Enchanted By Fire (Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society Book 3)

by Meg Ripley

  "Did Greyson…" she trailed off, unable to even ask the question that burned in her throat.

  "Yes," Arach replied carefully.

  A botched break-in, the police had called it. Aurora and her mother had come home to Lee in a pool of his own blood in the living room, the cards for the speech he was working on spread on the marble floor around him. Aurora remembered dropping to her knees beside him and dragging her father's head into her lap. He looked up at her with terror in his eyes, his face streaked with blood, and took her face in his hand. Greyson, he had whispered. Aurora had reaffirmed her promise to him then, committing herself unknowingly to her father's murderer.

  "Arach?" a voice from the doorway broke through the tense moment between them.

  "Yes?" Arach said to the young man standing just outside the doorway.

  "They are coming."

  Arach nodded and the man ran away. He lifted her off his lap and placed her on the bed beside him, immediately starting to button his shirt again.

  "Who's coming?" Aurora asked.

  Arach didn't answer, but stood and started toward the door. Aurora chased after him, following him out of the room and into a cold stone hallway.

  "Aurora, go back in there," he demanded, not stopping, but glancing briefly over at her.

  "Who's coming?" Aurora repeated.

  She had to run to keep up with his long strides and the stone floor felt rough beneath her feet.

  "Go back."

  Aurora reached out and grabbed onto Arach, yanking him to a stop and shoving him back against the wall to the hallway. She was nearly a foot shorter than him, but she looked up at him without intimidation.

  "I have had enough of men telling me what to do in the last few months. Today has truly been the wedding day from hell. At least, I think it is still today. I honestly have completely lost track. I'm still standing here in my fucking wedding dress after finding out that the man I very nearly married murdered my father. So, stop telling me to go back and instead try telling me what the hell is going on."

  Arach looked startled and took her carefully by the shoulders to guide her a few steps back from him.

  "My clan took your father's murder as an act of war. That is why I connected with you when I did. I needed to bring you to me before the fighting began."

  "You connected with me on purpose?"

  "Of course. When a dragon has a human mate, he has the ability to connect with her in her dreams so he can spend time with her without being near other humans."

  "So, those dreams were real?"

  "They were both dreams and real."

  Aurora decided it was futile to try to understand any further.

  "Who's coming, Arach?"

  "The rogues did not take my removing you from your wedding well. They have made it known that they take it as a sign of aggression and are coming to take you back."

  Arach started walking again and Aurora chased him.

  "Greyson?"

  "Yes."

  "How did he explain you to the guests?"

  Arach led her through a massive wooden door into a room filled with weapons. He reached up and pulled a heavy-looking sword from the wall.

  "People only see what they think they should. By tomorrow it will have all been explained away and only those who already knew about us will have any idea that they saw dragons."

  Suddenly Aurora heard screams from outside. Arach muttered an obscenity and pushed past her through another door. Without a second thought, Aurora wrapped her hand around a crossbow and followed him.

  ****

  Outside, a brilliant sunset was dying behind the horizon, sending tendrils of deep purple across the sky. Aurora looked around and saw dragons at every side. She heard another scream and took off running in the direction of the sound. As she ran, the terrain became more familiar. Soon she found herself in the forest where she had walked in her first dream.

  She ran until she came to the edge of the woods and saw a group of men slashing with knives at a dragon far smaller than Arach. The dragon made another of the screaming sounds and sent a weak stream of fire toward the men. Aurora didn't understand why the other dragons hadn't come. She started running again and as she approached the group she saw Arach rise out of the water and knock several of the men to the ground with his claw.

  To his side a man pulled a long sword from a sheath at his hip and raised it above his head. She immediately recognized him.

  "Greyson!" she called, stopping a few yards away.

  Greyson turned sharply and before he could say anything, Aurora lifted the crossbow and let the arrow fly. The sharp metal tip burrowed through his throat, tattering the skin as he collapsed to the ground. Everything went silent around her. The other men fell to the ground one by one, torn and burned. Within seconds, the battle was over. She dropped the crossbow to her feet and walked toward Greyson's body.

  Blood poured from the wound in his throat and he stared with blank eyes up at the sky. Sickness rolled through her as she looked at him, not because of the blood or even because he had died at her hand, but because of the trust he had so horrifically betrayed.

  No longer in dragon form, Arach walked toward her and gathered her in his arms. She hugged him back, burying her face in his chest.

  "Are you real?" she asked into his shirt.

  Arach pushed her back gently.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Was I really made for you?"

  "Yes," Arach repeated.

  "Prove it to me."

  Before she knew what was happening, Arach had shifted and she was on his back, riding him over the trees back toward the house. The dragons that had swarmed the area when she first emerged were gone. She would later learn about their rules of battle and why they had stayed behind while Arach and the other dragon fought. For now, all she cared about was him.

  Arach landed just outside the massive stone house and waited until she slid from his back to shift back into human form. He took her hand and led her along another stone hallway back to the bedroom. She noticed that the walls of the hallway featured swathes of purple velvet, a sign of royalty.

  When they reached the bedroom, Arach swept Aurora into his arms so he cradled her against his chest as he walked toward the bed. He set her on her feet at the edge of the bed and she felt his hands come to the back of her gown. The corseting strings released and he peeled the dress away from her body, letting it fall to the floor at her feet. She wore only white satin panties beneath and he lowered himself to his knees in front of her so that he could draw the damp cloth down her thighs and guide them off her feet.

  Taking her hips in his hands, Arach dipped his head forward and used his tongue to mimic the skilled movements of his hand the first time she had seen him in human form. The tip focused intensely on the swollen pearl of flesh at her peak and Aurora tossed her head back to let out a cry of pleasure. Stopping just short of her completion, Arach climbed back to his feet and undressed, tossing his clothes aside. Aurora drank in the beauty of his naked body in front of her. She reached for his erection and wrapped her hand eagerly around it.

  Arach drew in a sharp breath and Aurora took the sound as encouragement to continue. Still stroking him, she knelt in front of him and let her tongue slip past her lips so that the tip of his penis stroked across it with each long glide of her hand. He let her continue this way for a few strokes, then took her by her shoulders and brought her to her feet.

  Aurora complied willingly with his hands as he led her onto the bed and turned her body so her head rested on the pillows. He climbed up toward her and she could see the dragon in the power of his movements. Bringing his lips to hers, Arach stretched his body over hers so they touched from their chests to their toes. Aurora put everything into her kiss, letting him coax her further and further into her overpowering desire for him.

  She drew her thighs apart beneath his, causing him to settle between them and the tip of his erection to touch her opening. The sensation made her gasp and sh
e looked into his eyes, holding his gaze as he pushed slowly forward, sinking deeply into her until his hipbones rested against her and her body felt full and fulfilled. She pulled the leather strap from his hair, releasing the silken strands so they fell around his face and onto his shoulder blades.

  Aurora buried her fingers in his hair and brought his mouth back down to hers. She flicked the tip of her tongue against the inside of his bottom lip, encouraging him. His hips rolled against her and she whimpered, relaxing against the feeling to let her hips open further to him. Each long, deep stroke massaged her and she used her hands on his lower back to guide him into a faster rhythm. As he thrust into her she could hear growls of pleasure in his throat.

  Sweat beaded on his skin and Aurora lifted her head to lick the drops off his shoulder before bringing her mouth close to his ear.

  "Let go," she whispered.

  Arach released the sounds from his throat and started moving at a faster pace, each stroke hard enough to elicit a cry. Aurora felt herself spiraling out of control and just as her body contracted around him, Arach gave a final, intense thrust and groaned loudly. She could feel him pulsing within her, spilling hot stream into her body as her tremors milked him.

  Aurora kissed along his shoulder as he dropped down onto her and tucked his head in the curve of her neck. War was coming. She knew it. All that mattered to her in that moment, though, was his heartbeat against hers and knowing that when sleep overtook her, she would remain in his arms, just where she was made to be.

  THE END

  Bearer Of Secrets

  I woke up from a terrible dream only to realize that it was real -- my friend Dean, this impossibly hot shifter cowboy, is the only man I know who can understand what I'm going through. He's the only person I know who will help me escape this nightmare. I need him now more than I would have ever imagined.

  Marisol

  Being the daughter of a bullfighter and a former rodeo queen, I’ve seen thousands of cowboys come and go, but I’ve never laid eyes on any man as expertly skilled—or as sexy—as Dean Longstrider.

  Little did I know that over the summer, I’d discover an unexpected and dangerous side of myself—and Dean is the only person I know that I can turn to for help.

  Dean

  Being in this business sure comes with its perks. I have more offers from ladies than I know what to do with, but thing is, none of that matters to me—I have my eye on one woman and one woman alone: Marisol. She’s a great girl, and God, when I think about what I could do with those curves...it’s enough to drive a man—or werebear—buck wild.

  When Marisol told me she was in trouble this summer, I swore to do whatever it would take to keep her safe, to protect what’s mine, even if it costs me the championship—or more...

  “And now, the ride you’ve all been waiting for. The final ride of the night, and folks, this is for all of the proverbial marbles, and I ain’t kidding. Now this young man, Dean Longstrider, he’s got a lot on this ride. He had the highest score on Thursday night. He had the highest score on Saturday night, and folks, if he gets a score of 92 or better, he’ll win this purse, and this purse is nothing to sneeze at. No sir, it’s not. This purse has been generously doubled by our good sponsors at Franklin’s Chevrolet and it’s up to twenty thousand semolians, and you don’t need me to tell you, that’s a lot of semolians.”

  It was a lot of semolians, especially for an amateur night in Cody, Wyoming.

  Marisol whipped her apron off as the event announcer, Rocky, rattled on, filling the time between the bull riders. “I’ll be right back, Mama! Dean’s about to ride.”

  “Did you clean the range?”

  “Yes, Mama, everything is cleaned and the money box is counted up. I’ll be right back!”

  Marisol flew from her mother’s food truck and under the packed bleachers to the tall fence around the arena. The chute gates were on the opposite side and her heart jumped to her throat as she waited for the sound of the buzzer that would mark the beginning of Dean’s ride. He was going to win the purse. Everybody knew it. Nobody could ride a bull like Dean Longstrider. Not even his uncle Rory, and Rory was a legend on the pro circuit.

  Marisol grew up watching young men risk their necks and their lives on the backs of raging bulls. Her father, Ernesto, was a bull fighter and had been saving the lives of those young men for over twenty years. When she asked him if he’d ever seen anybody sit a bull like Dean, Ernesto had admitted that he couldn’t think of a single cowboy. Her heart had swelled with pride for her friend as she nodded in her head in agreement.

  “He’s the best,” she’d gushed. “I think he’s the greatest I’ve ever seen.”

  “He’s not the best. Not yet. Boy still has a long way to go to prove himself.” At her crestfallen face, Ernesto had added, “But he’ll get there. He’s got the talent, anyway.”

  The gate suddenly crashed open and the giant red bull leapt into the arena. It did a hard twist in mid-air and slammed to the ground with a bone-breaking thud. Its hooves barely hit the dirt before it was dancing again, jumping and twisting and kicking its hind legs out as hard as it could. Dean sat astride the bull with perfect form, his spine straight and left arm extended high over his head.

  “Three...four...five…” Marisol counted under her breath, fingers clutching the chain link fence. Until she started watching Dean, she never understood how long eight seconds truly lasted. But Dean’s grip was strong, and though the bull did its best to fling him away, the buzzer sounded to the sound of the crowd roaring its approval of the ride. Marisol erupted into loud cheers, clapping and shouting Dean’s name with the rest of them.

  She was so excited for Dean that it took her a moment to realize that something wasn’t right. Her father darted out and got hold of the rope around the bull’s girth, but even after the bull stopped kicking, Dean wasn’t jumping free.

  “Uh oh, it looks like our cowboy is in a little bit of trouble. Let’s all give a big cheer or our bull fighter Ernie! Cheer loud and help him get Dean out of there.”

  Marisol swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. The bull kicked around, giving her a view of the left side where Dean’s leg was tangled in the rope. The animal was beyond furious now, ignoring all of Ernie’s attempts to distract it while his partner, Burt, dodged forward to get Dean untangled.

  “Looks like our cowboy is stuck, folks. Give him another cheer! Let him know we’re here for him!” Rocky’s job was to keep talking, keep the crowd upbeat while the professionals got the bull under control, but Marisol wished he would shut up. She’d seen this same thing countless times and she knew as long as her father was in the arena, the cowboys would be safe, but Dean wasn’t like the other cowboys. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t even breathe, until the rope came free and Dean flung himself away from the raging bull.

  The bull fighters moved quickly, Burt putting himself between Dean and the bull, and Ernie acting as human bait, taunting the bull until it charged him. Ernie dove out of the way at the last second, but the bull kept running right on back to its pen.

  “Burt and Ernie, everybody! And let’s give it up for our young cowboy, Dean Longstrider, who just got a score of 94 from our judges. Not only the best ride of the night, this is the best ride of the whole event! He’s one smiling cowboy tonight, folks.”

  Dean took off his hat, walking in a small circle, and waved to the cheering crowd. As he turned towards her, she jumped up and down, waving and cheering. She didn’t think he would see her, but his smile widened and then he was running out of the arena, and Rocky was inviting everybody to remain in their seats for the fireworks show.

  That was Marisol’s signal to return to the food truck where her mother, Anna, was just locking up.

  “Mari, go find your father. His ribs were bothering him all day and he probably needs your help.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  She bolted before the fireworks ended, making it all the way to the pens before the crowd began to disperse. Sh
e didn’t see her father anywhere, but she did spot Dean and his brothers, Ralph and Waldo. Unsurprisingly, he was surrounded by a crowd of fans, pushing for his autograph. “It’s not worth much now,” she heard one of the cowboys say, “but it may be worth a cup of coffee in a few years.”

  Most of the fans were young men—kids dreaming of the day they could climb on top of the biggest, meanest beast they could find—but not all of them. Ralph and Waldo each had their arm around a pretty cowgirl, and as Marisol approached, Dean mimicked them, pulling a statuesque cowgirl close to his side.

  Marisol stopped in her tracks, her mouth going dry. Of course, she knew that there were plenty of girls who made it a habit to get as close to the cowboys as possible. Her mother had names for those girls, and none of them were very nice. It shouldn’t be a surprise to her that Dean got along with those girls. She hesitated, unsure if she should congratulate him as planned or scurry off before he noticed her to find her father.

  Deciding on the latter, she half-turned, but Dean stopped her with a shout, “Hey! Marisol!”

  She turned back to him, unable to stop her smile as he hurried over to her. “Hey, I was just about to come looking for you,” he said, pulling her into a quick hug.

  “I can’t stay, I just wanted to say congratulations. That was a hell of a ride.”

  “Did you see it?”

  “Of course. You know I never miss seeing you ride.”

  “What did you think?”

  Marisol laughed. “I think you won twenty thousand dollars!”

  “Who’s your little friend, Dean?” The blonde took Dean by the arm and smiled down at Marisol.

  “Oh, this is Marisol. She’s Ernie’s daughter and she probably knows more about riding bulls than anybody else around here. Everybody wants to know what my secret is.” He nodded at her, his smile big enough and warm enough to make her forget the interloper for a moment. “Mari, this is Cady. She’s an old friend from way back.”