Open Flame (Dragon's Fate)

by Lacy Danes

  Her body shook with adrenaline and anger. She fisted her hands again, whirled, paced two steps back and pivoted again. She needed assistance controlling her emotions and this… She didn’t even know what to call it.

  “You will figure it all out but only with Madoc’s help,” Carmen’s voice rang.

  She stared at Madoc. The lace at his throat rippled and became transparent. The bite marks she made were as visible to her as if they were completely uncovered. How could that be? Her stomach growled, and her fangs extended.

  She needed to taste him again. Why? Why would she desire such a thing?

  Hudson said she needed to feed. She didn’t need to bite him. Madoc made her tense and jittery. Her body yearned for his to be close, and he stood so far away. Why?

  He pulled her off Jonathan. She had not killed him. If what Carmen said was true, why didn’t he help her if he could?

  “He did help you. Think of what he said. That you need to concentrate on your own feelings to be in control. It may not be easy. You will learn how.” Carmen’s voice faded a bit with each word. “Something is different.” Her voice was barely there. “You are fading.”

  She took two steps back to where she stood before beside the table. Her head grew light, and, with a wave of relief, the pressure in her cheeks disappeared.

  She blew out a tense breath. No fire.

  Her vision darkened and flashed. The room turned gray and white. She shook her head. What was happening to her now?

  Madoc stepped toward her. “Are you well?

  “Do not—” Fever sweats overtook her body as they had in the garden when he’d first bitten her. She furrowed her brow.

  Where was she? In the garden?

  Human again. A smile touched her lips.

  She stepped back and fell into darkness.

  Chapter Six

  Sweat trickled down every crevice of her body. Burning. Flames. They ate her up. Fina tossed to the left, unable to find comfort. She needed something cool. Anything. Her hand twitched, and she jerked it up above her head.

  A touch brushed her forehead and her cheek. Spicy peppers and sweetness overwhelmed her. His scent. Her stomach growled and clenched painfully. Memories flashed of the garden where he’d first bitten her. Then to his room with the pink dress and her first taste of his salty blood. She licked her lips and trembled. Fingers traced her upper lip and lifted it, exposing her teeth and gums.

  Fina slit open her eyes and stared into Madoc’s amber ones. “I am burning up.”

  “Literally. The only thing I can think is we have not finished your transition, and if we don’t, you will die. I had the urge to bite you several times. I started to once, but you knocked me free. Hudson mentioned that when he transitioned to a blood drinker, he had a similar episode, and until he fed his urge, he knew he would die.” Madoc sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his fingers about her hand. “What is your urge, Fina?”

  His pulse beat through his hand into hers. She wanted to taste his blood and make his heart race. She wanted to entwine her fingers with his as they made her nightmares of sweaty skin and passionate futtering come true. How humiliating. How wrong. She shook her head. “No.”

  “If you don’t indulge it, you will die.”

  She swallowed and looked away from him. She wanted to live, and deep down, she wanted to tell him everything about herself. Tears stung her eyes. Her body ached. Weakened. Hot. Wetness streamed down her heated face. She needed him to know her. She slipped her tongue out and tasted salt. “I have craved two things since we met. Both are scandalous, both coming to me in dreams. Images of joining with you. Biting you and feeding from your blood. Nightmares that I woke from in ecstasy. I hated you so. Now, I don’t know. I-I want you. I want you to know me and for me to know you. My life is toppled on its side again.”

  Madoc smiled, and his thumb caressed the top of her hand. “Fina, I feel the same. My life is off its axis too. One question—you crave only my blood? No one else’s?”

  “My urges have all involved only you.” She shivered again and closed her eyes.

  When she awoke again, darkness had overcome the city and the room. She had slept. Dry cracking coated her lips. She slid out her tongue. Dryness coated it too. She swallowed and swallowed again.

  The mattress depressed beside her, and someone pressed up to her backside under the covers. Hot skin. She shivered. A muscular male body and hairy legs entwined with hers. Her breath hitched, and the smell of spicy peppers and that unfamiliar sweetness surrounded her. Madoc.

  No clothing separated them. She moaned and pushed her bottom against his groin. A hard phallus pressed into her bottom swells.

  Fingers pulled her hair from her shoulder and back. Breath warmed her pulse against her throat. “I know this seems horrible.” Madoc’s voice played a calming tune on her nerves. “But everything in me says this is the only way to save you. I must bite you again, and you too, then, will bite me. I don’t understand why. The fire told me of this, but the flames can be fickle when unused. I know now with all I am that this is the only way you will not die. We must feed you with my blood and my poisons.”

  She wanted this with certainty. How could she want her scandalous dreams with such desperation? The moments before the fever overtook her again, the magic disappeared. She was human again. A strange delight and a part of her past. Madoc was her future. Her leg twitched, and a hot ache seeped through her muscles.

  She wished she were home. Home. No shimmering glow appeared this time. No window to her room or their kitchen where Pa sat reading most of the day. She was, at this moment, human and dying.

  Pa…and the soothing sound of the clocks in the shop.

  She couldn’t die.

  She wanted to see him again.

  To right all of Catherine’s and Jonathan’s wrongs.

  She did want to live, and her attraction to Madoc could not be denied. She had been drawn to him from the moment she set eyes on him in her father’s shop. Beyond all the biting and weird magic, did he truly care about her? He seemed to…but he talked about fate, not love.

  She would figure out how to control her new skills of fire and distance. He would help her. She could trust in that.

  She arched her neck to give Madoc access to her throat. She wanted his lips on her skin. The drag of a wet tongue, the scrape of teeth and the bite. Indeed she needed him.

  His tongue touched her skin, then fluttered. He licked in one long stripe from her shoulder to her ear, then flicked her earlobe. “You are certain?”

  “Yes.”

  An exhalation of breath came from him, brushed like butterfly wings on her jagged nerves. She shivered. His teeth pressed, and pain spiked through her neck. She tensed and held in a cry of pain. She concentrated on the way his long, sleek hair slipped onto her breast. The cool strands slithered and tickled along her nipples as his head moved while he feasted on her.

  His jaw jittered against her skin. The pulling sensation as he sucked her blood from her neck slowed. A pulsing sting from the bite. A rush of fire burned and tingled into her flesh. Her face twisted, and her teeth clenched.

  The pain vanished. Pleasure swept her body. The heat of fever changed to uncontrollable need. Goose bumps washed her skin, and her core wept to join with him.

  She moaned and arched her body into his. Pinpricks of heat curled her toes. She reached behind her and clutched his hips, rubbing her bottom into his pelvis.

  She slid her thighs apart. She wanted him to touch her there. The need to join with him overwhelmed her.

  He sucked again on her neck. With her shoulders, she pushed him back, rolling with him so she lay on top of him. The coarseness of his chest against her back made her squirm.

  His hands wrapped about her stomach and slid lower to the curls on her mound. Her sex throbbed at the touch.

  “Sit up with me.” She moved her hands to her sides and pushed up. He came with her. She sat with her back to his chest.

  He pulled his teeth s
lowly from her neck. His wet tongue lapped her skin and then slid to her shoulder.

  Shivers raised the hair on her head. She spread her legs over his, letting her knees rest on the outside of his thighs. His touch slid into her slippery folds. He curled his fingertips into her opening and then traced the swollen rim. Pleasure bubbled through her, and she moaned.

  His peg stood up straight between her legs. Heat overwhelmed her. She had touched a phallus before, but his was so beautiful. A proud crown, thick shaft and heavy sac below. She wrapped her fingers about the stiff length and slid her hand down and then up to the swollen head. She placed her finger in her mouth and gathered some moisture, then trailed the wetness over the engorged head.

  Smooth, hot skin met her touch.

  Drawing her hand down to the base and back up, she found the crevice in the head and traced up to his sex’s eye.

  A slick dewdrop of moisture coated her fingertips. The urge to taste every part of him made her mouth water. She placed the oily drop into her mouth and tasted him. A sweet tang coated her taste buds.

  Mmm.

  She wanted his essence all over her, in her. She wanted to smell him for days.

  She folded her legs and pushed up onto her knees. Grasping his penis, she rubbed the head against the entrance to her body.

  His staff filled her grasp. She rubbed the head back and forth in her folds, quivering with each stroke.

  His penis head caught in her opening, and she stopped. He grasped her hip, stilling her. “Have you done this before?”

  She had, with one of the neighbor’s sons. They had been curious, and one thing led to another. This was different, though. This was passion and desire, not simple curiosity.

  “I have.” She wiggled her hips, letting his width stretch her opening. Wetness slipped from her core, coating his head and part of her hand.

  A deep primal moan escaped him.

  With a quick press of her hips, she slid down his length, seating herself in his lap. She sucked in a startled breath. She trailed her fingers down to where his peg stretched her wide open. Slick soft flesh pouted out around his stiffness. They were joined.

  Her chest tightened. He filled her. The memory of her nightmares flooded her. She wanted it all. Each stroke the scandalous dreams promised. Each touch she craved.

  His fingers wrapped around her hip and slid to her stomach. His breathing labored in her ear. “You had the first move. The rest are mine.” He rolled her onto her stomach, her face against the cotton sheet. She splayed her arms out to brace herself.

  His hands slipped to her buttocks and gripped in a searing touch. He groaned, then slowly he pulled his phallus back.

  Every movement sent pleasure through her body. She arched and curled her toes.

  His stroked slowly. Exquisite torture. She arched her back and thrust her hips up to meet him.

  His fingertips dug into the flesh of her bottom, and he pulled her cheeks apart. Heat and tingling shot to where his prick spread her wide. He watched. She knew he watched them join. She wanted to see that too. To watch him disappear into her and reemerge all wet and glistening. She gripped him with her insides with a rhythmic pulsing.

  His body jerked. “No.” The word sounded a curse. He throbbed inside her, and warm wetness filled her womb.

  His hand released her bottom and sat on the small of her back. He did not move. “You did not find your pleasure.” His deep and passion-filled voice came from behind her.

  She said nothing, but her body hummed and quivered about him in need.

  He slowly pulled out. Her parts quivered, wet and empty. She rolled onto her side, and he lay on the bed facing her. He wrapped his arms around her. She squirmed against him, wanting more of his touch.

  After a few moments had passed, he asked, “Are you feeling better?” His fingers traced her face and tucked locks of her hair behind her ear.

  Was she? She stared at his strong chin and high cheekbones. His lips formed a slightly open straight line. Calm radiated in his eyes. He cared for her well-being. Truly cared. Her core warmed, and tears wet her eyes. “Quite so.”

  He trailed his hand down her cheek to her chin and stilled. He leaned in and pressed his lips softly to hers, then pulled back. “Transition.”

  Transition. Such a scientific term for the sensations coursing through her body. She snagged her lower lip in her teeth. No. It was more than physiology. Yesterday, she’d hated this man. Even earlier today. But everything changed. Her family… Her safety… Her view of the world. Her new strength and abilities came from him, his bite, their joining. She needed him. How could that be?

  “This has been different than Celeste’s transition. I should have expected ours to be, but we had no idea. I had no idea. We are so different. You are stronger than I, both with your element and as a human, where Jordan is stronger than Celeste.”

  She continued to stare at him. Nothing he said made sense to her. Only this. Being here with him called to her soul.

  Her entire body tingled with exhilaration. Strength? No. Women were not the strong ones.

  Though a confidence rippled through her that she had not had even a few hours before. Determination wrapped around her. An undeniable knowledge of what was right and wrong filled her heart.

  She reached out and touched his chest. Silky smooth scales met her fingers. She glanced at the spot where her hand touched. Where before his shirt had opened, she had touched the skin and curls. Below that spot, a line of scales formed a large circle on his torso. The mark on his cheek, a singular scale. She reached up and touched the crescent on his cheek. Her breath caught.

  She returned her touch to the circle and traced the scales’ path with her fingertip.

  “They glow when I am angry or using powerful magic. I have no idea if I will now be able to breathe fire like you or, really, what will happen.” He reached down and entwined his hand with hers. “I do know I will listen to the fire and time. I will listen to you. That is how we become more than mates. We will become friends. Lovers. Family. I want children. Lots of them.”

  His words sank straight to her heart. She had not thought of a family with him. An ache, so tender and acute, bubbled through her body and peaked her nipples. She arched toward him.

  He leaned in and licked the swell of her breast. He slid his hand between her thighs. She closed her eyes. Flutters caressed her nipple, and then he latched over the peak and sucked deep. Sensation pulled straight to her sex. His finger slipped inside her.

  Embers of pleasure burst into flame. She slid her legs far apart, needing him deeper inside her. His palm ground into the sensitive flesh at the top of her entrance. He sucked and flicked her nipple.

  Fire raced through her veins, and she cried out. With his touch, he replaced her nightmare with fantasy.

  His finger and palm moved faster, in and out. An invisible rope he held coiled inside her. Pressure grew unbearable. She squirmed against his hands and gripped his head. Wetness coated his fingers, and the sloppy sound as he pumped in and out of her tipped her close to the abyss. Releasing her nipple, he arched his neck to the side. “Feed from me.” In a fog of pure bliss, she obeyed him. She licked the skin on his throat, and her mouth watered. Pain ripped through her gums, and her fangs extended. She bit, slicing down into the soft tissue of him. Tart blood flooded her mouth. The tension in her body rushed to the peak and eased.

  He slipped his finger out once, fast, and plunged back, curling his finger to touch her inner wall as he did so.

  She squirmed and pushed against his inside touch. Red light flashed behind her eyes. She groaned, and her entire body jerked in pleasure. She released his neck, and warmth rushed down her chin. The imaginary rope inside her moved with each rub of his finger. Ecstasy exploded through her.

  She lay limp in bliss.

  He left his hand where it lay, his finger inside her.

  He dragged the cover up her body and pulled her to him with his other hand. “Sleep is what you need.” He pressed h
is lips to her forehead, and she nestled into the crook of his neck. She drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Fina awoke. A delicious smell filled the air. She stretched and rolled onto her side and inhaled again. Meat. The smell of cooked sweet sausage.

  Her tummy growled, and she pushed up onto her elbows. Fancy polished wood and intricate wall coverings surrounded her. Morning sunlight poured through the windows that looked out onto the Seine.

  Madoc’s hotel.

  A smile burst to her lips, and she shook her head. So much had happened in the last day. Pushing back the covers, she threw her legs over the side of the bed. A low, aching energy danced along her skin like flickering candlelight. A tickle of energy as she unbent her knees, and then again as she flexed her toes. She felt good. She inhaled deeply again and relaxed her shoulders. Better than good.

  The memory of her surge of anger and tackling Jonathan flooded her mind. Madoc and Hudson had pulled her from him before she could do him any true harm. Her brow knitted. Everything after that… She could not remember.

  She stood and walked to the mirror. Dried blood smeared across her chin, nose and cheek. She grasped a handkerchief and started to wipe her face clean. A red flash in the mirror caught her eye, and she stopped. About her wrists, exactly where she had burned herself, red scales shimmered like thick ruby bangles. She touched the soft, glittering scales.

  Visions of her joining with Madoc in the middle of night flooded her mind. He had these same scales on his chest. The red crescent on his cheek—not an ink mark, but a small scale.

  She trembled and refocused on the mirror to inspect her body. The scar on her breast now shimmered a paler shade of red too. A tingling washed through her back, and she twirled about. At the base of her spine, right where he had touched her after spending in her last night, a perfect red circle the size of his hand shimmered.

  The flesh between her thighs moistened. He’d marked her in more than one way. The bite on her neck. The burn marks on her arms, and his hand on her back. But she had hated him. Hadn’t she? She wet the cloth and continued to clean her face. The dark red splash on her nose would not move.