5
Discoteca Reale:
Ryker groaned at the sweet sound of his name on her lips, his shaft hard and aching, his body adjusting to her every movement, every shuddering gasp as his lips devoured hers. He wanted, needed her. Mine.
Mate. Keep. Remove chains. Now.
His dragon’s demands rang loud inside his head. Ryker breathed deep. Absorbed his mate’s scent. Memorized every detail he could, unsure if the trembling came from his struggle to contain his dragon or from his mate this time. He’d waited centuries for this moment. Given up hope. And yet here she was. Long black hair. Flawless skin. Dark, sultry eyes full of mystery. Passion. Easy, dragon. She is human. She will not understand if you grab her and fly away with her to some remote island to woo her. I met her once. I could have sworn Emily Toure was not our mate.
True mate. Show her. Remove chains. Now.
Confusion warred with the white-hot, burning need he’d fought from the instant he’d seen her. He tore his lips from hers, every instinct he had urging him to make her fully his before another could claim her. He could figure out what was going on later, when his mind wasn’t clouded with such intense emotions, for one thing was very clear—this woman was his true mate.
There were Draquonir, dragon kind, everywhere. Most came from within his domain. His clan. Ryker looked around the crowded dance floor, zeroing in on the outsiders. He had been away far too long. He, unlike some of the other kings, did not tolerate mixing of the clans. Experience had taught him how treacherous the others could be. His own uncle had mated a dragon from a distant clan, only to be betrayed. She had chosen loyalty to them over the love of her mate, slaughtering innocent dragons in the dark of night. Tonight, however, his only concern, his only thought would be for his mate.
Eyes flashing, he allowed his dragon to push dangerously close to the surface to let out a vocal warning too low for the humans in the club to hear. His message was unmistakable. Leave. The woman in his arms was his. Every male and female Draquonir had become aware their king was inside. There was no hiding who he was, the alpha. His dominance absolute and unmistakable.
Excitement buzzed in the air. The tension was palpable. They knew of his predicament. Knew of his dragon’s torment. Knew how truly dangerous he had become without his mate and, consequently, his date with the executioner.
The club began to clear, and he captured her lips a second time, teasing, tugging at her full lower lip until she was breathless with anticipation. When he would have ended the kiss, she did not allow it, instead wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing closer. Opening for him.
Ryker didn’t hesitate. He plundered the treasure that was her mouth, his appetite for her erupting into a blazing inferno in his blood. He could never get enough of her. Would never tire of her. His large hands clamped around her hips as he lifted her with ease to sit on the edge of the bar he’d maneuvered them toward.
* * *
The cold metal from the bar top seeped through Katy’s dress, drawing her attention from Ryker’s kisses to what was going on around her. Everyone was leaving.
“I-I think the club is closing,” Katy panted, regret blooming in her chest. Disappointment. “I should go.”
Ryker pulled her closer, his only response a low growl of denial.
Katy knew exactly how he felt. She didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want him to stop. For a moment her natural reserve kicked in. Lifting one hand from the bar top, she tunneled through his thick hair. Tugged. “Ryker.”
At last he drew back just enough to look into her eyes. He knew his own would be full of hunger. Need. His breath as ragged as hers, he cocked an eyebrow, his dragon too close to the surface for him to speak. His voice would be a mixture of dragon and man, and he had no idea how she would react. He was in control for now. Barely. He waited for a sign from her to continue. He’d never wanted anything as badly as he wanted her now, but the choice must be hers. Always hers.
Katy squirmed. Tugged at Ryker’s hair again. He had to listen to her. She had to make him listen. “Ryker. We have to stop. The club is closing.” She scanned the room looking for Mist, her pulse jumping in fear. “Even-even my new friend is gone.”
The full meaning of her words was slow to penetrate his lust-filled mind. Ryker froze, although every part of him wanted to continue. Make her his. Here. Now. On the bar. On the floor. The place mattered little. He was rock-hard and needed to be inside her, yet honor forbade him from continuing. With supreme effort he relaxed his hands. Put a fraction of distance between their bodies. He would have to risk speaking in order to explain. “Do not fear me. Mist trusts me, knows I would never hurt you. I care for my own. The discoteca belongs to me. We can do as we wish. If you prefer more comfort, I have a suite above here that I use when I want to stay overnight.”
Katy nearly melted into a puddle of goo at Ryker’s words. His voice, sexy as sin before, had deepened even further. Like magic, each word pulsed through her body. Her breasts became heavy, her nipples tightened painfully, while her inner core throbbed and wept with desire. Every hair on her body stood on end. Tingled with electricity.
Mist knew Ryker? Knew all along who owned the club? And he had a suite upstairs? Every naughty, bad-girl fantasy she’d ever had flashed through her mind, ramped her up even more. She caught her breath. He could take her up against the bar. The wall. The floor. The bed. He could take her. And take her. And take her. Yes. Yes. Yes. Eyes locked to his, she nodded her consent.
Ryker swept her up in his arms, a driving need to hold her close stealing over him. He had her consent. Dragons mated for life. He was no different as a man. He was primitive. Possessive. He needed her. There would be no turning back. From that moment on he would be dedicated to her happiness, his body an instrument of pleasure. Whatever she needed, he would provide. Hot and slow or hard and fast.
Ryker made a swift decision. The bed. Then the bar. He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
Ryker looked down at the woman he would cherish forever. The woman who was definitely not Emily Toure.
The twin. She had to be the twin sister he’d read about in Emily’s background report. Katy. He could throttle both of them for whatever scheme they were up to, but he was too damn grateful. Maybe a good, sound spanking on that delectable ass for this one. Later. Much, much later. If she was into that kind of thing. With a grin, he spoke the truth. “Mia Regina, you are lighter than air. I could hold you in my arms forever and never tire.”
“Oh hell,” she panted, his words a soothing balm and a girl’s dream come true all rolled into one. “You’re a smooth-talking devil on top of everything else, and I’m falling for it. Have you seen my ass?” she asked, wiggling for good measure.
Ryker laughed from deep in his chest, his heart rejoicing. His spirit lifted. His woman was a spitfire. He paused long enough to give her another drugging kiss, pleased that by the time he drew away, her eyes were once again heavy with promise. Need. Her face flushed with desire.
“Hurry,” she whispered.