Page 3 of Licking Fire

“I shall end my existence,” he said with certainty, for he would not live such a life. He had already lived such a long full one that none would blame him. It was the honorable thing to do among his kind. “There is no way I’ll roam about with a limp dick.”

A cool night breeze blew past, and Rayer’s body was quick to warm. Had he been in shifted form, the results would have been much different. In shifted form, his body matched the environment. It had been too long since he’d last afforded himself the freedom of shifting to dragon, and the dragon in him was most displeased.

He pivoted and entered his expansive home. It was elegant and professionally decorated. Nothing but the best for him.

He opened his palm and stared at the handwritten parchment from his cousin. Longing burned deep within him. He didn’t want to be jealous. He should be joyous for Zarek. Instead, the green-eyed monster bit him, and he couldn’t help but be envious. Yes, he bedded many women. There was never a shortage of willing bed partners in the city. But none filled the emptiness within him. None was the one.

Walking to the fireplace, Rayer snorted and then held the parchment out. There were secrets the humans in his life could not know. What he was happened to be one of them. He sucked in a breath and then released it, allowing his mouth to partially shift forms as he did. Flames licked past his lips at the parchment. He shifted his hand as well, permitting deep-gold scales to cover it. The scales were resistant to heat, allowing him to hold the letter until it burned nearly away. The ashes fell into the open fireplace, and Rayer’s hand and mouth returned to human form.

There would be no visiting Zarek and his mate Keren for the holidays—though they asked yearly. Rayer would have his assistant send gifts to them and to their children, and that would be the end of that. He couldn’t sit in their happy home and not be a jealous beast. He simply wasn’t a big enough man to do so.

The buzzer from the front desk of his high-rise rang. Rayer approached the intercom system and pressed the button, a level of sorrow resting in his voice. “Yes?”

“Mr. Drackos,” said Timothy, the evening front doorman. “There is a young woman here. Says it's imperative she speak with you, sir. I would have sent her away like the others who try to see you, but, sir…you should see her.”

Rayer’s brow knit. Timothy had worked the evening shift at the front desk for over a decade. He knew Rayer well. Perhaps too well. He knew Rayer’s secrets, and how much he valued his privacy. He also understood that Rayer did not have visitors to his home.

His assistant, Tobias, wasn’t even permitted access to his home. Rayer had an office building where he conducted his business affairs. And he used expensive hotels to bed women when he wanted a fuck. No one but him entered his personal dwelling.

Timothy had never pushed for him to accept any visitor, and that in itself piqued Rayer’s curiosity. “Send the woman up.”

“Yes, sir.” Timothy was quiet a moment before the intercom engaged once more. “And if I may, sir. Wise choice.”

Something within Rayer stirred. He huffed out a tiny puff of smoke, his emotions running high. A sudden tightness gripped his stomach, and it confused him. Was he anxious? Worried? Why? He was well known for his calm exterior and icy demeanor in business dealings.

Rayer adjusted himself, his balls suddenly heavy and in need of release. He glanced at the front door, wondering what this woman heading toward him wanted, and if she was attractive. He could use a fuck, and while he didn’t ever partake in such activities in his home, he could make an exception just this once.

Maybe.

He set his empty wineglass on the counter and then positioned himself before the large gilded mirror near the entrance to his home. His dark hair was unruly and refused to stay slicked back like he wished it would. There was nothing he could do about his eyes. They were turquoise. Most humans assumed they were contacts. He let them believe he was an eccentric billionaire with a flair for shocking people.

He cuffed the sleeves of his deep red silk shirt and smoothed the front of his designer black pants. He liked his clothing high end. He liked nice things. And he wasn’t ashamed to admit he took great pride in himself and his body. He worked out regularly and practiced martial arts several times a week. All things that kept him ready for anything.

Anything except unexpected guests, apparently, as a light sheen of sweat broke out over his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, bewildered as to what his problem suddenly was. Had he contracted a rare supernatural virus? If so, what?

After a few moments, there was a knock at the door. Rayer drew in a deep breath, his body jerking with need as the undertones of woman, vanilla, and cream filtered to him, pushing past the smells of the city. He clenched his fists, doing his best to control the dragon within. It wanted to peek out and see for itself what wonders lie just beyond the closed door. It wanted to sample the female.

He’d not had sex in nearly three weeks. Work had been all consuming, and he’d not bothered to stop and scratch his manly itch. From the smell of it, a hot little number had come calling. Her scent appealed to him on all levels. The scary part was that his dragon side had taken an interest. It had never done so before in all his nearly six hundred years, not with any of the thousands of women he’d bedded.

Different.

His dragon side thrust the word into his mind, making him take notice of it. The dragon wanted him to know, before he opened the door, that the woman beyond it was different from the others.

More.

Mine.

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