Never Dare a Dragon

by Ashlyn Chase

  A moment later, a young woman with honey-colored hair answered the door and opened it wide.

  “You must be Jayce,” she said.

  “I am. I’ve come to see Kristine.”

  “Come in. Come in. My name is Amber, and I run this joint with my fiancé, Rory Arish.” She stuck out her hand, and Jayce shook it, glancing up the stairs impatiently.

  “Is Kristine here?”

  Amber didn’t have to answer because the sound of running footsteps was soon followed by his lover, who jumped off the third step and into Jayce’s open arms. He caught her and held tight as she smacked kisses all over his face. He laughed and then puckered up, waiting for her lips to find his. They shared a long, languorous kiss.

  Jayce barely heard Amber say, “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Maybe we’ll see you at breakfast, Jayce.” She snickered as her footsteps faded away.

  “I’m so relieved to see you here and in one piece,” Jayce said.

  “You and me both. Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll show you my room.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Jayce asked, and they ran up the wide stairway hand in hand.

  On the third floor, Jayce let Kristine lead the way. He followed her to the end of a long hallway and waited impatiently for her to unlock the door to her room.

  When he stepped in, he couldn’t help being impressed. The beautiful four-poster bed against the far wall sported an elegant brocade bedspread and loads of colorful pillows. The drapes matched the bedspread, and the sumptuous fabric was tied back with gold cords.

  All he wanted to do was tear off their clothes and get horizontal, but the elegant furnishings made him think twice about carelessly tossing that bedspread across the room.

  She draped her arms over his shoulders, and they shared another hot kiss. A few moments later, someone cleared his throat, and Jayce realized they hadn’t closed the door. He managed to wrench himself away from Kristine and close the door on a grinning young man in the hall.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to provide an audience,” Jayce said.

  “I’m just as guilty of being overanxious.” Kristine giggled.

  Jayce picked her up, carried her to the bed, and set her down on it gently, tossing three of the five pillows.

  Kristine grabbed the hem of her T-shirt, yanked it over her head, and tossed it on the floor. She wore a black lace bra. Jayce couldn’t help wondering if she had panties to match or if she was sticking stubbornly to her granny panties. She moved and shimmied out of her jeans, silently answering his question. She was wearing, of all things, a black lace thong.

  “I thought you didn’t like floss.”

  “And I thought you liked nice surprises,” Kristine said and gave him a seductive look.

  When she turned around to pull the bedspread down, he almost died. The perfect globes of her bottom were right there for him to see or touch. He toed off his boots while removing his T-shirt and jeans. They followed Kristine’s clothes onto the floor.

  The moment Kristine turned around, facing him, he tackled her onto the bed. She laughed aloud as they bounced.

  “Can’t wait, huh?” Her turquoise-blue eyes gazed into his brown ones. There was a mysterious darker circle surrounding her irises, like especially deep parts of the ocean.

  He rolled until she was on top of him. She wiggled, batting her eyes playfully. “I thought you’d probably want me.”

  His cock was throbbing for her. The Neanderthal in him wanted to spread her wide and pound his way to heaven; the rest of him wanted to crush her in a sweet embrace for all eternity. The rush of love that flooded through his veins silenced him.

  “I love your chest.” Her hands were wandering over his skin, softly exploring. She dipped her head and licked his shoulder, her tongue tracing a muscle that flexed there. “Love your body,” she sighed.

  Oh damn, he was going to explode on the spot!

  There was no doubt he wanted her. Kristine could probably feel his iron-hard erection pulsing between them. Memories of the last time overwhelmed him. The friction of their mingled bodies, sending her screaming over the edge in bliss, had haunted his daydreams. Just the recollection was making him even harder. But Jayce was silent, clutching onto her for dear life, gazing into her eyes.

  “Oh, Jayce!”

  The tiny word released him. He was plastering kisses on her mouth, running his hands down her back over her ass and those sweetly pretty, hideously uncomfortable butt-floss panties she’d worn just for him. It had been a tease, but now her body burned. Her breath was ragged.

  He was drowning in her silky hair, her soft skin, and her perfume; a sweet feminine scent that reminded him of flower gardens. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever known, and he wanted her forever.

  A swift movement pulled the thong down to her knees. A wriggle sent them flying to the floor. His hard flesh slipped between her thighs, encountering the welcoming dampness there.

  “Don’t wait,” she gasped. “I want you right here, right now.”

  He leaned against her, reveling in her quivering body and her rasping breaths. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He paused, knowing he’d treasure this moment forever.

  Then he took her in one fierce move, piercing her core in a deep thrust. They fused together, arms folded tight. A moment later, they relaxed, and their bodies began their ancient dance in perfect harmony.

  He could feel the heat inside her gather and wondered if her breath might turn to fire. As he dipped his head, his tongue flicked over a taut nipple. Her deep internal muscles clenched, flooding him with fierce delight. Their sensuous movements coupled with the rough colliding of bodies sent him soaring again. Each strong thrust seemed to push her closer to the edge of release.

  Her skin was damp, her eyes heavy-lidded. Her legs crossed over his back, pulling him in close. She moaned, rising to meet his every thrust. Her need was driving his body and enveloping his soul. His balls tightened, his body taken over by shivers that drove him closer to his peak with each minute movement.

  They clenched and shuddered together. Their breaths mingled in harsh gulps as they rose and fell, seeking their release. Her heated body was releasing waves of hot womanly perfume. She was biting her lip, moaning and gasping.

  His fingers held tight to her upper arms as he pulsed into her in staccato bursts. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and her heels dug into him as she writhed and called his name.

  A fiery thrust flashed through him, fanning the flame into an inferno. Oh God, I’m coming hard.

  “I love you, Kristine!”

  A slow arch and quiver turned their gasps to shudders. Their bodies tightened, soaring before shattering. They were groaning in harmony. Kristine raked her fingernails down his back. They pulsed in frenzied explosions of sensation. Loving kisses mingled with raw panting and newly made memories of glorious abandon.

  They slowed to a shuddering halt, delighting in the aftershocks of almost violent ecstasy.

  * * *

  When Kristine and Jayce finally descended the marble staircase and made their way to the first-floor lounge, there was an animated discussion going.

  Two women rested on the cream-colored couch, and two men sat in adjacent light-blue armchairs. When they all noticed the couple, the men jumped to their feet. Kristine recognized Rory but not the other young man.

  “Kristine!” Amy exclaimed. “We found another dragon and possibly a relative!”

  Kristine gaped at the young man she didn’t know as Amy gestured to him. “This is Conlan Arish, Rory’s cousin from Ulster.”

  He stepped over to her and shook her hand. “Ah… It’s pleased I am to meet you. I see where you get your good looks.” He glanced over his shoulder at Amy, who beamed at him.

  Amber chuckled. “Beware of these Irish charmers.”

  “Are you saying be wary or be a
ware?” Rory asked as he sat down and patted his lap. Amber rose from her spot on the sofa and crossed to her fiancé, settling down on his lap to make room for Jayce and Kristine on the couch.

  “Depends. But let’s leave the teasing for now,” Amber said.

  “Indeed. It sounds as if there’s more to talk about, like finding possible family that we thought were lost forever,” Conlan said excitedly.

  Jayce crossed to the couch, holding Kristine’s hand, and the two of them sat close together. Jayce put his arm around her shoulder, and she cuddled into him. Amy remained on his other side.

  “So, how are we related?” Kristine asked.

  “We’re not positive that we are. Apparently there’s another dragon in town with the same yellow streak in his widow’s peak that you and I cover with hair dye,” Amy said.

  Jayce spoke up. “You mean Drake?”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “You know him?”

  “I work with him. Would you like me to call him and invite him over?”

  Rory grinned. “I’m afraid we beat you to it. He said he’s having dinner with the Mrs. and he’ll be over directly.”

  Conlan reseated himself in the armchair next to the couch and gazed at Amy, who sat adjacent. It was hard to miss the chemistry between them. Kristine wanted to be happy for her mother, if she had finally found someone special, and another dragon meant they wouldn’t have to explain themselves. That was always a big problem when a relationship with a human reached a serious point.

  “So, tell us about yourselves,” Conlan said.

  Kristine took a deep breath and sighed. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “Maybe we could start at the present and work backward,” Amy suggested. “I’ve already told them we’re from New York and that you’re a firefighter and I’m an actress…perhaps a former actress,” she said sadly.

  “I understand you’re in a spot of trouble,” Conlan said. “But you never elaborated on what that might be. Mayhaps I can help.”

  Amy leaned back and gazed at the ceiling. “You don’t ask easy questions, do you?”

  “Forgive me. I don’t mean to pry, but if there’s anythin’ I can do…” Conlan seemed genuinely concerned for their well-being.

  Amy smiled. “That’s very kind of you. But I think we’ve done what we had to do, mainly getting out of New York and finding a safe place to stay for a while.”

  “And how long is a while?” he asked.

  Amy shrugged. She looked over to Kristine, who also shrugged.

  Jayce cleared his throat. “I wasn’t going to bring this up right away, but I was thinking perhaps Boston would be your home from now on.”

  Kristine leaned away from him, shocked. “That’s quite an assumption on your part. Our lives are back in New York. My mother acts on Broadway and teaches at an acting school, and I don’t think you have a branch here. After all that’s happened, it’s tempting to want to relocate, but I won’t be run out of my city, and my firehouse, which I’m also quite attached to.”

  Jayce let out what sounded like a frustrated breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything yet.” When the doorbell rang, he mumbled, “Saved by the bell, literally.”

  Amber jumped up off Rory’s lap. “I’ll get it.”

  Everyone waited quietly until they heard Amber welcome Drake. She escorted him into the living room, and he began shaking hands.

  “I think you know most everyone here,” Rory said. “But let me introduce you to our newest guests, Amy and Kristine Scott.”

  They both jumped to their feet. Drake walked over to Amy and shook her hand and then crossed to Kristine and shook hers as well. The usual pleasantries were exchanged but with a bit more animation. He did indeed sport the yellow streak in his widow’s peak that matched their own.

  “Kristine and I conceal our marks with dye, but if we didn’t, we’d have the very same mark you do!”

  “This is exciting,” Drake said. “I thought I was the last of my clan so kept the mark visible, just in case. I thought I had lost every family member I had, and now, if I heard right, it looks like I may have found some again.”

  Amy pulled him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit down next to Jayce, and she sat on the arm next to him…even closer to Conlan.

  Amber said, “I’ll get you another chair.”

  “I’ll get it,” Drake said.

  A moment later he returned with two chairs from the dining room. Drake sat in one, and Amber settled in the other, while Amy returned to her spot on the couch.

  Kristine leaned across Jayce, focusing on her mother. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she whispered. “We may not be related—”

  “Aye. You’re quite right,” Drake said with a very slight Scottish accent. “We should compare facts first. My family came from Scotland many years ago and settled in Nova Scotia, Canada.”

  Amy’s eyes widened, and she slapped a hand over her heart. “I was born in Scotland, and later I went to Nova Scotia before settling in New York. When did you go to Nova Scotia?”

  Drake smiled broadly. “About four hundred years ago.”

  “And what is your last name?”

  “Cameron,” Drake said, hopefully.

  Amy shook her head. “I don’t know of any Cameron relatives.”

  “My parents met in Canada.”

  “And they were both dragons? What are the odds?” Amy wondered quietly.

  Rory cleared his throat. “If I may…Conlan and I were wonderin’ if we dragons all might be related. Conlan and I are cousins. Our fathers were identical twins. However, they had a younger brother as well.”

  Conlan added, “Apparently our uncle left for parts unknown.”

  “Why did he leave?” Amy asked. “And when?”

  Rory cleared his throat and adjusted in his seat. “There was a bloody battle over the rule of Ballyhoo about a thousand years ago. Many died, but in the end my father defeated Conlan’s father.”

  “Meaning he killed his own brother. All over a castle and a piece of dirt on the cliffs of the Atlantic Ocean. That’s about all that was left after the battle.” Conlan clasped his hands, as if in prayer.

  The mood of the room turned somber. Rory took a deep breath. “We’ve put all that behind us now, right, cousin?”

  Conlan nodded sadly. Then his countenance brightened. “Not without some good old Irish family drama, though.”

  Rory laughed. “Me sisters and I stayed in Ballyhoo, Ireland—we’ll tell you about our cousins’ return from Ulster another time.”

  “So what did you do, brave dragon?” Amber asked Rory. “Did you fight with your father?”

  “No. I wanted to, believe me. But me father ordered me to stay below in the caves with me mother and sisters. He didn’t want to leave the women alone and vulnerable.”

  Conlan laughed. “Aye. Me brother, Aiden, saw how vulnerable a female dragon could be when he was fightin’ for his life with Rory’s sister Chloe last summer.”

  Amber smirked. “I remember. But let’s get back to the original battle—the one between your fathers…”

  “A few years after me father was declared victorious, our parents left me in charge of a crumbling castle, two young sisters, and a couple of humans in a caretaker’s cottage.”

  “Meanwhile,” Conlan added, “me brothers and I moved north with our widowed mother and settled near Belfast in Ulster.”

  “And you’ve done quite well there,” Rory said. “They own a distillery that makes some of the finest whiskey you’ll ever taste. Who would like a dram?” Rory rose and walked over to the small bar in the corner.

  “I think we could all use some…but only a little,” Amber said.

  “Why? Is it very strong?” Amy asked.

  Amber shrugged. “One never knows what will happen during Irish family reunions.
I figure a little whiskey might settle the nerves. A lot of whiskey might have the opposite effect.”

  “Oh. And of course our Scottish families are so much better behaved.” Amy exchanged a grin with Drake, who laughed.

  “Ah, so we are related,” he said.

  “Let’s figure this out,” Amy said, animatedly. “What do you know about your family, Drake?”

  “I was told that my great-grandfather was the dragon thought to be the last on earth. The one St. George was credited with slaying—although it pains me to call the man a saint. My great-grandmother was pregnant with twins at the time and fled north, finally settling in the Highlands.”

  Amy gasped. “I was told something similar. Except the pregnant dragon was my mother—your grandmother, Kristine. I was sired by a different father fifteen years after the twins.”

  “So, if my grandfather was the missing Irish uncle,” Kristine said, “we could all be cousins—er, second cousins, or first cousins once removed… I don’t know how it goes, but we might be related.”

  Drake cleared his throat. “I know I should never ask a lady this question, but how old are you both?”

  “I’m about eight hundred or so. We didn’t keep records in the Scottish caves. Kristine is twenty-six.”

  “I’m about five hundred. Like you, I have no real birthday recorded,” Drake said.

  The room grew quiet as everyone glanced at each other and tried to put some kind of extended relationship together.

  “Why don’t we throw out some names?” Rory asked.

  Drake went first. “My mother’s name was Mary, and my father’s name was Faelen.” Jayce had coughed when Drake said his father’s name, and Kristine wasn’t sure she’d heard right.

  “Did you say his name was Fang?”

  Drake laughed. “Actually, I said Faelen.”

  Amy shot to her feet. “Mine too! You must be my brother. My little brother.” She began to cry. “No, wait. You were told Mary was your great-grandmother.”

  Conlan spoke up. “Sometimes what we’re told and the truth are a wee bit different. When dragons move around, they often change their names to hide their longevity. Or they invent or eliminate knowledge of a generation altogether to protect their secret.”