“Yes, Keren, yes.” Zarek slid his middle finger over her anus and rimmed the tiny rosette. Keren stiffened but didn’t stop. “Shh, ma’ aphania, relax. It will feel good. I promise.”

  “Uhh, Zarek, baby, I don’t know….”

  Pressing his finger into her ass, Zarek felt a pop, followed closely by another. Keren went wild, her thrusts fast and furious. She drove herself down onto his finger more, taking it almost all the way.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  Her answer came in the form of her digging her nails into his upper arms and ripping at his skin. Her aggression only served to drive him onward, making the desire to slide his dick into her ass come to the forefront. Somehow, he managed to hold it off, knowing he would claim that hole as well before he was done with her.

  Will I ever be done with her?

  The smell of blood once again filled the air, making him wonder why this fantasy in particular was so different, so vivid.

  “I’m coming, Zarek.”

  Keren’s cunt tightened around his shaft and he lost his control. Thrusting his hips upward, Zarek pumped into her, tossed his head back, and came with a start. His seed filled her hot cunt and he held her hips to him as his cock pulsated deep within her. Her cunt seemed to soak his semen up as quickly as it released. Her body was as starved for his as he was hers. It made sense. It was his dream and he wanted Keren to accept his seed fully.

  She collapsed on him, her lush breasts crushed to his chest. Zarek did something he wasn’t known to do after sex—he wrapped his arms around the woman on him and hugged her, mentally praying to all the gods he could think of to grant him this one wish—make Keren his mate in real life as well.

  Her long hair acted like a veil, shrouding her face from his view, but Zarek could sense Keren’s emotions as if they were his own.

  They are your own, fool. You dreamed her up.

  She traced tiny circle over his arm. “Zarek, I’m sorry. I scratched you. I didn’t mean—”

  “Shh, I will heal,” he said, unsure why he wanted to ease her mind when the scratches weren’t really there anyway. It was but a dream. Nothing was real.

  “What’s happening to me? I don’t really know you, but I….”

  Caressing Keren’s back, Zarek sighed. “The Fates paired us long ago. They separated a soul. Sent one portion with me and the other was reserved for my mate—the one, for you, Keren.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?” she asked, her voice small, almost scared.

  “What troubles you? Is it the fact that I am the one they chose for you?”

  “No,” she said, kissing her fingertips and touching the scratches on his arms. “I’m not worried about that so much as I am about how I feel for you. It’s not natural to feel this much for someone this fast, this soon.”

  He spoke softly to her in his native tongue, holding his imagined version of her snuggly. His eyes grew heavy and Zarek knew that whatever his body had been fighting off—whatever had made him ill—had taken its toll on him and he needed rest.

  “Does it help to know that I share your feelings, ma’ aphania?”

  Keren drew in a sharp breath, making him try to fight to stay with her even more but failing. “Ella mazi mou.” His pleas for her to come with him faded out as he closed his eyes.

  An overwhelming peace came over Zarek and he gave in to it. Never before had he felt so at ease, so secure in his life, his future. This fantasy was the best yet. Nothing would ever top dreaming of the fiery woman who made his loins burn as his mate or the feeling of serenity that followed. Giving in to the need to rest his worn system, Zarek allowed the darkness of sleep to come over him.

  “Listen, I can’t come in tomorrow, Gennie. I’m sorry. I’ll need to take another sick day,” Keren said, putting her forehead against the cool refrigerator, doing her best to make sense of all that had transpired.

  “Keren, you’re out of sick days and I can’t cover for you much longer.”

  She sighed, already knowing that to be the case. Nodding as if Gennie could actually see her, Keren tapped her finger against the cool steel. Why couldn’t she have a normal, safe life? Why did it have to be full of demons, monsters, dragons, and other creatures she could not tell anyone else about? It was on the tip of her tongue to let the truth spill forth. To let Gennie know exactly why she’d been missing from work for almost a week and had exhausted her sick days.

  Honor the code.

  Her grandfather’s words played in her head as Keren thumped her forehead lightly against the refrigerator. It was much easier said than done. The constant lying, living life not knowing when the next demon would surface, where she’d be needed most—the whole time having to keep up the façade of being a normal human with an average, routine life.

  Holding down a steady job was next to impossible for Keren. Nursing someone back to health was not normal, but taking a beating fighting evil was, and the need to spend time recuperating, even if only to give her bruises a chance to heal, factored in on her performance reviews. And it wasn’t as though evil had a set schedule.

  Not all demons kept their activities confined to the after hours. Some stalked mankind just as easy by light as by night. It was just a matter of time before she’d have to move again. Start over somewhere else.

  “Keren, do you need me to come over? Are you sure you’re all right?” Gennie asked, drawing Keren out of her self-induced pity party and back into reality.

  “I’m fine, Gennie, really. Thanks. I’ll call you later.” She hung up the phone and ran her hand over her thighs, double-checking that she had her handguns strapped to her. After being caught unarmed in an alley by a spenous demon, Keren had spent a couple of hours each night searching for a den or nest. It was all the time she’d been willing to spend away from Zarek.

  I had sex with him and loved every second of it. Keren sighed. Well, right up until he murmured something I couldn’t understand and passed out cold again. Though, I now can brag that I screwed a guy until he was unconscious.

  Pulling her mind off Zarek and onto spenous demons, Keren recounted what she’d learned about them. The species was prone to communal nesting. It was almost a shame the demon had been killed. It could have led her straight to the rest of them because she was sure there were more. All of the research she’d done shared one thing in common—none thought the species traveled alone. They also noted their urge and willingness to eat human victims. While humans were not required for survival, they did tend to crop up on the menu, as they so often did in the case of supernaturals.

  One smarmy lounge lizard down, countless more to go. She headed out the door and into the night. Here goes nothing.

  Zarek looked around the bedroom once more, doing his best to figure out where he was. It certainly was not his bedroom, which was done in dark shades of navy and gray. No, this was a far cry from that. A shade just to the whiter side of pink covered the walls. The ceiling was of average height, making him feel a bit claustrophobic. He much preferred vaulted or at the very least twelve-foot ones. It wasn’t often he shifted indoors, but he liked knowing he could with ease.

  A white eyelet comforter bedspread covered him. It had the tiniest of pale pink roses embroidered on it. Roses made him instantly think of Keren. Never before had a woman driven him so mad with lust that he’d dreamt about mating to her. She’d done that and so much more. Zarek had awoken with a notion that he truly was mated to her, that she was now his wife. It had taken him a moment to discern it was just a dream.

  As he glanced around the bedroom and took a deep breath in, he froze. Honeysuckle and roses. Keren’s scent. It was all around him. Lifting a pillow, he pressed it to his face and inhaled again, confirming his suspicions.

  It smells of her. Zarek looked himself over. I smell of her.

  Visions of seeing her head move up and down as her full lips encased his cock rushed to him. The tightness in his chest and internal tugging sensation returned and it was then Zarek knew the truth of the matter.

  “She is the one, and now she is my wife.”

  The knowledge spurred him on, energized him fully. Rolling out of the bed, he came to his feet with ease and tried to lock on to Keren’s scent to track her. It was not as easy as it should have been because her scent surrounded him. Giving up on that method for the time being, Zarek spotted his pants neatly folded on a distressed wooden chair near the door. Keren must have retrieved them from the alley. The thought warmed him.

  He rushed toward them only to come to a grinding halt when he spotted a picture on the wall. There, a painting of Augustus Brandt, a dragon slayer who had single-handily wiped out an entire species of dragons, was mounted. Augustus had done his fair share of damage to the Dracodomus line as well.

  Why does Keren have him hanging on her wall?

  Zarek grabbed his pants, slid them on, and headed out of the room. He made it only a few steps down the narrow hallway before he found himself staring at the walls that were lined with photos. It was a virtual who’s who in dragon slayer history. One thing was clear—the majority of them were of the Brandts. The age progression in the photos was slow going. That made sense. The Brandts weren’t fully human nor were they fully supernatural. A mix of both worlds, they had longer lives than the average human and were stronger, faster, deadlier, but they could die. It would take more to kill them than it would a human, but it could be done. Mating to a supernatural would be the only way to assure immortality.

  As if any supernatural would be foolish enough to tie himself to a Brandt.

  His gaze flickered to the right and he reached out to touch a picture there. It was of Keren standing in the middle of a group of slayers. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders and looked slightly sun-kissed, as did her skin. Her green eyes were straight ahead and the look upon her face was so oddly neutral that it was hard to gauge her mood. The need to see her smile almost consumed him and he leaned in closer to the image. It was then Zarek noticed that she wore a silver medallion with the Brandts’ crest on it. Zarek drew in a sharp breath and shook his head.

  “No! My wife is not a dragon slayer. No. She is my true mate—the one. She can’t be a slayer.”

  He focused on why he was in her home and how he’d come to be there. He’d left the club and followed Keren, unable to resist her. Zarek had found her in an alley just a ways from the club.

  In an alley, at night, alone.

  Keren seemed like an intelligent woman. For her to do that meant only one thing; she was there on purpose. She’d sensed the vampire and told Zarek to come to her if he valued his head.

  She wanted to protect me.

  Reaching out, he put his hands on the wall for support as he took deep breaths. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a lie. The images were wrong. His wife couldn’t be a slayer. He could not love a slayer and there was no way a slayer could love him.

  Zarek’s gaze flickered over the other photos. Each repeated similar themes. He wanted to shout out, claw at the walls, destroy the evidence that was right before him as the reality of it sunk in.

  Keren is a slayer.

  Glancing up, he found himself staring directly into the picture of Keren surrounded by slayers. He shook his head.

  Not just any slayer—a Brandt.

  The knowledge ripped at his gut, leaving him feeling nauseous. He knew what had to be done. The Brandts had abused the power bestowed upon them and were indiscriminant killers when it came to the supernatural. They had stopped seeing the varying degrees of gray that existed and started only seeing black and white in regards to their kills. If a Brandt was alive who possessed slayer powers, they had to be destroyed. He couldn’t risk the rest of the Dracodomus line being wiped out or even that of another line. To do so would not only be selfish but detrimental to the supernatural community at large.

  Keren must die.

  There were no other dragons in the surrounding area that were up to the task of taking on a slayer from the Brandt line. Zarek’s knees weakened and he sank to the floor, not wanting to acknowledge the truth. It was too much to bear. The irony of it all came crashing down on him, making his chest feel as though it were about to burst, and his body ached. He would have to be the one to take Keren’s life. Another sickening thought occurred to him.

  She could be carrying my child.

  6

  Keren kept her back to the stone wall as she edged down. The sound of water rushing in the river just below the ledge she was walking on was loud enough to mask the sound of anyone approaching. That wasn’t a good thing. She lacked some of the extras that supernaturals had. Enhanced night vision. Supersensitive hearing. The ability to follow scents. While her senses were certainly above that of a human, they were nowhere near that of a supernatural.

  No part of her wanted to be snuck up on, so she was careful to move slow, check her surroundings, and stay vigilant. The idea of dying, alone, in the middle of the wilderness at the hands of a spenous demon did not appeal to her.

  I need to get home to Zarek. I need to check on him.

  Concern for him had consumed her since she met him. It didn’t make any sense and the bit he’d told her of how their souls had been separated long ago only served to confuse her more. All she was sure of was that the idea of him not being there or something happening to him terrified her.

  Do not fall for him, Keren.

  Even as the thought ran through her mind, she knew it was too late. She had more than fallen for him. The very idea of love at first sight had been foreign to her prior to meeting Zarek. Hell, love period was a concept she couldn’t wrap her mind around. The only satisfaction she had was that she hadn’t bent to his whim instantly. No, she’d punched him several times first.

  Taking another step forward, Keren sensed something moving toward her. She couldn’t see it but knew it was there. Knew it was coming straight at her. Whatever it was, it was massive and traveling at a high speed.

  Running her hand down her thigh, she touched her handgun and shook her head. “Not until I know what it is.”

  The idea of killing something sight unseen sickened her. Whatever it was, it was coming up on her fast. Deciding against trying to deal with both spenous demons and the thing headed toward her at the same time, Keren dropped to the ground and immediately began sliding down the ridge. Dirt, rocks, sticks, and saplings greeted her descent.

  Thankful that she’d worn leather pants, Keren did her best to keep her upper body upright. Still, cuts and scrapes continued on the way down. It was pitch black due to the dense tree covering and she couldn’t see where she was going. She knew the river was close and that it was a favorite whitewater rafting spot. Falling into it wasn’t something she wanted to do, but if it came down to it, she would.

  Hitting a bump, Keren was flipped into the air. It was a long way down and if she was lucky, she’d hit the raging river and not the rocks flanking it. She cried out as her stomach dropped out on her. Something swooshed near her a second before strong arms wrapped around her waist. When she came into contact with smooth scales and talon claws she entertained the thought of shooting the beast, but held back.

  Instead, Keren twisted quickly, causing whatever it was to lose its grip on her. Kicking out and off it, she crashed into the cold, rushing water and it stole her breath as it swallowed her. The current took hold of her, thrashing her body around as if it were a large washing machine.

  Keren’s chest burned, starved for oxygen. Something seized hold of her and yanked her free of the water. Drawing in air, she coughed as the burning sensation in her chest passed. Before she knew it, she was laid out on the bank of the river with something large and wet pinning her to the ground.

  “Get off me!”

  “No,” a deep familiar voice said.

  Keren shook her head as she reached for the person pinning her. It couldn’t be. As she eased her hands over the contours of his upper body, her inner thighs tightened. “Zarek? How? Why?”

  “No, why are you here, Keren?”

  She ran her hands over him more and was shocked by what she found. “You’re naked.”

  “I know. I had to shift when….”

  “You saved me,” she said, in awe that he was not only conscious and well, but above her in all his naked glory. She wanted him in ways she shouldn’t. The need to have his cock buried deep in her cunt while she clung to him was overwhelming. “You’re okay.”

  Zarek tried to find the willpower to do what needed to be done—to kill her—but couldn’t. His eyesight was extraordinary and he had seen Keren going for her gun while her back was against the stone wall. He’d also seen her hesitate and opt to run, draw him away from the area rather than shoot first. That wasn’t something the Brandts he remembered would do. No. They would have shot first and asked questions later.

  It would have been so easy to let her fall to her death on the rocks below or even drown in the raging river. It would have assured the survival of his race and other harmless, yet supernatural beings that coexisted in peace with humans, but he couldn’t do it. He could not let her die. He couldn’t lose her.

  On his way to find Keren, Zarek had thought about how he’d awakened in her bed, not in a back alley or in chains in some government lab. Meaning she’d watched him shift forms and not only kept his secret from humans, but also took care of him. It had been her he had awoken to find cupping his sac and licking his cock, not a dreamed-up version of her. It was Keren who the unknown forces that selected mates deemed to be his, and it was her he intended to keep.

  She is perfect and she is mine.

  She’d had her chance to kill him when he’d been weakened by the toxins from the spenous demon and didn’t. Her compassion and concern weren’t a fluke or one-time deal and he knew that. He had seen her choose to take her chances with a violent river rather than shoot blindly into the night sky. He’d also sensed her consider shooting him when he had caught her in mid-air, but decide to merely kick him rather than kill him.

 

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