Licking Fire_A Howls Romance_Stop Dragon My Heart Around

by Mandy M. Roth

  Walking to the fireplace, Rayer snorted and then held the parchment out. There were secrets the humans in his life could not know. What he was happened to be one of them. He sucked in a breath and then released it, allowing his mouth to partially shift forms as he did. Flames licked past his lips at the parchment. He shifted his hand as well, permitting deep-gold scales to cover it. The scales were resistant to heat, allowing him to hold the letter until it burned nearly away. The ashes fell into the open fireplace, and Rayer’s hand and mouth returned to human form.

  There would be no visiting Zarek and his mate Keren for the holidays—though they asked yearly. Rayer would have his assistant send gifts to them and to their children, and that would be the end of that. He couldn’t sit in their happy home and not be a jealous beast. He simply wasn’t a big enough man to do so.

  The buzzer from the front desk of his high-rise rang. Rayer approached the intercom system and pressed the button, a level of sorrow resting in his voice. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Drackos,” said Timothy, the evening front doorman. “There is a young woman here. Says it’s imperative she speak with you, sir. I would have sent her away like the others who try to see you, but, sir…you should see her.”

  Rayer’s brow knit. Timothy had worked the evening shift at the front desk for over a decade. He knew Rayer well. Perhaps too well. He knew Rayer’s secrets, and how much he valued his privacy. He also understood that Rayer did not have visitors to his home.

  His assistant, Tobias, wasn’t even permitted access to his home. Rayer had an office building where he conducted his business affairs. And he used expensive hotels to bed women when he wanted a fuck. No one but him entered his personal dwelling.

  Timothy had never pushed for him to accept any visitor, and that in itself piqued Rayer’s curiosity. “Send the woman up.”

  “Yes, sir.” Timothy was quiet a moment before the intercom engaged once more. “And if I may, sir. Wise choice.”

  Something within Rayer stirred. He huffed out a tiny puff of smoke, his emotions running high. A sudden tightness gripped his stomach, and it confused him. Was he anxious? Worried? Why? He was well known for his calm exterior and icy demeanor in business dealings.

  Rayer adjusted himself, his balls suddenly heavy and in need of release. He glanced at the front door, wondering what this woman heading toward him wanted, and if she was attractive. He could use a fuck, and while he didn’t ever partake in such activities in his home, he could make an exception just this once.

  Maybe.

  He set his empty wineglass on the counter and then positioned himself before the large gilded mirror near the entrance to his home. His dark hair was unruly and refused to stay slicked back like he wished it would. There was nothing he could do about his eyes. They were turquoise. Most humans assumed they were contacts. He let them believe he was an eccentric billionaire with a flair for shocking people.

  He cuffed the sleeves of his deep red silk shirt and smoothed the front of his designer black pants. He liked his clothing high end. He liked nice things. And he wasn’t ashamed to admit he took great pride in himself and his body. He worked out regularly and practiced martial arts several times a week. All things that kept him ready for anything.

  Anything except unexpected guests, apparently, as a light sheen of sweat broke out over his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, bewildered as to what his problem suddenly was. Had he contracted a rare supernatural virus? If so, what?

  After a few moments, there was a knock at the door. Rayer drew in a deep breath, his body jerking with need as the undertones of woman, vanilla, and cream filtered to him, pushing past the smells of the city. He clenched his fists, doing his best to control the dragon within. It wanted to peek out and see for itself what wonders lie just beyond the closed door. It wanted to sample the female.

  He’d not had sex in nearly three weeks. Work had been all consuming, and he’d not bothered to stop and scratch his manly itch. From the smell of it, a hot little number had come calling. Her scent appealed to him on all levels. The scary part was that his dragon side had taken an interest. It had never done so before in all his nearly six hundred years, not with any of the thousands of women he’d bedded.

  Different.

  His dragon side thrust the word into his mind, making him take notice of it. The dragon wanted him to know, before he opened the door, that the woman beyond it was different from the others.

  More.

  Mine.

  Chapter Two

  Alondra Pallon brushed flakes of snow from the shoulders of her red jacket before she rubbed her hands together, hoping to get some feeling back into them. She was careful to use slow movements, as her upper right arm was injured. It was bandaged, and she hoped the bleeding had finally stopped. It was the least of her concerns at the moment.

  She knew she should remove her knit cap, but she was still freezing, and the idea of giving up any amount of warmth made her even colder. Shivering, she blew into her hands, hoping to warm them somewhat. Her mittens were in her pockets, soaked through. Everything on her was wet and cold.

  Tears threatened to fall, but she clung to them, refusing to give in.

  She’d hit the lowest point in her life, and she could only hope the rest of her life went smoother. She couldn’t continue as she’d been going for the past few weeks. She’d never survive. And she couldn’t do it alone.

  Help was needed.

  She stood outside the high-rise door that lacked anything in the way of holiday decorations, and continued to try to warm herself. Rayer Drackos owned the entire building. Heck, he owned most of this side of the city. She knew as much. She’d done her homework.

  The lure of the building before her was too great to resist. While she’d lingered outside more than once, losing her nerve and leaving, the time had come to make contact with the reclusive businessman.

  At the very least, she could warm up in the building’s lobby if the doorman didn’t run her off. Gathering her courage, Alondra crossed the busy street and entered the building, instantly getting hit with a blast of warm air.

  She shivered and glanced around, wondering if she’d have a minute to not only warm up, but gather her thoughts as well. Within seconds, she was greeted by the doorman, who looked happy to see her.

  She froze.

  “It’s a cold one out there today,” the man said, his voice kind, his smile even kinder.

  All she did was nod.

  He walked around from the back of his desk and held a cup out, as if he’d been expecting her. Steam rolled off it. “Here. A quick bit of tea to take the chill out of the air.”

  Alondra took the cup from the man and brought it to her lips, her gaze never leaving him. There was a certain something about the man that said he was incredibly caring and safe.

  Something she’d not felt in weeks.

  Exhaustion nearly won out, but she managed to stay upright and keep hold of the paper cup. The hot liquid slid over her tongue and down her throat, doing just as the man had promised. It took some of the cold from her, seeming to thaw her achingly cold bones.

  She glanced around the lobby once more. The smallest of Christmas trees sat upon the counter of the desk, lit up, the only thing in the lobby indicating the holidays were upon them.

  The doorman grinned. “That is my touch.”

  She nodded. “I like it.”

  The man winked. “The building’s owner is so-so on it.”

  From the lack of anything more than strategically placed, high-end, modern artwork in the lobby, Mr. Drackos wasn’t much for holiday cheer.

  She’d always loved this time of year when she was little. Not so much anymore. Now it was a harsh reminder of how alone she was in the world. And for one brief moment, she wished she had someone to share the holiday with.

  Someone to laugh with.

  Someone to love.

  Various lies ran through her head to tell the doorman in order to be permitted access to Mr. Dr
ackos. When Alondra finally settled on one that might work, she opened her mouth to say it but he cut her off.

  “Take the elevator to the top floor. You’ll find who and what you’re looking for there,” the man said, winking again. He reached out and eased the cup from her hand before easing her in the direction of the elevator doors. “I’m Timothy, and he’ll be expecting you.”

  Before she could so much as question why he wasn’t demanding to know who she was and what she wanted, he had her loaded onto the elevator and the button for the top floor pressed, and then the doors were shutting.

  Stunned, she rode up in silence, all by herself, staring at her reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. The doors opened when she reached the top floor and she stepped out, still at a loss as to why it had been so easy to gain access to the city’s number-one recluse.

  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” she said to herself, walking in the direction of the door.

  She swallowed hard, staring at the door before her as if it were a gateway to hell. Maybe it was. Maybe it was just a gateway to the crazy farm if she was wrong. There had to be someone who would believe her. Someone who knew monsters were real.

  Impulse had led her there, but now she wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

  She was about to turn to leave…when the strongest urge to remain in place came over her. She’d spent weeks living in fear, and she should have been downright terrified to meet Rayer Drackos face to face, but the idea of leaving without seeing him seemed to scare her more.

  “You can do this,” she said, trying to muster the additional courage. It didn’t quite work, but she didn’t run, so she considered it a win.

  She was out of options.

  She had nowhere left to go.

  The mayor and local organized crime members had already made attempts on her life. When they’d failed to make her vanish by way of cement shoes in the river, they’d resorted to other means. They’d gotten her fired from her job at the paper, were in the process of getting her evicted, had frozen her financials, and they’d discredited her publically, making her accusations against them nothing more than running jokes around the city. They weren’t men to be toyed with, and she’d learned as much after her story broke.

  She’d learned they weren’t really men at all.

  Rayer Drackos would either take one look at her and decide she needed his help, or he’d hand her over to those wanting to harm her.

  Then there was always the third option: he’d call the authorities to report a crazy woman was in his home, ranting about the impossible and full of conspiracy theories.

  She’d be locked up for sure then.

  She didn’t have firm proof Rayer Drackos was the one person the mayor feared, but everything continued to point back to the eccentric billionaire, and she was out of money and time. Besides, if he was who she thought he might be, then he actually could help her.

  The mayor wasn’t human—and if she was right, neither was Mr. Drackos.

  She needed help on that matter and possible clarity on another. She touched her bag. The journal her grandfather had left her was tucked safely inside. She’d kept it with her, fearful of leaving it out of her sight, especially since her apartment had been broken into four times since she’d brought forth claims of corruption at the city government level. She had more than one journal, but had always been told to keep them hidden separately from one another in the event they were discovered. She’d listened. The other two were hidden in the city, and as far as she knew, they were still safe.

  The accusations in her article that had run online and in the local paper had caused a firestorm. From there, she’d had threats leveled against her before an outright attempt on her life had been made.

  Alondra swallowed hard, gently rubbing her bandaged upper right arm. She’d been doing her best to keep the wound clean. Her body was battered and bruised as well. She was exhausted, hungry, and injured. She needed rest, some food, and medical attention, but she couldn’t go to a hospital. The mayor would have people looking for her there.

  No.

  For now, she’d need to hope for help of a different kind. She needed to hope legends and fantasy were real. If not, there was a very real chance she’d not live to see Christmas, let alone have to worry about spending it by herself.

  Her fingers skimmed her grandfather’s journal. If what he had written was true, Rayer Drackos was a man of honor and great power.

  Closing her eyes tight, she wished with all she had that the words in the journal were true, even if it meant everything she thought she knew about the world was wrong.

  That men who could change into dragons were real.

  And possibly, one of those men could protect her from the mayor and his men, who were anything but human.

  “Please be real,” she whispered, lifting her hand to knock on the door.

  The door opened—and she froze.

  There, filling the doorframe, seeming impossibly large, was a man who looked nearly identical to sketches her grandfather had done in his journal. A journal he’d written when he was in his early twenties—some fifty years ago.

  Her breath caught as she soaked in the sight of the man before her. All the excitement, all the planning and endless rehearsing on what she’d say when she was finally before him, went out the window.

  Rayer Drackos was gorgeous.

  And he’d not aged in the slightest, from the sketches to now.

  Long, slightly curly black hair hung to his chin, partially eclipsing one side of his incredibly handsome face. He had strong features, and nothing on him appeared anything less than chiseled. The red of his shirt looked stunning against his tawny skin. The top three buttons were undone, showing off his hairless chest. She had to rip her gaze upward again to keep from being obvious.

  When she reached his turquoise eyes, she gasped. She’d never seen anything like them before. They were so intense and so locked on her that she felt weak in the knees. The sketches were in black and white, so she’d not been prepared for just how much seeing him in living color would affect her.

  She’d basically been running for her life, was injured, and pretty sure she was going crazy, but her hormones didn’t care. All they noticed was the hunk standing before her.

  He watched her for what felt like the longest time, saying nothing at all. The longer he looked at her, the more she wondered if she had something on her face. Did her face reflect the attack she’d managed to narrowly escape?

  She cleared her throat, words not wanting to come. Her mind blanked, and for a moment she worried she’d blurt out something stupid, like “take my virginity, stud.”

  That was what she currently wanted him to do. To heck with protecting her from bad men. She wanted him to slide between her legs and do wicked things to her.

  Very wicked things.

  “And who might you be?” he asked, an accent evident yet unreadable.

  Oh, dear gods above, the hot guy had a hot voice to go with the hot packaging.

  Alondra had half a mind to slap a hand over her mouth, fearing she just might give in to her ovaries, which were currently screaming at her to breed with this rare male treat. She’d never thought of having babies before, but the longer she stood in front of this guy, the more they were coming to mind.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  She gulped, her jacket and hat suddenly feeling as if they were totally unnecessary. Had she really been cold only seconds before? “I’m good. Is it hot out here?”

  His abnormal gaze slid over her slowly, heating her body more. He wet his lower lip and she bit back a moan. “Yes. The temperature is certainly rising.”

  Swaying from the sheer closeness of all the testosterone he was leaking, Alondra’s eyes fluttered shut a moment as she felt the strangest urge to pet the man. She resisted, but it was hard.

  The man’s brows drew together. He sniffed the air in a blatant manner. “Who are you?”

  That sobered her. �
�This was a really bad idea. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was desperate, and, well, never mind. I’ll go.”

  She turned, ready to cut and run, humiliation coating her from head to toe. This was quite possibly the craziest thing she’d ever done, and she’d spent three summers as a child in a remote region in Eastern Europe and then Greece with her grandfather and two of her cousins, exploring old caverns that her grandfather swore used to be dragon lairs.

  But this took the cake.

  The sexy man reached out and caught hold of her wrist gently, and for a second she was sure she actually was going to go up in flames as heat seemed to radiate from him to her. He gasped as well, his gaze still narrowed in question.

  “Who are you?” he asked firmly, his hand holding her tighter in its grasp.

  “I’m sorry I bothered you,” she managed to say, feeling faint. Did he have to stare at her with those sexy eyes? Were those contacts? She pulled her arm free from his grasp, her breathing increasing as her gaze fixed on his.

  He stepped out into the hall some, causing her to move backward. He reached for her again, and she flinched.

  “I will not harm you.”

  Her mouth felt like she’d drunk sand, it was so dry. Fleeing sounded like a great idea. She glanced at the elevator doors and then moved as quickly as she could to them. Jabbing the button, she fought the urge to look back at Rayer.

  He put his hand over hers, pinning her finger to the button. “You are soaked. Come in and speak with me. That is why you came, correct? To speak to me?”

  The elevator pinged and the doors opened. She attempted to enter, but Rayer put his body partially in the open area, his arm shooting out, halting the doors from closing again, and her from entering. “Tell me your name.”

  “Alondra,” she said, her voice sounding small as she lowered her gaze.

  “And you came here on this night to speak with me, yes?”

  She bit at her lower lip. “I did, but never mind. It was a bad idea. Have a nice night, Mr. Drackos. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “The doorman said you needed to speak with me. That it was imperative. Is that so?” he asked, looking her over more.