Dragon's Rogue

by Anastasia Wilde

  She gathered the rest of her courage. “And… what do you feel?”

  Zane didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took her hand and pulled her to the couch. They sat down, him still holding her hand, smoothing his thumb over it the same way he’d stroked the gold necklace.

  And it gave her the same shivery feeling.

  Blaze held her breath.

  Finally he said, “Do you know how old I am?”

  Draken lived a long time. Centuries. But she didn’t know if Wild Dragons were the same. “You look like you’re about thirty.”

  He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his dimple reappearing. “I’m two hundred and eighty-seven.”

  “No way.” What was she supposed to say to that? “Umm… you don’t look a day over two hundred?”

  Zane laughed.

  “I’m sorry,” Blaze said. “All I can think of are Viagra jokes.”

  The dimple deepened. “So far, I haven’t found the need. Maybe in another few hundred years. I’ll let you know.”

  A few hundred years. She couldn’t even imagine that. “I guess I can’t wrap my head around living that long. Things around you change so much. Doesn’t that feel strange?”

  He was still stroking her hand with his thumb. She loved the way that felt, and it scared her that she loved it.

  “I was here before Portland was settled. I watched it grow into the city it is today. I used to fly up the Columbia Gorge with my father, and later with Thorne, and bathe in the river. I’ve seen the forests decimated by fire more than once, and seen them grow back even more beautiful.

  “I was there when they built the first paved road along the Gorge. I went to the dedication ceremony, as a human, up on Crown Point, the bluff where I used to sit and sun myself and watch the river. It was just before they broke ground for Vista House. That night, sleeping in my cave further along the bluff, I had my first dream. About you.”

  That stunned her. “You dreamed about me all the way back then?”

  He nodded. “Over a hundred years ago. 1916. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. After that, I used to look forward to going to sleep, hoping that the dreams would come, treasuring them when they did. Sometimes you were alone in them, and sometimes we were together. I’ve made love to you a thousand times in my dreams.”

  Blaze just listened to him, mesmerized.

  “I didn’t know when I would meet you, or if I even would. I didn’t know if anything in the dreams would be real.”

  He reached out, running his fingertip along the edge of the necklace, over her skin. His voice was almost a whisper. “But I wanted it to be. So much.”

  Blaze felt frozen. Part of her yearned toward him the way she had from the moment they met. The part that made her feel warm inside when she was with him, safe and protected. The part that had broken open inside her when making love to him, and had made the gold in her gallery sing.

  But that part felt raw and new and vulnerable, and this was all so overwhelming.

  The part of her that had survived and held to her mission all these years was resisting it, telling her that to be strong she couldn’t rely on anyone else. If she couldn’t trust her coven, the sacred circle she was born into, how could she trust a dragon?

  That made her ache on the inside, a hollow feeling she hadn’t let herself feel for years. This was all too much. She opened her mouth to say so, but he stopped her.

  “All I’m trying to say is, I feel like I’ve known you for a hundred years. I know instinctively that you’re mine, and so does my dragon.” He touched the necklace. “And we’re yours.”

  The words seemed to echo in the room, and the gold hummed, as faint as a distant sigh.

  His fingers trailed up her neck, along her jawbone. “I keep having to remind myself that I’m a stranger to you, that you don’t feel that.”

  He took a deep breath. “So if you want to take this slow, or…”

  Or not do it at all… She could almost see the words trembling on his lips, and she knew he couldn’t bring himself to say them.

  He couldn’t bring himself to give up the woman of his dreams.

  He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing them lightly over her knuckles. Electric tingles spread from everywhere he touched her. His hand cradled hers like it was a delicate dragonfly, captured for only a moment, and so precious that a false move would crush it.

  How could that simple touch of lips against her hand be more electric than any full-on kiss she’d ever had? He paused, and looked up into her eyes.

  There was something deep and fathomless in their sky-blue depths. As if she could see the universe in his eyes, years and centuries of life, all coalescing into this one moment.

  She caught her breath. She had meant to pull away, to say she needed more time, but she couldn’t. All she could do was lose herself in those eyes, swept away like flying.

  His lips moved to the inside of her wrist, making her shiver, and continued up the tender skin on the inside of her forearm. Then he released her hand, skimming his fingers up her upper arm, across the point of her shoulder, tracing her collarbone and up her neck. Her head tipped back of its own volition, and she raised her lips to his, feeling them part gently with a sigh.

  His hand brushed her hair back over her shoulder, and cupped the back of her neck.

  And then his lips were on hers.

  Oh.

  His kiss was deeper than it had been the night before. She could feel the emotion behind it. Gentle, and yet powerful, with a hint of seductive darkness. Every nerve ending tingled—her breasts, her belly, her sex. She wanted to savor him like fine wine, and drink him down like a shot of whiskey.

  Every piece of gold in the room began to sing. It was both a sound and a feeling, and it was pure joy.

  Chapter 30

  Zane slid his arms around Blaze, pulling her closer. Her mouth opened to him, sweet with the taste of red velvet cake. Her tongue tangled with his, and he deepened the kiss, feeling like he could drown in her.

  He’s been waiting such a long time. Decades. He sat back on the couch and pulled her close, cradled across his lap. Her hands stroked his pecs, his shoulders; her fingers buried themselves in his hair.

  She made a soft sound of happiness. The necklace around her neck hummed against his skin, and his dick throbbed with a desire that was almost painful.

  He felt desperate with desire and longing, even more than he had when they made love in the gallery. Nothing in his dreams had prepared him for the intensity of that bond. Whether she felt it or not, in was all over for him in that moment.

  The thought that she might not feel the same way was intolerable. Impossible.

  She was his treasure now, and he had to cherish her and make her happy.

  He kissed her neck, trying to take it slow, all the time wanting to devour her and burn up in flames. He trailed his lips across her shoulder, where the strap of her nightgown had fallen and the top folded back, exposing the top of her breast.

  He wanted that, her soft creamy skin. He moved his lips downward, and reached inside the neck of her gown to cup her breast and lift it free. Her nipple was already hard, and he knew what it would feel like in his mouth, what it would taste like, exactly how she liked him to lick it, to suck gently, to graze his teeth over it ever so lightly…

  Blaze groaned. Zane’s dick throbbed, pressing against the seam of his jeans. So many nights he’d woken from his dreams of her hot and desperate, and he’d wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her and wrap her around him, thrust inside her molten core until she forgot everything but the feel of him inside her.

  He wanted that now.

  Her hands seemed to be everywhere: touching, stroking, igniting flames wherever her fingers touched.

  Mine, his dragon roared inside him. Ours, Zane said. Every piece of gold in the room hummed, happy to be part of their bond.

  Part of their song.

  Dimly, he heard Tyr’s m
ental voice. Zane?

  Not now.

  Tyr didn’t get the hint. Hey, bro, this is important—

  He got the impression of Thorne bitching about something in the background.

  Unless Vyrkos is rising RIGHT NOW, go away, Zane said.

  But—

  Zane slammed his mind shut, cutting off communications. He was with his mate. Tyr would just have to wait.

  Blaze’s gown was down to her waist now, baring her breasts to him. He buried his face in them, licking and kissing. She moaned, her body writhing, her bottom rubbing against his swollen shaft in delicious torture.

  This. He could kiss her for hours, for days, forever.

  He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Nothing wrong with couch sex, but this time he wanted a soft mattress and room to worship her.

  They broke their kiss briefly as he laid her down, stretching out beside her and sliding his hand up her thigh, rucking up the nightgown. He kissed her breasts, ran his tongue down her belly, stroked her between her legs on the outside of her panties, teasing her with light touches.

  “Make them go away,” she murmured. “My clothes.”

  He obediently vanished her nightgown, but left the panties to prolong the anticipation, sucking gently on her clit through the silky cloth. She moaned, arching her back, and he felt her clench and shudder already.

  That made him even harder, the feel and scent of her desire, how quickly he could bring her to climax. He moved upward, covering her in kisses—her breasts, her neck, her shoulders, her lips.

  She reached for him, cupping him on the outside of his jeans, and his dick throbbed. “I could help you with that,” he murmured. “Make the jeans go away.”

  She shook her head, grinning wickedly. “Some things I like to do myself.”

  She teased him as he’d teased her, biting ever so gently up his shaft, on the outside of his jeans. Zane thought he was going to come right there, and then she undid the button and slowly slid the zipper down, just an inch.

  He’d pulled his jeans on commando this afternoon, and the head of his cock was exposed. Blaze brought her mouth to him, swirling her tongue, sucking and licking until he wanted to die on the spot. She inched the zipper down, tasting and touching and making sweet sounds of pleasure.

  Zane groaned, clutching the sheets with both hands. When he was about to explode, she rose and straddled him, still wearing her panties, rocking her core over his shaft, her hands on his chest.

  Zane couldn’t stand it anymore. He vanished the rest of their clothes, so she was naked and wet on top of him. She let out a cry of pleasure, sliding up and down his shaft, making him insane with delayed gratification.

  His belly clenched, he was so tight and hard and wanting, and yet he loved the tease, the buildup, the anticipation.

  He found her clit with his fingers, making slow circles, watching her face as lost herself in the sensation. He felt the tension building in her muscles, felt her reaching the edge, and increased the pressure just enough to send her over.

  She cried out in ecstasy, rocking against his hand and his cock, soft and slick and abandoned. Her total surrender nearly finished him, and he flipped their positions, sheathing himself in her with one hard thrust.

  Blaze cried out again, meeting his hips with hers. Her nails dug into his back, teeth sinking into his shoulder as she throbbed around his shaft.

  He loved it.

  “Yes,” she moaned, “Oh, God, Zane, yes!” He pulled out and thrust into her again. So soft, so wild. Mate, his dragon agreed. Ours.

  He hooked his elbow underneath her knee, raising her leg so he could enter her more deeply. He wanted to touch her deepest core, brand her as his, give her everything he had. Pleasure her until she was exhausted.

  They moved together now, nothing but heat and sensation and wordless cries. Zane stopped holding himself back, stopped thinking, just thrust himself into her over and over, surrendering everything to her. His hopes, his dreams, his love, his future.

  There was only her.

  His climax swept over him without warning, a crescendo echoed by the song of the gold. He buried himself in her, saying her name over and over, feeling her right there with him, clenching him tightly inside her with one last release.

  Afterwards they lay together, spent and stunned. Zane moved so they were both on their sides, tangled deliciously together, their hands still moving, unable to stop touching each other.

  He stroked the small of her back, feeling a warm circular spot just above the base of her spine.

  “What’s this?” he murmured drowsily. “It’s hot.”

  “It is?” she said. “I have a tattoo there. Don’t know why it would be hot, though.”

  “A tattoo?” That was strange. He could swear he’d seen every inch of her in his dreams, and he didn’t remember any tattoo.

  “Can I see?” He was moving to look when he heard muffled steps in the hallway, and then someone pounding on his door.

  “Zane!” Tyr shouted. “It’s Thorne. He’s gone after Rebel and Tempest. We have to stop him.”

  The door flew open and Tyr burst in. In seconds Zane was on his feet, his dragon roaring through his human mouth. No other dragons got to look at his mate. Flame him!

  Blaze yanked at the sheet to cover herself. “What happened?”

  Tyr barely looked at her. “Sorry to interrupt your… whatever. That idiot Thorne obsessed all night about Rebel and Tempest having the Seals. His dragon finally lost it, and he took off to get them. Like, now.”

  “Why didn’t you go after him?”

  “Because he’s gone dragon!” Tyr snapped. “He’s got treasure fever, and he’s flying into St. Johns in the middle of the fucking day. It’s going to take both of us to stop him. Wherever Tempest and her sister are, he’s going to rip the building apart and drag them out in broad daylight, and carry them off in front of everyone. He might hurt her. Them.”

  “Oh, fuck.” Zane turned to Blaze. “I’m sorry. Tyr and I have to go. Even if Thorne doesn’t hurt them, he could destroy half of St. Johns and out the rest of us as dragons. You stay here and—”

  “Hell, no,” Blaze said. “I’m coming. You may need me for damage control. And memory-blurring spells for the bystanders.”

  Zane’s desire to keep her safe warred with the logic in her statement. “Okay,” he said. “Tyr, go on. We’ll be right behind you.”

  Tyr ran to the open window. It had no screen, and he leaped onto the windowsill and flung himself out into space. Zane heard Blaze gasp.

  A huge shadow crossed the window as Tyr Changed, and then he was gone. Zane went over to the bed and grabbed Blaze’s shoulders, magically dressing her in jeans, t-shirt, jacket and boots. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Blaze shook her head, looking around the room. “Clothes from last night?” she demanded.

  Zane pointed; they were draped over a carved chest at the foot of the bed.

  Blaze grabbed up her jeans and pulled a brass pendulum out of the pocket. “Okay,” she said. “Are we flying?”

  In answer, Zane swept her up into his arms and headed for the window. “Get ready,” he said.

  Then he stepped up onto the windowsill, Blaze still in his arms, bunched his legs and jumped.

  They dropped down, air rushing past them. He felt Blaze gasp again, and she clutched his arm, nails digging into his skin.

  He probably should have given her more warning. Zane Changed to dragon and snapped his wings out to catch an updraft, then followed Tyr, holding Blaze close.

  “Where are we heading?” Blaze asked.

  I don’t know. I was just going to follow the mayhem.

  “Well, let’s see if we can prevent it instead of following it, ‘K?”

  He felt a tentacle of power snaking between his talons. She must be using her tracking spell. That’s what the pendulum was for, he realized.

  I’m trying to decide if we should head for Rebel’s house, or the shop,
he said.

  “Spell says she’s at the house.”

  Thorne might not know that.

  “Yes he will. Anyway, Tyr will be at the shop.”

  How do you know?

  He heard her snort. “Didn’t you see Tyr’s face last night when he was talking about Tempest? He’s already in dragon-love with her. Which means he’ll go to her shop and try to protect her. It also means—if we really are the Three Mates—that Rebel is destined for Thorne. Are you telling me his dragon won’t know exactly where she is?”

  Ah, hell, she was right. If Rebel was Thorne’s mate, then he would home in on her like he would on his hoard, whether he realized he was doing it or not. In dragon form, in the middle of a Portland neighborhood.

  This was going to go so, so wrong.

  Where’s the house?

  “11435 Maple Street.” Blaze’s pendulum still contained the map from her tracking spell. She projected an image of it into the air in front of Zane, including the pin over the house.

  Damn, you’re better than Google.

  “Where do you think my map came from?” she said. “Better memorize it. I’m still low on energy, and it sounds like I’m going to need all the power I can muster. Holding this image will just waste it.”

  Got it, he said. You can let it go now. Hold on, we’re going in.

  Blaze was right. Rebel was in St. Johns, and so was Thorne. They could hear him before they got there. As they approached the Maple Street house, Zane felt Blaze cast an illusion spell. A tree service company, working at Rebel’s house—with chainsaws. Hopefully that would take care of any neighbors who heard the noise.

  It worried him how exhausted she was. He was still so connected to her, he could feel the wave of dizziness that washed over her.

  It made his dragon angry. She is weak. She should not be here. Zane agreed, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

  He came down onto the roof. Lucky that Blaze had done the illusion spell—Thorne was definitely not cloaked. He filled the backyard, tearing up grass and knocking limbs off trees.

  And he had Rebel grasped in one huge front claw.

  At first all Zane saw was blood dripping down Thorne’s claws, and thought he’d hurt Rebel. Then he realized it was the other way around—Rebel had a knife out and was stabbing Thorne’s talons with it. The blade glowed with magic, which was why it was able to pierce his hide at all.