Enter the Dragon

by Lexxie Couper

  Arriman grunted. “When you put it like that…” With a nod of his head at Reece, he collect Perkins’ crossbow off the floor, scooped up Perkins’ limp body, slung it over his shoulder, and then pulled open the front door. “I’ll be back.” A small smile played with his lips. “Don’t forget to find those tiles for me, okay?”

  Kellan chuckled, his guilt at what had happened to Perkins, a man he’d worked with for three months, beginning to slip away. How many dragons had he killed? How many lives had he taken? The moment Perkins chose the life of an Extraho Venator, he’d known it was potentially a fatal one. “I’ll get them as soon as I can.”

  Arriman dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Take care, Kel. Have fun,” he said, and stepped through the open door, pulling it closed behind him.

  “So that’s Arriman Drake?”

  Giving himself a little shake, Kellan turned to Reece. “Yeah. That’s the famous Cleaner.”

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  Kellan let out a short sigh. “I think so. He’s got a reputation for being a ruthless bastard when needed. I think we just saw why.”

  Lips pursing, she studied the closed door, and then flicked Kellan a mischievous look. “Y’know, his grin isn’t anywhere near as sexy as yours.”

  A wave of warm delight washed over him and he preened, even as he tried to play it cool. “Is that right?”

  Oh, who was he kidding? His Fire Mate had told him he had a sexy grin. He didn’t have to play it cool at all.

  Beaming wider, he slid his hands around Reece’s waist and smoothed them up her back, tugging her to him. “As far as first meetings go, this was…different.” He lowered his head and brushed a gentle kiss on her smile. “Sorry about that.”

  Laughing, she snaked her hands up his back and tangled them in his hair, tugging him back to her as he moved to straighten. “Don’t you dare apologize. I think I learned more about you in the last…how many hours has it been? I have no idea. I learned more about you in the short time since you walked onto my set than I could have in years with a human.”

  “And? What did you learn?”

  “That you’re brave, funny, intelligent, protective, respectful and kind.” Her eyes flickered iridescent green. “And as fucking hot and sexy as all hell, and you give the best orgasms ever.” She rose up onto tiptoe and pressed her forehead to his even as her hands danced down to his butt, grabbing it with a far-from-gentle squeeze. “I’m totally okay with that.”

  “Only okay?” he murmured, as a river of liquid heat flooded his groin.

  “Hmmm.” She rolled her hips, pressing the flat plane of her lower belly to the growing ridge in his jeans. “Ask me again in a few hundred years or so.”

  “Deal.”

  He kissed her.

  Thank God he was a firefighter, because he planned to spend those next few hundred years setting them both alight with blue flames as often as he could.

  The End

  Dragon, Interrupted (Fire Mates, Book Five) Available Here

  Thank you

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  More Romance From Lexxie Couper…

  Fire Mates Series

  Sera’s Dragon

  How to Love Your Dragon

  Crouching Tigress, Sexy Dragon

  Dragon, Interrupted

  See the full book list…

  First Chapter Preview: Dragon, Interrupted

  Fire Mates, Book Five

  She’s human. He’s a dragon shifter. She’s fierce. He’s alpha to the core. They’re fated to be together. Heaven help the dragon hunter after him…and the obsessed stalker after her.

  Dragon, Interrupted

  (Fire Mates, Book Five)

  Available Here

  “I so wish I was that bike,” Jilly murmured, her gaze tracking the hunk of inked-up hotness ride past her apartment on a blood-red Harley.

  “What?”

  Jilly blinked. Oh God, had she uttered the words loud enough for Derek to hear?

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. Shit. Derek would be horrified. As much as she adored the guy, her friend could be a tad…prudish.

  Plastering an innocent expression on her face, she turned from her living room window and looked at him. “What what?”

  He frowned. Narrowed his eyes at her. “You said something about a bike.”

  “Oh, that. It was nothing.” Cheeks burning hotter, she smoothed her palms down over the fronts of her thighs, and then jerked them away her legs. Damn it, why was her stomach getting all tingling at the touch? Again?

  Every morning for the last two weeks, she’d watched the hunk on the Harley ride past her home, and every one of those fourteen mornings she’d found herself feeling tingly and aroused after he disappeared from her sight.

  Every morning after he disappeared, she took care of that tingly horniness with the aid of her battery-powered good friend, Mr. Rabbit.

  Of course, she couldn’t very well put Mr. Rabbit to work right now, could she. Not while Derek was here.

  “Nothing,” she repeated, giving him a shrug.

  “Nothing?” Eyes narrowing even more, Derek hurried over to where she stood. “Nothing is making you blush. I don’t believe you.”

  He looked out the window, his gaze darting around what lay two stories below.

  Jilly fidgeted on her feet. The building sexual ache that always followed her admiration of the unknown Harley rider burned hotter this morning. More insistent. Demanding.

  Wow, if she touched herself right now—

  “The dude on the bike?” Derek wondered, casting her an askew smirk. “Is it the dude on the Harley? Really?”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked, trying to sound surprised and confused as she returned her attention to the world beyond her window.

  Yep, there he was. Waiting for the traffic light to turn green. She could almost hear the powerful thrum of his bike’s engine. Could almost feel its throbbing vibrations between her thighs.

  God help her if he ever swung his head in her direction and found her drooling all over him. She would probably orgasm there and then.

  “Well,” Derek said beside her, “it’s either him or the geriatric on the mobility scooter on the sidewalk, and if it’s the geriatric, I’m worried.”

  Jilly snorted out a nervous laugh, even as her stare slid back to the hunk.

  Stomach tightening, sex fluttering, she studied him.

  Sexy as sin in black leather pants and a sleeveless black leather vest that showed off the muscular perfection of his arms, he could easily have stepped directly from her deepest sexual fantasies.

  Long blond hair hung down his back in a thick plait. Stubble roughened his chiseled jaw. Dark sunglasses wrapped his eyes.

  Licking at her dry lips, Jilly moved her gaze to the pièce de résistance—an exquisitely detailed and amazing tattoo of an emerald-green dragon extending from the top of his right shoulder down over his upper arm. As always, the sight of the dragon—its power and ferocity and beauty—made her pulse quicken.

  Years of studying for a Masters in Norse Mythology meant she was well-versed on dragons. And Vikings. The sexy Harley rider embodied both of her favorite things, all wrapped up in one delicious, wicked package.

  “Hey?” Something hard nudged her ribs. “Are you listening to me?”

  She jerked her stare back to Derek, fresh heat flooding her cheeks. “What?”

  Oh God, what were the chances he would ever let her live this down?

  Derek rolled his eyes. “You need to find a boyfriend, Jilly Parker,” he muttered, shaking his head as he moved away from the window.

  Jilly flicked a quick glance at the window. A heavy weight settled in her stomach at the green traffic light she found.

  Her biker
with his dragon tattoo was gone.

  Maybe tomorrow she’d wait outside for him to drive past and flash a sign at him saying, Take me. I’m yours.

  A wry snort tore at the back of her throat. Even if she did, he wouldn’t. A hunk like that wouldn’t look twice at a girl like her. What with her size-fourteen jeans and curves that had long ago stopped being lush and voluptuous and now bordered on—

  “Earth to Jilly.” Derek snapped his fingers in front of her face, expression exasperated. “Come in, Jilly.”

  She swiped his hand away with a wave of hers, pulling her own frustrated face. “You need to tell me why you’re here,” she said, stomping away from the window. Tea. She needed a cup of tea. If Derek insisted on being here, tea would need to suffice instead of her vibrator. At least until Derek vamoosed. “I’m meant to be meeting Nadine for coffee in an hour and you’re holding me up.”

  A cushion smacked into her back. “Have you not been listening to anything I’ve said since I arrived?”.

  She snatched up the cushion from the floor and tossed it back at him. “No.” She resumed her stomp to the kitchen. “I’ve been ogling geriatrics on mobility scooters.”

  “You haven’t heard about the dragon sighting? Seriously?” Derek followed her, his burly bulk filling the small space before he hoisted himself up on the counter to gape at her. “The whole roof-of-a-warehouse-bursting-out-and-a-dragon-flying-away thing?”

  Jilly frowned. “Are you serious? That’s a thing in the news?”

  Derek nodded. “The official word is it was a promo stunt for some TV show about dragons that’s getting a prequel or something. At least that’s what’s being tweeted. From the video footage I’ve seen on Twitter and Instagram, the dragon is freaking amazing. If it is for a show, the budget must be huge.”

  Reaching for her kettle, Jilly tried to ignore the flutter of delicious heat in the junction of her thighs at the word dragon. An image of the hunk on the Harley with his dragon tattoo filled her head. Her pulse quickened. Her clit throbbed.

  Ah man, perhaps Derek was right? Maybe she did need a boyfriend? Nadine—her friend and co-worker—had been saying the same thing for some time now.

  She filled the kettle, set it to boil and then leaned her hip against the counter and studied her friend. “So you’re here to talk to me about some TV show promotion gimmick? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  Swinging his legs, he snagged an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it.

  Jilly watched him, tapping her foot with melodramatic exaggeration.

  He chewed, contemplated, chewed some more.

  “Well?” she finally said. The heat in her girly bits thanks to Harley Dragon Hunk had begun to fade. For some reason, she felt angry about that.

  Derek swallowed with just as much drama and exaggeration as her foot tapping and grinned at her. “I’ve got a job for you.”

  She blinked. “What kind of job?”

  A Masters in Norse Mythology didn’t exactly open employment doors, a fact her estranged mother had pointed out all those years ago before riding off into the sunset with Jilly’s ex-boyfriend.

  Derek raised the apple, opening his mouth.

  “Don’t you freaking dare,” she admonished, throwing a tea bag at him.

  It arced in the air with impotent trajectory and fell to the floor between them.

  Derek burst out laughing, bit the apple and then answered her with his mouth full. “It’s nothing that amazing. Just a temp thing at the pet shop on George Street. One of my clients owns it, and he needs a trustworthy person to look after it while he goes to the Perth for a funeral.”

  Removing the boiling kettle from the stove, Jilly frowned. “One of your clients owns a pet shop?” When it came to cake decorating, none finer than Derek could be found in Sydney. Nor any as in-demand and successful.

  He took another bite out of the apple, chewed and nodded. “He bought it for one of his girlfriends to pacify her for not leaving his wife. When the wife found out, he ended up with nothing but the pet shop. Oh, and the vacation home in North Queensland. And the yacht.”

  Jilly raised her eyebrows. “For a boring cake decorator, you have some very interesting people in your life, Sam.”

  Swallowing the last of the apple, he swung his legs and launched himself off the counter. “That I do,” he agreed. “But none as interesting as you. Now, do you want this job or not? I told Yuggie you were a natural with animals and had no problem dealing with poop.”

  Jilly thought of her options. Her current job was at a bookstore where the owner tried to feel her up every shift she worked, which meant she needed to slap Mr. Renner’s wrinkled, veiny, liver-spotted hands away from her butt and boobs twice a week.

  Running a pet shop had to be better than that, even with the poop.

  “I want it,” she said.

  He grinned. “Excellent. Now I’ve fixed this part of your life, I’ll see if I can track down the dude on the Harley for you. You need to get laid ASAP.”

  Jilly shoved him in the chest. “Get out of my life, moron.”

  He fell back, laughing. “Kidding, kidding.”

  Rolling her eyes, she pointed out the door with a smile. “Go.”

  Derek grinned. “Enjoy your tea, Parker,” he said, hightailing it out of her kitchen. “I’ll see if I can find out what TV show the dragon is for and snag us a set visit or something. Who knows, they might need a cake for the press party or something?”

  Dragon.

  The word ignited the fading throb in Jilly’s core, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

  She pressed her palm to her lower stomach. Her breath fell from her in shallow pants. Maybe she’d forgo the tea, since Derek had left.

  Perhaps she’d go put some mood music on, some Adele or Ed Sheeran, and then pull Mr. Rabbit out of the bottom drawer instead. Pull the curtains and—

  Outside her window, the sound of a motorbike’s engine under full throttle growled over the street noise.

  Jilly gasped. She knew that engine.

  Running to the living room, she pressed her palms and forehead to the window, a part of her mind scolding her for being so damn childish.

  The rest of her didn’t care. Her fantasy hunk with his dragon tat and black leather and scruffy beard and sublime arms had returned.

  Returned, and was coming to a halt at the traffic lights in front of her apartment.

  Oh boy.

  Arriman “Ari” Drake cut back a gear and flung his Harley around the corner, his blood hot and his pulse pounding.

  Not because of the Extraho Venator on his tail. Not because the dragon hunter had damn near dogged his every move for the last hour.

  Not because the cops involved in his current Cleaning job were being particularly annoying about the warehouse roof and wanted more cash than normal to lose the filed incident report.

  But because for the fourteenth morning in a bloody row he found himself riding down Harper Street when he had no bloody good reason to.

  And for the fourteen morning in a row, his cock had turned to a rigid pole in his pants for no reason he could fathom and a hunger bordering on unsettling flooded through him.

  So of course, where did he find himself again this morning?

  Riding down the street, not once, but twice. Twice.

  Not because he needed to, but because his goddamn body and a mysterious, pain-in-the-arse urgency forced him to.

  He could have headed in any number of directions trying to shake off the Extraho Venator, but the annoying bloody invisible tug on his groin had brought him this way.

  Down this street.

  Again.

  He was beginning to think someone was trying to lay a trap for him.

  Shooting a look over his shoulder, he searched for the irritating dragon hunter tailing him.

  No sign of him. Thank freaking god for that at least.

  Ari knew of this Extraho Venator. He was an imbecile with delusions of grandeur who called himself Blade but whose re
al name was Colin. Colin lived two hours north in Newcastle, but for some reason never hunted the dragons up there, and travelled almost monthly to Sydney to hunt the ones here.

  As yet, all Colin had managed to do was irritate the Sydney dragon-shifter population with his bumbling about asking random people if they knew where the “dragons hung out” while trying to bum a cigarette from them.

  Ari had kept an eye on him though, more out of professional courtesy than concern. As the region’s best Cleaner—a fixer who dealt with the fallout of any dragon-related issue and made it disappear—Ari liked knowing the comings and goings of any Extraho Venator in his area. Being a dragon shifter himself, Ari did not take well to hunters trying to kill his kind, no matter how inefficient they were.

  The fact Ari had somehow landed in Colin’s sights was an issue to be dealt with after finishing his current job.

  How Colin had actually stuck with him for so long today was anyone’s guess. Maybe it had something to do with the fact Ari kept finding himself drawn to this same bloody street.

  Throttling back his Harley, he returned his attention to the congested road. It wasn’t just a string of cars slowing him down now. The red light meant unless he wanted to run it—tempting—he had no option but to stop.

  Stop.

  On the street that inexplicably gave him a boner.

  Great. Excellent.

  His hog thrummed between his legs, as if the machine was as pissed as he was at being reined in.

  Shifting on its seat, he planted his right foot on the road and ran his gaze around the area, letting his other senses seek out whatever it may be that made this street so…so…arousing.

  No hint of the honeyed-sulfur scent of a female dragon, nor—for that matter—the musky-sulfur odor of a male one hung on the air. Nor could he detect the distinctive tinge of preternatural heat that accompanied the presence of a nearby dragon shifter.