by Marie Harte
“I…ah…” she stammered and paled, apparently realizing what she’d done. Instead of recanting, however, she looked down at the egg and blew warm breath over it.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m holding the egg. And for the record, he’s fine. He wants me, not Ja—the jerks who stole him, to take him back.”
Ranton stared hard at the egg, feeling the same thing. “He, you say?”
She shifted and he couldn’t help noting the plump softness of the breasts cushioning his charge. The demon was of average human height, with slim hips, a trim waist and ample breasts. Her sultry features made him think of the impetuous succubi, and he wondered at her nature.
For a dragon to cling so stubbornly—as his little charge did lying so peacefully against a demon—meant the female had something the dragons would want. Burning curiosity warred with Ranton’s need to mete out justice. Still, she knew the identity of the culprits responsible for his charge’s abduction. And he couldn’t let the slight pass.
“You want to return him? Fine. Come here.”
He held out a large hand, withdrawing his talons into mortal fingers as he did so. Still, the demon looked to flee, and the pleasure that afforded bothered him.
“If you run, I’ll find you,” he growled. “I’m losing my patience, little demon. Take my hand or suffer the consequences.”
A stubborn look flashed in her eyes, and he huffed a breath of fire, absurdly pleased she’d prove difficult.
“Look, Ranton. I understand you’re not happy. But this isn’t my fault. I’m going to return him to Carmaron’s nest. Hell, you can follow me if you want. But stop telling me what to do and back off.”
Ranton studied her form in comparison to his. Less muscle, more curves, and no doubt more pleasure packed into her tense frame.
Smiling, he showed curving white teeth, and watched as she hissed in response, her eyes flashing as her body began to shimmer, surrounded by blue flame. Most demons possessed some control over fire. But he’d never seen blue flames from the lower realm before. He’d never seen anything so intriguing, and had an uncontrollable urge to touch her.
“Back off?” he repeated softly. In the blink of an eye, he had her wrapped in his arms, her delicious scent making him almost lightheaded. She smelled like sex, like fiery passion, and he made a spontaneous decision. “I think not. It’s time you and your kind learned not to play with fire, little demon.”
She struggled, but not as hard as she might have had she not held the egg. Startled anew that she meant to protect his charge with her own safety, he held her tightly and flexed his wings. He allowed his scales to armor the outside of his body and his face, not questioning his resolve to maintain his softer, more comfortable flesh against the female, and took to the sky.
Her gasp of outrage, and if he wasn’t mistaken, fear, made him grin. If she thought flying a problem, wait until she suffered her punishment soon to come. Cries and screams wouldn’t do then. Nothing but unquestioning surrender would suffice.
Eve held onto the egg with all her might, trying her best not to freak out as she hurtled through the air at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. At least the dragon holding her close provided some much-needed heat, as well as a smattering of security. She hated heights and always had, and hoped Ranton would rather torture her slowly—on the ground—than drop her what looked like a bazillion feet to a painful, physical death.
The large, black dragon was every bit as impressive, and intimidating, as she’d heard. The rumors didn’t do the arrogant beast justice. She calmed a bit, considering. No, Ranton wouldn’t let her go so easily. Falling to her mortal death wouldn’t do much more than send her into another human body. The terror would be severe, but not particularly satisfying for a male so commanding. His heart thudded against her chest, his body’s massive blood flow only increasing his incredible strength.
Though it hadn’t been smart, when he’d thrown out commands, she’d rebelled. Eve hated being ordered to do anything, and she knew she and Ranton would butt heads. He shifted and she swallowed hard. If the erection prodding her belly was anything to go by, they’d be butting more than just heads.
Heat infused her, and Ranton clutched her tighter, pressing her firmly against his groin. The egg sighed with contentment, taking her mind from her sexual abductor, if for only a moment.
I’m keeping you resounded in her mind again, and she realized the thought hadn’t come from her, but from the being inside the egg. He, and how she knew it was a “he” she couldn’t explain, was in ecstasy sandwiched between her and the giant black monster taking her to hell-knew-where. Not that she didn’t feel a similar pleasure being so close to Ranton.
Not that she would ever admit it.
Seducing humans into finding their path through life was tolerable. Despite her human body, the demon within it needed more than physical contact to experience true pleasure. And though sex with demons could bring both physical and emotional bliss, it had never stirred her to an honest craving for another. Yet being so close to Ranton made her come alive in ways she couldn’t fathom.
Maybe I’m as much a perv as James. He’s Mister “Try Anything”. Maybe that’s my problem. I want what’s taboo. Dragons now, then what’s next? Angels? Ech. “That’ll be the day I depart the Ordinary for the lower realm for good.” She scrunched her nose. Angel sex sounded so…icky.
“Easy, demon. We’ve not yet come to my home. Save your terror for what awaits you there,” Ranton snarled over the wind.
She glanced up, taken with his pitch black features textured with glittering scales. His eyes were completely red, no irises or pupils showing. His nose had lengthened into a kind of snout. And when he spoke, she could see sharp, white teeth as long as her pinkie finger.
The alien contrast of his features to the soft skin covering muscled flesh enthralled her. Ranton could kill her very easily and held that strength in check. An incredible turn-on, and she couldn’t help looking away, confused, and more than wary at her deep attraction. Sure she was overpowered, but when it came to manipulating males, Eve was the expert. So why such concern over mastering a dragon?
Ranton slowed and circled over a dense area of rock on the ground. Glancing down, Eve could barely see more than rocks and a few trees under the glint of moonlight.
“What—”
He seemed to stop dead in the air, and she shrieked when he hurtled head first toward the ground. Everything blurred around them, and she closed her eyes tight, her body heating, pulsing with bursts of fear spiked with rage. Before she could share her unhappiness, however, they met the ground…and continued to move.
Falling into what felt like never-ending darkness, Eve felt anything but calm. Despite the similarities of this seeming limitless cavern to her ancestral home, the sensation of falling took away any hope of appreciation. Her stomach churned, her heart beat so loudly she swore she could hear it, and fear drowned her senses.
“Almost there,” Ranton growled, his large body like a flesh and bone prison.
A few more minutes passed, and Eve’s fear swelled to feverish proportions. The waiting, the anticipation of impact made her want to smash something. No, not you. She hugged the egg, soothing it with her fingers. The pad of her thumb accidentally brushed Ranton’s chest, and she tingled at the contact. Him. Ranton. That’s the one who’ll pay for this.
Gradually, Eve noticed that their descent seemed to slow, and a faint light took her attention when she was finally able to lift her head. Orange and red fires flickered along the sides of the cave and dotted areas of what looked like solid ground.
The closer they grew, the more she was able to view her surroundings. Dark brown dirt and gray stone mottled the floor upon which they finally landed. At several intervals around the large, oval-shaped chamber sat several torches and fire pots highlighting the scarred walls. Adding to the marks, Ranton held up a taloned hand and ran a nail along the carvings. Then he bl
asted it with a breath of fire. Apparently he was marking his entrance into the catacombs, the dragon’s main keep in the lower realm, a place she’d always wanted to see.
Her curiosity warred with her need to make Ranton pay. She never, ever, wanted to experience flight with him again. Falling for so long and from such a great distance felt like her personal hell come to life. And had she not known better, she might have thought Ranton in league with her father.
Glancing up, she saw him watching her and stiffened. She might be a “little demon” compared with his behemoth size, but she had one hell of a temper when riled. Setting her egg—the egg—down near one of the ground-set fires, she turned back to Ranton and willed her fury made flesh. Unholy fire consumed her, and she smiled with demon’s promise, her body bathed in ethereal flame.
“What?” Ranton asked with mock innocence. He changed back into the appearance of a man, disconcerting her. “You didn’t like the flight?”
His sarcasm pushed her past the tenuous limits of her control. Hellfire shot from her eyes and he swore as his skin began to burn. In the blink of an eye, black scales replaced his flesh. Red fire danced in his eyes, but he stared at her with more than anger. Curiosity, and a bit of…admiration…lingered in his gaze.
“That demon fire stings. And it’s blue. Not natural.”
“Screw natural. We demons lived here on earth long before dragons existed.”
“You have a temper, don’t you?” He crossed his arms, his eyes glinting with misplaced humor. “What’s your name?”
“Fuck you.”
“Your name, or an invitation?” He narrowed his gaze when she hit him with another blast of blue flame. “That’s twice, demon. Twice you’ve burned me, and twice I’ve let it go. I want your name, and I want the names of those who tried to steal my charge.”
They both glanced at the egg, and Eve felt the impulse to pick it up again, to pet it in soothing strokes of reassurance. Mine.
When she looked back up at Ranton, she saw his eyes had cleared and narrowed. Now black with striations of green and white, his eyes looked like hard agates. “Why is it he’s so taken with you? What do you have that calls to mine?”
“Mine? This is your egg? I thought it was Carmaron’s.” From what she knew of the dragons, Carmaron ruled their sect. A queen without a king who’d birthed two sons still living. Ranton led her warriors, ruler of the Legion. And his brother, Teban, reigned as prince in the mountainous region of the lower realm, over his kind and those banished from the Ordinary thousands of years ago. The blood elves, dragons and havoc lived in relative peace, or at least kept their discord private from their neighbors, the demons. The dragons cared little for demons and angels, and even less for the Ethereals’ responsibility, the humans.
So why had Ranton been above the earth? He couldn’t have tracked her idiot brothers so quickly. Could he?
“The egg is in my charge for protection,” he snarled, showcasing several blade-sharp teeth. “For that reason I’m not at all hesitant about doing whatever it takes to find my answers. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll set you free.”
Bullshit. The look on his face promised a harsh punishment, one he no doubt relished giving. “My name is Eve.”
“Eve.” He hummed her name, the reverberation of his voice like a cool caress in the stifling, humid air. “Do you know who I am?”
She shrugged. “Ranton, ruler of the Legion, son to Carmaron, and all around obnoxious dragon. I’m suitably impressed.”
His nostrils flared, and his body flexed, tensing muscle making his scales flash under the firelight. Her intention to distract him from questions about her brothers had worked. But at what cost?
“Impressed, are you? And I’ve yet to show you the real me.” He took several steps closer and walked around her to the egg. Picking it up, he held it to his heart and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His skin rippled, and the egg’s blue deepened until it looked almost black. “He wants you to see him home.”
She refrained from smirking. “I told you that before.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
The damned dragon did it again. In a preternaturally quick move, he grabbed her in his arms, set the egg in her hands, and flew down several overlarge corridors, past dark shapes blurred by the speed at which they traveled. Nearly dizzy, she didn’t realized they’d stopped until he held her by her arms to steady her.
“A demon who doesn’t like heights or speed. Odd.” He chuckled and once more reverted to a fully human form. “Place him in that bed there.” He pointed to a small fire burning within a nest of soft, nonflammable cloth that lay next to a gigantic square bed. Move over king-sized. That sucker was at least ten feet by ten feet.
“Eve?”
She started when he called her name, and realized she’d been focused where she shouldn’t have been.
“Don’t worry, Eve. We’ll get to that soon enough.”
She glared, but walked to the egg’s nest and set him down gently. The minute the egg settled she felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and sheer joy lit her being, remnants of the egg’s shared feelings.
“How does he do that?” She had to know. Eve knew several psychic demons, but she, like her brothers, had been born with other talents. Telepathy wasn’t one of them.
Ranton studied her, his intensity unsettling. Hunger had settled over his expressionless features, making him seem the ultimate predator. Yet he still hadn’t changed into his true dragon form, and she felt that omission more a warning to beware.
“Jentaron is my future king.”
Oh shit. Her brothers had really grabbed the wrong dragon.
“Nothing to say, Eve?” Ranton took a step toward her, and she had to force herself not to back away. She knew better than to show fear to a vicious predator. After all, she’d been standing up to her father for years.
She cleared her throat, aware the scent of him drifted closer, inviting her to step in his direction. “So royal dragons can share thoughts?”
“Some can.” He stepped closer. “My little king likes you, Eve. And if he could see, I could definitely understand why. Your human flesh does you justice.” He caught a strand of her hair. “Such soft, dark silk. And such bright blue eyes. A heady combination, especially in conjunction with your fire.”
She swallowed, hard. “I, ah, I wonder that you aren’t in your normal form. I thought dragons hated humans.”
“Some do. But I’ve found them exceptionally suitable for my needs.”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. “Needs?”
He smiled, a predator’s grin having successfully captured its prey. “Sex, Eve. A human performs the sexual act with great pleasure. Dragons are violent, functioning with a basic need to procreate. But in this form, the carnality of mating is intense.” He closed the distance between them. “The pleasure extreme. Surely you’ve found that to be the case in your work.”
“I’m not a succubus. Let’s get that straight.” She tried to step back, pride bedamned, and found her way blocked by a wall. How did that get there? “I’ve had occasional sex with humans, but only in order to sway them one way or the other. I hate to break it to you, Ranton, but humans overrate sex.”
“Oh?” He toyed with the neckline of her T-shirt, causing flutters of want to course through her blood.
“Hands off.” She slapped at his hand, and he caught it and held it above her head, pinned to the wall. “Ranton, I—”
“—will tell me everything I wish to know about yourself, and about the thieves that stole dragon property.”
“Property?” She sucked in a breath when his fingers caressed the swell of her breasts. Pure, erotic fire burned at his fingertips. “Jentaron is a life, not a property.”
“Semantics.” He shrugged. “What should you, a demon, care for dragon young?” His eyes narrowed into hard emeralds and she gasped when his fingers grazed her nipples. “Tell me, Eve, what does my charge see in you?”
&n
bsp; “I don’t know.”
He trapped her free hand pushing at his chest and added it to the one above her head. His large palm easily held both her wrists in place against the wall.
“Perhaps I see what held Jentaron in thrall,” he murmured and nuzzled her neck.
Eve wanted to run, fast and far. The incredible eroticism of his every touch should have been enough to warn her away. But the feelings engendered by the happy little egg sitting so near, as well as the unfamiliar tingles in her own heart, made her wonder what kind of dark spell this dragon weaved over her.
Ranton licked at her neck before nipping her, marking her, and her knees buckled. Her panties felt more than wet, her nipples pebbled into knots of need, and her womb ached for…Ranton.
None of it made any sense, but when she felt his knuckle brushing against the inside of her thigh, she instinctively spread her legs to grant him better access.
“That’s it, Eve.” The heat of his breath only added to his allure. “You’re hot, wet, and you smell incredible. Maybe that’s what captured little Jentaron. Your heavenly scent.”
“Not funny.” She tried to quell the moan building in her throat…and failed.
“Was that a moan I heard? From a demon no less?” Ranton chuckled. His hands left her and she heard his zipper rasp. He shifted his hips and she felt something hard, hot and heavy brush against her cloth covered belly. “Tell me, Eve, why you couldn’t leave the egg. Why didn’t you flee when you saw me? Are you as innocent in this deception as you say?”
She barely made sense of his words, her physical needs overtaking common sense, too focused on regenerating the pleasure of his touch.
Taking him by surprise, she fused her mouth to his. Hard lips met hers, and she gave no quarter as she snaked her tongue into his mouth, capturing his attention as she baited the dragon, tempting the beast.