Page 14 of Dragon Heir

My dragon stirs inside me, feeding me an image. Pulling her around to my knees, hiking up her skirt, and kissing her swollen sex. Opening its tender petals and gently suckling the sweet slick from between, listening to her moan with helpless pleasure. Letting my tongue extend to its full, forked length and burying it in her sweet, forbidden flesh. Her knees on my shoulders as she writhes, riding my face until she finds the release she craves…

Paxton finally emerges from our room, his golden hair combed back with oil, a clean shirt replacing the one he wore to work out. I give my dragon a fierce scolding and focus on the fact that I look like a slob in comparison to Vynessa’s friend.

Not that it matters. It doesn’t matter what Vynessa thinks of my looks, either. I’m not here to impress her. I’m here to do a job. But damn the demons, it would help if she weren’t so entirely, irresistibly fuckable. Men are going to flock to her wherever we go, supernatural and otherwise.

We leave the house, making our way on foot. It is less than half a mile, but I have to stop my teeth from grinding as I scan every face, every shadow where someone could hide. We pass a dozen people on our way, but no one takes an unnatural interest. The streets grow more crowded when we reach the nightlife district, where several taverns and alehouses wait.

“That’s it.” Vynessa moves with confidence toward one with a rowdy crowd inside.

I shoot Paxton a look behind her back, but he seems unconcerned. Noise spills from the tavern’s open door—muffled sounds of laughter and music and glasses thumping down on tables. It’s a far cry from the genteel sounds of tinkling goblets and silverware against porcelain that I’m accustomed to.

I strain to hear more, sensing that the chaos hides an empty chamber underground, down a flight of stairs. My skin prickles as scales try to erupt. This place could be a trap. It would be more difficult to escape if belowground. We need a stone dragon for this. Going below ground always puts me ill at ease.

I must not be doing a great job of hiding it because Vynessa’s hand wraps around my forearm. “Don’t be scared, no one here is going to bite,” she says, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “The guy who told me about the place said the bar has very strict hospitality laws, and there haven’t been any violent incidences against humans as long as he’s been here. Though he did say there was a goblin brawl last month.”

“I’m not scared of goblins.” I pull my arm away, annoyed with myself that I’m acting like such a novice that she’s having to look out for me.

“Whatever you say,” she teases, before turning and marching towards the door.

At the entrance, a warty troll is sitting on a stool, looking grumpy. When we approach, he lifts his head, nostrils flaring to scent us while his eyes scan us. I glance sideways at Vynessa, since I know she’s not accustomed to interacting with supernaturals. She smiles brightly at him. “We’re here to meet the group from the DLSA,” she says.

“Go on then,” the troll rumbles, gesturing us inside. “Don’t need a life story.”

Vynessa gives him a cheerful wave like he wasn’t completely rude and leads the way. The scents inside the bar do nothing to ease my mind—the wet-dog scent of werewolves mingles with the earthy, cloyingly floral scent of fae. There are other scents as well, ones that make me want to scoop Vynessa up and flee: mead, blood, herbal concoctions. The moment Vynessa sets foot in the bar, several sets of eyes turn our way. Fifty or more people have gathered in the place, and most of the males are eyeing our charge as if sizing her up for mating.

Her power will only grow stronger as her fire builds within, and it will attract more and more attention. I curse myself for allowing her to do this asinine thing.

Reaching out, I curl a hand around Vynessa’s hip and pull her into me.

Mine.

Her eyes go wide as she looks up at me. “True?”

I fold her into my side, glaring back with open menace at every set of curious eyes aimed in our direction. Only when the students in the tavern go back to their conversations, as if shaking off an odd flicker of recognition, do I relax my stance.

Quickly, I release her, and Vynessa stumbles back a step.

Turning on her heel, her gaze narrows on me. “You just made every guy in the place think I’m taken.”

“I don’t want to have to worry about you all night,” I mutter.

Her face is growing red, and I can tell she’s getting angrier by the moment. “I didn’t ask you to play big brother. I’m an adult woman and I can make my own decisions.”

She spins around and heads to the bar, and even though I want to keep pace with her, I can keep a better watch on the other patrons from here.

“Way to go,” Paxton says, clapping me on the shoulder. “She’s never going to trust you if you keep acting like a forked demon dick.”

“Just doing my job.”

“I don’t think forked demon dick is in your job description,” Paxton says. “But suit yourself. She already trusts me, so I don’t have to worry about it.”

With that, he follows her across the floor, sliding up to the bar beside her while I seethe in silence. I prop myself against a pillar close to the exit, keeping an eye on Vynessa and Paxton as they talk in their easy, familiar way.

I catch a flash of red hair in the corner of my eye and turn towards the stairs, but it’s just a guy in a small crowd on the dance floor. When I turn back, Paxton has stepped away from the bar to talk to a table full of other women. They’re somewhat familiar, perhaps from one of my courses. What the hell is he doing?

Three women on the dancefloor try to get my attention, but I quickly dismiss them. Paxton should do the same. Vynessa is our assignment. She’s our priority.

Her slender neck arches as she ducks her head, kicking her feet and winding a strand of silken hair around her finger. She looks so damn fragile. Soon, her strength will shine through. Until then, I intend to protect her with my life.