Lydia and the Draca Page 5

  The landscape had filled with small groups of other Draca. Some human, some in their predator forms. Parched, gray dust had settled over everything. The clusters of Draca lay motionless.

  “Thirst,” Lydia heard, the communication clear like before.

  Eremon rolled to his back and groaned . He looked up at her with eyes turned gold and slitted, predator eyes. More. He needed more. He made an inarticulate sound, lunging upward and yanking her down on top of him. His mouth feasted on hers, sucking at her tongue, a man drinking to save his life… His arms crushed her to his chest, his cock hard and throbbing against her stomach. He pulled her up so his mouth could reach her breasts and suckled them, biting the nipples and tugging as if milk could flow. Yet he made no move to enter her. She wanted that—she wanted all of him.

  Reaching between them, she grasped his rigid length. He jerked in shock, forcibly pulling her hands away from him, but she would have none of it. Quickly, before he could stop her, she slid down his chest and took his entire throbbing cock in her mouth. He filled her, the rigid veins pulsing against her tongue, his cock, like the rest of him, so dry and hot. She let the wetness of her mouth coat every inch, sucking him as hard as she dared.

  His groans rang out over the dunes, the heads of the Draca lifting in response. The breeze stirred again and kicked the sand into swirling eddies. Eremon pulled Lydia up by the arms and flipped her over, laying his full weight on her, sinking her into the forgiving sand. He plundered her mouth, and she kissed him back with all her pent-up passion. Eremon slid three long, callused fingers deep into her aching middle and pressed down. Her back arched over his perfect touch, wetness pouring over his hand as she let go in an erotic explosion of lust that threatened to undo her completely.

  His forehead leaning against hers, both of them breathing hard, he pulled his dripping hand up to his face. Deliberately, keeping his eyes on her, he brought his fingers to his mouth. He licked them off, one by one, closing his eyes in bliss.

  Eremon put the fingers to her own lips, and she opened her mouth and tasted her feminine self on him…

  “Hey! Who turned off the lights?”

  Lydia snapped to attention, stunned by the shift from her vision of the desert to her office at work. She spun to face her boss as light flooded the room.

  “Ah…just me…sorry. These overhead lights have been giving me headaches.”

  Dylan raised his eyebrows in inquiry as he strode toward his office door. “You okay, Lydia? You’ve been awfully quiet lately.”

  She suppressed an enbarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been having some trouble sleeping lately, that’s all.”

  “Well, if there’s something you’d like to talk about, just let me know.” And then he disappeared into his office.

  Sure, she thought. Pull up a chair. You like fantasy novels? Trying to get a grip, she upended her water bottle and drank the entire contents. She was so damn thirsty all of a sudden. With a rueful smirk at her own weirdness, she wondered how she was going to finish the day almost weeping with crazy arousal.

  *

  As she walked slowly to the bus stop after work, she stopped when she got to a rosebush, unseasonably blooming next to a short wooden fence. Something compelled her to stop and touch the soft blossoms. She bent to sniff the improbable winter buds, and tears welled in her eyes. The desert sun, the man and creature, had ignited all her senses, and now everything seemed magnified. She touched the soft petals of the flower, and instant tinges of heat pulsed between her legs. Eremon’s face rose in her mind, his eyes blazing at her in the seconds before he shape-shifted…

  Lust and longing haunted the edges of everything. Like a beat in her blood, a pounding of enhanced sensual awareness clouded her mind and whispered promises she couldn’t quite hear and had no way to respond to. Control seemed to be seeping away from her—again. Normal life should have restored the feeling that she controlled her own daily life, but the erotic incident in her office had shown how wrong she’d been about that.

  She made it to the bus stop on time and climbed aboard with a sigh of relief. Fortunately, the bus was unusually quiet with no one sitting too close. For a blessed few moments, she felt an easing of the bombardment of her senses and gave a small sigh of relief.

  Just let it go, Lydia told herself. Let go of images of dragons. Sitting quietly, she looked out the window as the bus rumbled down the narrow street.

  “Good day, my lady,” a tiny voice said behind her.

  Lydia squeaked and whirled to look behind her.

  Camus leaned around and peeked up over the armrest at her. He was standing on the floor directly behind her seat.

  “Camus—oh my God!”

  He slid around her legs and hopped up beside her.

  Camus the Draca was sitting next to her on a city bus. She darted a look around at the other passengers—no one was looking.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

  Camus cleared his throat, his normally cheerful face screwed up in anxiety. “You must go back,” he said. “Or Nareen will do something very, very bad to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was never supposed to let you return to this time. Nareen is most displeased with me. Worse, she has invoked the rule of council.” He said it like it was the most awful thing that could happen.

  Heaving a great sigh, Camus turned and looked out the window.

  What, that’s all he was going to tell her? Damn it, her newly aware senses were useless with the Draca. They didn’t seem to help her understand these creatures at all. Her eyes started to water as smoke wafted up from their seat. She looked again to see if anyone noticed, but they remained almost alone in the bus.

  “Lydia, my dear, I am here to ask for your permission to bring you back to our world—and to give you time to prepare yourself.” Camus’s face scrunched up tight. “I have, as the humans say, screwed up big-time, and it is my mission to convince you to willingly return.”

  So many emotions warred in Lydia’s chest, she hardly knew what to do or say next. She didn’t have a single doubt about anything Camus said, yet an appropriate response failed her. She opened her mouth, closed it. Then it didn’t matter, because the bus pulled over for her stop. She turned to warn him, but he had disappeared.

  *

  It so figured that he would disappear like that. Lydia walked the six blocks to the apartment in a fury of conflicted feelings. They wanted her to come back, but of her own free will. Wow. Decision time.

  She headed into the house just as a scream echoed out of the kitchen.

  “Jennie!” Lydia ran through the house to find Jennie holding a pot like a baseball bat at Camus, who leaned, cool as could be, against the kitchen cupboards.

  “Call 911!” Jennie yelled. “We have a breakin.”

  “No, Jennie, it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s Camus. Remember the story? It’s Camus, Jennie. Put down the pot.”

  “Camus?” The pot landed on the floor with a loud clang. “Are you—Is he…?”

  Camus made a deep bow. “Camus, of the Garnet Clan.”

  Jennie slid down the wall until she sat on the kitchen floor, her eyes wide. “Oh. My. God. You’re one of them.” Jennie held out her hand toward Camus. “I, ah…I am very pleased to meet you. I’m sorry I almost hit you with the pasta pot.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Lydia made tea. The three of them sat at the tiny kitchen table and cautiously sipped, eyes meeting over the steam from their cups. Lydia could feel Jennie’s excitement, along with her own churning gut, but she still didn’t have a clue about her next move. Camus said little, managing to answer their questions while revealing practically nothing. The sense that something huge was stirring right under the surface of her understanding persisted.

  “We need you,” Camus repeated, “but we will not force you to return. You must make this decision on your own. No matter what you decide, we will honor your feelings. If you choose to stay here, you will not
be bothered by us again.”

  How they needed her, or why, he steadfastly refused to answer.

  She flashed on the incident in the office today. She could think of someone she needed, and she knew exactly why.

  “How do you feel?” he said, when she demanded to know more.

  “What do you mean? I feel crazy!”

  “No, I mean how do you feel?”

  Lydia stared at him. How did she feel? Overamped, overstimulated, and horny as hell! Was that what he meant? She hit the table with her palm in frustration.

  Camus jumped at the noise, a small grin lighting his face. “Ah… You feel much, yes?”

  “Stop playing word games with me. I want answers!” Lydia pushed away from the table. This was going nowhere.

  “The answers you seek are with my kin,” he said finally, his face serious and hopeful both. “I promise, you will understand everything once you return to us. You will see.”

  Completely crazy. That’s what this was. She glared at Camus and looked to Jennie for help. Jennie shrugged. Her eyes clearly said she didn’t have a clue either.

  Camus stood. “I will return in a few hours. This will be your last chance to help us.”

  He looked worried at that, like he thought Lydia might truly say no. Before she could respond with more questions, he made a curious wave with his hands and disappeared, leaving a faint trail of smoke circling in the kitchen.

  *

  They started arguing about it as soon as Camus disappeared.

  “What do you mean, go back with him?” Jennie exploded. “Now you’re really talking crazy.”

  “Wasn’t it you going on about how cool all the sexy stuff was?” Lydia felt curiously defensive and headed up the stairs to her room. She didn’t need these accusations right now. All she wanted was for Jennie to help her with this, not make it worse.

  “Don’t change the subject.” Jennie trotted up after her and slipped into her room before Lydia could close the door behind her. She glared at Lydia, her hands on her hips. “We’re talking about you actually volunteering to leave planet-Earth time. And go to another other dimension. With shape-changing creatures and beautiful, kissable dragon people. Without me!”

  Lydia flopped down on the bed. “It’s insane, I know… I mean, they never even explained what it is they want me to do… But damn it, Jennie! You know what life has been like for me lately…” Lydia rolled over on her face and groaned her frustration to the bedspread. “Actually, you don’t know the half of it. I’m so turned on all the time, and I can’t get Eremon out of my head. And I mean day or night.”

  Jennie fell back onto the bed next to Lydia. “I feel like we’re in the twilight zone.”

  “Exactly. And you’re the only thing keeping me sane. Please, Jennie, help me do this. You know I have to see this through.”

  Jennie rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “What if you never come back? It’s not like I could mount a rescue party.”

  Right. What about that? What about if she couldn’t get back, what then? There was no one who’d really worry about her except Jennie. Her parents had passed away, and Jennie was all she had in terms of family.

  Lydia’s heart squeezed. So many unanswered questions. Her practical self screamed at her to use her head, while all her pent-up sensual longings clamored for relief. That newly enhanced sexual self was saying, Find that shape-shifting creature and fuck his brains out!

  This thing inside her, boiling and churning—Camus seemed to think it was her Draca blood calling to her, whispered voices just under the surface, urging her to embrace and accept.

  They remained silent as the reality of Lydia’s choices sunk in. The ends of the earth beckoned, and even though she hadn’t said she’d go, the decision had been made. An irresistible course had been laid out; how could she not find out what would happen next?

  “It sucks how much I am going to miss you,” Jennie said.

  Lydia sat up and gave her a warm hug. “Thank you, Jen girl,” she said fervently. “For everything. You know I love you, and if there’s any way to include you in on this, I will.”

  “I know,” Jennie whispered. “Just come back to me, okay? And bring some of Dragon Boy’s family members with you.”

  Giggling broke the tension, and Lydia took a deep breath and looked around. “Do you think I need to pack a bag?” She pulled off her work shirt and sat in her bra, trying to think about what clothes or supplies she should bring.

  “Did you need one before?” The voice came from the vicinity of the floor next to the bed, and both of them screamed.

  “Camus! Stop doing that!” Lydia scolded. “And get out of here!” She scrambled to cover herself and glared at him.

  His eyes gleamed with obvious aroused interest. “Such luscious, human woman flesh,” he said admiringly.

  “Stop looking and wipe that drool off your face! Go wait in the other room. I’ll be right out.”

  He lingered. “Does this mean the answer is yes?”

  “I said go.”

  They went looking for Camus a short while later and found him glued to the television. He sat mesmerized, clicking the remote over and over, muttering and exclaiming over every channel. “This human thing,” he said. “This television. This I will discuss with the others when I return.” He looked up at them, waiting next to Lydia’s bag. “So, you are sure?”

  “No, but I’m going anyway.”

  “Very well. That is good for all of us, and especially good for Camus.”

  He lifted his hand, and all Lydia had time for was a quick kiss on Jennie’s tear-streaked face before they disappeared.

  Chapter Eight

  Her stomach dropped like a roller coaster, and a few seconds later, Lydia opened her eyes to the Draca world.

  She’d landed on her feet this time. Must be getting better at this part. Familiar cave surroundings were illuminated with some welcome improvements—this one had several high windows that let in cobweb rays of sun. Cut stone walls all around and a high Gothic ceiling curved far overhead. Much smaller than any room she’d see in the Draca world so far, it had only a carved chest and one rather severe-looking, armless chair for furniture.

  Her trembling legs insisted she go for the chair. After a minute, the shakes slowed down, although the chilly air made her regret not wearing more than a thin blouse. She looked at her feet for the bag she and Jennie had packed, but of course, it was nowhere to be seen.

  A closed door across from her beckoned. Should she wait? Or try the door?

  Raised voices started echoing from the other side. She must be in an anteroom, a waiting area off the actual meeting place. Sudden shouting erupted, and responses that sounded like swearing in alien French, raspy scratches like chairs scraping across a gravel floor.

  She sneak-walked to the door and leaned her head against it, straining to hear the words.

  “No!” sounded angry, and something like “stone-headed Draca!” made her eyes go wide. Arguments. She had a sinking feeling the raised voices involved her somehow. Shouting ceased, and the door cracked open. Lydia sprang back with a little shriek, her heart thumping in a two-second meltdown. Then she realized who had come in.

  “Aedhan,” he said, reintroducing himself. “The dark one’s brother.” And he flashed her a conspiratorial smile and wink. “I remember you well.” He radiated good humor and breathtaking handsomeness that ranked right up there with his Draca kin. Sporting fiery orange hair and a wide grin, he towered over Lydia.

  All the Draca towered over Lydia.

  He crooked his arm out, a clear invitation. “I am here to be your escort,” he said. “You may refuse; however, I doubt that you will.”

  Smiling a little, Lydia placed her hand on his wonderfully muscular arm. Maybe she was getting escorted to the equivalent of a firing squad. Whatever. This delightful shape-shifter was Eremon’s brother, and she knew he would lead her right to him.

  The door swung wide to the enormous cavern she had been expe
cting.

  “Do not be afraid of us, my lady. We tend to get quite, ah…vocal.”

  He guided her to the closest end of an immense heavy wooden table. It easily accommodated the seated crowd of shape-shifters on each side. Aedhan took up station next to her without another word.

  She clutched the edge, trying to pretend she wasn’t so self-conscious she could barely breathe. Trails of smoke circled overhead, and stray bits of green scales and claw tips littered the floor.

  She shivered at the sight of all the beautiful, glittering Draca watching her with great interest, and something more besides. She tried to smile, but her lips trembled when the corners lifted. She needed to find him…

  And then she looked to her right.

  Eremon.

  He was more glorious than she remembered. Her eyes drank him in. Mahogany leather pants stretched across muscular thighs; a sleeveless vest showed sinewy arms and large biceps. His burgundy hair, pulled back tightly, harshened the contours of his square jawline.

  Smoke circled the room in remembered tanginess, and the close proximity of her thirsty dream lover caused all kinds of commotion in her lower parts. She wished he would look at her. Surely he could hear her heart pounding almost out of her chest.

  Lydia tore her gaze away from Eremon and looked back to the other Draca staring at her with hooded eyes.

  Someone cleared her throat and ventured, “Is it time yet, Nareen? Can this get started?”

  Attention shifted to the opposite end of the table. Nareen glowed, with her hair pulled back in a burnished red braid and a thin circlet of garnets on her brow. She looked every inch the Draca queen.

  “Welcome back to Dracan,” Nareen said. “We are deeply happy you have come.”

  She gestured toward the empty chair next to Lydia. Glad to disappear a little behind the table, Lydia slid onto the cool wood. Her eyes went wide as she absorbed the collective beauty of the shape-shifters.

  Silky, long gowns barely covered the generous breasts and voluptuous curves of the women, sitting as tall as the men. And the men—Lydia barely suppressed a sigh. Every one of them could have posed for the cover of a romance novel. They wore leather vests similar to Eremon’s, showcasing muscular, bare chests. Their handsome, chiseled faces smiled at her in lusty anticipation.