Damian raced his sleek car through traffic, driving through the Briar’s gates and up into the hills beyond. There was a certain path he’d run as a man so many times he knew it like the back of his hand. Whenever he’d felt the need to prove that this body was his and not his dragon’s, it seemed the simplest way to feel that was to hurt it—running for miles on nearly desolate roads until he reached the final dead end, and even he was exhausted, covered in sweat, stopping at switchbacks and staring out at vistas few others got to see. It was in the course of those moments when he was punishing himself for existing that he often found clarity and maybe driving it now would help him find it again.
Andi hadn’t run away from him—or from anything. In fact, she’d gone and put herself into even more danger. Why? Because it was the right thing to do, yes, but wasn’t there a faint chance that she’d done it for him? To be—to stay—with him?
He’d had scads of women throw themselves at him before. He knew he was good-looking; he wasn’t an idiot. He was handsome enough to have had an easy time with them without his money. But most women were blinded by either his presence or his bank account. He’d had precious few ever try to learn more about the man inside—nor could he afford to share—given what he was, what he did.
Which was what made Andi exceptional. Without trying to, and without any ulterior motive, she’d managed to see his reality.
And she hadn’t run away.
She’d been scared—he’d read it in her eyes—but she’d stayed.
And she’d even fought to keep those memories! Which was only fair, considering the ones he now had of her. His car careened around another corner, almost feeling like he was in flight, the coin hanging under his rear-view mirror swaying as he imagined her swimming in the pool. The way her dark hair trailed out over the surface of his dragon’s bathing pond, the way the water beaded on her skin as she emerged. The way she’d clearly wanted to mount him in his bedroom. How perfect her breasts were, both in the pond and when he’d gotten to touch one underneath the fur, remembering the weight of it in his palm, the quick tautness of her nipple at his touch.
Damian wanted to touch her, and he wanted to give her so much more. His hands wrung the steering wheel as he took another turn at high speed, feeling the pressure of his inseam against his now erect cock. The last of the succubus’s poison working itself out? Doubtful. No—this was all him. Set on her. Set on being with her—being inside her. The thought made him rock-hard and stirred his sleeping dragon.
When would he see her again? She would text him. He was sure of it. Wasn’t he? He craved her—he needed her—she had to text him.
And he knew he would ache until she did. Damian growled at himself. There were times when self-control was necessary, but now wasn’t one of them. He had to take the edge off. He took another turn at breakneck speed and stepped on the gas as he reached for his belt, unlatching it quickly, before sinking his hand.
If he had followed her up the stairs to her apartment…if he’d caught her inside the door and pressed her against the wall…if he’d fit his mouth to hers and pushed his tongue in—he stroked himself rhythmically, in time to his thoughts, following the road from memory, increasing in speed. His cock in her mouth, then her hot thighs parting, him buried deep inside, thrusting, listening to her moan—he knew he was running out of road, but he felt like not coming was more likely to kill him than any accident. He needed this prelude—to exorcise his lust, to make it possible to just be himself around her the same way he wanted her to be around him.
Go take her, his dragon whispered.
Damian grit his teeth, still stroking. If his dragon had his way, they’d abandon the car now, fly back to her apartment, rip off its roof, and steal her away. The closer he got, the more willing he was to entertain doing it. He raced through another turn, his eyes half-lidded, and his jaw dropped, driving on instinct as he pumped his hand. In his mind, he was thrusting himself inside her, feeling her entire body tense…
Claim her.
Andi below him, calling his name, hips bucking…
Mate her.
In his mind, she came below him, and he reveled in the glory of it before letting it bring…him… home. He gasped—shuddering, momentarily transported—before he looked over the steering wheel and saw the road about to end. His foot slammed on the brake, and he yanked the emergency brake and the car spun in a squealing circle until it stopped, and he got out, angrily tucking his shirt back in—ignoring the warm, wet spot spreading against his stomach.
There was only a hair’s breadth of space between the far side of his car and the guardrail. It would take a twenty-point turn to get him away from it without scratching anything. He stood at the end of the road and looked over it, at how close he’d come to needing to shift to save his life.
Andi, his dragon purred—perhaps the first time his dragon had ever used another human’s name. Mine, his dragon said, and set him aflame with desire from the inside out. Damian staggered and caught himself on the car hood, cursing, trying to push his urges down. Instead of finding closure with his hand, he’d only opened Pandora’s Box—and found his own dragon waiting inside.
How could he let himself get like this—over a human?
He reached for his phone and found a text waiting from her: Ten, tonight? and a slow liquid-like sensation of satisfaction perfused his entire body.
Yes, he typed back without hesitating.