Authors: Kassanna
He studied the landscape. A few feet away was another, smaller building. Stalking to it, he noted the points where a defensive position could be held. He crinkled his nose at the smell of oil and rust, and could only make out shapes in the darkness. A quick glance around the door and he found a lantern. Light illuminated the area when he lit the wick. It wasn’t just a shed. This looked like a work area. Maps were stapled to the walls. He stomped into the room and took a closer look. Some of the images resembled the ink on Synda’s body. Barely discernible writing was scribbled along the edges of the old paper.
An old roll top desk was closed. He tried to lift the wood. Locked, the top didn’t budge. There were answers secured in that desk. He’d come back and break it open later. On the other side of the room, several pieces of plywood rested against the wall. Above that, tools hung on pegs nailed to the wall. Next to the devices were shelves that contained screws and smaller items.
A last look at the paper laden work area and Kirill grabbed a hammer from its spot, snatched up a handful of nails, and dragged the plywood out. A draft slammed the shed’s door shut behind him.
He could hear the rush of water as he climbed the stairs. Kirill eased the accordion door to the side and caught sight of Synda’s form through the thin shower curtain. Picking up a towel from the back of the toilet, he shut the barrier. After wiping the dampness from his body, he draped the towel around his neck and went in search of a bed.
* * * *
Synda lifted her face toward the stream of water that flowed from above her. Kirill had the hot water working within minutes of leaving her. She picked up the soap from the inset in the wood and starting with her hair, lathered her unruly tresses. The warm water pounding on her skin sent tingles along her limbs. Slowly she worked her way down, suds gathered at her feet as she as the drifted down her body. The smell of jasmine filed the room. She rinsed off and turned the knob, reaching beyond the curtain to grab her towel off the back of the toilet. Her hand hit cold plastic. She patted the space and stuck her dripping head around the curtain.
Her towel was gone.
Cold air sent icy fingers down her spine as she stepped from the warmth of the enclosure. She shivered and noticed the way the lights flickered. The generator had to be getting low on oil. Dammit, she should have told Kirill about that.
She rubbed her arms as the water cooled on her skin. Synda jumped up and down a few times and drops fell from her locks. She yanked the door back, and it slid into its pocket. The house was quiet and freezing. Behind her, the lights snapped off and back on just as quickly. She flipped the switch to save on energy and ran from the bathroom toward the minute linen closet.
She glanced in the bedrooms she passed along the hall and stopped short. Kirill lay in her bed, his feet hanging off the slim twin mattress. Tossed on the nightstand next to him was her missing towel. She walked into the room, the soles of her feet making light slapping sounds on the wood floor. This was her first opportunity to actually see him while he slept. The sharp cut of his angular features softened in repose. He appeared almost boyish. His hair fell away from his face, and he had a few days’ whiskers on his chin. She reached out to caress his jaw. Heat radiated off him, and she bent closer, basking in his warmth.
Synda straightened and lifted her palm when he reached out to wrap her wrist in a steely grip. His eyes opened and he stared up at her. “Where are you off to now?”
“I need a towel, someone stole mine.”
He smiled, and that even show of teeth had her heart racing. “I can warm you so much more effectively than any piece of fabric.”
“No doubt,” she responded drily.
He yanked her down on top of him. “We have time before morning. Why not make the most of it.”
“Is that all you think about?”
“When it comes to you, it is one of the things I think of most often.” He bowed up to press a kiss to her throat.
She reared back bringing her arms between them, her forearms on his chest. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Love me. How are your ribs?” He scooted back and studied her side before pulling her up with him.
She bit her lip, her nipples hardening from his touch. “Much better. I’m a quick healer.”
Kirill eased her around to sit in his lap and slid his hands up along the fading purple bruise, stopping just below the curve of her breast. He shifted in the bed, widening his legs, and she fell into the “”V” they formed. His growing erection bumped the small of her back, and he slid his other hand across her stomach while nuzzling her neck.
“You always smell so good,
slaa dast
,” he whispered.
She sighed. “Why are you always calling me that?”
“Sweetness? Because that is what you are. My sweetness.” He moved his hand up to cup her breast and rubbed his thumb over the tight tip. “I have waited so long to find you. Can you blame me for wanting to bury myself in you?”
The way he circled her areola and teased her tight nub sent a sizzle of current directly to her pussy. Cream flowed over her sensitive tissue. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the fine hairs of his thighs tickled her palms where she gipped his legs. He released her orb after a quick pinch, and skated his fingertips over her skin to massage her other breast. Gently biting on the spot where her neck and shoulder met, and then licking it to soothe the sting. He coaxed a digit between her thighs and she spread her legs to give him better access to her cleft. She wiggled her hips when he stroked her clit, tracing a finger along her moist folds. His cock jerked against her back.
He followed the shell of her ear with his tongue and took her lobe between his teeth, biting down as he thrust a finger into her channel. She fell back against his chest. He inserted another finger, and she flexed her vaginal muscles and rolled her hips against his hand.
Kirill moved his mouth across her shoulder. “Will you play with me,
slaa dast
?”
Her mind felt like it had more holes in it than a sieve, and she couldn’t hold a thought. His hands and mouth felt like they were everywhere at once. His hand left her breast, and she caught a slight movement from the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she caught him lifting a candle from the nightstand. She grabbed the thought from his question and cleared her throat. The slick sounds of his fingers thrusting into her, and the building wave coalescing in the pit of her stomach, made her pant out her response. “Play what?”
“Trust me with your body, Synda.” He added a third digit and her world exploded.
Huge sunbursts of vibrant color ignited before her eyes, and she closed them as her orgasm shook her. She dropped the back of her head against his shoulder, her limbs twitching as the surges subsided. Air ran over the sensitive tissue and she quivered. She felt the tug on her scalp as he pushed her hair from his face.
His breath tickled her ear, the sound of his voice deep with emotion. “You are so beautiful when you come, sweetness.” He held the candle out in front of them. “Let me show you the true enjoyment of playing with fire.”
Fire.
That one word cut through the haze in her mind. “It’s not good to play with fire. Not smart for humans.”
“But you’re not wholly human, Synda, and to dragons, fire is the ultimate in foreplay. I won’t hurt you. I promise you will enjoy what I want to do with you.” He eased from behind her and propped her body up on the pillows he’d been laying on. “Let me show you what it’s like to love and be loved as a dragon.”
Kirill twirled the candlestick through his fingers and crouched at her side. She met his gaze and saw the bright light of blue fire in his eyes. His excitement was like a rush, catching her in his enthusiasm. When she didn’t say anything, he clasped her open palms and dropped the candle between them. It was tall and slender, the standard emergency candle.
She swallowed and slid her hands up and down the smooth cylinder. “This can’t be used for play. How exactly does this play in with the use of fire?”
He groaned and cupped his palms over hers. “Simple. Truthfully, this isn’t something I would propose for a human, but we can modify it for a hybrid like yourself.”
She looked up and into his clear blue eyes.
“Let’s play a game,
slaa dast
.” He rose and perched himself on the edge of the bed. Lifting the candle close to his mouth, he blew out a breath and a spark lit the wick. Flame sizzled up and illuminated the room. He touched the fire with his fingers, and when he pulled them away, the flame seemed to follow his hand. “Turn over, love. I want to show you just how special you are. If you get uncomfortable or don’t like what I’m doing, say so. I want you to find pleasure in our games.”
Synda slowly nodded as she eyed the candle. She eased onto her stomach and tried to imagine what he saw. Her back was tatted from shoulder to waist with different landscapes. Once she’d turned eighteen, her father had suggested she have her skin inked to reflect her heritage. He told her they were different places that her people had occupied during dragon history. She bunched a pillow under her and rested her cheek on the fresh linen. Sadness that she might not be able to see her father again filled her, and a tear slid across the bridge of her nose.
Kirill leaned close. “Why do you cry, Synda?” He pressed his lips to the corner of her eye.
“Just thinking.”
“Stop thinking and feel. Regardless of our circumstances, we are that much more dangerous together. Now close your eyes, sweetness.”
She felt the bed dip in the middle as he crawled between her legs. Unable to see what he was doing, she braced herself for whatever he’d planned. Warmth touched her shoulders, and she felt his breath flow along her bare skin, sending the heat in all directions. Her pussy throbbed, and she smacked her legs against his when she tried to close them. The onslaught on her back continued, and tingles spread through her as she felt the flash of heat in different places, followed by him blowing air across the spots.
She closed her eyes tight and crumpled the pillow in her fists. Heat traveled down the middle of her back, and she arched. His palm gripped the back of her neck, and he urged her down. She heard him huff, and a sulfuric smell made her scrunch up her nose.
The coarse rasp of his tongue along her spine followed the heat. He smacked her ass, and she cried out in pleasure. Another slap to her buttocks and she could feel her juices coating the membranes of her pussy, her channel clenching. Her pelvis came off the bed as she humped air. One last swipe over her skin, then a warmth covered one butt cheek then the other. She felt the nip of his teeth as he bit the spot. He dragged his lips over the tender place. His fingers slid between her labia.
“All this for me, sweetness? I’m honored.” His voice became sexier and deeper with his accent. He smacked his lips.
She tried to see over her shoulder and whimpered. His kisses covered her skin, and then his lips touched her pucker hole and she tried to crawl forward. He clamped his hands down on her thighs pinning her to the bed. The point of his tongue traced her starfish and her nerves drew taut. She knew exactly where his mouth, his hands were. The slide of his palms up her legs made her moan into the pillow. The blunt tips of his fingers dug into her butt as he spread her cheeks. She kicked her feet up and down.
“You have no patience, love.” He chuckled.
Then his tongue was working against her hole. The warmth of his palms bled into each cheek, the sound of his open mouth kisses loud in the small room. He moved his finger along her cleft and teased her clit, mimicking the motions of his mouth.
“Yes, yes, yes.” Her words became a mantra.
“Synda?”
Her father’s voice?
She had to be hearing things. “Synda?” There it was again.
Footfalls echoed through the cabin. She came up on her elbows and looked back. Kirill had stopped altogether, his nostrils flaring. Two men bombarded the doorway and Synda squinted to make out the smaller figure in front. Recognition roiled through her and her cheeks burned. She grabbed the sheet beneath her and tugged it up before falling to the side.
A boisterous laugh came from the man behind her father. “Well hell, what has been seen cannot be unseen. Kirill, I found Manx the Supreme.”
Chapter Ten
Manx looked around his demolished living room, noting the boarded up window, broken furniture and burned lines that looked as if Synda’s mate had breathed fire after a scurrying cockroach. He shook his head and kept walking toward the kitchen. The lights flickered, and he spun around to face Timur.
“Timur, there is a generator in the tool shed about eighty foot back. Shouldn’t be too hard to find since I’m assuming that’s where your friend got the wood. Anyway, there are a few barrels of oil in the shed next to it. Could you get some oil in the machine for me, before it goes kaput?” Manx shuffled to a cabinet and pulled out a coffee can.
“Are you trying to get rid of me so you can talk to Kirill?” Timur laughingly asked.
“Yes.” Manx didn’t bother to turn around. Instead he scooped a cap full of his guilty pleasure into his old French press.
“Don’t kill him.” Timur’s parting words made Manx chuckle.