Valentine’s Day is for schmucks—or at least that’s what I used to think when I was single and unfettered.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my Drakon to pieces. Silver-eyed and silver-haired, Drakon’s not just six-foot plus of muscle-y, gorgeous eye candy. He’s also the last dragon king in the shifter world. Loyal, fierce and utterly sexy, Drakon’s the entire package. My mate, the other half of my soul I can’t live without. Being tied to one person used to scare me shitless, but not anymore.
“Look at you, you handsome specimen,” I croon to my reflection in the mirror.
Hands on my hips, I survey my appearance and give myself a saucy wink. My dark lustrous curls fall until my ears, but I leave my face bare for Drakon to see. Puckering my lips, I blow myself a kiss. Touching my bottom lip tentatively, I imagine Drakon’s smoldering silver gaze drinking all of me in, the strength of his arms as he pulls me close, crushing his lips against mine. Drakon’s fucked me only this morning, but I miss him sorely, his cock especially, buried in me, reminding me who I belong to.
I keep the rest of my body in shape. Lean with muscle. Able to take whatever my love wants to give me, and I’ll only beg Drakon for more.
I’m Lorenzo Esteban, popular male underwear model at Thongs, Thongs, Thongs, the male version of Victoria’s Secret. Coincidently, also a pretty good-looking werewolf, if I can say so myself. The gods don’t make plenty of me. I’m one-of-a-kind. That’s the reason I suspect why I won the heart of the world’s last dragon king.
Hell. I know what you’re thinking. Don’t toss my story aside because I’m vain. There’s plenty of heartache, tribulations, and not to mention, some very carnal sexy times in this tale. Beauty is skin-deep, but not in my case as some would argue. I might be a werewolf, but I’m human too and all of us err.
Father, forgive me for I’ve sinned plenty—some, I’d gladly do again, but I like to think I’m a changed wolf.
I critically eye myself in the mirror. My robe barely conceals what little I’m wearing—a sexy little leather thong that doesn’t fail to hide my hard-on. I rub my hands in anticipation and head out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom Drakon and I share. Shrugging off my robe, I pounce on the bed, about to reach for my cell phone by the bedside table when someone knocks on the door, startling me. Damn it. No time to sprinkle the petals on the bed or light the candles, but I know how to improvise.
Reclining myself on the pillows, I make sure my baby has a good view, because I’m about to rock his world. Strange though, I expected Drakon to come a little later after hunting in the woods near our mountain home. Plus, my wolf doesn’t sense his presence through our mate bonds. Oh well.
More insistent knocks on the door. Hiding my annoyance, I call out in a sultry and sinfully seductive voice.
“Come in, lover. I hope you’re hungry for—” I don’t finish, because it’s not my Drakon by the door, but Rover. Rover’s the Beta for the local werewolf pack that grudgingly adopted me after Drakon mated me. He’s also mated to Muddy, Drakon’s brother, making him sort of family. Over the past few months, Rover and I have differences to settle. To my chagrin, I discover he’s not so bad. It doesn’t hurt Rover’s truly, madly and deeply in love with Muddy.
How can I turn away such a poor, gruff and unfortunate soul who loves his dragon honey pie as much as I do? Besides, underneath his growly exterior, Rover’s a softie, just like my Drakon.
Reddening, Rover turns his gaze away and clears his throat. “I left the book you wanted in the living room.”
Not bothering to hide myself—because let’s face it, there’s no reason to hide beauty, I furrow my brows. It takes me a couple of seconds to remember. The dragon brothers keep a vast grand library under their mountain home, practically a fortress, and I happened to chance upon an old spell book. What else, but for a love spell? Spells are tricky things though, as Muddy often tells me. Besides, after this night of seduction, I won’t need one.
“Thank you,” I tell Rover. “Any plans for Valentines?”
“Muddy’s waiting by the landing. We’re having dinner in town. I’d ask Drakon and you to join us, but looks like you guys have plans,” Rover says, looking sheepish. Before Muddy tamed Rover, I thought Rover was all about stiff discipline and honor for his pack. Boy was I wrong. Those two fuck like energizer bunnies. I’m secretly glad Muddy decided to move out of the mountain and back in Puppyville to stay close to his wolf.
“Have fun and don’t be too naughty,” I say with a wink.
Avoiding me, Rover’s gaze hovers on the toys I laid out neatly on the foot of the bed. Grinning, he gives me a mocking salute and heads out. Moments later, I hear a roar. Probably Muddy and Rover heading to town, and I lie back against the sheets. Plucking my phone, I check for messages, only eying one. Drakon. It took a whole lot of convincing and cajoling, but I’m happy to report the immortal dragon king is finally getting used to the conveniences of modern tech.
“Oh, I’ll learn your modern wizardry, pup. But you owe me favors in return,” Drakon had said, eyes gleaming with hunger.
I shiver in anticipation and remembrance. Drakon likes games and he has plenty of experience when it comes to blackmail. With my dragon king, I’m always two steps behind, but I don’t mind. I like the challenge. Seeing his message, I let out a sigh of relief. My baby will be home in fifteen minutes.
Surveying the room, I rise from the bed. Plucking petals from some of the red and white bouquets roses I bought this morning, I scatter them on the bed and make a path leading right out of the bedroom and to the front door. Careful not to disturb the petals, I tread back to the bedroom and light the candles. In minutes, warm flames cast long shadows across the room.
Back in bed, I put my phone aside and mentally prepare myself. Reaching for the bottle of oil by the bed, I begin rubbing some into my bronze skin until it shines. “You look so fucking good to eat, pup,” I can almost imagine my Drakon saying.
For the past few weeks, Drakon’s been busy, meeting with the last remaining dragon shifters in America. It’s not an easy job being king I understand. I also know Drakon’s taking some heat from his ancient peers because he took me, a mediocre werewolf as mate and not another dragon shifter to continue his bloodline.
Hesitantly, I brush a hand across my flat belly, feeling for a second heartbeat. Some days, I suspect I’m going insane, thinking there’s a spark of life in there. Dragon kings are special, they’re able to change the chemistry in the bodies of their mates, enabling them to give birth. I’m not sure what I think of that. Tying myself to one man is already an achievement, but bearing Drakon pups? Unthinkable.
“Don’t be paranoid,” I mutter to myself. “Focus on the task ahead. Time to make Drakon feel good and forget about his worries.”
Drakon’s mate marks on the side of my neck tingle. Warmth suffuses my body and I know he’s making a landing. I imagine Drakon in his splendid dragon form, silver scales gleaming, great membranous wings folding behind him. While it’s tempting to rush out and mount his back and tell him I want to see the stars, I stay put.
Enough ‘me’ time. It’s Valentines, and it’s my turn to show my dragon king how much I appreciate him. Hearing Drakon’s growl rumbling from outside, I pause. I’m not afraid. Most men will start running, but I know Drakon will never hurt me. Never in a million years. Love’s like that I think. It gives us an unexplainable measure of certainty. Security. Comfort.
I can hear Drakon grumbling under his breath outside. Then he grows quiet, probably seeing the petals. Grinning, I recline on the bed again, splaying my oiled body for his visual pleasure.
The door swings open and I hit Drakon with my mega-watt smile. His glorious muscular form practically takes up most of the doorway. God. My mate is perfection. Every naked inch of Drakon is chiseled muscle and covered slightly in a sheen of sweat.
My seductive smirk falters when his silver gaze takes me in on the bed. No licking of lips, salutations of adoration, or an affirmation of his love. Drakon furrows his brows, as if he’s thinking deep thoughts.
“Baby?” I ask hesitantly, and curse myself for it. Lorenzo Esteban never apologizes to anyone.
Rubbing at his temples, Drakon lets out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s been a busy day and I flew non-stop for hours. Are we celebrating something?”
Refusing to let my disappointment show, I take deep breaths and try calming myself. I silently count to ten in my head. With Rover’s help, I’m learning to work on my anger issues, but none of the methods work. How can Drakon forget what day it is today?
“You ass,” I say without thinking.
Rolling off the bed, I grab the robe from the floor. Figure blurring, Drakon is in front of me in less than a second, closing one hand over my wrist. Swallowing, I look at him. Sensing anger, I bite my tongue. Drakon’s pissed, but not at me. Even furious, Drakon’s a sinfully sexy son-of-a-bitch. One touch and my pulse leaps. My body betrays my need. It knows who it belongs to and so does my heart, beating at an unsteady rhythm.
“So hard for me so easily, little wolf?” Drakon asks. His voice is like a caress. Helpless, I look into his eyes. Bringing me close, I don’t fight him. I don’t want to. My wolf recognizes its Master and mate. Why fight when it’s easier and utterly more tempting to yield? I can smell his arousal and he can do the same. Stealing a quick look, I take in his massive cock— thick, long, and pointing towards my direction.
Miraculously, I find my voice. “I’ve been fucking hard for you all day, baby.”
A smile, cruel and familiar, finds its way on Drakon’s lips. “Were you? Good pup.”
“Will you reward me for being good then?” I ask, tone husky with need. I let out a gasp when he pulls me closer still, until our bodies touch, his naked muscled perfection rubbing against my oiled and gleaming skin. I groan, aware of the single piece of leather separating my dick from his.
“Did you prepare all this for me, pup?” Drakon whispers against my ear, nipping at my lobe, making me shudder.
“No,” I answer, remembering this inconsiderate bastard forgot what day it was.
Lifting my chin, Drakon looks into my eyes. “Strike one. Are you so undisciplined, you conveniently forget all our rules, pup?”
“Fuck your rules.”
Drakon’s smile widens to an obscene angle, and I know I’m done for. Well, let’s not pretend. I like the tension, knowing where it will lead. Punishment, but the sort I welcome. Isn’t Valentine’s Day the perfect day to be bad?
“Say that to my face again,” Drakon says in his maddeningly calm voice.
Gulping, I bite on my lower lip. He reaches out, thumbing my lips. “Sorry,” I finally say. “It’s a little frustrating.”
“What’s rule number one, little wolf?”
“Never lie to you,” I mutter.
“Will you make it up to me then?” He asks, tone light and I’m glad whatever’s preoccupying his mind is now far away. I’ll ask him all about it later.
“Gladly, my king.”