DragonMaster (3 page)

She took it from him. “Won’t Miles
recognize this?”

“No. He’s never seen it.”

She opened the clasp and put the necklace
on. It was tight, like a slave’s collar, though tonight wasn’t the night to
dream of finding the perfect master and Chains wasn’t a likely place anyway

She stood and helped Kei to his feet. Her
worry flared at noticing his toes were shortening, his feet becoming more paw-like.

“I’ll have to go by my apartment. There’s a
dress code at Chains.” It meant a delay. Not that she’d stay in whatever she
put on for very long; few submissives ever did. But to get through the doors
she needed to show a little class.

“Wear one of my kimonos.”

Summer glanced at the clothes bar. “That’d
work. I have shoes in the car.” She stripped down to ultra-feminine black bra
and miniscule panties, glad she’d showered after riding waves. Kei talked her
through the process of dressing. Too late it occurred to her that the kimono
might be a dead giveaway as to why she’d shown up at the club but she dismissed
the concern. Chances were good Miles was already there and in the play area.
And she’d come up with something if he saw her wearing it.

She turned, catching sight of herself in a
mirror and hardly recognizing the woman in the black kimono with exotic silver
and gold flowers woven into it. Surfer-babe bartender now transformed into
high-end slave.

“I’d better get going.”

“If you get my
hoshi no tama
back
for me, I’ll owe you a favor.”

She shook her head. “No you won’t. We’re
friends, Kei.”

At the door he hugged her. His face had
narrowed, becoming more foxlike. She wondered how much longer he’d have the
ability to speak.

“You’ll be okay here?”

“Yes.” But he touched his forehead to hers.
“Be careful, Summer. Please be careful. Watch out for dragons.”

“Dragons, as in scaly fire-breathing
reptiles?”

His smile lightened her heart, even if it
was fleeting. “I haven’t been in this realm long. You met me only days after I
arrived. I can’t imagine a dragon hanging out at a BDSM club, but for treasure…
They’ll stop at nothing to get it and a kitsune’s
hoshi no tama
is a
prize.”

“How would I recognize a dragon?”

“I don’t know. Just beware.”

Chapter Two

By the Great Shared Ancestor, his patience
was at an end! In another second…

Pierce opened the door and motioned Jubal
into the office. A lucky thing. A near thing. Consequences be damned, he was
ready to scorch anyone and anything that stood between him and his intended
mate.

“It took a while to track her down,” the
fey lord said. “She’s on her way to Chains. Do you know of it?”

Know of it? He was a member.

The fury he’d been ready to direct at
Pierce now had a new target, any male who dared to touch what was his, not that
he’d allow Summer to enter the BDSM club tonight or anytime in the near future.

“Yes, I know it. She’s guarded?”

“No. You’ll reach her before any of
Severn’s guards would be able to. It seemed more prudent to let you decide
whether or not to involve other males.”

A slight bow of the head signaled Jubal’s
gratitude for the consideration. He exited the office, motioning for his cousin
Nisien to accompany him.

“Chains,” he said after Nisien had taken
the driver’s seat, both of them watching to make sure they weren’t being
followed by any of the other males seeking a mate.

“She’s there already?” Nisien asked.

“No.” And Fates willing, she wouldn’t step
foot inside Chains this evening.

It was a place both he and Nisien
frequented. Not that they considered themselves part of the BDSM lifestyle.
Such a label would be meaningless for a male dragon in his prime.

Dragons possessed. They completely owned
and thoroughly enjoyed what they claimed. True, they didn’t typically share,
but the females he played with at the club weren’t his and he had no desire to
make them so.

He visited Chains to sate physical needs
only, as did Nisien. Though his cousin’s sexual interest was directed
exclusively to males, not a common inclination among dragons.

The two of them found they enjoyed places
where clear lines between dominant and submissive had been drawn. Such
environments proved to be neutral territories where primitive needs could be
assuaged without worry that the magic holding them into a human form would burn
away.

Not tonight. He wouldn’t allow Summer to
enter the club. He’d intercept her and, if necessary, rake his mating spurs
across her skin and render her unconscious.

It wasn’t ideal. But it was better than
incinerating everyone at Chains. This night he and his mate would play games of
dominance and submission in the privacy of his lair, either in this realm or
the one belonging to dragons.

In the future they might occasionally come
to the club, as a treat should his mate wish it. And during intimate get-togethers
with his kind, he would enjoy having her naked, admired by other dragon males,
her body on display because it pleased him even as it gave their guests hope
that one day they would possess an equally fine human mate.

His cock throbbed at fantasizing about it.
At seeing himself casually caressing her as the others watched, scenting her
arousal and growing hard because of it. One scene merged into another, only to
end with abrupt unpleasantness when the club entrance came into sight and he
saw her there, her ease with the doorman and body language suggesting they were
friends.

There would be no waylaying her outside
Chains.

“We’re too late,” Nisien said, speeding up
as Jubal cursed the Fates for making things so difficult. A few moments sooner…

A growl vibrated in his chest, though it
was sheer madness to torment himself with images of any other male having
touched his mate. He understood now why the ancients had always preferred
virgin sacrifices when it came to the females offered to them by villagers who hoped
to avoid having their homes and barns razed to the ground by dragon fire.

The door opened and Summer disappeared into
the club. A moment later Nisien screeched to a halt with enough force to rock
the rare automobile it had taken Jubal over a year to acquire.

He didn’t care. No treasure could compare
to that of a mate. Nothing in his vast hoard would ever hold his interest as
thoroughly as Summer.

He exited the car, her name pulsing through
him, not flash fire but a continuous wave of molten desire and heated
determination. He’d claim her this night. Mate with her so she’d never doubt
who she belonged to.

The door to the club was opened for him.
Need slammed into Jubal at being only strides away from her, at encountering
lingering traces of her scent. She smelled like moonlight and—

His lips pulled back on a barely suppressed
growl of unadulterated rage. She wore another man’s clothes, the fine material
saturated with another’s scent.

Red edged his vision. Fury pounded in his
head and chest like a primitive drumbeat.

It took the entirety of his will not to
order her to strip, though had he done so, he doubted she could comply before
he reached out and ripped the offending garment off. He choked back dragon
flame, breathed deeply lest smoke escape flared nostrils.

She knew the woman working behind the
counter as well. It was there in the casual way she leaned against the
beautifully crafted wooden barrier.

“Normally I’d let you in, Summer,” the
woman said. “In a heartbeat. But tonight’s a semi-private event. No guest
memberships, even for unclaimed subs. Word came down that there were already
enough of them on the floor. My advice, hang out here in the lobby. Some master
who’s a member will snap you up and take you in.”

“That master will be me,” Jubal said, satisfaction
blazing through him at seeing his intended tremble in reaction to his claim, at
scenting the way she’d become aroused at the sound of his voice.

She turned, and
he
was the one who
nearly went down on his knees in a gesture of supplication. By the Great Shared
Ancestor, Lyra’s picture of her sister hadn’t fully captured how exquisite she
was, how desirable.

For one bold moment she held his gaze then
her eyelashes fluttered, lowered, as did her head. Her body softening, inviting
a master’s touch, a master’s caress of acknowledgment, and he couldn’t deny
either of them that contact.

He cupped her cheek, heard the catch of her
breath as the scent of her arousal deepened. His cock thickened, already
fighting the magical constraints forcing it to look like a human penis instead
of what it was, a dragon’s.

Her head turned slightly, enough to press a
kiss into his palm. And he crowded closer, as if nearness alone could
obliterate the smell of another male’s clothing.

“You will be my exclusive property.”
Tonight.
Tomorrow. Forever.

“Yes, Sir,” Summer whispered, shivering,
unable to deny the request.

She could lie to herself, tell herself she
needed to get into the club sooner rather than later. That waiting for another
master, one who’d be far easier to deal with than this one, might mean losing
the chance to get the star ball back, but the truth was she wanted to be this
man’s exclusive property.

Everything inside her screamed it. With his
voice alone he’d reached inside her, caught up her desire to please in a firm
hand as no other dominant ever had.

I won’t let Kei down
, she silently pledged, trusting herself not to get so lost in the
scenes about to unfold that she’d forget her reason for being at Chains. She’d
hoped to get in unclaimed, because it would make things easier. But all along
she’d counted on winging it, making her plan up as she went.

Her eyes cast down, she took immense
pleasure in the bulge at the front of what she imagined must be very expensive
trousers, a straining of material that seemed to grow at having her note how
well-endowed he was.

He chuckled, the sound deep and assured, as
if her effect on him came because of his ownership, because contemplating what
belonged to him aroused him, and not because of any power she held over him. His
hand moved from her cheek to her nape, tightened in a message of ownership, a
dominance she felt to her toes.

His firm grip held her upright when natural
inclination urged her onto her knees. Heat radiated from his palm, sliding into
her nipples and cunt. Centering there though all of her felt flushed, anxious
to please.

A quiver went through her belly. “What
should I call you?” she asked.

“So that we are not strangers, I will give
you my name. Jubal. But you will call me Master. Say it.”

“Master.”

It was whispered acknowledgement as well as
a plea for him to see what he owned, to imprint his scent on her, to apply his
will and take control of not just her body but her soul and heart.

She felt his attention shift elsewhere and
everything inside her cried to regain it. A buzzer sounded and relief swept
into her at knowing he’d merely looked away to signal that he wanted to enter
the non-public part of the club.

He moved, opening the door. “Precede me. We
will use one of the private dressing rooms.”

She was intensely aware of him behind her.
Heat poured off him, or rather, being in his presence created an inferno inside
her. She was already wet, wetter than she could ever remember being, limbs
trembling and heart racing.

They reached an open doorway. She entered
what could pass as a small sitting room except for the row of beautifully
crafted cabinets in which valuables could be stored and locked away.

“Strip.” The command was terse, raw, as if
he took offense at her clothing.

She dared to glance up, accompanying the
look with a silent question as to what he expected of her beyond compliance.

He rewarded her by cupping her chin, his
thumb a heady caress across her lips, a touch that made her channel clench and
her heart ache for more.

“As much as it pleases me to hear you
acknowledge what I am to you, there is no need for you to say anything when
ready obedience speaks for itself.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, the words
resonating through her.

Always before she’d used Sir when playing,
saving this word for a man who could do to her what this one had managed with
his unseen presence alone, touch the very core of her, so all she wanted to do
was surrender control and by doing it, serve him, please him.

She would have dropped her own clothing to
the floor without care. But the kimono was too beautiful to treat with such
disregard.

Nervousness poured into her with his
scrutiny. She could tell the gentleness with which she handled the garment
bothered him.

Aggravation pulsed off him, making her
trembling increase before becoming the shiver of anticipation at glancing
through her lashes to see his eyes darken and heat with desire as she removed
bra and panties, baring her body to him.

His gaze was a hot stroke against her
flesh, lingering on each inch of skin and radiating possessiveness. He liked
what he saw and she was glad she’d been blessed with looks that pleased them.

Ache intensified in her nipples, the small
rings in them an invitation for a master’s sensual torment.

The silence in the room grew heavy, heat
taking on weight and imperious command. She sank to her knees, buttocks touched
to her heels, head down and arms behind her back, the pose thrusting her
breasts forward in a submissive’s hope of gaining praise, her body already
craving his physical demonstration of it.

“Did I not order you to strip?”

Confusion gripped her. She dared a glance
upward so he could see the question on her face though the hesitancy in her
voice conveyed it as well. “Yes, Master.”

“Remove the necklace.”

Her breath seized. Her heart skipped and
raced, a chill sweeping her flesh. Her hands opened and closed behind her back
in the phantom ringing of a bar cloth, habitual delay while she tried to find
the right words, finally managing to force them out. “I’m sorry, Master, but I
cannot.”

Displeasure thinned his lips and tightened
his nostrils. She cringed inwardly, hating to be the source of it.

“Cannot or will not?”

“Cannot.” And because it was truth, she
added in a whisper, “It is not negotiable, Master.”

Lowering her eyes, she stole a glance at
the front of his trousers, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind and return her to
the lobby. The thought of it caused near-panic, and not solely because of her
purpose in coming to the club.

It felt as though her heart beat against
the jewelry she wore in her nipples and navel and hood, ratcheting up the
intensity of her worry and her awareness as she waited for him to either accept
the hard limit or end their night together.

Jubal fumed. A man had given her the
necklace. He knew it with every fiber of his being.

He wanted to roar, to rip the offending
collar from her neck, because that’s what it looked like to him, some male’s
claim of ownership. But if that was so, then what was she doing in this place?
Why had she come here?

He didn’t like the answer the questions
elicited, that she sought entry tonight because the man she mistakenly believed
she belonged to was at the club.

Jubal suppressed a growl, though sending
her fleeing, if it meant he could capture her outside the club, would have been
a welcome outcome.

She wouldn’t leave. Wouldn’t go beyond the
lobby. It was there in the lines of her body along with her worry he might set
her free. As if!

“Your safe word is Enos. Use it and we are
finished.”
Period
.

One way or another he would remove her from
the club. Let the cursed sound of the wizard’s name signal an end to this
madness.

She shivered, trembled, and it was a call
to comfort he couldn’t deny. He might be her master, but already the power of a
dragon’s mate exerted itself.

He stroked her hair. It was long, like his,
reaching down to the middle of her back, and remarkably soft despite being
thick and kinky.