Big City: Box Set Part 2

Their gazes met. She understood. With other men, s.e.xual encounters had ended with a cold satisfaction. It was like eating second-day pizza. Her needs were filled, but there was no delight.

"I'm human," she declared to both Frey and herself, the smoke wafting from her mouth making a mockery of her words. Perla swirled her tongue around his c.o.c.khead, caressing the rim, before sinking down on him, drawing him into her mouth. He groaned, and ink-black scales crept over his abs and down his thighs.

She drew out his dragon and invoked his heat. Perla smiled around his c.o.c.k, working his shaft while rolling his heavy b.a.l.l.s in her palms. His hands clenched into fists, his scarred knuckles white.

Perla bobbed over him, her mouth growing hotter and hotter, and his b.a.l.l.s drew up close to his body. She squeezed, brus.h.i.+ng a talon over the soft skin below his c.o.c.k, and he breathed heavily, his chest heaving. Smoke drifted around them. Flames escaped her lips, heating her face, sizzling him, his scales soft against her tongue.

"Perla." His voice was a rumble of desperation. "Perla, I'm going to --"

She took him fully into her mouth and sucked hard, her cheeks indenting.

"Perla!" He roared fire and heat and pa.s.sion, erupting, his molten c.u.m squirting down her throat, and as she swallowed, pa.s.sion raged within her, her body seizing, clenching, convulsing.

She screeched around his shaft and squeezed his b.a.l.l.s with her talons, drawing a second wave of o.r.g.a.s.m-inducing c.u.m. Flames engulfed them. She was hot, so very hot. A thumping sound echoed in her ears, like the beating of wings.

"Frey." She broke from him and flopped her cheek down on his thick thigh, her bones liquefied, her heart pounding in double time. "I've never --"

A knock on the door interrupted her potentially embarra.s.sing confession of need and want and maybe even love. Perla glanced at the door and then back at Frey. The rap sounded again, louder this time. He groaned, s.h.i.+fting restlessly underneath her. The next knock was a long, insistent drum solo.

"All right. All right." He rolled her to the side and lunged to his feet.

Perla pulled what remained of the expensive silk rug over her naked body. Frey had no such modesty, striding to the door completely nude, his a.s.s cheeks as tanned and toned as the rest of him. She admired the view, peeking around the couch. He had s.e.xy feet.

Frey opened the door, and a light, floral scent cut through the aroma of fire and s.e.x. Perla stiffened. A female dared approach her male. A red-hot anger swept over her, a rumble rising from her chest. Her talons extended.

"I found this, Master." The green-haired waitress from last night pa.s.sed a black clutch purse to Frey. Their fingers touched.

The waitress touched her male. Perla stood and tossed the carpet aside, announcing her presence and position as mate.

The woman's gaze flicked her way, and a smug smile curled her lips. "I thought the mistress might need it. You know how we women are about our purses." She smiled enticingly up at Frey, stepped forward, and deliberately brushed her large b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his arm.

"h.e.l.l no!" Perla shrieked her outrage, as she leaped into the air, her talons outstretched. Kill! Defend! Mine!

"Go, Mele!" Frey pushed the waitress away, slammed the door shut on the woman's startled face, and turned around. "Perla." He caught her, holding her as she struggled and hissed, raking his arms and legs, trying to free herself, needing to defend her territory.

"My little dragon." He wrapped his fingers around her hair and yanked her head back. The sharp pain cut through her rage, his dominance appeasing her, and she growled at him, communicating her displeasure. He chuckled, brus.h.i.+ng his lips against hers, the heat soothing her, his scent calming her.

Mine.

Hers? What was she thinking? Perla's face heated. "I don't know what... I never... I'm not the jealous type!" she blurted out. Normal women didn't react like that, especially not after knowing a man for only one evening.

Frey chuckled again. "We're dragons. We defend what is ours, and I am yours." He claimed her mouth, their tongues twisting, tumbling together. She spread her fingers over his bare chest, declaring her possession. "I feel the same, though as an older dragon, I have more control. Not much." His lips twisted. "But more. Once we've mated in dragon form, I'm told we'll feel more secure."

"I don't have a dragon form." She was human. Any other possibility was... it couldn't be. She was human.

"Hmmm..." He handed her the purse and carried her into the next room, his bedroom. She looked around them. They hadn't made it there last night.

It was dark and masculine and comforting. Frey placed her on the huge bed. She rolled, burying her nose in the duvet. It smelled of him, dragon and man. She rubbed her body over the fabric.

"Marking your territory?" He tumbled onto the bed beside her, the bed bouncing. His dark eyes lit with amus.e.m.e.nt, laughter lines etched around his mouth.

Grown women didn't roll on beds. Perla forced herself to stop moving. "I don't know what you're talking about." She unsnapped her purse and peered inside, studiously avoiding him and his big, s.h.i.+t-eating grin. d.a.m.n man or dragon or whatever the h.e.l.l he was.

She extracted her phone and scrolled through her texts, finding the flurry of excited, happy messages from Carly. Perla read the drunk observations and smiled.

"She's safe?" Frey ran his rough hand up her arm. She didn't want to desire him, and as they had f.u.c.ked continuously all night long, she shouldn't hunger for him, yet she did. Her nipples tightened.

"She's sure one of the guys she met last night was a vampire." A week ago, Perla would have laughed at her imaginative friend, but now... She studied Frey's grim face. She glanced back down at her phone's tiny screen. He had FANGS!!!!! the message read. She read on and frowned. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.d bit her."

"What?" Flames danced in Frey's eyes, all humor erased from his countenance.

Perla gulped. The man looked as p.i.s.sed off as she felt. She scrolled through junk texts and work stuff. "There's nothing else from her. That's the last one." That wasn't like Carly. Something was wrong. She stared across the room at the medieval sword displayed on the wall, guilt erasing all her s.e.xual satisfaction.

"She's safe," Frey a.s.sured her. "You didn't contact her, and you're safe," he pointed out.

"I'm not Carly. Carly texts me about the shows she watches and the meals she eats." Perla scrambled off the bed. "I need to get home." She hurried into the next room and scooped her clothes off the floor.

Frey followed her. "My driver will take you." His voice was tight with anger.

He was angry with her because she was overreacting. Carly was okay. She had to be. Yes, she was okay... but if she wasn't... "She's my best friend." Perla tugged her skirt up past her bare hips.

Frey waved his big hand in dismissal. "I understand. You don't need to explain. We're dragons, remember?"

"We defend what is ours." Perla stared at him. She wasn't a dragon, but he did understand. "Will I see you again?" She hoped so. She reached behind her to tie her halter-top.

"My driver is yours." He b.u.mped away her hands, taking over the task, the brush of his fingers against her skin gentle, almost loving. "I'm yours." He turned her around and swept his lips over her forehead. "Call when you've found your friend. I'll be waiting for you."

"You don't answer your phone now?" Frey glowered at his friend. He'd been calling Vasile all day, wis.h.i.+ng to ease Perla's concerns and return her to his protective arms.

The vampire leveled a f.u.c.k-you death stare on him.

Great. This day was getting better and better. He took a deep breath, counted to five, and released it. "What the h.e.l.l happened, Vasile?"

His friend crossed his arms defensively, his feet braced apart.

"Vasile?"

"He bit her." The vampire's blood red lips curled, revealing razor-sharp fangs.

"What?" Frey stared at Vasile. What was he talking about?

"I could deal with the f.u.c.king." His friend paced. "I could." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "But one of Kerrick's men bit her." He turned his head, and his red-rimmed gaze met Frey's. "He bit her."

The normally cool and composed vampire looked on the verge of losing control, which meant... Frey groaned. Of all the females... "What did you do with your dear sweet human beloved? Is she safe?"

"Of course she is." Vasile appeared offended. "I'd protect her with my life."

Frey exhaled smoke. "Then why hasn't she been texting my mate? Because right now, my little dragon is scouring the Bronx looking for her friend." She was safe -- no one would harm her within his territory -- but he preferred she remain by his side.

Lines appeared between Vasile's eyebrows. "She lost her phone, and her purse, and clearly her G.o.dd.a.m.n mind." He sat in the guest chair. "She allowed him to bite her, and she laughed about it... in my face." His claws dug into the armrests.

"Your pets have spoiled you, my friend." Frey shook his head. Vasile in love. That must be a sign of the end of the world. He shuffled through the papers on his desk. There was a rap on the door. "Enter." He welcomed the interruption.

Mele, his number-one waitress, sashayed into the office, her short green skirt twitching. "Master," she purred. She carried a tray with two drinks, drinks he hadn't ordered.

"What's this?" Frey frowned.

"You looked so... thirsty earlier, Master." The s.e.x fairy's words dripped with innuendo. "And I live only to please you." She moved to the side of the desk and bent over slowly, seductively, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s nearly spilling out of her leather top, her skirt pulling up to reveal a bare a.s.s.

What the h.e.l.l was going on? Had his entire club gone mental? Frey met Vasile's gaze. His friend shrugged, appearing as confused as he felt.

"Is there anything else you'd like?" The fairy maintained her b.o.o.bs-out position.

"Look at me, Mele."

"I'll do more than that." She pivoted into his lap, her bare a.s.s landing square on his uninterested groin. "Much more." She hooked her arms around his neck and gazed up at him, her lips parted in invitation, her pupils dilated.

"Spelled." Frey shoved her off of him and stood. He had to change his clothes. If Perla smelled another female on him, she'd claw him into pieces. "Take care of this, Vasile. Find out who messed with my employees and why. You may also wish to have your --" His body temperature dropped dramatically, and he swayed, holding onto the desk for support.

"Master, what is it?" Mele pressed her big b.r.e.a.s.t.s into his side.

"No!" He roared, fire spewing from his mouth, as he pushed her away. He staggered to the door, fighting the s.h.i.+ft.

"Frey?" Vasile followed him.

"She's in his territory." A fiery rage filled the cold void she'd left within him. "He has her."

"If you cross the border, it's war," his friend warned him.

"This is war." His talons pierced his shoes and clinked on the metallic flooring. "I'd battle the world for her." She was his, and dragons defended what was theirs.

Frey barreled through the empty club and burst through the door to his private sanctuary. His body ma.s.s doubled, and doubled again, his clothes shredding, wings breaking through the flesh on his back. With three more strides, he was airborne, breaking through the safety gla.s.s.

He roared his threat as he soared, navigating between the buildings. His fire spread a powerful glamour even the vampires envied, disguising his pa.s.sing to the humans below. All they felt was an unexplainable rush of heat and wind.

The impatient young dragon dared too much, as no one threatened his female. Frey was older, wiser, and stronger, having won battles before his rival was even born. If Oro touched her, Frey would kill him.

Chapter Four.

"Dragons aren't real. Dragons aren't real." Perla tugged on the door she'd exited mere minutes ago. It didn't budge, and the golden dragon was quickly approaching, the beating of his wings drowning out the pounding of her heart.

"No. No. No." She leaned her face against the cool metal. She knew Manhattan was dangerous, she knew it, but when that text for help came from Carly, she'd had no choice.

The text had been a trick. Upon arrival, she'd received a flood of messages from her p.i.s.sed-off friend, none of them mentioning a rooftop rendezvous, and when Perla saw the dragon, she realized she was in deep s.h.i.+t.

The beast roared. Holy s.h.i.+t. She yanked on the door handle. Where was the National Guard or the NYPD or whoever took care of flying lizards? It was a freakin' dragon!

Dragon...

"Frey." Would he miss her? Would he think about her?

The roof shook, and a blast of heat hit her back, melting her clothes. She turned slowly. "Oh my freakin' G.o.d." The dragon peered at her with his big golden eyes, flames licking around his ma.s.sive teeth.

"Nice dragon." She backed away, her palms facing him. Like that will help, Perla. She snorted. Her do-it-yourself manicure wouldn't stop the big beast. She glanced around her for possible weapons. There weren't any on the windswept roof, and she ran out of room to retreat, her heels. .h.i.tting the ankle-high barrier.

The dragon licked his lips, polis.h.i.+ng those big teeth of his. His wings were outstretched, blocking any possibility of her making a dash around him.

"You don't want to eat me," she tried to reason with the creature. "I don't taste very good."

There was a s.h.i.+mmer in the air like heat rising off hot pavement, and the golden dragon became a golden man. "Au contraire, sweets." He was a very naked man, his body tanned and fit, his c.o.c.k erect. "I'm certain you'll taste delicious." He breathed in, his muscular chest rising.

Carly would like him. He was blond and beautiful, his countenance so dazzling he looked unreal. Even his eyes were golden, the warmest, lightest brown.

Strong. Her inner critic approved of him.

Her heart did not. She edged to the right.

He smiled smugly, his conceit hanging around him like a halo. "s.h.i.+ft, sweets, and you can have all this." He waved a hand over his perfect body. "Forever."

She didn't want him. She wanted Frey's ruggedness, his scars, and his surly temperament. "s.h.i.+ft?"

"We need to make love in dragon form." His gaze roamed over her, and his smile wavered as though what he saw disappointed him. Perla stood up straighter, and she glared at him. He laughed, tossing back his golden mane of hair. "s.h.i.+ft, sweets. We have an eternity to improve ourselves."

Improve ourselves? The a.s.s. "I'm not a dragon."

"Not a dragon?" He looked pointedly at her hands. Long talons protruded from her scale-covered fingers. "You --" The golden dragon man stopped, turning his head. "He wouldn't dare!" he shrieked his outrage.

Frey. Perla's body trembled with antic.i.p.ation and relief.

"I apologize." The man's smile showed signs of strain, grooves etched around his mouth. "I wished to court you, seduce you, but my primitive neighbor is forcing my hand, so..."

Big hands slammed against her chest, and Perla fell backward, falling, falling, her arms and legs flailing. She screamed, staring up at the night sky, as the wind rushed over her and death approached.

Heat consumed her and pain ripped her body into pieces. She didn't die instantly. The claws of agony raked her again and again, and she spun, wings tearing through her back, a tail stretching out from her a.s.s. She s.h.i.+fted. She was a dragon. Flap, d.a.m.n it! Flap! Her new wings wouldn't cooperate. The pavement loomed closer, hard and cold and deadly. Oh, G.o.d. She braced for impact.

A roar exploded the windows around her, gla.s.s bouncing off her scales, and she landed, not in a heap on the busy street, but on the back of a large black dragon.

Her dragon.