Eostre's Baskets: Stacking the Deck
Date: 2014-03-29 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Shifters
Description: Bounty Hunter and Dragon Dean returns home hoping to spend some time with his office manager and new mate Carrie. What he gets is confusion. He’s confronted with communication and connection issues. He feels attacked and backed into a corner with no direction to go in. To find a place to start he turns to Sundae’s Adult Easter Baskets hoping that this will give him a handhold to grip as he tries to break through the walls both of them have erected due to their pasts. Carrie has missed her mate but can’t take the lack of communication she feels when he’s on the job. For the longest time she’s b
Publisher: Loose Id LLC

Eostre’s Baskets:

STACKING THE DECK

Selena Illyria

www.loose-id.com

Stacking the Deck (An Eostre’s Baskets Story)

Copyright © March 2014 by Selena Illyria

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

eISBN 9781623007096

Editor: Jana Armstrong

Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone

Published in the United States of America

Loose Id LLC

PO Box 806

San Francisco CA 94104-0806
www.loose-id.com

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

* * * *

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Dedication

To Allie, Lissa Matthews, Qwillia Rain, Dawn Montgomery, and Jodi Redford

Chapter One

Three Days Until Easter

Tiredness pulled at Dean as he entered the darkened house. Silence greeted him. He didn’t expect a welcoming committee. It was well after midnight, and Carrie should be asleep—at least she better be. He locked the door and activated the alarm system. As soon as his plane had touched down and he’d gotten his car, he’d called Carrie to let her know he was on his way home.

This job had been a long one—too long. Tracking a crazy werewolf through several states and cities and then wrestling in the middle of a wet lawn while it had been in full wolf form hadn’t been fun. Dean had managed to get some of the grime off him, but he still smelled like wet dog. I need a long, hot shower. He grimaced to himself. There was no way he could get into bed with Carrie smelling like this.

As he climbed up the stairs, his mind flashed on her wavy, dark brown hair threaded through with red, her expressive java-hued eyes, and her rich cocoa skin that glimmered with a hint of her fairy light heritage. He allowed himself another smile. It had been two long months since he’d last felt the warmth of her body against his.

She hadn’t picked up the phone when he called; he had been forced to leave a message. Rather than sneak in and try to be quiet, he rushed up the stairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom, heart pounding, hope ballooning in his chest. The lamp next to his bed was on. Carrie was lying on top of the covers.

He put his bags down near the doors, toed off his shoes, then placed them on the ground before he tiptoed toward the bed. Her breathing was slow and even. Her features were soft, open, and relaxed. His heart skipped a beat as his stomach clenched. Face makeup free; plump lips parted and tempting. A finger of heat danced along his cock. Liquid fire poured into his dick, thickening it, lengthening it. The neglected organ pressed against the leg of his jeans. With a grunt, he adjusted his penis and tried to ease some of the strain.

Nothing doing.

During his time away, he hadn’t masturbated. His whole focus had been on the job and then to get home to Carrie; nothing else mattered. His dreams had been filled with her naked, wet and ready for him, in all sorts of positions. During the day his updates to her had been short. He couldn’t afford for his bounty to hear something and take advantage of his weakness. It wouldn’t be like his first hunting trip. Never again. Looking at her safe and sound, he felt the last of his tension fade away. He could breathe properly, and his senses could dull. No longer would he have to deal with dreams; now he could be with the real thing.

She shifted a little and let out a sigh. That soft sound tugged at his balls. Goose bumps rose on his skin. She made that sound—and others—when he went down on her. His dragon side awoke. Fire swirled through his body in a rolling ball. His tight control strained at its leash. To calm down, he took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of warm woman, sleep, and the dim undercurrent of arousal. His cock twitched as the pressure in his jeans increased. “Damn it.�� He grunted and stepped back.

He couldn’t just wake her up and fuck her. That would be wrong on so many levels. Dean wanted his woman awake and aware of what he was doing to her. Too bad, his predatory self responded. With a snort, the dragon curled up, keeping one golden eye open. He moved backward until he’d returned to the door and grabbed his bags. A shockwave of pain went up his leg when his heel connected with the baseboard. He winced and cursed under his breath. Panic rose with the ache. Please let her still be asleep, he pleaded silently. He looked toward the bed and saw her eyes open and glimmering in the darkness.

“Hey, dragon,” Carrie called in a sleep-roughened voice. Caution flashed on her face so quickly he wondered what it meant.

For a moment his brain stuttered in its function, and all he could do was stare. Her face was framed by tousled waves streaked with red, her wide brown eyes filled with awareness. His heart flipped once again, and his arousal grew. So much for being quiet.

“Hey, minx. Why are you awake?” He set his bags down once more and made his way to her side. He knew the answer but couldn’t help but ask. Maybe his stupidity hadn’t woke her up.

“’Cause you’re loud as hell.” She gave him a wide smile that showed off bright white teeth, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes. “No kiss hello?”

“Well, depends on which lips you want kissed,” he teased, unable to keep from bringing sexual banter into play. He started to say something else, but her full, throaty laugh caught him off guard and caused his stomach muscles to clench and his heartbeat to speed up.

Once she recovered, she raised one sculpted, dark-brown brow. “Well, someone feels randy right now. Why don’t you put those bags away, take a shower, and join me in bed and find out.”

She sat up to show that she had slept in one of his well-worn black shirts and her pajama bottoms. He chuckled at how small she looked in the top. “Miss me that much that you’re wearing my clothes?”

She pouted. “I thought I looked good in it. Besides, it’s what’s underneath that you want.” She lifted the hem a few inches until a strip of rich cocoa skin showed in the lamplight. “You gonna shower and get in here, or do I have to take care of things on my own?” Desire burned in her eyes.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the musky tang of aroused woman, hot and awake. Fire filled his mouth, and his eyes and swirled around his body until he was filled with it. The dragon was awake and ready to claim his mate. “Taunting the dragon, love? Naughty minx.”

“Come get some if you’re bad enough, brimstone scales.” She giggled as she whipped off the top to expose her breasts fully—heavy mounds with her dark brown nipples thick and puckered.

He growled, ripped off his shirt, undid his belt, opened his fly, and then shoved down his jeans. His cock rose up, standing tall and thick. He wasn’t so far gone that he needed inside her now. What he wanted was to take his time and reacquaint himself with her body, to explore every dip, curve, and hollow of her. He licked his lips and moved forward as his need grew.

She held up a single finger. “Nuh-uh. You smell like wet werewolf. Shower and then come back to me.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “One reason.” He could smell the wet werewolf on him, and he could taste the sourness of her lie on his tongue. Nor could he ignore her tight nipples or the increased perfume of her desire on the air.

She mimicked his stance, pushing her full breasts up in the process. “Fine. I want to get ready for you.”

“Ready?”

“Toys.”

He studied her face; mischief and desire sparkled in her eyes. “Toys.” His gaze drifted from her to the wardrobe near the window. “I’ll shower, but if you’re not ready for me, too bad.”

She grinned and got up on her knees, held open her arms, and beckoned him forward. He moved toward her and let her envelop him in one of her comforting hugs. The press of her nipples against his bare chest almost snapped his control. A growl formed in the base of his throat. He wanted to bend down and lap, suck, and tug on them until they were diamond hard and she was close to coming. With a deep breath, he pulled out of her embrace and headed toward the bathroom. “Ten minutes.”

“Fifteen,” she called back. Her voice quivered a bit.

He looked over his shoulder, but she was smiling at him. Damn, I must be imagining things.

“Ten.” He didn’t want to waste time fucking around. “It’s been two months. I need to be in your sweet pussy ASAP.”

“Not my fault the job took too long.”

“Spanking.”

She gave him a raspberry.

“Tied to my headboard with a vibrating anal plug up your ass.”

“Bastard.”

“And a vibrator in your pussy before I fuck you.”

“Hate you.”

“Tough.”

He entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He grinned as satisfaction thrummed through him. “Goddamn, I’ve missed her.”

For all Carrie complained, he doubted any of her reservations were real. She just wanted to act like a brat, and he loved her for it. As he turned on the water, he thought back to the last two months he’d missed while hunting a rogue werewolf. He’d missed New Year’s and Valentine’s Day. He’d called and sent gifts, but it wasn’t the same as being with her, holding her, making love to her. No amount of phone sex, video chatting, or sexting would fill in the void left by a primed, slick pussy and his woman’s wild cries. Just the thought of the feel of her curves and softness writhing against his hard body made his cock jerk and his balls throb in need.

Once the steam floated in the air, he stepped into the shower, directly under the deluge of hot water from the rain showerhead. With a hiss he tilted his head back and just stood there, absorbing the heat. Some of his tension melted away. His dragon stirred; its golden eyes blinked. Claim, it whispered in his head. The large, graveled voice reverberated inside him, vibrating his bones and muscles until his skin fairly fluttered from the sound. He groaned as the pain spiked and then subsided. The scales rippled over his skin as the beast tried to rise.

With a great mental push he shoved it back. Not yet, he responded. Time.

The dragon blew out a single line of fire that wound around Dean like thread, burning his skin in thin strips. He looked down and cursed as the marks showed through his tanned skin. For fuck’s sake, stop. The wounds faded until nothing was left. His arousal increased, his cock twitched, and he was hard-pressed not to reach down, take himself in hand, and jerk off to ease some of the edge. Instead, he grabbed the soap, lathered the bar between his hands, and began to clean up. Sensation burst in small sparks as his roughened palms moved over his skin in harsh, quick circles. His cock pulsed for release. He swore. He was on the verge of coming without one swipe to his cock. Gritting his teeth, he tried to ignore the throb of his balls. As he washed, he managed to get through it without climaxing, but his cock was now standing at attention. He finished and then turned off the water. He dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist.

Each step he took caused the towel rub over his sensitive cock. Beads of precum formed at the slit of his penis. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“Problem?” Carrie asked from the bed. She lay on top of the covers, legs spread, arms over her head with one wrist already shackled to the headboard with Velcro cuffs, the still other free. While he’d been in the shower, she’d been a busy woman: toys lined his side of the bed, the lamp was off, and she’d lit candles to bathe the room in a soft, golden glow.

His dragon growled in appreciation. Warmth lit his heart as he took in her efforts. “Dragon wants to fuck.” He smiled, and a predatory rush of satisfaction welled up within him as he watched her eyes widen. Pain burst along the top of his gums. He could feel his canines lengthen and sharpen. The heat dimmed as it melded into the fire pumping through his body. His body was primed for mating. Dragon wanted to give Carrie another claiming bite to match the one he’d given her before he’d left.

“Then get over here.” She crooked her index finger at him and shifted her hips.

Man and beast growled, a low, rough sound that bounced around the walls and echoed back to him. Her hips rocked, and she moaned. Carrie arched her back. “Come get me, lover.”

With no other encouragement necessary, he dropped the towel and crawled onto the bed. His cock thudded against his belly with each move. Sparks of arousal burst in his stomach as he got close to her pussy. In the candlelight he could see her dewy labia. He licked his lips as a rumble of satisfaction rolled through him. “Beautiful.”

“Stop staring and eat me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He lowered his body, slipped his arms under her legs, lifted her hips, and buried his head between her legs. He lapped up her feminine honey, nibbling and sucking her plump nether lips before parting her folds with his thumbs and focusing on her clit. He teased and tormented her body for more pleasure. His reward were her cries as she tried to ride his mouth. He sucked on her clit and drove her close to climax. When her body tensed, he stopped. Her scream of outrage drew a chuckle from him. He blew out a stream of air over the hardened nub.

He slipped out from under her and grabbed one of the toys. “Needy?”

“Fuck me,” she growled.

“Not yet,” he threw back even though he was hanging on by his fingernails. The dragon huffed within him, demanding completion with its mate. He could feel the subtle glide when the dragon’s scales rippled over his skin to replace soft, pliable flesh.

“Dean,” she rasped. “Please.”

The dragon was too close to the surface for him not to consider using the toys later, once things had calmed down. “Change of plans.”

He tormented them both by sliding over her body, allowing her nipples to scrape his chest as he reached over her and pulled on the Velcro strap until her wrist came free. She sat up and brushed some hair out of her face.

He lowered his head and took her lips, teasing them with quick flicks of his tongue before prying her mouth open and dipping his tongue in to tease and twine with hers. She groaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. One of her hands petted the nape before she sank her fingers in his hair. Her fingernails scraped his scalp, setting off sparks. He sucked on her bottom lip. His longer canines raked over the sensitive skin.

Her hips undulated against his teasing his cock with slow rubs and grinds. Need pulsed in his blood as his cock jerked and thickened to bursting. He was pushed closer to the edge when she sucked on his tongue, returning his earlier favor.

With a grunt, he pulled away from her kiss, rolled off her, and settled himself in a sitting position against the pillows. He grasped her hips and guided her onto his lap. She threw one leg over his legs and stayed on her knees, her breasts in front of his mouth.

“Suck them.” Her voice was low and ragged.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean ducked his head and took one pearled tip into his mouth, flicking and circling the bud with his tongue. Despite the bite of fire in his body, demanding he sink balls-deep into her slick channel, he focused his attention on his task. He suckled and scraped his teeth over the sensitive tip before transferring his attention to the other breast. From there he kissed his way down her torso, then back up between her cleavage.

“I’ve missed you, minx,” he murmured against her neck.

She shivered under him. He ran his hands up and down her back, absorbing the feel of her damp, silken skin. It felt like forever since he’d touched her, kissed her. She took his lips in a slow, hungry kiss that blew his mind. His thoughts scattered as she sucked on his tongue once more with shallow pulls before taking it farther into her mouth. His dick jerked as more droplets of precum slipped over the cap and down the side. She reached between them and took hold of his cock. He moaned and thrust his hips upward. Electric sparks burst in his blood as the fire swirled within, hotter, molten.

He pulled his head away with moan. “Amore, please.”

She squeezed him just under his cockhead before her hand glided down and then back up from root to tip. She coaxed him closer to orgasm. He groaned as his hips shook. He didn’t want to come like this. She lowered until the crown of his cock kissed her damp slit. She rubbed herself against him, the flared mushroom head dragged along her slick lips before she teased him by placing him at her dripping entrance.

“Want it?” Her skin glittered with golden fairy light.

“Yes.” He hissed the word as she slipped him inside her.

He let out a soft groan as her vaginal muscles clenched around the tip of his dick before she lowered herself farther, taking more of him inside her. She placed a hand on his shoulder and continued to torture them both. Her nails dug deep as she squeezed her inner muscles. Slowly she rode him, dragging out each movement of her body. Carrie brought her head down until their mouths were mere millimeters apart. Her breath caressed his overheated, throbbing lips. She closed the distance between then and took his mouth as she took him inside her completely. The sensitive tissue rippled around his cock, stimulating his nerve endings. His groan was swallowed by her mouth as she continued to kiss him. She became his air, his life force, his source of pleasure and pain.

Carrie rode him with slow strokes. He reached down and gripped her hips, trying to guide her actions. She bit his lip, tugged, and released. He hissed at her, and smoke billowed up between them. Her eyes filled with white dots, like stars in the dark sky. “Mine,” she growled as her pace ticked up.

Their kiss turned into a battle for control.

“Mine,” he answered.

He thrust upward to meet her downstroke. She rode him harder; her nipples rasped his chest, setting off sparkles of pleasure that shot straight to his cock. He pounded into her pussy. He disengaged one hand from her hip and slipped it between them to work her clit.

“Dean!” With a cry she pulled away. Her pussy contracted around him as her limbs stiffened. He fucked her through her climax until his balls hardened and the semen rose up along his cock. His cock thickened and jerked as he came, spurting his seed deep inside her.

He placed kisses all over her face and wiped away the tears that had slipped from her eyes. “So beautiful, my mate, my love. Amore mio.”

“Welcome home.” A soft, sleepy smile on her face.

He rested his head on her shoulder. “Good to be home.”

Chapter Two

Two Days Until Easter

Carrie cradled the coffee mug as she watched Dean move around the room, making a breakfast of hash browns, bacon, and toast. Despite her elation at having him home, safe and sound, she couldn’t push away the feelings of guilt and disappointment in herself and in Dean. She’d tried to stay up and wait for him so they could talk. Not even three shots of espresso and a large dollop of whipped cream with her latte could keep her awake. Then she heard and smelled him, and her brain took a vacation and her body just went on autopilot. All she knew was her mate was home safe and sound, and she needed to be with him in the most primal way possible. Tears formed in her eyes as she tightened her grip on the ceramic cup. Damn it, how the hell am I supposed to bring up my issues after we’ve had sex? She watched him move around the kitchen as if he hadn’t spent the last two months icing her out.

As mad as she’d been at him, the moment he was home, all her cares had fallen away in the need to be with him, to see that he was real. The job had been a dangerous one. A rogue werewolf wasn’t a sweet puppy. It was a mindless beast with no pack to keep it in check. Dean had gone after it with very little backup. Every day she didn’t hear from him had been torture. Any phone call or e-mail she did get gave only scarce details, which increased her anxiety. When Dean walked through that door, all she’d been able to think was he was home and safe. Sex had been a way to not only reconnect with him on a physical level but check in to see if there had been any damage. As far as she’d seen, only bruises and cuts, nothing unusual. Thank the Goddess.

Now that that was taken care of, she was back at square one with him. She didn’t even have the solace of cooking to keep her mind busy and to work out her current problems.

She had to find a way to talk about their issues. The need to voice her thoughts clogged her throat. She needed to get it out before she choked up and tamped it down in favor of keeping what they had. Just do it, she ordered herself.

Carrie cleared her throat and focused on the worry and pain of waiting two months for him to come home, the loneliness and the hurt of his terse phone calls giving her the most basic of updates.

“What’s up, amore mio? I can smell your tension and discomfort. What’s wrong?” He turned around to look at her, gaze guarded, features emotionless, careful.

Relief swept through her at him broaching the subject rather than her having to. “We need to discuss this trip and our newly mated status.”

“Go on.” His tone was neutral.

“You were very distant with me while on this job. In fact, this isn’t the first time you’ve done this to me. I may be your office manager and contact for home base, but I’m also your mate.” She let that statement hang in the air between them, waiting for him to react. The atmosphere turned heavy. The silence stretched out like a rubber band, only to be disturbed by the pop and sizzle of bacon or soft padding of his bare feet on the bamboo flooring. As the quiet continued, she watched him turn and move from stove to counter to sink and back again. She savored the sight of his muscles moving under all that velvety, tanned skin. Even in winter he looked as if he sunbathed daily. The dragon tattoo on his back stretched from his right wrist; the tail wrapped around most of his arm to claw its way across his shoulders spewing fire down his left arm. The black and gray scales shimmered in the midmorning sunlight. Almost as if the beast were alive and ready to fly off his skin and settle down in miniature before her. The golden eyes seemed to glimmer, winking at her. She had yet to see him fully shift but had witnessed him as half man/half dragon.

She shook her head and refocused on why she was here, or rather why she was trying to keep her distance despite her fingertips tingling with the need to touch all that exposed flesh. She opened her mouth to push ahead, had to get the words out so they could be done with this conversation and she could go to her room, think, and maybe do some job searching. Mate or not, she couldn’t stay here with him acting warm and welcoming one minute and then cold and aloof on the job the next.

“Hungry?” He turned around and held up a plate.

Her stomach answered his question.

His soft, smoky laugh danced up and down her spine, setting off goose bumps.

“You still you haven’t answered me. Are you even going to acknowledge my issues?” Carrie demanded. As much as she wanted food, she wanted him to open up to her more.

She couldn’t want him and be pissed at him and have this conversation. To focus she took a sip of coffee and squeezed her thighs tight as her clit hardened and her pussy filled with liquid need.

“That eager for an answer?”

“Yes.” Her nipples stiffened as her stomach fluttered. She cursed her body for not getting with the program. Not aroused, stupid. Angry. She thought back to the terse conversation in which he’d ordered her to be in his bed when he got home. A spark of irritation lit up in her tummy. She latched on to the sentiment and fanned the flames with other instances of his distance.

She gritted her teeth. “Answer me, damn it!”

A dark chuckle rolled around. Her slit became damp and ready for another round. Even if she was sore from his lovemaking last night, she wanted to feel him inside her again, sliding to the hilt and building the fire slow and deep. She shook her head, loosening those thoughts and breathing more anger into the flame. Carrie wasn’t sure what was so damn funny, but she couldn’t let him get away with this. “What the hell, dragon? Are you using your powers to distract me?” Acid churned in her stomach.

“Problem?” The rich, wicked tenor of his voice felt like fingers tracing along her spine to delve between her pussy lips. She squirmed on her stool and clenched her jaw and held the mug tighter at his dirty tricks.

“No. Now answer me,” she managed to get out through clenched teeth. She shoved back at the arousal he was trying to instigate.

“You sure?” He purred.

He seemed closer than just a few feet away. She jumped and looked around. Nope; he hadn’t used his paranormal abilities to move to her side. “Stop using projection. Show me some respect and look at me. Or do you not consider me an equal at all?”

He turned; the glint in his eye told her everything she needed to know. Despite the fire in his gaze, his features were firm; his emotions were clamped down. Disappointment filled her.

“Playing dirty, dragon? Do you really need those tricks to distract me?” It saddened her that he couldn’t even give her the respect she deserved. Her heart hurt at the thought that he didn’t think of her as an equal.

“Maybe.” He plated a dish of bacon, hash browns, and toast and served it to her. He poured more coffee into her large mug and gave her a glass of orange juice.

“Why?” She focused on the food and not him. If she looked up at him, she might throw something, and she was tempted to use her mug for that. Rather than waste perfectly good coffee, she ate.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk about it.” His tone was neutral once again. No amusement, no hint of arousal.

She hated that dragons could just turn off their emotions so easily. “Damn you. Could you just show me a modicum of feeling? Anything?”

“Why is it so important to you?”

“Because it is.” Flashes of memory burst in her mind like the blinking light on a camera timer. She could see the sadness on her parents’ faces as they stood before an empty lot of forest. Her heart ached; her eyes burned with unshed tears. She blinked them away before they could fall and focused on her bacon.

“I can’t tell you anything if you don’t share with me.” His tone was light but weighted with something akin to annoyance.

He was irritated with her? Hell no! She pushed away the plate and lifted her gaze to his face.

“It’s important to me because I’m your mate. We’re mated. I’m not a mind reader. How can I help you while you’re on the job when I don’t know what’s going on with you? I want you to be open with me even on the job. Two months of distance made me feel like I’m talking to a stranger.” She waited for him to explode, to growl or snap or agree with her.

He didn’t do anything like that.

“Eat.” The words seemed to take a different context combined with his seductive tone. She didn’t doubt he’d done it on purpose.

She stifled a scream of frustration. “For fuck’s sake, are you going to say something? Do you even take me seriously?”

“Of course I do, amore mio. I’m here now with you. When I’m on the job, I’m the job. When I’m here with you, I’m your mate. That’s how I feel.” He put together a plate of food.

“Oh, of course you pull out that line. Damn dragons,” she muttered as tears welled in her eyes. Frustration and anger doused any arousal he had incited. “You know what, forget it. Just go. Clearly my feelings aren’t important to you.”

“Amore—”

“Don’t call me that. Do you even know what love means? Go, Dean, just…” She couldn’t even look at him, couldn’t finish that sentence. Any thought of making him understand how she felt or why she was so frustrated with him went out the window. How could she explain needing a connection with the person she loved when he shut her out at every turn?

Dean didn’t contest or even try to put up a fight. He left the room, confusion on his face.

Tears streaked down her face unchecked. Carrie sniffled and wiped them away. Her heart hurt as her head began to throb. As much as she hated to think it, it seemed like she would have to start looking for a new job. Mate or not, she had to leave. She doubted that Dean could convince her to stay, not when he blocked off his emotions so much. Was a dragon even capable of feeling something beyond sexual desire? Was he, the man, able to connect on an emotional level with anyone?

* * * *

Dean sat at his computer station in the office he shared with Carrie. The other guest rooms/offices for the hunters they took in were empty, and the house had no guests crashing in their guest rooms. He could feel the remnants of her desire for another round swirling in his gut along with the sour taste of disappointment. Pain pulsed in his chest like an open wound. He couldn’t understand why she wanted to know about his need for distance when on a job. Nor did he want to open up the past just to satisfy her. They might be mates, but there were some things he couldn’t share with her. Didn’t know how to even begin to talk about what had happened to him. His dragon rolled around his head as old memories tried to surface. Thinking about Dalton wouldn’t bring him back.

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. As he tried to push past the rising cloud of the past, he felt the heaviness of Carrie’s emotions swirling in his chest. Her sadness weighed down his body and his heart like a piece of granite. Her needs, her desires, her feelings filled his head until they merged with his, but none of that could tell him why it was so important to her that he explain himself. None of her emotions showed him a direction to go in. The most prominent emotion that he felt was loneliness. It settled on his skin like a coat of dust. The sensation caused his flesh to itch and crawl. His dragon growled. His scales rose up and rippled to push away the feeling that wasn’t theirs.

Rather than shift and distance himself from her presence in his soul completely, he closed his eyes and tried to find himself. It was the only way he could work through this and figure out how to please his mate. Or distract her until he could understand how what he felt on a job was important. He focused the stillness that was his dragon. Nothing could touch them. After so many years of being alone, of not trusting people, of being unable to let anyone get too close after Dalton, he had finally found his mate. But she clouded his thinking when he was away from her. He worried if she was eating properly, if she was safe, if she’d remembered to turn on the alarm or lock the doors. She wasn’t a forgetful woman, but he wanted her secure. He found his protected place, that ice citadel that kept everything out. He entered the cold terrain that not even dragon’s fire could breach. Once the stillness settled over his shoulders, he could think, but underneath all the ice, he could feel the pulse of her pain.

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out. I’ll make that hurt go away. Just have to get you calm first. He knew the perfect way to distract her from her personal discomfort. They needed to reconnect on more than just a physical level before dealing with the emotional quagmire that seemed to be brewing within her.

He opened up his e-mail and began to click through, clearing spam before he clicked on his inbox. He glanced over job offers and new hunting tips from friends. He clicked on a subject line from his friend and fellow bounty hunter, Jesse, whom he’d seen on his hunt for the rogue werewolf.

“I remember you saying you wanted something special for Carrie for Easter. Got this site from a friend of a friend who used it. Highly recommended. Sundae’s Adult Easter Baskets. Have fun if you know what I mean. Lucky bastard.

Look me up the next time you’re in Detroit. Will hook you up with some new flamethrowers that I’m working on.”

The link was embedded in the name of the business. He clicked on it and was brought to a simple site with a few questions. He took each one into account and answered to the best of his knowledge. He only hoped that whatever they got would help them. This was a start. Dean wanted to show Carrie in some way he was on her side. He might not be able to go into all the shit that he kept inside, but pleasing her in bed…that he understood and knew.

Once he was finished with his order, he filled in his delivery details, then paid. Determination filled him. He was going to keep her here and bind her to him. He had already given her the mating bite of his kind. She wanted something more. Something she hadn’t told him. He’d play dirty to get her to open up to him. Then maybe they would make some progress.

He logged out of his e-mail and shut down the computer. There were other things he had to get done for her too. He had hidden the chocolates he’d picked up for her in Georgia and the necklace he’d gotten from a jeweler in New York. The only thing left for him to do was get flowers. He grabbed his coat and checked in on her. Through their connection he could feel bits of her pain. Hopefully what he had planned would dull some of that so he could talk to her, figure out a way to explain why he couldn’t let down his guard with her while on a job.

He found her in the kitchen, prepping a chicken for cooking. The windows were fogged from the pot she had boiling on the stove and from the heat of the oven. Her hair was in a loose topknot, but curling tendrils framed her face.

She didn’t even turn toward him. “Hungry?”

That single world held no meaning, no intonation. It was just a question, automatically asked with no hope of an answer that mattered.

“Nope, just checking in on you. Want help? I was going to go out but—”

She cut him off. “No.” She wiped some sweat off her brow but didn’t look at him.

“Okay.” He walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “Later.”

She hadn’t even lifted her cheek to him or looked at him. Now who’s being frosted out? his dragon asked. Dean ignored the creature.

“Dinner is at seven,” she called after him.

“Okay, amore mio.” He left the house. A yawning emptiness filled him. The part of him that had made a place for her felt dark and vacant. She was pulling away from him. Some of the webbing that kept them together was frayed to the breaking point. He refused to let that go, let what they had just break or snap apart. He’d finally found someone after Dalton that he cared about. Anger flared hot and painful in his heart; he wasn’t going to leave her without a fight. He didn’t want to be driving right now. Instead, he decided to walk. Space and an hour away would give him time to think. His plan had holes in it if she didn’t want to go through with it.

His footsteps ate up the distance as his mind tried to focus on the here and now. How to keep her close, rebind her to him. We are mates, damn it. His teeth clenched at the thought. It shouldn’t be like this and yet it was. How could keeping distance on missions and jobs tear them apart? How could keeping his emotions separate tear her away from him? Was this normal? He didn’t know. There was no one like him to ask. There were several different types of dragons. Unfortunately most dragons avoided him like the plague because of his black dragon identity. His kind was thought to bring chaos, bad luck, and terror, not peace. No one wanted that kind of karma in their lives. The older ones didn’t really care, but that didn’t mean they would give him the time of day.

He took in the flowering bushes, the spring-green leaves on the trees, the bright sunshine, and the scent of fresh-cut grass and a light hint of flowers. He shoved his hands in his pockets and enjoyed the feel of his muscles working and the calmness of the day. This was a lovely change of pace from hunting down a wet dog in dank forests and damp grasslands in cold temperatures.

As he took in his surroundings, he let his mind tumble over the problem at hand. He had to reconnect with Carrie, get her to stay somehow. Losing her would be like losing part of himself, half of his soul. Just leaving the house made him feel prickly and antsy to get back to her. The last two months had been hell. Talking to her over the phone had helped but not by much. He had hoped returning home would reestablish their bond. He was wrong. There had been more old wounds between them, most of which he didn’t understand. How could he get her to open up when he couldn’t even do the same? Quagmire indeed.

Main Street came into view, and he slowed down to read the signs. The florist was the first shop he saw. He entered the store and began to stroll through the aisles, taking in which flowers they had on sale. Not seeing what he wanted, he went to the counter. “Good morning. Do you have any red tulips in stock?”

He hoped so. Those were her favorite flowers. And maybe they’d give him an opening with her.

“Of course. How many do you want?” the florist asked.

“A dozen, please.” He leaned a hip against the counter and took in the store. It was a quaint little shop he’d never been in before. In fact, he’d never explored the town they lived in. He wasn’t around long enough to get to know the locals. At least they hadn’t come at Carrie and him with pitchforks and torches for taking up residence in their little slice of heaven. Hunters were considered bad news since they brought a lot of issues with them. But this paranormal slice of heaven didn’t seem to care, even though they understood what he and Carrie did. So far it had been smooth sailing for them. Carrie would tell him if there were issues; that much he knew. At least he hoped she would tell him if there was trouble. He looked over at the florist to watch what he was doing. Fuck, now I’m doubting her. Anger flared up again at himself and this fraying bond. I’m shit out of luck here.

“You okay?” the clerk asked as he wrapped up Dean’s flowers and tied them with a wide white ribbon.

Dean gritted his teeth. No way was he going to talk out his troubles with a stranger. “Fine,” he got out.

“Hey, hey. Not trying to start anything here. Just making conversation, and you seem a little…tense. Let’s try this again. You’re new here, aren’t you? Haven’t seen you around town.” The florist gave him a wide smile that lit up his eyes.

Dean took a cleansing breath and tried to let go of some of his anger. “Yep. Lived here for over three years, but I’m mostly out of town. My girlfriend holds down the fort for me.” There, neutral answer. Dean continued to peruse his surroundings. The frustration with Carrie was left off.

For the first time he detected the light scent of gnome musk on the air. Dean shot a glance at the clerk. The clerk looked like a regular human, but there was just a hint of earth magic that all gnomes carried. Dean turned on his dragon senses and looked at the clerk with new eyes. A faint grass-green glow clung to the young man. Dean would guess the guy was between twenty-one and twenty-five. Huh. I really don’t know my town. Maybe that’s why bad shit hasn’t followed me back home. Too many earth magic wielders. Too many earth magic users in one place created a kind of barrier to keep out any negative energy, which was a good thing. It would do more than keep Carrie safe. Hell, they could probably leave their doors unlocked. Okay, maybe not, but it was a thought. Dean allowed himself to smile. He really did have to check this place out more closely. After he fixed things with Carrie. Maybe a date night once they settled their emotional divide.

The clerk handed him his tulips. Dean paid. “Thanks. I have to come back here again.”

The clerk beamed at him. “You’re welcome, and have a wonderful day.”

“You too.” Dean left the shop in an even better mood but couldn’t forget why he was here in the first place. As he walked down Main Street, he spotted more and more earth magic wielders and a few werewolves. He passed by a bar called the Dirty Dragon’s Eye and smirked. For a moment he thought of going in but didn’t. There was no time for a drink or to see if there were any dragons around the place. Another reason bad shit hadn’t followed him into town. Dragons equaled crispy barbecue. Unless a person had a death wish.

As he progressed, he spotted a nice Italian restaurant that would be a perfect date place for him and Carrie. A few big-name coffee shops had managed to take root and some popular pizza joints, as well as mom-and-pop stores that he wanted to try. Dragon magic drifted on the air. His own beast strained at its tether to seek out its own kind. Maybe they could explain the mating process to him or at least guide him, but after he spoke to her and found out whatever was bothering her. Talking to his mate came first and then seeking guidance from his kind, if they gave him the time of day, would come second.

He did have to admit that Carrie had really picked a winner by having them set up shop in Citlali. She had been the one to pick the town they lived in. Excellent taste as usual. He slipped his cell phone from his jacket pocket and hit speed dial. He needed to thank her.

“Hey,” Carrie answered on the first ring.

“Hey, yourself. I’m walking around our lovely town, and I have to say you picked a helluva place for us to live. I love it. You and me need to make a date in town sometime.” He bobbed his head at an elderly dragon couple who passed and smiled at him. To see his own kind out and about, not hiding, sent a thrill through him; too many times dragons hid away from the world. His heart flipped. This was obviously a safe haven for them. Something they’d lacked in the past. He wanted to reward Carrie for finding this nugget of paradise.

“A date?” Skepticism dripped from her tone. He winced. Was he so bad that she couldn’t even believe they could have a date?

“How ’bout it be a surprise, minx?” he threw out, hoping she’d grab the line.

She gave him a low, throaty chuckle that made his balls tighten and his cock thicken and lengthen. “Go on.”

The hesitancy in her voice pulled at his heartstrings. “I pick the place, some little bistro you’ve never been at, and we eat, and you give me a chance.” He prayed that she’d bite.

She fell silent. Time stopped as he waited for her to say something.

“I’ll think about it. Are you on your way home?” A wariness remained in her tone, but there was a bit of hope in there too.

“Yep. Just crossing the street to see what the other side has to offer, and I will head back. I’ll see you soon. Love you, minx.”

“Okay.” She hung up without saying good-bye.

Fuck, I’m screwed if she can’t even say she loves me.

He dashed across the street while there was a break in traffic. The sun was shining high in the sky, and fluffy blue clouds meandered on by. A perfect day to have a picnic even if there was a chill in the air. Maybe later on in the week, after we’ve talked it out, he thought. What he would say, he didn’t know. The distance between them was growing too fast for him to catch up, and he didn’t know how to get her to hear him and his words. He did love her; he just didn’t know how to let her in.

Frustration rose again. His dragon roared. He didn’t want to cut himself up just to make her happy. That wasn’t who he was. It wasn’t what hunters were capable of. Hunters couldn’t kill what they cared about, what they thought of as human or having a soul. Emotions had consequences; they could get you killed. Only being a stone-cold bastard could allow you to live. How could he love her so much and yet keep her out of his problems, his issues, his hunter life? He didn’t want to lose her. Fire swirled around his body in cutting ribbons that seared him to the bone. He wanted to punch something, kick the shit out of this problem, and beat it until it submitted to him, but he couldn’t. There was no one to hurt. To distract himself he focused on his surroundings once more.

On this side of the street there were bookstores, cafes, a few tech places, a car rental, a travel agent, and another bar, this one called the Gnome’s Mushroom. Dean snorted. Gnomes were cheeky bastards, that was for sure. He shook his head at their audacity and saw a bakery up ahead declaring a sale on brownies. Perfect for a peace offering. He went in. All the tables were taken, and the glass counters were almost empty. He strode up to the front. This time a pixie with bright purple-and-blue striped hair greeted him.

“Good afternoon. Welcome to the Pixie’s Cupcake Kitchen. My name is Bessie. How may I help you?” She gave him a bright smile that lifted his spirits from happy to ridiculously high with hope and faith in mankind.

“Uh, hi, Bessie. I saw the sign for a sale on brownies.” He glanced at the near-empty display cases. “Um, I want to bring home some of your brownies for my girlfriend. Please tell me you have a few left.” He hoped her magic would calm down. Nope, she seemed to sparkle now, like a human-shaped disco ball. Great. He tried to refocus on Carrie and not breaking out his sunglasses. This was for her. Maybe this would get her to listen to him. Maybe fix part of the problem. He doubted it but needed to do something.

Bessie beamed at him. “Of course we do, silly! How many do you want and what kind?” She picked up a menu and handed it to him. “All of our brownies are decorated for the holiday. So they’re extra cute and festive.”

Dean was sure he’d get a sugar high if he continued talking to Bessie, if that was her real name. He doubted pixies gave their children such mundane monikers. He wasn’t going to question it, just get the brownies and go, vowing never to set foot in there again unless promised several blowjobs and a trillion bucks and his own island. He perused the menu. “Just a mixer of your most popular flavors, please, and can you gift wrap the box?”

His teeth were starting to throb. At least gnomes were more subtle with their magic and attitude. This type of magic was numbing his pain and distance from Carrie.

“Of course! All of our boxes are gift wrapped to make them that much more extra special.”

He swore that he saw pink sparks when she blinked and smiled at him. Feeling uneasy, he turned away and took in the clientele. They all seemed happy enough, but not overly so. At least they aren’t spiking their baked goods. He saw more werewolves, some mountain lion shifters, a few more gnomes, and another dragon couple, younger this time.

“Here you go. That will be ten dollars and twenty cents, please.” Bessie said from behind him.

He turned, paid, thanked her, and left like the hounds of hell were on his ass. Once he was out in the fresh air, he felt much better, less like he’d inhaled a dozen flavored powdered-sugar sticks. He headed home rather than explore anymore. Besides, he needed to go confront his fears. By the time he arrived home, his legs ached from all the walking he’d done. He entered their home and hung up his jacket and brought the tulips into the kitchen.

“Hey, beautiful. Got these for you for Easter.” He gave her the flowers. There was no way he was going to risk them wilting overnight, gnome grown or not.

She glanced at the offering, her emotions inscrutable. “Thank you.” She accepted the floral arrangement and left him without giving him a kiss or an indication that she was melting a bit. He went after her. She was in the kitchen putting the tulips in a vase.

Let’s try door number two. “Can’t forget this for dessert.” He gave her the box of brownies. “Have you ever been in that pixie’s bakery place?”

Carrie accepted the box and put it on the counter. “Yes.”

“It was a bit much. Okay, a lot much.”

“Well, they are pixies. Dinner is almost ready. Go wash up.” She moved to the stove and started to stir something in a pot.

The tether on his anger snapped. “Damn it, Carrie—”

“Unless you can explain why you’re so distant to me while on jobs, why you wall a part of yourself off, don’t finish that sentence.” Embers of anger fell to the ground around her like cast-offs from a sparkler. For the first time since Dean had known her, she’d displayed some of her fairy abilities.

He opened his mouth to snap back, to hurt her, to say something that would make her go on the defensive. She was tearing him apart and trying to dredge up memories he didn’t want resurfacing. Pain lashed through his heart. Why did she want this sacrifice from him? Why was it so damn important to her? Would it help her gain her powers, or was this proof of his love and devotion? He didn’t want to have this part of him yanked out or some sort of ultimatum to be forced from his soul so she could feel she truly had all of him. He wasn’t some damn performing monkey.

“Why the fuck is it so important for you to have this? Why do you need it? You going to leave me if I don’t tell you?” He knew the answer. Could feel her trying to separate them, snipping their connections and isolating herself from his mental reach and awareness. “I’m telling you now, Carrie. I don’t do ultimatums. Let me offer up parts of myself freely, not as pawns in some emotional chess match that I don’t know the rules to. That would be the decent thing to do.”

Rather than listen to her response or the way she was ignoring him, he turned on his heel and stalked upstairs. She could eat this dinner alone since she was so determined to make that his permanent scenario. When she called for dinner, he didn’t go down. He stayed in his room with his laptop. The door was unlocked, but she didn’t come upstairs. Tears burned in his eyes as he felt the cinders of their relationship break off and fall to the ground. She could have her standards all she wanted, but it was a two-way street, and he wasn’t the only one to be offering up parts of his past to be examined under the spotlight she’d tried to erect.

Chapter Three

Day Before Easter Day

Carrie woke up early. She lay in bed, letting the golden light of early morning stream through the windows and over her bed. She hadn’t gone to see Dean last night, hadn’t tried to talk to him. His words rang through her head like a bell. Had she been pushing too hard? Clinging too much? Demanding he turn over something he wasn’t willing to give? The pain in his voice had lanced her heart, breaking it more than his words ever could. Dean got defensive when he felt pushed and contorted by others. He fought back with vitriol and fire. Whenever hunters crashed at their place, she’d been able to observe their behavior. It was an unusual setup they had here—hunters able to come together, have a place of safety and a home base to call their own so long as they followed the rules. Dean owned the building, but he let the hunters crash there rent free. In return, they paid her to act as their go-between if people needed to check their credentials.

Dean normally kept to himself. In the beginning, she and Dean had been just boss and employee. As their relationship evolved, he’d been the one to seek out her companionship, invite her to eat. They never discussed the job. Not once had he opened up about what he’d seen or had to do. Whenever they had hunters in the house, she would hear cries, screams, and moans of anguish and pain, as well as pacing. Doctors would come in if the hunters had injuries. Dean never shouted or yelled in his sleep. He’d moan or roll around; that was it, no attacks or screams. And if he couldn’t sleep, he’d pace. There were times when he’d shut himself up in his room for days, only coming out to eat. She’d never asked what had happened to him. Didn’t want to intrude.

Now, though, they were mates; he’d claimed her. Bonds had formed between them hat she’d tried to separate, snip, and tear at to give herself some space to breathe. The scars had only come back, scabbed over, and continued to bind them together. In the silence of the early morning, she searched her soul for the part that had tethered itself to him. A vague, pulsing beat there in the darkness, along with a hot button of anger and pain and indiscernible torment that she’d never searched out before. It had always been there, and in the back of her mind, she’d noticed it but hadn’t wanted to find out what it was, what it meant. She felt he should explain it. Right now it was a hardened bundle of emotions all tied together.

She winced at the hurt. Maybe I need to approach this differently? Try a new tack? She didn’t know how to get him to open up without him shutting down and icing her out. Rather than lie in bed all day, she decided some cooking was in order. Making something from scratch always helped her clear her head and calm down. She pushed back the covers, got up, and headed for the shower. Today had to be better.

She turned on the water and undressed. As she waited for the water to heat up, she thought over the last two days. They had been a mess of emotions and missteps. Frustration filled her. How to talk to him without making him feel like he was backed into a corner—that was the question.

Steam fogged the mirrors and shower glass. She opened the door, stepped inside the cubicle, and shut the door behind her. As the water poured down on her, she sighed and closed her eyes. She let her mind tumble all the possible ways she could confront Dean: directly, sit him down and tell him about her family, or maybe just avoid it altogether and try to get back to the way it used to be. She ignored the last option. That would only make things worse. Her anger would only grow, as would her resentment of him keeping things from her.

She had thought leaving would be better for all involved, but how could she walk away from someone she loved, her mate? She wasn’t sure how her parents and other people had done it to her, but she couldn’t do that to Dean. Even if her first instinct was to protect herself from pain. She knew what it was like to be abandoned. The old wound split open and began to throb all over again. After years of trying to ignore what had happened to her, she couldn’t. Not when it was screwing up her present.

She wasn’t sure how to bring it up to him, but she knew she couldn’t leave him until she’d exhausted all avenues to get through to him and make him see her position. This had to work. It wasn’t just that they were mates or that she loved him, but that he deserved to know she wouldn’t leave him. Hunters weren’t attached to many people. Hunters had loved ones, but those they loved always ended up in the line of fire or the reason the hunters started going after the paranormal. Not all hunters were human; some, like Dean, went after their own kind. What they did was dangerous, and with nothing binding them to living, they could go off and die and be fine with it. When she’d met Dean, he’d been like that. He needed to know that she was here for him and always would be.

She grabbed the soap and a washcloth and scrubbed herself clean; she shampooed and conditioned her hair before turning off the water and stepping out of the stall. She picked up her towel and dried off and wrapped her hair. Carrie decided to make Dean’s favorite lunch of steak, mashed potatoes, and gravy, with a side of a spicy cauliflower-broccoli mix. That could be a start. For dessert, a strawberry cake with vanilla crème filling.

She put on a robe before she dried and straightened her hair, then got dressed in jeans, heels, and a T-shirt. By the time she was done, it was midmorning. She had to do some cooking and check on the e-mails from the hunters. Constant contact was a requirement to make sure that the hunters were all right and that if they needed backup, she could arrange it. Dean didn’t exactly follow that rule. He would only call in or e-mail if and when he had info or needed something. Other than that, radio silence on his end.

She tiptoed to Dean’s room and pressed her ear to the door. No sound penetrated the thick wood. She would’ve opened the door but decided not to. It would be presumptuous of her to think he’d leave it unlocked, not after the words he’d uttered last night. He needed some space and so did she. She was still angry at his words. Confronting him now would only start a new argument.

She headed downstairs to her office and started her computer before she went into the kitchen to get out the steaks, potatoes, broccoli, and cauliflower, as well as the spices and herbs she’d used for flavor. Just having everything out and ready for prep sent a wave of calm through her. Her mind cleared, and she could think.

She started with the steaks and let her thoughts go. For the first time she wished that she could talk to someone about her problem, but to talk to someone about her issues with Dean would be a betrayal of their relationship. Hunters didn’t welcome outside interference, which is what therapists were to them. Besides that, there were very few therapists who handled the paranormal. Dean wouldn’t appreciate their problems being broadcast to people he didn’t know or interact with. But if he was willing after this and there was a person close-by, she’d call in a therapist who dealt with the paranormal.

This was a great time for venting, not so great for her connection with Dean. As she chopped up vegetables, seasoned the steaks, and boiled the potatoes, she could breathe and see her actions through a lens. She had thought about what she was going to say, she allowed her emotions to outweigh his reaction. She knew him, knew how he took bad news. Dean wasn’t a delicate case, but he did need to be approached with a clear, concise plan. Being honest and making sure that her bases were covered for any questions that would come up was a must. He liked to have all the information laid out to him so he could weigh his options. Leave anything out, not tell him the whole story, and he was left to fill in the blanks. She needed a way to tell him her side without getting nervous or flustered or emotional.

The doorbell rang just as she slid the steaks into the fridge. She wiped her hands on a towel and went to answer the door. She glanced at the microwave clock: eleven thirty. “Damn, Donna is early.”

Donna stood there in her navy-blue mailperson uniform and with her ever present bright smile. She held out a tablet and a stylus for Carrie to use. “Morning, Carrie. I have a package for you. You have to sign for it. Gotta say, I’m jealous. I would love to have a basket from them.”

There was a large brown box at Donna’s feet. Carrie knew she hadn’t ordered anything, and as for baskets, she didn’t know what Donna was talking about. One of the hunters must have ordered something.

“Um, okay.” She signed and handed the tablet and stylus back to Donna before she picked up the box and brought it into the house. The package had heft to it, but was light enough that she wouldn’t strain herself too badly.

Donna handed her their mail. It looked to be a lot of sale circulars and bills.

“You have a great day and enjoy the basket.” Envy flitted across Donna’s face along with an impish smile before she turned and walked away.

Curious, Carrie picked up the box again. She looked at the tracking slip. It was addressed to Dean. The return address gave a PO box. What was he up to? He must have ordered it before their fight or before he got back. She couldn’t deny that he’d been trying little things: the brownies, giving her credit for their home here, and this, whatever it was.

She carried the box upstairs and knocked on his door. Nothing. Not even a mumble. She placed the box before the door and headed back downstairs. She finished the lunch prep and went into her office. The screensaver of blooming flowers scrolled across the screen. She shook the mouse and logged in to her account. After paying the bills and checking e-mail, her curiosity prickled, and she wanted to do a search on Sundae’s Easter Baskets. A glance at the clock told her that she needed to haul ass and get lunch done before he woke up or came downstairs. She wasn’t going to let him shut her out. They needed to communicate to make this right again.

* * * *

Dean opened his eyes, woke up, and groaned. He opened first one eye and then the other. Midday light streamed through the windows. His body ached in places he didn’t want to think about. He’d done a lot of yoga asanas before he went to bed, to clean and calm his mind and push away his emotions. His muscles felt drawn, but overall he felt fine. His dragon side had allowed him to sleep like the dead.

He pushed away the covers, sat up, threw his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. He winced as he stretched his arms over his head when the kinks and pings made their presence known. He brought his arms down, and he detected the faint whiff of Carrie’s perfume. She hadn’t entered. Part of him was sad that she hadn’t even tried to come in and talk to him. He shook his head and went to the bathroom for a quick shower. He had fallen into bed once he’d been tired out, not bothering to clean up.

His skin felt itchy, and the musk of sweat hung in the air. He started the shower and went back into his room, where he opened the windows to allow the cool spring air to drift in and clear out the stale atmosphere. For a moment he drew in the sweet floral scent. Today he would try again with Carrie, using a new plan. Brownies hadn’t worked so maybe confronting her directly would. He wasn’t going to let this relationship fall apart. Carrie wasn’t just his mate; she brought a light and safety to his life. He could be around her, and the threat of the outside world fell away. Whenever he went out to wrangle the rogues of the paranormal world, whenever he confronted the dark side of life, he fought to keep the world safe for her, to make sure she could fall asleep and not fear the bogeyman.

Clouds of steam billowed out the door to clash with the chilled air in the room. He shivered as goose bumps broke out on his bare skin. As he returned to the bathroom, the faint aroma of steak snuck under the door. His stomach growled, and he smiled. Looked like she was trying too. At least he hoped she was.

He rushed through his shower, then dried off and got dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. When he opened his door, he noticed the package sitting in front of the entryway. He bent down, picked up the box, turned, and kicked the door shut behind him. He placed the package on his bed and bent to read the label. For a moment he couldn’t understand who would be sending him something, nor could he remember if he’d ordered anything. He bent down and read the addresses. Understanding dawned on him when he read the name of the company.

He leaned over and reached under his mattress and pulled out a switchblade and opened it. Before he slit open the tape, he took a moment to study the box. It was a pretty large box, about three feet tall and three feet wide. The company’s logo and name were on the shipping label but nowhere else. Interesting. He held his fingertips over the box but didn’t touch the surface. An electric charge tickled his fingers and rushed up his arms. He sucked in a breath as the energy hit his heart and then slipped down to his groin to swirl in his balls. Sexual heat rose to circle in his stomach. Ropes of fire slipped through his blood and coiled around his body. A hiss pushed past his teeth. He jerked his hands away. Sparks continued to go off in his body, but he managed to tamp them down until he could breathe past the fog of passion pulsing in his gut. He called on his stillness training to fill him. An ice-cold blast that smelled like oncoming snow welled up within him. He blew out a stream of frost. An inferno followed the cold until he could feel like himself again. The passion was a low tingle in his spine and testicles but nothing else. This he could manage.

He slit open the top of the box and peeled back the folds. Among the balls of wadded-up paper and air bags were the eggs in the basket. The basket looked just like the picture on the site: bright bands of purple, pink, green, yellow, and blue formed the base and twisted to create the handle. The material that made the basket seemed to be rope, reinforced with a hard cardboard cradle to keep its shape. The eggs themselves were large plastic ones in the colors of lavender, sky blue, and spring green. He grabbed the lavender one and looked it over before putting it back in the box. He selected the blue one next. This one contained the vibrators, clamps and cock rings. They’d never used anything but dildos in their play, so this should be interesting. If she decided to stay. He still had no clue how to approach her or give her what she wanted besides sex. And there was no indication she wanted even that.

The scent of steak grew stronger, and his stomach rumbled. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was early afternoon. If he didn’t eat soon, the dragon side of him would take over and have him hunt for something. He drew in a deep breath, blew it out, and called for a little of the hunter focus he’d developed. He opened up the last egg, mentally checking off everything: condoms, lube, and massage oil. Everything was neatly packed in its own cases and packets. Nothing seemed too crowded or too big to fit.

There seemed to be a spell on each item so everything would fit. His fingertips tingled with the faint trace of magic that clung to his choices. The labels had been taken off, but he knew they were top-of-the-line as he’d seen the same products on other sex toy sites.

“Some powerful magic. I wonder how long it will last.” His stomach growled again. He lifted the basket to make sure that nothing had fallen out. At the bottom of the box was a pack of cards. He removed it. On dark-red packaging, the words read: TRUTH OR DARE. He rechecked the slip. Listed at the very bottom was ESSIE’S EXTRA: SEXY TRUTH OR DARE PLAYING CARDS. He ripped open the plastic wrap and lifted the flap. Curious, he dumped the cards out and examined them. Some cards had dares on them from the innocent to the ridiculous to the crazy. The truth cards made him uncomfortable.

The more he looked at the cards, the more unsettled he became. A kernel of an idea began to form in his mind. Carrie wanted him to talk, to open up? Then she was going to have to do it too.

His stomach grumbled, and his dragon began to snap and growl within him. Fine, fine. I’ll feed you. He headed downstairs, carrying the cards with him. The scent of steak and spices wafted on the air, making his mouth fill with saliva. She’d really been working. Some of his defensiveness melted, and his emotions opened up. He could feel the ties she’d tried to cut still there, a little stronger than yesterday. Rather than use his connection with her to read her thoughts and emotions, he decided to let her tell him.

He came into the kitchen to find the windows fogged up and Carrie putting a second plate of food on the table. She looked up as he entered the room. Her dark brown eyes were filled with reserve. “Hey.” Her tone was soft, almost demure.

He nodded his head. “Sorry I didn’t get up for breakfast. Was exhausted. This all for me?”

Her head bobbed in affirmation. “Yes. A peace offering.”

He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down. “We at war?” He didn’t think so but wanted to hear her side first.

She sank down in the seat and scooted it toward the table. “Not sure. We’ve been arguing.”

“Difference of opinion on an issue. Nothing to go to war about.” He took his own seat across from her and put the pack of cards next to his glass of beer.

“Are we playing strip poker later?” A smile quirked on her lips.

“Depends on you. Truth or dare edition?” He slid the cards toward her. “I got you a basket—well, it’s more for us. Filled with sex toys and stuff. That was included.”

She picked up the package and looked it over. “Dean, sex can’t—”

“No, but it lowers our defenses, makes us more open.” He had to point that out.

“Okay, sure, but we can’t use sex to cure our problems.” She put the cards down in the middle of the table and went back to her plate of food, cutting up her steak.

“But it may help.” He held up a hand to stave off her protestations. “I have a proposal. We use that deck. Play truth or dare. We use some of the toys from the basket as a reward system. You give me the truth, you get to come; you don’t, no orgasm.”

A well-sculpted eyebrow rose in question. “And what do you get out of the deal? How do I know you’ll give me the truth?”

“Because I’ll be playing by the rules too. Round one, I control your pleasure. Round two, you get to control my pleasure. I have to tell you the truth to get something, so… This is just as much about truth as it is about trust. Does that sound good to you? What are you thinking?”

“Okay, fine. I’m not completely convinced, but I’m willing to give this a try so long as I get the truth from you. I’m willing to give this a whirl. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow with a picnic.”

“I—”

“I’ll cook. You just have to wear the vibrating anal plug and silver bullet.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “This better be worth it.”

“It will be for me.” He settled back into his seat and dug into his food. At least she was giving his plan a chance. Now to make sure everything went well. How hard could telling the truth be?

Chapter Four

Easter

Carrie paced in her room. Nervous energy coursed through her body. Her palms were damp, and her head throbbed as panic rose up within her. What the hell did I just agree to? Is this contrary to what I wanted from him? Sex can’t save us. Those thoughts circled her head. She thought of the truth or dare cards and couldn’t understand how it could help. Is our relationship a game to him? Does he really want to be honest or does he want sex? A scream scratched up her throat. Frustration shoved away the nerves. She couldn’t see how his plan was better than just sitting down and talking it out. Does he really think sex lowers shields? Or is he basing his assumption on the pleasure reward principle? Give her a taste of relief and she’ll say anything? And what about him? What does he get from this? She still didn’t see his side of things. He wouldn’t be getting relief from frustration. He might control when she got an orgasm, but he didn’t get to come until it was her turn. She clenched her fists; her nails dug into her palms.

A knock on the door startled her. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, centered herself, and let her arms go slack and her shoulders slump. “Coming.”

“Oh, you will be,” was his response. The determination and wicked intent penetrated the door and bounced around her room to ping her body with soft taps, raising the hair on her nape and arms. Magic skittered over bare skin to sink deep into her flesh and tease a small charge of arousal inside her. She felt her sex grow heavy. Her clit thickened, and tingles raced along her inner thighs and lower back, around her ass to ride up her spine.

“Carrie?” he called. His voice was dark, deep. The doorknob turned, and the door swung open. He stood in the entryway of her bedroom, framed in darkness despite the bright sunlight that filtered through the space.

She cursed. “Do you really need all these tricks?”

His lips quirked into a smirk. He held up the anal plug, the silver bullet vibrator, and a bottle of lube. Her heart jolted at the sight, and her tummy flipped. She swallowed. It had been awhile since they’d done anal penetration. She might have been eager the night he got back, but this time was different. This time the intent wasn’t play or fun. There was an objective here. He was in control.

She’d never expressed her desire for him to take complete control in the bedroom. They’d done light bondage and included sex toys, but he’d never given the orders or fully taken control, nor had she surrendered herself to him completely. They were still finding their way in that area. The honesty issue was their first major hurdle. She doubted it would get easier; at least they’d have communication on their side.

“No.”

But he’d use them nonetheless. Sneaky dragon.

Might as well go along with him, see where it went. She gritted her teeth and held her hand out, palm up. “Hand them over.”

He shook his head. “Do you trust me?” He moved farther into the room with a predatory grace. Power rippled along her flesh; it tweaked her nipples, slipped over her stomach, and teased her pussy lips. She swallowed and pressed her thighs together.

She gritted her teeth. “Damn you.”

He lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “Do you?” His eyes flashed to molten gold for a moment. The dragon peeked out, then vanished. Black scales rippled over his bare arms and neck. The gray undertone glimmered under the darkened light that seemed to cling to him. The sunny warmth that streamed through the windows dulled as Dean allowed his dragon abilities to come into play and pulled the light into himself and used its warmth on her. Flicks of flame spread over her body, delving under her clothing to touch, tease her, remind her what he was capable of.

“Stop it.” Her voice sounded weak but low and husky. Need pulsed in her veins as her body tightened and sex slickened, readying her for him.

The shadows receded into him, and the room grew brighter. Her arousal continued, but she ignored it.

“Drop your pants and panties, and I’ll prep you and insert the plug and bullet.” He stood before her; a stubborn glint filled his eyes. His brown hair was combed back, away from his face, but a few waves brushed his chin. His bright turquoise eyes darkened to a deep blue that reminded her of an inviting pool in the middle of a quiet forest. She blinked and shook her head. Don’t fall in, she ordered herself. Instead of focusing on him, she moved to the bed, undid the buttons on her fly, shoved down her jeans along with her panties, then placed her hands on the mattress and bent over.

She jerked when she felt the rasp of her sweater being pushed up and her heated flesh exposed to the cooler air of the room. Goose bumps broke out on her skin. His calloused palms slid over her back. His thumbs traced the column of her spine as he moved his touch down until he cupped her ass. He gave the mounds a firm squeeze and then a slap. Heat flushed through her ass and cascaded into her sex, adding to the growing arousal. The prickles of desire increased.

He spread the cheeks of her buttocks and dribbled the lube over her anus. The cold gel dampened her ardor for a bit. He rubbed the unguent in, circling the entrance before pressing his thumb in, then withdrawing it. He dipped the tip in again, deeper this time. The invasion burned and stretched the opening, sending pain through her backside. She clenched her jaw and waited for the next push. He worked her rear channel, taking his time until the heat faded and a small tendril of pleasure snaked through her groin.

“Patience.” He slipped his hand over her hip and teased her puffy labia with quick, flirting touches. She wiggled her ass and whimpered.

“That’s it. Relax into it,” he crooned.

“Damn it. Move your fingers. Fuck me.” All thoughts of talking and confronting him or working out their problems broke apart as his fingers spread her pussy lips and darted over her clit. Her instincts switched to pure pleasure.

“Do you agree that I’m in control?” The question came out raw and rough.

“Yes.” The single word was hissed out. Her hips bucked when he tapped the sensitive bundle of nerves.

He pushed his thumb farther into her back passage as he pressed on her clit, holding it down as a small orgasm began to build. A frustrated cry fell from her lips when he lifted his fingers from her clit and withdrew his thumb from her ass. He repeated the process, taking her closer to the edge and then retreated. Fire increased, burning higher and hotter within her. She didn’t even notice the glide of the anal plug into her ass. The ridges rubbed against walls, stimulating her nerve endings, adding to her desire. He slipped his hand between her thighs and urged them farther apart, his touch firm but gentle.

“Dean—” she started. Her words were cut off when he circled a blunt fingertip around her damp entrance before he slid it into her. He pulled out, then pushed forward, working her pussy until she didn’t think she could take any more. It wasn’t enough. She needed more heft, more pressure.

“Not yet.” His voice was strained and torn as if he was fighting against his better instincts.

“Damn it!”

The smooth head of the silver bullet slipped inside her, giving her just enough of the girth that she needed. He pressed a kiss to her nape and drew down her top. “Pull up your panties and jeans. Time to go.”

He gave her ass a swift slap and then sidestepped her and strode toward the bathroom. Frustration brought back her angst. “Asshole,” she muttered.

“I heard that,” he called out.

She pulled up her underwear and pants and closed the buttons on her fly. Desire buzzed around her body. She felt alive, saturated with light and energy. The silver bullet wasn’t wide enough to give her the friction she needed, but from the placement, she felt it against her G-spot—enough to start something but not enough for the fireworks. She wanted to undo her fly, push her fingers past the waistband of her panties, and reach down and fiddle with the antenna, see if she could work it against that sweet place to make herself come. Instead, she gritted her teeth and decided not to do anything. Who knew what Dean’s plans were, but if he didn’t let her come, she’d take care of it herself.

The water in the bathroom stopped, and Dean appeared in the doorway. “Ready to go?” Determination hardened his face, but there was a glint in his eye she recognized.

“As I’ll ever be. What about food?” Normally she was the one to make the meals. He did some cooking, like for breakfast, but mostly she was in charge of the kitchen.

“I took care of that. Don’t worry. I won’t poison you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at her until she felt the need to squirm.

“I know, but—” She didn’t want to sound whiny, but she was used to some sense of control. Being in the know settled her, allowed her to make appropriate decisions, and gave her a sense of security. Growing up, she’d latched on to that sense of comfort of making sure people kept their word and people were where they said they were. Being the office manager to a bunch of hunters gave her control of the jobs they took, able to help or connect them to people who could help and know they were safe.

Dean was putting her in a situation where he knew what they were going to do and what that would entail. What was this truth or dare game? Was it real? She hadn’t looked over all the cards. She hated not knowing.

“Do you trust me?” His gaze darkened to inky blue, and for a second, she wondered if he was pissed at her. Did he think she believed that he would poison them? Or that she didn’t trust him?

She looked him over and nodded.

“No. I have to hear you say it.” His tone was low, dark, and filled with a promise.

The velvety timbre wrapped around her, caressed her bare arms, neck, face, danced along her ears, and slipped between her fingers to tickle her palms.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I trust you.” To a point. They might be mates, but there were still things that divided them, things she didn’t know and he didn’t understand about her.

“Good. Just follow me, and it will be pleasurable for you.” He gave her another wicked grin before striding past her and out the door.

She knew that. Would this all be worth it? Would this truly save their fraying relationship?

She followed him out of her bedroom and down to the kitchen, where a picnic basket sat on the old, scratched-up farm table they used to eat at. She darted over to sneak a peek at the goodies. Vibrations rocked her core. Tingles of pleasure cascaded along her nerve endings as her toes curled. An oncoming orgasm snaked around her body as she clenched her fists. She gritted her teeth, trying to keep some semblance of control. Her clit tingled, and she shook as the first wave began to form. The pressure increased; the fire in her body threatened to burn out of control. Sweat beads pearled on her skin and slipped down her temples.

“Dean…” she managed to get out before the sensations became too much and the rest of her sentence turned into a whimper.

The vibrations stopped, but her body didn’t. She came with desperate, incoherent cries falling from her lips.

“Next time. Don’t come until I say.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck before he moved around her and grabbed the basket and headed to the back door. “Coming?”

Again his voice was laden with that extra something filled with dark promises. At first she wasn’t sure she could move. Her legs trembled, and her panties were wet. She wanted to go back upstairs and change. Or maybe just not leave the house again—let him use the plug and silver bullet in the privacy of her bedroom.

She opened her mouth to say she had changed her mind, but his words stopped her. “If you don’t go on the picnic, you won’t know what you want to know, and you won’t come unless you do it yourself.”

With a growl, she followed, hating that he knew what to say to get her to move. It wasn’t just an orgasm she was chasing. It was finally understanding the man she was mated to and loved.

Rather than take the car, they walked. He grabbed her hand as he led her toward Main Street.

“I did my research, and I know there’s a park at the end of the road. So we get to walk to it, and you get to tell me what’s good around here. I’ve already been in the florist and the bakery place. What else?” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. The simple gesture sent tingles up her arm. Her nipples tightened, and an electric charge shot straight to her pussy.

“Um.” She licked her lips. Her body felt heavy and full, waiting for him to do something else. “Well, there’s the pizza place,” she started.

“As good as deep dish?” he asked, voice light, as if he didn’t hold the key to her pleasure in his hand.

“It’s made by fairies. What do you think?” Anticipation rode her nerve endings as she waited for him to do anything, use the remote, or say something. So far, nothing. She tried not to grit her teeth and order him to make his move. She’d agreed to this, and he was in control.

“Are they the same fairies from your tribe?” The question was asked in a soft tone. Why, she didn’t know. She’d never told him about her backstory.

“No. My people have different abilities.” Carrie didn’t want to say that she didn’t actually know what her people did. And since her fairy abilities hadn’t shown up, with the exception of sparks when her emotions got the better of her, she wasn’t sure what else she could say. She had been meaning to see someone within the local fairy community to ask if they knew where she was from, but she was too scared to find out any information. For all she knew, she was the last of her line and there was nothing to tell.

“We’ve never discussed your people.” Again that low tenor from him.

“No need to walk on eggshells.” The words came out rough and tense.

He grabbed her arm in a loose hold that she could break if she pulled hard enough. His bright blue eyes glimmered with pinpricks of gold and red and orange. “No need to get pissed. I’m trying to get you to open up here without the cards. Give me something to work with.”

She drew in a deep breath and blew it out through her mouth. “Okay. It’s just a touchy subject. Can we try something different? Easier?”

He released her arm and looked her over. His scrutiny left a heated imprint on her body, pressing under the skin. He stroked his chin. “Fine. What’s your favorite position?” A glint sparkled in his eyes, and his lips twitched before he gave her a full-on smile.

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“What? You wanted easier.” He continued to grin at her.

She could only shake her head as she resisted a chuckle. “Fine. Kneeling. Mastery position. You know, where you’re sitting up, and I would be straddling your lap.”

He groaned. “We’ll have to try that sometime. Your turn to ask me something.”

She thought things over. She didn’t want to give him a sex question. If this was supposed to be meaningful, she wanted to ask things that mattered. “When did you become a hunter?”

Sadness filled his eyes. “I was sixteen. Scrawny, gangly, uncoordinated. A real wreck waiting to happen.”

She felt pain radiating off him in waves. Without a thought, she reached out, grabbed his hand, and gave it a squeeze.

“So why’d you agree to be our office manager?” The question came out of nowhere. At first she wasn’t sure why he was even asking her.

She decided to answer anyway. “I thought you knew. During college I acted as a research assistant for a hunter—good money, odd hours—but it gave me enough to put some away to pay off student loans and had extra to buy actual food, not junk food or pizza. He told me about your operation, and I interviewed with you once I graduated.”

Dean chuckled. “Ah yeah. I remember now. Old Deeks recommended you to me. Up until then we had a harpy who hated me but needed the job before she could retire.

She shook her head. “Sadie didn’t hate you. She was just tired of you asking that she fetch coffee and do stupid things like get you meals. You drove her crazy. Next question.”

“I forgot about that. I never had time to go out and eat, and if I didn’t ask her to get me food, I’d forget I was hungry. All right. When did you know you wanted to be with me?”

She almost tripped on the sidewalk. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks and neck. She hadn’t expected that question. For a moment she contemplated not telling him of her teenager-like crush on him. The vibrations caught her off guard. They rippled through her body as her muscles tensed, and her toes curled as pleasure hit her in waves.

His body heat pressed against her on the left side. “Answer the question and I let you come,” he whispered in her ear.

That single dark, sweet promise filled her up with warmth. She curled her fingers into fists; her nails dug into the skin of her palms. She swallowed. Did she want to embarrass herself or climax? A frustrated groan welled up in her throat. “From day one when you smiled at me,” she confessed. The words rushed out like they were on fire and she just had to get them out.

“Day one, huh?” His voice was darker. His humid breath teased the shell of her ear. “Funny. I knew I wanted you from day one too.”

He dragged his lips along the side of her throat. She shivered as the desire coiled tighter in her belly. “Day one,” he mouthed against her sensitive skin.

The vibrations increased. Her body shook as she tried to stay standing. A scream clawed its way up her lungs and to her throat. Small whimpers managed to escape her lips as she tried to push the cry back.

“Let go. Let it all go.” He bit a small patch of skin and sucked it into his mouth.

Her knees trembled, and she let out a scratchy, pained moan. The orgasm hit her, overwhelmed her until she felt like an inflamed nerve ending. Her toes and fingers hurt from their coiled position. She sagged against him. He wrapped an arm around her and guided her down the street. “Come on. There’s more where that came from.”

How they got to the park with her rubbery legs was beyond her. They found a nice shady spot off the beaten path and spread out a blanket and placed the basket. Once everything was done, she sat down.

He gave her a wolfish grin, full of teeth and mischief. “Now the real fun begins.”

She wasn’t sure she’d survive his version of fun if what he’d done on the street was any indication. Energy jittered along her muscles. Tension filled her legs and arms. She wanted to clench her fists and curl her toes, hold, and then release so her limbs could relax. Her gaze darted around the spread from the picnic basket to Dean to his hands and back to the container. She flexed her fingers and shook her legs. The urge to get up and pace rode her as the seconds slipped by.

“De—”

He held up the pack of cards and cut off her words with a single action. She licked her lips and swallowed. Her heart did a nervous flutter, and she swallowed again, waiting to see what he would do. Dean flipped up the lid, shook out the cards, put the package down, shuffled the deck, then spread out the cards. He indicated the fan. “Pick two cards.”

She examined the black scrollwork pattern on each card and held her hand over the spread. Energy pulsed from the objects. Her palm tingled with the magic that tickled and caressed her flesh. She hadn’t felt that charge before. Interesting, she thought. She selected two cards and handed them to Dean, not sure if she should’ve looked at them or not.

Light filled his eyes as he accepted her choices. “Not curious about your fate?”

“Tell me what I’m supposed to tell you or what I have to do.” She wanted to get this over with; the waiting was chafing her nerves.

He chuckled. “Scared? My sweet fairy is scared. Interesting. Okay, here we go.” He looked down at her picks. “You can either tell me about your first kiss or bark like a dog, your choice.”

She stared at him, laughter bubbling up inside of her. “That easy, huh? Fine, kiss. It was Sean Drews, and we were in first grade. I had just come off the slide when he declared that I was his girlfriend and kissed me on the lips. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t been rolling around in the dirt before that.” She shook her head and shuddered. “Couldn’t get the taste of dirt out of my mouth for a few days.”

He chuckled.

“My best friend at the time got her first kiss from a kid who was recovering from the chicken pox. He came back to school too early and, well, she ended up with the pox a few days later. Blech.” She winced at the memory.

Dean’s face scrunched up in disgust. He placed the cards face up next to the fan and chose two cards of his own. He handed them to her, facedown. “What’s my fate?” He turned and began to unpack the basket: a few sandwiches, seltzer water and sodas, carrot sticks, plastic plates and utensils, and two covered bowls of soup. “Simple, fair, but quick to make. Now tell me.”

She read the cards and grinned. “What was your first sexual experience, or you can do the chicken dance.”

He stared at her. “What the fuck is the chicken dance?”

She could only shake her head at his lack of knowledge. “You don’t…how could you not… I’m so not showing you. So which is it?”

“Is the dance that bad?” He handed her a sandwich and a seltzer water.

“Not bad…” She paused to think on how to describe it. “It’s just silly.”

“Ah, so made for humiliation. No. My first sexual experience was when I was sixteen, drunk on pilfered beers. It was messy. We didn’t know what we were doing and got shit wrong. I ripped two condoms and got the last one right. I came after three strokes inside her. I was so nervous, and she gave me a hickey.” His face softened, and a smile lit his eyes. He began to guffaw. “Dalton walked in on us and scared the shit out of me. Pulled a gun on both of us. Claimed he thought I was being attacked by a werewolf or something. Turns out she was. As embarrassing as that was, I wouldn’t take it back for the world.”

Jealousy twisted in her gut. The light in his eyes, the happiness on his face. Clearly he’d had a good time with the wolfie chick, whoever she was. Carrie wished she could’ve seen him at sixteen. Would he have been just as devastating as he was now with his brown hair and light eyes? She tried to picture him with a little less muscle, no stubbles or bags under his eyes, or tattoos or piercings. The thought of him with another woman left a sour taste in her mouth. Did she really want to let him go, let him be with someone else? She shivered and tried to distract herself by unwrapping her sandwich.

He reached out and grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad I had that moment because otherwise I wouldn’t have understood what I liked in sex or what I wanted.”

Warmth trickled up her arm and spread through her chest as the tension loosened, and some of her envy faded around the edge but still sat like a lump in her stomach. “Okay.” Why she said that, she wasn’t sure, but the word slipped out.

He gave her a nod. “Okay. Next cards.”

She let go of his hold and made her selection. So far he hadn’t used the remote to reward her. That disappointed her. Part of her wanted to be a brat and see what he would do. Let’s test him and see if he’ll give me little something. She handed him her picks and waited.

His gaze darted over the cards, and then he stared up at her. “You can either strip down to your bra and panties, or tell me something you’ve never told me before. If I had to pick a subject, I’d like you to tell me about your people, your parents.”

Ice water filled her veins, and a chill stole over her. She grabbed the can of seltzer to give her hand something to do.

“Um,” she started as her thoughts tumbled over themselves, getting tangled up. Panic welled up in her. I had only been kidding. “Um,” she muttered again.

Vibrations shook her, rocking her out of her confusion, and sexual need took the place of her internal turmoil. The delicious sensations cascaded through her, distracted her. She squeezed her thighs as her clit pulsed and her pussy fluttered.

“Carrie, give me an answer,” Dean urged in a soft tone.

She wasn’t sure what he was talking about. It took all her willpower to focus and try to speak. The pleasure cut off suddenly, making her feel as if she had just been isolated from something wonderful. “Um—” she tried to start, but her voice was low, ragged, smoky. “I was twelve when I found out I was different,” she managed to say.

The sweet feelings started again, deep in her core. She clung to them until once more they stopped. She hung over the edge, waiting for another round.

“Different how?” he asked, that same quiet tenor.

“Fairy light. It manifested. A friend had to move away, and I started crying. My body began to glow, like I was a lightbulb or something. The more I cried, the brighter it became.” She let the words tumble out and waited for him to press the button.

She watched his thumb depress the button on the small remote. She sank into the thrill that danced along her nerve endings. A moan escaped as her muscles turned to liquid.

“And then?” he queried. The bliss stopped, and she groaned.

“I told my parents.” She swallowed. “They looked at each other and then sat me down and told me that I was left on their doorstep with a note to take care of me. That they were good humans, and my real parents hadn’t been able to keep me safe so they gave me away.” Tears choked her throat as the memories came flooding back. Standing there in the bright, clean living room filled with simple comforts, young Carrie had felt cold, confused, and unsure if what she was being told was true. She had thought that maybe she was in some sort of dream. “I couldn’t understand why they were telling me this. I accused them of being liars.”

She could picture the pain on her adopted parents’ faces. They had reached out for her, tried to pull her to them, but she had stepped back, out of their reach. “My mother got up and left the room. She came back with the note and the bassinet that I’d been placed in. Classic freaking story.”

Pain ripped through her heart. She hung her head as the tears spilled over her cheeks. “I read the note and still didn’t understand. Why would my birth parents abandon me?” She sucked in a breath as waves of agony stole the air and imagined walls closed in around her. Panic set in. She wanted to get up, to run away from the crash of memories that welled up inside of her. She couldn’t take in enough oxygen. The atmosphere around her had thinned. She found herself gasping as tears bathed her face and hurt ripped her apart into tiny pieces.

Dean moved to her side and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. She fought against his hold, tried to shake him off. “Let go,” she managed to get out. “No. No.”

“Amore mio, tell me. Let it out. Show me,” he urged.

She didn’t want to continue. “Can’t make me.” The silver bullet and anal plug began to shake inside her. The vibe sat right over her G-spot. Her toes curled as the passion overtook her. Her climax slammed into her. She couldn’t breathe past the pressure that rocked her. Aftershocks hit her like body blows as she fought for some kind of control, only to lose. As the tide receded, her body twitched and her muscles jumped. She lay in his embrace, mind fogged by the afterglow, limbs weak. Tears continued to slip over her cheeks.

“Tell me what happened? Why did you search your people out?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“My fairy light kept flicking in and out. Whenever I got emotional, it would appear. On some occasions sparks would appear. My adopted parents were human. They couldn’t understand or advise me on how to handle it. I lived in a nonparanormal area. There was no one around who could help. I was losing friends. I had to be withdrawn from school. People said things, horrible things. The teenagers were worse. They called me Lightbulb and Glowworm or Glow Stick. They insinuated drug use.” The story came out in a weak, thready voice as she tried to find her breath. The memories played unchecked.

“It was horrible,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “My parents and I had to move. They were forced to unplug the phones to stop the crank calls. Their tires were slashed, the words HOUSE OF FREAKS was written on the side of our home, bottles thrown at me when I went out, all the nasty looks and whispers. Our town had been so nice and sedate. It turned so horrible and judgmental. We moved to an all-paranormal town where a few humans lived. No fairies though.”

Her heart and head hurt. “I was so disappointed when I found no one of my kind to talk to. It was a comfort being part of a community where they were used to seeing someone like me. I did get some advice on how to deal with my fairy light, but other than that, I had no one to mentor me. I felt all alone.”

His arms tightened around her. “After the move, my parents stopped talking about it. It was like I lived in a house separate from them. We lived in two different worlds. They were there for me physically, but emotionally, they had checked out.” She reached up and grabbed hold of his wrist. “I felt so alone, more so than ever.”

“And that’s why you need me to talk to you, keep you updated on how I’m doing while on the road? What happened when you tried to find your people?” The tenor of his voice was soft and soothing, lulling her into comfort.

She felt safe and connected to him. She settled into his arms and closed her eyes. “I didn’t find anything. I worked for a paranormal connection agency. They brought people like me together in the paranormal community, who had been abandoned, and helped them find their groups and get them information if they couldn’t locate their families. They couldn’t find anything about my group, no clues from the bassinet or the note. I tried doing searches on our database during the slow moments, but I’ve turned up nothing.”

Dean pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Oh, honey, I understand now.”

She hoped he did. She felt wrung out emotionally and physically. She couldn’t give him anymore of herself at the moment.

He reached down and lifted her unwrapped sandwich. “Eat something. We’ll stay here for a bit longer. Truth or dare is on hold.”

A comfortable silence fell between them. She lay against his chest as she ate until there was nothing left. Once they were done and he cleaned up after them, he stood up and held out his hand. “Let’s go home. It’s time I give you the piece of me I’ve been holding back.”

The words sounded ominous, and nervous energy filled the pit of her stomach. She accepted his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You don’t have to—”

“No, I have to. You’re my mate. You deserve to know about my past.” He unclasped her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the park’s exit. The hard tone in his voice made her stomach flutter. Just what had he been through?

Chapter Five

They walked in silence through the town. Tension radiated through Dean. Determination and dread spiderwebbed his body, ensnaring him in emotions. His lunch threatened to rebel. Memories tried to shove forward as sweat beaded on his brow. His palms felt damp. He wanted to pull his hand away from Carrie’s grip but couldn’t muster enough energy to release his hold on her. Her touch helped keep him in the here and now and allowed him to feel somewhat safe.

By the time the house came into view, he felt drained of energy. Every step had been an effort. He felt like he’d been trudging through mud. When they stopped at the front door, Carrie laid a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything.” Her voice was soft and soothing.

Dean could only shake his head. “Need to.”

A sense of panic frayed his nerves. The urge to look for exits, even in his own home, grew as each second stretched out like a rubber band ready to snap. As they approached the front door, his feet felt like they were filled with cement. Sweat beaded his brow and dampened his lower back. Tension tightened the muscles of his legs and arms. The spot between his shoulders itched and burned. He clenched his jaw and forced himself up the front steps and waited as she unlocked and opened the door. She touched his arm and he jumped.

“Dean.” Her voice was low.

Warmth ebbed up his limb from contact with her.

He gave himself a mental shake. Get a move on, he ordered himself and forced his body to move forward and into the safety of his home. The cool darkness wrapped around him as soon as he was inside. Rather than wait another second, he turned and headed toward the main staircase. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” His words came out harsher than he’d intended.

“The picnic basket?” Her voice came as if from far away.

He paused on the first step, perplexed.

“Look down at your arm.” This time she sounded closer.

He followed her order and saw the wicker handle hanging off his wrist. For the first time since they left the park, he felt the weight and rough-weave pattern pressing into his skin. “Oh.” In a haze, he switched his direction and went to the kitchen. On autopilot, he put the things away before going back to the stairs. Carrie grabbed his hand and led him up the flight toward her room. They didn’t say a word until they were in the bedroom. She shut the door and locked it. The snick rocked up his spine as the sweat at the base of his back increased. The tendons in his neck felt tight and ready to snap.

“Dean, you’re safe. You’re with me,” she crooned. “Focus on me.”

He closed his eyes and opened his senses. He could feel the warmth of the room from the heater. His skin prickled at the brush of warm air. Her vanilla perfume couldn’t mask the faint scent of her desire. He could feel her aura pressing against him, the calming presence that washed over him like blanket. He latched on to the feeling, let it seep into his skin and push away the dense cloud that swirled within him. It felt like shards of sunlight piercing the gloom. His exhale came out in a pained groan. Pieces of emotion circled his heart, filling his chest as old wounds ripped open.

“Dalton,” he whispered.

“Who is Dalton?” Carrie’s question came from a distance once more.

He opened his mouth as he tried to give her a response. His answer snagged on his teeth and slipped out on a rough murmur. “My old mentor.”

He could see Dalton’s dark, flat stare, not even the gold glints of his eyes were showing. The old werewolf hated to smile, barely cracked a chuckle, and almost never joked around. The memories were like body blows to Dean’s torso, arms, and legs. A whimper came out as he remembered the taste of the foul, black, gloopy coffee Dalton always made because he didn’t trust the mainstream diners and shops. The sneer Dalton would give Dean when he tried to add sugar or sneak off to get a decent cup of java. Dean felt as if his heart were cracking apart. He sucked in a shaky breath as the past threatened to overwhelm him.

“Stay with him,” Carrie whispered. “Be here with me and tell me about Dalton.”

A lump formed in his throat. He wasn’t sure he could; his mouth refused to sound out the words. It felt as if his tongue were coated with peanut butter.

“Take your time.” Carrie moved around him, her hands working over his body in soft swipes.

He relaxed in degrees as he took in her touch. She grabbed his wrists and drew them down his sides before she took hold of one of the lapels of his jacket and pulled it down in the back. He shrugged out of the garment and let her pull it off his arms.

Finally the words managed to find a way out. “He was a good man, taking on a mere pup of a kid who didn’t know the difference between a flogger and a full-on bull whip.”

A strained laugh slipped past his lips as he remembered the hours Dalton had made him work with each whip until he’d mastered it, and then moved on to combos while learning spells too, reading about the different kinds of paranormal beings that haunted their realm. He was quizzed daily and even during fights.

“I was a snot-nosed kid with a smart-ass attitude who thought I understood what paranormal was because I was one of those things we hunted. Dalton broke me down. He never told me why he’d taken me on as his foster son—” Tears choked him once again, and he lost the ability to take in air. “My parents—”

He stopped and hunched over as the pain hit him in the solar plexus. He tried to breathe past the ache in his heart and stomach. Carrie ran her hand over his back. With slow strokes she brought him back to the present.

“I’m right here for you,” she murmured.

He latched on to her soft, soothing tone, wrapped it around him and let it lift him. Once he could breathe without feeling as if a weight were on his chest, he pushed on. “My parents left me. They just disappeared one night. No evidence of where they went or even if there was foul play.” Flashes of confusion filtered through his pain-ravaged mind as he opened the door to his past.

“The dragon council put me in a foster home while they investigated. Dalton was in town on another case. He came to the house and offered to take me. No reasons, no call ahead. He just showed up. My foster family was already overburdened with more kids than they had room for, and with a sign-off from the council, they allowed him to take me with an agreement that he check in once a year. His reputation as a hunter helped him cut through the red tape and all the interviews.”

Carrie rubbed his back and murmured soft words of encouragement. He didn’t trust his body to hold up if he sank onto the bed. “For the first few months, I was left in a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and fear. I put up walls, and Dalton didn’t help by not talking to me or explaining why he took me in the first place. In the beginning he let me mope and only allowed me to help when I was having clear moments. I found solace in the work. I got to kick ass and work on my issues by hunting others of my kind who’d done wrong. Then I met a girl. She was perfection personified, at least in my puberty-struck mind.”

Carrie made a snorting noise, and Dean chuckled. He took a moment to get his thoughts in order. Even after all these years, his memory of that night was in a jumble. “It’s still a blur for me, but I remember Dalton saying he was going out on a job and to wait by the phone for his call if he needed backup. I told him no problem. But then she called me, and I just…I lost my head. We stayed on the phone for hours. It wasn’t until well after midnight that I realized I had been tying up the line.”

Pain splintered in his heart once more as his chest felt as if it were filled with stone and a rush of hot tears hit him. “He was dead, Carrie. He’d died while I was on the phone with that meaningless girl who I didn’t see after it was all over. She tried calling me, but I didn’t answer, and I never sought her out. It took years.” He whispered the last part. “Years that I wallowed in fear, anguish, horror in my head, in my heart. I failed him. I wasn’t there for him. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I started the hunter business so that hunters could depend on people at home and have a base to come to. They wouldn’t be alone like I was.”

“Dean,” Carrie murmured as she hugged him from the side, squeezing him in her embrace.

“When I met you, I was so fractured. I knew who you were to me, what you would mean to me, and I was terrified I’d let you down, that you’d get hurt, that you’d become like Dalton. I can’t lose you, Carrie.” He turned in her arms. Tears streaked down his face. He flexed his arms to allow movement, lifted his hands, and cupped her face. “I love you, Carrie. I won’t let that happen to you. I won’t abandon you. I won’t lose my head and leave you hanging.”

He turned completely and reached down and hugged her to him, leaning to bury his face in the crook of her neck. “My reasons for hunting the things that go bump in our community are to find out what happened to my parents and make sure it never happens again. But now I hunt to keep you safe and make a world for you that I know you can walk in without the fear of you disappearing.”

She reached up and caressed his cheek. “And I’ll stand by you when you do it. I can’t guarantee that something won’t happen to me, because the nature of our business always changes. But we do what we must.” She lifted on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

He inhaled deeply and blew it out. A weight had been lifted, but he wanted to give her a gift to show her that he was all hers, that nothing was between them.

“Carrie, I’m going to submit to you. I want you to tie me down and make love to me. I want to show you that I trust you not only with my emotions, my past secrets, but with all that I am.” He held his breath, waiting for her to say something.

Surprise lit up her dark brown eyes. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to wet her plump bottom lip. “You want to…”

“I’m submitting to you. I am submitting to my dragon mate.” He waited for whether she’d go for it or not. “I want you to use the cuffs and cock rings on me.”

Again the bright pink tip slipped out. “Okay,” she whispered.

His legs turned to water, and he almost sank to his knees.

She laughed. “What? You weren’t sure I’d say yes?”

“No, not really,” he confessed.

“I’m nervous. I’ve never done this before.”

He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. “I trust you, amore. Always have.”

Emotions flashed across her face. “You say that now, but what if I—”

“Stop! I. Trust. You. Now, let’s get this started before you change your mind or I chicken out.” He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and off; then he went for his fly.

“Whoa, slow down.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “We have time.”

He chuckled. “Honey, my cock is being squeezed by my jeans and not in a good way.” He undid his belt and the button and pulled down the zipper before she could stop him.

Rather than protest, she seemed to take an interest in her surroundings. “I have to go get the basket. Why don’t you finish undressing and then get on the bed and while you’re waiting for me think of a safe word. Okay?”

“Okay.” He shuffled over to the bed and sat down. He yanked off his boots and socks, not giving himself time to slow down or think about what he was getting into. Dean stood up once more and shucked his jeans. Once he was completely nude, he looked down at himself. A nervous flutter started in his stomach. He knew Carrie found him attractive, sexy, but would she enjoy being in control of him? Even he had doubts about whether or not he’d like it. Dragons were the ones in control of their situations. Opening himself up like this, submitting to his mate, left him vulnerable, not only in strength and body but also in emotion.

The dragon wasn’t sure about this, but it didn’t protest. Instead, it gave him a surge of its strength. Scales rippled over his skin, and he felt the beast rise up but stop just before surfacing completely. It was a comfort knowing he could partially shift and break free of his restraints if he needed to. He took her absence as time to figure out his safe word. She returned with the items he’d suggested: the silver handcuffs and the black leather snap cock rings. His semihard cock thickened a bit more. He gave himself a pinch on the crown to stave off the arousal. The harsh tactic worked, and some of his desire receded.

“Ready?” She held up the sex toys. “Safe word?”

“Yes. Banana.” He turned and climbed on the bed, stretched out, and waited for her to make her move. It didn’t take long. He reached over his head and grabbed on to her headboard slats. He curled his fingers around the thin wooden bars. The painted rods felt cool against his skin. He latched on to the sensation and closed his eyes as the bed jostled underneath him. Her hands coasted over his legs, up and down. Warmth flowed through him, soothing away his nerves. He sucked in some air when he felt her fingers tease and brush his cock. He didn’t flinch when he felt the press of warm leather against his dick. She slipped the bit of softness against him, back and forth, before he felt the pinch of the cock ring around the base of his shaft. She repeated the process with the second and then the third ring. She moved up his body, planting kisses and kitten flicks of her tongue before she reached his arms and snicked the cuffs on one, then the other, until he was well and truly bound.

“Now I’m ready,” she said.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Do your worst, amore.”

CARRIE TOOK IN Dean stretched out on her bed. His hands gripped the spokes of her headboard but not, thankfully, in a white-knuckled grip. He was relaxed and open. Golden light bathed his scarred body. Tears slipped down her cheeks unchecked. She felt as if she was gazing at a precious treasure. He was trusting her—not just with his body but his heart, his soul. The loss of his parents, of his mentor… Her heart clenched as pain spasmed through her chest. They had both lost so much, both mired in pain and hope and hiding behind walls that kept them safe and others out. It wasn’t until he told his story that she realized just how much she was hiding from him.

No more.

As mates, as partners, they couldn’t go on like this.

“What? What’s wrong?” His voice was rough with emotion, his eyes filled with caution and worry.

She reached out and ran her hand along his side. The raised ridges of old scars and smooth skin flowed under her palm. “No,” she whispered. With her free hand, she wiped away her tears. “Nothing wrong.”

“Tell me,” he urged.

She looked away from his gaze and circled her fingertips around his tightened nipple. “I was just thinking that we are both so damaged and hurt by life. And that you’re trusting me with all of you. I just… There are no words for that. Not even thank you is adequate.”

Dean lifted his chest as if trying to get up but settled down when his bonds limited his movement. “There is no need for thanks, amore. We are mates. We’re in this together. I’ve started to heal because of you.”

She moved her stare up to his eyes and studied his face. His features didn’t hide anything from her. He truly believed that. Her heart lurched, and she wanted to cry all over again. Instead she took in a deep breath and steeled herself to give him pleasure, to show him how much she desired, wanted, and needed him. Carrie threw a leg around his lap and sank down onto his thighs. She moved forward and gave his shoulders a squeeze. She felt no resistance or tension. She released them and sat up again, leaned over, and grabbed a card.

“‘Give your lover a compliment,’” she read. She didn’t have to rack her brain to find something. “I love that you’re so strong, physically. You can take on anything thrown at you.” She punctured that statement by raking her fingernails over his chest, rasping his nipples as she went. He groaned and pushed out his chest. Faint pink lines formed on the golden skin.

“More.” His breathing was shaky as his cock jerked on his stomach.

She ignored the thickened rod and focused on memorizing his chest with light swipes and swirls of her fingers. She scooted back and leaned down before she started to explore him with her lips—light kisses dusted along the column of his neck, love bites across his chest, flicks and licks around his pectorals and nipples before switching back to butterfly touches along his ribs and over his stomach.

“I love how fit you are.” She punctuated that statement on a giggle as he shifted underneath her. “Superficial, I know, but I love to look at you when you’re naked or shirtless or just, hell, whenever.”

“Will be naked more often.” His voice was low and gravelly. He flexed his hips but couldn’t force her to do anything or buck her off. “Now please, jerk me off.”

She chuckled as she sat up before she put the card back on the table and selected another one. “No. Playtime, and we haven’t really played the game correctly. Now what does this say?” She paused to read it and laughed. “Looks like fate is on your side. ‘Tease your partner with your mouth but don’t let him come.’”

He groaned; his head lolled on the pillow. “Please.”

She looked down at his groin, the thick, ruddy stalk wrapped in black leather cock rings with a droplet of his desire at the slit. For a moment, worry dampened her ardor. “How are you feeling? Does your cock hurt? Should I loosen the straps?”

“Touch me,” he urged. He pressed his head into the pillows once more. His tendons stood out from his neck. “Feel so much.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “Babe—”

“God, please.” Scales rippled over his skin. He lifted his head and gazed at her with molten gold eyes. “Now, please.”

Understanding dawned on her. The dragon wanted out and to play. “Orgasm?”

He writhed on the bed a bit more. “Will help.”

“Okay then.” She slid down onto her stomach between his legs and focused her attention on his testicles. She didn’t forget the previous card. “I love how strong your legs are.”

She played her fingers along his inner thighs. His legs were lightly covered in a dusting of golden hair. “I love that you’re not too hairy.”

“Carrie—”

She cut him off by taking one delicate testicle into her mouth and giving it a gentle pull. He moaned in response. She used her free hand to roll the other ball in her palm. His unique musky scent was stronger here, as was his body heat. He shifted as she sucked and teased his other testicle with her tongue, released it, and then transferred her attention to the other one. She released him and spread the sac wide, then traced her tongue down the center. She heard the rasp of his heels against the sheets. Small whimpers and grunts filled the air. The scent of his arousal grew with each lick. She focused on his right inner thigh and then the left, using nips and flicks of the tip of her tongue to tease and torment him before going back to his testicles. She laved the sac, teasing him until he shook on the bed. Ragged cries came from his mouth.

She pulled back on her ministrations, sat up on her heels to watch and wait for him to calm down. His cock was thick, flushed red, and leaking precum. The straps of the cock rings stood out in stark contrast to his ruddy skin.

“How are you doing?” She needed to know if he was in any pain. His skin was still scaled with black tiles edged in gray. A red sheen glimmered in the golden light. Sweat coated his torso and his face. He opened his eyes. Gold with black dots looked back at her; intense need shone in the dark-yellow depths.

“Fuck. Me.” His voice was inhuman—deep, dark, and so rough it was as if he were speaking with boulders in the depths of his throat.

A rush of confidence purred through her at the sight of his desire for her. She felt sexy, desired, and in command. The feeling surprised her. She’d never thought she could enjoy being in charge before. It was nice, but she wanted to know what it would be like to be held at his mercy and under his thrall. One day. For now she was going to give him what he wanted—to a point.

She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Not done yet.” She crawled up his body, reveling in the press of his humid heat against her own damp skin. As a dragon, his temperature burned hotter than normal. She took in his partially shifted form. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his cock. She looked down his body, curious. “Looks like I haven’t done my job completely. I’ve heard dragons can thicken and lengthen their cocks, even grow scales too. I want to see if I can push you to it.”

He jerked on his bonds but didn’t try to break them. She appreciated that.

“Fuck me or get off. Just bring it,” he challenged.

She chuckled. “You know I will.” She tossed her head and straddled him, bent down, and pressed her mouth to his, starting off soft before using more pressure, pouring her emotions into her affection. The kiss turned passionate with a mesh of teeth and tongues. She didn’t pull back until she felt light-headed and had to pant just to take air into her lungs. She licked her bruised lips and savored the prickle.

“Fuck. Me.” Each word was edged in a growl.

“Patience.” She kissed and nibbled along his jaw, down his neck, over his chest before she paused to flick and nip his tightened nipples. She sucked one hard tip into her mouth, then released it and showed the other the same attention. She took care to trace her tongue between the dips and peaks of his abs. Down she went, exploring his body. She scraped her nails along his ribs reveling in the groans that came from his mouth. She gripped his hips and stopped over his groin. His cock lay against his stomach. Scales decorated the thick rod, the top slick with precum. She relaxed onto her belly. She played her tongue along the column, savoring the smooth ridges. She traced the thick vein on the underside of his cock. He squirmed and groaned. The rattle and thud of chains against the wood slats of her headboard sounded above her.

“Please, please, please,” he begged in between groans of pleasure.

She couldn’t deny him any longer. Nor could she ignore the heat and desire that pulsed heavily between her legs. Her thighs were slick with her need for him. Her demanding clit throbbed. As much fun as it was to give him attention and show him pleasure, it was time to give them both what they wanted.

She pushed up and got to her knees, crawled over to the side of the bed, and grabbed a condom off the nightstand. She didn’t rip it open immediately; instead she placed it on his stomach and surveyed his state. His eyes were wild, almost feral. His face was covered in the black tiles.

“Now don’t come. I’m going to release the straps.” She bit her bottom lip and waited for him to respond.

“Do it.” His body tensed, but the determination on his face didn’t waver.

She started with the first leather strap. She took hold of the shaft and pulled on the tab. He sucked in a large amount of air, and then it gusted out. “Fuck!”

She paused. “Are you—”

“More, damn it.”

His cock jerked in her hand as more precum dribbled over the flared crest. Encouraged, she undid the next one and waited. Only one more to go. The thick, clear cum slipped over her hand, making her grip difficult. She decided to use it to her advantage and push him closer to the edge. She gave him a few quick strokes followed by one long, slow tug. He moaned and thrashed to the point she lost her hold. She let go and waited until he quieted down. His chest rose and fell as he struggled to take in air.

“Fuck. So close. Please, amore.”

She couldn’t deny him any longer. She released the last ring. He let out a roar as he came. His cock jerked in her hand. She helped him, stroking his shaft, holding it gently as she milked his cock for every drop of his cum. She let him go when he stopped shaking. To give him time to recover, she crawled off the bed. She went to the bathroom, wet a small towel, and returned to him to clean up the mess. Once everything was wiped up, she brought the towel to the bathroom and quickly removed the plug and vibrator he’d put in her. She returned to find his cock still hard and covered in scales.

“Ride me. Come for me, amore.” His eyes were back to their usual turquoise color but shone with a faint, golden glow.

Not having to be told twice, she climbed onto the bed, crawled between his legs, and sat on her heels. She picked up the foil-wrapped packet and ripped it open. With practiced ease, she rolled it onto him, then positioned herself over his cock. She grasped his shaft and held it as she lowered herself onto him. Sinking inch by inch, savoring the feel of him stretching her sensitive vaginal walls, she moaned at the pleasure and pain. Up and down she moved, taking him deeper and deeper, squeezing her inner muscles, pulling him farther inside until he was balls-deep. She rode him, taking her time, letting the tension build as the pressure expanded and enveloped her. She let her orgasm grow and crystallize until the stress broke and grabbed hold of her body. Sensation shimmered through her on heated pinpricks. Her climax overwhelmed her to the point of pain. She felt him expand and jerk inside her as he came once more.

She heard the snick of the metal chains of the cuffs snapping. He grabbed her hips and sat up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. He dropped his head and took her lips in a branding kiss that seared her to her soul. She pulled her head back, gasping for air.

“I love you, Carrie,” he murmured before he buried his head in the crook of her neck.

“I love you too, Dean,” she whispered back. Despite the afterglow, she didn’t think he was saying that in the heat of the moment. She knew it to be true and reveled in the knowledge.

Chapter Six

After Easter

Dean opened his eyes and groaned as bright sunlight filled his view. He rolled over to cuddle into Carrie’s warmth. The delicious scent of coffee drifted into the room. One of the hunters must have returned and set the automatic timer. He grunted as he pushed off the covers and stood up. He stretched his back; the vertebrae in his spine pinged and cracked. He padded over to the small yoga area he had set up and began his morning routine. Last night’s sexual session had been fun and a learning experience for both of them. Pride swelled in his chest as he remembered how confident she was, how open she had been with him. Last night had brought them closer together. He now understood her better and her wants, needs, and desires. A sense of awe filled him at how much trust she’d put in him. He might have been the one tied down, but she’d given him a piece of herself.

It wasn’t just that he’d trusted her with his body and to keep him from harm. He couldn’t get her story out of his head. Remnants of pain seared his heart. He had created a large web of connections with all the favors he’d done other hunters over the years. Plus, there was his and Carrie’s own stable to consider. Why hadn’t she asked the hunters who crashed at their place for help? Then again, she didn’t know what fairy clan she was a part of, so she couldn’t pin down where they could look. Based on the fact that she only seemed to display fairy light, he surmised that her people were of the lower caste. Fun, mischievous, sweet, and helpful, just like her.

He grinned. He had a few contacts he could touch base with to ask if anyone matching that description could be found or at least a hint of where they were. Until recently he hadn’t had anyone to depend on. Last night he realized he could trust Carrie. Shutting her out had been stupid and childish.

They had started their journey to becoming better mates. They needed to be more communicative, but also he needed to be open with his emotions. First he wanted to give Carrie something that would be the world to her. He had to find her people.

After doing sun salutation, he went to the bathroom and took a quick shower before drying off and getting dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. Carrie was still curled up under the covers, features peaceful and open in sleep. His heart lurched at the sight of her. He moved to her side of the bed and bent down and pressed a kiss to her temple.

She sighed and again his heart skipped a beat. “Gorgeous,” he whispered. His skin tingled from wanting to feel her bare skin against his. He wanted to hold her in his arms again in the afterglow and feel her as she calmed down and slipped into sleep. The dragon was quiet within him. It had been sated after last night. He and his dragon couldn’t go two months without seeing her again. It would mean less money, but in the end, it would be worth it. Their mating was still new, despite their years of friendship. Their confessions showed him that they still needed to do more in the way of bonding. Yesterday was a start.

He bent down again and kissed her temple before pulling himself away from her side. He made his way downstairs to cook breakfast. A little food in bed and letting her relax was in order. Soon enough the other hunters would return, and he’d have to deal with all the noise, recaps, and calls from prospective or old clients. A little more of just the two of them time would be nice.

He put some cinnamon rolls in the oven and started making bacon, maybe some scrambled eggs and a glass of orange juice. He couldn’t forget the coffee. The phone in their office rang. He rushed over and picked up the cordless line and dashed back to the kitchen.

“Bolton.” He flipped over a slice of bacon and jumped to the side to avoid the fat popping.

“It’s Jesse. I’ve got a job for you.”

Dean looked toward the stairs; Carrie hadn’t rushed down from the bedroom, thank Goddess. He turned off the stove and headed to the office. “Let me get a pen and a pad. How bad is it?”

Hunters didn’t say hello or good-bye. Wasted words when information and communication were key. He felt himself shift from ease, bathing in the afterglow, to job mode. His emotions sealed themselves away, and his body tensed, ready for action. He grabbed a pad of sticky notes and a pencil and listened.

“Not too bad, just a poltergeist infestation. Old, rich witch bigwig. More a curry favor job than anything. In Detroit, Grosse Point area. Job pays ten clams just to show up. Fifty if you get the job done. An extra twenty if you get it done in less than a week. Sent you your boarding pass and directions already.” Jesse hung up before Dean could ask about anything else.

Rather than pack now and wake Carrie up, he’d finish breakfast and pack while she ate. This way he could explain and take care of her at the same time. The dragon grumbled within; a sense of anticipation rushed through Dean’s veins. He finished off the bacon, took the buns out of the oven, and mixed up the scrambled eggs. His brain went through the list of things he needed for the job: holy water, iron, salt, and a few incantations to not only drive the überghostie away but also keep it out. Most people thought it was the religious stuff that got the paranormal out. That worked on lower-level baddies. To fight power, a hunter had to bring in the big guns: magic. The older religions and cults had far more power and had been around for far longer than anything humans had seen.

A well-practiced hunter could pull the ties to the earth and use them to banish, trap, or even control and direct a ghost or poltergeist. He’d know what to do when he got to Detroit. Eagerness filtered through his body. He plated the food and headed upstairs to find Carrie awake and dressed. She sat on the bed, watching TV.

“Morning, minx. Breakfast. I have to tell you something.” He set the tray down next to her and pressed a kiss on her temple.

“You’ve got a job and need to pack now? I heard the phone. What is it? Details please.” She placed the tray on her lap and dug in.

“Spoilsport. Poltergeist, up in Detroit. Jesse’s recommendation. Curry favor with a local bigwig witch. Possible grab job where we get ourselves a ghostie to use as we please.” He took out a large overnight bag and then opened the drawers and the closet door.

“You want to bring a ghost here? To play with?” She sounded calm, reasonable.

“Just to see if we can do something with it. Use it for odd jobs. Yes or no?” He glanced over at her to see how she looked.

Her features were open, her thoughts drifting across her face easy to read, but he wanted to hear her say it. “I’ll get the books out, but you have to keep me informed. We have to set rules for this.”

He’d expected that. “Go ahead.” He went back to packing.

“One, you tell me how you’re doing. Keep the lines open between us. No shutting me down.” Her voice was solid, tone brokering no argument.

He couldn’t argue with her there. “Done.”

“Not done. We’ll see when you you’re out on the road. These buns from the can? Did you do something?”

He glanced over at her. Her eyes were closed, bliss on her face, a smile on her lips as she chewed.

“Yeah, why?” He couldn’t understand what she was so happy about, but then again it’d been quite some time since he’d had a cinnamon bun.

“Nothing extra? Weird. Just tastes better.” She licked her lips and bit into another one.

“Maybe ’cause it’s made with love,” he threw out. A laugh bubbled up until it spilled out of him. He couldn’t stop it.

“Could be. Anyway, you should eat before you go. I’ll go print out your boarding pass.” She moved the tray to the nightstand, got out of bed, stood up, grabbed her plate, and left. “You need to cook more often, dragon. Waste of talent,” she called over her shoulder.

“In other words, you want me to slave away in the kitchen. I see how it goes.” He grinned. Their world felt right again—not like it was before, but more open and better, more honest. He’d survived telling her about Dalton, and she hadn’t run away or thought him cowardly, and he’d learned that he could give control to her without feeling any less masculine. That, and it was damn sexy having her on top of him, controlling his pleasure. They would have to do it again when he got back. But first he needed to get this job done and follow the new rules.

Once he was all packed, he changed his clothes and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Carrie had finished off her plate and held his boarding pass in hand, waving it around. He strode toward her and stopped in front of her. Her body heat seeped into him, and he could smell a hint of her arousal combined with vanilla and cinnamon.

“Thanks for breakfast. Hurry back, okay, and be safe? Go with the goddess.” She rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips. He tasted the buns and orange juice.

He growled, wrapped an arm around her waist, and drew her against him. “You need to give me something better than that.”

He bent his head and kissed her lips, testing the firmness of her mouth, teasing the seam with his tongue until she opened up for him, and he sank it into her mouth to tease and twine against hers. The flavors of breakfast bloomed on his taste buds. He groaned, dropped his bag, and slipped his fingers in her hair while holding her chin with his now freed hand. She hugged him and held him to her body. Her breasts cushioned his chest. His cock thickened as his jeans tightened. For a moment, he allowed himself to melt into the feel of her body and her warmth. He felt safe and centered and grounded. Before he could forget about his job and be late to board the plane, he pulled away. He brushed a quick kiss on her lips.

“Later, when I get back,” he promised.

“Follow the rules and you may get an extra little something.” Her eyes sparkled, and her skin glowed with a gentle fairy light. Her plump lips looked red and bruised.

Pride swelled in his chest at the sight of sleepy arousal in her eyes. “Oh, I’ll be good. Gotta go. Don’t want to be late. We could be getting a nice payoff for this, which means a vacation maybe.”

He hadn’t thought of it before, but now that he’d said it, he wanted it. They could leave the business to one of the resident hunters, find a temp to handle the office work, and go away for a week or two, just the two of them. He’d saved up enough to give her a relaxing weekend at a spa or bed-and-breakfast or combo of both.

Her eyes lit up, and she gifted him with a large grin that made his heart skip a beat. “Deal, but you still have to follow the rules.”

He decided to get cheeky with her. “Remind me what they are again.”

She lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not funny, and just for that, I’ll add a few. One, call me and let me know how you’re doing—not just about the how the job is going, but you. If you can’t call, e-mail me. If you can’t do either of those for some reason, have Jesse or one of the hunters in our network contact me to let me know what’s going on. If it gets too hot, don’t be afraid to ask for help. And last but not least, kick its ass and bring it home. I’ll contact the local coven to see if they can help us with some sort of incantation to help us control it. Now go.” She gave him a slap on the ass that sent a wave of heat through his groin.

His semihard cock jerked, and he let out a groan. “Tease.” He bent down and gave her a kiss before leaving the kitchen. This job needed to end quickly.

* * * *

Dean had been gone for two days, and he’d checked in both days so far, twice a day. A preliminary survey of the problem showed there was a poltergeist, but it wouldn’t be too bad since the ghost seemed to like to throw soft, squishy items. A score in Carrie’s opinion. He said the job would take at least two days, three, max. The first ten thousand had been deposited into their bank account already, which was good.

Carrie still worried about his safety. He had Jesse helping him and acting as backup, but just because the thing liked to throw pillows didn’t mean it wouldn’t graduate to bigger, heavier objects. Despite her calm, her stomach turned, and nervousness erupted when she thought of him far from home.

The phone rang, and she dashed for it, ignoring the looks the few hunters who were home gave her as she rushed past them. “Dean?”

“Hey, minx. Job done. I’m filthy, covered in pudding and cubes of blueberry-flavored Jell-O. Don’t ask. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Jesse is laughing his ass off, and the owner of the house is rolling on the floor. I need a shower, but we have a poltergeist, trapped and ready for the coven. I’m going to get cleaned up. I’ll be leaving early, so I’ll be home by four in the morning. Don’t wait up. God, I’m sticky, and I feel disgusting. Later.”

Through the phone she could hear male and female mirth. “Later, dragon.”

As she hung up, she heard him growl. “I will barbecue you both if you don’t stop laughing at me. Don’t make me release the damn ghost. Let’s see how you like blueberry gelatin in your hair.”

She chuckled and shook her head. It looked like she and Dean would need to make sure the washing machine and dryer were free. She left her office to find a group of hunters watching her with anxious expressions on their faces. “No worries, guys,” she started out. “Just make sure you have your clothes cleaned up. He’s coming back with pudding and Jell-O-coated clothing.”

A collective groan went up.

“But I need to wash my bedding and curtains,” one of the hunters complained.

“And I was hoping to finally do my laundry. If you hog the washer, how am I supposed to wash my shit?” another person demanded.

Carrie held up her hands. “You.” She pointed to the hunter who last spoke. “Do your laundry now. After she’s done, you do your bedding and curtains. Since we’ll be smudging in the next few days, get the stuff you want to have cleaned out of negative energy ready. Anyone else have any other concerns?”

They grumbled but said nothing.

Carrie rolled her eyes and shooed them off. “All right, off with you.”

As soon as everyone had left, she headed upstairs to Dean’s room and took out the basket. She hadn’t broken down the box yet, not sure if he wanted to use it for something else. She rummaged around in each egg until she figured out what she wanted to use for his reward. There was a fantasy she’d never told him about. They’d flirted with bondage, but she only used Velcro with him. Emotion filled her chest. She sucked in some air and selected the padded hand and ankle cuffs with the padlock and keys. Carrie ran a finger over the edge of the leather cuff. The smooth texture teased her skin. Inside was lamb’s wool to ensure that the wearer wouldn’t get hurt.

* * * *

Dean trudged up the stairs. He had a crick in his neck, and the damn poltergeist trapped in a jewelry box kept shaking his bag. His shoes squished when he walked. The beastie had gotten hold of some pudding and poured it into his shoes when he wasn’t looking. It could’ve been worse. He knew that. This ghost had only been interested in harmless pranks and throwing pillows and stuffed animals. The witch who’d called on Jesse’s help hadn’t minded the company so much, since she lived alone, but that didn’t mean she wanted to go to bed with strawberry jam stuffing her pillowcases or mashed-up bananas filling her bathtub. Her boiling point had been reached when the thing steeped all her expensive loose-leaf tea in the toilet. She had called Jesse, and in turn his friend had called him. Easy money, sure, but messy money too.

All Dean wanted to do was clean up, throw his slop-covered clothing into the washing machine, and climb into bed with Carrie. Maybe have a little sexy fun tomorrow. For now, some much-needed rest in his own bed. His bag rattled once again, and Dean hit it in the side. “Calm down. You’ll be out in a day or two,” he grumbled.

Carrie had texted him that the witches would be at the house tomorrow. The box stopped shaking, and Dean had reached his bedroom door. With a grunt, he pushed it open and headed for the bathroom. Shower first. He’d been too tired to check to see if Carrie was in his bed. Being on the brink of exhaustion dulled his senses. Even the dragon was worn out. He started the water and dropped his bag near the door. He unzipped it and brought out the five-by-ten-inch package and checked the seals. Nothing broken or cracked, all intact. “Look, I know, it’s a cramped space, but soon you’ll be able to get out and stretch your legs or whatever. Just go to sleep, okay?”

He didn’t expect an answer, nor did the box or ghost give him one. Like most paranormal beings, ghosts were pains in the ass. He put down the jewelry box and stripped out of his clothes, stepped into the shower cubicle, and shut the door. He let out a moan of bliss as the hot water hit his skin. Jesse’s place had iffy water; you were lucky to get hot, warm, or even lukewarm water. He couldn’t wait to crawl into bed and drift off to sleep on a mattress that didn’t have a lumps in it or a stray spring that poked him in the back.

Most importantly, he was looking forward to holding Carrie in his arms. He’d called her to let her know when he left Jesse’s, as soon as he arrived at the airport, and after he landed. He’d gotten a voice mail each time. It didn’t bother him; there were hunters in the house who needed her to take care of billing issues with clients or book jobs for them or call in their various contacts for help on a job. It just felt good to be under the same roof with her once again. Having his mate nearby set his soul at ease and made his dragon less antsy. A little laundry, some yoga, and then off to bed. Maybe he’d go to her room instead of his and wrap his body around hers just to feel her in his arms once more.

He washed his body and then focused on his hair. No matter what he did, he didn’t feel clean enough where that was concerned. The ghost had loved dumping full bowls of stuff on him. Even after trapping the thing, he’d found bits and pieces of food in his tresses. Hopefully the witches could break it of that habit.

Once he was sure that his hair had been thoroughly cleaned, he rinsed and then stepped out of the space and dried off. The box rattled and he ignored it. Later.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and padded out to his bedroom. His bed wasn’t as empty as he’d thought. Carrie lay on her side, under the covers, sound asleep. He smiled as his heart melted. He dressed in sweats and tiptoed out of the room, trying not to wake her. If his dragon were capable of it, the beast would purr. For the first time he could see the benefits of having a mate; not just the sex or being alone, but having someone to wait for him at home and make him feel wanted and loved. For so long he’d been isolated, opening up a tiny bit when he’d mated to Carrie.

He wasn’t alone. They weren’t alone. They had friends. His life wasn’t as bad as he’d allowed himself to think it was. This wasn’t just a job; it was family.

As he made his way down to the laundry room, he passed one of their usual hunters, Anson, just coming upstairs.

Anson gave him a nod. “Hey, boss. Job summary on Carrie’s desk to be filed for research in the morning. I’m going to go catch some z’s. Battled a gnarly sludge monster and I’m exhausted. Later.” He clunked up the stairs, travel bag in one hand, apple in the other.

Dean smiled. He headed into the laundry, dumped his clothes into the washer and started the machine. His mind worked over the changes he’d felt in the last two weeks. He was more open, settled, and at ease. Even being away from Carrie was easier because he knew she’d be there when he returned, and she was safe. He could exhale and not worry. When he gave it more thought, he realized that Carrie would always be protected, whether he was there or the other hunters were; someone would be around just in case, and they could possibly turn to the town for help. Despite his good mood, he felt as if he’d overlooked something. The washer buzzed, and he retrieved his laundered clothes and threw them into the dryer.

He knew he had to talk to Carrie, but that would wait until tomorrow. She was asleep, and he had no intention of waking her up. He went into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. The dryer dinged, so he got his clothes and began to fold them. Once he finished there he returned to the kitchen and rinsed his plate, put it in the dishwasher, then returned to the laundry room and grabbed his basket and headed upstairs.

The light was on and Carrie was awake, sitting up against the pillows. “Why didn’t you wake me up? When did you get in?”

He put down the basket and went to her, bent, and dropped kisses on her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. “I got in an hour or so ago. You were asleep. Didn’t want to wake you up.” He brushed away a few stray tendrils of hair. Her skin glowed, and her eyes were filled with a soft glimmer of sleep and desire. Warmth cascaded through him. “What are you thinking, minx?”

Crimson flushed her cheeks. Rather than answer him, she leaned past him and grabbed the deck of truth or dare cards and held out the pile to him. Amused, he picked the top card, turned it over, and read it before he showed it to her. “‘Tie down your partner and have your wicked way with them.’ Is this what you want?” He didn’t doubt she’d stacked the deck to have that one particular scenario on top.

“Yes.” Her voice came out in a husky whisper. “I’ve always wanted you to be in charge of our lovemaking. Just wasn’t sure how to say it.” She gave him a shy smile.

He frowned. “But I’ve been in charge before. What would be different now?” He couldn’t see what had changed.

“I fully trust you now. Before, I held back. I couldn’t give you all of me, but now I can relax fully. Let you take care of me. I’m open to whatever you have in mind.” Confusion darted across her face. “I don’t know how to explain it. The words aren’t coming.” She nibbled her bottom lip.

“Would it help to have you show me?” He knew that sometimes when the words didn’t come, demonstrating for a person could help.

She nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Okay.” He stripped out of his shirt.

“That’s enough for now. What do I do?” As he waited for her to reply, he walked over to the nightstand and got a condom. “Tie me down. Use the handcuffs.” She bent her head toward the nightstand.

He noticed that the minx had laid out the implements she wanted him to use on her: a vibrating anal plug, nipple clamps, the leather handcuffs, and a blindfold. He picked up each item and examined them. “Are you sure you want to use those cuffs?” He didn’t want her wrists to be chafed or for her to hurt herself if she pulled too hard.

She gave him a small smile, her eyes full of trust and features relaxed. “No. I want you to use them. We haven’t before.”

The statement hung between them. She was right. He’d always gone for something padded and soft. “Okay.” He examined the anal plug next. It was thicker than he usually used on her, but he said nothing about her choice. He paused at the nipple clamps. They hadn’t used those before either. The clamps were coated in vinyl and were connected by a chain with a light weight that dropped down the middle. He hadn’t realized that this had been included in his cache in the Easter eggs. Another little surprise. He shook his head. One more reason to send a thank-you note. Even if he couldn’t find the site, he’d just wait until next year.

“Are you sure? What’s your safe word?” He watched as she pulled up her T-shirt and slipped her panties down. She tossed both to the floor. He chuckled. “Eager, are you?”

“Yes and my safe word is crystal.” Her eyes burned with determination and passion.

He nodded. “We’re not going to do a typical bondage scene here. Your wrists will be bound, but you won’t be blindfolded. Your legs will be free. All you have to do is hold on to the bedposts when I tell you and follow my directions. You just have to trust me.”

“I trust you.” Her face was open, all emotions exposed to him. He could see her words were true. She gave him the handcuffs and clamps.

“Good. Lie back, stretch your hands over your head, and breathe.”

She followed his directions without a word of complaint. Curiosity flared in her eyes, but she didn’t ask. Dean put down the pincers and opened the handcuffs. He got up onto the bed, straddled her stomach, leaned over her body, and slipped the bonds on her wrists but didn’t tether them to the bedposts. He wanted her to be able to move her arms and put them around him when they made love. Once done, he bent down and kissed the insides of her wrists, going up the undersides of her forearms, then teased the inside of her elbows with swift laps and nipped his way along her biceps. Dean placed butterfly touches with his lips along the sides of her breasts, peppering her chest with lightning-quick touches of his tongue and mouth. He kissed his way between the valley of her breasts and nibbled the undersides of the globes. He took his time moving down her body, rubbing his cotton covered legs against hers. She tasted of salt and spice. Dean swirled the tip of his tongue around her bellybutton before kissing his way back up to focus on her breasts. Her breasts were heavy in his hands. Unable to resist, he tongued the tightened peaks until they hardened further. She writhed beneath his ministrations. Cries and groans filled his ears as he went from one mound and reached over and picked up the nipple clamps. Once he was sure she was on edge, he opened one clamp and secured it to her diamond-hard tip. She gasped.

He paused to look up and study her face. Pain flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t use her safe word. Her gaze met his. “Keep going.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. Even more respect for her bloomed in his chest. He repeated his ministrations with her other nipple before putting on the next compression. Another gasp, but still she didn’t say her safe word. He positioned the chain to lie so that it bisected her torso and the weight attached to the clamps lay on her stomach. He looked down and watched the rise and fall of her tummy and wondered about her nipples’ sensitivity. Did she feel the pull on the tender tips? Did it enhance her arousal? Add to the stimulation? He could only imagine. “How does it feel for you? Good? Hurt?”

“A little pain and it’s hot and I can feel the movement of my belly. I like it.” Her hips rocked. “And the heat shoots to my clit. Dean, please.” She moved again.

He smiled. “Patience.” He bent down and kissed his way over her stomach again before he paused to take the weight between his teeth and give it a tug. She groaned and arched her chest. He didn’t go back, instead continuing downward to her hip, tracing his tongue over the juncture before he kissed and nipped along her inner thigh.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” she chanted.

He absorbed her words and repeated the process on her other leg until her heels dug into the bedspread and unearthly noises filled the air, some of them made by him. She tasted of light and earth, of musk and salt. He breathed in the spice of her arousal and magic. As he gazed up her body from between her legs, he could see her fairy light sparkling on her skin. He didn’t want the soft glow; he wanted her to be ablaze with light as she came. Determination filled him to give her the biggest orgasm he could.

He parted her puffy labia, exposing her hardened clit to the air. He blew on the bud; then he buried his head between her legs, and teased the bundle of nerves before sucking it into his mouth. He sank first one, then two fingers into her tight channel. Her vaginal walls rippled around the invasion as he pumped the digits, thrusting deeper and taking his time on the withdrawal. He ignored the throbbing of his dick and focused on pleasing her.

Carrie rocked her hips against his mouth. Her juices stained his lips and coated his chin as she grew closer to her climax. Her cries and his grunts and the wet sounds of his actions filled the air. When he felt her internal muscles clamp down on his fingers, he pulled them out and moved away from her wet slit.

“Dean!” She lifted her head and looked at him. Anger blazed in her eyes.

It wasn’t enough. He wanted her screaming until her voice was raw and there was no sound left. He moved back to the sensitive button, sucking, then laving it, pushing her further and further, forcing her to cry out, to thrash and groan. He worked her clit and her pussy as her legs shook around him. With a growl he finger fucked her harder, faster. Still not enough. He released her clit with a pop, got to his knees, shoved down his sweatpants until he could free his hard-on, and settled onto his heels. He ripped open the foil and rolled the condom onto his throbbing cock.

“Sit up,” he commanded, not caring that his voice sounded too deep and rough to be his own. Fire blazed along his spine as electric sparks danced on his skin. Sweat misted his overheated flesh, and he felt as if a fever had lit him from the inside out. The only cure: fucking Carrie until she came all over his cock. He watched her scramble up. Her breasts jiggled and the weight bounced. She let out a whimper.

He ignored the sounds and the wild look in her eyes. “Put your arms around me.”

He ducked until she could drop her arms, still shackled by the handcuffs, around his neck. He pulled her onto his lap, slid one of his legs out and swung it around until it was stretched out in front of him, then did the same to the other, careful to keep her settled on his legs. Once she was in place, he lowered her until her pussy lips kissed the head of his cock, bathing the wide crest in her cream. He gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together until they hurt as the surge of need rose up and almost snapped his control. Desire burned in swirling patterns throughout his chest as his blood threatened to burn to ashes. His balls throbbed for release. He danced on a knife’s edge between coming and disgracing himself, losing all-out control.

Carrie curled her fingers into his hair. She grabbed a handful and yanked on it hard, pulling his thoughts back from the brink. “Dean.”

“Yes?” he managed to say.

“Fuck. Me,” she uttered before she mashed her lips to his in a biting, demanding, branding kiss that short-circuited his brain cells and broke through all of his walls to reach into the primal part of himself he always kept back.

She pulled her head away. “Own me, dragon.”

He didn’t need to hear any more. He thrust as he lowered her onto his thickened shaft. She wrapped her legs around him and squeezed her vaginal muscles. They moved together as she took his lips once again, this time for a gentler but no less owning kiss. Their tongues danced and twisted as her nipples raked his chest. He released one of her hips to unfasten first one pincer, then the other. He felt her pussy spasm around his cock. A roar began in his chest as fire blazed up his throat and poured from his mouth into hers. Dean didn’t break his kiss; instead he opened his eyes and was almost blinded by her fairy light. She was aglow as her magic came alive to tickle its way down his back to his testicles. He didn’t stop the burn as he became consumed in an inferno. His cock thickened and jerked in her tight sheath, and he came, shooting jets of cum into the condom. As the air thinned and his energy began to recede, he looked at her, taking in the sight of her as she found her magic.

Tears traced her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered before she buried her head in his shoulder. Moisture burned his own eyes. For a moment at least, she had her fairy light. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“No thanks needed, amore.” He held her to him as the afterglow and the fatigue kicked in. With great care, he kept them connected as he rolled them onto their sides, facing each other. They stayed that way until she fell asleep. Reluctantly he pulled out of her and unlocked the cuffs. Concern filled him at seeing the reddened skin. He massaged her wrists, vowing to be gentler on the next round. He went through his clean-up routine with her, taking his time despite the urge to feel her in his arms once more. Awe and love filled him as he gazed down at her body. So open and vulnerable and all his.

He finished his ministrations, put the towel back into the bathroom, and climbed into bed with her. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her body heat and weight against him. He sighed. Dean was home with his mate. All was good in the world.

Chapter Seven

After Easter

Carrie awoke the next morning with a smile on her face. She stretched and groaned as the vertebrae in her spine popped. She crawled out of the bed, mindful of Dean, who continued to snore on. He moved to her side of the bed and wrapped his arms around her pillow and cuddled it. He buried his head in it, inhaling deeply before he stopped moving. Once she stood up, her muscles cried out as aches made themselves known. Her wrists and nipples didn’t hurt; that was something.

Last night had been incredible. She’d never trusted a lover so much. She had let Dean guide her, take control, and make decisions, and all she’d had to do was follow his lead. He hadn’t steered her wrong. The pleasures she’d found using nipple clamps had made her curious about what else they could do. When he’d removed the pincers, the intensity of sensation had left her holding on by her fingernails as she tried to stave off her orgasm. She’d felt as if she’d been sent flying into the unknown before she’d floated down to bathe in the afterglow. Moving, even thinking had been difficult for her. All she could do was slip off into slumber, knowing that when she woke up, Dean would be there.

She was thankful that Dean had taken the lead as he did. She hadn’t been able to fully express what it meant for her to submit to him, not just give in to her fantasies but allow him to take care of her, trust that he wouldn’t abuse the gift she was giving him. The manifestation of her powers for that one intense moment had been glorious, but she doubted if she’d get an experience like that again. There was much she needed to research. Both of them, in fact, had to figure out their pasts. At least she wasn’t alone.

She gave Dean’s sleeping form one more glance before she headed to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she dried off, got dressed, and went down to the kitchen to start breakfast. She decided a bacon quiche was in order. As she lost herself in the prep work, she let her mind wander. In a matter of two weeks, they had come a long way. She and Dean could talk, communicate more—there were no walls—and he was more relaxed, less stressed. It made her heart happy to see that. In the end she wanted what was best for him and for herself. They both needed love and acceptance, to be heard, and now they had it.

“Morning, minx.” Dean slid up behind her and pressed a kiss to her nape. “That looks good.”

“Morning, dragon. Of course it does. It’s your recipe, and I’m not finished yet. Why don’t you go set the table? Once they smell food, the others will be down ASAP.” She focused on getting the food cooked.

“I was thinking that maybe since it’s a slow time of year, and the others can handle the load if an emergency comes up, we hit the road for a month or two and try and find your people. We can stay with friends and research along the way. What do you think?” His words were careful, measured.

Joy bloomed in her chest. He was willing to take time off work to go on vacation with her. Another step in his progress as a better mate. “Of course! Yes! I would love to. When do we leave?”

Dean let out a laugh that seemed to come from his whole being. She turned to look at him. The unfiltered happiness lit up his eyes, and his features were relaxed and open.

He wiped away tears and grinned at her. “We leave in the morning. Today we prep, and I need to do something, okay?”

She returned his smile. “Yes, and it’s more than okay. Thank you!”

He shrugged. “No need to thank me, amore. It’s what mates do for each other.” He went to set up the table. It didn’t take long for him to finish. “I’ll be back in time to eat. Just have to do something.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek before he left the room.

Yes, life really had improved for them. And all because of an Easter basket.

* * * *

Dean nodded to a few of the hunters who rushed toward the kitchen in hopes of getting an early taste before all the food was gone. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. He needed to contact the Sundae’s Adult Basket website and thank them. If it weren’t for their surprises, he and Carrie wouldn’t have been able to finally open up.

He went into the office and closed the door behind him. He went behind the desk and sank down into his chair, logged in, and opened up his e-mail. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the e-mail address for Sundae’s. It wasn’t a No Reply type, but he didn’t need a response. All he needed was for his message to get there. He started his message without thought, letting his fingers flow over the keys.

To whom it may concern,

I just wanted to drop you a note to say thank you for the extras you included in my basket. My mate and I loved them and put them to good use. Because of your surprises I can now talk to her without walls. There was so much hurt between us and the truth or dare cards helped us not only face ourselves but our pasts and our true desires. So this is me, saying thank you. I aim to recommend your site to everyone I think could use that special Essie touch.

Sincerely,

Dean

He read it over a few times and then hit Send. Tomorrow he and Carrie would be off on their journey to discover and reconcile their pasts and heal wounds, but more importantly they would continue the bonding process and tear down more walls. He had never thought he could have this life with a mate and safety and a home, but he had it, and he wasn’t going to let anything take that away from him. They had their lives and their love. No walls, no distance. Just them. And that was more than enough.

Loose Id Titles by Selena Illyria

Thawing Ava

* * * *

The BLOOD CLAIM Series

Trapped

Prelude

Tainted

* * * *

Stacking the Deck

(an Eostre’s Baskets story)

Selena Illyria

Multi-published author, part vampire, part pixie, Selena Illyria was born with a need to write and enable. Her imagination takes her into the paranormal, sci-fi and fantasy genres and all sorts of mischief. When not writing she enjoys catching up on her TBR pile, watching some of her favorite programs, and listening to her favorite music, as well as teasing people with posts on decadent food and plot bunnies.

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Table of Contents

- Title Page

- Stacking the Deck (An Eostre’s Baskets Story)

- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Loose Id Titles by Selena Illyria
- Selena Illyria