Page 46 of Draco's Fire

"Did he make any mention of any partners? Anyone he was working with?"

"No. He only talked about himself," Shayla answered.

"I just wish I knew what motivated him to do this. Or who he might have been working with, but I guess we'll never know. But Tyson, you did the right thing. He was a genius biochemist. If he was allowed to continue his work, who knows how many shifters his concoctions could have killed."

Gil looked over at the corpse one more time. He had made his face like stone, but there was a lot going on in his eyes that Tyson couldn't decipher.

"I'll get agents from my PEACE liaison team to help sort out the evidence. There might be something here that could tell us more about what was going on here."

Then he looked at Shayla and Tyson and said, "I think we should get you two to a hospital."

Thirty

Shayla

Shayla watched Tyson the whole time they were in the hospital getting checked out. She was still trying to gauge what the emotional aftermath of his decision to kill Dain would be.

By the time they got to the hospital, the punctures from the IV needles had stopped bleeding. In the end, all he needed physically was a few stitches. The wound from Dain's skin sample wouldn't close otherwise.

Tyson's clothes were still in tatters, but he didn't much seem to mind. After they were discharged, Tyson took Shayla to his penthouse, where he finally stripped off the barely functional clothing.

He opened a drawer, and Shayla laid her hand on his. While she enjoyed the sight of the hard planes of his muscles and all his nudity had to offer, it wasn't her only motivation for stopping him.

"I need a shower. Care to join me?" she asked, trying to keep her voice on the border between calming and seductive. She still wasn't one hundred percent sure what Tyson needed more right now. She just hoped she could find out.

"Yeah. A shower sounds nice."

Shayla pulled off her own clothes and then grabbed him by the hand and led him to the bathroom like she owned the place.

Tyson didn't seem to have any objection. When they got to the bathroom, Shayla turned the shower on, tipping it towards the scalding. If any man could withstand the water temperature as hot as she liked it, it would most certainly be a dragon.

The hot water soon clouded the glass walls of the shower, and Shayla pulled Tyson in. Just as she suspected, he made no indication that the water was too hot for him.

"Turn around," she said.

Giving her a smirk, he did as he was told. Then she began soaping his back. She worked her way around his body, careful of his arm where the stitches were. Starting from the bottom, she worked up his legs. When she made her way to his cock, he was already half-hard, and it didn't take long for her efforts to get him all the way there.

"I have to make sure this part is extra clean," she said, running her hand up and down his thick shaft until he shuddered. Then she winked at him and said, "My turn."

He took the washcloth from her and started with her back as well. He ended up following the same path she'd used on his body. Though he lingered on her chest, massaging her breasts before rolling her nipples into stiff peaks.

It sent a shiver straight to her aching pussy. When she'd had enough, she guided him lower, but instead of getting right to where she wanted him, he instead knelt before her and started with her legs at the bottom just as she had. Except he was moving agonizingly slow.

Or perhaps he moved at the same pace she had, and it was just more torturous being on this end of it. He rinsed the washcloth before bringing it between her legs, the friction causing her to shudder. He set it aside and then began massaging her folds with his fingers.

"I have to make sure this part is extra clean," he said, grinning up at her. She rested her hands on top of his shoulders to steady herself as her knees started to feel weak. He was doing a very thorough job of getting her clean.

He had her so wound up that by the time he finally brushed her clit with his thumb, she cried out, and her nails dug into his flesh as she came.

"I want you inside me," she said.

"Not yet," he replied, placing a hand on her chest, and gently pushing her until her back met the slightly chilled tile of the wall.

She let out a small squeak of protest that was silenced when he threw one of her legs over his shoulder and buried his face between her thighs. He started licking her with the same agonizing slowness he'd used with his fingers. With one hand, she wound her fingers through his hair, and with the other, she tugged on one nipple.

His tongue continued to explore her. And again, by the time he barely brushed her clit with his tongue, she exploded, her voice echoing off the shower walls. In the back of her mind, she was thankful he had a penthouse.

Otherwise, she might worry about the neighbors hearing.

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