by Celia Kyle
“Fuck me, you’re bright, aren’t you?” he threw back, making no attempt to be pleasant. “You know what people who’ve pissed off a dragon would tell you?”
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“Fuck all. They’re dead.” He grinned, nicely, not even showing all his teeth despite his dragon’s best effort to push his fangs free.
River shoved him hard in the back. “Taron, darling, stop pretending you’ll eat Theresa. You can’t... until I tell you that you can.”
Chapter Four
River would really like Taron to eat her half-sister and not in a happy fun times way. That type of eating was reserved for River. Assuming he wanted to, of course. Because she sure as hell wanted to climb him like a tree and lick him from head to toe. Her pussy throbbed with unfulfilled desire, sex lips slick with her wetness. Her clit pulsed and ached, silently begging to be stroked and touched.
The kiss stoked the fires of her need and then he’d teased her pussy, stroking her cloth-covered mound before dipping beneath the elastic to find her damp center.
And dear God, he was all heavily carved muscles and fierce strength. He’d held her like she weighed nothing and she’d never felt more secure, more protected, in her life.
Then, if his teasing touch hadn’t been enough, he’d busted out his scales.
Now she really wanted to lick him, to discover if his skin and scales tasted the same or if they felt any different than his flesh. There’d been a sting on her hip just before he’d released her—his claws—and she wondered what it’d feel like to have them scrape more than just her hips.
My breasts… my ass… my pussy.
She shuddered, a wave of craving washing over her. On its heels was another punch of anger at Theresa. That passionate kiss wouldn’t have been the end of their coming together. She had no doubt it would have continued, moving from the entryway, down the hallway and on to her bedroom.
Her bedroom that they’d share for the next year as pretend husband and wife.
A rush of cold water blanketed her, crushing her simmering arousal. Pretend husband and wife. Pretend.
Had he been pretending when he shoved his tongue down her throat? Maybe he’d heard Theresa’s approach with his super-dragon hearing and that was why he wrapped his arms around her, why his talented fingers skated over her skin and aroused her.
Had it all been a game of “let’s fool the human”?
“Are you listening to me?” Theresa’s snapping voice brought River from her musings and back to the problem at hand. The problem of getting her half-sister out of her condo without bloodshed.
Because, really, she wasn’t sure Taron had been kidding.
“No, actually, I wasn’t.” River picked at a piece of lint on her skirt, ignoring the other woman simply because Theresa hated it.
Yes, she was that petty.
“When you have something worth hearing,” she smoothed the wrinkled fabric. They’d retreated to the living room and she ignored the fact that her bare skin from behind the knee to upper thigh rested on her leather couch. The surface was a cold shock and now it slowly warmed to her body heat.
They’d really gotten hot and heavy, cloth tearing as he’d fought to gain access to her pussy. He couldn’t have been playing a game when he’d been that frantic, right?
“River,” another snap from Theresa. “Pay attention.”
Taron tensed at her side, the stiffening barely perceptible. No more than a hardening of the muscles of his leg against hers and the squeeze of his hand on her shoulder. A deep vibration traveled from him to her and she realized he was growling. Low enough not to be heard by human ears, but there was no missing the trembles sliding through her body.
River didn’t hesitate to lay her hand on his thigh and gave him a gentle stroke.
Of course that earned a sneer from Theresa. “I can’t believe you’re playing this stupid game, River.”
She held onto her temper—barely. “It’s not a game. I’m getting married in three days to Taron.”
Her half-sister wrinkled her nose, flicking a distasteful glance over the man at her side. “He looks nice enough to fuck, but we both know he’s not the type of man to marry you.”
“Because I’m a bastard?”
She sniffed. “Among other things.”
The growl became audible, sliding through the air, and Theresa didn’t have the sense to keep quiet.
“No one wants to hear from the window dressing.”
Oh dear God, Theresa really was gonna die. River might not have made the smartest decisions in her life, but she did read about shifters and knew males didn’t take disrespect well. Or rather, at all. Even the weakest of the men was twice as strong as a human and four times as proud.
Disrespect? Not acceptable.
“Theresa, get to the point.”
Her sister sighed. “I’m simply saying we both know this is some big joke. I came over as soon as I heard you’d moved this,” Theresa looked Taron up and down. “This thing into your condo.”
“And how, pray tell, did you find out I’d moved in?” The words escaped Taron in a low rumble. Was that smoke leaving his lips?
“Darling, you really should be silent. Just sit there and be pretty.”
Pretty? How about drop-dead gorgeous. Lickable. Nibbleable. Fuckable.
“How?” Apparently Taron was like a dragon with a bone.
“The doorman, if you must know. He’ll be fired for taking a bribe, of course, but he was useful.” Theresa’s gaze raked Taron once more. For a woman who sneered at the dragon, she sure enjoyed looking at him. And that knowledge nearly had River growling. “Back to the issue at hand.” Her sister slowly refocused on River. “Enough is enough. You tried to find someone willing to marry and apparently you found someone desperate enough to tie themselves to even you. But we both know it’s a sham.”
“It’s not a sham.”
It so was a sham.
“I have reports from a private detective that assure me you only met him two days ago.” Theresa dug in her purse, tugged out a folder and then tossed it onto the table. “You didn’t seriously think you wouldn’t be watched, did you? Ever since father died, we’ve tracked you.”
“We?” River reached for the pictures that’d spilled out across the smooth surface. She flicked through them one-by-one. The grocery store. The gym downstairs—a girl had to stay healthy, curves or not. The salon… the restaurant with Taron.
“Your existence threatens the status quo, River.”
She tossed the pictures down. So what if they’d had her followed? It didn’t change the fact that she’d marry Taron. She hoped. What if he changed his mind after being faced with her sister? God, was the rest of the clan coming, too?
“I’ve always existed, Theresa.” Even if they all hated she was born. “I’m over thirty and I’ve always been in Browning’s life.” Browning, not daddy. Never daddy. “So the family’s sudden interest is touching, though greatly delayed.”
Her sister’s eyes were suddenly filled with fury. “We don’t give a damn about you, only the money. It’s ours and you’re some upstart bitch trying to take it from us by associating with this person.”
“Upstart?” River jumped to her feet. She was a lot of things, but an upstart? Someone trying to get over on the family? “I worked for Browning from the moment I turned sixteen until the day he died. I ran the company while he was sick and I will run this company until I die.”
On bad days she hated it. On good days she despised it. But above all, good or bad, it was hers. Blood, sweat, and more tears than she ever wanted to count. It was hers.
“That,” Theresa glared, “can be arranged.”
River ignored the implicit threat. It wasn’t the first. She doubted it’d be the last. Even after she married Taron, she was sure they’d continue to give her shit. “Taron isn’t only a person, he’s not human, he’s a shifter. Watch what you say around him.”
“Or. What?�
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“Or,” Taron drawled and slowly rose until he towered over both of them, his presence imposing. While River was comforted by his obvious strength, it seemed to frighten Theresa based on the sudden trembling of her sister’s body. “I can take you to the top of the nearest mountain and leave you there.”
“You can’t,” Theresa’s eyes were wide. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever the hell I want and no one can stop me.”
“I’m a Boston Browning. You can’t just take one of us and—”
“Lady, I don’t have this stripe of white in my hair because I’m a fucking boy scout. I got it because my dragon and I have a certain affinity for the dark side.”
That had River swallowing hard right along with Theresa.
Affinity for the dark side? Shit, she really should have asked Maddox or Mari about the bit of pale hair.
A small tremble shook Theresa’s form and River had no doubt her sister was terrified. Good, right? Right. Maybe she’d believe that if she repeated it a time or one hundred.
“Keep the pictures. I have copies.” Her sister placed the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “You need to forget this little arrangement you have with this person, River. That company belongs to the Brownings—the true Brownings. Not in the hands of some bastard throwaway kid who only exists because a condom broke.”
“Enough!” Taron’s bellow bounced off the walls. “You have two seconds to get the fuck away from my true mate or I’ll eat you for fucking dinner.”
The words were scary, but the blast of fire that left his lips…yeah, that was even scarier.
Then Theresa ran, Taron chased her, and River was left wheezing in the living room, mind spinning.
True mate?
Her heart thundered and threatened to burst from her chest.
True mate?
No way. No. Way.
That was taking things too far, as far as River was concerned. She wanted a faux fiancé and pretend husband. She hadn’t mentioned true mates and…
Her throat burned. And she didn’t expect the emotions that came with his words. Parts of her wanted his declaration to be true. The parts that cradled feelings for him and held them close. Not her desire—though she had that in spades—but beyond that. Beyond sex and into... Into something very close to deep emotion. Like, mate-ly emotions. Or at least, boyfriend-ish with a leaning toward forever feelings.
But… but she was paying him to be hers, right? So it wasn’t real. It was a game taken a step too far and now her heart clenched with the memory of those words.
“You have two seconds to get the fuck away from my true mate or I’ll eat you for fucking dinner.”
She wouldn’t mind him eating her half-sister for dinner, but the true mate claim…
River retreated to her bedroom and snatched the home phone from the cradle. She dialed her friend’s number from memory.
The phone rang once, then twice, and then a panting Mari answered the phone.
“He—” Gasp. “—llo?”
Any other time, River would tease her, but now wasn’t the time for jokes. "How much did you pay him to say he's my true mate and why would you fuck with me that way?"
Chapter Five
Taron knew human women were bitchy, but he’d never seen it up close and personal. He hadn’t appreciated how lethally directed that bitchiness could be, and what sort of devastation it could cause. Not until he’d seen how River’s sister wielded words to hurt her. He’d scented his mate’s distress on the air and seen red. The disrespect toward him didn’t bother him, centuries of scorn left him immune, but to treat River that way… To threaten her life then say she should never have been born.
No fucking way was he letting that stand. Neither him nor his dragon.
For a human, Theresa sure could run when she needed to. Over two hundred pounds of pissed of male dragon had that effect, and he hadn’t even changed form yet. She made it out the front door before he could grab her, so he shifted his throat just enough to send a burst of flame after her and then slammed the door shut.
Anger and resentment of the Boston Brownings rolled through him as he stormed back into the living room to find…
Nothing.
The room was empty.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” he hissed, stomping through the room as he followed River’s scent. Her distress was a taste that coated the back of his throat, the scent leaving a trail through the apartment a mile wide for him to follow. A curl of smoke escaped his lips as he snarled. Pity the bitch was fast, he’d have happily roasted her and hauled her crispy carcass back inside to show his mate.
"How much did you pay him to say he's my true mate and why would you fuck with me that way?"
The anguish in River’s voice stopped him cold. The words halted him in his tracks. Shit, had he said that? That she was his true mate? Oh hell, he had. And of all he’d said, she had to latch onto that detail. The one little thing he hadn’t wanted her to discover yet. Not until he’d gotten under her guard and claimed the treasure of her heart for his own.
Sure, she might be his true mate but she was human. Which meant she could walk away anytime she chose, leaving him bound to her eternally but unable to do jackshit about it. Once a dragon found his mate that was it. One woman, for eternity.
And his only wanted him for a year.
Running a hand through his hair, he thought fast. He needed a plan. Something. Anything.
His dragon took over and shoved him through the door to meet her spear-like gaze. Plans were for pussies.
“True mate?” she whispered.
He gave her a long and hard look, daring her to argue with him. “Yeah. And? You got a problem with that?”
She pressed a button on the phone and slid from the bed, dropping the device as she padded toward him. She stood in front of him, all pretty curves and softness. That alone took courage, especially with the smoke of his dragon’s anger swirling around him.
“Careful, River,” he warned as she reached for him, his voice low with the beast inside. The beast who ached to claim her as his own. And he wasn’t only talking about his dragon. His human side was just as dangerous, perhaps more so. “You need to give me time to calm down, or we play this my way.”
Her hand stopped mid-way to his chest, her eyes wide and dark. With fear or excitement, he couldn’t tell, not with his senses all keyed into anger and darkness. Their gazes locked, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak, the need to tumble her to the bed and take what he wanted almost overwhelming him. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t. She was his true mate but she wasn’t his yet. Only an asshole just took, and while Taron knew he could be a dick, he wasn’t an asshole.
“True mate?” Her hand moved. Brushed his chest.
He felt the burn of her touch right through his clothing and into his soul. Heat flared out from within and his tank top was history, burnt to a cinder as his scales rippled over his skin. An accident, honestly...nothing to do with the fact he wanted nothing between her touch and his skin.
“Yes,” he snarled. Confirming his words once more. “Mine. Forever.”
She jumped, but didn’t move her hand. Drawn by a force greater than himself, he edged closer. This near, he realized how tiny she was. Her head barely reached his shoulder. Reaching out a finger, he tucked it under her chin and made her look up at him.
“You want to play this my way, River?” He couldn’t help the deepness of his dragon in his voice or the smoke that curled around them. The stuff seeped off his pores to wrap around her, his feral nature trying to ensnare her any way it could.
“Because if you don’t stop touching me right now, I’m going to lay you down on this bed until not just your neighbors but this entire block knows my name. Are we clear?”
Her eyes widened even farther and she swallowed. Her hand trembled and her dark eyes filled with a shy heat that almost brought him to his knees. “Yes. Just—”
“No ‘justs’...” he couldn’t h
elp the small snarl as he grabbed her hand and held it captive as he lifted it from his chest. How was a man supposed to focus with her touching him like that? “Whether we end up on that bed now or later, we will get there. You’re mine, River. Deal with it.”
It was a douche-bag comment and he knew it, but right now he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. All he thought about was tumbling her back on the soft surface behind her and finishing what they’d started in the hall.
She tugged on his hand and he thought she was trying to get away from him. With a snarl he yanked her closer, letting go of her hand to drive his into her hair. His lips crashed down over hers and he kissed her like there was no tomorrow. He’d put everything he had into it to sway her into accepting him before she could think and push him away. Need and passion rode him hard and he swept his tongue against the closed seams of her lips. A demand for her submission...before he lost his mind.
Her hands spread over his chest and he sucked in a breath. She didn’t push him away, though. Instead, she touched him. Stroked those soft little hands over his shoulders in exploration. Her lips parted and he sank between them with a groan. She tasted of sin and seduction—every wet dream he’d ever had combined with a happily ever after he’d never thought would be his.
Her whimper was lost under his lips. His hands smoothed down her lush figure, worshipping her curves as he slid his tongue deep to tangle with hers. Her little moans and wriggles would drive him insane. He needed more. Much more.
Lips still on hers, he walked her backward until her legs hit the side of the bed. Holding her close, he tumbled them both to the soft surface. A twist controlled the fall and ensured she sprawled over his body.
“Fuck...you feel fantastic,” he groaned, spreading his hands over her luscious hips as she straddled him. As if sensing the heat of her pussy so close, his hips thrust upward, grinding his hard cock against her mound. “Feel that, baby girl? Feel what you do to me?”
He lay back on the bed and looked up at her. How the fuck had he gotten so lucky? She was absolutely gorgeous. Dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and her lips were full and pouty, swollen from his kisses. His attention headed down and his cock jerked savagely.