It was about time the bastard took her seriously.

  “Transformation is irreversible,” he informed her curtly. “There exists no magic to reverse the process. You are now and forever a dragoness.” He paused and looked at her with hot eyes. “My dragoness,” he said deliberately.

  “And you didn’t think you could have mentioned that it was a possibility — before you screwed me?” Kayla demanded in a roar. Flames licked her lips and she closed them hastily.

  Roland’s huge body loomed over her. His hands were on his hips. “I don’t go around telling the world that I am a dragon shifter,” he said icily. “That information is privileged and private.”

  “I am not the world — I’m the woman you’ve been seducing for a month,” she interrupted furiously.

  “A woman in her twenties in New Zealand is not very likely to be a virgin,” Roland defended the indefensible. “Look at those roommates of yours.”

  “I am not my roommates. And given the outcome, you damn well should have asked,” her voice rose still further in vo
lume. Where the heck had this lung capacity come from?

  He was ice to her fire. “If I had asked and you had told me you were a virgin, I would have claimed you that same instant, Kayla Cooper.” His big hands gripped her shoulders and his breath touched her face as he spoke. “You are mine. And I will not let you go.” He kissed her hard, and her anger evaporated in the euphoria of being in his arms.

  His tongue tangled with hers and caressed the hidden, needy recesses of her mouth. He bit a string of love kisses down the side of her neck to where it met her shoulder. He sucked hard and her panties soaked and she found herself grinding her hips into his. Delight shattered her and she forgot her grievances in the excitement of his touch.

  She floated back up from a series of delicious orgasms to find herself naked on the couch with an equally naked Roland crouched above her observing her reactions. She put out a hesitant hand to touch the side of his sculpted face. He took her fingers into his mouth and sucked. Her pussy spasmed just from the suggestive gesture.

  One long hand caressed her softest flesh, delicately probing for her secrets. His thumb pressed her clit and her hips moved restlessly. “You see,” he told her triumphantly. “You are mine. Mine.” He slid down her damp body and thrust his cock between her swollen labia. “Mine.” He began to move within her, punctuating his thrusts with growled possessive words. “Only mine. I am your Lord, and you belong to me.”

  This time he collapsed on her exhausted, satiated body, trapping her. Kayla lay beneath him, unwillingly enjoying the heavy press of his big, hot, hard body. Her heart ached. Her body ached. She longed to surrender to him. It was tempting to give in to his demands. He was rich beyond her wildest dreams. He was a generous and demanding lover. She had zip experience, but they seemed well matched in bed.