Lydia and the Draca Page 7

  “So I hear.”

  He finally looked at her. “It isn’t like you are going to sprout wings or anything.” His lips tilted. “You are not Draca in the full sense. You carry DNA, yes. But not enough to send you flying into our skies.”

  She couldn’t help a teasing grin. “Oh. Well. That’s disappointing.”

  He flashed her a surprised smile, the warmth in his emerald eyes so different from before. “I am sorry for all the subterfuge. You know by now that I never agreed with it. ” He inched closer, until the side of his leg pressed against hers. His eyes went liquid green. The filtered sunlight laid a pattern of shadows across his face, and she could almost hear the compelling voice of the hidden creature inside of him. Calling to her. Yearning for her.

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, slanting his mouth and pressing for her to open for him. In a slow, mesmerizing rhythm, he sucked her tongue, igniting the growing embers in her core. He kissed her long and deep, until she could have pulled him on top of her and spent the rest of the day kissing him senseless.

  His lips slid to her neck, and he murmured against her skin. “I should not do this.”

  Lydia pulled back. “Why not?”

  His arms pulled her close, and she buried her face against his chest, smelling the leather of his vest mixed with his own tangy scent.

  “I had a mate,” he said, so low she could barely catch the words. “Before we realized the full extent of the danger we were in as a race, I allowed it, and she was willing to take the chance. She paid a terrible price….” He stopped and then began again, his voice ragged with pain. “She, and our child, died in childbirth. The birth of a Draca child is very difficult under the best of circumstances. The baby…could not find the way to shift to the birth form…”

  Lydia’s heart contracted, and tears thickened her throat.

  Eremon’s face stayed buried in her hair. “Too many mistakes—too much death. I was so blinded by my own desires, I allowed the death of my mate and child.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I was convinced the end of our race had come, I would not agree to any more of Nareen’s supposed gods-driven plans and her great spells.” He raised his head and met her eyes, memories still clouding his face. “And then Nareen found you. And you are not just a willing human. You are Draca.”

  His eyes searched her face, as if looking for answers.

  “Fine. I kind of get that part. But that next step would be—what, exactly?”

  “We will start with me in my true form, and then, we will see.”

  “Your true form?”

  “My Draca self,” he said with a slight smile. “My inner predator. He insists upon it.”

  Oh. He was going to shape-shift. Her heart jumped. “And what am I supposed to do when you, ah, become your other self?”

  He hesitated just the smallest second. “You will know what to do when it happens.”

  He pulled back and jumped to his feet, raising his arms. In seconds, the liquid flow of his other form raced down his body, and a black and crimson dragon loomed over her. Massive wings in sharp folds hugged the scaled sides. His Draca head twisted on his thickly scaled neck, angling to see her. He flashed the paler, gold-tinted underside, as if showing off.

  Eyes wide at the wonder of it all, still she jumped back. She shrieked when he opened his cavernous muzzle, revealing extremely sharp, spiky teeth, some as fat as small branches.

  “Why, Grandma,” she cried out, a little breathless. “What big teeth you have.”

  In response, he opened wider, letting out just the smallest spark of flame. She jumped back again in fear, then relaxed as his giant form slowly knelt and leaned a little toward her.

  “What—you want me to get on?” Oh, he had to be joking.

  Blazing emerald eyes challenged her. He looked like a creature of myth and nightmare, but his eyes were all Eremon. “Yes,” he seemed to say. “Unless you are too afraid.”

  She eyed his back, sharp, protruding bones and scales that looked rock-hard. What would she hold on to?

  But again, his voice sounded in her mind. “Do not worry, I will protect you.”

  He lowered himself even farther, waiting. Tentatively, she reached out her hand to touch him, her fingertips tracing cool, sandpaper-like ridges lined with hot, fleshy outer skin. Irregular gashes ran across every scale, gleaming with purple iridescence. She brushed across his side, gently smoothing her whole hand against the rough hide. Shudders ran under her palms as she moved her hand back and forth.

  He is incredible—fantastic, she thought and wished she had a camera. Her geeky sci-fi fan friends would go absolutely nuts if they could see this. Heart thumping, she stood for long minutes and considered taking a ride.

  Eremon’s smoky breaths gathered in small clouds around their heads. Would he breathe fire while she was up there? She would probably fall off for sure if he tried any stunts like that.

  “No fire,” she said firmly.

  His eyes gleamed in a Draca grin. He tossed his head, showing off his great horn. Again, he swayed toward her, inviting her to climb up.

  Throwing her last bit of caution to the winds, she flung her arms up, grabbing one of the ridges that spiked the top, and pulled-pushed herself up his scaly side. Gasping, she swung one leg over and straddled him, her legs stretched as far as they would go, swinging above and just behind the great folded wings.

  His muscular, ridged back dug into the tender undersides of her thighs, which were clad only in thin jeans. Heat rose from him, working its way through her clothes to her skin, as if she were sitting in a slow-heating frying pan. She winced, adjusted her position, but couldn’t quite escape the burn. Then the building heat settled into something more erotic—and pleasurable—between her legs. Before she had time to take this all in, Eremon lifted up his massive bulk.

  Balancing her in perfect form, even as his huge body came to full extension, he made subtle adjustments, easily keeping her upright. Lydia threw her arms around the closest bony ridge, holding on with all her strength.

  Eremon’s legs bunched, crouching in readiness, and with a low rumble of air like a distant jet plane, his great wings swung out, the vibration and power of it jarring every inch of her body. He flapped once, twice, and with the third downstroke, he uttered a planet-shaking roar and soared straight up into the afternoon sky.

  Chapter Ten

  Utter shock kept her glued to the topside of her flying Draca. Hair and clothes blew madly as Eremon leveled out and started gliding, riding the winds that shuddered at their backs.

  All her senses screamed in heightened awareness—she was flying! She was really flying! Eremon soared in effortless grace through a purple-blue sky, and then through wisps of white clouds, causing dampness to plaster her clothes to her body. Lydia had no idea why she wasn’t more freaked out, but there was no denying it all felt so weirdly right. A huge, incredulous grin split her face.

  She relaxed and found herself laughing and shrieking at each dive and climb Eremon performed. Eremon, his batlike wings filling the sky in a glorious, terrifying sight, soared high across the ridges and canyons of her new world, and Lydia clung to his back like a hot little burr.

  Eremon’s flesh and scales grew even warmer. The bony ridge she clung to rose between her legs in a cannon of scaly edges, pressing against the crotch seam of her jeans and squeezing against her breasts. Mighty vibrations of rhythmic muscle strength pulsed from every inch of Eremon’s streaming body, arousing her to a sexual fever pitch.

  Riding the skies with a massive winged beast between her legs fed her newfound sexual powers, rocking her to the core. Growing erotic hunger and images of what she’d like to do with Eremon when they hit the ground tormented her as he soared.

  He started slowing down, gliding in long drafts, aiming for a nearby cliff. She saw an irregular opening far down a rugged rock face, and she had barely blinked before Eremon pulled his wings back and skimmed in perfect timing and grace through
the opening.

  They landed with a soft series of thuds, until Eremon had slowed enough to fold his legs down and lean for Lydia to slide. She stumbled as she hit a surface of sand and fell in a heap, unable to get her balance. Excitement and arousal pounded through her, vibrating as if they were still aloft. She laughed helplessly in reaction and tried to stand up.

  And how was her flying man doing? Because she was so on fire.

  Eremon’s Draca form flowed into steaming naked maleness, and Lydia’s heart stuttered. He looked as wild as she felt, something unleashed and primal in his eyes.

  In one long stride he reached her, grabbing her into an embrace with iron strength, crushing her against his sweaty, smoky chest. Their mouths collided in a heated rush, open and thrusting deep, as they fell onto the gritty cave floor. Never breaking from her mouth, he rolled her over, her ass swinging up and her breasts hitting his chest. He moaned in response.

  Finally, the plot of her Draca drama started to make sense. She and Eremon. Together. In one world or the other. This, this is what her Draca blood had brought her.

  Her gasping breaths matched his. His mouth, his lips, roamed all over her face. Eremon murmured in her ear strange words she didn’t know, his voice warm and husky, filling her with intense, screaming need. His blistering lips and tongue knew hers, knew exactly what to do, how to claim her. They rolled along the cave floor, heedless of the small stones beneath their naked bodies. Eremon’s hair covered her face and smelled like erotic fire. He was the fire and she was the light, and she burned hot, only for him.

  Any space between was too much. She welcomed the heavy weight of him, the hot slickness on the muscles of his back, bucking under her palms. Nothing existed except the desire to get every inch of his jutting arousal inside of her.

  He tore open her blouse; somehow they got her jeans off. He uttered a growl of wordless approval and slid down her body, lifted her hips, and put his mouth full on between her legs. Lydia opened, giving him complete access, as he thrust his tongue deep up the dripping middle of her.

  Eremon’s lips and tongue drank in her salty wetness, the hot, slick fluids sluicing into his mouth. He suckled and licked and had never tasted anything so good. He gripped her hips and sucked her labia and secret female places between his teeth while she thrashed above him, grinding her hot center all over his face.

  He’d been dying of thirst. Dying of thirst, and now, finally, the waters of life itself came streaming from the hot center of a true Daughter of Draca.

  Memories of the drought and the endless waiting melted in blistering sexual heat. Her sweet juices flooded his mouth, offering new redemption.

  He stayed between the soft flesh of her fragrant thighs, suckling until Lydia lay moaning, satiated, whispering happy sounds at him. Barely able to manage it, despite his pounding arousal, he pulled himself back and slid up her body.

  More than life itself, he wanted to finish this thing. Yet the message of his duty had been clear. He must, by strict order, wait. His predator keened in acute disapproval.

  Things could not go any further at this point, and he needed to remember that.

  He rolled over, pulling Lydia into his arms, and she laid her head on his chest, her legs splayed across his. Her sweet breasts pressed against his side, and the wet curls between her legs dampened his thigh. It took all his self-control not to flip her back over and push his cock in as hard as she could take. A growl escaped his predator. He had waited a hundred years already, thinking he would never have sex again. Still, they must be patient awhile longer, despite his aching testicles.

  The minute he had felt her awareness of his Draca self between her legs, he had stopped fighting the inevitable. Nareen and the council had been right all along. He had to have her; they all did. She had ridden his Draca fearlessly, delighting them both. She’d soared with him, laughing out loud. He bent for her mouth and kissed her with unfamiliar emotion.

  Lydia’s eyes, glowing from their lovemaking, looked almost shy. Her tumbled beauty stabbed his heart. He wanted nothing more than to shield her from what was coming next.

  “What about you now?” she whispered. “We’re not done yet, are we?” Lydia’s hand squeezed his cock, still rock hard.

  “No—I mean, yes. I want to finish this with you. But…there is more.”

  “Oh Eremon,” she groaned. “There is always more. Why doesn’t someone just tell me everything, just for once? I mean, look at us! If you don’t think I can handle what’s coming next, well, you just don’t know me well enough yet.” She pulled away from him, but he would have none of it.

  He coaxed her back and kissed her, marveling at her spirit. He wanted to ravish her, now and every night in the future. Unexpected emotions surprised him again, churning up places in his heart he had thought long dead. He remembered the feel of her on his back while he flew, her legs tight against his sides. So much sexual tension and excitement had poured through her, he’d had to stop the flight before he lost hold of his form hundreds of feet in the air.

  “There has never been one to fly with me such as that,” he tried to explain. “Ever in my long life. No female has laughed in such joy while riding the winds with me.”

  He turned to look deep into her eyes, searching. Did she know he’d felt her sex while she rode him? Her eyes had gone soft, all golden brown in the cave’s dimness, her hair a wild tangle, her scent a spicy mix of woman and Draca. A bond had happened, even as he had fought and resisted. She knew it. He knew it, now.

  For the first time in a hundred years, he’d dropped his shields. Just like that, lowered the gates around his heart. A great hope was building, and Lydia was the center. They needed to take the next step, the next, very important step. And after what he had just seen and felt, things might turn out better than he ever expected.

  Eremon blew his breath out, suddenly nervous. The last bits were the hardest to explain. “There are two more things…”

  Chapter Eleven

  “What more things?” she asked.

  Still naked, Eremon got up and led her toward the back of the cave. “I’ll show you.”

  He led her through a small entrance, cut roughly out of the stone wall, to a greater space beyond. He gripped her shoulder in reassurance, and she leaned against his strength, her arm around his waist. She had an uncontrollable urge to stay pressed against him, bare skin to bare skin, as if her pores were absorbing something vital from him. The hum under his skin sang against hers as they walked, their feet a matching beat.

  They entered another even-larger chamber. Thick, padded Oriental rugs covered the ground; no other furnishings could be seen. Light glowed around the edges of the carpet, as if the floor beneath were lit by some unknown source. Warmth rose as well, toasting her feet and dismissing any chill. Being naked felt utterly right, and she didn’t miss her clothes at all.

  When they reached the exact middle of the room, Eremon stopped and pulled her into a tight embrace. Lydia laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes. He murmured things in his silvery language again, kissing her cheeks, her lips, over and over. For the first time in her life, her need for words and explanations had vanished. In its place, the beat in her body circled tighter, the hum surrounding them louder and louder. Her heart pounded in anticipation.

  Eremon smoothed his hands down the line of her hips. “You are so sleek,” he said admiringly. “Sleek and long, like a…” He paused. Lydia watched him reach back through his context of understanding, trying to find the right word. The sheer alien-ness of him struck her; his fantastic, fairy-tale life was nothing like her own.

  Eremon continued, “What is the word for fast hound? Greyhound—yes, you are like a greyhound.”

  Lydia leaned back to look at him. “You’re comparing me to a dog?”

  “Yes. Ah, no,” he said when he saw her face. “Only in a favorable way. You have strength in your human form, and that is what you will need, my Draca beauty. To do what comes next.”

  Lydia g
iggled at the greyhound comparison, strangely flattered. After a few minutes, he asked softly, “Are you ready?”

  Lydia sobered. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Instinct will take over whatever I have missed or do not know to tell you. Your own Draca blood should direct you.”

  His eyes burned into her with heated conviction. “No matter what happens, this feeling I have—these feelings between us—I will not let them, or you, go. Remember that.”

  She nodded. Feelings between them. The words echoed inside her with a kind of joy. Yes, yes, she was ready.

  His human form melted, and the cave suddenly became very small as his winged Draca filled the space from side to side. As before, he lowered his massive bulk and knelt, wings drawn in.

  His gleaming scaled neck turned so he could see her, and his eyes clearly asked, “May I please?”

  Lydia nodded, her breathing uneven, and in response, he did a slow, careful roll all the way onto his back.

  He lay splayed out like a giant winged cat waiting for its tummy to be rubbed. She suppressed a semihysterical giggle, even as she stepped closer. Sultry heat radiated from Eremon, and sweat rolled in rivulets down her face, falling onto her bare breasts and sizzling across her nipples. She eyed his massive exposed belly, and wetness gushed between her legs.

  Her desert vision flooded in, the heated sand and the pulsing Draca tongue, the forbidden taboo of her arousal. Yes, there—and his massive length, the wings exactly like giant bat wings, nestled closed against his gleaming garnet black scales. Gathering her courage, she looked between his tail, near his upraised back legs. The biggest, wettest, thickest cock she had ever seen pointed straight toward the cave ceiling.

  Seeing where she looked, Eremon let out a small roar, accompanied by trails of smoke that floated across her face. The smoke danced around them and caressed her sensitized skin, the smell igniting her blood in erotic anticipation.