Samhain Publishing

Burn, baby, burn…

Para-Mates, Book 2

Chrissy Taylor doesn’t believe in a lot of things. Her life, and her career as a supernatural myth-buster, are ruled by logic and skepticism. Love at first sight? Forget it—until she’s swept off her feet by Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious.

The next thing she knows, she’s done the most illogical thing imaginable: run off to Vegas for a quickie marriage. And Mr. TD&M’s insatiable hunger for her body is starting to feel suspiciously like an attempt to make her the one thing she fears most. Pregnant.

Even though Kaine sets Chrissy’s world on fire—literally—she can’t resist embarking on her toughest debunking mission yet. She must unearth the truth about her new husband before desire consumes the last of her reason.

Kaine Delcaluca is withholding the fact that he’s a dragon, but time is of the essence. He desperately needs an heir to save his dynasty. Plus, he has an even bigger problem. The Scepter of Fire, the only weapon powerful enough to kill a dragon, has gone missing. If he fails to find it—and knock up his new bride—within the next few days, his people are doomed…

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 Copyright © 2010 Beverly Rae
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

I married a dragon.

There. I said it. I finally got the words out.

Let’s face it. It’s not exactly the kind of statement anyone thinks they’ll ever make. In fact, “I married a dragon” would fly high on the list of the World’s Most Incredible Statements, along with such implausible declarations as “I bit the nose off a grizzly bear” or “I use the Hope diamond for a doorstop”.

If you can’t believe that an intelligent thirty-five-year-old woman can find herself married to a fire-breathing dragon without knowing who, or rather what, she married, then you aren’t alone. I still find it difficult to believe and I’m the woman. It’s even more unbelievable when you consider how I make my living.

You see, I expose the paranormal hocus-pocus of our world.

Yep, you got it. I’m a real-life paranormal investigator and debunker of all things scary that go bump in the night. Do you hear strange noises in your house? Call me. I’ll find bats—the non-vampire type—in your attic. Are Grammy’s favorite knickknacks moving from the curio cabinet and to the kitchen counter when nobody’s at home? I’ll nab the neighbor’s teen while he’s doing a little B&E, playing his not-so-funny poltergeist joke again. Got a psychic charging you big bucks to contact Uncle Marty and get him to spill his ghostly guts on where he hid his lottery winnings? Better keep your job. You’ll need it once I show you Madame Sheneeka’s arrest record for running a not-so-supernatural scam.

Yeah, I know. Some people do believe in werewolves, demons and other creatures of folklore and mythology. Shoot, even my best friend from college is a believer. We used to get embroiled in heated discussions about the possible existence of supernatural beings Jenn called Otherworlders. At the time, I thought she was eccentric and, yes, maybe skirting the fringes of wacko.

Now I guess I owe her an apology.

Ah, yes. I can almost see your bemused smile. Dragons don’t exist. Therefore, I must be telling one whopper of a story. But don’t break out the laugh track too fast. Sure, I understand your reluctance to accept what I’m saying. But trust me, when my hubby morphs to full fire-breathing size, it’s hard to miss the guy.

I bet you’re wondering how I couldn’t see my future husband for what he was. Well, let’s just say when in his human form, the man could give a movie star a run for the ladies. Women and men stop and give him a double take. So how does someone find a dragon, much less marry one? The truth of the matter is that I didn’t find him. In fact, he’d been searching for me. That’s right. My handsome draggy-poo found me.

Before I knew it, I became Christina Taylor-Delcaluca. Delcaluca is an ancient name running through several generations of—wait for it—dragons. But who knew? I’d assumed (and you know what happens when you assume) Delcaluca was an old Italian name. Not a name associated with the Dragon Dynasty. (I’ll get into the dynasty part later on in my story.)

I grew up in Atlanta, with two loving parents who believed that every mystery had a logical explanation and they passed their practical attitudes on to me. After spending a whole lot of time in endless low-paying jobs, I decided to put my drilled-in skepticism to good use by disproving the stories of poltergeists, malevolent spirits, boogie monsters and whatever other creatures poor delusional people believed in. I started a struggling business called Debunkers, Inc. Hey, the money still sucks, but at least I’m doing what I enjoy: dragging the frights of the night out into the light of the day. So you can understand why I didn’t realize what my lover was when we first met, can’t you? My mind simply wouldn’t accept the fact that dragons and other supernatural beings existed.

I met my smokin’-hot (pun intended) hubby at my friend Thad Pittman’s over-the-top birthday bash on Lake Lanier. Thad—pronounced Tad for reasons known only to him—Pittman is one of my best friends. Too bad he’s gay or I’d have considered hauling his handsome bod into bed. Anyway, I was at his party when I decided I needed a breather from the wild antics of his less inhibited friends.

I stood on a boat dock a few yards away from another dock where a group of partiers were toasting Thad with Dom Perignon champagne. Although he didn’t make much money as an actor or a playwright, he always had cash in hand. In fact, he often joked about the pot of gold hidden away in his basement.

In typical Thad style, he’d decided the best way to break the drought in Atlanta was to offer a sacrifice to the Rain Gods. The sacrifice, of course, wasn’t the champagne. I mean, the man’s not stupid, just sometimes certifiable. No, the sacrifice consisted of Thad and the others pouring bottled water onto the dry edges of the lake. They did this while imploring the Water Witch and other imagined deities to bring in the clouds, which, of course, was sung to the tune of “Bring In the Clowns”. Fortunately for me and anyone else within hearing distance, the singing transitioned from off-key harmonics to overly dramatic prayers aimed at the cloudless sky.

“Rain, baby, rain!” Thad raised his arm in the air, then turned the water bottle over, letting the liquid pour into the parched ground surrounding the dock. Several years of drought conditions had left many of the boat docks high and dry. Thad’s friends did the same, echoing him by adding their own pleas.

“Let it rain, Cloud King!”

“Shake, rumble and roll, Oh, Great Thunder Lord!”

“Powerful Lightning Wizard, we call on you to make it rain!”

“Flood me, Downpour Diva!”

“Oh, brother.” I forced myself to stay on my dock and not rush over to stop them. All I saw was a group of intoxicated people wasting perfectly good bottled water. (Yeah, I know. Sometimes I can be a real killjoy.) But after finishing my latest assignment—debunking yet another supposedly haunted house—Thad had ordered me, with a firm and not-so-subtle command, to not mix my business with his pleasure. Since it was his birthday, I did my best to honor his wishes, although a big part of me wanted nothing more than to go home to my tiny overpriced studio apartment, curl up with a good autobiography and scarf down a pint of Ben and Jerry’s newest flavor.

Thad waved to me, calling me over to join the fun, but I shook my head. I took another sip of my champagne and moved farther out on the dock, going almost all the way to the edge before I could see any water through the gaps between the boards. I took off my shoes, settled down on the edge and let my feet dangle in the water. With a heavy sigh, I took another drink and looked up at the moon. In a rare fanciful mood, I let my mind wander and tried to imagine a real man staring back at me. I sighed again. My love life was as dry as the Georgia ground. Sheesh, when I start fantasizing about the man up there, it’s time to get laid. Waay past time.

I gulped down the last drops of my drink and closed my eyes, listening to Thad and his buddies stumbling up the sloped hillside to his rented lake house. I should rejoin the party. Instead of hopping up and rushing off to do my BFF duty, I rested my back against the wood and searched the clear skies for any sign that Thad’s sacrifices had worked. Yeah, like that’ll happen.

A splashing sound interrupted my contemplation and I turned my head to gaze over the smooth surface of the lake. Another splash, sounding closer, brought me to a sitting position to scan the glassy water closer. My mind was already working on the most logical explanation.

Probably just a fish. I frowned at the water. Then why didn’t I see any ripples? Unless it had been a very small fish. But then the sound wouldn’t have been so loud. Giving the lake another look, I decided to let it pass. I was supposed to be off duty, anyway. Telling myself to follow Thad’s order to relax, I leaned back down on the dock and tried to chill.

A dark form, shrieking loud enough to pop my eardrums, flew over the corner piling and aimed straight for me. One red eye glared at me from the middle of a grotesquely-formed head, and razor-sharp fangs flashed in the moonlight. All of this happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to react. Fortunately for me, I didn’t have to.

A figure dressed in black jumped between the thing and me. I gasped, frozen to the spot as my hero reached out a large hand covered in some kind of golden leathery material and grabbed the watery beast. Stunned, I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, hoping that when I opened them again, I’d realize my eyes had been playing tricks on me. Did I drink that much?

Another shriek filled the air, only this time terror mixed with ferociousness in the sound. A crack had me opening my eyes to see my hero, his back turned toward me, flinging a limp and obviously dead thing away from us.

The man must’ve played major league baseball or shot the put—put the shot?—in the Olympics, because the attacking fish-thingy soared through the air, going the impossible distance to the middle of the lake. My mouth dropped open and I was powerless to close it. No one could throw anything that far. Not even an Olympian. Several seconds later, the thing hit the water and disappeared into the black depths.

“Omigod!”

The man whirled to face me and I knew at that exact moment one of two things had happened. Either (1) I’d swilled a shitload of champagne or (2) I needed more relaxation than even Thad knew. Why? Because for a second, I would’ve sworn the face of my champion had changed from a man to something else. Something not quite human.

Fear and surprise had me closing my eyes again. Releasing pent-up anxiety, I repeated an impromptu mantra three times. I am not drunk. I am not drunk. I am not drunk. Maybe I should’ve said I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I am not crazy. Either way, I didn’t look forward to opening my eyes and finding out which condition I was in.

The rational me, however, knew I had to. Holding my breath, I peeked and found myself staring into the most gorgeous green eyes I’d ever seen. He’d moved closer and was kneeling beside me. His face—a chiseled movie-star face even Thad would envy—was so close I could’ve nibbled on his lips. And oh, how I wanted to do just that! Among other parts of him, of course. You know. Just a nibble or two.

Thankfully, my eyes were functioning quite well. With a quick glimpse at the rest of his body, I registered the black pants and black silk shirt he wore. The V formed by the open collar of his shirt highlighted a hard chest and a small sideways figure eight tattoo at the base of his throat. I wondered briefly why he’d chosen to tat his throat, but that was the least of his allure. His air of sophistication mixed with a natural casualness reminded me of a James Bond type. He definitely did not look like the average renter at the lake. Although he didn’t wear a tie or a belt, an expensive gold watch adorned his wrist and two rings, one on each hand, sparkled under the moonlight. A lot of men can’t get away with wearing diamonds, but this guy sure could. Hell, he could’ve gotten away with anything. And I do mean anything (wink, wink).

An after-five stubble formed a U from one ear, around his chin, and up to the other. Still, I knew he would look rugged even clean-shaven. Dark hair, curling a bit at the ends, framed his tanned face. I could never get enough of staring at him even if I stayed with him for a thousand years. Wow, where did that thought come from?

Swallowing, I forced my brain train to hop onto the rationality track again. But the brain train would only creep at minimum speed. I waited, letting the train chug along until, at last, it gained enough momentum. I gulped again and attempted to open my mouth to speak—at exactly the same moment he ran his tongue over his upper lip. The train ground to a screeching halt with the conductor hopping out of the engine to inspect the roadblock derailing my thoughts. Unfortunately for me, one of the cars broke free, jumped the track and careened toward the depot called my mouth.

“Ahwkern.”

One perfectly groomed eyebrow arched upward.

“Ehhhh…bwa…errr. Ugh.”

Humor twinkled in those brilliant green eyes. He tilted his head at me. “Are you trying to speak?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you able to speak?”

Holy crap. Barry White move over. His voice was the voice to end all voices. If every woman in the world could hear the deep, rich timbre coming out of his mouth, they’d slap duct tape over other men’s pie holes. I doubted I’d ever want another man to speak to me after hearing this guy. And all I wanted at that moment was to hear him speak again. I didn’t care what he said just as long as he said it to me. Too bad I still had my runaway brain train to contend with.

Come on, Chrissy! Don’t let this chance pass. I’d never found myself face to face with a real, live god-like male before and I couldn’t blow this opportunity. I cleared my throat, shook my head to remove that mental roadblock and tried again, hoping I could convince him that I wasn’t the Speechless Wonder. “Wow. That was quite a throw.”

Yeah, I know. It wasn’t the cleverest remark anyone had ever made, but, hey, at least he could understand me.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I cringed inside and promised I’d enroll in an impromptu public speaking class the very next day.

The tips of his mouth curved upward and I reached out to touch them. (Seriously! I actually reached out to touch them.) Obviously, the village idiot had jumped on the caboose and been promoted to conductor.

But here’s the really good part. Instead of jerking away or scowling at me, he took my hand and pressed his lips to the center of my palm. The action from any other man would have seemed corny, but not this guy. He was definitely the coolest of the cool.

Of course, I reacted in my own cool and collected fashion—not. Instead of playing Cinderella to his Prince Charming and acting all classy and charming, I stopped breathing. I swear I did. I physically held my breath. Then, as if I couldn’t act like more of a dumbass, I giggled.

Omigod. Please let me die right now. I just giggled at the man. And not a tickling, sweet-sounding ingénue-type laugh, mind you. Oh, no. I had to let loose with an all-out-there, teeny-bopper crush titter. Had I no shame left? Amazingly, however, he didn’t appear to notice.

“Are you all right?”

Thank goodness I’d dressed for the party in nice slacks and a flattering blouse instead of wearing my usual lake wear of tattered jean shorts and faded halter top. I nodded and hoped playing the silent and semi-cute damsel-in-distress would be my best option. At least until my mind started performing at its usually high-functioning level.

Still holding my hand, he helped me to my feet, glossing over my total awestruck stupidity. Feeling something wet at the corner of my lips, I clamped my mouth shut. Did I almost drool?

“I’m sorry, but did you hear me? Are you all right?”

His concerned gaze stuck with mine, holding both my attention and my heart. “Uh, yeah.” Damn it, Chrissy, you can do better than that. “I mean, yes. I’m fine. Thanks to you.” At last, the entire brain train was back on course and moving down the track toward Cognitive Ability Land. I glanced down at my hand in his, wanting to take full pleasure of the remaining time he would hold it. He was bound to let go soon. I mean, that’s the saying, right? All good things must come to a finish? Damn those stupid sayings.

Instead, he took my other hand. Pleased by this unexpected development, I looked into his handsome face and found him studying me. Yet instead of matching his gaze again, I lost my nerve and turned toward the lake. “What was that thing, anyway?”

He released my hands—No! I promise to never say another word if you only take my hands again—and looked out to where the thing had disappeared into the murky depths. “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Have you?”

“Never. To tell the truth, I’m not even sure I saw what I think I saw.” Growing more comfortable with him, I smiled and ventured into Talking To a Gorgeous Guy Land. “The whole thing happened so fast. I mean, one minute this fanged sea monster was flying toward me, ready to chow down on my neck. Then in the next minute…” I let my smile grow wider. “In the next minute, you’re standing above me, saving me from a brutal attack.” Wow. Do I sound dramatic or what? Thad would’ve loved to hear me talking like one of those people who actually believe in monsters and shining knights.

His smile carved dimples into his cheeks. Holy crap. Can the man get any sexier? Although his dimples fascinated me, I let my gaze drop to his nether regions—his mountainous nether regions. Is that Pike’s Peak under his slacks? Do I dare hope the attraction isn’t one-sided?

He cleared his throat—omigod, had he seen where I’d been looking?—whipping my attention back to those dimples.

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Does he mean my description of my rescue? Or his tented pants? Both are quite dramatic. But I didn’t mind that he thought I was over-the-top. Not as long as he kept looking at me that way. “Maybe.” Resorting to a cliché girlie gesture, I tossed my hair over my shoulder and smiled. “Maybe some of Thad’s theatrical personality has rubbed off on me.”

His smile grew into a good-natured grin. “Oh. So you’re one of the happy group that was pouring water into the lakebed?” He glanced up at Thad’s rented home, then back to me. “Did you pray to the rain gods too?”

Oh, crap. I’d assumed he was another actor-friend of Thad’s. He was simply too hunky not to be on the stage or in the movies. Although I was okay with letting him think I had a flair for the dramatic, linking me to the drunks up on the hill was a different matter. I considered my options and decided I’d best not answer. I didn’t want him to think I was that loony. “Oh, so I take it you’re not here for Thad’s birthday party?” Duh.

The dimples deepened, making me wish I could tickle each one with the tip of my tongue. This man made me hungry. And I’m not talking about my favorite late-night snack from the drive-through.

“No. No, I’m not.”

My curiosity won out over my nervousness. “Then you’re staying in one of the other rentals? Or is this your permanent home?” Please, God, don’t let him be a tourist. Please let him live in the area. If not, I’ll have to move. My sudden contemplation of moving to wherever this handsome stranger called home surprised me. But the shocked feeling soon morphed into an incredulous one when I realized I’d meant it. He was the type of man a woman would move heaven and earth—much less the meager contents of a studio apartment—to be with. After all, I could do my work anywhere mysterious things happened, and believers in the supernatural would fork over their money to have me prove them sane.

I already had half my apartment packed and ready to go when he not only didn’t break me out of my fantasy, but gave it another sprinkle of fairy dust. Sheesh! Fairy dust? When did I start thinking like one of my clients?

“Actually, yes, I do live here.”

Omigod, dreams do come true. What next? Will he invite back to his castle?“You’re kidding. Really?” I couldn’t help it. I grinned like he’d combined my two favorite holidays, Christmas and Valentine’s Day. I nearly spread my arms wide to receive my presents.

It’s true. I was stone-cold, head-over-heels in lust—dare I say love?—with the man and I didn’t even know his name. What was happening to me? I didn’t believe in love at first sight any more than I believed in the Loch Ness Monster. Yet here I stood, ready and hoping he’d whisk me away to his kingdom. Yep, my prince had arrived, not on a white stallion, but in expensive Italian loafers.

“Actually, not here at the lake. I live in Buckhead. Do you know the area?” He wrapped an arm around my waist and escorted me down the dock.

Yeah, right. Like anyone living in or around Atlanta wouldn’t know Buckhead. I inhaled, catching the scent of an intoxicating aftershave, and wanted nothing more than to lean into him. Not simply onto him, but actually into him, melding my body with his. My normal sensible nature, however, had to pick that moment to regain its rightful place in the hierarchy of my personality. Instead of leaning, I maintained a few dignified but torturous inches between our bodies. Although my libido shouted at me to hug him, lick him, devour him, years of practical thinking kept the urges at bay. “Of course, I do. In fact, I don’t live very far from there.”

What I’d said was partially true. Although my apartment wasn’t geographically far from the affluent area, it was light-years away in terms of accommodations. The wealthy of Atlanta lived in the prestigious Buckhead area with its million-dollar mansions, elegant shopping and world-class restaurants. I wasn’t a gold-digger by any means, but I have to admit I was thrilled that my newfound love was not only dashing but loaded.

“I’m glad.”

I almost stumbled at those two sweet words. Fortunately, he caught me, bringing me against his hard body and effectively killing my practical oh-so-not-wanted-right-now side of me. With my hands pressed to his chest, I looked up at him and whispered, “You are?”

“I most definitely am.”

Wow. Omigod. Wow. My little brain train chugged to an abrupt stop again. “Wow.” Had I said that last wow out loud? From the sparkle in his eyes, I realized I must have.

“Most definitely wow.” He bent over and touched his lips to mine.

A burn—faster, hotter than any burn I’d ever experienced—flashed through me, torching urges and desires I’d thought had dried up and blown away. My legs melted under the intensity of the heat, and my fingers turned clawlike to grasp the sleek material of his shirt. I moaned at the taste of him, warm, musky, mysterious. Taking my moan as a welcoming response—hell, yes!—he deepened the kiss and slid his tongue between my parted lips. Slowly, in what could only be described as an imitation of what his shaft could do inside another part of me, he stroked his tongue alongside my cheeks and over my tongue, then drove deeper still.

I couldn’t help it. I moaned again, hoping he’d interpret it correctly, scoop me into his arms and ravish me. Ravish? Since when did I talk like the heroine of a romance novel? He nibbled at the corners of my mouth and I answered my question.

Instead, he broke off the kiss—no, don’t stop!—and took a moment to look into my eyes. I held my breath, partly because I didn’t want anything to break our connection and partly because I’d eaten onions rings earlier.

He cupped my head, bringing my mouth to his again, and skimmed his teeth over my lips. I exhaled and then inhaled sharply. He skimmed across once more, this time nipping my lower lip, coaxing—yeah, like I need coaxing—my mouth to open wider. He wrapped one strong arm around my waist and I let him support me. Closing my eyes, I whimpered into his mouth and his hold tightened on me.

Please, never let go.

I couldn’t think of anything else. Only that I’d waited for this moment all my life and couldn’t stand it if he stopped now. I slid my arms over the silky smooth material, exulting in the feel of his muscular body beneath.

I’m not certain how long the kiss lasted, for a minute or for a decade, but however long it was, it wasn’t long enough. Most definitely not long enough. I could have stayed in his arms, his mouth on mine, his tongue tasting mine forever. Unfortunately, I knew all too well that life is not a fantasy and this moment had to end. Damn, double damn.

Still, once the kiss ended, I made no effort to move away from him. In fact, if he ever wanted me off his bod, he’d have to be the one to make it happen. I swore right then and there that I would never go very far from him. Ever. As in forever. Amazingly, I sensed that he didn’t want me off him, either.

We kept our arms locked around each other and leaned back only as far as was necessary to see into each other’s faces. A small smile echoed the knowing look in his eyes.

Wow.

I’ve never been really good with change. Especially big changes. Especially big and fast changes. But no one would have known it from what happened next.

For the next few hours, we sat on a bench by the lake, talking and cuddling. His name was Kaine Delcaluca—has any name ever sounded so perfect?—and he was an entrepreneur dealing in rare artifacts. Cynical me figured that meant he was a dreamer and probably couldn’t hold down a job for long. He was probably living off family money and would lose his trust fund once they got a load of me. (Yeah, I’m definitely a glass-half-empty kind of gal.) But I didn’t care if he was rich or a beggar. Just listening to his voice was enough for me.

Whenever I spoke, telling him about my business, he listened intently, eating up every word, every syllable. It’s corny, I know, but I drank him up as much as he drank me up. If someone had asked me, I would’ve told them we were lost lovers, separated by time and finally reunited. I felt like I’d known him for hundreds of years and couldn’t imagine living the rest of this life without him.

This was why, of course, I ended up hopping on his private jet and flying to Las Vegas that same night. Later, I would realize who, or rather what, my husband was.

I’d married a dragon.

Displaying 1 to 1 (of 1 reviews)  1 | by Sue Date Added: Thursday 13 May, 2010 Rating: [1 of 5 Stars!] Displaying 1 to 1 (of 1 reviews)  1 |

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