I Married a Dragon: Para-Mates, Book 2 Read online

  Pulling his upper body to me, I locked my fingers behind his neck. I gazed at him, compelling him to know what I was thinking, how I wanted to please him. Not only in this moment, but forever. “Kaine, I need—”

  He misinterpreted my meaning. “I need you too.”

  He nipped at my lower lip, breathing hard, and I inhaled, wanting to soak in the scent of him. And the simmer inside me, between us, started to boil.

  My core throbbed, clenching and unclenching him to drag every ounce of sweet delight. I closed my eyes, wanting to heighten the sensation of his body against mine, sliding against my skin. I held him to me, wanting him closer than was humanly possible. He raked his tongue along the bottom of my ear and the fever inside me burned.

  I cradled him between my legs and rocked, matching his moves, pushing him farther inside. Just when I thought I’d managed to keep up with him, he changed, rolling his hips in a small circle. The simple act made his shaft rub against my inner muscles in a different, excruciatingly wonderful way. I cried out, wave after wave of climax striking home.

  “Flames, Kaine. I want flames.”

  He lifted away from me to examine me, question me. “Are you sure?”

  “Haven’t we gone over this? Don’t hold back. Flame on, big guy.”

  Throwing back his head, he roared and plunged again. I gasped and looked at my arms. Tiny flames raced along my arms in both directions, to my hands and up my shoulders. Fear tightened my body for a moment and I searched his face.

  It’s all right.

  I knew his words without hearing them and I believed them. I believed in him.

  No longer did he move slowly. Now he dove into me again and again. I opened wider, needing him to spread the fire. Bright red flames with an inner golden glow covered my body, striking a match to my hair.

  Holy crap. I’m on fire.

  But I wasn’t afraid. Instead, I quickened my pace to keep up with his, turning my head to watch the inferno sparking more bonfires between us.

  Red. Everything’s red.

  The entire room, the walls, the framed photos, even the desk underneath me was lit up in the fiery color, changing the logical world I’d known all my life into a fantasy land. A land of incredible creatures, amazing sights and incredible sex.

  Yet the fire outside was only a spark compared to the fire burning inside. Reeling with the ache for him, the combustion in my abdomen burst free and I screamed. Kaine pressed his mouth to my throat, murmuring reassuring words, but I didn’t have the strength to tell him they were unneeded.

  He gripped my ass tighter, and for once I was glad I had an ample-sized butt. Lifting me higher still, he slipped my burning legs over his flaming shoulders and sank down into me. His panted breaths came out in small puffs of smoke and I watched, mesmerized by the sight. “Show me.” Pointedly, I stared at his mouth.

  The corners of his lips curved upward and he transformed, the once gauzy view of his dragon body growing more solid, more real. I reached out, wanting to touch him, needing to feel the scales I saw spreading over him. He lashed out his tongue and flicked the tips of my fingers. I gasped, then laughed.

  Wow.

  The flames stroked my skin, firing more than mere heat between us. My laughter died, replaced by lust, pure and undiluted. Although I’d been gasping before now, my breaths grew shorter, faster, even more shallow. The blaze of my desire went white-hot, swirling a tornado of heat between my legs. “Kaine.” I wanted to say more, but simply couldn’t.

  Instead, I reached up to pull his face to mine. I licked and sucked at the rough flesh under his chin, noting the change in his skin and loving it. The steamroller of the forest fire raging from my clit to my head sped up and I knew I couldn’t last much longer.

  I clutched him to me, burying my face against his chest and closed my eyes. I listened, hearing his heart beat as quickly as mine, beating against his chest, against my face just as hard as he pounded below. Kaine. Kaine. I focused all my energy, all my thoughts on silently calling his name.

  My release exploded and wetness, blissfully warm on my skin, spread over my butt cheeks. My body shuddered, roll after roll raging over me.

  Kaine roared, this time louder than I’d ever heard him. I opened my eyes, stunned and thrilled at the intensity of his cry and gasped.

  A burst of fire spewed out of him, from every inch of his body, flaming upward to lick at the ten-foot ceiling above us. For the first time, I feared we would burn the house down and us along with it. Still, I held on and trusted Kaine.

  His magnificent body hardened in the throes of painful ecstasy. Eyes closed, he jerked, his climax battering his body, shaking him. As his shout finally ebbed, he stilled, tensed, then finally released.

  I cried out, feeling his seed shoot into me. At that moment, I wanted every drop he could give me, every bit of the man—the dragon—I loved. With my sweat flowing over me, my come soaking the skin between my legs, I rubbed my hands over my breasts, my stomach and watched the flames flicker away.

  “Chrissy?” Kaine, his features restored to fully human, gazed at me.

  I tugged him down and he rolled to my side. “Yeah?”

  “Your birth control pills…” He studied me, waited for me to answer.

  “Oh, wow, that’s right. I’m on the pill. I forgot about that.” Although I’d missed the last couple of days. Had I subconsciously stopped taking them to get pregnant? Perhaps my heart had already known what my head needed to learn; that I’d do anything for Kaine, including getting pregnant. “Although I’ve kind of messed up on taking them lately.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t?” Sure, women got pregnant sometimes by missing even one pill, but usually it took a month or so after getting your body off them for a pregnancy to happen, right?

  “No form of birth control can protect against my flames.”

  “Oh. I see.” I think. “So in the tub the other night…?” Wait. That means I could already be preggers! And he’d known. I choked, then coughed, anxiety closing my throat up. He’d known the fire would cancel out the pills. I should’ve been angry, but I wasn’t. How could I be when I’d already decided to give him a baby? Still, thinking about getting pregnant was definitely different than actually already being pregnant. I couldn’t get my mind around the idea. So, true to form, I pushed the possibility away. Think about it tomorrow, Ms. Scarlett.

  “Exactly.” Kaine skimmed his fingertips along the curve of my jaw, down my throat to my breasts. Taking a breast possessively in the palm of his hand, he sighed. “Good thing I bought you the biggest desk I could find.”

  I laughed, stretching my hands above my head. “Yeah, good thing.”

  “Um, excuse me. Mr. and Mrs. Delcaluca?”

  Kaine and I gaped at each other. This is so not happening. I grimaced and made a face at him. “Is that you, Pam?” Please, oh, please, tell me that’s not who I think it is. I tried, but I couldn’t get my denial to stick. “Pam, were you turned on?” I inhaled, stunned at my own stupid words. “Uh, you know what I meant, right? Were you, the computer, up and running this whole time?”

  Kaine slid off the desk, tossed my clothes to me and retrieved his own. He grinned and I sent him a mean look.

  “Yes, Mrs. Delcaluca, I was.”

  I hurried to join my husband behind the computer monitor. “And you didn’t think to say something? You know, like before things got heated?” Heated, my ass. Hotter than hell.

  “Well, I started to, but Mini-Pam suggested we stay quiet. We didn’t want to interrupt.”

  I glanced around and saw Mini-Pam lying on the credenza behind my desk. “Great. Just great.” I checked the room, fearing the worst. “I suppose Missy is hiding under my desk?” Didn’t mice like to hide under furniture?

  “Of course not. That would be rude.”

  I snorted and fell into Kaine’s arms. What else could I do? After all, the deed—ahem!—was done and nothing I could do or say could change that fact. “Oh,
sure. That would be rude. But, Pam?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Delcaluca?”

  “Say something next time.”

  Kaine took my chin and tilted my face upward, a snarky look on his face. “Next time?”

  I woke up the next morning feeling conflicted. I was committed to Kaine and had decided to have his baby, no matter what the cost to me. But that didn’t mean the idea still didn’t scare the bejesus out of me. Plus, ending up alone in bed again didn’t help. Reaching over to run my hand over his pillow, I frowned and tried not to let his early morning departures upset me. After all, my life had changed yesterday after discovering that supernatural beings existed—and Kaine saving my life from two of his nastier dragon associates. Not to mention (seriously, not a word!) playing porn star for my computerized assistant. And I’d thought my life before Kaine had been exciting.

  I stretched and sat up, reflecting on the day ahead. Bad move on my part. Uh-oh. Now that I knew, how could I continue running DeBunkers, Inc.? Since dragons existed, why not ghosts and demons? What if I debunked a house only to leave the ghost, demon, boogie-man, you-fill-in-the-blank still around to pester the inhabitants? Suddenly my life’s work, along with my stomach, turned upside down. Slinging my legs over the bed, I reached for my robe and hurried to the writing table. I pulled open the drawer, picked up Mini-Pam, and punched her On switch with my thumb. Yeah, that’s right. My mamma didn’t raise no idiot. Once burned, twice embarrassed—not. No way would I ever leave her on and out in plain sight again. Plain sight of whatever Kaine and I might, uh, get into.

  “Yes, Mrs. Delcaluca?”

  The memory of yesterday and Mini-Pam’s voyeuristic activity swept through me, but I somehow managed not to blush. “Could you display my calendar for the day?” I half-imagined she’d bring up the schedule with an added note Do Hubby On Top of Desk added to the agenda. However, Mini-Pam was a smart little tool and my calendar—without any references to sex of any kind—popped onto her screen.

  Damn. I’d hoped that I didn’t have any DeBunkers assignments for the day. Recently I’d gotten a bit lax on setting up work. You know, what with learning my way around the mansion and finding out the paranormals of the world really do exist. Besides, I needed time off after such an exhausting honeymoon. (Not buying it? Bite me.)

  I frowned at the appointment listed an hour from now. Demon debunking. Great. Just what I needed. I was set to visit an older home in the Little Five Points area of Atlanta. The owner supposedly thought her hubby was a demon. Before the last few days, I would’ve known in my gut that the woman was either off her rocker or trying to pull a scam. Now, however, I wasn’t sure what I’d be getting myself into. Would I meet a real demon today? And if so, would I know what to do?

  This is so not good. Yet, until I figured out what I would do with my business, if anything, I had to keep my professional reputation going. Although I wished I could crawl back into bed, I knew I wouldn’t.

  Thirty-five minutes later, I stood in front of the small home of Mr. and Mrs. Andrews. Pots on the wraparound porch boasted colorful flowers and a cat stretched out across the top step. No place looked less like a demon’s home. But then again, what did I know? I certainly hadn’t known dragons hung out at local lakes and took extravagant trips to Vegas. Summoning my courage, I stepped over the cat and walked to the front door. The door swung open before I could knock.

  “Who are you?” A woman looking remarkably like Marge Simpson raked her gaze over my body before scanning the yard behind me, her eyes darting back and forth.

  So much for first impressions. “Hi, I’m Christina Taylor from DeBunkers, Inc.” I presented a card to her with my left hand and extended my right hand although I had a feeling she wouldn’t take it. I was right.

  The woman’s fearful eyes locked onto me. “No you’re not.”

  This was a first. I’d never had anyone challenge my identity before. “Yes, ma’am, I am. Are you Mrs. Brenda Andrews?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Mrs. Andrews, don’t you remember making an appointment for today? To find out if your husband is a demon?”

  Why couldn’t I have taken a job picking fleas off stray dogs? Or maybe learned to scrape bunions off old people’s feet? Right now, any profession other than my own sounded really good.

  Brenda huffed. “Of course I remember. But you’re not that Taylor woman.” A loud crash from upstairs had us both looking toward the stairs.

  The knot in my gut grew harder and bigger. I’d kept my maiden name for business purposes, but I briefly considered telling her my name was Delcaluca. Then I could whirl on my heels and run away. Too bad my parents had drilled responsibility into me. Damn them. “Um, I don’t mean to sound difficult, but I know my own name. And I am that Taylor woman.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at me, frowned, then glanced at the ceiling. A scream broke the air, making us both jump. “Okay, so if you’re Taylor with DeBunkers, Inc.—” she paused until I nodded to confirm my identity again, “—then who the hell is upstairs fighting my husband?”

  And I thought things were strange before. I studied her closely and came to a frightening conclusion. She’s not crazy. She’s a sensible woman in a bad situation with one too many Christina Taylors and a possible demon in her home. “I don’t have a clue, but I’d love to find out.”

  She moved aside and waved me in. “Be my guest. As long as that thing is out of my house, I don’t care what your name is.”

  I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but that’s a tall order when you feel anything but assured. I scooted past her and took the stairs two steps at a time to reach the landing above. Another shout and curse sent me whirling to the left, toward the door at the end of the short hallway.

  I grabbed the doorknob just as the door shuddered violently. Curses flew from a deep voice inside and I knew without a doubt I was about to face my first real honest-to-Satan demon.

  Choking back the urge to cry for my mommy, I turned the knob and stepped over the threshold into my own reality TV show called, Will the Real Chrissy Please Stand Up?

  Wanna Play?

  “Jenn?”

  I gawked and tried to make sense of the chaos around me. My friend, Jennifer Randall-Barrington, sat on the chest of a thirty-something-year-old man. But this man wasn’t any ordinary man. His eyes glowed a fiery red, and spittle shot from his distorted, fang-encrusted mouth. His face, although recognizable as human, had grotesque ruts dug into his skin, boils popping up over his cheeks and hanging flesh breaking off to float to the floor. Aside from seeing Fitz eating her gourmet mouse lunch, I’d never seen anything as horrific as this.

  Jenn, her copper-colored locks in disarray and dressed in black jeans and T-shirt, glanced up. Her usually pleasant face was set in hard determination with teeth gritted, eyes blazing. She kept one hand in a death-grip around the man’s neck and pressed a knitting needle against his throat with the other. “Hey, C.”

  I wiggled my fingers at her. “Hi there.”

  The twinkle flickered in her eye at my casual greeting, but was gone a second later. Cold resolve slammed back into place. “I’m a bit busy killing a demon right now.”

  Taking advantage of our odd reunion, the demon-man bucked upward, nearly tossing off my friend. Jenn yelped but never let go of him. With a scream of rage, he spewed out a huge wad of spit. Jenn ducked to the side, dodging the missile that landed with a splat on the overhead fan. Thankfully, the fan was turned off or we’d have gotten covered with the mustard-colored gook. I slapped a hand over my stomach and hoped I’d keep my on-the-go breakfast bagel down.

  “C.”

  Although Jenn struggled against the demon’s frantic attempts to get free, she managed to shoot me a grin. Nodding toward the side of the room, she asked, “If you’re not too busy enjoying the show, would you mind getting my knife for me? This needle just isn’t cutting it.” Her grin grew wider. “If you know what I mean.”

  Actually, I wasn’t sure what she meant or that I w
anted to find out. But when a friend calls, I answer. I hurried around the pieces of broken furniture littering the floor and searched while trying to keep one eye on Jenn and the demon.

  I briefly marveled at how easily the word demon now fit into my vocabulary. At last, I saw the knife—more of a short sword really—and bent to pick it up. “Ouch.” I studied the plain silver handle and sucked my thumb where I’d nicked it.

  “Careful, C. That blade’s very sharp.”

  No kidding. Sharp and very deadly looking. And pretty damn cool too.

  “C, would ya mind speeding it up a bit?”

  “Oh! Sure.” Carefully taking the blade by the handle with both hands, I stood and retraced my steps to Jenn.

  “Quick. Toss it to me. I need to finish this fast.”

  Didn’t anyone ever tell Jenn not to run with knives, much less throw one? Or was it scissors? I shrugged and gently tossed it across to her. Jenn dropped the needle and snatched the blade out of the air in one seamless motion.

  “I’ll get some rope—”

  “Don’t bother.” Jenn whipped her arm across her body, slinging the blade like a machete. The knife sliced neatly through the man’s neck, severing his head.

  Horrified, I froze, gaping as the head rolled to stop an inch away from my feet. “Omigod.” I have a severed head at my feet. I so didn’t know this was how my day was going to go. But my time to reflect was quickly cut short.

  A screech filled the air, pulling me out of my daze. Brenda Andrews stood in the doorway, shock evident in the whiteness of her face, stared at her husband’s detached head, then at his body. At last she glanced up at me and I saw the Vacant Sign planted in her eyes. Her eyes rolled backward in her head and I rushed, hurtling over the human hacky-sack at my feet, and caught her before she hit the floor. We crumpled together. Brenda collapsed on top of me and my butt banged against the hardwood.

  “Argh!” Jarred, I clung onto the woman sitting on my lap and waited for the pain in my ass to subside. My backside’s taking a lot of abuse lately.