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  Dragon Master

  Jory Strong

  Supernatural Bonds, Book Nine

  Nothing is more cherished than a mate, no treasure more valued or sought after than the perfect match. With a glance at Summer’s picture, Jubal recognizes not only his intended, but a submissive whose body cries out for discipline. There’s no question about claiming her, and when he spots her entering an exclusive BDSM club, he believes it’s Fate. Summer can’t get past the foyer without a master—and that master will be him.

  At the sound of Jubal’s voice, she knows he’s the one, the man she’s been searching for, the master who can demand her devotion. Any other time she’d gladly surrender her trust and her heart, as well as her body, but tonight it’s an urgent task and not the search for pleasure that’s brought her to the club.

  She’s been warned about dragons. And even believing Jubal might be just such a supernatural being doesn’t lessen the ecstasy she experiences in his hands. His carnal discipline and heady torment satisfy her—even as they force her to choose between risking it all or not.

  DRAGON MASTER

  Jory Strong

  Chapter One

  Jubal watched as Lyra disappeared into a dragon’s den, or more accurately Tielo’s suite, including office and attached bedroom. The little human was about to learn just how risky it was to play dragon games, especially with a male who had finally recognized her for what she was, his true mate.

  What foolishness. He’d watched in amazement as Tielo fought the attraction and failed to acknowledge it until it had nearly been too late. And for a time he would have been all too willing to take what Tielo hadn’t admitted wanting.

  Had he claimed Lyra for his own, as his cock had urged him to from the first moment he saw her, he would never have regretted it or considered that another might suit him better. But Fates be praised, for once, that he’d been knocked out of the poker game and sent from the table, because rather than defeat, he’d won the greatest of victories.

  Summer. Her name resonated through him, turning Lyra’s into a mere whisper of connection and gratitude. The moment she’d shown him the picture of her sister, all other women had ceased to exist.

  His! The truth of it resonated throughout, every instinct, every dream, every desire coalescing in a single magical, soul-deep proclamation.

  He wanted to pounce. To nuzzle and lick and bite. To taste and fuck. To thoroughly dominate.

  His nostrils flared as he imagined Summer naked, a sapphire collar tight around her neck, proclaiming to everyone who saw her exquisite beauty that she belonged to him.

  He knew what she was with a single glance. Not just his mate, but his to do with as he pleased, to enjoy in all the ways he might choose, to take pleasure from and give pleasure to.

  Around him, more than one male radiated envy and frustration that the first of the females brought to Drake’s Lair specifically for the purpose of being claimed was now in another’s possession. He would have counted himself among them only moments earlier, but not now.

  Lyra was meant for a silver-and-gold dragon. How Pierce, co-owner of the club along with Tielo, had known it and made sure males with first forms of that color were present at Drake’s Lair, was a question others could ask. He had a far more urgent one.

  His hand tightened on the slim jewelry case in his jacket pocket. I think you’d come to regret giving this to me, Lyra had said, refusing his gift, then showing him the truth of his destiny with a candid beach photograph catching the sultry Summer, eyes downcast as a submissive’s would be, body calling out for a master.

  Not just any master, but one willing to discipline her. One who would take pleasure in exhibiting her and demonstrating his ownership by commanding her as others watched her perfect behavior. He’d been in this human realm long enough to know such things about a woman just by looking at her, even if the female didn’t know it herself.

  And Summer… His cock spasmed at contemplating her image. The press of a tiny bikini against smooth skin, the material dampened by ocean spray in a wet caress that revealed nipples decorated with jewelry to accompany the flash of silver at her navel. And more—hints of a clitoral hood piercing.

  He fought against a shudder of anticipation as desire roared through him in a dragon flame of possessive lust. He stiffened against the need to grasp his cock and stroke it as he imagined burying it in Summer’s mouth, her heated slit, her tight ass.

  Had they been elsewhere, he might have questioned Lyra about her sister before being forced behind the velvet rope separating the poker game from the gathered audience, but not in a club full of dragon males. And not on this night, when the majority of those present wanted to claim a mate and were driven not just by biological imperative but by a fear none of them would openly admit to having—that the Dragon’s Cup would disappear again.

  He resisted the rage that always accompanied any thought of the wizard Enos, who had long ago tied dragon fertility magic to an accursed chalice. For hundreds of years it’d been lost after first passing through the hands of the fey, who had used the cup for their entertainment at orgies that spilled over into the human realm.

  Now it was recovered. Jubal glanced toward the alcove where it sat on a pedestal, guarded by magic as well as dragon males. Death would come swiftly to anyone who tried to steal the chalice, though all knew there would be attempts, especially by the fey.

  Pierce emerged from Tielo’s suite of rooms. He was accompanied by those who’d carried the racks of golden coins used as gaming chips at Drake’s Lair into the office, after Tielo had so cleverly maneuvered his future mate into taking their game private. There’d soon be a call for the cup to ensure future offspring, followed by a trip to the dragon realm to solidify the magical bond between Tielo and Lyra.

  Heat pooled in Jubal’s testicles as he imagined Summer in his arms, helpless because she’d felt the rake of his mating spurs across her skin, delivering ecstasy along with the serum that would make her biologically compatible to one day carry a dragon’s young. Despite an earlier claim of wanting at least ten children, he was in no hurry to procreate—only to involve himself in the activities that led to it.

  His hand tightened on the jewelry case as he forced his mind away from what he would soon be doing to, and with, Summer. He cast a glance around, a fiery, silent order to those anxious to learn when additional females would visit the club, to stand back and allow him first access to Pierce.

  Smoke escaped in streams of protest from more than one of the males. In his mind, Summer was already claimed, but he knew as well as they did that possession, in this case, would be the law. There would be no dragon guards present to enforce a sanctuary period. The first male who got to her could do as their kind had done in times past, simply carry her off to his lair, willing or not, conscious or not.

  He didn’t know how many others had also seen the picture of Summer. But he did know he could trust no one, save for those who already had mates and those whose liege service he held.

  The others yielded ground—for the moment. He was not yet the power that princes Severn, Hakon and Malik were in this realm, but he was not a male to carelessly or casually offend.

  Apparently Pierce had anticipated his request. The fey, one of the few Sidhe his kind trusted, held up his hand, signaling a halt before Jubal could demand a private meeting and enough information about Lyra so he could find her sister. Now. Because he feared losing her. Because dragon nature and rigid cock demanded he get to his mate and take possession of her immediately.

  “Allow me to make some calls, Jubal,” Pierce said.

  Jubal’s nostrils flared. His body vibrated with a twisting tension, a tight coil as dragon will slammed into the magical construct of his human shell. Others would already be usin
g what resources they had in this realm to search for Summer, ignoring completely that Lyra had shown him the picture, had promised to introduce him to her sister. But he would wait. Pierce had proven himself to be a friend to dragons, and given that he must have known something about Lyra prior to her arrival, it was possible he’d learned of the sister already. Possibly he’d set lesser fey to tracking Summer, or even arranged for a witch to scry should events unfold as they had.

  Pierce disappeared into his office, closing the door after him. Jubal swallowed flame rather than send a stream of it after the fey lord, though in all likelihood, given Pierce’s affinity to fire, the door would survive the blast.

  His patience was tested to the extreme as one minute became two and then three, stretching into seven and eight and nine. He prowled. If much more time passed, he would see just how well warded Pierce and his door were against dragon fury.

  Grinding his teeth together, Jubal fought the heart-stopping images of Summer being snatched by one of the others, covered by another in both human and dragon form. It would be a return to the old days if that happened, when it was a common belief that if a human female survived the shock of being carried off by a terrifying beast and came to accept that mate, she would eventually bond with a new mate after the first one was dispatched and his treasure stolen.

  * * * * *

  Summer parked in one of the spots reserved for nightclub employees. She was almost sorry she wasn’t working tonight. Almost. Rockets was packed and the band was a good one. The tips would have been excellent, but missing a full moon and the chance to ride some amazing waves beneath it… No contest. She didn’t get the chance to do much good night surfing anymore.

  Entering through the front rather than going around back, she was immediately sucked into the heat generated by a slow song and a dance floor full of couples—gay and heterosexual alike. Longing filled her, sending an ache flaring through her pussy and breasts, desire heightened at watching the grind of bodies, the rub and press of cock to cunt and cock to cock, accompanied by deep, drugging kisses.

  The only thing wrong with the scene was all the clothing. It turned her on to watch and be watched, for which she was glad. If she’d never given in to the urge to explore that desire by going to a BDSM club, then she might still be struggling to understand her sexuality and accept it.

  Luckily she was okay with who she was and what she needed. She wanted to belong to a man, to be his possession totally and completely, subject to his desires and his discipline. To wear his collar like a slave and to call him master. Not twenty-four seven, but at home and at the club, as it suited both of them, and that was the beauty of the BDSM lifestyle—those involved in a relationship could define what it meant to them and how they wanted to live it.

  She was no pain slut wanting to explore the extreme edges of the lifestyle, but being bound, feeling the lash of a flogger or belt, the heat of a palm or a paddle against her ass, the shove of a man’s cock or the insertion of toys at his command… Yeah, that did it for her. She got wet just thinking about it.

  The need was always there, building without finding either complete or permanent relief. For a slave she was pretty damn choosey. But then, she wasn’t looking to play with a lot of different men. Casual play didn’t really satisfy her though she did engage in it sometimes, to take the edge off when it got to the point where she couldn’t stand it anymore.

  Face it, girl, you’re a one-man woman looking for Mr. Right. She grimaced at imagining what her mother would say if she knew just where the hunt for him was taking place. Then gave a soft laugh because, thanks to the lifestyle, Summer believed she’d actually know her master when she met him. It’d be lust at first sight, sure, but there’d also be recognition on a deeper level, something that transcended the “getting to know you” date-dance of a vanilla couple.

  Winding her way through the tightly packed tables, she took time to stop and chat it up with some of the regulars, hugging those who could use it, joking with others and handing out encouragement and advice. That was her calling, what she did best, being there for people and helping them where she could, sometimes only by listening. Her parents had encouraged her to get a degree in psychology and become a counselor. She’d gone to bartending school and had no regrets.

  Finally reaching the bar, she slipped behind it to open the cash register drawer and retrieve her paycheck. Simon was pulling beer from a tap. He glanced over at her. “Guess who was here earlier, bragging about going to Chains tonight?”

  Chains was BDSM for the privileged elite. One town over and not exactly a place most of the people she knew could get into. Masters and subs didn’t even clean the equipment after using it; staff took care of it between play sessions.

  “Who?”

  “Miles West.”

  Summer frowned. “With Kei?”

  “Nope. He was here with another guy, a brunette with pretty long hair and very expensive jewelry. High end and high maintenance, and well beyond Miles’ means I would have said. Every time I looked their way, Miles was doing the crotch squeeze. Seemed like they might be celebrating something.”

  Summer’s heart sank. There were times when she hated being right. This was one of them. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen Kei.”

  “Nope. No sign of him and I’m pulling a double today.”

  “Damn.” The bartending had only honed her skill when it came to judging people. Miles had rubbed her the wrong way from the very first night he’d shown up at In The Scene when she and Kei were there, then started coming to Rockets, which catered more to a gay crowd than anything else.

  He’d set off alarm bells as a manipulator working his own agenda. She’d tried to warn Kei off, but Kei was lonely and he was an adult, and at the end of the day, everybody had to make their own choices.

  Why one of the regulars at Rockets or ITS hadn’t snapped up Kei, she’d never understand. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. In the same way there were far more women on the prowl than there were decent available men, at least locally, when it came to gay men, into BDSM or not, there seemed to be far more male “bottoms” who wanted to be on the receiving end of penetration than there were “tops” who wanted to be the ones doing the fucking. And when the desire for a committed relationship was thrown into the mix, the impression of scarcity grew.

  Still, Kei was downright beautiful. He was mixed race, like her, but where she had a white father and black mother, Kei was Japanese and Irish, maybe. Probably. He was coy about his background. But his features made her think of a willowy Japanese doll, flawless skin, an exotic slant of eyes framed by thick lashes, though he had dark red hair instead of black.

  There was also a quality about him, an innocence she didn’t often encounter, almost like he’d lived in some isolated place for most of his life and had just come to the city. If she’d been a gay guy, she’d have claimed him in an instant.

  Her lips tightened as she remembered all the times she’d stopped by Kei’s shop and Miles was there. Without fail, he’d suggest the three of them do a private scene with him being the master of two fuckable slaves. He’d done it despite knowing Kei was like her—he could handle some play with others, but he wanted exclusivity when it came to his master’s cock. And no was no. She’d told Miles she wasn’t interested, would never be interested, but he wouldn’t let it go.

  She folded her check and pocketed it. “I think I’ll swing by Kei’s place to make sure he’s okay.”

  “Good idea. You going to ITS afterward?”

  “Maybe.” But probably just as a voyeur tonight.

  It took her a few minutes to get out of Rockets and over to Kei’s. She parked in front of his shop. It wasn’t in the pricey part of town, but it was close enough to the beach to attract tourists.

  The shop was dark. There was no car out front except hers since Kei didn’t drive, other than during the lessons she was giving him.

  He claimed to sell antiques. Depending on who got asked, it might be more tra
sh than treasure. She smiled, though, at seeing the old rocking horses in the window. There were three, one of which needed some serious restoration to fix the broken tail and get rid of gouges, scratches and the patches of gray wood where there was no longer any paint.

  If she had a workshop and the necessary talent, she’d love to make it a project, though Kei claimed fixing up old things actually decreased their value. She’d take her chance on the horse. There was something about it that called to her despite the fact she’d never been on a horse, never even had up-close-and-personal contact with one.

  She snickered. Well, at least not the kind of horses these icons of childhood represented. She’d been in the saddle more than once in the club’s dungeon, and she’d ridden hard.

  Her channel clenched with the memory and an all-too-familiar restlessness rolled through her, tightening her nipples in the process. She touched the front window in passing, as if she could reach through and stroke the beleaguered rocking horse. It was more wishful thinking than promise. Not that she wanted kids in the near future, but she dreamed about having a large family one day, imagined the rocking horses in childhood bedrooms, then later, as nostalgic decoration.

  Rounding the corner, she glanced upward. There was a light on in Kei’s tiny apartment. It went off as if he’d become aware of her presence and was trying to avoid contact.

  It didn’t deter her. She took the stairs two at a time, called his name when she got to the top of them and knocked on his door.

  There was no sound, not even a yell to go away.

  “Just let me in for a minute, okay?”

  Nothing.

  She pressed her ear to the wood and tried the doorknob. Locked, but she thought she heard a whimper and couldn’t shake a growing sense of urgency, the deepening conviction something was wrong.

  Was he emotionally fragile enough to attempt suicide? The possibility sent a chill through her. In her first year at Rockets one of the regulars had nearly succeeded in it after a bad breakup.