Chapter One

 

 

Luca

 

My best chance to keep my meeting with the Dragons off everyone’s radar was to have it in a place where nobody I knew would likely ever go—a gay leather bar. That was my thinking anyway. The only problem with that theory was the Dragons I was meeting here might not be too thrilled about it either.

Not because Dragons didn’t like gays—pure-blood Dragons were pan-sexual, as everybody knew. But pure-bloods were also touchy and easily offended and, too late, I realized that a pure-blood might even question my motives in inviting him to meet me in a place like this. Seeing as how pure-bloods had a firm beat-the-shit-out-of-you-first-and-ask-questions-later policy, I decided I might be in trouble. And the last thing I needed was to get pure-blood Dragons on my ass.

A heavyset, balding man sitting at the bar decked out in a harness, leather shorts and biker boots tapped a riding crop against his thigh and looked up with interest as I stepped through the door. Once I took a seat at the bar he sidled over beside me. It was pretty dim in there and he didn’t get a good look at me, I guess. But the soft growl I gave him, along with the little wisp of smoke that issued from my mouth as he brushed my arm made the guy turn around and suddenly get very interested in his drink. Not because he was afraid of me, you understand. I’m like five feet eight and weigh maybe a hundred forty pounds soaking wet. And though I am kind of proud of my abs, my muscles aren’t exactly intimidating. But I was Dragon Spawn. The patch of scales on my neck looked almost like a tattoo from a distance, but if you got up close, you could see it for what it really was.

And nobody wanted to get involved with a Spawn if they didn’t absolutely have to.

Spawn were the half-breed offspring of the pure-blooded Dragons, mixed with the human blood we got from our other parent. We looked mostly human as a rule, but it was a well-known fact that human and Dragon blood didn’t mix all that well and produced some strange looking—and highly dangerous—children. In most cases, they were all as crazy as a shithouse rat.

Most of us had our patches of scales in unexpected places. I had some on my chest, a rather large patch on one ass cheek, and this little patch of iridescent red and black at my throat. A few of us had hair that was wiry, straight as a stick and some shade that corresponded to our scale patches. Thank God, mine was just boring black, and not green or blue or stop-sign red like some I’d seen. Spawn were extra strong too, and as a rule had terrible dispositions. That little tendency we had to set things on fire with our breath when we got too angry was kind of a deal-breaker as well. Most humans avoided us like the plague.

It was too late now to change the meeting place, so I made a conscious effort to relax since I was here and took a look around. This bar hadn’t looked like much from the outside—or the inside either for that matter. It had none of the usual neon beer signs in the windows that I normally associated with drinking establishments. As a matter of fact, it didn’t have any windows facing the sidewalk at all, just a small door sign emblazoned with the name of the bar, Balls to the Wall, in kind of small letters, almost like an apology. I could understand why.

It was close to the store I worked in, so that was nice. I might even come back here sometime when I had a night off and some extra money. Which, come to think of it, would most likely be never. But if I did, it meant I could stay in my own neighborhood for a change and avoid all the hassle of taking a city bus. Most of the buses in this part of town were inhabited by people who were even poorer than I was, and with much lower standards of personal hygiene. I didn’t have the money to waste on a cab, so I mostly either walked where I wanted to go or kept my ass at home.

I ordered a Coke that was delivered in a none-too-clean glass. I may have been able to get away with ordering a beer—this place didn’t strike me as being a stickler for legal drinking age, and I was almost twenty-one. Well, in five or six months anyway. But I didn’t want them to kick me out in case I was wrong. I turned around on my bar stool to see if the pure-bloods had arrived yet for our meeting.

An extremely hairy individual swaggered in from a back room just then, leading a totally naked guy on a leash. The hairy guy spotted me and did a double take. He winked and I ignored him, but he was apparently made of sterner stuff than the first guy who’d approached me and soon sauntered over to try and enlist me in a three-way with him and the man on the leash. I showed him my teeth, turning all the way around to let him get a good look at me. He finally spotted the little patch of red and black scales on the side of my throat and remembered he had somewhere else he really needed to be.

My father was a Red Dragon, and I had no idea where the Black came into the mix, since I didn’t know shit about my mother. She’d died when I was born and my father wouldn’t talk about her. Like ever. I’d found a love letter once that she had written him just before I was born. She’d put it in one of her romance books that she liked to read, like a bookmark, and I found it. It was short and sweet, but all I really had of her so I cherished it. I knew my father would probably tear it up or throw it in the trash, so I just held onto it.

He was a Red, and the Reds were bad-tempered and violent. Most of them were also greedy and covetous and obsessed with increasing their hoards. Actually, all the various Dragon breeds were dangerous and cared only for treasure. As a rule, they were driven by it, motivated by it, spent their time guarding it and would literally kill to increase it. The ones I’d met up to this point in my life were devious liars too, completely devoid of any moral compass. They were, in a word, assholes—imperious, high-handed, arrogant creatures—but the Reds and the Blacks were the worst.

The Goldens, as the ruling Dragon family, considered themselves to be above such things as avarice, but I knew better. All Dragons were greedy bastards. I generally tried to steer clear of pure-bloods altogether, especially my dad, who was all of the above—in spades. His one deviation from other Dragons was that he didn’t see the point in hoarding his treasure. He spent everything he had on drugs and alcohol. I guess he had some things he wanted to forget.

I glanced down at my watch. The two Dragons I was here to meet, both Goldens, had introduced themselves to me earlier today as Dmitri and Sebastien Solokov. Even without the same last name, I would have known they were related, both being tall and muscular with lean, though powerful bodies. They both were extremely good-looking, too, as most pure-bloods were, with blond hair and green eyes, a killer combination when paired with those high cheekbones and full lips. They looked like I would imagine Vikings used to look when they pillaged and raided their way up and down the coasts of Britain in the Middle Ages. With Goldens, you got a sense of barely controlled violence just under the surface.

They had strongly implied that they were some kind of government agents, investigating Artie Samboa’s Spawn gang, though they had flashed their badges at me so fast I barely got a look at them. There had been talk for years by human officials of getting the pure-bloods to put a stop to some of the worst of the Spawn gang activity. The thinking was that these pure-bloods would be able to intimidate the Dragon Spawn and keep them in line, because they were so much stronger and smarter. It simply proved that humans didn’t know shit about Dragons. Or Spawn either, for that matter.

The good-looking agents, if that’s what they really were, were already ten minutes late. I’d texted them the name and address of the bar and told them I’d meet them there at eight o’clock. As far as I knew we were still on track for that meeting. I hadn’t heard anything different anyway.

Despite the fact I was going to require some bleach for my eyeballs later, and—if I kept sipping from this glass in front of me, I’d need to make sure my typhoid shots were up to date—the longer I sat in the little bar, the more I kind of liked the place. There was a free-spirit, anything-fucking-goes vibe. A fact that was obvious from the number of patrons wearing assless chaps. At any other time, I might have enjoyed the show, because some of the guys weren’t bad looking at all, but tonight my head wasn’t really in the game.

I sighed impatiently. The agents were late. I’d give them a few more minutes, and then I was out of there. When they had come by the store earlier that day, I didn’t have time to talk to them much. They’d wanted to question me about Artie Samboa, and I couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like I was in his gang, or even that I knew him all that well.

And one thing was for sure. Artie Samboa and his friends wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this. Being a thieving, lowlife, murdering thug was apparently fine with Artie and his boys, but not being mistaken for a gay man. I’d heard some things about his activities, but that didn’t mean that I was going to tell those agents any of it. I was no fucking snitch. Besides, if Artie thought I had given out any information on him, he’d try to start some shit with me, and I didn’t need any more trouble in my life.

Mr. Alvarez, my boss, had come to the back of the store to find me when the agents first showed up, and I had gone out front to talk to them.

“Mr. Wessex.” It was the one named Dmitri who greeted me. I’d paid close attention when he flashed me his badge, because I’d never seen anyone so good-looking before. “What can you tell us about Artie Samboa?” His grass-green eyes looked me up and down with an intense gaze.

I glanced between the agents. “Not a damn thing.” I tried an ingratiating smile that was met with stony glares. “What’s this about anyway?”

“It’s about Artie Samboa, and your relationship with him. We’d like to talk to you about him—have you answer a few questions, if you can?”

I shook my head. “I don’t have a relationship with Artie. I don’t even know him all that well. You should find somebody else to talk to about him, okay? I really couldn’t tell you much of anything.”

“That’s not the information we have, Mr. Wessex. From what we understand, you and Mr. Samboa have a close, personal relationship.”

I could feel my eyebrows shoot up. Me and Artie Samboa? No fucking way.

“Well, that’s just not true,” I said. “I barely know the guy.”

The two agents shared a long look. Then Dmitri, who was the prettier of the two, smiled at me, glancing over at Mr. Alvarez, who hovered nearby. “We’d still like to speak to you about Samboa, Mr. Wessex, if you have a moment.”

“I don’t. I’m at work, as you oughta be able to see.”

A look of outrage flashed in Agent Dmitri’s eyes and I got a little uneasy. I should have known better than to smart off like that to a pure-blood. Immediately I tried to look apologetic.

“I’m sorry. What I meant to say was that I really don’t have time right now. If that’s okay? Sir?”

Dmitri gave me a slightly mollified look that made me feel like he might decide not to eat me right away. The jury was still out. I smiled again, trying to look ingratiating, and not like a bad-tempered punk with something to hide. Well, that part was true enough, but I didn’t want this guy to know it.

“Is there some other time you could speak with us then, Mr. Wessex? This is actually quite important. You could be a big help to us in our investigation. I’m sure you’d like our report to reflect that you were cooperative, wouldn’t you?”

I couldn’t stop a slight eye roll, but some sense of self-preservation kicked in and at the last minute, and I put my hand up and rubbed my eyes. “Like I told you before, sir, I don’t know anything about the guy,” I said, my voice hopefully not registering my impatience. No way in hell was I about to say anything, but I wasn’t stupid enough to antagonize two Goldens.

Goldens were able to trace their lineage back over a thousand years, but they were still rare in North America. In fact, these two were the first ones I’d seen in a long while. Goldens had a real attitude that distinguished them from other Dragons. Along with being really good-looking, they all had a menacing, don’t-fuck-with-me demeanor that I, personally, was glad to honor.

Goldens were content to stay in their own territories as a rule. They were the most prosperous Dragons too and jealously guarded their treasures. Also, Goldens were still very much in charge in the Dragon hierarchy as the ruling family. They didn’t make things easy for the other breeds. Never had—so more of these other breeds had migrated to the more populated places in the world, the places where the humans lived.

In stark contrast to the Goldens and at the very bottom of Dragon hierarchy were the Spawn, like me and Artie. It was gangs like Artie’s that had grown increasingly violent over the last few years and were responsible for the majority of crime in the city. Everybody knew that, and it wasn’t like I had any special information. But maybe it was me who didn’t know shit, because here were two Goldens in front of me, asking questions and implying they were some kind of government agents. Maybe officials had finally lured them into helping out. If so, things were about to get interesting.

Most Spawn were big and strong, but certainly no match for any pure-blood. However, Spawn were stupid enough and mean enough to fight them anyway. Not only that, but Spawn had to outnumber the pure-bloods by like ten to one. So, if and when the Spawn resisted any kind of major crackdown, there would be a bloodbath, and not just for Dragons and Spawn. The humans would be collateral damage, but it could be a devastating war for everyone involved. Eventually, the pure-bloods would probably win, but there were just so many Spawn and their numbers were increasing all the time.

“I promise you we won’t take up too much of your time.” Dmitri gave me a smile that he’d no doubt used before to his advantage. It actually made my knees a little weak.

“Okay, okay,” I said with a growl that just slipped out. Part of it was anger, but most of it was because I wanted to throw him down in the floor and have my way with him. Like that was even possible. I glanced up to see if they noticed but they were just staring down at me with no expression. “I’ll…uh...meet with you some place, but not here. Please? Can I text you a place and time later today?”

“That would be helpful, Mr. Wessex,” the beautiful agent said, ignoring the little breach of etiquette I’d made with the growl. I knew better than to growl at a pure-blood, especially a Golden, but I was feeling backed into a corner and a little desperate. I didn’t want to meet them and risk getting Artie on my case, but I didn’t want to antagonize them either. Rock, meet hard place.

“Here’s my card.” He pulled an expensive looking, cream-colored card from the breast pocket of his suit. “My numbers are on there, and I’ll be waiting for your text. Don’t make me come back here after you.” He handed me the card, brushing my fingertips with his, and they’d left. I’d felt jumpy for the rest of the day. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the idea of Artie Samboa possibly finding out I was meeting with pure-bloods about him or that last parting shot by Dmitri. Don’t make me come back here after you. Shit.

I tapped my fingers on the bar, glancing occasionally in the mirror over it to spot the agents when they walked in. I expected to see them dressed in three-piece suits and ties, all buttoned down and perfect like they had been earlier that day in the store. That’s why I almost didn’t recognize the vision of hotness that walked through the door of the club.

It was Dmitri, alone and dressed in black leather trousers, obviously well-worn and so tight across his ass, I could have bounced a quarter off it. A black T-shirt, equally tight, and a long leather coat completed his outfit and showed off every one of the lean muscles on his torso. Which is to say, a lot of them. His hair, which was a gorgeous shade of dark blond, had been tied back when I’d seen him earlier, but now it was loose and the silky strands of it caressed his shoulders. He was even wearing biker boots, and the sight of that set up a slow throbbing in my groin. The Golden swaggered in like he not only belonged in a leather bar, but like he owned the place. He spotted me in my corner and came over to me.

“Hello, Luca,” he said, his voice dark and seductive. “This bar is an interesting choice. Are you a part of this scene?”

“Me?” I looked around and gave him a lazy smile. “No…why? Are you disappointed?” Where the hell did that come from? I could feel a flush swarming up my neck and settling on my cheeks, and I dropped my head in confusion. He might decide to eat me at any second and not in a good way.

Dmitri looked me up and down speculatively and leaned over between the stools to rest his elbow on the bar. He was close, his tall, lean body hemming me in. He smelled good too, like soap and expensive cologne. Though he didn’t have a lot of bulky muscles like some kind of gym bunny, he had an awesome body. He was maybe six-two or so. I wondered how he looked in his shifted form and decided he must be impressive. I had never actually seen a Golden up close and personal before, but I’d seen pictures. I’d always believed that those pictures must have been enhanced, but now, I thought that it might be possible that they hadn’t done the Goldens justice if this guy was anything to go by. He was fucking gorgeous.

“I have to say I was surprised when I got your text,” he said, staring into my eyes. “Do you come to this place often?”

“No. Like I said. I’m not into all this.” I looked him up and down, stopping when my gaze reached the bulge in his groin. “But I could be persuaded if you’re asking.”

God, what’s wrong with me and where is this shit coming from? It had to be nerves. I gave a nervous little laugh to show I was joking, but I could feel my face flaming.

Dmitri smiled and lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow, so slow and sexy that I lost my breath for a moment. “Oh?” Just that one syllable and my heart began a slow thud inside my chest. I got lost for a few seconds in his eyes as he leaned in closer. A little voice inside my head was reminding me this was a Golden and to be careful.

“Sure,” I said, my voice an octave higher than normal. “I’ll try anything once or twice,” I said. “But if it’s a problem for you, I’d completely understand.” I licked my lips nervously and I saw him watching me like I was prey.

“Now why would it be a problem for me?”

I just shrugged, way out of my depth, and he smiled at me. A little like I imagined a shark might smile at his next victim. “What you would or wouldn’t do doesn’t factor into this in any way, but it’s nice of you to share the information. Tell me, Luca. Is Artie Samboa your Dom?” He glared at me, seeming almost angry as he asked the question.

“What?” That surprised a laugh out of me. Just the thought made me queasy.

Artie Samboa wasn’t bad looking. He was, however, vicious and stupid, always a dangerous combination. And the injection of inferior human DNA when Artie’s dad mated with his meth-addicted human mom hadn’t helped his disposition one damn bit.

Even though I had known him most of my life and even gone to school with him for a while, we were never friends. Even as a little kid, Artie had always been in trouble, but I felt a little sorry for him back then, because he used to come to school with bruises on his face and once even a broken arm. Everyone, including the teachers, knew his dad beat him regularly. But his dad was a Black Dragon, and they were too scared of him to say anything. Blacks were abusive, quick to anger, and just plain evil. Their hearts were as black as their slimy scales. Like I said, I felt sorry for Artie, but at that time, I had too many of my own problems in that same area to worry about anybody else’s.

As he grew older, the beatings just seemed to make him meaner. Artie began to get a vicious look in his eyes that could literally make you shiver on the hottest day if you looked directly at him. In the last few years that look had turned predatory. It was a little like the Artie I had gone to kindergarten with had permanently checked out and something brutal had moved in and set up shop.

So I steered clear of Artie as much as I could. I hadn’t really seen him in a couple of years, so I was surprised when he had suddenly started coming around to see me in the last couple of weeks. He had actually tried to get me to hang out with him and his “friends” and insisted on coming by the store when he knew I was going on break. I had no idea why—like I said, we’d never been friends, and there was no way in hell Artie Samboa was attracted to me sexually. Hell, even if he had been, he couldn’t have ever admitted it. Artie was a huge homophobe and had no qualms about letting it be known.

Secretly, I’d always thought Artie was so far in the closet he couldn’t see daylight. I even wondered when he asked me to go out drinking with him one night after work if he had finally got up the nerve to stick a toe in and test the waters. I was kind of curious by this time to see what he might be up to so I agreed to meet him at a local bar. I ordered a beer, while Artie drank alarming amounts of tequila. He’d tried to get me to join him, but I just laughed, feeling a little nervous about pissing him off, and told him that tequila made my clothes fall off. The slightly disgusted look Artie had given me then let me know Artie was as much in denial about his sexuality as ever.

“I don’t know why you want to speak to me anyway,” I said, focusing back in on the agent. “As I keep telling you, I hardly know Artie.”

“I’m only here to ask you a few questions. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m comfortable. As much as I can be sitting next to a Golden.”

He looked a little surprised. “You don’t like Goldens?”

I grinned at him. “My dad’s a Red. What do you think?”

Reds and Goldens had always had bad blood between them. They were the two strongest breeds and therefore claimed the majority of the world’s treasure. They also shared the same territory—very uneasily and with a long tradition of stealing each other’s gold. In reality I don’t think there really was a nickel’s worth of difference between the Goldens and the Reds. Both cared more for their treasures than anything else, and as the old saying goes, treasure was only good for three things—hoarding, spending or trading for something that meant even more to you.

Dmitri’s eyes traveled over me again. “But you’re only half Red—for the sake of clarity. That makes you Spawn.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You already know the answer to that, don’t you?”

I stiffened, not liking what he said, and he smiled. “Luckily, you’re good-looking enough that it doesn’t matter so much.”

Of course I knew how I looked. I owned a mirror. But I wasn’t conceited about it, like I was willing to bet he was. Looks were just a result of DNA. It wasn’t like it was an accomplishment or I’d done anything to earn them. I was cute and had curly hair that guys seemed to like, and I happened to have really long eyelashes. Not freakish or anything, but they were usually one of the first things people noticed about me. That and my blue eyes. It was no big deal to me, but some people thought it was a striking combination. I saw the Golden staring at me and he smiled.

“What’s the matter, Dragon-Spawn? Are you upset about something?”

I frowned even more fiercely. “Well, for one thing, I don’t like being called that name.”

“What? Spawn? But that’s what you are, right? Spawn is any mixture of human and Dragon.” He leaned in closer and sniffed me. “Mmm. You definitely have some human blood.”

I pulled away, uncomfortable with his closeness because of what it was doing to my dick. “I still don’t like that name.”

“Sorry. What should I call you then?”

“Something else.”

He fingered my hair. “Curly?”

“You’re kind of an asshole, aren’t you?”

“I don’t mean to be.”

“No? You coulda fooled me.”

“But what did I say?”

I gave him a good glare. “I don’t like silly nicknames. Or to be called Spawn. I’m a person, you know.”

He grinned. “Not exactly.”

I started to get up then but he caught my arm. “What does Artie Samboa call you? Does he feel misunderstood by pure-bloods, too? Mistreated by them?”

“Look. I already told you, I barely know him.”

“But you are in his gang?”

“What gang? All I do is work at the store. It’s all I have time for.”

Artie had tried to get me in his gang. He told me that if I’d join up with him and his friends, he’d make sure I made plenty of money, much more than I currently made working at my “pissy little job.” But I knew what Artie did to make money, and I wanted no part of any of it.

Besides, “pissy” or not, I had waited a long time to get my job at the store. I knew it wasn’t a great job, but I was pretty much limited on what kind of work I could get, so I was grateful to Mr. Alvarez for hiring me.

Ever since I was a kid—well, after the last beating I got from my dad when he’d hit me in the head with a kitchen chair anyway—I got terrible spells where I was dizzy and had headaches. Like so bad that when I had one of them I expected to see dead relatives standing at the foot of my bed telling me to come to the light. That bad. It didn’t happen all the time, of course. I couldn’t have stood that. But the beatings were regular, and when the headache came, my dad would dose me with painkillers until it stopped. I don’t know where he got the drugs from—I never went to any doctors. But they were strong and knocked me on my ass for days at a time.

The severity of the pain and the drugs I had to take to help it limited my options as far as jobs went. Add to that the fact that employers kind of expected you to show up for work every day, and jobs were hard to find. After a particularly bad spell at school once, the teachers had called an ambulance. Before my old man could jerk me out of the ER, the doctors asked me if I’d ever had an injury of any kind. I’d laughed and asked how many he wanted to know about, because, when he was drunk, which was most of the time, my old man liked to knock me around for sport. Anyway, the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with me. They wanted to do tests, but my dad said no. So the headaches, coupled with the fact I was Spawn, and nobody was exactly lining up to hire me.

I realized the Golden was staring at me, and I cleared my throat nervously. “I’m sorry. This whole thing is a waste of your time. I really hardly know the guy.”

“Now that’s not true, is it, Luca? Artie Samboa was seen talking to you in the alley by the store where you work three nights ago. And then night before last, he took you to a bar. What did you two talk about?”

My face got hot and I started to stammer. How the hell did he know this stuff? “I-I don’t remember. Nothing important.”

“You don’t remember.” Dmitri said. It wasn’t a question, but more like sarcasm. His tone made it plain he didn’t believe me.

“No. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. People don’t mess with Artie and live to tell about it.”

He leaned in closer and brought his lips to my ear. An electric charge jolted through my body at his closeness, and my breath left my mouth with a little puff of smoke. Dmitri whispered softly to me.

“I intend to ‘mess’ with him. You can give him that message for me next time you see him.”

“Give it to him yourself,” I said, surprised at my own boldness and fully expecting to be incinerated at any moment as he glared down at me. When it didn’t happen, I slid off the stool and headed for the door. He followed me, grabbing my arm.

“Why are you getting so excited? Has Samboa threatened you in some way? Are you frightened of him?” He looked around the bar and his eye fell on the bald guy with the boy on the leash, who was still watching us with an avid gaze. Dmitri’s eyes flashed. “You never answered my question. Is Samboa your Dom?” he asked in a tight, angry voice. Tiny flames danced in his nostrils.

“This was a mistake. Please—I have to go,” I said, jerking my arm out of his grip. My head was beginning to ache, and I felt like I just needed to get back to my room.

“Why don’t I take you over to one of those tables and we can finish talking? No one will bother us there.”

“No!” Realizing I’d shouted and attracted undue attention, I clamped my lips together and took a deep breath to calm myself. “Please…I’ve told you all I can. Please let me go.”

He smiled that charming smile and moved his hand, holding it up as if to show me that no harm had been done.

“Of course. Don’t get so stressed. Let me walk with you.”

I shook my head. “It’s absolutely not necessary.”

“I insist.”

“Really, I live literally two blocks away.”

“Then we don’t have far to go, do we?”

He really was the most infuriating man I’d ever met. I risked giving him a dirty look, and he smiled at me again, putting his hand on my elbow as if to guide me to the door.

I shoved him.

I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking—obviously I’d lost my damn mind, putting my hands on a pure-blood. A Golden. Shoving him, for God’s sake! I held my breath, wondering if I could make it to the door before he blasted me. I closed my eyes and waited for it, but when nothing happened, I finally opened one eye and looked up at him.

He was staring back at me, clearly shocked at what I’d done. I knew how he felt. All I could blame it on was one of my headaches coming on. Sometimes they made me a little crazy.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” he said in a low, grim voice, his eyes glittering at me.

I shook my head furiously. “No. No sir,” I said and then clapped my hand over my mouth as a little puff of smoke came out. It did that sometimes when I got nervous. A little spark of sanity had finally lit up in my brain, convincing me my best bet was to keep my mouth shut. I dropped my gaze and did my best to look contrite and totally non-threatening. Not a stretch, really.

The agent leaned in again and spoke softly to me. “You won’t get rid of me so easily, you know. I’ll keep coming until you…” he looked me up and down, “give me what I need. Will you do that, Luca?”

“I-I’ll try,” I whispered.

His words, or maybe his nearness, had caused my cock to stiffen, which surprised me so much that I let him grip my elbow again. I had no idea that near-death experiences were an aphrodisiac for me. In a smooth maneuver, he turned me around and pushed me to the door, still holding tightly to my arm. Deciding it would be undignified to struggle, I didn’t fight it, allowing the Golden to walk me outside. As soon as the door to the bar closed behind us, I eased my upper arm from his grip.

He allowed it and simply gestured for me to lead the way. I set off at a rapid pace but his legs were so much longer than mine that by the time we’d traveled the two blocks to the store, I was practically running to keep up, the silence between us broken only by my increasingly heavy breathing. I was relieved when we finally reached my building. I stopped outside the stairway leading up to my front door.

“This is it,” I said, with the last of my breath. “Thanks. I can make it upstairs by myself.”

He glanced up at the door and back at me. “I’d like to see you to your door. This is a bad neighborhood.”

“It’s okay,” I said, dancing nervously backward toward the steps. “I need to go in. Thanks though. And I really don’t know anything about Artie Samboa or any of his business. Really I don’t.”

“Well, now see…” he said, looking me slowly up and down. “I think you know more than you’re saying.”

I stood still and shivered from the look he was giving me. “I truly do not.”

Dmitri stepped toward me and frowned down at me. “What is it? Why are you so scared of this guy? He doesn’t beat you, does he?”

The words surprised a laugh out of me. He narrowed his eyes. “No,” I said. “I’m not scared of him. If I was going to be scared of someone, I’d be scared of you.” I realized what I’d said and glanced up to see if he did.

He looked shocked. “Why do you say that?”

“The way you’re looking at me—and the fact you’re a Golden.”

Goldens had a reputation for being the most out-of-control of all the pure-bloods when it came to breeding humans and Spawn. See, the one thing that all pure-bloods could agree on was their attraction to humans, and that carried over to Spawn, who were half-human. So even though they felt that we were far beneath them on a social scale, we were a guilty pleasure to mate with, and they loved to fuck us. And Goldens were the worst by far.

Since pure-bloods didn’t limit themselves in any way, they created the very thing they said they reviled—Spawn. And of course, the problem with Spawn was that after we were born, there we were—a constant reminder of how pure-bloods like this Golden hadn’t been strong enough to resist temptation. It was all part of the perverse nature of Dragons. They hated us for our very existence—for which they were responsible.

I raised my chin defiantly. “I know what you think of me. Of all the Spawn. Yet right now, you’re dying to fuck me up against the nearest wall, whether I’m willing or not.”

Dmitri stared down at me for a long moment, looking uneasy and shifting his feet. I wanted badly to steal a look at the bulge in his jeans, but I didn’t dare. “You don’t know anything.”

“You’re right. I don’t. Sorry—it was just an observation. I’ll shut up now.”

He made a little growling noise, stepping closer, pulled me roughly into his arms and those lush, perfect lips came down over mine in a frantic, devouring kiss. His hands moved down to cup my ass, and I curled my fingers into his shirt and clung to him. He kissed my cheek, my ear, my nose and then moved back to my lips again. He pulled my hips in tight to grind against him. I was hugging him so tightly I didn’t think he’d ever shake me off. His knee wedged between my thighs and he pulled me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist. He moved to push me up against the wall and then spent some quality time kissing me some more. His cock was straining against me, and it was getting harder to breathe.

“I want you,” he moaned against my lips.

I looked up at him, out of breath and out of my mind, because I said, “Take me then.”

Dmitri took a deep breath, lowered me to my feet and took a step back. I couldn’t believe it—I was so hot and bothered by this time that I thought I was about to spontaneously combust. Surely he wasn’t going to just leave me like this. Was he? My hands were tingling all the way to my shoulders and I swayed a little, almost dizzy with need.

“Go upstairs now and go to bed. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

“You-you don’t want to go up with me?” I groaned, feeling reckless. I should have been running in the other direction, as far and as fast as I could, but he was so damn beautiful. Even knowing he could destroy me didn’t stop me wanting him.

He gave me an unfathomable look, then shook his head regretfully and whirled around to leave. I still had some pride left—a little—so I turned my back on him and trudged to the steps. As I began to slowly climb, his voice drifted up the stairs behind me. “Lock the door behind you, Luca.”

I just kept walking and never looked back at him.

Stepping inside, I locked the door in a daze and then leaned against it, feeling exhausted and more than a little confused by it all. The old, familiar pain was beginning in my head. Not bad yet, but still promising me a sleepless night. I could hear Dmitri’s footsteps fading away outside, and hurried to the only window I had to watch the gorgeous agent walking away. He had such a nice ass. I wondered what in the hell I’d gotten myself into because that kiss had melted my insides, and I wanted more. I turned away from the window with a sigh and began to undress. Afterward, I lay back on the bed keeping the worst of the pain at bay by stroking myself to the memory of Dmitri’s mouth on mine. I fantasized about him sticking his cock down my throat until I came in my hand harder than I had in months.

No way was this thing going to end well. No way in hell.