Firebreather 1: Firebreather (2 page)

Determined to keep control, she leaned down to salvage an ancient book she’d only recently acquired. It had taken six months to locate
Reem’s Lost Arts,
of which only a handful had ever been printed to begin with. Unfortunately, her “burglar” must have understood its significance, for only the binding remained, the interior pages ripped free.

Straightening, she surveyed the rest of the damage, praying it looked worse than it actually was. A few broken book bindings, strewn papers over the floor, and a busted desk lamp seemed the extent of the damage—except for Reem’s book. And the chair. And that destruction she took personally.

Burglar my ass
, she seethed as she began the painstaking business of setting her study to rights. No point in calling the police, since Dekker owned half the force. Rich
and
irritatingly sexy, a lethal combination. If the damned man weren’t Dracon, she might be inclined to cut him some slack. But she found it hard to pity his flaws when his strengths shone so brightly. And informing the police of the break-in might enlighten them to her little side-gig, the source of her true happiness and, hopefully, eventual career.

With two overbearing brothers who considered dragons worse than demons, Lea had never felt the desire to share her alter ego. No one but she and her editor knew that she had written several professionally credited articles,
and
a best-seller, under a pseudonym on the shapeshifting Dracon clan. Years of family research combined with a fierce fascination for the half-man/half-dragon creatures had instilled in Lea a need to understand, and to help others understand.

Despite what she’d said to her sister, Lea didn’t hold any prejudice against the Dracon. Against one in particular, yes, but against them as a whole, no. The stories she’d heard as a child had been just that, stories.

She’d been young when her father died, and seeing the beauty of the creatures as they flew through the air had been more than enough to paint them in a surreal, almost mystical light. Even today, she’d give anything to fly among the clouds.

And much as she hated to admit it, Ferin Dekker turned her on as no one ever had, no one real, anyway. Her dreams, however, were another thing altogether. Lusty and provocative, and decidedly carnal, unlike her boring, all-too-real existence. Shaking herself from the heat beginning to overtake her sense, she frowned down at several cracked CDs and collected more scattered paper.

Yes, the Dracon were a people to be studied, to be treasured for their differences. However, rifling through her study and ruining her favorite chair were not the actions of an estimable race. She could only pray her burglar had attacked randomly, and hadn’t realized just how much she knew about the mysterious clan.

Glancing again at the careless destruction, Lea’s anger flared, but she dropped the rest of the papers she’d been gathering as a sudden thought hit.

“Oh, no. Not my hard drive.”

The computer looked untouched, but when she turned it on, nothing happened. The monitor flickered to life, but the screen remained blank.

And that’s when she noticed the small holes on the side of the tower case. The back of the computer showed a large gaping wound, where someone had
ripped out
the hard drive.

Curses streamed from her mouth like a river, and while she raged, she raced through the hallway, praying the asshole hadn’t also located her hidden safe, where she kept a handy backup drive.

Once in her bedroom, she stopped. What if whoever had begun the job of screwing up her research hid in her house even now, waiting for an encore? Glancing furtively around, she waited for the smallest sound to alert her to an intruder. After several quiet minutes, she opened the faux-panel of her nightstand and entered the digital combination to her small safe. When it clicked open, she breathed a sigh of relief. The backup lay on top of her first-edition published articles and her great-great-great grandmother’s illegible journal.

“At least I’ve still got you,” she murmured, relief making her lightheaded.

“And I’ve got you,” a familiar voice said with satisfaction, scaring the hell out of her.

Lea slammed the safe door shut and spun around, her heart racing as she looked up at none other than Ferin Dekker.

His nostrils flared as he stared at her, his eyes glowing as they trailed from the top of her head, down her body to her heel-clad feet, and slowly back up again. It didn’t escape her notice that he lingered a bit too long on her breasts.

“You left before I could say goodnight,” he murmured and took a step closer. His eyes seemed to flash, a kaleidoscope of color that shouted “Dracon.”

“Back off, Dekker.” She thought of her chair and narrowed her gaze, her heart racing like a rabbit. “Better yet, tell me why one of your clan slaughtered my favorite chair downstairs. And why the hell they trashed my computer.”

He said nothing, cocking his head as if to study her from another perspective. His calm demeanor stirred her fear into fury, and she took a threatening step forward, her hand balled into a fist.

“Look, you shifting bastard, I want to know why and how you snuck into my house. Insults and leers are one thing, but this is taking it too far.”

At that he frowned. “I didn’t do this. I was at the gallery well before you arrived, meeting with VanShone for one of his works. And for the record, I’ve never insulted you.”

She noted he didn’t deny the leering accusation. “Well if you didn’t ransack my place, why are you here?”

“I told you.” He closed the distance between them and answered in a throaty voice. “You didn’t let me say goodnight.” She opened her mouth to argue and found herself in his arms and under a kiss before she could blink. She wanted to resist, Lord did she, but the minute his mouth touched hers, she felt adrift in sensation. As if under a spell, her body suddenly melted into his. Warm, hard lips coaxed hers into opening, and he slid his tongue inside her mouth as if he owned the right.

Like liquid sex, his mouth loved hers into complete submission. He stroked her tongue, licked at the roof of her mouth and teased her into near-orgasm. His hard chest pressed against her breasts, causing heat to race from the pinpricks of her nipples through her belly into her sex.

His erection strained against her stomach, and she could no more stop riding against him than she could stop the kiss.

“Lea,” he murmured as he kissed his way toward her ear. “I want to eat you up and lick you all over.” His voice lowered into an animalistic growl, but she was too caught up in his touch to care. When his hands slid from her waist to her hips, he pulled her into him, lifting her to fit over his steely shaft.

She moaned and blinked at him, nearly mesmerized by the sudden swirling colors in his eyes. And then self-preservation kicked in, surprising her. A need for distance, for a last attempt at independence, welled within her.

“Not yet,” she mumbled feebly, and cleared her throat to try again.

“Wait a minute.”

He immediately stilled, his breathing harsh and erratic.

Well, at least she wasn’t the only one affected. The thought gave her a sense of control, and she drew on her reserves to resist the sexual temptation throbbing against her.
Throbbing and willing…

She coughed into a hand and pushed at his chest for space. He slowly lowered her to the floor, making her very conscious of the sodden panties between her legs. As if he sensed her thoughts, he gave her a tight smile, his eyes fairly glowing.

“Your minute’s nearly up.”

“I meant slow down,” she breathed. “Just an hour ago you were jumping all over my last nerve. I come home to find my study torn apart, and you show up ready and willing to seduce me.”

“It worked.”

“Not quite.” She didn’t understand how she could feel so attracted to the man and so annoyed at the same time.
It worked
. She wanted to kiss—no—
punch
that smugness right off his face. “I want you out of here, right now. I have some thinking to do.” The look she gave him should have hustled him right out the door.

Instead he drew her closer, much to her outrage…and delight.

“I have some
thinking
to do too. About what to do with S. M. Ryans, a woman with way too much knowledge about the Dracon clan, and too many opinions for her own good.” She blanched. How the hell had he found out? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He gave her a look that said little for her intelligence.

“Ryans? The Dracon researcher? I heard he lived in Scotland and was about ninety years old.”

“You don’t lie well at all.”

She swallowed loudly, more than unnerved by his piercing study.

With the information she had on the secretive clan, she could do some serious damage. The Dracon guarded their secrets and didn’t suffer publicity without retaliation. She’d been lucky thus far to remain fairly anonymous.

“Don’t worry, Lea. I’m going to take good care of you. After all, I wouldn’t want the Venlays angry with me. Your family has quite a reputation among my kind.” He drew her close, his body putting off some major heat. Unfortunately, the desire in his eyes had been replaced by an iron reserve.

My family lives to
hunt
, she wanted to say but didn’t think it wise.

Instead she tried to shrug, and his embrace grew tighter.

“Outside.”

She moved with him, not by choice, but because each time she tried to resist he squeezed her until she felt as if she’d pass out. Though she hated to admit it, she much preferred his kisses to the steely-eyed Dracon leading her all too easily. Once out the back door, he released her.

“We’re leaving for a while, Lea. Ever flown under the moonlight on a windy night?” he asked, his voice raspy.

She stared, wide-eyed, as he shimmered into another form altogether. One minute he stood as a man, the next his body misted into a golden light, which suddenly coalesced into a twenty-foot long, shiny green dragon with color-changing eyes. Wings unfurled from his back, huge gray-green appendages spanning his entire body.

Staring at what she’d only ever seen in books and on the television, she gaped at his massive form. He snarled and stared at her, and she imagined climbing onto his back and gripping his neck before they took to the sky.

She shook her head.
Took to the sky?
Sure, until he rolled and she fell to her death, one less S. M. Ryans in the world. “No way.” 

Again the image appeared, persisting though she had no intention of riding a dragon. She’d fantasized about it more times than she could count, but a fear of heights, and being skewered into little pieces by the hungry giants, had killed the dream.

When she shook her head a third time, he snapped his teeth and a small flame darted from his breath.

She stilled.
A fire-breather
. Here. At her house. One of the rarest of the Dracon species. A high born, perhaps of noble blood. A shapeshifter that could actually emit flame. What she could learn from Dekker would be invaluable to her work. A work any Dracon would be more than happy to bury rather than see it read by the public.

She eyed him again, knowing his patience had nearly run dry. Then she had a sudden image of herself sprawled out on a large bed, naked and moaning as he fitted his very human head between her thighs.

“You’ve been sending me those pictures, I take it?” she said wryly, her face hot. He stared and cocked his head in that familiar manner.

“I’m not normally so slow, but I’ve never been face to face with a live dragon before. So sue me.”

A flash of her bent over his lap as he spanked her hard appeared, followed by her climbing onto his dragon back and riding with him into the night.

“Oh, hell. Fine. I’ll climb on.” Much as she would have liked to turn her back on the whole mess, her intellect, and libido, were screaming at her to jump on his back before he decided to leave without her.

Riding a dragon. The opportunity of a lifetime
.

“But you let me fall to my death and I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.”

He huffed in what sounded like satisfaction.

“Wait here while I get my coat. I promise I’ll be right out.” She left before he could argue, throwing on her coat as she hurriedly rejoined him outside. The bitter chill of the night had deepened, and a full moon pushed between two large clouds, illuminating western North Carolina’s mountains. A few dragons flew in the distance, and she wondered if she’d soon be joining them. Preferably not as the main course.

* * *

Ferin soared through the air, the heady delight of wind through his wings and over his body a mental aphrodisiac addicting him more than any drug.
Almost better than sex.
“Almost” being the key word. The woman on top of him reminded him just how long he’d been without female companionship, and that only added to the myriad complications surrounding Lea Venlay. He knew he’d best curb his desire for the woman into more mundane matters, like finding out just what she really knew about the Dracon royal line. And why the hell she stirred him like no other.

The damned woman was human, not a drop of Dracon in her that he and his brothers could sense. He felt her shiver above him and gradually dropped several feet. They’d nearly reached his home deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains, the heart of Dracon Mount, as his people called it.

For hundreds of years the Dracon and human population had lived as one. Initially, his kind had lived in secret, word of their alternate, dragon form existing in old tales and lore, until humankind had pegged dragons as no more than fanciful myth. Then Daryn Venlay had found and befriended one of Ferin’s forefathers, and the Dracon were introduced to the world.

The Dracon—men and women who appeared like any other, save they could transform into magical, legendary beasts. Rumors still abounded about Ferin’s people, and he liked the mystery surrounding them. What the humans didn’t know would keep his kind safe.

Because not all of the humans had embraced the merging of cultures. Dracon-haters lived everywhere, and a high price had been attached to anything with dragon origin, which, unfortunately, drew all kinds of “hunters.” Unlike those vultures, however, the Venlays had a more personal gripe with the Dracon.