by C C Dowling
Lyra raises a perfect eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I know her mother isn’t a dragon, and you must know it, too.” Angels and dragons are the only creatures able to resist the Siren’s Call. But only full-blooded angels and dragons. If Lyra’s ever used her power, Dhru wouldn’t have been able to resist.
Lyra scoffs. Her hands rest on her more than ample hips. The embodiment of pure sexual desire, I’d swear she’s part Succubus if I didn’t know better. “You know diplomats. Always trying to cover up their perceived mistakes. Dhamyan probably stuck his dragon dick in some underage Dharkling cunt he wasn’t supposed to. Maybe even someone of note, with position and power. Instead of shaming her, and her family, he hid it. Plus, you know how Dharkstars are about pure bloodlines. Pretentious, self-righteous pricks.”
Some of the hope I’d felt moments ago dissipates. Either Lyra doesn’t know, or she isn’t telling. Either way, I’m willing to bet that whomever Dhamyan fertilized with his seed carries more shame than an underage Dharkling.
A cool breeze caresses my skin, drawing my attention from my troubled thoughts. Light and flowing, as if walking on air, an Aurae sidles up to me and slides her hand across my chest. Her blonde, almost white hair fans out from her face, swirling on an invisible wind. Sky-blue eyes shine with the promise of pleasure. See-through wisps of silk flutter against her beaded nipples and brush against her thighs. She presses her lips lightly against mine. Slowly, awkwardly, I return the kiss. She tastes like sunshine and lightning.
Lyra knows me too well. Nymphs with control over the element of air are my favorite.
So why, when she drops to her knees and unbuttons my trousers, does a twinge of guilt surge straight to my cock, making it less hard? Less interested? I’m not shy about getting a blow job in a room full of others. No one here’s shy about that, and release is what I’ve needed for weeks. So why is it that all I can think about is Dhru? About how I’d rather it be her kneeling before me, her hand stroking my length?
“Is she not to your liking?” Lyra questions as her hand skims down my stomach and between my legs to help harden my length. “Perhaps you’d prefer another, or a Fae with the anatomy to match yours?”
Fuck. If I don’t get my mind off Dhru, I’ll get us both killed.
Helping the Aurae to her feet, I glance at Lyra, then her. “She’s fine. Better than fine. She’s perfect.” So why do I feel repulsed at the thought of my cock in her mouth, inside her? “I’ve got too many things on my mind,” I say, more to convince myself than anyone else.
Tilting her head, Lyra looks at me, into me. By the Fae, I pray she doesn’t see what drives my need. “Some privacy, then?” She waves her hand toward a corner couch with drapes that provide a thin layer of anonymity from the other customers.
“Yeah,” I say, determined to make this work. I have to get Dhru out of my system. This has to be the best way to do it. It has to. “Privacy.”
“I need to make my rounds,” Lyra says, leaving me in the more than capable hands of the Nymph. “Take as much time as you need, and if you want someone else, let Aea know. She’ll fetch anyone you desire.”
Anyone I desire? If I could, I’d send her out to the bar to get the only person I want.
Taking her leave, Lyra nods to Aea. The Aurae leads me to the couch with a touch lighter than a feather. A strong wind pushes me onto it. The Nymph follows, her legs straddling my hips. I press my lips to hers in an attempt to feel something for someone other than Dhru. The kiss is rough, desperate—all the things I am in this moment. When her tongue meets mine, I recoil. Instead of the sweet exhilaration Auraes normally taste like, I taste only sour disappointment.
Reaching between us, her hand finds my cock. She does everything she can to make me ready. Only, I’m never going to be ready. Not for her. Not for anyone, but the one person I can’t fucking have.
I let a growl of frustration rumble my chest. Then I suck in a breath and gently push Aea off me. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head. She’ll never know just how sorry. “I can’t do this right now.”
I push to my feet and shove my cock back into my trousers, buttoning them up.
“I-I need some air.”
Pushing past her, I fling open the curtain and head for the door to the back alley, the irony of leaving an Aurae to get some air not lost on me.
Son of a bitch six ways to Sunday. Creed and Lyra know each other. They fucking know each other. More than know each other, they both speak the same crazy-ass language. About a million questions buzz around my head like a nest of angry hornets before a nasal, nails-on-the-chalkboard voice sends them scattering in every direction. Turns out, even my thoughts run screaming from Mindy’s voice.
“You’re late.” The sporty, blonde dancer—Lyra’s most requested girl—glances at her wrist watch. Seriously, besides Lyra, who even wears those anymore? “My daddy always said, if you’re not five minutes early, you’re late.” She sprays the bar top with cleaning solution and wipes it.
Stalking toward her, I lean over the bar and hook my finger under her bra, at the bottom of her shirt line. “What would your daddy say about his Miss Teen Louisiana being a drink-slinging prostitute?”
She slaps my hand away, but I’m faster than her. All she hits is air.
Her eyes narrow. “Same thing yours would say, if you had one.”
That might’ve bothered me yesterday, before I knew about any of the shit in my past. About what I am, or at least what Creed thinks I am. Today, I have a daddy, and that sorry asshole better not have shit to say about my profession. Nothing wrong with selling booze and sex. People use what they’re good at all the time to make a living. It isn’t any different for me.
“You two should just fuck and get it over with.” Walking behind the bar with a box of whiskey, Nephaedra rolls her dark eyes, made even darker by the black eyeshadow. The chain leading from her nose ring to her ear sways when she shakes her head. “At least that way, you’d both have something interesting to bicker about.”
“I’m down,” I say, though Mindy’s not exactly my type. Shit, right now, I don’t even have a type. I just need to get laid. To get Creed off my mind. The thought of him behind the curtain with Lyra rides every nerve, making me more on edge than normal.
“Ew.” Mindy crinkles her nose and goes back to wiping the bar.
“Your loss.” I shrug and grab a few trash bags. “Guess I’ll take these out back,” I offer, needing some hot Vegas air. Maybe that will clear my mind of all the very unpleasant, very sexual scenarios running through my head that involve Creed with someone not me.
Fuck. When did I become the possessive type?
“Make sure you don’t get confused and throw yourself out.” Mindy smiles in a way that suggests that’s exactly what she wants me to do.
“Honey,” I say, mocking her accent. “If anyone here’s trash, it’s you.” I wink and sling the bags over my shoulder, then kick the door to the back alley open.
Oven-roasted rot and piss assault my nose the moment I’m outside. That’s what Vegas air does to everything. Cooks the shit out of it.
The sun went down thirty minutes ago, but waves of heat vapor still radiate from the asphalt. Sweat collects on the back of my neck, but the heat isn’t uncomfortable—not in the way other people complain about it, anyway. In fact, it’s one of my favorite things about Vegas. Maybe that’s the dragon in me.
Shaking my head to clear that crazy-ass thought, I push open the lid of the dumpster and deposit the bags.
“Got a minute?” says a gruff voice I recognize.
“Shit!” I drop the lid of the dumpster. Slam! The noise echoes in the empty alley. “You scared the piss out of me, Aiden.”
Dressed in nothing more than a pit-stained wife beater tank, gym shorts, and flip flops, he stalks toward me, not making a noise. Damn, when did Aiden become all stealth? Though, granted, I’ve only ever seen him in action in bed. Or on the floor. Or against the kitchen counter. He wasn’t qui
et those times.
“Sorry,” he says, though his lips quirk in a way that tells me he isn’t. Not in the least.
“No, you’re not,” I say. His smile widens. His light brown bangs fall across his forehead in the sexiest way. It’s my favorite look for a dude. Well, that, and long hair with dark skin and silver filigree. Suddenly, I remember that I’ve been sober all fucking day. “Please tell me you’ve got something on you. A line. A pill. Hell, I’ll even inject I’m so desperate.”
“Good ole Dhru. Always after her next fix,” he says, judgment coloring his tone. As if he has a right. “Sorry to disappoint, but I didn’t bring anything.”
Aiden without drugs is like Syd without Nancy. I sigh. “You were bound to disappoint me sooner or later,” I mutter, but the look on his face tells me he heard. “What do you want, Aiden? I’m supposed to be working.”
“I know.” He closes the distance between us and uses his huge, bulky body to press me against the side of the building. His hooded eyes send tingles to my girly parts, triggering memories of what homeboy can do with his tongue. It rivals some of the women I know.
Maybe he didn’t get enough last night, either. Maybe, just maybe, Aiden’s a gift from a Heaven I don’t believe in, here to fuck me one last, good time before I ride the crazy train that is my life straight into another dimension. So why don’t I want him like I did last night?
The pressure of him against me makes it hard to breathe. My hands press his chest to give us at least some space. “Does Becca know you’re here? Did she tell you what happened?” Our parting this morning wasn’t on the best of terms. Actually, it was on asshole terms, with me being the asshole. Aiden had slept through it all. How, I still don’t know.
He shakes his head. “I’m not here because of her. I’m here for you.”
I push against him, harder this time. He doesn’t budge. “Hate to break it to you, but whatever you think we have between us, we don’t. You want one last fuck? Fine.” As soon as those words leave my lips, I’m not sure that it is. “But don’t think for a second that you and I are about to ride off into some fictitious sunset to a happily fuck-your-brains-out ever after.”
“What makes you think I want that?” The sexy smirk slides off his face, replaced by cold calculation. “You still think this is about me getting more pussy. Come on, babe. You’re smarter than that.”
Babe? The Aiden I know, the one I’ve been fucking for weeks, wouldn’t dare say that to me. He doesn’t even call Becca babe. Something feels off, though I can’t figure out what. Whatever it is, it makes my heart beat faster. Panic lights a flame in my stomach. The beast stirs, stretching its claws.
“What else would it be about?” I ask, and fuck if my voice doesn’t betray my fear. Aiden’s built like an ox. Like a body-building, steroid-using ox. I don’t stand a chance at resisting him if he tries to force something. Sure, I’ll go down swinging, but with Aiden, I’ll still go down.
“Dhru Dharkstar,” he says. Only, that’s not my name. Not to him. To him, I’m Dhru Nguyen. “You are, by far, the most self-indulgent dragon in existence. And that’s saying something, seeing as how I’ve met your father.”
Yeah. Apparently, everyone’s met my father but me. If that asshole’s true goal was to hide me, he failed. At least father-failure is something I’m used to.
What pisses me off more is that this douchebag, the one I’ve been fucking for weeks, knows my father. Knows about the dragon thing. Jesus, how many people in my life are not what they seem? Are not even fucking human?
I hate to admit it, but Creed was right. I shouldn’t have come to work.
“Too bad you won’t get to meet him.” Aiden takes a few steps back, giving me much needed space. A part of me hopes he’s about to let me go, that I’ll walk out of this alive. I tell that part to shut the fuck up and put on her ass-kickin’ boots, ’cause shit’s about to get real.
Dark shadows radiate from Aiden’s skin. Electricity charges the air around us. His mop of brown hair cascades around his shoulders and covers most of his upper body. Only, it’s no longer hair. It’s fur. The skin on his forehead splits open, as if making room for something to come through. Aiden’s body grows to almost twice its normal size—something I didn’t think was possible. Dude’s already mammoth. The muscles in Aiden’s arms and chest ripple and distort, the way I imagine mine do when the beast within wants out.
Oh, shit. Aiden’s about to turn into something from fairy tale-land. Where the hell is Creed when I need him? Probably balls deep in some cheap piece of ass. I don’t have to have been behind the red curtain to know what goes on in there. Everything goes on back there.
An ox. That’s what I’d thought Aiden was. Turns out, I was close. Two giant horns twist and curve around his skull, reaching for the sky. With the body of a Greek god and the head of a bull, Aiden can only be one thing, though this shit shouldn’t exist. He shouldn’t be real.
“A Minotaur? Seriously?” I curl my fists at my sides, ready for anything. Shit, for all I know, a fucking unicorn is about to ride in on the back of Pegasus donkey-fucking Athena to save the day. I look Aiden straight in the eyes as he lowers his head to charge. “Ah, fuck me.”
He bellows, or roars, or screams. Hell, I don’t know what Minotaurs do. All I know is that his deadly ass horns are on a collision course with my chest. Pushing with all the strength in my legs, I launch sideways as he connects with the building. His horns pierce the brick. Good thing that wasn’t my ribcage. I roll with the impact, expecting to get cut up from the trash and concrete in the alley. Instead, gunmetal-gray scales cushion my fall. Just as quickly, they disappear.
Stuck in the wall, Aiden flails, and snorts, and pulls. If only I had a knife or a gun, now would be the perfect time to fuck him up. Since I don’t have either, I head for the door to the bar.
I only take one step before my face greets the pavement. Twice in one day, a new personal low. “You ain’t going anywhere,” Aiden says, dusting rubble off his horns.
Pushing up on my elbows, I turn over on my back and try to scoot away. He grabs my ankle and twists. Crunching pain tells me I won’t be walking any time soon, dragon or not.
Aiden crawls over the top of me, horns aimed at my chest. His stench sends vomit to the back of my throat. Every breath singes my nose hairs. Aiden always smelled a little funky for my taste, like he was one shower short of being clean enough. I just thought he had a glandular problem, or hormones. Turns out, I was right on the gland thing.
“I’ve been waiting for your transition for weeks. Had to wait until you partially shifted to make sure you were dragon. Your energy was all wrong, until this morning. I knew, when I saw the burn on Becca’s sink, that I had the right girl.”
Shit. I forgot about the sink. Not that I can think of anything right now but breathing through my mouth.
“Don’t take this personally. You would shit yourself if you knew how much they paid me to off you. Not even you could blame me.”
Bet I could. “Who’s they? Who wants me dead?” I ask. I don’t expect him to tell me, but Aiden’s bull-headed enough he might let it slip. Plus, the longer I keep him talking, the more likely it is that someone will find us.
“Come on, Dhru. You know I can’t say.” Aiden slips a horn under my shirt, under my bra, and lifts. My bra snaps in half, leaving my nipples to rub against the shredded fabric of my shirt. Damn, those horns are sharper than they appear.
“What I can say is that, if this were up to me, I’d keep you around. No one parties like you, and it’s a shame to let a piece of ass like yours go to waste. At least I got some before . . . you know.”
Yeah. At least.
Aiden presses his weight against me, leaving me zero wiggle room. The fur on his body brushes against my exposed flesh, making me shiver with revulsion. The pungent, earthy scent of him permeates every fucking pore. He needs a serious shower, or a flea bath. Dick better have taken a dose of Advantage. No one needs to catch fleas from a Minotaur.<
br />
He rests his horn on my neck, just above my collar bone. “Wish I could take you up on the offer for one more go, but I’ve got people to see. Deals to make. You understand, right?”
“Really, asshole? Killing me conflicts with your schedule?”
Aiden pulls his head back, his horns following, and I know our conversation is over. If I really am a dragon, then there’d be no better time to go all scales and fire on his ass. But the only thing that escapes me as I face the fact I’m about to die is a scream. My heart beats out a furious rhythm in my chest. Fear tastes like bile on the back of my tongue. No, wait. That’s from his stink.
Well, Self. This is it. The end of Dhru Nguyen. Dharkstar. What-the-fuck-ever. The last thing I think about before I close my eyes—because who wants to look death in the horns—is that I didn’t get a chance to fuck Creed, rules be damned; rules and vows that sure in fuck aren’t going to save me now.
I swear, if there’s such a thing as reincarnation, I won’t make the same mistake twice.
In my hurry to get outside, I fumble with the door handle. As soon as I push open the door, the warm Vegas air and back-alley stench punches me in the gut. Hard.
Hunched over, I stagger out of the doorway. Scents don’t usually appear with fists and fur. I cough, inhaling another breath. Realization hits me across the jaw. Minotaur.
Shaking off the attack, I let rage kick my centuries’ worth of training into gear. But a scream, her scream, threatens my undoing.
“Aiden, you piece of shit! Get your ass back over here. Pick on someone your own size, pussy.”
Dhru pushes to her feet, limping when she turns to face the bull. She’s been back here, unprotected, with a Minotaur. Aiden. The boyfriend I’ve been watching for weeks. I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong with him. Now, I know. Must’ve used magick to cloak his energy. His smell.