Dragon Heat 1 - Dead Sexy Dragon (3 page)

shadow man. Her pussy contracted and clenched around

her fingers as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. He

grunted as if in pain and spilled his cum in ropy bursts.

Separated from her partner in exhibition, Cora was

suddenly gripped by the desire to touch his sweat-slicked

skin, to taste the salty cream now dripping from the blunt

head of his cock. She wanted to be held close and

caressed like some soft creature. She wanted to feel his

soothing breaths against her forehead and hear the

reassuring beat of his heart as she slept against his chest.

But none of those desires were to materialize.

As quickly as her dream lover had appeared, he

vanished. In the next instant, Cora woke and shot up off

her pillow. Trembling and sweating, she sucked in a sharp

breath. She wiped a shaky hand down her face. Her thighs

clenched with the last tremors of her fading orgasm.

Cora’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She’d just

had a wet dream in the room next to Stig’s. As a former

marine, he was bound to be keenly aware of his

surroundings. Had she cried out in her sleep? Oh God.

Had he heard her?

Groaning in humiliation, Cora flopped back against her

pillow and buried her face in the crook of her arm. How

the hell was she going to face him at the breakfast table in

the morning?

Chapter Two

Stig woke with a start. The built-in alarms on the locks

beeped incessantly and annoyingly. He smacked the

buttons in irritation and rubbed his face. The skin was

smooth, his scales banished by the rising sun. From the

ache along his left shoulder and hip, he surmised he’d

fallen asleep slumped on that side against the cold, wet

stone. Stig hissed in pain as he slowly climbed to his feet

and stretched the stiffness from his muscles and joints. He

yawned and reached high overhead. He’d survived one

night without complication. Only eight more to go.

As Stig gathered the lengths of chain and hung them on

their wall pegs, he was troubled by the vivid dream

snippets now flashing through his mind. He was a little

ashamed he’d conjured up such a dirty vision of Cora

touching herself. Despite the shame, Stig started to get

hard at the images of Cora sliding tongue-slicked fingers

into her tight cunt. Her breathless moans as she came rang

in his ears. The urge to work the head of his cock

overwhelmed him.

God! What kind of a pervert was he?

Stig shook his head, got dressed, and left the unlocked

chamber. He climbed the stairs slowly, his body still sore

from its night of punishment. He hesitated on the top step

and listened carefully. His highly acute dragon senses

picked up on the faint sound of Cora’s deep and relaxed

breaths.

Certain she still slept, Stig cautiously entered the

kitchen and quietly crept up to his bedroom. His gaze

hovered on Cora’s door. Standing in such close proximity,

Stig was overwhelmed by her scent. The light, bright

smell of freshly cut grass and some kind of citrus tickled

his nostrils. And there, even more powerful, was the musk

of sex.

That was a scent he hadn’t expected. Stig inhaled

deeply and confirmed his initial identification. The smell

of her arousal filtered through him, setting his body on

edge. He could practically taste her sweet pussy. His

tongue slipped out to wet his lips in anticipation. He took

a step toward her door before stopping abruptly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His harsh whisper

sounded incredibly loud in the quiet house. It was enough

to shake him from his lust-induced stupor.

With a gulp, Stig took a step back and tried to make

sense of his primal urge. He remembered his dreams. The

sight of Cora writhing atop her bed spurred his desire. A

troubling thought entered his mind. What if that hadn’t

been a dream after all? What if he’d connected with Cora

on a much more intimate level?

“Shit.” Stig turned on his heel and shut himself away in

the bathroom. He started a hot shower and peeled out of

his clothing. A quick glimpse in the mirror and he caught

the flash of his dragon’s reptilian eyes. The beast was

subdued during daylight but lurked and waited for his

chance to strike. If Cora’s smell made him ravenous with

need, how the hell was he supposed to control himself in

the same room with her?

With a groan of frustration, Stig stepped into the shower

and stuck his face in the bracing spray. The blast of hot

water cleared his foggy head. After a night forced into

dragon form, he always woke a little groggy and confused.

Hopefully a shower and some breakfast would allow him

enough time to get his dragon instincts under control. He

couldn’t risk behaving inappropriately with Cora—or

revealing his true identity.

Shit. Cora. What the hell was he going to do about her?

She couldn’t stay here—that was for damn sure. Until his

mating period ended, it was too dangerous to keep her

nearby. She spurred his arousal into dizzying heights. He

couldn’t imagine how strong his scent must have been last

night. Were it not for the safety of his lair, he’d have been

a bright shining beacon for the Knights who hunted his

kind.

Thankfully his human form produced very little dragon

scent of any kind. The sunlight burned away whatever

excess might have clung to him. In the old days, dragons

had used the precious daylight hours to move from hiding

place to hiding place, their scent signature masked.

Shunning—the practice of separating males about to go

into heat—had been common among the small tribes.

Separate one to save many.

By the dawning of the twentieth century, new

compounds were discovered by the alchemists among the

dragon communities that suppressed the heat phases. The

side effects were mostly intolerable and often dangerous.

Stig had requested the drugs to suppress his phases during

his military service. Because the Brotherhood of the Green

Hide—the dragons charged with protecting their species

from the slayers of the Knights of St. George—needed

intel and artifacts from areas like Afghanistan and the old

buried sites in Iraq, he’d been given permission to obtain

and use the compounds.

They’d very nearly killed him. After leaving the

service, he’d spent four months at Nico’s manor in a sort

of rehab. He’d sworn then that he’d never take the drugs

again. Locking himself up in the cell was better than going

through that.

Stig wrapped a towel around his waist and crossed the

hall to his bedroom. He paused in the doorway. The smell

of bacon and brewing coffee made his stomach growl. He

backed out and craned his neck at Cora’s door. It stood

open and revealed a neatly made bed and stacks of

luggage. He fought the urge to go inside and snoop. The

odds of finding anything in her bags to tell him why she’d

shown up on his doorstep were low. He’d rather not risk

being discovered rifling through her things.

The ring of his cell phone startled him. He snatched it

off the dresser and glanced at the display. It was Ignatius,

the oldest dragon of their cobbled-together tribe and the

head of the Brotherhood.

“Yeah?” Stig didn’t bother with the usual “good

morning.”

“Any problems last night?” Ignatius was gruff and all

business.

“No.” Stig didn’t hesitate. Mentioning Cora’s presence

would just piss Ignatius off, and that was the last thing he

needed right now. There was no reason for his very, very

old friend to get bent out of shape. Cora would be gone by

lunch.

“Good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The line went dead. Stig tossed his phone onto the bed

and made quick work of pulling on some jeans and a navy

blue tee. His work boots and belt completed his laid-back

ensemble. Finding out what had brought Cora to his

doorstep last night, complete with her entire apartment in

boxes, remained his top priority. If she was in real

trouble, he’d move heaven and hell to protect her, but if it

was something less pressing, she had to get out of his

cabin until his phase ended. As he dressed, Stig tried to

think of how to approach the subject of evicting Cora from

the guest bedroom. It sure as hell wouldn’t be easy.

Downstairs the delicious scents of a home-cooked

breakfast nearly knocked him off his feet. His mouth

watered with anticipation as he entered the kitchen and

swept his gaze over the table near the bay window. Plates

laden with his favorites took center stage: biscuits fresh

out of the oven, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon strips.

Apparently she intended to butter him up with food.

Frankly that was a-okay with him.

“Morning.” Cora smiled at him from behind the butcher

block island. Seeing her in the same light blue camisole

and striped cotton drawstring bottoms from the dream hit

him like a punch to the gut. She alternated scoops of

vanilla yogurt and berries into rocks glasses. “You don’t

have parfait cups,” she explained, and placed the glasses

on the table.

“Never needed them.” Stig poured a cup of coffee from

the steaming carafe and sat in his usual chair. He grabbed

a plate and piled food onto it. Across the table, Cora

served herself and sipped apple juice. Bringing up the

dreams seemed best done while they were occupied with

food. “You sleep okay?”

“Yes.”

Her clipped reply caught his attention. Despite her

downward gaze, the stain of a blush was evident on her

cheeks. His belly clenched. So that hadn’t been a simple

dream. His dragon had preyed on Cora’s psychic energy.

That type of thing had happened before but never in such a

sexual manner. In the close, cramped quarters at war, Stig

often found it impossible to keep from feeding off the

dream energy of his comrades. He’d joined his friends on

fishing excursions and football games and the like but this

thing with Cora? That was all new.

Cora held up a glass jar. “Where did you get these

raspberry preserves?”

Clearly she wanted to change the subject. “Farmer’s

market in town. They get together every Saturday morning

on the courthouse lawn.”

“I’ll have to check it out.” She painted a thin layer of

the deep red spread over a halved biscuit.

Her comment reminded him of the real issue at hand.

Best to approach the situation delicately. “How long are

you planning to stay?”

“Awhile?” She glanced at him as if to gauge his

response. “Maybe. Possibly.” She bit her plump lower lip

before continuing. Stig tried not to focus on the soft pink

flesh compressed between her teeth. If he did, things might

get a bit more heated than necessary. “I…um…the thing

is…I’m sort of in trouble.”

Stig’s ears perked. All thoughts of a lustful nature fled.

“Sort of?” He frowned. “You either are or you aren’t.

Which is it?”

“In,” she said quietly. “I’m really in the shit.”

“Money trouble?”

“Kind of.” Her sheepish expression told him there was

more to this story than he probably wanted to know.

Stig sighed and sat back in his chair. “No more ‘kind

of’ or ‘sort of,’ Cora. Just tell me what’s going on, okay?”

“Okay.” She exhaled heavily and launched into her tale.

“So you know how after Grams died, I inherited the

bakery, right? Well it turns out Hector was in a lot of debt

after he died. He’d started gambling, I guess. Underground

stuff.”

“Shit.” Stig shook his head and rubbed his jaw. Hector

had always been a little too fond of card games, races, and

dice but Stig had never imagined he’d get himself in that

kind of trouble. Then again, Stig hadn’t ever expected

Hector to plow his truck into a telephone pole either.

“Yeah. Deep shit,” Cora clarified. “A few weeks after

he died, these guys showed up at the bakery. They were so

scary.”

Stig heard the fear in her voice. It rattled his core. He

could just imagine what kind of lowlifes had shown up on

her doorstep. “What did they want?”

“Money. Lots of it. And I didn’t have it, Stig. The

bakery was barely in the black. All of the companies that

we depended on for business were closing down or laying

off their workers. My breakfast rush was hardly a trickle

through the door. Lunch was even worse. Catering orders

nosedived. And birthday cakes?” She shook her head.

“When families make cuts, businesses like mine are the

first to go.”

Cora went silent. Shame flickered across her face. Stig

sensed her reluctance. “Cora?” he prodded gently.

“You have to understand, Stig. I’d just lost my

grandmother and my brother within three weeks. I was so

confused and swimming in grief. I was desperate. I just

wanted them to leave me alone.” She blinked rapidly. A

glimmer of tears obscured her soft green eyes. “They told

me they wanted me to make some deliveries. They’d drop