Loyalty: A Dragon Shifter Menage Serial (Seeking Her Mates Book 4) (4 page)

“Lilliana,” he moaned as he rammed his body into hers, her arms wrapped around his neck now. “I…”

As his mind went to the place that he’d been avoiding his body took over, his cock explosive, insistent, white heat rising within Lily’s body as he came in waves of his own.

He pulled back now and took in her face, she his; sweat beading, eyes wild. Lust had, for a moment, replaced love.

Lust couldn’t kill.

Love could. At least it felt like it.

Lily laid hands on each of his cheeks and he wondered if she had read his mind; if she knew how much he’d wanted to say it.

“
You
,” she said simply.

He let her slip her legs down but stayed within her, moving in to embrace her beautiful, curvaceous white form; the belly which would one day house their young. The breasts which fed his hunger. And he knew that this, above every other place or time in the universe, was his home.

G
raeme remained
on guard in the hallway, pacing slowly up and down its length as he studied the layout of the train car: the luggage racks at either end, the connections between cars which allowed people to move freely between them, the happy absence of other passengers.

At one point as Graeme stood near the front of the car, a man in casual clothing opened the door at the far end, seeming to have every intention of wandering through to the place where he stood and beyond, no doubt on a simple exploratory mission as Graeme himself was engaged in.

The dragon shifter considered for a moment attempting to use his growing talent for telekinesis to stop him in his tracks. But the poor human would be confused and probably frightened if he were paralyzed for no apparent reason. More entertaining might be to play a little mind trick; the question was whether or not Graeme possessed the necessary skill set to accomplish it.

You want to turn back,
he said, focusing on the man’s face as his own piercing eyes studied the stranger, the words taking on a clarity in his own mind.
You don’t even know why you’re here. Something you left behind at your seat is important, and besides, this car smells like rotting eggs.

The man, dazed, scrunched his face in disgust as though he’d just walked into a garbage dump, turned around, closing the door behind him, and returned the way he’d come without further consideration.

“Well,
that’s
new,” murmured Graeme, grinning. Merriman had mentioned more than once how easily manipulated humans were. But this was the first time Graeme had managed to incorporate a new mental power, gained from Conor, and his own assertiveness. He wondered how else he could use this gift.

The door behind him slid open and a slightly-more-disheveled-than-usual Conor eased out, a contented grin on his face.

“You’re up,” he said, slapping his friend on the back. “Oh, and I’d tell you to be gentle with her, but I don’t think she’s in the mood.”

G
raeme slid
into the chamber and found Lily sitting in wait, her clothing loosely draped over her in case someone other than him should peek in.

“Hello, Firebird,” he said as he stared down at her. She had the pleasing look of a disheveled lover about her, and Graeme wondered if he was odd not to find it unpleasant that she’d just been with another man.

“Hello, my Dragon,” she replied, chin down, her eyes shyly looking up at his. So different, her two men: the one with such wild, dark hair, the other such an odd mixture of red hair, light eyes and swarthiness. How could two such opposite looks be so equally enticing?

When she was confident that the door was tightly sealed, Lily stood, allowing the clothing to slip off onto the floor before her, revealing her shapely body to him, the hint of shine between her legs from the events that had preceded Graeme’s visit, which only served to arouse him further.

She fixed her gaze on Graeme’s and took his arms, lifting them above his head. He put up little resistance, curious as to her motives.

A moment later his fingers were clasped around the cylindrical metal tubes which acted as shelves above the seats.

“Stay like that,” Lily said quietly as she eased up onto her toes and kissed him, their velvet tongues meeting hungrily.

“I’ll do whatever you would like, my
cwen,
” he moaned when she’d pulled away.

“Cwen,” she said, smiling. “I haven’t heard that word in such a long time, and never to address me.” It was the old English for queen, the title that her mother’s mates had long since bestowed upon her.

“It’s what you are,” said Graeme, a hand reaching down, its index finger eager to explore a protruding nipple.

“Uh uh,” she said, grabbing his wrist and once again pulling it upward. “Stay, I said.” Again, his hand fastened itself to the bars.

Lily’s fingers played for a moment with the front of his trousers, seeking his arousal. As they found what they sought she sighed, her eyes closing as her fingers massaged his engorged length through his jeans.

She could feel his hot breath on her skin as he held in his desire to take her in his arms, to thrust her back into her seat and ravage her, exploring her white body with his tongue, tasting her salt flesh. She wanted at him, he knew; to control him, and she was testing his dragon to see if it would allow her own such pleasures.

And so he gripped the rails, the tendons in his wrists tightly pronounced as he allowed her to take her time, two fingers sliding his fly downwards, a hand slipping into the opening and finding his bare skin, his engorged shaft twitching under her touch.

Lily knelt before him, more in command than in supplication, and pulled his trousers down to the floor as Graeme allowed himself a loud exhale.

No words were spoken as Lily’s eyes looked up to his and took in his face, its square, stubbled jaw strong and determined as always as he resisted any desire to take control himself of the naked woman within the reach of his fingertips, her sweet, firm nipples ripe as strawberries and begging for a set of lips to suck on them.

No. He would let her have her way. And he would bloody well enjoy it.

S
he knew his struggle
; she could feel it within him, and it pleased her to no end to lick his shaft, beginning at its base and allowing her tongue to run its length until it came to rest on the swollen head, which she tackled with delicacy. Its shade deepened as she caressed it with the underside of her tongue, then pursing full lips around and sucking at first so gently that she wondered if he could feel it.

She took pleasure, too, in the knowledge that he could see her full breasts and her backside below him, white, round, tantalizing. His body would be aching to penetrate her, but she wouldn’t allow it; not right now. She wanted only to taste him, to drink him in, nectar which she would earn through expert exploration of his body.

Slowly she eased his thickness into her mouth, inch by inch. She could feel him hesitate, afraid to fill her so much that she lost the ability to breathe, but somehow she managed to slide her lips to his base, her tongue working him inside her mouth, hidden from view, probing his veins, revelling under the quick pulses as more blood rushed to that place.

One hand left the railing as he put it lightly on the back of her head, tangling it in her long hair and directing her, his one attempt at control as he pulled his pelvis back, extracting himself, and then forward as he showed her what he wanted.

Her hand went to his shaft, now slick and wet, and she slid over him in long, slow strokes, her lips always working with them in synchronicity. Between her legs signals were firing off, telling her that once again she could have a beautiful thick cock inside her, but she shut them down, reminding her body that there were other pleasure centers to see to.

Graeme moved in slow, even thrusts, making love to her lips, her tongue, watching as she so beautifully tended his every need. The hand which had entwined itself in her hair remained there and she loved it; the feeling of their perfect understanding of one another.

“Lilliana,” he whispered as her lips slid down his length once more. He could feel his balls tighten as her mouth approached them, agonizing and delicious.

She replied only with a brief moan.

“I’m going to come in your mouth,” he managed, his eyes closing tightly. “Is that what you want from me?”

Again, words were unnecessary as her hand tightened slightly around him, milking him as her mouth was doing, urging the inevitable outcome.

When it happened her eyes closed too, as she felt him explode and one pulse, then another and another of hot liquid shot to the back of her throat as his entire body seemed to convulse in quiet pleasure. He dropped his second hand now, holding her head steady as he came; it felt as though it lasted for days, and he felt her swallowing him, drinking him in as though dying of thirst.

At last the pulses subsided and he released her, her tongue cleaning him, licking at his delicate slit to gather the remaining evidence of his beautiful orgasm, and he watched her in wonder.

“You are extraordinary,” he said.

“As are you,” she replied, licking her lips as she looked up at him. “And you taste so bloody good.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “You’re not so bad yourself. I’ve a good mind to flip you upside-down and eat you out right now.”

“You would, too,” she said before landing a soft kiss on the top of his left thigh.

“Yes, I would. You’ve left me satisfied yet hungry. You are the worst sort of temptress—one who renders a man perpetually filled with desire.”

“Are you complaining, Lord Graeme?” Lily said, rising at last to her feet, her knees a deep shade of pink.

He leaned down and kissed the tip of one nipple, then the other.

“How could I complain about perfection?” he asked.

Then he kissed her long and hard, his tongue receiving his the sweetness of his own flavour, which still coated her own tongue.

“Dear God,” she said a moment later. “Did I just feel your cock twitch again?” Looking down, she saw that it was doing just that: filling once again with blood, signalling that it still wanted her.

“Oh, that,” he replied. “That’s only because I want to fuck you now.”

And once again, Lily wondered how her life had come to be such utter perfection, and why it was that they were headed to Scotland, instead of to a beach in the Caribbean where they could spend days on end making blood flow to one another’s most sensitive bits.

“Save that thought for later,” she laughed, turning to her clothing. “I suppose we should spend a little bit of this ride in our clothing.”

“My Lady, I cannot agree with you. But I will do as you please, because, let’s face it: you just made me come in your mouth.”

A
fter several hours
, Edinburgh appeared on the horizon, a dark grey mirage revealed under the dense layer of the dark cloud that seemed to follow the three companions everywhere they went. They could see its ancient buildings in the distance; elegant outlines, tall, angular towers attached to fortress-like structures, hostile and welcoming at once. None of the dark façades seemed to call out in greeting but rather to offer concealment behind thick walls, impenetrable and powerful; the perfect location for a covert group of shifters to congregate.

In spite of a sort of grim darkness, the ancient buildings exuded a rare type of beauty; that which comes with age and craftsmanship.

“I expect that we’ll pull into the station in about ten minutes,” said Conor, who was facing forward, watching their approach through the window. Lily sat facing him, a contented grin on her face as she slowly recovered from the pleasures of her human flesh. She too let her eyes move to the outdoors, the outskirts of the city beginning to build up behind them under the heavy sunless sky.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied movement in the clouds above: a seagull, perhaps, though it would be rather far inland. No. This was something larger: a vulture, flying about under the low covering. She could see it now, its wingtips spread as it flew in uneven circles, inspecting the world below.

“That’s strange,” she said, slowly registering its movements. As she spoke the bird seemed to dive, a manoeuvre which was uncommon for vultures, known more for profiting off the kills of others than for attacking stray animals. Speed was not their strength, after all.

“What is it?” asked Graeme, leaning over to take a look.

“A vulture,” she said. “He must have seen something down here.” As she spoke the words, she felt her mind at work once again, recalling who and where she was. A dragon shifter, the target of many a living creature; not a simple human woman riding a train in a state of bliss. The fire-breather inside her began to pace, impatient with her failure to react rapidly, aching to make an appearance to pre-emptively take on any threat coming at them.

Of course,
Lily thought, wanting to slap herself. The creature diving at them like a fighter plane was no common bird.

“Well, this is unfortunate,” said Conor. “He’s one of them, and he knows we’re here. He’s coming for us.”

A moment later a light thud sounded on the roof of the train car, soft enough to seem to the untrained ear like luggage being tossed about according to the natural movements of the vehicle.

“He’ll get in,” said Lily. “Somehow.”

“What of it?” said Graeme. “A vulture shifter is no match for us.”

“No, but look around,” said Lily, panicking as her mind attempted to solve the dilemma that now threatened them. “We’re in a tiny compartment, not exactly ideal for three huge beasts to rear their heads in defence. Besides, he could have other abilities; it would be foolish to keep ourselves confined to this little prison.”

“Well, let’s not forget that we three have a few tricks of our own,” said Graeme, recalling his newfound gift for mind control, and his more honed skill of making objects move through the air without the use of muscle. “And
I
know where the luggage is stored. I saw a few very hard, very heavy pieces that would make excellent cannon fodder.”

“You wouldn’t,” laughed Lily, reassured by his confidence.

“Try me.”

The three grabbed their packs, which they’d kept close at hand during the trip, and slid out of the compartment stealthily, making their way towards the front of the train. As they approached the passage which connected their car to the next they heard a door slide open behind them.

“He’s here,” whispered Conor. “He’s alone, but somehow that doesn’t reassure me.”

Lily turned and looked. At the end of the narrow passageway stood a tall, thin man with greasy hair and a stooped back which made him look as though he were hunched unnaturally forward. He was making his way towards them, a shiny object in hand.

He has a gun,
she thought, and Conor nodded in acknowledgment, without turning to look.

Graeme, do you hear me?
he asked, his mind focused entirely on the red-headed man who was now assessing the ammunition on the luggage rack.

The red dragon shifter nodded slightly, acknowledging. Conor’s communications were coming more clearly now, their mutual powers strengthening.

Disarm him.

Next to them stood a series of metal shelves used for storing oversized luggage.

“Move, get behind me,” Graeme said quietly. He wondered for a moment if he could employ the mind-control trick on the vulture shifter, but now was not the time for such experiments. If it ended badly, it could mean a serious wound or death.

Lily and Conor moved by him slowly and stood by the door as Graeme’s body served as a barrier between them and the would-be assassin.

Unfortunately, the vulture took the large, vulnerable target before him as his signal to shoot, and raised the handgun to aim it directly at Graeme’s face.

There was no time to ponder further possibilities.

A small, hard suitcase went peeling down the passage, hitting the man square in the chest as he kept hold, somehow, of the gun. But then another, larger case came at him, this one blocking his sight as it aimed itself at his head.

It hit with the force of a dozen bricks flung at once, knocking him several feet backwards, the gun tumbling out of his hand without firing.

Graeme thrust his fingers out then, reaching, and in a second the silver weapon had flown at him, its butt in his own hand, the muzzle pointed back at the man who was rising slowly. A scowl was moulded into his features as he stared with hatred at the dragon shifter.

“Don’t even think about following us,” said Graeme loudly. “I’m assuming this little weapon of yours is loaded. But even if it contains no bullets, I’m very capable of making it into one. And when it comes flying at your head, you won’t find yourself getting up again.”

Behind him, Conor slid the car’s door open and the three traversed into the next, making their way with rapid steps to the front of the train.

“Do you even know how to use a gun?” asked Lily quietly as they moved forward.

“Not in the least,” said Graeme. “But I assume that the small hole is a bad thing.”

“Yes, that’s where bullets come out.”

“Well then, at least I aimed it properly.”

The train began to slow a minute later, decelerating too hesitantly for comfort as they approached the station. At this rate it would still be several minutes before they halted altogether.

“Graeme, can you manage to open the door?” asked an impatient Conor. “We need to get out of this thing.”

“With pleasure,” said Graeme, bowing elegantly towards the back of the car as the lock popped open and the door to his left slid aside, cool air coming at them now from the outdoors.

Lily’s eyes were still fixed in the direction they’d come from, where the vulture stood, a pale man, hands pressed against the glass, watching their every move with keen eyes. He wouldn’t be letting them slip away easily, she knew. His job was to keep them within his sights.

Through the open door they leapt out one by one. The train’s velocity was greater than expected, but few were more agile than shifters, and each managed to land without damage on the ground, taking off at a sprint towards civilization.

“Come,” said Conor, leading the way. “We need to lose that greasy bird.”

The vulture shifter hadn’t leapt out of the train, though his reasons were as unclear as everything else. For a moment they hoped to have lost him, focusing instead on their goal: concealment within the city’s walls.

Conor led them forward until they found themselves protected from the exposure of parallel tracks, climbing up a short stone wall. They kept running until they reached a dingy-looking area, between age-stained buildings and over wet streets littered with cigarette butts, bottles and cracks revealing that few cared much for the area’s well-being.

Conor’s eyes shot up on occasion, looking for the spread wingtip feathers of a menacing flyer overhead.

After a minute he veered to the right, down a narrow alleyway concealed a little by overhanging architectural details and fire escapes. At last he stopped, his breath heavy as he leaned against the wall.

“Welcome to Edinburgh,” he said.