The Dragon Stirs (3 page)

The raven stretched its wings and ruffled its feathers in eager anticipation. 

The energy hummed with desire, with need. Filled with want. It rushed through him, firing his blood, igniting every nerve ending, torching his skin until his entire body vibrated with unfulfilled hunger.

The air stilled, his heart pounded and his finger bent forward to tap the very tip of her nose.

Her hand clamped around his wrist the next second. Firm, lethal. The energy surged at the contact and flooded his system as it blended with hers, the cocktail a heady mix of pure addiction. 

Her movements became a graceful dance of precision and reflex. In one fluid motion, she turned, twisted his arm down pulling him off balance, then succinctly flipped him over her shoulder. His back hit the cement with a resounding thud and a gust of expressed air.

Holy Fuck.
She was hot.

Louk’s own reflexes kicked in, years of practice and training surfacing to automate his movements. A quick roll saved his neck from the downward plunge of her boot, the dust and mouse droppings scattering in the force of the wake. He pushed to his feet and immediately ducked to avoid the high-kicked foot aimed for his head.

“I told you not to touch me,” she seethed followed by a series of spins, kicks and quick arm jabs. 

Obviously, she’d had some serious training in the martial arts. Louk ducked, dodged, rolled and spun his way around every move. He bounced lightly on his toes, anticipating the next move and chuckled each time her advance missed its mark. 

The girl could fight.

And damn, did that turn him on. 

In their world, either you knew how to fight—how to defend and protect yourself—or you died.

“Hell, sweet cheeks,” he drawled, avoiding another spin-kick combo. “It was just too tempting.”

She growled in frustration and advanced again. “My name is not sweet cheeks.” She emphasized the point with an attempted jab to his head.

“With an ass as fine as yours—” he ducked, spun, then grazed a hand over the round mounds of the body part in question, “—it really should be.”

She gasped and spun away from his touch. “
Asshole.
That’s what I’ll call you.” 

“Ah, you can do better than that.”

“Dick.” She kicked.

He ducked. “Got one.” 

“Jerk.” She swiped.

He spun. “Not really.”

“Arrogant, pig head, scum.” She jabbed, kicked, kicked.

He dodged, twisted, rolled. “No ring to it.”

They both paused. He smiled as he waited for her next move. And he knew she would have one. Unable to resist the taunt, he poked at her. “Ready to call uncle, again?” It was a lot like poking a stick at an angry lion through the bars at the zoo. Only there weren’t any bars to hide behind, which only made it more exciting.

She exploded from her crouch in a wild movement of arms and legs all choreographed to flow in an unending blend of grace. It was beautiful to watch, her body bending and moving in an elegant symphony of rhythm and skill. Each action distinct and effortless, blending into the next without pause. Without thought.

A lethal ballerina intent on destruction.

It was so mesmerizing that he was almost tempted to let her land a hit. Almost.

He waited until the very last second before he spun then blocked her downward drop punch. Her eyes widened, but she turned and led with a side swipe. Louk prepped and timed his movement so he effectively grabbed her arm, twisted, caught the second arm and held her immobile before him.

They stared at each other, their breaths mingling and disintegrating between them, their muscles tense, tight, prepared. 

“Check,” was all he said. He cocked a half grin and gloated a little at his triumph. He had her in a win-tight hold.

Her eyes were dark depths of raging fire. She grinned slightly, then raised a knee with a sharp intent at reaching his balls. Prepared, he easily dodged the obvious move. She took advantage of his distraction and twirled her body around causing him to loosen his hold on her arms. Just as quickly, she reached up, grabbed his pointer finger and snapped it in one clean break.

“Mate,” she said, victory ringing in her voice.

“Son of a bitch!” He yanked his finger out of her grasp and gave his injured hand a shake. His aching finger was pointing outward at an odd angle and throbbed in shallow beats in time with his heart.

She stepped back, smiling like a dragon sitting on her stash of jewels. “I told you I’d break it.”

“Well, God dammit, woman. You didn’t have to be so literal.” He snapped the finger back into place, then made a big show of tucking the injury under his arm and wincing in pain even though the energy would quickly heal it.

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed and arched her eyes into a dramatic roll. “It’s just a finger. I didn’t know Energens were such wussies.”

He pounced. One second he was playing up the injury the next he was on her. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down with his momentum to the cement. His back took the impact of their joint fall, but he rolled and trapped her beneath him before she had a chance to react. 

She pushed against his chest until he trapped her wrists, pulled them over her head and pinned them to the ground. Her body wiggled and bucked beneath him. He groaned, the intimate contact rubbing against his cock and burning a need within him. 

Louk dropped more of his weight onto her. “I don’t want to crush you, but you needed to stop unless you want me to fuck you right here. Right now.” She stilled. “I thought you’d feel that way.”

“I thought your finger hurt,” she puffed out between short breaths.

“I thought you were smarter than that.” 

She pursed her lips before releasing a sigh. “Point to you. Now let me up.”

She felt too good beneath him. Too perfect. He couldn’t think like that. But the raven cooed a soft note of pure happiness and rode high on the currents. The energy swirled and blended between them. Every contact point became an open vessel of exchange—his to hers, hers to his. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt.

Ever wanted.

“What are you doing to me?” he growled, his voice three octaves lower than normal.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Me? It’s not me. It’s
you
."

He let his eyes close and concentrated on the energy. Within him it was building, churning, humming in desire. Her energy entered and called to him, enticing him to succumb, to let go and try. Just a sample. Maybe more.

Around them, the energy pulsed to its own beat of expectation. It pushed at him, the pressure was physical and weighed against his body like a stone block pressing on his back, forcing him closer to her. Airiana.

The enemy.

His desire.

 “No,” he denied trying to focus on his task. His brother. “It’s not me.”

“Then why am I feeling this?” Her frustration and confusion mirrored his in the tightening of her brows, the slight flaring of her nostrils. 

“So, you feel it too?” He winked, trying to bluff off his unwanted attraction. “Thanks for sharing.”

She grunted, an irritated sound from deep in her throat. “Damn you. Just let me up.” She attempted to buck him off by forcing her chest up and trying to brace her legs for leverage. It didn’t work. 

“You’d better pray that there’s no mouse shit in my hair.” She continued to struggle, and his cock couldn’t help but notice. She rubbed against it intimately, roughly, suggestively which heightened the energy and torched the flame that burned within him.

“Rule of engagement number four—never give up an advantage.” He ground his hips into her lower body and smiled. “And I definitely have the advantage.”

He licked his lips and attempted to push back the desire her movements heightened. When she continued to buck, he closed his eyes and groaned as his cock hardened more and throbbed in aching need beneath his jeans. A barrier that did nothing to dull the sensation she created with her movements.

“You really do want to get fucked, don’t you?” He opened his eyes as she gasped and stilled. Surprise or anger? No. It was clearly a matched desire that smoldered in her rich, coffee colored eyes. Her pupils were large, her lids hooded, her mouth opened slightly in invitation.

Her tongue slicked out to wet her lips in a slow slice of sensuality. Intentional? Planned? Strategic? He didn’t know. Didn’t care. 

The invitation was extended and he was going to accept, damn the consequences. Damn the reprimands. At that moment, she was all he needed. Wanted. 

And he was going to have her. No matter the cost.

Chapter Five

Airiana’s chest constricted and tightened. A reaction that had nothing to do with the weight of the man pressing on her. The fired burned and flamed within her—it poured through her suddenly lethargic limbs and ignited every need she’d ever suppressed.

The energy pulsed in time with her hammering heart, fresh waves of desire cascading over her senses and drowning her in barely contained passion. 

How? The energy collar usually dulled and diluted the energy, made it unusable until it became almost nonexistent to the wearer. So why was it rolling through her, whispering hints of satisfaction, of mutual need, of an inevitable outcome that was useless to resist? It blended with Louk’s energy to form an elegant dance of seduction that enticed her to join, to move with the rhythm and ignore the rest. 

His head descended, and she didn’t turn away. Didn’t fight. His lips stroked across hers in a brief brush of trial. A slow savoring that came back to swipe over her lips in repeated brushes of temptation. A lazy acquaintance building that heightened the sensation and filled her with longing. His lips were as soft as they looked and tender in a way that surprised her and lured her in deeper.

She sighed and closed her eyes. The dragon swirled and danced in time with the building energy. The nerve endings on the back of her hand tingled and itched with the joyous preening as it stroked its whiskers and licked sensually over its claws.

She didn’t pretend to understand the reaction. The dragon or her own. There would be time for that later.

Now, she opened her mouth in permission. In acceptance. And moaned softly as his tongue stroked over her inner lip then into her waiting mouth. It was a slow perusal of mingling inquisition. Of discovery and reconnaissance. 

His mouth was warm, his breath ragged, his tongue dominant, but not controlling as it mingled with hers. There was no battle for position, struggle for superiority. Strategy had fled to be replaced by mutual respect for the moment. 

He pulled back a fraction. “Louk.”

Her mind fuzzed. She opened her eyes. “What?”

“My name,” he said, his blue eyes expressive with need. “Loukianos. Louk.”

Comprehension dawned. He was giving her something. And that small gesture slammed against her heart like a bowling ball to a plate glass window. 

No one had ever given her anything. In her world, everything was earned.

She lifted her head and reclaimed his mouth with barely controlled need. She didn’t want to think. At all. She only wanted to feel, and his mouth was an inferno of sensation. The energy burned through her, her nerves prickled in awareness, her skin coursed with shivers. Her nipples tightened and ached with a need that was only surpassed by the one building in her core.

His swollen, hard cock rubbed against her inner thigh hot and insistent. The friction enticing, but not nearly enough.

His lips trailed away from her mouth to nip under her jaw and over her earlobe. 

“What are you doing to me?” His whispered breath caressed her senses causing the tiny hairs on her neck to rise in excitement.

She tilted her head, an open invitation for more. He complied and traced lazy circles over the sensitive area with his tongue. She moaned and tugged on the arms he still held captive over her head. 

“Let me go,” she begged. His grip tightened, and she gave another pull. “Let me touch.”

His hold immediately loosened and it only took a second before her hands were buried in the soft folds of his hair, the silky texture brushing over her palms and twining between her fingers. He arched his head up and closed his eyes, completely absorbed in her stroking. A low moan escaped his lips as his eyes pried open to look down at her.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” The back of his hand stroked lightly over her cheek. “You’re my sworn enemy, but I can’t stop myself. The energy is too strong, too powerful to resist.”

His admission curled in her gut and pulsed in her heart. “I know, so don’t stop,” she insisted even as she pulled his lips to hers. 

Around them, the wind howled and crashed against the fragile building. It roared like a freight train in its attempts to pummel the metal structure to the ground and left her ears ringing with the intensity of the rage. But, it was ignored. An oblivious background against the storm that was cresting within her.

They joined together in heated sensation. The energy built as his tongue stroked hers, as his fingers brushed her cheek, as a moan lingered and reverberated from deep within her chest. The power hummed and stroked within her until she lost all consciousness of anything but him.

Loukianos.

She soared with the dragon as it lifted on its hind legs and breathed a raging flame of contentment.

Louk’s energy merged with hers until she felt united with him in a synchronous blending of opposing power. Male and Female. Dark and Light. Yin and Yang.

Together, it surged and moved overwhelming everything within her. Her senses heightened until all she knew was his mouth on hers, his hands on her skin, his body covering hers. 

Hers. 

The burning confirmation roared through her even as the world began to tilt. The energy circled around them and built to a whizzing cyclone of pure power. It cloaked them in greedy absolution while siphoning in tandem. 

In that moment of complete euphoria, the darkness invaded.

It leached in and skimmed over her skin in a slimy, icy drenching. On her hand, the dragon reared its head and contorted in pain while around them, the space darkened and the light began to wane.