Chapter 30
Zane slid his arms around Blaze, pulling her closer. Her mouth opened to him, sweet with the taste of red velvet cake. Her tongue tangled with his, and he deepened the kiss, feeling like he could drown in her.
He’s been waiting such a long time. Decades. He sat back on the couch and pulled her close, cradled across his lap. Her hands stroked his pecs, his shoulders; her fingers buried themselves in his hair.
She made a soft sound of happiness. The necklace around her neck hummed against his skin, and his dick throbbed with a desire that was almost painful.
He felt desperate with desire and longing, even more than he had when they made love in the gallery. Nothing in his dreams had prepared him for the intensity of that bond. Whether she felt it or not, in was all over for him in that moment.
The thought that she might not feel the same way was intolerable. Impossible.
She was his treasure now, and he had to cherish her and make her happy.
He kissed her neck, trying to take it slow, all the time wanting to devour her and burn up in flames. He trailed his lips across her shoulder, where the strap of her nightgown had fallen and the top folded back, exposing the top of her breast.
He wanted that, her soft creamy skin. He moved his lips downward, and reached inside the neck of her gown to cup her breast and lift it free. Her nipple was already hard, and he knew what it would feel like in his mouth, what it would taste like, exactly how she liked him to lick it, to suck gently, to graze his teeth over it ever so lightly…
Blaze groaned. Zane’s dick throbbed, pressing against the seam of his jeans. So many nights he’d woken from his dreams of her hot and desperate, and he’d wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her and wrap her around him, thrust inside her molten core until she forgot everything but the feel of him inside her.
He wanted that now.
Her hands seemed to be everywhere: touching, stroking, igniting flames wherever her fingers touched.
Mine, his dragon roared inside him. Ours, Zane said. Every piece of gold in the room hummed, happy to be part of their bond.
Part of their song.
Dimly, he heard Tyr’s mental voice. Zane?
Not now.
Tyr didn’t get the hint. Hey, bro, this is important—
He got the impression of Thorne bitching about something in the background.
Unless Vyrkos is rising RIGHT NOW, go away, Zane said.
But—
Zane slammed his mind shut, cutting off communications. He was with his mate. Tyr would just have to wait.
Blaze’s gown was down to her waist now, baring her breasts to him. He buried his face in them, licking and kissing. She moaned, her body writhing, her bottom rubbing against his swollen shaft in delicious torture.
This. He could kiss her for hours, for days, forever.
He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Nothing wrong with couch sex, but this time he wanted a soft mattress and room to worship her.
They broke their kiss briefly as he laid her down, stretching out beside her and sliding his hand up her thigh, rucking up the nightgown. He kissed her breasts, ran his tongue down her belly, stroked her between her legs on the outside of her panties, teasing her with light touches.
“Make them go away,” she murmured. “My clothes.”
He obediently vanished her nightgown, but left the panties to prolong the anticipation, sucking gently on her clit through the silky cloth. She moaned, arching her back, and he felt her clench and shudder already.
That made him even harder, the feel and scent of her desire, how quickly he could bring her to climax. He moved upward, covering her in kisses—her breasts, her neck, her shoulders, her lips.
She reached for him, cupping him on the outside of his jeans, and his dick throbbed. “I could help you with that,” he murmured. “Make the jeans go away.”
She shook her head, grinning wickedly. “Some things I like to do myself.”
She teased him as he’d teased her, biting ever so gently up his shaft, on the outside of his jeans. Zane thought he was going to come right there, and then she undid the button and slowly slid the zipper down, just an inch.
He’d pulled his jeans on commando this afternoon, and the head of his cock was exposed. Blaze brought her mouth to him, swirling her tongue, sucking and licking until he wanted to die on the spot. She inched the zipper down, tasting and touching and making sweet sounds of pleasure.
Zane groaned, clutching the sheets with both hands. When he was about to explode, she rose and straddled him, still wearing her panties, rocking her core over his shaft, her hands on his chest.
Zane couldn’t stand it anymore. He vanished the rest of their clothes, so she was naked and wet on top of him. She let out a cry of pleasure, sliding up and down his shaft, making him insane with delayed gratification.
His belly clenched, he was so tight and hard and wanting, and yet he loved the tease, the buildup, the anticipation.
He found her clit with his fingers, making slow circles, watching her face as lost herself in the sensation. He felt the tension building in her muscles, felt her reaching the edge, and increased the pressure just enough to send her over.
She cried out in ecstasy, rocking against his hand and his cock, soft and slick and abandoned. Her total surrender nearly finished him, and he flipped their positions, sheathing himself in her with one hard thrust.
Blaze cried out again, meeting his hips with hers. Her nails dug into his back, teeth sinking into his shoulder as she throbbed around his shaft.
He loved it.
“Yes,” she moaned, “Oh, God, Zane, yes!” He pulled out and thrust into her again. So soft, so wild. Mate, his dragon agreed. Ours.
He hooked his elbow underneath her knee, raising her leg so he could enter her more deeply. He wanted to touch her deepest core, brand her as his, give her everything he had. Pleasure her until she was exhausted.
They moved together now, nothing but heat and sensation and wordless cries. Zane stopped holding himself back, stopped thinking, just thrust himself into her over and over, surrendering everything to her. His hopes, his dreams, his love, his future.
There was only her.
His climax swept over him without warning, a crescendo echoed by the song of the gold. He buried himself in her, saying her name over and over, feeling her right there with him, clenching him tightly inside her with one last release.
Afterwards they lay together, spent and stunned. Zane moved so they were both on their sides, tangled deliciously together, their hands still moving, unable to stop touching each other.
He stroked the small of her back, feeling a warm circular spot just above the base of her spine.
“What’s this?” he murmured drowsily. “It’s hot.”
“It is?” she said. “I have a tattoo there. Don’t know why it would be hot, though.”
“A tattoo?” That was strange. He could swear he’d seen every inch of her in his dreams, and he didn’t remember any tattoo.
“Can I see?” He was moving to look when he heard muffled steps in the hallway, and then someone pounding on his door.
“Zane!” Tyr shouted. “It’s Thorne. He’s gone after Rebel and Tempest. We have to stop him.”
The door flew open and Tyr burst in. In seconds Zane was on his feet, his dragon roaring through his human mouth. No other dragons got to look at his mate. Flame him!
Blaze yanked at the sheet to cover herself. “What happened?”
Tyr barely looked at her. “Sorry to interrupt your… whatever. That idiot Thorne obsessed all night about Rebel and Tempest having the Seals. His dragon finally lost it, and he took off to get them. Like, now.”
“Why didn’t you go after him?”
“Because he’s gone dragon!” Tyr snapped. “He’s got treasure fever, and he’s flying into St. Johns in the middle of the fucking day. It’s going to take both of us to stop him. Wherever Tempest and her sister are, he’s going to rip the building apart and drag them out in broad daylight, and carry them off in front of everyone. He might hurt her. Them.”
“Oh, fuck.” Zane turned to Blaze. “I’m sorry. Tyr and I have to go. Even if Thorne doesn’t hurt them, he could destroy half of St. Johns and out the rest of us as dragons. You stay here and—”
“Hell, no,” Blaze said. “I’m coming. You may need me for damage control. And memory-blurring spells for the bystanders.”
Zane’s desire to keep her safe warred with the logic in her statement. “Okay,” he said. “Tyr, go on. We’ll be right behind you.”
Tyr ran to the open window. It had no screen, and he leaped onto the windowsill and flung himself out into space. Zane heard Blaze gasp.
A huge shadow crossed the window as Tyr Changed, and then he was gone. Zane went over to the bed and grabbed Blaze’s shoulders, magically dressing her in jeans, t-shirt, jacket and boots. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand.
Blaze shook her head, looking around the room. “Clothes from last night?” she demanded.
Zane pointed; they were draped over a carved chest at the foot of the bed.
Blaze grabbed up her jeans and pulled a brass pendulum out of the pocket. “Okay,” she said. “Are we flying?”
In answer, Zane swept her up into his arms and headed for the window. “Get ready,” he said.
Then he stepped up onto the windowsill, Blaze still in his arms, bunched his legs and jumped.
They dropped down, air rushing past them. He felt Blaze gasp again, and she clutched his arm, nails digging into his skin.
He probably should have given her more warning. Zane Changed to dragon and snapped his wings out to catch an updraft, then followed Tyr, holding Blaze close.
“Where are we heading?” Blaze asked.
I don’t know. I was just going to follow the mayhem.
“Well, let’s see if we can prevent it instead of following it, ‘K?”
He felt a tentacle of power snaking between his talons. She must be using her tracking spell. That’s what the pendulum was for, he realized.
I’m trying to decide if we should head for Rebel’s house, or the shop, he said.
“Spell says she’s at the house.”
Thorne might not know that.
“Yes he will. Anyway, Tyr will be at the shop.”
How do you know?
He heard her snort. “Didn’t you see Tyr’s face last night when he was talking about Tempest? He’s already in dragon-love with her. Which means he’ll go to her shop and try to protect her. It also means—if we really are the Three Mates—that Rebel is destined for Thorne. Are you telling me his dragon won’t know exactly where she is?”
Ah, hell, she was right. If Rebel was Thorne’s mate, then he would home in on her like he would on his hoard, whether he realized he was doing it or not. In dragon form, in the middle of a Portland neighborhood.
This was going to go so, so wrong.
Where’s the house?
“11435 Maple Street.” Blaze’s pendulum still contained the map from her tracking spell. She projected an image of it into the air in front of Zane, including the pin over the house.
Damn, you’re better than Google.
“Where do you think my map came from?” she said. “Better memorize it. I’m still low on energy, and it sounds like I’m going to need all the power I can muster. Holding this image will just waste it.”
Got it, he said. You can let it go now. Hold on, we’re going in.
Blaze was right. Rebel was in St. Johns, and so was Thorne. They could hear him before they got there. As they approached the Maple Street house, Zane felt Blaze cast an illusion spell. A tree service company, working at Rebel’s house—with chainsaws. Hopefully that would take care of any neighbors who heard the noise.
It worried him how exhausted she was. He was still so connected to her, he could feel the wave of dizziness that washed over her.
It made his dragon angry. She is weak. She should not be here. Zane agreed, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.
He came down onto the roof. Lucky that Blaze had done the illusion spell—Thorne was definitely not cloaked. He filled the backyard, tearing up grass and knocking limbs off trees.
And he had Rebel grasped in one huge front claw.
At first all Zane saw was blood dripping down Thorne’s claws, and thought he’d hurt Rebel. Then he realized it was the other way around—Rebel had a knife out and was stabbing Thorne’s talons with it. The blade glowed with magic, which was why it was able to pierce his hide at all.
He was roaring in anger, but he didn’t let her go.
Zane could hear the thunderous shouting in his head. THIEF! THIEF! GIVE ME THE SEAL! The fury in Thorne’s mind was overwhelming—a churning lava flow of possessiveness and rage and desire.
Even if Rebel could hear him, the way Blaze heard Zane, she probably couldn’t understand a thing he was saying.
Zane’s dragon roared, telling Thorne to stand down, but Thorne was beyond hearing him. His eyes were glowing red-gold, and his human side had been totally obliterated.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Blaze.
Treasure fever, Zane said. When part of their hoard is lost or stolen, some dragons get so obsessed with it that it completely takes them over. They go berserk and lose control until they get it back.
“But the Seals aren’t part of his hoard,” Blaze said.
Would you like to tell his dragon that? Because I’m not having much luck here.
Thorne gave another roar, this time at Blaze and Zane. MINE! LEAVE US OR DIE! He sent a gout of fire shooting towards them.
Zane whipped Blaze into his dragon arms and turned her away from it, shielding her from the flames. Then he breathed in, taking the fire inside his own body to keep it from burning her—or the house.
Furious, his dragon trumpeted a challenge. HOW DARE YOU FLAME MY MATE!
LEAVE US! Thorne shouted back, his eyes whirling with red. He shook Rebel. GIVE ME THE SEAL! MINE!
He flapped his wings, trying to carry her away. Blaze cast the same stasis spell she’d used on Jean-Claude’s balcony, trying to stop him. It didn’t freeze him the way it had then, but it did slow him down enough to keep his wings from getting him aloft. He thudded back down to the ground, bellowing in frustration.
God. It was like dealing with an addict hopped up on PCP—nothing stopped him, and there was no way to make him see sense.
Tyr arrowed in from the direction of town, and Zane Changed to make room for him on the roof. Tempest isn’t at the store, Tyr said. It’s closed. I think she’s here. If Thorne hurts her, I’ll—
At that moment there was a loud ‘crack,’ and a blue fireball about the size of a golf ball shot from the back porch, just missing Thorne. Tempest strode down the porch stairs, carrying a huge glowing revolver in both hands. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and aimed the gun at Thorne.
“Put my sister down right now, or the next one’s going straight in your heart.”
Thorne’s head snaked around, eyes whirling, and he swiped at Tempest with his razor-sharp claws.
Tempest pulled the trigger, and a second blue fireball shot out of the gun and slammed into Thorne’s chest.