ShiftingHeat Read online

  It was almost tradition now for the winged Talents to head there. After all, Alessandro Gianetti had done the first daylight unfuzzed flight there.

  Soaring up, he effortlessly avoided the other dragons and flying creatures, enjoying their company but not feeling the need to communicate. Heaven. This part of shape-shifting had filled Andros with joy when he’d first discovered it. Countless dreams of flying just didn’t compare with the reality.

  Only when he glanced down did he realize how high he’d climbed. Above the tall buildings, even overtopping the Empire State Building, which dominated the midtown skyline. Creatures danced and soared around its spire, chasing each other or just demonstrating their skills.

  Flickers of bright light from below indicated the inevitable flashes of cameras. Tourists and locals gathered in Central Park and on top of the tall buildings, as well as the street. Some of the building owners held special late openings on the nights of the full moon each month to take advantage of the newest attraction. Sparks of light twinkled over the green swath of the park below, broken only by the calm blue-gray of the reservoir and lake. Andros could appreciate the true beauty of the park as he never had before.

  On his descent, he encountered a blue dragon, one whose scales gleamed in the waning light. He banked to avoid it but it swooped and swerved, following him, and a tingle in his mind told him she wanted to communicate. Oh yes, she. He sensed the feminine essence of her, had scented her as he passed but hadn’t wanted to intrude on anyone’s enjoyment tonight.

  Seemed she wanted to enjoy it with him. So he slowed and powered his wings, driving himself up until he floated above her, then swooped behind her to tease her with an extra surge of air to throw her slightly off course. Andros had rarely played before. Life had seemed too short for him to waste time doing anything like that. He’d taken a laptop when he’d accompanied his sister to theme parks, used the time to work on a current project, but now—now he had all the time in the world to play. Hundreds of years to learn how to do something just for the exhilaration that coursed through his veins.

  He heard her laughter in his mind. Dragons rarely used their vocal cords—a bellow, a roar, an odd clicking sound and a kind of purr were more or less the extent of their verbal skills. But their telepathy reflected all the verbal dexterity they had in their human forms. Her amusement tickled his senses, gave him a flush of arousal to add to his already heightened state.

  She swept past him, brushing his wing with hers. A sweet touch that sent shivers through him. He liked this game. He responded, twisting his flexible body around to come back at her, rushing toward her, only to soar over her head and sweep up, hovering. But dragons couldn’t hover long so he flew past her and turned.

  Not fast enough. She’d already whirled around and her body was still curved, supple and lithe. As he watched, it straightened and she flicked her tail in a cheeky demonstration of control. She didn’t try to speak to him telepathically, only sent him a warm surge of laughter, which he returned in full.

  Aerobatics were nothing new to Andros, he’d practiced plenty since his conversion last year. But doing it for sheer joy, playing with another dragon, was new to him. At least it was in this intensity. He felt a connection to her, a link he’d rarely felt since his sister fell in love and married. He wouldn’t have it any other way, seeing Ania so happy, but he’d missed her, missed their easy companionship. Not that he’d tell anyone or admit it. It would feel disloyal when she’d found such happiness.

  He wondered what this woman looked like in her human form. Almost as soon as he thought it, she sent him an image. It flicked across his mind, there and gone, teasing him with its brief appearance, but he wanted to see more. He got an impression of dark hair cut short, feathery, intense dark eyes and honeyed skin, almost Mediterranean in its warm tone. He wanted to taste. To see more, to feel more. His libido returned in force, spurring him on to take what she seemed to be offering.

  Andros sent her an image of himself as he was now. He’d long ago abandoned the pitch-black hair dye that had contrasted violently with his Polish-pale skin, so he sent her the tousled blond of his reality. His eyes, ice blue, gleamed in a face that he’d allowed to tan a little in the summer just past. He’d abandoned the emo look, although he still wore some of the clothes, but he didn’t bother with details. He sent her his face and a glimpse of his body clad in jeans and T-shirt.

  She seemed to approve. He sent her his name and received hers in return. Cara.

  Pretty.

  Their first telepathic conversation. Andros shivered, delighted by the response. Even if this came to nothing more, she’d already brightened his evening. Other flying creatures sped past them, dragons, griffins and the occasional bird, probably pissed off by this invasion of its air space. Now he’d opened his mind, fleeting images crossed it, images from the Talents and floating, random images from the less-disciplined mortals below.

  He was closer to the ground, not close enough to discern faces, but close enough to see the disparate colors where they massed. He turned his attention away from them and back to the utterly fascinating blue dragon. Cara.

  This play showed him a whole new facet of being a Talent. While everyone had treated him with friendship and kindness, nobody had shown an interest like this before. Not in him.

  When Cara fled across the park and then glanced back, he got the message. She flipped her tail at him and he followed, playfully catching up with her and then letting her get ahead. Her back view was as good as the front. Lissome, supple, mouthwatering. She sent him an image, his golden body entwined with hers, their tails wound around each other, the combined power of their wings sending them high into the blue sky. She mirrored his movements as he moved in rhythmic thrusts against her, responding by pressing close, rubbing her neck against his where the skin was at its most sensitive.

  Desire roared inside him. If he could have caught up with her, he’d have copied the actions of the dragons in the telepathic vision she’d sent him.

  Fuck. He was actually thinking about dragon sex? Andros the dragon and Cara the dragon? Most Talents preferred to make love in their human forms, but that sight made him wonder how many shape-shifters fucked in their other forms.

  She continued to send him visual messages, going from dragon embrace to human form, copying the clothes he’d used in his vision but then letting the garments grow more transparent until they disappeared, melted away and he saw his naked body caressing hers. She held up her breasts in invitation and he accepted, bent to suckle and taste.

  He hadn’t had sex for a while. He’d thought it a way of testing his resolve. Or maybe it was a bad habit he needed to break.

  No time like the present.

  He chased after her, his wings beating a breeze to stir the hair of the people below. They were still taking pictures, the flashes brighter now the natural light had faded. They sparkled after them in a wake he approved of. Benign fireworks. For the first time he wondered about the dragons-breathing-fire thing. Would it impress her? Could he do it? He had no fucking idea. Maybe. He knew how it was done, but he hadn’t tried it yet.

  She took him to the other side of the park, the West Side, and then down Eighth. Heh. It usually gave him a stupid, childish kick to go the wrong way down Eighth Avenue. Right now he didn’t give a fuck.

  He followed her to the balcony of a hotel. Not one of the spectacular five-star establishments around the Park, but a more modest place. Although to call any hotel around here modest was probably an understatement.

  He hesitated, a sense of self-preservation belatedly creeping up on him, dampening his mood. People still kidnapped Talents and imprisoned them in laboratories to experiment on them. This could be a honey trap.

  Read me, she said softly. I just like you, that’s all. I want you. Make my New York holiday special.

  He trusted his instincts and nothing alerted him to danger. His boss always told him to trust the way he felt about a person, and this person had no malice li
ngering around her.

  So he hovered above the balcony and shape-shifted, landing with a soft thump. He followed her into the dimly lit room. Only when his toes dug into the soft carpet did Andros remember that he was naked.

  She wasn’t. She stood before him wearing a silk robe. She must have shape-shifted and grabbed it before he had time to land. More experienced than he was, that was for sure.

  But the blue silk outlined her figure in an utterly enticing way, a way that made his mouth water. Before he could put his reactions through a filter of civilization, Andros reached for her.

  Faye shuddered, pure reaction arcing through her as his mouth touched hers. Shit, she’d meant to choose someone she didn’t connect with, someone she wouldn’t feel too bad about double-crossing. Not this. She’d never felt like this just from a kiss. She spread her palms over the skin of his back, hungry to touch as much of him as she could. So smooth, the indent of his spine flexible and delicious. She wanted to taste his skin, but if he took his mouth from hers right now, she’d kill him.

  Pure lust took over from intellect and reason. She had to fight back. But this could well be a losing battle.

  She opened her mouth when he touched her lips with his tongue, welcoming him in. So good. So fucking good, she could eat him alive. Desire rose, dampened her thighs, made her take a deep breath through her nose—his male, aroused scent teasing her, rousing her appetite. He tasted like nobody else she’d ever had. Spicy, delicious. Tempting. He swept his tongue around her mouth and she tasted him back. He let her take control, move her tongue against his. She liked that. Occasionally she wanted to be dominated, for the man to take and take, but only sometimes. The rest of the time she preferred a meeting of equals. A fucking of equals.

  Her skin prickled. That flight should have soothed her raging libido, given her more control, but from the moment her mind had connected with his, her hunger for him had only risen. As if on cue, he moved his hand over her back, sliding it along the silk of her robe, caressing her. The robe made the movement sexier, the notion that she still had one secret left to reveal. He’d seen her other form, but he hadn’t seen her naked. Would he like her body, and would she let him remove her garment?

  That tantalizing final barrier of cloth remained between them, teasing her with its presence but, too engrossed in kissing him, she lost herself in his arms.

  When he’d shown her his mental image of himself, she’d seen a slender, willowy youth. But the man who held her now didn’t feel like that. No bulging muscles for sure, but strength flowed through him with the ease and power of an athlete.

  He tugged her even closer and she went, her breasts squashed against the hard planes of his chest, her arms snaking around him to pull him tight. He lifted his mouth from hers and smiled, his eyes creasing slightly at the corners. “Hello,” he said.

  She huffed a small laugh. “Hello.”

  He smoothed his hands down her body, curved them around her butt and lifted her so her pussy ground against his erect cock. The pressure made her soak the fabric she wore, her desire manifesting itself in the juice flowing from her. But when she reached for her waist, tried to push between them to loosen the tie, he gave her a hug and touched his lips to her forehead. His tongue snaked out to touch her, as if he couldn’t help himself. “No, don’t. Let me do it.”

  She was all over that idea. When she first spotted the ankle bracelet that denoted him a STORM employee she’d gone for him with cool determination to get what she needed and go. He wasn’t an operative. They usually had red anklets. Andros had a blue one. An internal worker. Perfect, as long as he had the security level she needed. She’d have to take a chance on that because she couldn’t go back now.

  All she could think of right now was having him, letting him take her and then taking him. Then doing it again. No, she couldn’t do that, had to remember her mission, but she’d let go, just for a while, enjoy what they had. And just as she’d said, let him give her a memory to take with her when she left. She’d lose herself in this, forget about the rest for however long it took them. Now she thought about it, she realized she hadn’t gotten down and dirty with anybody for a long time. Far too long.

  That must be it. No sex for a while could drive a dragon crazy, especially at this time of the month.

  She drew away. He let her, but the way his eyes burned told her he wouldn’t let her get very far. That was fine by her—she wasn’t planning to go far. The dragon remained in his eyes, the burning sparks reminding her of his true nature. That was typical of newly converted shape-shifters, that inability to conceal everything at the time of the full moon. Now she felt even more of a heel for drawing him in, but fuck, she wanted him.

  She slid her fingers under her belt but he held up one finger and wagged it from side to side, tsking to remind her that it was his job. Smiling, she loosened the belt ever so slightly and drew her hands away.

  The backs of her knees touched the side of the divan bed. It stood crosswise to the door, and since this room was a standard single room—comfortable but hardly spacious—only a foot separated her from her soon-to-be lover. She tumbled back, bouncing when she hit the bed, and opened her legs. Just a little. She’d left the room lit for seduction so he wouldn’t be able to see anything but a glimpse of thigh and some shadows in the dim light.

  His low growl told her she’d succeeded in turning him on even more. His cock stood at full-mast, hard and darker than the rest of his body, engorged and ready. The tip gleamed with a bead of liquid that, as she watched, slowly trickled down, almost like a tear, streaking across the sensitive skin. She wanted to claim it, but she wanted to watch as well. The drop hung on the flared edge of his cock head and she leaned forward, thirstier than she could remember ever being before.

  But he got to her first. He leaned over her, bracketing her body with his arms, brushing his body against hers but not lying on her. His breath heated her cheek then her mouth when she turned her head to receive his kiss.

  He dropped a gentle kiss on her lips, lingered to taste and then drew back, slipping his fingers under her robe. Watching her all the while, gazing into her eyes, turning her disrobing into a deeper intimacy, he pulled until the belt came loose. He let it fall and turned his attention to the edges of the garment. He glanced away and it felt as though the temperature in the room dropped.

  But when she felt his gaze fall on her bare skin, a flush of instant awareness warmed her right through. She smiled, knowing it was a poor effort, but she needed to show him something of what she felt. She had to keep up her psychic barriers, afraid of how well he was trained or how much he could see. That wouldn’t be unusual in a first encounter. He wouldn’t suspect anything.

  Andros pushed up on to his knees and stared at her. Drank her in, devoured her with his gaze, opening every part of her to his raw inspection. At the same time he probed at her mind, asking her to let him in deeper. The mental connection mattered. Some shape-shifters said it was the most important part of sex, but she couldn’t do this, couldn’t let him in farther than the superficial outer layer. He might read too much. She felt his surprise, then a spark of anger when he realized she wasn’t letting him in.

  He growled—caught her hands and urged her to unfold them. Still looking, those startlingly bright blue eyes drinking her in as if she were a glass of cool water.

  She gave a wry grin. “I’m not that special.” She knew how she looked. Reasonably slim, not model-skinny, with medium breasts and medium curves. Everything medium. Not unattractive, but not particularly memorable, either. For once, that could work in her favor tonight.

  “Gorgeous, that’s how special you are.” He grinned down at her, sharing something she didn’t dare stretch her mind out to discover. He nudged her mental barrier again, trying once more for the deeper connection, but she refused to let him in. His smile didn’t waver. “How about me? Will I do?”

  She sensed a curious tinge of vulnerability, there and gone in an instant. Not every Talent was bu
ilt like a linebacker. She happened not to like the linebacker type, although if it came with a pleasing personality she wouldn’t say no. But Andros worked for her.

  “Come here.” She pressed her hands against his chest, then moved them around to grasp him and pull him on top of her. Their mouths joined in a hungry kiss, which morphed into another and then another. He turned her so they lay on their sides, his cock pressed into the soft skin of her stomach, a burning portent of what they were about to do. Faye loved it. They kissed and caressed, each learning the textures and planes of the other’s body. She loved the dip in his waist at the back before it flared out into the smooth curves of his backside, and even more, when she curled her hands around she could touch his balls, faintly furred, hardening, tempting her to slide down his body and taste.

  Perhaps he read her desire, or a tension in her muscles alerted him, because he pulled her closer and chuckled. “No you don’t. I won’t survive that.” A frown crossed his features. “Unless—you don’t have protection? We’re fertile at this time of the month, aren’t we?”

  That he had to ask made her pause. Definitely new to this. She’d suspected as much from the sheer delight she’d read from him when they flew over the Park, as if he’d never played like that before.

  She cupped his cheek, tenderness filling her. “I have protection. Yes, we’re fertile, until tomorrow. Maybe the day after. I’ve heard of that happening.”

  He raised a brow. “I haven’t heard of that before. Isn’t the three-day rule inviolate?”

  “I guess I’ve been around too long.” She rubbed her foot against his ankle bracelet, the only thing he wore. “You work for STORM?” If she pretended ignorance, then she’d look like a fool. These days STORM was too famous to ignore.

  “Yeah.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “How did you know? I mean we’re not the only secure place in the city. Other places use these bracelets.”

  “I saw you,” she said. “On the roof.” She hadn’t, but she’d flown close enough to the STORM building to ensure she found a worker there, one that suited her purpose.