DragonGames (7 page)

Takeo prevented him from responding by asking
Lyra, “What other activities do you pursue?”

“I read.”

Pierce dealt the hole cards. “As does
Tielo. His tastes run toward commercial fiction.”

Twin plumes of smoke poured from Odion’s
nostrils. He glowered at Pierce. “We are not interested in learning about
Tielo.”

Lyra laughed, though her stomach quickly
knotted, then knotted tighter as Tielo’s play became wilder and wilder, his
chip stack diminishing as if he were in a race to quit the game.

Had the attraction all been in her head? Or
had he held himself in check early on, afraid to reveal that once he started
chasing the dream of winning, he couldn’t stop?

Was he like her biological father after
all? The question chilled her.

And that chill deepened when she took
Takeo’s remaining coins. Because when he asked to be allowed back into the
game, she was tempted to say yes, not because the rules permitted it, but
because he wasn’t nearly as skilled at Hold’em as the rest of them, and winning
would mean more money for her.

“No,” she said.

Then no again, for the opposite reason,
when Hakon won a pot containing the remainder of Roque’s chips, though part of
her wanted to allow Roque to buy in to the game for a second time.

She found the resolve to deny the request
by imagining going to the Ochoas’ restaurant and discovering the space vacant.
Of losing touch with the family as circumstances forced them to live in their
car and send their children to relatives.

Roque was too skillful a player to
discount. He could make a comeback and she was now the chip leader, with Hakon
and Odion close behind and Tielo…a distant fourth.

Tielo managed to take his eyes off her.
Satisfaction surged through him at the flurry of gambling taking place at the
other tables, and the small fortune being left at a bar stocked with Dragon’s
Flame along with rare wines and liquors.

Perfect. And this was only the first of the
prospective mates.

More would come.

The word triggered a heated pulse through
his cock, a demand accompanied by images of Lyra beneath him, her long legs
wrapped around his waist, those luscious breasts pressed to his chest. Her
breathless pleas of
Harder, Tielo, please make me yours
ringing in his
ears.

He shook his head to clear the fantasy. To
give in to temptation was to lose his bet with Pierce, to be snared by his own
scheme.

The play came around and he pushed more of
his chips in. It was a bold move. Or a reckless one, depending on what
motivations others judged him to have, given how weak his hand was against the
high likelihood Odion possessed two pairs and Hakon only needed a single card
to complete a flush.

His bet chased Jubal out of the pot, but in
the end, he was left with a mere forty chips. His ma—

No. He refused to think of her that way.
Lyra
had added to her winnings. With a casual glance he calculated the total and
smiled when, on the next hand, she took Jubal’s remaining chips, forcing him to
stand in preparation of leaving the table.

“Allow my return to the game,” Jubal said,
the purr in his voice grating on Tielo’s nerves.

Lyra licked her lips.

Red began creeping in at the edges of
Tielo’s vision when Jubal said, “Perhaps I can tempt you into saying yes where
you’ve told the others no,” at the same time summoning a distant cousin to the
velvet rope.

Jubal took a flat, slim jewelry case from
his relative and placed it on the table in front of Lyra. “Only say I may
rejoin the game and the gift is yours to keep.”

“Protest!” Odion said, standing, his anger
directed at Jubal.

“The rules don’t prevent it,” Pierce said.

“Say no,” Odion said, as if he had a right
to order her, and red painted more of Tielo’s vision.

“Open it,” Jubal urged.

She did, breath catching at the glittering
sapphire necklace.

Tielo’s muscles bunched. His jaw clenched
as she trailed her fingertip over it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not nearly as beautiful as you. Allow me
to put it on you.”

She shook her head then closed the jewelry
case and forced it back into his hands. “I think you’d come to regret giving
this to me.”

“Never.”

Every male at the table leaned forward as
she retrieved her phone and turned it on. Tielo stood when he caught Jubal’s
soft purr.

The height allowed him to see a photograph
of what must be her third-graders. The auburn-haired fool was so ready to be
weighed down by heavy shackles he was probably imagining they’d all been sired
by him.

Several pictures later she stopped on a
beautiful woman with caramel-toned skin. “My sister, Summer.” And glanced up to
see for herself why Jubal wasn’t the correct mate. The male was now absolutely
focused on another, his eyes lust-dilated.

“I’d be happy to arrange an introduction.”

“I will hold you to your offer.”

Jubal leaned down, brushing his lips across
hers.

Protest roared through Tielo in a haze of
red. Sexual talons ripped away all denial as he only barely maintained his
human shape.
Mine!

The acknowledgement of it burned the flimsy
barrier separating him from images of Lyra lying on a bed of glittering jewels.
Of rolling and luxuriating on it in the dragon realm in those moments before
going to her knees and offering herself, legs spread and vulva dripping in
anticipation of being taking by her mate in his first form.

Such a thing was possible. He was larger,
heavier as a dragon, but he could cover her. He
would
cover her,
impaling her with his shaft and mating her, trumpeting his pleasure and
satisfaction for all to hear.
His!

“Well played,” Hakon said after Jubal had
passed beyond the velvet rope, his eyes full of nerve-scraping glee. “Shall we
resume the game?”

Resume and end them!

Tielo snarled, “Deal, Pierce.” The fey was
welcome to
all
the proceeds on those nights other mates were here, but
this night Tielo would be the true winner.

The fury of his claim to Lyra blocked out
all other emotion—until play moved to him. Then he knew fear.

It ripped through him at seeing how few
coins remained. A round, possibly two, unless fate and skill combined saved him
from his earlier folly of denial.

He folded, biding his time. His alarm
magnified when Odion won.

Rules be cursed, he’d snatch Lyra up and
make a run for it before allowing Odion to have her. And Hakon…

The prince had made it known he didn’t want
a mate. Nothing in the male’s behavior suggested he wanted Lyra, not in the way
the silver-and-gold dragons did. Not in the way he himself did, his craving now
unleashed with a vengeance.

Patience. Patience.

Little by little he chipped away at Odion’s
winnings. His satisfaction doubled by the increased attention it gained him.

He basked in Lyra’s gaze each time she
glanced at him. Her scent deepened the longer he played and the more he
demonstrated his true skill at playing poker. It became lush, heady, the call
of a female in need of her male.

Her desire was like a hand reaching out to
stroke him. Like a fist settling around his cock and urging it to hurry to her
opening. Soon he would do just that.

There was no suppressing a feral smile when
Hakon crippled Odion, and then he, in the next hand, rid Odion from the game
altogether. “Just the three of us now,” he purred.

He could best Hakon. He intended it, but
six rounds later, he watched in disbelief as the last of Hakon’s gold was added
to Lyra’s immense winnings. Panic flared then, given the discrepancy. She had
him six chips to one, meaning she could use her big stacks against his little
ones, turning each round into an all-or-nothing situation.

If she won, she’d be free to cash out her
winnings and leave. Worse, she might willingly accompany one of the others
home.

They had been sent from the game, but they
waited beyond the velvet rope for a second chance. And all of them, save for
Jubal, would swoop if she were still free after the mandatory waiting period
expired, and the unobtrusive guards Severn had assigned to her were no longer
present. A rake of serum-filled spurs across her flesh and she would wake in
the dragon realm, bound to the male who’d taken her to his lair.

“A side bet,” he said, the desperation in
his voice turning into a snarl at reading Pierce’s amusement. “If I win this
hand, we take the game private. We’ll commandeer one of the offices.” Of course
they’d use his office, and shortly thereafter, his bed in the adjoining living
quarters.

Foolish. Lyra knew it was absolutely
foolish to even consider it, but the idea of being away from an audience
appealed to her, as did the thought of spending time alone with the man the
cards favored.

She could have all his chips in a couple of
plays, though worry nibbled at the edges of her psyche. Hadn’t she imagined him
a dragon intent on stealing treasure, lulling his opponents into a false sense
of security then striking?

Yet still she said, “And if I win?”

“I will fund a field trip for your class in
the upcoming school year. Anything logistically feasible. A trip to Disney
World perhaps? Or the private screening of a not-yet-released movie, with
snacks provided of course. What do you think?”

She thought what he offered was far more
tempting than jewelry—and far more dangerous. It meant he understood her well
enough to know where her weaknesses lay.

Did she dare take this private? Would she
regret it if she said yes? Or regret it more if she said no? “Make it a field
trip for
all
of the third-grade students.”

“Done.” As easily as that, as if money was
no problem.

Because he actually had that kind of
wealth? Or because he considered the card table an ATM? Though in studying
poker, she knew even the best players had long streaks of losing.

“I’ll take the bet,” she said.

Tielo’s smile made her think of a dragon
stretched out on a jewel-covered ledge and basking in the sun. “Deal the cards,
Pierce.”

Chapter Five

Tielo purred when he looked at his hole
cards, a pair of kings. The sound of his satisfaction was soft enough Lyra
didn’t hear it, though the dragons crowding the velvet rope did. They knew
within moments he’d have his mate behind closed doors and his seduction would
begin.

Pierce would be left with the task of
dealing with males who wanted to know when
their
mates would arrive at
Drake’s Lair. Fitting retribution given fey trickery.

Lyra nibbled her bottom lip, signifying she
had nothing but possibility. It was a tell that would dismay her if she knew of
it, though the sight made him want to lean forward and take that same lip
between his teeth, to explore it with his tongue as a precursor to delving into
her mouth.

Pierce spread the three-card flop—queen of
clubs, two of clubs, jack of hearts.

The tell disappeared, and that in itself
was
a tell. She now had something.

But it wasn’t worry that twisted in his
chest, leaving him conflicted and uncomfortable. It was imagining her radiant
smile at being able to do something wonderful for the children.

A glance down at his chips said he couldn’t
afford to lose. He very much feared he would if he couldn’t chase her from the
game before turn and river cards joined the flop. “All in.”

Lyra contemplated it for all of a second
but the chance of a field trip was too tempting. “I call.”

Tielo flipped his cards over.

A soft “damn” escaped when Lyra saw his
kings against her sevens with the possibility of a straight.

Chip racks arrived. Tumultuous,
contradictory emotions buffeted Lyra as she left the velvet-roped public table
and moved through a crowd of men whose attention remained focused on her. Twice
her steps faltered, as if some instinct for self-preservation tried to kick in.
Twice, a glance at Tielo burned away resistance.

I can handle this. I can handle him.

It wasn’t panic that flared in her belly at
glimpsing the bed in the attached living quarters, or at finally being alone
with Tielo after a small, intimate poker table had been set up in the middle of
the office.

She swallowed. She’d underestimated his
effect on her.

If she’d thought she’d been caught in a
maelstrom of desire out in the club, with plenty of distraction and an audience
guaranteeing self-control, in private it was like being on the edge of a fiery
vortex with him at the center.

She closed her eyes but it didn’t help. His
features might as well have been branded on the backs of her eyelids and the
need for him painted onto every inch of her skin.

“A drink?” he asked.

“No.” She didn’t dare, though she opened
her eyes to watch him help himself to one, pouring what looked like Dragon’s
Flame from a crystal decanter on the desk before sitting at the poker table and
shuffling the cards.

She became transfixed by the sight of his
hands, found it all too easy to imagine them on her skin, light against dark. A
shiver of need went through her and she pressed her thighs together.

Heat crept up her neck and into her face at
remembering the flare of masculine nostrils as she’d made her way to the
office, as if the men who’d parted so she could pass had scented her arousal
and wondered just how wet her panties were.

Tielo scooped the cards up. His gaze
lifted. Halted, his attention caught on the hand she hadn’t been aware of—her
own at the front of her dress, loosening the top buttons.

“Take it off,” he said, dominant, intense,
making her channel spasm and her womb flutter.

She licked her lips, made a vain effort to
tell herself she’d been trying to cool down, not unconsciously extending an
invitation.

A silent laugh marked the lie. Cooling down
was an impossibility in Tielo’s presence.

He was all man. What a dragon
would
be if it took a human form.

Possessiveness stamped his expression. The
look he sent her made her feel like
his
woman, but rather than
diminishing, it emboldened, infusing her with feminine power.

Without looking at the two cards he’d
dealt, she said, “If you win. I’ll take it off. As a side bet.”

Play moved fast because of the challenge.
Anticipation heightened with flop and turn and finally the river card, so she
wasn’t sure who the winner would be, or who she wanted it to be.

Her flush beat his nothing. He doubled that
victory by standing and slowly unbuttoning his shirt, then peeling it from his
body and tossing it casually onto what was probably Pierce’s desk.

A whimper escaped. A needy sound to
accompany the throbbing heat centered in her pussy and clit.

Her mouth watered and she caught herself
leaning forward, hungering to kiss his smooth chest, to use her tongue to trace
the dragon curled around a masculine nipple pierced with an onyx-studded
barbell.

“It’s you,” she murmured, loving the deep
rumble of his laugh.

“Yes, it’s me.”

The torso and head of the beast were gold,
but its crest and the underside of its wings were silver. It was beautiful
artwork, capturing masculine mischievousness as well as predatory interest. She
wanted to press her lips to it, to torment the nipple at its center, flicking
the barbell before capturing and sucking as her hands stroked over taut abdomen
on their way to hard cock.

He sat and another whimper escaped, this
one a sound of protest, of frustrated feminine need. But she rallied, saying,
“I’m surprised the dragon isn’t anatomically correct.”

“You’ve seen a male in his first form?”

There was a growl in his voice, as if he
were wondering if she’d come to Drake’s Lair before. His expression said that
imagining her with anyone else was unacceptable.

Ditto. She didn’t want to think of him
playing private games with another female.

“This is my first encounter with dragons.”

She smiled at how thoroughly she’d been
sucked into the role-playing, understood better how it was with her sister’s
BDSM lifestyle.

Waving in the direction of his chest, she
said, “There’s nothing to distinguish the males from the females.” Though she
was absolutely certain the beast on his skin was male.

His laugh was low and deliciously wicked.
“Dragon cocks are sheathed inside the body. They emerge only during coupling.
There’s a reason virgins made an acceptable tribute from villagers who wanted
to keep their fields and buildings from being scorched. Mating between species
is possible, and extremely pleasurable.”

He touched the tattoo, masculine fingers
capturing the barbell-studded nipple, playing with the piercing in the way she
wanted to.

“Imagine what it would be like to be taken
by a dragon in his first form—by
this
dragon.”

“Whew,” she said, giving in to the urge
she’d been fighting all evening and fanning herself. “Time for a change of
topic.”

Though she did imagine it, and was
flustered at how easy it was. At how thoroughly aroused it made her. Sweet
Jesus, and she’d thought men and women wearing bits and being ridden by their
masters was kinky when Summer once told her about attending a party where that
kind of play went on.

“Your deal,” Tielo said, eyes dark with the
knowledge he’d turned her on, nostrils quivering as though he could smell the
gush of arousal leaving her channel with each hungry ripple of her sheath.

Her hands shook. Her mind was so fogged
that calculating odds was impossible. Reading him in order to take a stab at
what hole cards he held was beyond her, not when the hole she cared about was
between her thighs, aching to be filled by a dragon’s cock.

She won by luck, not skill. He stood, hands
going to the front of his pants, lingering there and making her squirm in her
seat as more arousal poured from her slit.

“Do it,” she ordered, wondering how she’d
come to be playing strip poker.

He laughed, kicking off his shoes instead,
and she thought even his feet were gorgeous. She was acutely aware of the
bedroom behind her, and very afraid she’d be the one to break down and suggest
they enter it.

Tielo sat, pulling the cards to him. The
muscles beneath the dragon tattoo and pierced nipple rippled and shifted as he
shuffled, held her attention so the stacks of gold coins no longer had the
power to rivet or awe.

It was a testament to how compelling he was
that she didn’t fold at seeing the two and eight he’d dealt her. She played,
meeting his raises. Only confronting the truth when he revealed the pair of
tens she’d suspected him of having—part of her wanted to lose.

“Take the dress off, Lyra.”

Her belly quivered, heat pooling there at
the dark menace in his voice, the fierce command in his eyes. This much she’d
always known she had in common with her sister, though she’d never played games
of dominance and submission.

Lyra stood. She toyed with the buttons of
her dress, mimicking what he’d done at the front of his pants, teasing him with
the possibility she might kick off her heels instead.

“Disobey me and punishment will accrue.”

The depth of her longing for it shocked her
as much as the image of lying naked across his thighs, receiving an open-handed
spanking. Slowly she freed the buttons of her dress, unable to stop the subtle
arch of her chest to call attention to breasts capped with hard, hard nipples.

He made a low, rumbly purr of satisfaction.
It was easy to imagine him as the silver-and-gold dragon, eyes shining like
polished onyx as they fixed on prey. Human prey.

“I’m not a virgin,” she said. “I thought
that’s what did it for dragons.”

“Virgins survived in greater numbers in the
old days. But as far as you’re concerned, I’ll wipe all other men from your
memory. Being with me is all you will know once we’ve coupled.”

It was dark, hot promise rather than
outrageous boast. “Virginity restored?” she managed, delaying the moment when
she’d stand before him in scraps of material and heels that had always enhanced
her feeling of attractiveness.

“Virginity restored and
taken
.”

By me
, and
though he didn’t say the last, it hovered between them with absolute certainty.

She pushed the dress off her shoulders,
letting gravity carry it downward to pool at her feet.

His hunger scorched her. His hand dropped
to his lap as if to keep from coming at what she’d revealed.

It was nearly enough to have her whisper
take
me
. She’d never had a man look at her the way he did or make her crave even
the smallest caress, the briefest touch of skin to skin.

By the Great Shared Ancestor, she was about
to unman him!

The moment Lyra sat, he was out of his
chair and around to hers. He’d show her there was a price to pay for tormenting
her mate.

He’d resisted the heady lure of her scent
for what seemed like an eternity. He’d even managed to withstand the invitation
issued by her whimpers.

But not this. Not the display of luscious
curves and smooth skin.

She was like one of his prized onyx
goddesses come to life, warm woman instead of cool stone.
His
.

He repositioned the chair with a jerk so
she faced him. Captured her wrists and carried them backward to hold behind her
chair.

The thrust of her breasts was his reward,
the freedom to take and taste and hear the music of her whimpers.

He claimed her mouth first. No gentle
exploration but the thrust of his tongue, the plundering of a male dragon
pushed too far.

Mine! Mine! Mine!

Her answering hunger confirmed it, her
scent growing lusher as she fought to get closer. Perhaps this very day they’d
get started on the two children she saw in her future.

A growl followed that thought, accompanying
the realization he was nowhere close to being ready to share her, even with his
own offspring.

It’d be hard enough allowing her to return
to the classroom and be out of his sight. Luckily for him, he had the wealth
necessary to keep her guarded, and with the Dragon’s Cup in male possession,
available to any without cost, the chances of her being stolen by another of
his kind were reduced.

“We’re done with poker,” he said against
her lips.

She stiffened immediately. “No.”

“No?” He kissed across the slopes of her
breasts. Nibbled at the edges of her bra.

“No.” Panted response denied by the sweet
moan and arch of her back when he took a cloth-covered nipple, sucking the hard
nub deep into this mouth.

Fire built in his cock, threatening to burn
away the human shell constructed by magic. Desire pooled in his testicles,
expanding them until they were tight and hard with impending release.

He wouldn’t be able to wait much longer.
He’d be lucky if he managed to join his body to hers even once before the
hollow spurs sheathed and hidden on the insides of his wrists descended,
filling with the serum that would make her biologically
compatible to carry their future children. He shivered
at experiencing the phantom rake of them across the dark buttocks he’d yet to
see or worship with hands and lips.

On a growl he released her nipple and
leaned back. Her body might be willing to forego any game other than those
played in bed, but her expression said her mind wasn’t yet ready to give up the
chance to win the riches on the table.

Aggravation battled pride. She was a true
dragon’s mate, though he refused to return to his seat without seeing at least
one of the nipples that had telegraphed her desire all evening.

He leaned in, grabbing a thin strap between
his teeth and pulling it off her shoulder, making it possible to nuzzle and
kiss and chase lacy material away from the prize he sought.

“Beautiful,” he murmured in appreciation as
the bra cup surrendered. Her nipple was a large dark coin, treasure that far
outshone the gold on the table.