Lydia and the Draca Read online

  “What does that mean exactly? Do I have special powers? Can I shape-shift like you? Will I have wings, and can I fly, and what am I supposed to do here anyway?”

  Eremon sighed heavily, frustration cracking his cool facade. “It means nothing. It helps nothing. Your help is not needed or wanted. Stop listening to Nareen, and tell her to send you back to your world. While you can still go.”

  Eremon slapped his arms to his sides and pointed his head straight toward the ceiling. In seconds the shadowy form of his Draca self lifted out of his body and flowed like liquid fire over his rigid form. Black and crimson wings cracked open, filling the room from side to side. His head elongated, heavy, scaled curves replacing the rugged human jawline. Crimson scales as red as blood shimmered in the smoky light as his other self roared to life. His mouth gaped open, emitting a single stream of smoky fire that lit up the room, and then he vanished.

  Chapter Six

  Lydia wanted to scream. The most gorgeous, sexy man she had ever met had just rendered her pussy to throbbing wetness and then had turned into a freaking dragon and disappeared.

  Huh. Some kind of alpha hero he was. Lick ‘em and leave ‘em, she thought, giggling a bit hysterically. Certainly no man she had ever known had been so…so demanding. She shivered, remembering his strong hands gripping her hips, forcibly holding her in place while his agile tongue plundered her without even asking first.

  And she didn’t even resist. No, not a bit. Just like when Nareen had kissed her, what seemed like aeons ago. Male or female—they wanted her, and she wanted them right back.

  It was her DNA making everyone so crazy about her?

  It still didn’t add up. And damn it, her body was still zinging. What she wouldn’t give for more one-on-one with the Prince of Draca.

  Surely this latest twist in her Draca drama had earned her a total meltdown. Feeling punchy and abandoned, she looked around for clues to the next episode in this crazy drama. And she was alone again, in deafening silence.

  Too bad she couldn’t figure out how to light the wall sconces, powered by some source she hadn’t discovered yet. Dazed, she wondered if maybe tomorrow she’d be lucky enough to wake up in her own bed in Portland. Maybe Eremon was right. Maybe she should take his advice and find a way out of here before something else happened.

  Suddenly, that was just what she wanted, more than anything. Her own bed, her own apartment, her life back.

  “Hey!” she shouted out to the silent hall. “I want to go home now!” She spun in circles, shouting out in all directions. “He didn’t go for it, in case you were wondering! So whatever we were supposed to do together isn’t going to happen. I want to go home—now!”

  “You can stop yelling,” Camus said. He stood leaning against the wall in almost the same pose Eremon had used. “We will see you again; there is no doubt about that. Good-bye, dear Lydia, for now. And try to remember, it is not a dream.” He waved his hand in a gesture she remembered Nareen using, and then she blinked—and was home.

  *

  “Lydia!” Jennie screamed. “You’re back! Where the hell have you been?”

  Jennie vaulted over the low back of the living room couch and ran over to Lydia, practically tripping as she grabbed her in a tight hug.

  The room tilted from fantasy erotica back to the reality of her life. The contrast between the Draca world and this sudden reality shocked her almost speechless.

  Jennie still had a grip on her. “Girl, you’ve been gone without any word for two days. Repeat, where the hell have you been?”

  “Oh my God, Jennie. I don’t even know how to begin.” Avoiding Jennie’s eyes, she pulled away and headed for the kitchen. Food. She really needed food. Jennie blocked her path and stood accusingly.

  “Look, please be patient with me. I feel grimy and tired, and I’m starving. Can I please talk to you about this later?”

  “Nooo, I don’t think so. At least tell me where you’ve been. It wasn’t with Gary, because he’s been calling and calling. And why the hell didn’t you answer your cell phone? I left you about twenty messages.”

  “Can I pee first?”

  Jennie let her pass to the bathroom. Lydia shut the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes in numb disbelief. How could she explain what had just happened? Would Jennie believe her? Maybe a shower would help. Almost too tired even for that, she peeled off her slinky dress. Her Draca dress.

  It was soaked with sweat and the smell of musky smoke. She tried to ignore the instant arousal it gave her. Eremon had been kneeling with his face between her legs just moments ago.

  She groaned. Frustrated, aroused, and more than a little scared, she turned on the taps and stood for a long while under the hot shower. Finally, feeling a little calmer, she decided to trust their friendship, which had withstood the tides of junior high, high school, and all the years since.

  Lydia settled with Jennie in their usual sharing mode on the bed, cradling a giant bowl of corn chips between them, and proceeded to spill her guts.

  It took an hour to tell the whole story, what with frequent interruptions for more details from an increasingly excited roommate. Finally, Jennie fell back onto the bed and sighed.

  “Jeez, Lydia. It sounds like you’ve been invited to be a sex slave to dragons or something. And you’re related to them? Does this mean I’m best friends with the new superwoman?” They looked at each other, grinning at the total weirdness of it all, and both of them burst out laughing.

  “I know, I know.” Lydia wiped her eyes. “This is not just in my head, right?”

  Jennie shook her head. “You know, that stuff about you being special—haven’t you always been kind of psychic?”

  “Maybe,” Lydia said, hesitant. “Remember how I’d always get one hundred percent on the multiple-choice tests in biology if I focused on Mr. Hadden?”

  Her roommate snorted. “Yeah, and I hated you for that too.”

  She got chills in dawning awareness that there might really be something to the Draca’s assertions.

  Jennie was also connecting the dots. “You’ve always had this kind of good-luck thing too, you know? With your jobs and whenever you needed a place to live and stuff like that. Seems like you always got what you wanted easier than the rest of us. You have a way of being in the right place at the right time, more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “Huh.” That only strengthened the growing tightness in her stomach. “Well, these things didn’t work with relationships. Just look at Gary.” Psychic or not, she attracted losers, her current ex a case in point. He’d been needy and yet sexy in that way that always got to her, sucking her in again with his codependent but attractive sad story. She was tired of taking care of fucked-up men.

  Maybe she was getting some emotional baggage sorted out here, with her special powers. Images filled her mind of the Draca, wings spread in that huge, black cave. A deep yearning crept in—for that dark space, for the glowing golden walls, and the tall, muscular creature who had kissed her.

  “Wow,” Lydia said softly. “Maybe you’re on to something here.”

  Jennie’s eyes had shut, and she yawned as she answered, “Yeah, I know. I could produce a reality TV show just about you.”

  Lydia sat up against the headboard and couldn’t help a smile. All things considered, this was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to her. Sudden understanding hit her in the chest—she knew she had to see this thing through, whatever that meant.

  “Hey, I think I figured something else out,” she said, noticing Jennie had gotten very quiet. “Are you awake?” she asked softly, peering over Jennie’s back, trying to see if her eyes were open.

  Jennie uttered a small snore. Needing reassurance that something was still the same, Lydia leaned over and stared at Jennie’s face. For some reason, she focused on Jennie’s full, pink lips and felt reality shift beneath her. Why was she noticing Jennie’s lips? What was happening to her?

  Sudden exhaustion flooded Lydia, a
nd sleep suddenly seemed like a really good idea. She nudged Jennie awake. “Hey girlfriend—time for bed.”

  Jennie stood up with a big yawn. “You better wake me if one of those creatures shows up, okay?”

  “You really believe me, Jennie? You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “I totally believe you. And besides”—she paused—“didn’t you say your hunk of burning love has brothers?”

  They burst into giggles again, and Jennie shuffled off to her own room. Lydia watched her go, feeling a swell of love and appreciation. Thank God for Jennie, her most loyal friend. Even in this bizarre episode, she stayed true.

  Lydia closed her eyes. Her head wanted to sleep, but her body had other ideas. Her skin buzzed and tingled, and her breasts felt swollen. Erotic images of Eremon tormented her, and remembering his hot tongue darting deep inside of her made her want to reach for the vibrator.

  This was so not helping. She really should just go to sleep and quit thinking along these lines. Yet newly awakened sexual awareness, like a tiny seedling emerging from winter’s cold, stirred from the center of her being. This awakening had started with the Draca, but the seeds had always been inside of her. Remembering Eremon’s hot, wet tongue in her mouth, and then on her pussy, elicited a sexual hunger like she’d never felt before. She wanted to welcome the hunger and find a way to feed it. Feed all of her aroused senses, clamoring for more. There was no way she could explain this to anyone right now.

  She groaned and rolled over. A big, hard reality check was coming tomorrow morning—she had to go to work. How convenient the Draca had kidnapped her on a weekend.

  Determined to quiet the erotic imagery and burning questions, she pulled a spare pillow over her head. She needed total quiet and total dark. Tomorrow…tomorrow she’d figure something out.

  As Lydia finally drifted off, she listened to the familiar sounds from outside: a neighbor’s door slammed, cars crunched in the driveway. All as it should be. Yet she knew nothing would ever be the same. The rules of her universe had changed, and she had a sinking feeling there’d be no going back.

  Chapter Seven

  Lydia woke to the blaring of her alarm.

  “How long are you going to ignore that noise?” Jennie flung the covers back, and Lydia tried to burrow deeper.

  “Go away.”

  “Hey, look at that.” Jennie tapped her shoulder with one finger. “Your birthmarks are right where a flying creature’s wings might be.”

  “What?” Lydia sat up, blinking and yawning. “My birthmarks?”

  “Yeah, check it out. They’re right near your shoulder blades. I’ve always thought they were kind of an unusual shape. My girl Draca!” Jennie grinned at her.

  Lydia gazed, bleary-eyed, at Jennie. “You’re making fun of my birthmarks, and I’m not even awake yet.” She pushed the straps of her camisole down and craned her neck to see the spot Jennie indicated.

  “I am not making fun of you.”

  “Yes, you are. I’m turning into a freak.”

  “Well, wings or no, you better get up for work.”

  “Shit.” Lydia climbed out of bed, dazed and grumpy. This particular reality sucked. She’d rather be having a fantasy adventure than face her nine-to-five.

  She went bleary and exhausted to her receptionist job, and everything seemed normal—but not really. She felt suspended in time, like an actress anxious for a role, waiting for a callback.

  Two weeks later, she hadn’t heard a peep from her other world. She’d changed her mind a dozen times about whether she wanted to go back. They hadn’t contacted her, but Camus said she’d see them again. So how long was she supposed to wait?

  It was the strangest inner conflict she’d ever faced. Sometimes she thought she heard or felt something and would whirl around—Is it them? But it never proved to be anything.

  Jennie accepted everything about Lydia’s new reality and noticed things even Lydia hadn’t realized. And she kept teasing her about her mark of tiny wings.

  She went to work and grocery shopping and all the normal things a planet-Earth girl would do. As the days stretched on, she could almost tell herself it had never happened. Even with the faint tingling feeling at the back of her neck and her jumpiness at whispered sounds, she tried to fool herself that life was settling down. Yet her exploding sensory awareness insisted things were not normal.

  She felt bombarded with sensation, experiencing the sights, sounds, and feelings of what had once been her normal life in a brilliantly painful new way. The white, bright spotlight of enhanced senses tormented and teased her, all day and half of every night.

  Something had happened to her in that weird fantasy place. The few things she remembered Nareen saying went round and round in her head. She was special…

  Her only relief came at home. Jennie didn’t question or grumble; she simply helped her keep the curtains drawn and the lights turned down. Music, if they even played it, was muted, their cell phone rings as low as possible. Anything that could make sound or emit light was muffled, turned off, or turned down.

  “You’re turning our house into the bat cave, you know,” Jennie observed.

  Lydia tossed her purse onto the couch and kicked off her shoes. She looked around their little apartment. Outside it was still light, but inside everything was so dark she could hardly see the far side of the room.

  “Huh, I guess you’re right,” she said, surprised at the analogy.

  They had both just gotten home from work. Lydia moved into the kitchen and turned on the one remaining dim light. She looked around. It was true—and the darker and more closed-in the house got, the safer and calmer Lydia felt. Inside, in the dark and quiet, her overheated senses had a chance to cool off.

  She remembered the cave the Draca had taken her to, and shivered. Images of a glowing cave full of mystery and flying creatures haunted her nights. No matter how quiet or dark the house got, there was no escaping the dreams, or the feelings they aroused in her. She’d wake up covered in sweat, her breasts aching and wetness soaking her panties. She no longer considered the dreams nightmares, just an ongoing source of exquisite frustration.

  She relived Eremon’s kiss over and over, his hot mouth on her aching pussy… She wanted only him. Every man she’d ever known paled in comparison. And nothing could take away the ache of frustrated, intense arousal; not even pleasuring herself brought any real relief.

  Camus had said she’d be back. When…when would that happen?

  Another week went by. Lydia found herself alone at her reception desk at work. The rest of the staff had gone to lunch, and she’d taken the opportunity to turn down the lights. She’d been finding that the overhead fluorescent lights in particular made her skin itch and hurt in tiny pinpricks of pain.

  Prompted by some instinct she didn’t understand, she lifted her arm and stretched it out, squinting to imagine a dragon claw. She stared at her hand, at the spaces between her fingers, and pictured gold scales and bronze talons. What must it be like? she mused, her hand held suspended in air while she contemplated it. What must it be like for all that thick sharpness to just erupt out of your skin?

  Relaxing in the quiet office, she leaned back in her chair and let her eyes close…

  And saw sun, blazing across the desert. A fitful wind blew hot across her face, and the prospect for shade had all but disappeared. In the distance, a dragon. A fallen dragon, one parched near to death, his head sunk so low, his eyes were bare slits above the dunes. He seemed an eternity away, to reach him would mean agonizing steps across the sands. Yet she knew he waited. Waited for her.

  Lydia thought she might be dreaming, but the look in the dragon’s eyes propelled her feet. She hissed in pain as she stumbled toward him as fast as she could manage, until she reached the small bit of shade afforded by his enormous body. His eyes were hooded shut, the guttural sounds of his breathing slow. She reached a hand out to his side, tracing with wonder the bloodred scales. Shudders rippled under her hand, and his neck
slithered around so his fierce eyes could see her. All coherent thought fled as she realized for the first time that she was naked.

  Eremon’s long snout opened, and rows of razor teeth showed. She didn’t even consider it a threat. Instead, a bolt of sexual heat shot up her middle.

  “Thirsty. You.”

  The thought rang clear. Eremon’s voice, although deeper and more guttural.

  “Thirsty—You!” he emphasized, making sure she understood.

  Lydia felt the thirst too. Thirst for water, and thirst for something else. Something she didn’t dare give a name to.

  “Closer.”

  She bumped up against his side, her breasts and groin just touching his scales. He moved his snout against her side, snuffling at her until she’d turned and faced him. He nudged between her legs. A great taboo was being violated. This had to be wrong, on so many different levels. Yet her knees weakened and opened for more.

  A small growl vibrated the sand beneath them, and smoky, pungent breath blew hot at her breasts, down her stomach, across her damp curls.

  Eremon, naked and entirely human, had his head pressed between her legs, as she lay sprawled across the sand. The gritty surface cradled her in impossible coolness. His tongue licked up her center, and she cried out. Lapping. Drinking. Yes…Eremon had been dying of thirst, and she was here to give him her waters, the waters of her most intimate self.

  She flooded for him, twisting and arching as his tongue speared her again and again—wanting it all, helpless to stop herself. Shuddering, the body between her legs changed, and it was a dragon’s long tongue lapping at her, Eremon, shifting back and forth from man to Draca, wings folded tight against scaled sides. Forbidden, so forbidden, this rapture at the mouth of a dragon, yet she pressed down against the meaty pulse of his alien tongue in a blinding orgasm that left her gasping, her throat parched and dry as the air.

  When she could focus again, Eremon sprawled on his stomach. He looked unconscious. Dark hair spread like blood across the sand. His normally bronze skin glowed alabaster against the desert glare.