How to Love Your Dragon

Fire Mate, Book Two

Yorick “Rick” Hayes takes only two things seriously—his work as a veterinarian

and the seduction of lovely ladies. He’s unprepared for the lovely lady police officer
who pulls him over for speeding, however. Inexplicable, overwhelming lust threatens
to make him do something stupid—like try to seduce her on the side of the road. Throw
in sudden flashes of past life memories and Rick is confused, monumentally horny and
borderline obsessed with his sexy, no-nonsense cop.

For nearly half a century, Officer Kenna Mackay has denied her dragon side. Her

twin sister was betrayed by her mate, and Kenna refuses to risk the same fate—until she
makes eye contact with Rick. Her dragon awakens with a vengeance, the mating fire
claiming both woman and beast. Hard. Hot. Unstoppable. And exquisitely arousing.
The dragon wants her Fire Mate—now.

But history could repeat itself when that mate turns out to be a Druid; one who may

have done something bad to dragon-kind in his past life. Something very, very bad
indeed.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

How to Love Your Dragon

ISBN 9781419939273

Edited by Kelli Collins

Cover design by Syneca

Photography by Jaroslaw Grudzinski, DarkGeometryStudios, PhysioDave, Wallenrock/Shutterstock.com

Electronic book publication February 2012

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OW TO

OVE

OUR

RAGON

Lexxie Couper

Dedication

To Christi Snow, whose brutal honesty made writing this so much more enjoyable.

Lexxie Couper

Chapter One

Yorick “Rick” Hayes knew he was in trouble when the cop didn’t smile back. She

was a very sexy cop, with a very sexy mouth, a very sexy throat, very sexy long blonde

hair in a ponytail, and a very sexy body, all wrapped up in a very sexy, authoritarian

cop’s uniform—complete with a not-so-sexy but very authoritarian gun on her sexy hip.

If he weren’t three points away from losing his driver’s license altogether, he’d

consider throwing caution to the wind and flirting his arse off. The trouble was, he was

three points away from losing his license altogether—three points now hanging

perilously in the balance, thanks to his rather childish desire to drive faster than the

posted speed limit. And a veterinarian without a license was a veterinarian who

couldn’t get to emergencies. Of which there were many, considering Rick was the only

vet in North Shore Sydney who specialized in reptiles.

Who knew so many people in the snobby end of the city owned lizards? Not Rick.

Not until he’d settled in Sydney and opened his own veterinary practice after finishing

his degree. Then it was call-out after call-out after call-out. And so many were for

reptiles, he’d seriously started to wonder if he was being pranked by his cousin—she of

the Komodo dragon obsession. He wasn’t.

The snobby end of the city just seemed to have more pet lizards and snakes per

head than the rest of Sydney, which, considering most pet lizards and snakes cost a

small fortune to procure, made sense in a bizarrely financial way. Have ridiculous

amounts of money, will spend it.

The snobby end of the city also had its fair share of pet dogs, cats, rabbits, ferrets,

parakeets and hamsters, so on the whole, Rick was kept busy doing what he loved

most—caring for sick and injured animals.

Well, loved almost the most. Loving very fine ladies was what he really loved the

most. Ladies like the very fine, very sexy lady cop waiting for him to produce his

license.

He stared at her from his place behind the steering wheel of his dilapidated pickup,

unable to ignore the delicate subtlety of her top lip and the wicked fullness of her

bottom. It was a very kissable mouth. It went perfectly with all her other verys.

Maybe if he smiled again?
He did.
She didn’t.
“You do realize,” she said, her voice smooth and throaty and far too no-nonsense,

“you were driving ten kilometers over the limit?” Her sunglasses reflected Rick’s face

like a bowed mirror.

How to Love Your Dragon

Refusing to admit defeat, he smiled one more time, putting all his not

inconsiderable, roguish, cheeky charm into it. “And who would have thought this old

thing,” he patted the side of his door with his palm, “had it in her?”

His far too no-nonsense, very sexy authoritarian police officer didn’t react. Or

respond.

Damn. Maybe he was losing his touch?
“License.”
The one-word command, spoken with an American accent, of all things, sent a

ribbon of equal parts nervousness and excitement twisting through Rick’s belly. The

reaction was odd, he had to admit. He knew why he was aroused—the cop was sexy, as

he’d already noted—her body lush in all the right places, her legs long, her hips curvy,

her breasts full, and the accent just topped it off. But he didn’t understand why his body

seemed to be thrumming with what he could only describe as nervous energy. Getting a

speeding ticket wasn’t the reason, either. He’d received enough of those to know how

that felt. No, this was different. This was…

“License.”
He blinked, the cop’s growled order jerking him back from the weird, introspective

moment. When in the hell did he get introspective?

Mirrored sunglasses regarded him.
Rick frowned, suddenly feeling flustered. “Err…”
With an exasperated sigh, the cop bent at the waist, raised one hand and removed

her sunglasses, staring him hard in the face.

Fuck, he wished she hadn’t.
Her eyes were green. The greenest green eyes he’d ever seen. Thick, honey-blonde

lashes and a smidgen of dark brown eyeliner only made them appear greener. They

were stunning and mesmerizing and his dick stood instantly at attention.

But not just his dick. It was as if every single cell in his body zeroed in on every

single cell in hers. The urge to open his door, bury his fingers in her hair, bury his face

in the side of her neck and breathe, just breathe, was so overwhelming, he found his

hand on the door handle before he could blink.

What the hell?
Jerking his hand back to the steering wheel, Rick stared at the cop, his breath caught

in his throat, his cock ramrod straight, his heart smashing against his breastbone.

What in the hell was going on?
The cop looked at him, green eyes holding his stare with unwavering intensity. And

then he noticed the slightest shift in her body, and his stomach rolled. She was reaching

for her gun.

Oh crap.

Lexxie Couper

“License!” he burst out, squirming in his seat in an attempt to snare his wallet from

his back pocket. “Yes, license.”

The cop’s stare dropped to his lap, no doubt to make sure he wasn’t going to

produce something nefarious, like his own weapon, and Rick had to bite back a groan.

There wasn’t a hope in hell she would miss the wood he was sporting. Not with the

way he was thrusting his hips upward in his so-far-utterly-futile attempt to retrieve his

wallet. Bloody hell, since when was it so hard to pull a folded rectangle of leather from

a pocket?

“Err…” The ridiculous sound vibrated in his throat once more, his focus fixed

firmly on her face as he fought with his wallet. He writhed and thrust his hips up again

in an attempt to make more space between his arse and the car seat. Of course, that

meant his bloody inconvenient erection whacked against the bottom of the steering

wheel. He hissed in a sharp breath.

“Are you okay, sir?”
The question didn’t help. Damn it, the sound of her voice was like some sort of

aural Viagra. His dick got harder, his heart beat faster and that urge to crawl from his

truck and…and…do things to her got way urgent. Wickedly horny things. Downright

filthy things. Things like lick her cunt until she came on his face…things like bend her

over the bonnet of his truck and bury himself up to the balls in her sodden sex…things

like riding her back as she soared above the clouds in—

Rick blinked. Above the clouds? Ride her back? What the fuck?
He squirmed some more in his seat, flashing an apologetic smile. “Just…let me…I

can’t seem to get…”

Damn it, why was she still looking at his crotch? It wasn’t helping. Not one little bit.
“I think you’d better get out of your vehicle, sir.”
Rick froze. His heart leapt into his throat. Out of the vehicle? Fuck no. No no no.
“Err…I don’t think—”
The cop’s green stare slid back to his face, her expression unreadable. “Out of the

vehicle, sir. Now.”

Oh no, this is not good. Not good.
“Err…”
Her fingers closed around the grip of her Glock. Her nostril flared. “Sir, I’m not

asking.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck!
Rick stared at her through the window. He had two options. Do as she ordered and

get out of his pickup, or ram his foot on the accelerator and drive.

If he went with option one, if he climbed out of his truck, thus removing the barrier

of metal between them, he knew beyond any doubt he would throw himself at her and

proceed to do all those things his suddenly psychotic libido was telling him to do. Right

up until the point when she pulled her gun, jammed it against his temple and blew his

How to Love Your Dragon

suddenly psychotic brains out. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself. There was

something so potent, so compelling, so bloody intoxicating about the woman. Even

now, still strapped in his seat, his stare locked on her face, every fiber in his body

screamed at him to take her, claim her, fuck her, mate with her…

Fuck a duck, he was in trouble.
“Sir?”
Just that single word passed her lips, but if Rick didn’t know any better, he would

have said it was strained. A plea for everything he wanted to do to her.

He knew better.
He planted his foot on the accelerator and took off.
As fast as his old pickup would go, which, given that he liked speed and had spent

an inordinate amount of money on the engine, was ridiculously fast.

He floored it, shifting gears with the skill of a frantic fugitive desperate to escape

capture. Which he was. But better that than shot trying to hump a cop on the side of the

road.

What the hell was going on with him?
Shooting a look in his rearview mirror, he saw the female officer running back to

her vehicle. His mouth turned dry. His cock throbbed, still as hard as ever. She was

following him.

Of course she was following. What did he think she was going to do? Wave him off?

Shrug and chalk him up as “the one that got away”?

Rick’s already rapid heart rate kicked up a notch. Damn it, what the hell did he

think he was doing?

“Saving my arse,” he muttered, shifting back a gear before flinging around a corner

and flooring it again, just as a siren began wailing behind him. “Hopefully by the time

she catches me, this…this thing going on with me will have—”

His cell phone burst to life, the sound of the Beatles singing I Am the Walrus telling

him it was his receptionist on the other end of the line.

He snatched the device from the passenger seat where he’d tossed it at the start of

his journey, connecting to the call with a jab of his thumb before slamming the phone to

his ear. “What’s up, Rose? I’m kinda in a situation here.”

“You’ve got an emergency call-out, Doc. A dog mishap. Pretty bad one by the

sound of it. The owner’s close to being hysterical.”

The news was sobering. And had the same effect on his dick as a cold spoon

smacked against its engorged head.

Rick never thought he’d be so happy to lose an erection.
Repeating the address of the patient three times to cement it in his head, he told

Rose to prep for surgery then disconnected the call. Gone was the feverish need to flee

the cop. All that mattered now getting to the animal who needed him.

Lexxie Couper

Fast.
Ten minutes later, the wail of the siren behind him an inescapable reminder of his

pursuer, Rick screeched to a halt in the driveway of a rather massive McMansion.

And saw the emergency straightaway.
Oh fuck.
A beagle was hanging facedown from the house’s short wrought iron fence, its side

impaled on one of the ornate spikes.

The second Rick opened the door, the poor animal’s yelps and whines filled his

ears, its pain reaching into his heart. A tingle rippled through him, the kind he always

experienced when confronted with an animal in torment or agony. It spoke to him on a

level he never questioned, an instinctual understanding of the situation and what

needed to be done. His heart slowed, his breaths grew deep and, as he alighted from his

pickup, his head cleared.

All that existed was the dog and Rick.
Ignoring the elderly woman kneeling by the beagle’s hanging head, her sobs and

pleas for help a distant whisper, Rick crouched and placed his hands on the dog’s chest.

The animal’s tortured yelps quieted immediately. Its heartbeat vibrated through his

palms, an erratic, weak beat that sank into Rick’s belly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The voice yelling at him was from the cop. On a deep level, one he would need to

examine later, his body responded to her just as it had when she’d removed her

sunglasses. His groin stirred, his pulse quickened, every nerve ending thrummed. But

only for a moment, a brief recognition of her, before the reason for Rick’s existence—the

care of wounded and sick animals—drew his full attention once again.

He lowered his head, drawing his eyes level with those of the impaled beagle. “It’s

okay, mate.” He spoke in a low murmur, feeding the dog his calm through slow, gentle

strokes of its chest. “I’m going to get you off this.”

He raised his hand to the beagle’s muzzle, smiling as the dog licked the back of his

fingers, an acknowledgement of Rick’s presence. “That’s a good boy. I know, I know.”

Lifting his gaze to the woman kneeling beside him, he gave her a reassuring smile.

“This is your dog, yes? You are Mrs. Beaumont?”

She nodded, tears wetting cheeks soft and wrinkled with age. “I don’t know what

happened. I let him out to do his business and then he was yelping.” She paused, fresh

tears chocking her voice. “I rushed out and found him like this.”

Rick touched her shoulder with a steady hand. “He’s going to be okay, Mrs.

Beaumont. I promise. What’s his name?”

The old woman’s gaze jerked to the hanging animal, her lips moving soundlessly

for a second before the answer found its way from her throat. “Barney. His name is

Barney.”

How to Love Your Dragon

Rick stroked her shoulder, studying her face. “Barney will be fine, Mrs. Beaumont,

but you have to do something for me, please. I need to move quickly.”

For a moment he was overwhelmed with the tangible scent of her grief. It wrapped

around him and streamed through his nose and mouth, a testament to her love for her

dog. It wasn’t the first time Rick had experienced such a sensation when dealing with a

distressed animal owner. He’d come to expect it, even used it to help soothe the

person’s fear, but never had it hit him so hard. For a moment, all he could do was

drown in the sour-ash odor—and then it was gone, nothing but the heavy scent of

summer jasmine and the copper tinge of the beagle’s blood flowing through his nose.

“Mrs. Beaumont?” he said again, needing the elderly woman to look at him. Her

grief was only upsetting her dog. Rick could feel the increasing stress flowing from the

beagle in waves. “I need you to go inside and bring me some clean towels and warm

water. Not boiling, but warm. Can you do that please, Mrs. Beaumont?”

Mrs. Beaumont’s stare jerked back to Rick. A second wave of her grief washed over

him, just as potent. “Y-yes, I can do that.”

He gave her another warm smile. “Remember, Barney will be okay. I promise.”
The elderly woman was on her feet and rushing to her open front door before Rick

could finish reassuring her. But that was okay. That was exactly what he wanted.

Lifting his head, he gave the police officer standing to his right a long, steady look.

Once again his body reacted to her presence, to her stunning green eyes, a whirl of

debauched images assaulting him. Suggesting things he ached to do. But only for a

moment, and then the dog’s pain welled through him again and the surreal pull on his

body faded. Almost gone.

Almost.
He looked from Barney back to the cop. “I need you to get my bag from behind the

passenger seat in my truck.”

She frowned—for all of a second—and then turned and ran to his pickup.
Rick returned his attention to Barney, running his hands over the dog’s body. Low

whines played at his senses, telling him the animal was growing weaker. He needed to

get him off the fence ASAP before his own weight tore the flesh wider. Unfortunately,

the spike had come close to piercing his gut, and judging by the color of the blood

oozing from the puncture wound, there was a real risk of the small intestine rupturing

with any movement.

Repositioning himself until he was directly in front of the dog, Rick cupped

Barney’s head in his hands, rubbing his forehead lightly against the beagle’s. “It’s going

to hurt, mate. I can’t tell you it’s not, but I’ll make it quick and I’ll make it better as soon

as I get you down, okay?”

Barney’s tongue, worryingly dry, licked at Rick’s chin.
He smiled, closing his eyes and keeping his forehead against the distressed dog’s

for a heartbeat longer, letting Barney feel his calm. His promise.

Lexxie Couper

His power.
Barely another heartbeat later, the cop was beside him again, his bag—the

emergency kit he always carried in his pickup—in her hands. She lowered to a crouch

beside him, her green eyes serious, her body tense. “What do you need me to do?”

Her soft voice caressed Rick’s senses and, once again, that surreal, hyper-sensual

awareness of her rippled through him, but it was tempered this time, as if his body (or

hers?) knew now was not the time. Instead of insane lust, what flowed through him was

a warm feeling of completeness that, in Rick’s opinion, made no bloody sense at all.

Pushing aside the unexpected sensation, he gave her a quick look. “I need to

remove Barney from the fence and I need to do it quickly. I need you to stem the flow of

blood from the wound as I pull him from the spike.”

She frowned. “The towels? Mrs. Beaumont—”
Rick shook his head. “Is better inside. This isn’t going to be easy for anyone to see,

let alone her. Her heart is too entwined with her dog’s to experience it.” He returned his

attention to Barney, changing his position again until his hands were all but supporting

the dog’s weight. “There’s sterilized gauze in the bag. You’ll need a lot, I’m afraid.”

He heard his cop move, a distant part of his mind noting how, somewhere between

being pulled over and now, she’d become “his” cop. How she’d gone from a sexy

woman in a uniform he’d considered flirting with to the woman about to help him do

what he was born to do, and he didn’t doubt in the slightest she could. His gut told him

his cop, whoever she was, was exactly where she was meant to be—by his side.

And that made not one iota of sense at all.
He pressed his forehead to Barney’s for the last time, closed his eyes and drew in all

the positive energy around him, pulling it from every living thing he could. Drawing it

in, channeling it, letting it flow through him into Barney. Giving the dog the healing

energy and ancient power of the Earth. He didn’t know how he did it. He never did. It

was just the way it was and he didn’t question it.

Why would he?
“My God…how are you doing this?”
The whispered gasp beside Rick sent a shard of something tight to his core. He

opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking at his cop. She stood at Barney’s side, her

hands full with wadded strips of gauze, her eyes wide, her expression one of utter,

enrapt awe.

Doing what? he wanted to ask. But he couldn’t.
The second their stares connected, a bolt of pure energy scored through Rick, as if

the sun had set fire to his soul. And then, without thought or hesitation, his blood

boiling, his nerve-endings sizzling, his heart hammering, he straightened his knees,

pressed his palms to Barney’s body and slid the dog from the fence spike.

How to Love Your Dragon

Kenna Mackay couldn’t believe she was on fire. Now, of all times, every molecule

in her body was at the incineration point.

Is this why you didn’t call for backup?
She stared at the serious man lifting the poor dog from the fence. A man who, only

a short while ago, had been roguishly, worryingly sexy as he’d tried to flirt his way out

of a ticket—and felt her entire existence burn hotter still.

And the only way that could be happening was if part of her existence, the part

she’d denied for so long, was recognizing her destined mate. And there wasn’t a hope

in hell that was—

“The gauze, Officer. Now.”
Kenna blinked, numb shock smacking into her. The man’s blue gaze flicked from

her to the dog and back, his expression both calm and determined.

Oh hell, the dog.
She leaped forward, pressing the folded strips of gauze to the torn wound in the

beagle’s left side. Hot blood flowed from the hole in the dog’s body, staining the gauze

red with horrific speed. But the animal didn’t make a sound, nor fight the man sliding

him from the fence. In fact, the dog gazed at him, something close to utter trust in his

beautiful brown eyes as the spike quickly exited his body.

Kenna had never seen anything like it.
Without hesitation, she scooped her arm under the beagle and pressed her other

hand to the wound, now freshly exposed. For a few seconds she held the dog’s entire

weight, her stare jerking between the surreally calm animal and the man she’d chased

to this very spot, and then said man wrapped his arms around the dog, placed his

hands over hers and said, “I’ve got him.”

But the words didn’t make it to her ears. Not when the roaring of her blood was so

deafening. Not when, at the very instant he touched her, she was engulfed in heat so

incinerating the only sense left to her was sight.

She gaped at him, her heart hammering its way into her throat, her mouth, her

temple.

Good Lord, her Fire Mate was touching her.
No. It’s not happening. I refuse to acknowledge—
“Honey, I know you’re feeling whatever the fuck is happening between us as well,

but you’ve got to let go of Barney now so I can save his life.”

The words, uttered in a low murmur, made her blink. Her stomach clenched. No,

her sex clenched. No, it was her chest, her heart. Her ass. Her wings…

Wings? Wings? What the hell is going on?
Kenna staggered back a step, sliding her hands from beneath his, her stare still

locked with the stranger’s.

And the fire consuming her abated. A little.

Lexxie Couper

The man’s lips curled in a loose smile, two dimples creasing either side of his

mouth, his face turning from handsomely serious to blow-your-mind gorgeous. “We’ll

talk about that later,” he said, curling his arms until he cradled the beagle against a

chest Kenna only now noticed was broad and undeniably well sculpted. “But first…”

He turned from her and lowered the dog to the ground, the animal far calmer than

he should be, given he’d just been impaled by a fence.

And yet even that fuck-with-your-head fact wasn’t important. Not now. Not when,

after forty-two years of constant, tenacious suppression, the dragon deep inside her was

surging to awareness. The very aroused dragon.

God save her. It was mating time.

How to Love Your Dragon

Chapter Two

Three hours later, standing in the waiting room of Dr. Rick Hayes’ veterinarian

practice, Kenna watched Mrs. Beaumont cover Rick’s face in kisses and barely

suppressed the urge to rip out the sweet, fragile, grateful old woman’s throat.

The mating fire scorched Kenna’s body, pumping through her heart and pulsing in

the muscles of her sex. She ground her teeth, the sight of Mrs. Beaumont’s lips

connecting with a smiling Rick’s cheek, lips and forehead awakening a base, irrational

and thoroughly territorial jealousy.

Damn, she was in trouble.
How many decades had passed since she’d behaved like a dragon shifter? How

many? Enough to almost forget the ridiculous, animalistic carrying-on of her kind.

Enough to almost forget how damn embarrassing the primal, bestial traits of her other

existence were.

Enough to almost forget she was a dragon shifter.
Even when Tyson Conley, Sydney’s oldest and most respected dragon shifter,

stupidly blew his cover a few months back, Kenna had remained detached. The city’s

shifters had rallied together, pooling their considerable resources to squash the media

coverage, effectively killing the exposure of their kind. Who knew there were editor-in-

chief dragons at both leading newspapers? And even the clips that kept popping up on

YouTube of a shadowy dragon silhouette soaring into the night sky were regularly

removed from the net within twenty-four hours.

By their very nature, dragon shifters were solitary creatures, but when it came to

protecting their secrets they banded together like steel.

But Kenna kept her distance. If she stayed away from dragons, if she denied the

dragon inside her, then she wouldn’t be a target for the Extraho Venator. And if she

wasn’t a target for the Extraho Venator, those damn dragon hunters wouldn’t be able to

butcher her.

Like they had her twin sister, forty-two years ago.
The grim thought punched into her, tempering the dangerous jealousy toward Mrs.

Beaumont. But not the raging heat simmering beneath Kenna’s skin.

Curse it, what the hell was she doing, experiencing the mating fire?
She slid her stare to the vet happily bathing in the old woman’s sobbing gratitude.

Nothing about him hinted at being a dragon, but he had to be. It was the only

explanation for the ancient magic she’d felt surging through him when he’d tended to

the beagle on Mrs. Beaumont’s fence.

Lexxie Couper

Not to mention the fact the second she’d laid eyes on him, every nerve ending in

her body had burst into scorching fire. God save her, she’d almost climbed into his

pickup and onto his lap the moment he’d lowered the driver’s-side window and looked

at her with those flirting blue eyes of his. Eyes, she couldn’t help but noticing, now

doing a very fine job of flirting with Mrs. Beaumont.

“Thank you, Doctor,” the old biddy gushed, her hands cupping Rick’s square jaw,

open adoration on her wrinkled face. “Thank you so much again for saving Barney!”

Rick laughed, pressing his palms to Mrs. Beaumont’s hands to gently lower them.

“No thank yous required. Really.” He smiled, flashing twin dimples, his eyes sparkling

with joyous mirth. Kenna’s sex contracted at the sight. Damn it, he was cute. Cute and

dangerous. Tall and rangy, with a latent strength in his sinewy, broad-shouldered form,

lips that promised all sorts of wickedness, scruffy blond hair that was the very

definition of bedhead—all draped in a cocky arrogance that made her pulse quicken

and her pussy clench.

She had to get away from him before she lost control.
So why are you still here? Why did you follow him when he brought Barney and the near-

hysterical Mrs. Beaumont back to his practice? Your shift was almost over. You could have gone

home, but what did you do? Told Dispatch you were helping with an animal emergency. You

didn’t have to do that, but you did. Why did you stay while he operated on the dog? Why didn’t

you go then, hmm?

Because she had to issue him a speeding ticket and it would have been distasteful to

do so when the dog’s life was still hanging in the balance.

That’s bullshit, Kenna Mackay, and you know it.
Kenna bit back a growl, the sound far too bestial for her liking. It was bullshit.

Speeding tickets and official police procedure had nothing to do with it. He’d barely

been breaking the speed limit but her gut told her to stop him. At least, she’d thought it

was her gut. Now she had to wonder.

And you never called for backup. Despite a ten-minute pursuit, you never called for backup.

Why? Because you didn’t want anyone to come between you? Because you wanted him all for

yourself? Because the mating fire had taken control of your damn senses?

Her sister had experienced the mating fire, had in fact bonded to her Fire Mate

three months before she was slaughtered. Kenna remembered the way Ciara behaved—

as if all control and inhibition had been stripped from her. As if her mind and body

weren’t her own.

Kenna didn’t even want to acknowledge the fire. Especially if it meant succumbing

to her dragon side.

Especially if it meant succumbing to Rick Hayes.
She didn’t succumb to anyone. It wasn’t safe. Her sister had discovered th—
“…without you, Officer Mackay.”

How to Love Your Dragon

Kenna started. The sound of Mrs. Beaumont weeping her name jerked her away

from dark thoughts a second before soft hands pressed to her cheeks and even softer

lips were smacking against her cheek.

Oh God, the sweet old thing was kissing her.
“Thank you, Officer,” Mrs. Beaumont gushed, pulling away just enough to stare at

Kenna with the same adoration she’d bestowed on Rick. “If you weren’t there to help

Dr. Hayes, I don’t know…” She hiccupped a sob. “Barney may not have made it.”

Kenna opened her mouth, certain she should say something. Nothing came out.
It didn’t seem to matter to Mrs. Beaumont, however. The elderly woman flung her

arms around Kenna, squeezing her in a surprisingly crushing hug, all the while

thanking her for helping Dr. Hayes save her beloved Barney. Promising Kenna she

would bring Barney to visit her at the station when Dr. Hayes said it was okay for him

to come home. “And I will make you scones! Spicy pumpkin ones. To say thank you

some more. You and Dr. Hayes can come for afternoon tea and…”

Whatever she said next, Kenna didn’t hear it. Because at that very moment, Kenna

made the mistake of turning her gaze to Rick.

He was watching her.
Their eyes connected and raw lust roared through her, a surging force of heat that

obliterated anything and everything else. She knew an old lady was hugging her,

thanking her, but all she could comprehend was the incomprehensible desire to strip

naked, throw herself at Rick and fuck him until she ignited.

And by the unmistakable hunger in Rick’s stare, that desire was mutual.
Get away from him, Kenna. Get away. Before it’s too late and you—
Inside her, deep in the prison of her soul, her dragon screeched. Crying for release.

Begging for freedom.

Calling to her Fire Mate.

Rick had no idea what was going on. None. He was pretty sure he’d saved Barney.

That would explain the profusely grateful Mrs. Beaumont currently squeezing Officer

Be-Still-My-Beating-Heart. He must’ve tapped into the same mysterious force he always

did, in order to complete Barney’s surgery. That would explain the familiar tingling in

his gut and chest. But it was all a blur.

When had he driven back to his clinic? No idea. When had he operated? Who

knew?

If he had to put his current state of mind into words, the best he could come up

with was “horny beyond belief” and even that didn’t come close. There was a disgusted

part of his mind that couldn’t help but wonder if he’d sported a semi throughout

Barney’s surgery, he was that turned-on.

Lexxie Couper

Had he really thought he’d been aroused by Officer Mackay back on the road? A

schoolyard crush compared to what he experienced now. How in the hell he managed

to stand still and let Mrs. Beaumont hug her was beyond him.

How he stopped himself from throwing the sweet old beagle owner from his clinic,

along with his currently bemused receptionist, before locking the door and doing

everything to Officer Mackay he’d been aching to do since first making eye contact with

her wasn’t just beyond him. It was beyond plausibility.

Hell, he didn’t even know the officer’s first name yet and he was ready to pump her

full of his seed—and that was an entirely messed-up thought. He never fucked without

a condom but the thought of taking Officer Mackay with a thin film of latex separating

them…nope. Not possible. Not doable. Not at all.

He swallowed, his dick throbbing. Damn it, if he didn’t know better, he’d say he’d

been drugged. It wasn’t humanly possible to be this turned-on.

But he was. And if he didn’t get Mrs. Beaumont and Rose out of his clinic soon,

they’d bear witness to his totally uncouth seduction of Officer Mackay. And by uncouth

seduction, he meant begging her on his knees to let him fuck her.

Because that’s what he was going to do. As soon as they were alone. It was either

that, or jerk himself off so hard he may very well rip off his own dick.

A low moan tickled his ears…or was it a loud roar in his head? Both? He stared at

the police officer being hugged by Mrs. Beaumont. Did she make the sound?

Yes. She’s calling to you.
The tingling in Rick’s stomach and chest—a leftover from whatever it was he did

when connecting with animals—intensified. It razed through him, like a wave of

charged energy unlike any he’d experienced. The longer he gazed at Officer Mackay,

the more the sensation consumed him.

Connected. It’s all connected, Yorick. You, the woman, the tingle, the lust, the need, the

power…

Christ, the power. It was the very power he’d been tapping into since childhood,

that which made what he did—healing, caring, communing with the creatures of this

earth—so much easier. And yet it was more. It twisted through his very existence, a

surge of unfathomable magic so ancient he could taste the primordial mist of its birth.

And the more he looked at Officer Mackay, the more potent, the more entwined with

her it became.

She who is born of fire she who is born of flight she who is born of…
The babbling thought made fuck-all sense but Rick didn’t care. He had to claim her.

Now.

“Rose?” His receptionist’s name sounded more like a yelp in his throat. She sat

behind the front counter, and Rick was thankful for the fact it was chest-high. If it

weren’t, Rose would be getting a damn good look at his trapped erection. “Rose, I need

you to drive Mrs. Beaumont home.”

How to Love Your Dragon

The command—for that’s what it was—tore from his throat in a strangled growl.

Rose’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t want me to print her paperwork first? Get her

payment info and all?”

Rick shook his head, refusing to let himself look at Officer Mackay and the still-

hugging Mrs. Beaumont. Not until we’re alone. Not until we’re alone.

She who is born of fire she who is born of flight she who is born of…
“We’ll bill her later,” he ground out, heart smashing hard against his breastbone.

“After you see her home, take the day off. I’ll take care of the remaining appoint—”

Rose shook her head before he could finish. “You don’t have any. It’s Saturday,

remember? I’m only here because of the emergency.”

He blinked. Saturday? How had he forgotten what day it was?
She who is born of fire she who is born of flight she who is born of…
“Come along, Mrs. Beaumont.” Rose’s voice sounded as if it was coming from a

distance, and Rick frowned. His head felt fuzzy. He felt hot. Sucking in another desire-

drenched breath, he watched Rose cross to Mrs. Beaumont and curl her fingers around

the elderly woman’s upper arm. “Let’s get you home, shall we?”

Rick’s breath grew short. Shallow. From the corner of his eye, he could see Officer

Mackay but he couldn’t look directly at her. Not yet. Instead, he kept his focus on Rose.

If he looked at…

She who is born of fire she who is born of flight she who is born of…
…the other woman…
…Druid’s dragon…
…it was game over.
Dragging Mrs. Beaumont away from the officer, Rose shot him a look over her

shoulder, her expression telling him loud and clear she thought he was insane. She

knew Rick well—she’d been his receptionist for close to ten years now—and had seen

him at work with more than one unattached female pet owner, but the way she was

looking at him now said one thing.

Hitting on a cop? Really?
If only he could tell her he had no choice.
Need her need she who is born of fire she who is born of flight need to claim her need to

mount her need to…

With a smile at Officer Mackay, and a quick smirk at Rick, Rose led Mrs. Beaumont,

still gushing her thanks to Barney’s saviors, across the waiting room. Rick stared hard at

them, his heart slamming faster and harder in his chest as they neared the clinic door.

Closer. Closer.
The door swung open, the small metal bell attached above it dinged with inordinate

volume once, twice, and then, with another smirk over her shoulder at Rick, Rose

pulled the door shut behind her.

Lexxie Couper

“Oh boy.”
Officer Mackay’s soft exclamation, barely more than a whispered breath, sank

straight into Rick’s chest. He turned toward her, not even remotely knowing what he

was going to say.

And was driven back a step as she slammed into him.
Her lips crushed his as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her

hands in his hair, balling them into fists then plunging her tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was savage. There was no control, just raw, ravenous hunger. Her tongue

slid over his, mated with it. Her teeth nipped at his lips, his chin, his jaw. She bit his

earlobe, lashed her tongue into his ear and then claimed his mouth again.

It was the most untamed, uninhibited kiss Rick had ever experienced.
Christ, it was amazing.
He raked his hands up her back, snared her no-nonsense ponytail in a tight fist and

yanked her head backward. She let out a moan, her hips thrusting against his as Rick’s

mouth assaulted her throat. His cock strained against his jeans, nestling against the

softness of her mound. Her police-issue belt dug into his waist, her walkie-talkie

drilling into his hip. He didn’t care. Not when she was making such raw sounds of lust

as he kissed and sucked on her throat. Not when her hands scraped at his chest,

searching for his shirt buttons.

He pulled away a little, just enough to grant her fingers access to his collar. She

fought with his shirt, growling low in her throat. Rick heard the soft pop of a button

tearing from material, the sound sending carnal jolts of heat into his groin. She was

wild. Fuck, she was wild and savage.

His cock pulsed at the thought, aching for attention.
It would have to wait. Rick wanted more of her first. Releasing her ponytail, he

grabbed her police cap, pulled it from her head and tossed it aside, all the while

covering her throat, her jaw, her lips in frantic kisses. Her flesh tasted like smoke-

infused honey. It was intoxicating.

He dragged one hand down her back again, squeezing the firm curve of her

backside as he hauled her sex harder to his. She moaned at the punishing contact, her

nails scraping over his chest, around his shoulders.

A rational part of Rick’s mind told him this was insane. He told the rational part to

fuck off, yanking the hem of her shirt from her trousers and shoving his hand beneath

the stiff polyester. Her skin felt like hot velvet under his palm, and fresh jolts of tight

need sank into Rick’s cock.

Christ, he was so fucking hard.
And she was so damn perfect. Reclaiming her mouth—he couldn’t seem to get

enough of it—he let his hand explore the dip of her waist, the ridges of her rib cage.

When his fingers found the swell of her breast, contained by a bra as no-nonsense as her

How to Love Your Dragon

ponytail, she groaned into his mouth and ground her sex against his rigid dick. His

head swam.

“This is…oh God, this is so…” she moaned against his lips, her nails dragging over

his chest until her fingers captured his nipples. “Touch me, touch them. Now.”

He didn’t need to be begged. He wriggled his fingers under the cup of her bra and

squeezed the heavy perfection of her breast.

“Oh yes!” she cried, her nipple beading under his palm. “Squeeze it, pinch it.”
Exquisite agony throbbed through Rick’s cock at her commands. He yanked his

hand free of her bra, silencing her shouts of dismay with a kiss nowhere near gentle. He

fucked her mouth with his tongue, taking utter possession of her sweet lips as he

hooked his fingers at the edges of her collar and tore her top open.

She threw back her head, begging him to kiss her tits, suck them, bite them. Rick

shot her face a quick look, the feverish pleasure flushing her cheeks making his heart

miss a beat. God, she was gorgeous. Stunning in her raw sensuality. A creature of pure

response and unchecked desire.

And his. All his.
Dropping his gaze to her chest, he snared the thin straps on her shoulders, pulling

them down her arms along with the sleeves of her top, lowering the bra to rest just

beneath her breasts.

“Yes!” she cried, her hands fisting in his hair, tugging his head down. “Suck them

now. Hard, please. Hard!”

He did, closing his lips around one tight nipple and sucking with fierce pressure.

She bucked against him, her nails scraping over his shoulders, across his back, back to

his shoulders again. “Bite it,” she growled.

Rick caught the puckered nipple with his teeth, rolling it back and forth before

sucking again. She whimpered, a keening noise he’d never heard before. Wild and feral

and thoroughly feminine. Christ, he could die a happy man listening to the sound. He

wanted to hear it again.

He switched to her other breast and, once more, Officer Mackay filled the waiting

room with low, throaty moans of pleasure. But it wasn’t enough for Rick. He wanted to

taste all of her.

Returning his lips to her mouth, he reached for her belt.
She stopped him with a hard shove.
He staggered back, his stare flinging to her face, his throat growing tight at what he

found there.

Crazed lust filled her eyes. Her lips were parted, glistening from his kiss. Her

cheeks were pink with a high flush. Her breasts rose and fell with each heaving breath

she took, her open shirt and bra hanging from her body as erotic a sight as Rick had

ever seen.

Oh Dian Cécht, I have found…

Lexxie Couper

The nonsensical thought didn’t finish. It couldn’t. Not when Officer Mackay

released her belt and stripped her trousers from her legs, taking her underpants with

them. Not when she stood before him half naked and completely exposed.

Rick didn’t hesitate. He destroyed the tiny distance between them, hauled her off

her feet and spun to face the reception counter, depositing her on top of it.

She gasped, the granite surface no doubt cool on her pussy. And gasped again

when Rick wrapped his hands around her knees and yanked her forward, enough to

slide her wet cunt to the counter’s edge. He flicked her a quick look, reveling in the

passion blazing in her green, green eyes.

“Rick…” she murmured, shifting on her perch. Anchoring her fingers around the

counter’s edge and lifting her hips, spreading her thighs wider.

It was all the request he needed.
He draped her legs over his shoulders and thrust his tongue into her sodden sex.
“Oh…y-yes…God…oh that’s so…”
Her whimpers turned to cries, her cries to groans. Rick lapped at her labia, her clit.

He sucked on her folds. The louder she groaned, the more he tortured her with his

tongue and teeth. Her clit grew fat against his lips and he sucked on it with greedy

want. She bucked against his mouth, her booted heels driving into his back. It hurt, a

gloriously wonderful pain of raw lust and demanding need. He continued, laving his

tongue over and over the button of sensitive flesh. Flicking it, biting it. Sucking and

flicking it again.

And with every swipe and thrust of Rick’s tongue, Officer Mackay begged for

more, begged him to claim her, fuck her. Begged him to keep going, keep going, her

cries growing wilder, her hips bucking higher, higher—until a shudder racked her

body. Until her legs contracted around his shoulders and she came, her cream gushing

over his lips and tongue and chin.

“Oh God, Rick, yes…yes…”
Rick’s cock strained against his fly, the metal teeth of the zipper digging into his

engorged length. If he didn’t sink into her cunt soon, he was going to blow. And even if

he did manage to get inside her, he wasn’t going to last long. He was feverish with his

need for her. He was on fire. He was burning up.

Smoothing his hands up her waist, he lapped the last of her juices from her folds

and straightened, gazing at her pleasure-etched face. “I need to fuck you now, hon. I

can’t hold on any longer but I have to tell you, I haven’t got a condom and I don’t

want—”

Her throaty chuckle stopped him. “Condom?” She hooked her legs around his hips

and jerked his groin hard against her sodden folds, her eyes hazy with pleasure. “Since

when do dragon shifters use condoms?”

Rick’s heart missed a beat.
He blinked, a frown knotting his forehead. What did she just say?

How to Love Your Dragon

“Dragon what?”
Officer Mackay laughed again, her legs grinding him even harder against her

spread sex. “Ha ha, very funny. Now fuck me, Fire Mate. Before I shift and destroy

your—”

Fire Mate. The word sank into Rick’s brain like a piercing finger of blinding light.

Fire Mate. “What’s a—?”

The living electricity sizzling through his veins turned to molten heat and, in a rush

of color and sound and smells, Rick was assaulted with vivid memories. Memories that

weren’t his but the—

The Druid’s dragon she is beautiful join with me dragon join with me and I shall…
The force of the memories hit him like a wrecking ball. His memories. His, but not

his. The Druid’s memories.

The Druid? Who the fuck is the Druid?
He staggered backward, breaking free of the officer’s hold, his eyes wide, blood

roaring in his ears.

The Druid’s dragon she is beautiful join with me dragon join with me and I shall…
“Holy fuck.” He gaped at her, his heart well and truly punching its way into his

throat. Druid? Druid? Holy Christ, was that the source of his mysterious power? Was he

a Druid? In some former life? Was he—

“Rick?” He saw confusion twisting the pleasure in her face. “Rick, what’s going

on?”

He swallowed. The tingling in his body reached his head, the memories lashing at

him even as the throb in his still-engorged cock grew stronger. “Did you say dragon

shifter?”

The confusion in Officer Mackay’s face turned to something else. Something close

to terror. “Oh my God. Oh my God, you’re not a—”

She didn’t finish. Face bleaching white, she flung herself off the counter, snatched

up her trousers, her belt and gun and ran to the clinic’s public toilet on the far side of

the waiting room.

The door swung inward with violent force and, with a bang louder than a gunshot,

slammed shut just as violently behind her.

Rick stood stock-still, every fiber in his body thrumming. Fresh memories smashed

into him, wave after wave. Memories of his own hands, his own voice performing

ancient rituals of life and death. Memories of the mystic energy of those rituals pouring

from the earth into his soul.

Memories of cosmic spiritualism.
His heart hammered faster. His groin throbbed harder.
“Holy shit.”
A Druid. He was a Druid. Well, had been a Druid. In a former life.

Lexxie Couper

He dragged his hands through his hair, staring at the closed toilet door. He was a

reincarnated Druid and he’d just given head to a—

Dragon.
“Fuck a duck, the Asterix comic books did not prepare me for this.”

How to Love Your Dragon

Chapter Three

You can’t stay in here forever, y’know.
Kenna ground her teeth, pacing the tiny washroom. She refused to lift her head,

knowing what she’d spy in the mirror above the basin if she did. She wasn’t ready to

see the shame in her eyes. She sure as hell wasn’t ready to see the disgust.

How could she have done that? Gods, how could she have confused some kind

of…of natural human attraction with the mating fire? Was she that out of touch with her

other existence she couldn’t tell the difference between a chemically induced physical

response—even a mind-blowingly hot one—and a fated bonding of mythical

proportions?

No, it was more than just thinking Rick Hayes is cute. It had to be. You felt—
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Kenna. You heard him. He’s not a dragon.”
The words burst from her in a snarl. Her cheeks turned hot with fresh shame, her

stomach knotted and, deep within its prison, her dragon roared with frustrated rage.

Kenna ground her teeth. Horny. The dragon was still horny. Still convinced the

man outside the toilet was not only a dragon shifter, but her Fire Mate.

At the thought, a ripple of hot, hungry lust sheared straight through her core. She

bit back a growl. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. She was controlled. She was

disciplined. She didn’t let her dragon out anymore. She didn’t think like a dragon

anymore.

You just did, Kenna. You just gave yourself utterly and completely over to the mating fire

without fight or hesitation.

Kenna’s stomach rolled. Her sex throbbed. She had. Decades of refusing to succumb

to even the most basic urge to fly—to fly, for God’s sake—and she’d just gone and

completely surrendered to the ridiculous, disgusting behavior of a rutting beast.

Triggering something that couldn’t be stopped.

Oh God, she was pathetic and weak and—
She dug her fingernails into her palms. No. She’d turned her back on that side of

her existence, thank you very much. She’d turned her back on it and she wasn’t

succumbing again. None of that primitive, instinctual carryon. None of that animalistic,

base behavior. None of the ridiculous shifting forms that made her vulnerable and

exposed her to shit she didn’t want.

She was a cop, not a flying damn lizard. She was a woman with free will, not a

beast incapable of finding a partner without Fate and freaky genetics. Not a mindless

creature instantly bound and irrevocably joined to some stranger the moment they

swapped saliva.

Lexxie Couper

She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t. That’s what her sister had been, and look what

happened to her. Betrayed by her Fire Mate, her own damn kind, and given to the

Extraho Venator. Handed over to the dragon hunters by the dragon who was meant to

love her beyond comprehension or condition.

Kenna wasn’t going to let that happen to her. And if the guy outside with the oh-so-

clever tongue and cheeky grin and wicked dimples thought otherwise, he was in for a

damn surprise.

She stopped pacing, snatched her Glock from where she’d dumped it in the basin,

pulled it from its holster and cocked the hammer. “Right.” She swung to the door and

yanked it open with her free hand, not even bothering to dress. “That’s it.”

Rick Hayes’ mouth fell open as she stormed toward him across the waiting room.

Possibly because she still wore nothing on her bottom half. Possibly because she was

leveling her police-issue weapon at his chest. Possibly both.

Kenna didn’t care. Or stop.
Not until she was inches from where he stood, gaping at her.
She rammed the muzzle of her gun under his chin, snaring a fistful of his collar to

stop him from fleeing. “Tell me who the fuck you really are, Dr. Hayes, before I blow

your goddamn head off.”

“Err…”
Kenna let out a choked roar. “Don’t ‘err’ me!” She drove the gun harder into his

chin, balling her fist tighter on his collar. Disgust surged through her, but for Rick

Hayes or herself, she didn’t know. “I want answers and I want them now. You have

until three. One…”

His mouth worked. Sound, however, didn’t.
“Two…”
“I really don’t—”
She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the exquisite fire licking through her veins, the

eager throbbing in her sex and the hungry cry of her dragon at his close proximity.

Damn, was that an erection she felt bumping against her stomach? “Three.”

“Okay okay okay!” He frantically waved his raised hands. “I think I was a Druid in

a former life who somehow or another joined with a dragon in some kind of funky

ancient ritual.”

The statement burst from him in a frantic flood of shouted words, his stare locked

on her face.

And yes, she’d been correct—it was an erection. A big one.
Her dragon screeched her approval. Scalding fire razed her body.
She shoved his chin higher with the Glock. “You’re a what?”
Rick swallowed, his Adam’s apple jumping up and down in his throat. “I think I

was a Druid in a former life. All these memories just slammed into me that sure as shit

How to Love Your Dragon

weren’t mine, but…the second I experienced them, I knew they were mine. And it

explains the whole ‘commune with animals, connect with cosmic energy’ shit I’ve been

able to do for fucking ever.”

Kenna stared at him. She didn’t know what else to do.
“And the second I saw your eyes this afternoon, I was overwhelmed with the

urge—no, the compulsion—to fuck your brains out over and over again until neither of

us could move.”

The confession punched out her breath. “Okay,” she muttered. “That wasn’t exactly

what I was expecting.”

But it’s what you want. The fucking over and over again part, yes?
A choked chuckle bubbled up Rick’s throat. “No shit, Sherlock.”
She frowned, refusing to acknowledge the molten need claiming her. Not until she

had answers.

And then? Will you impale yourself on his very impressive erection then? Because the

mating fire never lies, Kenna. You know that. And Druid, dragon or whatever, if you don’t

consummate the mating soon, things will get a little wild.

She narrowed her eyes. “So…a Druid?”
He nodded. Or at least tried to. Her gun pressed to his chin made it difficult.
Kenna’s belly twisted. Dragons and Druids of ancient times had long existed in a

harmonious relationship…to a point. Truth be known, it was all very vague to Kenna.

The night her sister’s Fire Mate betrayed her to the Extraho Venator was the night Kenna

lost any interest in her kind. She’d been young when that happened, barely one

hundred and thirty-seven, but all dragon shifters knew of the ancient Druids.

What Kenna didn’t know was how one could be a dragon shifter’s Fire Mate.
Damn, she was woefully unprepared for this.
Get away. Now. You’ve got twelve hours before you need to deal with this. By then you’ll

have regained control of your body and your mind. Until you do that…

No, not twelve. She’d first connected with Rick three hours ago, when she’d pulled

him over for speeding. Which meant she only had nine.

As if to prove a point, her sex constricted, still acutely aware of the man standing so

close she could feel his breath on her face, still feel his erection against her belly.

Her pussy gave a hungry throb, bringing with it a wave of heat that turned her

blood to liquid fire and threatened to turn her mind to feverish mush. The mating fire.

Damn it.

Get out of here, Kenna. Before whatever the Druid is doing to you finds you parting your

thighs and begging him for—

She took a step back and lowered her gun. “I can’t stay here.”
Rick’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going? I don’t mean to sound clingy or anything,

hell, I’m the first to run when things get intense—and I think what’s going on between

Lexxie Couper

us blows ‘intense’ out of the water. But you can’t just drop words like ‘dragon’, ‘shifter’

and ‘mate’ and then fuck off.”

“Yes, I can.”
Rick took a step toward her, effectively destroying the little space she’d put

between them. “No. You can’t.”

She shoved her gun back under his chin. Not very professional, to be sure, but

professional went out the window with her first orgasm. “You seem to forget who

you’re talking to—a cop with a gun.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “And you seem to forget who you’re talking to—the man

who just made you come with his tongue.”

A million pinpricks of heat lashed over Kenna. Not just at Rick’s very true

statement, but also at his faint scent streaming into her body with every ragged breath

she pulled. Her pussy clenched, her womb felt heavy. Her nipples pinched into painful

tips of want.

She stared up at him, her pulse pounding with such force she wondered in a distant

part of her mind why the windows weren’t rattling.

“I’m curious, Officer Mackay…” His voice was barely a whisper, his gaze an

inescapable hold. “If I’m the Druid in this relationship, not the dragon shifter, what does

that make you?”

Kenna swallowed. Or tried to. Her throat felt so damn thick, her mouth so damn

dry. “There’s no relationship.”

The corner of Rick’s mouth curled. “Bullshit.”
He kissed her. Just lowered his head and, before she could stop him, brushed his

lips over hers.

Before you could stop him? Really? You could have stopped him, Kenna. You just didn’t.
Nor did she stop him after his tongue touched her bottom lip.
Step away. Now.
The thought was insistent. And smart. But she couldn’t. She knew she had to get

her head around what had happened, what was happening, but she couldn’t step away.

Not when he kissed her the way he did.

Oh Kenna, what are you doing? Why aren’t you stopping him? Because you can’t? Or

because…

She didn’t know nearly enough about her kind. She realized that now. She’d spent

so long denying what she was, this mating fire situation was too much for her to digest.

She knew how long she had to consummate the mating. She knew what would happen

to her if she didn’t. What she didn’t know was how a human, albeit one of Druid

decent, could be her Fire Mate. And how to undo it.

Because as sexy and attractive and masterful as Rick Hayes was, Kenna wasn’t

going to be anyone’s Fire Mate. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let herself be a

dragon.

How to Love Your Dragon

One more kiss. Just one…
The tempting thought almost undid her. Or maybe it was Rick’s tongue, slipping

over hers with a tenderness both surprising and deliciously intoxicating.

Oh yes, just one more. One more kiss, one more orgasm, one more…
She jerked away.
Her dragon screeched, furious at being denied contact with Rick.
Your Fire Mate. It doesn’t matter what he is or isn’t. He’s your Fire Mate and you’re

running out of time to do something about it.

She shook her head, her stare locked on the man. “This can’t happen, Dr. Hayes.

You have no idea what’s going on. Forget we ever met.”

“What can’t happen? What don’t I have an idea about? What is a Fire Mate?”
His questions came fast. She shook her head again. “It doesn’t matter.”
Dark anger flickered in his blue eyes. His nostrils flared. “It does matter. I’m a

player, Officer Mackay, I have no qualms admitting that, and you’re not the first

woman I’ve fooled around with hours after meeting her. But you are the first woman to

call me a dragon shifter, and by fuck, you’re the first woman to make me ache with such

monumentally powerful lust I can’t even think of a word to describe it. It’s like I’m

burning up. It’s like I’m on fire.

“I want you. I lust after you. I bloody well need you. Every fiber in my body, every

cell, is screaming at me to take you in my arms and make love to you. Not just fuck you,

but claim you. Possess you. And even someone as flippant as me knows that’s not

natural. Not human. So tell me, before you go running out that door, what are you,

what is a Fire Mate, and when the fuck am I going to sink my dick into your cunt and

make you mine?”

His voice became a growl, his stare fixed on her, his jaw bunching. Waves of raw

lust radiated from Rick. Kenna only needed to draw a quick, shallow breath to taste it

on the air, hot and sweet and masculine all at once. He was in the grips of the mating

fire just like she was, and if she stood still for a second longer, he’d throw himself at her

and neither would be able to resist what would happen next.

Let him.
She took another step backward. The cool air-conditioning of the waiting room felt

like a million icy kisses on her feverish flesh, her moist sex. Her gut twisted. Her nipples

puckered, her breasts grew heavy and swollen.

“Tell me, Officer Mackay.”
The command caressed her senses. Made her head swim. Made her pussy throb.
“I’m a dragon shifter,” she ground out. “You’re my Fire Mate, the man fated to be

my partner in every way—emotional, physical and mental—for the rest of our lives.

And you are never going to stick your dick in my—”

The clinic’s bell dinged.

Lexxie Couper

Kenna spun on her heel, her face flooding with shame. Oh God, they’d forgotten to

lock the door? They’d been so overcome by the mating fire they’d forgotten to look the

damn door?

“It’s just me, Dr. Hayes. I wanted to bring Barney his sleeping—” Mrs. Beaumont

stood in the clinic’s open doorway, one hand resting on the doorknob, the other

grasping a tattered, fur-covered baby’s blanket, her eyes wide, her expression shocked.

“Officer Mackay? Why aren’t you wearing your trousers?”

Rick watched Officer Mackay bolt to the restroom. Damn it, he really needed to find

out her first name. If he was going to spend the rest of his life with her, he had to call

her something other than—

Rest of your life? So you’re buying into the whole Fire Mate thing?
He blinked. It seemed he was.
Because it’s real. You know that. The bottomless, unfathomable ache for the woman tells you

that. The same way the…the fire for her does. You’re her Fire Mate. Her destined, fated partner.

Face it, Yorick, you have no freaking clue what the fuck is going on and the only one who can

give you answers just fled into the loo.

He let out a ragged breath, turning to Mrs. Beaumont and waving his arm toward

the recovery rooms. “Just through there, doll.”

She frowned, her lips pursing a little, her gaze flicking to the closed restroom door

before she shuffled from the waiting room, leaving him alone. Christ, what kind of

messed-up day was this turning out to be? His gut was a ball of desperate, frustrated

need, his cock a rigid pole demanding attention—Officer Mackay’s attention—and she,

his Fire Mate, was hiding out in the toilet.

What the hell did he do next?
Before the answer could come to him, Officer Mackay stormed out of the loo and

toward the door, fully dressed, gun holstered, face set.

“Hey!” he called, moving to follow her.
She stopped, turned to glare at him, pointed a silent finger as if to say, “don’t even

try” and then all but sprinted to the door—and was gone.

Well, she really has fled the scene now, hasn’t she, Yorick?
“Dr. Hayes?”
Rick started at Mrs. Beaumont’s voice. Damn it, he’d already forgotten about

Barney’s owner. He faced her, offering a smile as she closed the post-op/recovery room

door. “How is he, Mrs. Beaumont?”

Mrs. Beaumont’s face split into a wide smile. “He’s wonderful. He licked my hand

when I gave him the blanket and he looks so spry already. You are a very talented vet,

Dr. Hayes.”

Rick brushed off the compliment. “I just do what I do.”
The druid’s dragon she is beautiful join with me dragon join with me and I shall be re…

How to Love Your Dragon

The memory slammed into him, the same memory as before, his hands performing

a ritual he didn’t understand, but this time there were more details. Vivid and hyper-

saturated memories. His hands were glistening, his fingers stained with crimson liquid.

His voluminous sleeves, coarse white wool, dripped with the same. The air hung heavy

with the scent of copper and charcoal and sulfur. The dragon’s cries echoed through

his—

“Dr. Hayes?” Mrs. Beaumont’s voice scratched at Rick’s mind. “Are you okay? I

know I interrupted you and Officer Mackay during…well, I know I interrupted you,

but you do look—”

Rick shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut on the disquieting memory. “Sorry.”

He opened his eyes and tried to refocus. “Just a bit of a headache.” His gut churned, his

head swam and, beneath it all, his cock throbbed and his body craved. Burned.

Need her need my Fire Mate need her—
I shall be re—
“Do you believe in reincarnation, Mrs. Beaumont?”
The question fell from Rick before he could stop it.
The sweet old thing before him nodded earnestly. “Oh, very much so. I know

without doubt Barney is my long-dead husband reincarnated.”

Rick blinked at the elderly woman’s claim.
“Barney will only eat chicken with sweet potato, and that was my dear old Ivan’s

favorite meal. And Barney won’t leave his balls alone, just like Ivan.” She paused, a soft

frown pulling at her penciled eyebrows. “Although Ivie played with his balls with his

hands, not his tongue like Barney, although I do believe if my husband could have

licked his balls, he would have.”

The laugh was out of Rick before he could stop it. Mrs. Beaumont gave him a warm

smile, obviously not in the least offended. Still, he felt he should apologize. “I didn’t

mean—”

She shook her head. “Don’t be concerned. Tell me though, why did you ask?”
Druid the druid’s dragon she is beautiful join with me dragon join with me and I shall be

re—

His hands glisten, his heart races. Lifting the sprig of sage, he shakes it over the dragon’s

bowed head and with a single stroke—

Rick sucked in a breath. There was far more to the memory that time. Not enough

to know what was going on, just enough to tease him. What was he doing with the

dragon? Why was it watching him, its head lying on a lush bed of grass? Was it a

female dragon? It sure felt like it, and somehow that was important. Significant. And

what the fuck was on his hands? And why did his heart race now just thinking about it?

“Dr. Hayes?”
He returned his attention to the elderly woman standing in front of him. “No

reason. Just thinking it would be great to come back as one of your pets.”

Lexxie Couper

Mrs. Beaumont’s smile grew wider. Her cheeks turned a faint pink. “Well, that’s

very sweet of you, Dr. Hayes, but I do believe you’re flattering me. Especially given the

state of dress in which I found Officer Mackay. Where is she? I hope she didn’t leave on

my behalf?”

The pit of Rick’s stomach tightened at Officer Mackay’s name. His cock twitched. If

it were possible, he’d say his blood ran hot in his veins.

Need her need my Fire Mate need her—
“She didn’t,” he almost gasped. “She had a call to get to.”
Mrs. Beaumont lifted an eyebrow. A very skeptical eyebrow. “Hmm, well, please

give her my best when you see her next.”

Rick found himself nodding. See her next? Yes, that’s what he had to do. See her.

Hold her. Fuck her. Mate with her.

Make love to her.
Now.
“Mrs. Beaumont, what do you know about dragons?”
Now why the hell had he asked that question? Where the hell had his brain gone?
Out the door. With Officer Mackay.
The old dog owner chuckled. “Only what the movies tell me. My granddaughter

loves watching one about a boy who trains a dragon. I don’t know what it’s called, but

it’s quite lovely. Oh, and there’s that one with James Bond doing the voice. Now there’s

a dragon I’d like to train. He could share Barney’s chicken and sweet potato any—”

Need her need my Fire Mate need her…
“Of course, Barney would be jealous but Ivan would understand. He got lucky

many a night after a James Bond movie played on the…”

Need my Fire Mate need to hold her taste her oh Christ need to bury myself inside her and…
“Sure they’re just a myth, but who really knows? The myth had to come from

some…”

Lifting the sprig of sage, he shakes it over the dragon’s bowed head and with a single stoke,

performs the final rite of the…

“And I do believe there’s something quite romantic about dragons, don’t you, Dr.

Hayes?”

Rick started, his pulse pounding in his neck like a wild drummer on speed. He

swallowed. Romantic? That wasn’t exactly the word he was thinking of to describe

what was happening between him and Officer Mackay.

No. But it should be. It will be. As long as you—
“Mrs. Beaumont?” He gave Barney’s owner a frown. “Do you know Officer

Mackay’s first name?”

This time both of the old woman’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t?”
He shook his head.

How to Love Your Dragon

And that was when the disgust fell over Mrs. Beaumont’s softly wrinkled face, a

face—up until this point—filled only with adoration for Rick. “Kenna. Her name is

Kenna. She told me while you were operating on Barney. Of course, I assumed you

knew that, Dr. Hayes, given that I found her half-dressed and disheveled in your

presence.” Her lips pursed into a tight ring of disapproval. “Perhaps you aren’t the

person I thought you were.”

“I—”
But Mrs. Beaumont didn’t wait for whatever response Rick hoped to God was

coming out of his mouth. With a derisive sniff, a disgusted head-to-toe inspection and

another sniff, she turned on her heel and hurried to the door. The bell above it danced

with jerky excitement, the sounds of the street beyond rushed into the silence of the

waiting room, and then Mrs. Beaumont turned back to Rick, her eyes beyond

disapproving. “You may be a talented vet, Dr. Hayes, but I fear your morals are lacking

too much for my liking.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. He had to. He didn’t have anything else in his

repertoire for dealing with such open disdain. “Does it help if I say she’s my Fire

Mate?”

Mrs. Beaumont’s lips pursed with even more sour disapproval. “I don’t want to

know what you call it.” And with that, she stepped through the door and slammed it

shut behind her.

Rick stared at her blurry shape through the frosted glass. A whirlwind of options

presented themselves to his befuddled brain—chasing after Mrs. Beaumont,

apologizing, making up some story about pranking her, telling her he was kidding,

offering to treat Barney free of charge—but he didn’t bother with any of them.

He crossed to the door, flipped the lock and then ran across the waiting room,

vaulting the reception counter in a single, one-armed jump.

Snatching the computer mouse from its resting place, he swiped it over the desk,

waking the shiny Mac he’d recently purchased for Rose. One click later he was online,

and sixteen key strikes after that he was looking at what was possibly going to drive

him insane or answer all his questions.

He stared at the Google page before him, at all the results presented, before reading

the top result.

The Dragon—Animal Symbols of the Celtic Druid.
His stomach knotted once again and his pulse gained speed.
“Yorick Hayes…welcome to Wonderland.”

Lexxie Couper

Chapter Four

Two hours later, sporting a boner so hard it hurt to even think about, his head

spinning with everything he’d just read, Rick slumped back in his chair. Holy crap, if

even half of what he’d just read was true, he was…

Still in the bloody dark.
He let out a frustrated growl, swiping the mouse across the counter. Damn it, how

could just about every site be so vague despite being so verbose? The closest he’d come

to understanding anything about Druids and their relationship with dragons was the

copious number of Dungeons & Dragons sites he’d read, and quite frankly, he was

beginning to question the sanity of the authors of most of them.

Wikipedia offered some supposedly sound information. And just when he thought

he had his head around things—Druids, especially the Celtic Druids, were mystical

men of religion attuned to the earth and ancient cosmic forces, who performed

benevolent rituals to aid those in need—he clicked on another site that claimed the

Druids were into human sacrifices and the Romans were scared of them.

Closing his eyes, Rick pictured the old, gray-bearded Druid Getafix, from the

Asterix comics he’d read as a kid. That old bugger certainly hadn’t performed human

sacrifices, but he had pissed the Romans off.

And this is your go-to source now, is it? A kids’ comic book written by a French dude back

in the seventies?

He let out a growl. After spending the last one hundred and twenty minutes

reading diddlysquat reliable info on the internet, it appeared it was. At least the Asterix

comics didn’t have him butchering virgins to achieve his goals.

His hands glisten, his heart races. Lifting the—
The snippet of memory slammed into him and his stomach churned. His mind told

him exactly what his hands glistened with.

Blood. But whose?
Rick’s gut rolled again. Something deep inside him said he didn’t want the answer.
Christ, if his past self had indulged in nefarious deeds involving blood and

dragons, what did that make his reaction to Officer Kenna Mackay now? Was it really

lust and desire scorching and throbbing through his body, turning his dick to a rod of

steel? Or something darker? Something…bad?

A sour taste filled his mouth. He’d found nothing on the Web about Fire Mates.

He’d found sweet fuck all about dragons in Sydney. Google told him there was a clip of

one flying about at the cliff face known as the Gap but when he clicked on the link,

YouTube told him the clip no longer existed.

How to Love Your Dragon

So, two hours no further in front. And he was still as horny as he’d been when

Kenna had been perched on the very counter he now sat at, her thighs spread, her

moans caressing his senses, his tongue buried deep in her sweet, wet pussy.

The thought sent fresh, tight heat to his core and his cock jerked. Christ, he was

burning up. In pain. If he didn’t come soon, his balls were going to explode.

And note to self—wash the counter before Monday.
He sucked in a shaky breath and bit back a curse as the faint scent of Kenna’s juices,

still lingering on his lips and chin, flowed through his nose.

“Ah fuck.”
Teeth grinding, sweat popping out on his forehead, Rick yanked open his fly.
Unhindered by underwear, his cock burst free, its thick girth parting the snug

denim of his jeans as if impatient for freedom. The cool air of the waiting room

wrapped around it, blisteringly cold against the fevered flesh.

Rick hissed in another breath, taking more of Kenna’s pleasure into his being. A

violent spasm claimed his cock, the metal teeth of his fly scraping at the delicate skin of

the root. He groaned, the pain almost too exquisite to tolerate. Shucking his jeans over

his hips, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft. It pulsed in his grip, hotter and stiffer

than he’d believed possible.

An image came to him, Kenna lying on his bed, her body gloriously bereft of

clothing, her spine arched, her thighs parted. Her fingers slipped into her sodden cunt,

her nipples puckering to hard tips as he slid his tongue up the length of her belly. She

moaned in his head, a sound Rick knew was really his own groan.

Squeezing his cock, he pumped it once, twice. Hot pleasure flooded his body,

sinking into the base of his spine, radiating up through his stomach. His toes curled in

his boots. He closed his eyes, dropping his head against the chair’s backrest. His cock

throbbed in his hand and he pumped it again, again. In his head, Kenna withdrew her

fingers from her cunt and lifted them to her breasts, painting first one and then the

other with the creamy juices of her pleasure.

“Taste me,” she murmured in his mind, her eyes shimmering an iridescent emerald.

“Feast on me.”

He did as asked. He knew it wasn’t real, knew it was his imagination, but the

second Rick’s tongue flicked over her cream-slicked nipple, fierce pleasure and

elemental desire surged through him and his cock grew fatter and harder in his hand.

Christ…
He fisted his erection, faster and faster. The side of his hand smacked into his balls,

painfully exquisite strikes that only propelled him closer to the edge. An edge he

needed to fall over soon. Before he lost his sanity.

You’re jacking off to the thought of a cop who’s really a dragon. Think sanity has long left

the building, Yorick.

Lexxie Couper

The truth didn’t dampen his arousal. On the contrary. His dick twitched insistently

in his grip and his balls throbbed. Daring to open his eyes, he cast his frenzied

handiwork a quick look. The sight made him groan. Beads of pre-come anointed his

cock head, turning it into a wet, bulbous purple dome. The tiny slit at the end winked at

him with every savage pump of his hand, releasing more fluid onto his flesh. It slicked

his fingers, stupidly hypnotic to look at. He pictured Kenna’s tongue licking his

pleasure from his cock, pictured her hands cupping his balls.

Shards of tension twisted through him, turning his entire body into a bundle of

indescribable need. He let out another groan, the sensation close to undoing him. He’d

jerked off plenty—what healthy male didn’t?—but never had it felt like this. Like the

very fabric of his existence depended on his release. And yet, at the same time, every

molecule in his body called for more. Strained and craved for that which wasn’t there.

His Fire Mate.
Kenna.
He needed Kenna. He was about to fucking erupt, was about to paint the ceiling of

the waiting room with his come, was about to scream with an orgasm he knew would

burn through him like molten lava—and it wasn’t enough.

He needed Kenna or it was just wasted energy.
He needed her, needed to be inside her. Needed to breathe her in, taste her sweat,

feel her heartbeat, hear her cries of pleasure. Needed to see her climax as his dick

pounded into her body.

It made fuck-all sense, but he needed her desperately. This hand-job was just

stoking the fire.

Fire.
Fire Mate.
Need her need my Fire Mate need her…
He came.
With a roar. His hips bucking with furious, rhythmless power. Thick ropes of come

spurted from his engorged cock, coating his fingers, his wrist, the counter, the

keyboard.

He came, Kenna in his head.
And just as the last of his seed dribbled from his cock, just as every muscle in his

body trembled with delicious exertion, the memory smashed into him.

His hands glisten, his heart races. Lifting the sprig of sage, he shakes it over the dragon’s

bowed head and with a single stroke, performs the final rite of the soul’s passage, the final thrust

of the knife into flesh primed with trust and love and—

Rick jerked to his feet. The chair clattered to the floor behind him with jarring

volume but he didn’t notice.

How to Love Your Dragon

His heart leapt into his throat, his cock jerking with entirely unnatural staying

power. His breath tore from him in ragged gasps and his stare flicked around the empty

waiting room in horror.

He swiped at his mouth with his clean hand, his pulse far too fast for comfort.

Knife? Knife? And flesh? Jesus, what kind of Druid had he been?

And why the fuck was he getting a new hard-on just thinking about it?

* * * * *

Kenna studied the ornate steel door before her. On the other side, somewhere

within the massive, architecturally designed mansion, was a creature she’d sworn over

forty-two years ago never to have anything to do with again. Not the resident himself,

of course. She’d never met him. But his kind.

She ignored the little voice that whispered, Your kind, you mean? She had hoped to

never again deal with another dragon shifter.

Of course, that was before Rick Hayes decided to break the speed limit.
She curled her hands into fists, driving her fingernails into her palms. The resulting

pain was meant to settle her flustered mind. It didn’t work. Instead, it made her think of

the way Rick’s nails had scraped over her flesh as his tongue swiped and licked her to a

mind-blowing orgasm.

Her nipples pinched hard, her pussy constricted and her heart skipped a beat.
“Damn it, Kenna.” She ground her teeth. “Stop it.”
Closing her eyes, she drew in a slow breath, counted to ten and exhaled. The effect

on her body was minimal but it was enough. Her heart rate returned to its normal pace,

her sex stopped squeezing a cock that wasn’t there and her belly stopped twisting. For

the moment at least, she was under some semblance of control.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Let’s do this.”
She opened her eyes, lifted her arm and knocked three times on the door.
Silence greeted her.
Despite the driving urge to turn tail and run, she knocked again. Another three

sharp raps.

And bit back a whimper of dismay when the faint echo of footfalls sounded on the

other side of the door.

Quick. Run now. Before he opens the—
The door swung open.
Kenna’s breath caught in her throat.
Too late.
A tall man with shaggy black hair and dark, dark eyes stood in a stunningly trendy

foyer, his sublime physique and undeniable power highlighted by snug black jeans and

Lexxie Couper

an equally snug black polo shirt. He cast her a slow perusal, from head to toe to head

again, a subtle tension falling over his muscles as he did so.

“You’re in the mating fire,” Tyson Conley noted, his voice a deep, baritone rumble.
Kenna nodded, staring hard at Sydney’s most powerful dragon shifter, a man to

whom she’d never spoken a word. “How do I stop it?”

Tyson burst out laughing, a wholly unabashed sound that tore at Kenna’s tenuous

calm. “Stop it?” He grinned, all signs of his earlier tension gone. “You can’t. All you can

do is fuck your Fire Mate and enjoy the ride.”

“It’s not funny. And I’m not fucking anyone.”
Tyson’s lips twitched as he crossed tanned arms over his broad chest. “Officer, if

you don’t fuck your Fire Mate soon, you’re going to shift into your dragon form and

stay that way until you consummate your bond. How long ago did you first come into

contact with him?”

Kenna’s stomach fluttered at the question. “Two-thirty this afternoon.”
Tyson’s eyebrows shot up. “So, just over six hours ago? Which leaves you only six

more. I’d suggest you get a move on, because I’m not in the mood to organize a media

scrub of your sighting when that happens.”

Kenna glared at him, deliberately resting her hand on the butt of her Glock. She’d

picked up her own car but had intentionally worn her uniform, hoping it would tell

Tyson Conley she wasn’t easily intimidated. However, it seemed that intimidating her

wasn’t part of Tyson’s plan. Pointing out the flaws of being a dragon shifter and

laughing at her…those seemed to be his first choices.

She shifted on her feet, doing her best to appear taller. It didn’t work. Not when

compared to him. What was the guy? Eight-foot-twelve?

“You seem to have done a decent job of ‘scrubbing’ the media of your sightings,

however,” she snarled. And yes, it was a snarl. Damn it, her dragon was getting closer

and closer to the surface.

Instead of getting angry at her comment, Tyson Conley laughed again. “No one

ever said being a dragon shifter in today’s world of smartphones was easy, Officer.

Now tell me, why don’t I know of you? I was under the impression there were no

female dragon shifters in Sydney.”

“I keep to myself.”
Tyson studied her again. “And you haven’t been in Australia for long, judging by

your accent. Where are you from?”

Kenna clenched her jaw. “I didn’t come here to chitchat. I came here to find out how

to stop the mating fire. There must be a way.”

Tyson shook his head. “Nope. Nada. Zilch.” His lips twitched again. Kenna

couldn’t believe the grinning man before her was the same dragon she’d heard about,

his name whispered in hushed tones of reverent awe. The guy seemed to take things as

seriously as Rick.

How to Love Your Dragon

At the unbidden thought of her Fire Mate, prickling heat raced over Kenna’s body.

Her pussy started its hungry, demanding throb again, her nipples pinching into aching

points.

Oh you idiot.
Tyson’s eyes narrowed. His nostril flared. “It seems to me you’re running out of

time, Officer…?”

Kenna scrunched up her face, scrubbing at it with her hands. Hands that were, she

was dismayed to realize, trembling noticeably. “This isn’t a social visit!” she snapped. “I

just want answers and you’re my only hope. And you don’t need to know my name, do

you understand? I want nothing to do with dragons. Not today, not tomorrow, not

ever!”

Tyson’s eyebrows shot up. “Bit tricky when you’ve already met your Fire Mate, I

would say.”

“He’s not a dragon.”
The statement wiped the mirth from Tyson Conley’s face. “He’s human?”
Kenna’s mouth suddenly felt dry. She shook her head. Nodded it. Shook it again.

Oh God, what the hell was going on with her? “Druid.”

The title croaked from her, an image of Rick filling her mind. Deep inside her

existence, her dragon stirred, as if testing the binds of Kenna’s control.

Tyson studied her, an intensity in his expression. It was intimidating. And he

seemed somehow…unsurprised.

Her cop instincts kicked in, overriding her preternatural ones. Did he know

something about her?

No, he’s already professed ignorance of your existence in Sydney. So it’s something else.
“Druid?”
She nodded. “Tell me what you know.”
When Tyson’s gaze flicked to the side, Kenna could have sworn he fought the urge

to look back over his shoulder into his opulent home. Then he was reaching out and

resting his hand on the heavy doorknob. “Officer This-Is-Not-A-Social-Visit, let me say

this as clearly as I can. The mating fire cannot be ignored. It cannot be stopped and it

cannot be denied. And from what I can smell on your person, you’ve already begun the

joining.”

“But—”
A blast of heat slammed into her and she blinked, gaping at the man standing in

front of her. Whoa, how had he done that? And why? Anger? He didn’t look angry. The

complete opposite, in fact.

He fixed her with an unwavering gaze. “No buts, Officer. While I’d love to get to

know more about you, specifically why you want nothing to do with our kind, you’re

running out of time. You’re running out of time and you’re running out of control. I can

see it in your eyes. Take it from me—you don’t want to push the time limit on this. A

Lexxie Couper

horny female dragon hungry for her human Fire Mate presents all sorts of images I

don’t want to consider.”

Kenna’s head was suddenly filled with the image of Rick Hayes running full-sprint,

his face etched in terror, as a massive white dragon shuffled after him, wings wide and

flapping, tail lashing side to side.

Her stomach flip. And flopped. Oh boy, she hadn’t pictured her dragon form in

over forty years, and this was the first image she got?

More disturbing was how quickly her body responded to the image. Flush after

flush swept over her, tremendous heat that sought out her most intimate places. Like

fingers of fire caressing her nipples, her inner thighs…like tongues of liquid heat

lapping at her sex, her clit, her anus.

She sucked in a swift breath and, God help her, tasted Rick.
How was that possible?
Tyson lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah, I think it’s time you go do what your dragon is

telling you to do—and if your Druid is who I think he is, we’ll see you for dinner

tomorrow night.”

And with that, Tyson Conley, Kenna’s only font of dragon-shifter knowledge

beyond her woefully limited own, grinned at her and closed the door firmly in her face.

For a stunned moment, Kenna stared at it. For another one, she considered banging

her fist on the door, pulling her Glock and demanding Tyson tell her what the hell that

last bit meant, the part about dinner. Her fingertips even moved to her gun holster.

And then a wave of fire tore over her body so demanding, so hot,

so…so…engulfing, she could do little but double over and whimper, image after image

after image of Rick filling her head, burning her alive.

Need him. Want him. Oh God, I need…
She forced herself upright. Swinging her gaze to her car, she forced her lungs to

pull in ragged breaths.

Ambiguity and mystery aside, Tyson Conley was right about one thing—she was

running out of time. It had been more than six hours since she’d first encountered Rick

Hayes. Since the mating fire began. That left her little time. If she didn’t have sex with

him soon, Druid or not, Kenna was shifting into her other form and the unthinkable

would happen. She would remain a dragon until she and Rick consummated the

mating fire. And forcing sex on a guy while she was all huge and scaly and beasty was

something too hideous to contemplate.

She swiped a shaky hand over her lips. She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t

shift. Which meant she had to find Rick Hayes and fuck him.

After that, she need never see him again.
Sucking in another harsh breath, she began walking to her car. She hoped the vet

was still at his practice, otherwise she was about to break her professional code of

How to Love Your Dragon

conduct and the first rule she’d learned after joining the police force in Sydney—never,

ever use your position of authority for personal reasons.

Kenna clenched her jaw. Surely fucking someone to save their life didn’t count as

personal reasons? Right?

Lexxie Couper

Chapter Five

Masturbating didn’t work. In fact, despite his cock being as rigid as a bloody axe

handle, Rick only had to think about wrapping his hand around it and an onslaught of

memories crashed into him. Memories that made his stomach churn, his head woozy

and his heart race.

Blood-coated-hand memories. Deep-mellifluous-chanting memories. Knife-

wielding memories.

Dragon-stroking memories.
None of them made any sense. They were a vivid assault on his mind, a

kaleidoscope of disconnected images and scenes. Unlike the earlier memories, which

had at least seemed to follow some sort of rational, narrative order, the latest memories

attacking him whenever he tried to wank his hyper hunger for Kenna out of his system

were nauseating in the extreme. Which was a tad inconvenient, seeing as he was on the

verge of complete scrotum detonation.

He paced his living room, watched silently by Hannibal. His ever-stoic Irish

Wolfhound-Mastiff mix didn’t seem the least bit fazed by Rick’s current state. In fact, if

Rick had been less fucked-up, he would have thought the dog knew something he

didn’t.

“Yeah, of course. That’s it. It’s not enough I’m perpetually horny and confused as

all hell, now I’m paranoid.” He threw Hannibal a sideward glance, pulling at the crotch

of his running shorts. They were the loosest item of clothing he owned and every time

they grazed the rigid length of his dick, hot shards of painful desire streaked through

him. At this rate, he’d be storming about his home naked.

Hannibal’s tongue lolled out of his mouth in the closest thing Rick had seen to a

doggy smile. Hannibal normally existed in two states—pestering for a play or licking

his balls. This constant scrutiny of Rick’s feverish pacing was unsettling. Of course, Rick

wasn’t in any real condition to give a flying fuck. Not when he wanted to come and

wanted to shoot himself at the same time. Hell, was this what an animal felt like when

in heat?

Apart from the messed-up past-life memories, most likely.
He stopped, adjusted his shorts again and shot Hannibal another look. “So do you

believe in reincarnation, mutt?”

Hannibal barked out a happy woof, folded himself into a U shape and started

licking his balls.

Rick scowled. “Perfect. I’m being mocked by my dog.”

How to Love Your Dragon

Said dog lifted his massive head, woofed again and went back to his balls. All in all,

it was enough to make Rick consider neutering him.

Thank Christ for Hannibal, the doorbell rang. Not so good for Rick.
He dropped his head, casting his insistent erection a glare as disdainful as the one

cast upon him by dear, sweet Mrs. Beaumont three hours ago. “I’ve had a boner

forever,” he grumbled.

And now you’re going to answer the door with it. This day just keeps getting weirder.
With one final tug at his shorts, he walked through his house to his front door. Two

steps from the foyer, he stopped, scooped up his emergency medical kit from where

he’d dumped it upon arriving home and held it before his groin, hiding his hard-on. He

checked out his slightly hunched reflection in the front door’s polished wood surface.

“Christ, I look like I’m doing a really bad little old lady impersonation. All I need

now is lilac hair and a permanent.”

The doorbell rang again, an insistent shrill that didn’t stop. Whoever was on the

other side wasn’t lifting their finger from the button. Rick bit back a growl. If they

weren’t careful, he’d whack them with his handbag née emergency medical kit.

Wrapping his fingers around the cool stainless steel of the door handle—at least you

get to wrap your fingers around something, Yorick—he gave it a savage twist and an

equally savage pull.

And found himself staring square into the face of Officer Kenna Mackay.
His handbag dropped to the floor. Her stare dropped to his unmistakable erection.
“Err—”
Before he could finish what was becoming a rather pathetic and habitual form of

communication with the woman, she threw herself at him.

Her lips found his mouth, her hand found his dick and in five seconds flat she had

his shorts shoved down over his hips. She palmed his cock with far-from-gentle strokes.

He almost shot his load then and there.

When she tore her mouth from his, spun to the open door and slammed it shut, his

balls throbbed. When she dropped to her knees, closing her lips around his dick and

sucking with plunging force, he all but exploded.

Holy fuck.
His head lolled back. His eyes rolled. He fisted his hands in her hair, making

groaning sounds deep in his throat only ever heard on cheesy skin flicks. This wasn’t a

cheesy skin flick, however. It was real. He was getting head from the woman he ached,

lusted and craved after more than air, and he still knew jack shit about her.

A shard of something speared through him, something so close to morality he

almost missed it. “Wait,” he groaned, tugging at Kenna’s hair. “Wait wait wait!”

Her mouth didn’t stop fucking his cock. In fact, she seemed to suck with greedier

pressure. Her hands found his balls, his arse. She massaged both, all the while feasting

on his engorged length.

Lexxie Couper

Another one of those cheesy groans vibrated low in Rick’s throat, and for a split

second his knees wobbled. “Stop,” he moaned, pulling at her hair as he tried to

withdraw his dick from her mouth. “This…I can’t…” She slid her tongue over the root

of his erection and his plea turned into yet another groan. It felt so good. So fucking

good. So right, so perfect, so…so…

Oh Christ, he was one suck away from coming. Two at best.
He snared his hands in her hair and threw his hips backward.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he ground out, “but you have to stop.”
With a groan closer to a whimper, he staggered back a step. His dick popped free of

Kenna’s tightly sealed lips and whacked against his belly. If he weren’t about to lose his

mind, Rick would have laughed. Instead, he fell back another step as Kenna scurried

forward on her knees, reaching for his cock again, her eyes glazed. Wild.

“Kenna, stop!” He fumbled with his shorts, trying to grab the waistband currently

stretched around his ankles even as he stumbled backward.

His head spun at the lunacy of the situation. Who the hell would have thought Rick

Hayes would stop a beautiful, sexy woman from trying to give him head? But he was.

He had to. He had to know what was going on before he—

Claim her mate with her join with your Fire Mate and—
“Kenna!” Her name burst from him in a shout. “I need you to stop.” He yanked his

shorts up his legs one-handed, the other held out like a shield.

Kenna growled at him. A serious-as-shit growl. “Wanna fuck you.”
He swallowed, his throat tight, his mouth dry. “The feeling’s mutual, honey. Fuck,

is it mutual, but this isn’t right. You’ll hate yourself afterward if we just go at it like—”

“Fire Mates,” she interjected.
Rick shook his head, shoving his rigid dick back into his shorts. Jolts of scalding

pleasure soared through him at the touch of his hand on his flesh, but it was nothing

compared to the concentrated rapture Kenna’s mouth had delivered. “I need more,

Kenna.” His voice left him on a strangled croak. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I

need more. Give me something, anything about yourself. Christ, even a middle name

would—”

“Nicole. Kenna Nicole Mackay.”
The name fell from Kenna’s lips in a pant, and with it, some of the wild fire in her

eyes faded. She blinked, dropping onto her heels in a slump, gazing at Rick with what

he could only describe as stunned disbelief before turning her head away.

“Oh God, what am I doing?”
The raw pain in her voice twisted Rick’s heart. He stepped closer, lowering to a

crouch before her, pressing his fingers to her chin with gentle insistence. For a second

she fought against them and then gave in, slowly turning her face back to his, her eyes

wide.

“You were supposed to make this easy,” she whispered.

How to Love Your Dragon

Rick stroked the pad of his thumb across the velvety softness of her cheek. “Make

what easy, honey?”

“The mating. The joining. I just wanted to fuck and leave.”
The confession was uttered with wretched grief. Rick could hear it in every word.

Hell, he could feel it as well, like a knife in his chest. Whatever was going on between

them, Kenna was just as shocked by it as he was, and obviously displeased. Something

told him, however, when it came to anything sexual, the woman before him didn’t

share his level of experience. Which would make the whole thing so much

more…what? Scary? Intense?

Lowering himself completely to the floor, he pressed his palm to her cheek, holding

her gaze with his. Damn, she was beautiful. “Why leave, Kenna? Am I that repulsive?”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “I’ve been told I’m actually kinda okay to look at. And

apparently I make a mean cup of post-coitus coffee.”

She laughed at his pathetic attempt at humor, a soft chuckle that filled Rick’s chest

with warmth. Or was it his soul that filled with such joy?

You falling for her, Yorick? Like, really falling for her? Or is it the funky Druid-dragon

thing?

He didn’t know. Didn’t care.
Kenna raised her hand to his and removed it from her cheek, lowering it to her lap.

“Don’t make me like you, Rick Hayes. I don’t want to like you.”

Rick couldn’t help but notice she didn’t let his hand go, however, her fingers tracing

small patterns along his as she frowned at him. He let his smile grow a little more. “I tell

you what? How ’bout we start at the beginning. You tell me your story and I’ll tell you

mine. Once that’s done, we’ll decide whether you can like me or not. How’s that

sound?”

She shook her head. “Dangerous.”
“The only thing dangerous about me, honey, is my killer scrambled eggs. Which I’d

like to make for you for breakfast tomorrow if that’s okay?”

The invitation was out of Rick’s mouth before he realized it. He straightened a little,

staring at Kenna. He’d never offered to cook breakfast for a woman, and yet with

Officer Kenna Mackay, he wanted to cook breakfast, dinner, pack her lunch, serve up

dessert as they snuggled on the sofa watching television…

He let out a ragged breath. In the space of a heartbeat, he’d seen a future with the

woman before him—and loved it. Whatever Celtic Druid-dragon magic shit was going

on here, it was more than just rutting like rabbits. Or should that be dragons?

Kenna’s fingers stilled on his. She stared at him, her gaze eating up his face.
Silence stretched for a long moment. It wasn’t until Rick heard a soft chinking

sound that he realized Hannibal had followed him to the door and was now scratching

at the sweet spot behind his ear, his paw disturbing his collar with each swipe.

Lexxie Couper

Holy hell, not only had Rick forgotten about his dog, his dog hadn’t given a rat’s

arse about Kenna. The only people Hannibal let into the house without a kerfuffle was

Rick’s cousin, Sera, and her new husband Tyson.

That Hannibal hadn’t so much as barked once made the hair on the back of Rick’s

neck prickle. And his chest grow warm again.

He twisted his hand a little, threading his fingers through Kenna’s before giving her

another smile. “Stories first. Tell me all about being a dragon.”

Kenna’s breath caught in her throat. Words pummeled her. Words like

“overwhelming”, “scary”, “confusing”.

Words like “loss”, “uncontrolled”, “anger”, “grief”.
She thought of her murdered sister, of the love they’d had for each other until the

betrayal of her Fire Mate. She thought of the decades stretching behind without

connection to another dragon shifter, of the safety in her isolation, of the pain of

shunning her other existence.

Words and thoughts she hadn’t let go of for close to half a century.
She looked at Rick, studied his handsome, roguish face, opened her mouth and

said, “Lonely.”

The truth of the word hit her. Hard. Just as hard as the fact she’d confessed it to a

man who wasn’t a dragon. A Druid who may or may not have some connection to

dragon shifters. Whom she’d known for little more than seven and a half hours.

Seven and a half hours? Oh God, she was running out of time.
Rick’s low chuckle brought her back from the jarring thought. “Okay, I gotta say,

‘lonely’ isn’t the answer I expected.”

Kenna smiled, a slow smile, but a smile all the same. Damn, when was the last time

she’d done that?

When Rick saved Barney the beagle’s life. When Rick told you he couldn’t have saved the

dog without your help. When Rick offered to make you killer scrambled eggs. Rick, Rick, Rick.

“I had an identical twin sister,” she said, her heart thumping hard in her throat. Oh

boy, was she really doing this? “At the age of one hundred and thirty-seven—which is

quite young for a dragon shifter—Ciara met her Fire Mate.”

Kenna stopped. She hadn’t spoken of her sister since Ciara’s death. It hurt too

much. It still did. And yet, when she looked into Rick’s eyes, when she felt his fingers

close around hers a little more firmly, that pain seemed…faceable.

“Benjamin Steele was the dragon-shifter equivalent of a douche bag.” She shook her

head, picturing the over-muscled meathead her sister had been mated to. “He thought

he was the end-all-be-all of our kind, was pretentious and a show-off. He was also

greedy. And by greedy, I mean always out for a buck. Especially when he was on a

gambling kick.”

One of Rick’s eyebrows lifted. “Gee, he sounds like a king among men.”

How to Love Your Dragon

Kenna laughed, a dry, mirthless sound. “When Ciara introduced me to him, they’d

already been mated for over a month. My sister wasn’t happy.” She let out a sigh. “The

thing with predestined mates is, everyone assumes the mating is the most romantic,

wonderful pairing possible. All those authors out there making all that money writing

about destined lovers and soul mates have no idea. It may be gloriously blissful for

some—for most, from what I understand—but not everyone. My sister was one of the

dragons who got screwed over by fate.”

Rick’s face grew serious. His fingers held hers. “Was he cruel to her?”
The last conversation Kenna’d had with her sister, via a telephone connection

between Las Vegas and Columbus, played through Kenna’s head.

Oh God, sis, he’s horrible. The sex is brutal and explosive and horrible—and I can’t say no!

I want it, I beg for it, but he’s horrible. I hate him! I hate him and yet I love him. How can this

be? How does that make sense?

Two weeks later, Kenna learned of Ciara’s death at the hands of the Extraho Venator.

A week after that, she’d discovered Benjamin’s hand in it.

Her stomach rolled.
“He killed her.”
Rick blanched.
“He betrayed her to an order of dragon hunters,” Kenna continued before Rick

could say a word. She needed to get this out. She needed him to understand why,

despite being Fire Mates, she couldn’t take more from him than just a one-time fuck.

And you think Rick is like Benjamin? Really? Or are you using that as an excuse to do what

you always do—keep everyone away?

“He handed her over to an order of dragon hunters as ancient as dragons

themselves for a grand total of two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Jesus.”
Rick’s stunned response was barely more than a whisper.
Kenna swallowed, her throat so tight, drawing breath was nearly impossible. And

yet, underneath it all, like an itch waiting to be scratched, was her hunger for Rick. Her

need for him. It was undeniable and terrifying and it made her want to scream.

Made her want to beg him to claim her now.
Damn, how messed up was the life of a dragon shifter?
“How did you find out?”
A sliver of icy satisfaction filled Kenna at Rick’s question and, more unsettling,

bleak worry. How would he respond to what she was about to say? And why did she

care?

Lifting her chin, she met his gaze with an unwavering stare. “I flew to Vegas, found

him in a bar, got him drunk and asked him to take me to bed. Told him it would help

me feel close to my ‘unfortunately lost’ sister. He agreed readily, gloating about the fact

Lexxie Couper

he was going to live every man’s fantasy—fucking twin sisters. When we were safely

locked in a room in the sleaziest hotel I could find, I gave him a lap dance while

pouring even more whiskey down his throat. When he was so drunk he could barely

speak, I asked him what truly happened to Ciara. He told me, while trying to unbutton

my shirt.”

Rick’s Adam’s apple jerked in his throat. “What did you do?”
“I smashed his head with the whiskey bottle until he was dead.”
He didn’t say a word. Not one. But he didn’t pull away from her either. Whether

that was a good thing or a bad thing, Kenna didn’t know.

She let out a shaky sigh. “I was a cop in Columbus. I knew how to deal with the

crime scene. I cleaned the room, deposited Benjamin’s body in the back of his car, drove

out into the Mojave Desert, shifted into my dragon form and incinerated the lot. All that

was left of Benjamin Steele when I shifted back was the shell of a burnt-out Buick and a

pillar of black ash—and the ash dissipated in the wind as I stood there.”

She stopped.
God, she hadn’t told anyone what she’d just shared with Rick, and he wasn’t a

dragon. He was human. Even with his Druid past life, he was still a human. Still bound

by the laws of mankind—and she’d just confessed to murder.

Kenna turned away, her gaze flicking over the positively colossal dog asleep on the

floor to her left. Had it always been there? How had she missed seeing it until now?

Was she that lost to her—

“Did you feel better?” Rick’s voice was low. Steady.
“I did. For a day. Then I quit the force, drove to the airport and bought a one-way

ticket to Australia. I wanted to get as far away as I could from dragon shifters and I

figured there wouldn’t be many here.” She chuckled, shaking her head as she looked

back at Rick. “I was wrong.”

He studied her. Nothing about his face told her what he was thinking. Damn it,

why didn’t female dragon shifters have the ability to read their mates’ minds, as male

shifters did? It seemed woefully unfair.

“But if you hadn’t come here, you never would have met me, correct?”
She blinked at his question, her pulse pounding in her ears. “No. I wouldn’t have.”
A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he lifted his hand to her face,

cupping her jaw with a gentle caress. “Then how can it be wrong?”

Before she could answer, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss

unlike any she’d experienced. Soft, tender, reverent.

Loving.
And just like that, the mating fire simmering through her body and soul for the

entire telling of her sister’s fate blazed into a ravenous inferno.

How to Love Your Dragon

Chapter Six

There was no coming back from it. No resisting or trying to flee. Rick’s lips moved

over her mouth with a mastery of sensual exploration. He coaxed her lips apart with

gentle swipes of his tongue. Just when Kenna thought she would burn alive from such a

tender kiss alone, he delved into her mouth, his tongue finding hers, swirling over it,

claiming it.

A low whimper sounded at the back of her throat. Her pussy constricted with

demanding need. Time was running out, the minutes were ticking by, but she’d be

damned if she was going to hurry Rick. Not when it felt so good just being kissed by

him.

With a whimper closer to a moan, she crawled onto his lap, wrapped her legs

around his hips, her arms around his back and pulled his body flush with hers.

His thick, hard cock nudged at her pussy, pressing at her clit through the material

of their clothes. Kenna rolled her hips, ribbons of pleasure unfurling through her core,

another whimper vibrating in her throat. His heart thumped fast, each beat in perfect

harmony with her own. Neither was naked but she’d never felt so close to a living soul

as she did now. It was surreal and magical and perfect.

It was the fire mating. And she was willing to burn in its force.
She swiped her tongue over Rick’s, grinding her sex against the insistent bulge of

his trapped cock. He groaned into her mouth, or maybe he growled. Kenna wasn’t sure,

but the carnal hunger of the sound flooded her sex with moisture.

A million kisses of heat danced over her flesh, so painfully delicious, for a moment

Kenna was overcome. Her head lolled back, the very center of her existence thrumming.

Rick’s lips scored a path down her chin, her throat. His teeth nipped at her collarbone

before he journeyed back up to her mouth.

“I want to be inside you, Kenna. I want to be inside you now, but fuck me, I can’t

stop kissing you long enough to strip.”

His confession sent waves of blissful tension through Kenna. She caught his bottom

lip with her teeth and gave it a gentle bite, tangling her fingers in his hair. “I know the

feeling, Dr. Hayes.”

His cock jerked against her spread folds at the words, his mouth reclaiming hers

with savage greed. Fresh moisture pooled in Kenna’s sex. Oh God, she couldn’t wait

much longer. Her dragon couldn’t. The very cells of her dual existence weren’t just on

fire, they were in a state of flux. Not because time was rapidly running away, but

because she was so…so… Was there even a word to describe what she was?

Aroused.

Lexxie Couper

Overwhelmed.
Ready.
Yes, she was all those things, and something else. Something she never, ever

expected.

Open.
She was open to everything Rick offered. Everything Rick wanted to give her.

Everything he could give…would give.

She was open to being herself. With this man, who made her burn with just a kiss,

who made her laugh with just a grin, who knew what she was and didn’t want her for

that. She was open to being the creature she’d denied for so long.

The thought shot through her like a bullet. She gasped, pulling back. No, not just

pulling away from Rick, reeling back.

He blinked, his hands refusing to release her. “Kenna?”
She stared at him, her sex still grinding against his erection, her blood molten in her

veins, her dragon roaring in her soul. “Make me yours,” she said, her voice steady.

“Make love to me, fill me, mate with me and make me yours.”

Rick’s lips curled into a slow smile, his gaze holding hers. “Gladly.”
And, with that single word, he pushed her onto her back and covered her body

with his.

His mouth ravished hers, hungry and dominating. Whereas the first kiss had been

tender, almost hesitant, this kiss was its opposite. Kenna reveled in its mastery. She’d

never let herself succumb to a kiss before. On the rare occasions she had allowed herself

a date, she’d ended the poor hopeful men’s kisses before a tongue could pass her lips.

Rick’s tongue wasn’t just past her lips, it was owning her mouth. Owning,

possessing.

Taking all the pleasure he’d awakened and feeding Kenna his own.
Deep inside, her dragon surged—so close to release, every breath Kenna pulled

evaporated before it filled her lungs. Reaching for Rick, seeking him, needing him.

She moaned, curling her arms around his shoulders and balling her fists in his hair.

He hissed in a breath against her mouth and thrust his cock harder to her pussy. She

hooked a leg around his thigh, grinding closer to his rigid length. The abrasive pressure

on her clit—heightened by the cotton of her knickers and thickness of her trousers—

sent shards of wicked sensations through her lower belly. She rolled her hips, aching to

experience them again.

With a low chuckle, Rick dragged his mouth from hers, nibbling a lazy journey up

to her ear. His breath fanned her flesh, his teeth catching the fleshy pad of her earlobe in

a bite that made Kenna’s pussy constrict. “There’s not a hope in hell I’m going to rush

this.”

But we’re running out of time.

How to Love Your Dragon

The warning was trapped in her throat. How was she expected to form words,

actual words, when she could barely think? Besides, unless he was a marathon

foreplayer, she was safe. They were safe from the unthinkable.

As if to prove his claim, he explored her throat, her shoulder with languid kisses,

tugging aside the collar of her shirt to grant his lips greater access to her flesh. She

whimpered, part desperate for release, part drunk on his touch. When he tugged her

shirt from her belted trousers and slid his hand over her rib cage, she didn’t just

whimper, she begged for more.

And he gave it to her. His hand closed over her breast, kneading its swollen weight

through the no-nonsense cotton of her bra. Her nipple beaded, pushing at his palm with

eager impatience.

“I like that,” he murmured against the side of her neck, his thumb dragging over

the taut peak of flesh, “how your nipple grows hard at my touch.”

Kenna closed her eyes, arching her back in a vain attempt to push her breast harder

against his hand. “Damn, I like it too.”

He chuckled at her choked groan, pinching her nipple between fingers both strong

and gentle.

Kenna sucked in a swift breath. “Again. Harder.”
He did as she asked, his lips feasting on the line of her jaw, her chin, her lips as he

did so.

She moaned, arching into his touch once more. “Harder. Please…harder.”
And again he complied with her wishes, his thumb and finger pinching her nipple.

Shards of pain shot through her, so tight and hot and delicious, she bucked beneath

him. Oh God, he knew how to work her body. How to play her senses.

“Do you want me to do that with my mouth, Kenna?”
The question was an abrasive caress on her throat.
She nodded, unable to find her voice.
“Say it.” He pinched her nipple again, emphasizing the pleasure working through

her body at his touch. “Like you did back in my clinic. Say, ‘I want you to suck and bite

my nipple, Rick’.”

“I want you to suck and bite my nipple, Rick.”
He chuckled, a low, dirty sound that made her pussy clench. Shifting his arm, he

slid her shirt up her torso. The material bunched under her chin, the cool air of his

living room falling over her newly exposed belly and breast. Before she could beg him

to hurry, he closed his lips over her taut, aching nipple and sucked it through the cotton

of her bra.

Oh God.
Kenna bucked again, her fists tightening in his hair. Rick’s mouth and tongue and

teeth drew moan after moan after moan from her throat. He sucked and flicked and

sucked some more. The pressure on her nipple grew, pushing her higher and higher to

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a precipice she longed to fall over. Deep inside, her dragon roared, a raw sound of

demanding need.

Rick’s other hand stole to her waistline, his fingers tugging at the buckle of her belt.

She’d forgone wearing her uniform belt, opting instead for a simple, black leather one.

His clever fingers had it unbuckled before she realized it, perhaps because her head was

spinning from the pleasure of his mouth. How could someone suck so long and

ravenously on a nipple? How could she survive much longer?

“I’m going to do things with this belt later,” Rick murmured against her breast, his

teeth and lips nipping at her flesh with each word. “Naughty things. But for now, I just

want to feel your tight heat around my fingers.”

Kenna closed her eyes and rolled her head. She shuddered, waves of images

bombarding her. Rick binding her wrists together behind her back with her belt. Rick

bending her over a sofa and branding her ass with her belt. Rick biding them together

by the wrists with her belt…

Damn, when had she become so licentious?
When you met him. When you pulled him over. And it’s not just a fire-mating thing. It’s

everything. It’s human attraction. It’s human chemistry. It’s magical fate and pure, down-and-

dirty human lust.

How had she been so lucky? Why had she been given what her sister hadn’t? The

perfect mate?

“Rick,” she gasped. “I’m so close. So close. Please…”
He lifted his head and gaze at her, his eyes ablaze with desire. “Kenna,” he

whispered. “Tell me what I’m feeling is real. Tell me it isn’t just some Druid-dragon,

hocus-pocus thing.”

She raised her hips to grind her pussy against his straining erection. “It’s real,

Rick.”

Something close to relief flooded his face…a second before he plunged his hand

between their bodies, between her thighs, and penetrated her folds with his fingers.

“Oh fuck!”
She rammed her hips upward, the sudden invasion setting her body ablaze.
“Yes, oh yes!”
“You’re so tight, Kenna. So tight and so wet.” He wriggled his fingers deeper, as if

to show her exactly where he planned to put his cock. “I am going to fuck you so

completely.”

“Damn it, Rick,” she gasped. “Keep talking like that and I’ll come now.”
He chuckled again, and this time it wasn’t just dirty, it was filthy in its joy. “You

like it?”

“I like it.”

How to Love Your Dragon

“So if I tell you I’m going to fuck you with three fingers, not just one…” He slid

another finger inside her sex and Kenna bit back a choked cry.

“Or if I say I’m going to pump your cunt full of my come…”
He shoved his fingers deeper, scissoring them with slow, deliberate action.
Kenna moaned, unable to do anything else.
“If I tell you I’m going to flip you onto your belly and fuck your arse with my

tongue…”

“Rick. Rick!” His name burst from her in panting breaths. The pit of her belly

knotted. How was he doing this to her? Making her burn so much? Was this what it had

been like for Ciara? This overwhelming onslaught of senses and pleasure and carnal

greed?

“I’m going to enter you soon, Kenna.” Rick’s voice vibrated against her breast. He

suckled for a long moment, teasing her nipple with his teeth before raising his head to

gaze at her again. “I’m trying like fuck to hold on, to control myself, but I can’t. I want

you so fucking much I’m on fire.”

Fire. Oh God, fire.
The word sank into Kenna’s fogged brain. She sucked in a breath, sudden

realization hitting her—realization of what would happen when she experienced a truly

soul-shattering orgasm.

“Rick,” she stammered, trying to scramble from beneath him. She had to tell him,

warn him. “Rick, you need to listen…”

But he wouldn’t let her go. Instead, he closed his mouth over her sodden bra and

sucked on her nipple some more, delving his fingers deep into her sex before slipping

them out and teasing her clit with his cream-slicked thumb.

“R-Rick.” Kenna tried to lift his head. She had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Rick, when…when I come…like, really come…”

He dragged his hand up from between her legs and tore aside her bra.
Oh God.
His mouth took her exposed nipple with greedy force. She whimpered, the feel of

his tongue on her flesh, the sensation of his mouth sucking her swollen tip almost too

much. She knew that the second he buried his cock in her body, she was going to come.

There was no doubt. If she didn’t tell him now…

“Rick, please,” she moaned. “You need to listen…”
“I’m not stopping, hon.” His voice was a growl on her breast. His hand had

returned to her sex, his thumb rolling over and over her clit in slow, tormenting circles.

“I’m making you mine, just as you asked.”

“I…I don’t want you to stop.” God, how was she even finding the strength to form

words? “I need you to know…know what’s going to happen…when I come.”

Lexxie Couper

He chuckled around her nipple. “I think I know that already, Kenna. You’re going

to scream my name—loud. So loud the neighbors will hear. You’re going to scream my

name and tell me how fucking good it is, how good I am. And you’re going to buck

beneath me as your cunt squeezes my dick and your come oozes over my balls.”

Swirls of blistering heat engulfed Kenna. Her dragon surged, closer than ever to

release. She gasped, fighting to free herself of Rick’s masterful touch even as his equally

masterful words drove her climax that much closer.

“N-no.” She shook her head, grinding her pussy to his pumping fingers. A distant

part of her mind recognized the fact they were still dressed. What would happen to her

when nothing stopped their bodies from becoming one?

Fire, Kenna. You’ll be engulfed in fire. Tell him.
“Rick, I… You need to hear this.” She snared his hair in two tight fists and tore his

head up, making him look at her.

His lips glistened with the moisture of his kisses, his nostrils flaring with each

shallow breath he pulled. It was a face of sheer desire and pleasure and Kenna wanted

nothing more than to let him succumb to it. But she needed to warn him.

“When…” She paused, her mouth dry. Damn, how did she explain this? “When I

experience a truly soul-shattering orgasm, the kind between Fire Mates that marks them

as joined, I will… I’ll be engulfed in flames.”

Rick’s eyes widened.
She swallowed, ignoring the burning need to forget words, to forget explanations.

To just fuck him and be fucked by him. “I’ll be engulfed in flames and my Fire Mate

will be too. You, Rick. You will be engulfed in fire as I come.”

She stared at him, waiting for his reaction.
What would she do if his expression turned to one of fear? Disgust?
He studied her, one hand still on her breast, cupping its heavy weight, the other on

her hip. “Bloody good thing I’ve got SPF 30-plus then, isn’t it?”

The thought should have terrified him. Instead, Rick felt his balls throb with fresh

need and his cock spasm with impatient demand. Kenna’s rather unusual confession, it

seemed, turned him on. Big-time.

“You don’t understand,” she began, her eyebrows pulling into a frown. He

wondered if she was aware her legs were still wrapped around his hips?

He grinned, dragging his thumb over her puckered nipple, enjoying the fact her

flesh was wet with his saliva. “I do. You come, we ignite.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll be burnt? You’ll be surrounded by fire. It’ll be covering

you.”

He shifted between her spread thighs, wanting her to feel his still-engorged

erection. Wanting her to know he wasn’t repulsed by the…let’s face it, rather unusual

How to Love Your Dragon

situation she’d presented him with. “Kenna, am I going to die? Am I going to suffer? Be

in pain?”

Her frown deepened. “I…n-no. From what I understand…” She shook her head.

“No. Ciara told me it was the most amazing experience of her life. But you’re human.

Druid human, but human all the same. I don’t know if things are different.”

Rick stroked his fingers over her breast, letting her feel his gentle caress. There was

fear in her eyes. It fought with the raw desire smoldering in their depths. He wanted to

allay that fear. He wanted her to feel safe.

And loved.
Loved? Christ, have I…am I…
He didn’t let himself finished the thought. Not until he knew Kenna wasn’t afraid

of what was to come. What she felt in her heart was all that mattered now. Because

what was in her heart affected his.

That thought hit Rick like a blow and his breath caught in his throat.
Well, there it is, Yorick. You’re in love with her. Plain and simple.
The realization should have terrorized him. It didn’t. Not at all. Lifting his hand

from her breast, he cupped her jaw in his palm. “I trust you, Kenna. And I’ve made you

come before, yes? With my mouth and fingers? You didn’t ignite then. I mean, you

didn’t fake it back in my clinic?”

The question was asked in jest, but, surprisingly, Rick found his gut clenching.

Christ, what if she had? He’d wanted to give her so much pleasure, but what if all he’d

given her was grazed thighs from his five o’clock shad—

“I didn’t fake it, Dr. Hayes. And no, I didn’t ignite.”
Kenna’s statement sent fresh pleasure to Rick’s groin. He rolled his hips, just

enough to feel her soft heat against his cock. He wanted to be inside her so much it was

a wonder he could form rational thought. But he could, and the only logical conclusion

he could draw from that feat was, he was meant to be with this woman, on every level.

He didn’t argue with himself. He liked the idea a whole damn lot. After years of being a

player who’d never planned to settle down, here he was, in love with a dragon shifter

he’d known mere hours.

Truth be told, the idea was pretty fucking amazing.
He traced the soft fullness of her bottom lip with his thumb, reveling in the way she

flicked out her tongue to touch it. “So let me make you come again,” he said. “I’ll make

you come with my mouth and fingers and tongue until you can’t take any more, until

you know you’re about to burst into flames, and then I’ll bury myself in your sweet

cunt and we can burn together.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed for a heartbeat, her lips parting at his words. “Oh

Rick…” She threaded her fingers through his hair and pressed her sex harder to his

straining dick. “Please…never hurt me.”

Lexxie Couper

Her plea, voiced on a barely audible breath, sent shards of something potent,

something purely primitive into Rick’s soul.

His heart races. Lifting the sprig of sage, he shakes it over the dragon’s bowed head and with

a—

The unnerving memory whispered through his mind, there and gone just as

quickly. He drew in a steadying breath, shutting out the coldness creeping into his gut,

tracing Kenna’s bottom lip with his thumb again. “I won’t, hon. And I will kill anyone

who tries.”

The promise left him on a growl—raw and more truthful than anything he’d ever

uttered.

Kenna opened her eyes. “Make me come, Rick. Over and over again.”

How to Love Your Dragon

Chapter Seven

He led her to the living room and undressed her with eager haste, tossing her

clothes aside as he explored each newly revealed expanse of flesh with his lips and

tongue. Hannibal followed, watching them for a curious moment before climbing onto

the sofa and dozing off, uncaring of their gymnastics. It was, to Rick, another sign of the

perfection of his mating with Kenna. His dog had a sixth sense about people—as most

animals did—and was responsible for more than one woman hightailing it from Rick’s

home before any clothes could be discarded.

Turning his mind from his mutt, Rick smoothed his palms over Kenna’s exquisitely

naked body, loving the way she moaned her appreciation. Her uniform was scattered

around his living room. In fact, he was pretty certain her trousers hung from the ceiling

fan above his head. He knew for a fact one of her boots had landed atop the bookshelf.

It didn’t matter. Kenna had laughed and giggled and whimpered as he’d stripped

her and that was worth a clothes hunt later.

Now, however, the only sounds she made were the moans he loved so much.

Moans he could listen to for the rest of forever. He stroked his fingers over the hitching

plane of her belly, down the shallow line that ran between her stomach muscles to the

trimmed gold of her pubic hair. The neat triangle drew his gaze and he bowed his spine

until he could place a kiss on the downy curls. They tickled his lips and chin, the

sensation wholly delicious.

“Rick…” Kenna sighed, her hands moving to his head.
He dipped a little lower, flicking his tongue at the hood of her clit. It was a teasing

caress. As much as he wanted to taste her now, he wanted to discover every inch of her

first. Her most sensitive places, her ticklish ones. The ones that would make her

whimper and beg from just a touch of his fingers or tongue…

Flattening his palms high on her inner thighs, he gently pushed her legs wider

apart. The delicate scent of her pleasure filled his breath and he stroked the tip of his

tongue over her folds again. His balls throbbed at the taste, the musky saltiness of her

juices already wetting her sex. His cock pushed at his shorts. He would strip them off

soon, but not yet. Not until he’d made her come at least twice.

“Rick.”
Kenna’s husky plea caressed his ears and he smiled against her mound. With

another gentle push on her thighs, he dipped his head lower and ran his tongue the

entire length of her pussy.

She shuddered, her blunt nails scraping at his scalp. Ribbons of pleasure twisted

through him at the less-than-gentle touch, his balls growing harder. Turning his head

Lexxie Couper

slightly, he kissed the secret strip of flesh between her groin and her thigh. She let out a

hitching “yes”, her knees bending as she widened herself to his mouth.

But still Rick didn’t linger. Shifting on his knees between her spread thighs, he

charted a path with his lips down her right leg until he came to her knee. Slowly, he

lifted her leg and straightened it, pressing his mouth to her calf, the firmly toned muscle

beneath her skin coiling at his kiss.

“Rick…” His name was barely more than a breath this time.
Lips parted, he touched the tip of his tongue to the velvety skin behind her knee.
“Oh God.” She bucked. A little. “What…how can…”
He drew a small circle on her flesh with his tongue and then nipped it with an

equally small bite.

Kenna bucked again. The air grew heavy with the perfume of her pleasure. Rick’s

mouth filled with saliva at the intoxicating scent, his cock no longer just straining for

release, but pulsing with eager blood.

He slid his mouth upward from her knee, over the curve of her calf to her ankle. It

was finely boned and perfect and he worshipped it with his mouth, pressing his body

against her extended leg as he did so.

“I can feel your cock, Rick,” she groaned, shifting on the floor. “It’s so hard. So, so

hard. I want it.”

A soft chink told Rick that Hannibal had lifted his head, the metal identity and

registration tags on the dog’s collar clinking together. Rick shot him a quick look,

praying to God Hannibal didn’t pick now to introduce himself to Kenna.

Stay, mate.
The silent command burbled away in Rick’s mind, close to desperate.
Hannibal looked at him, looked at Kenna, and rose onto his paws.
Stay, mate. Stay!
His dog cocked his head, wagged his tail and, as if he knew he was in the wrong

place at the wrong time, leapt off the sofa and walked from the room.

“Thank fuck.”
The words burst from Rick on a ragged sigh. He returned his gaze to Kenna,

finding her watching him. Their gazes connected, a slow smile curling her lips. “Will

you fuck me now, Dr. Hayes?” she asked, her voice part throaty seduction, part

humored chuckle. Her hands found her breasts and she cupped each one, the sight

making Rick’s head spin. “Now that your dog has left us?”

His cock pulsed in his shorts, quite accepting of her request, but he shook his head.

“In time,” he answered. Lowering her leg, he lifted the other. This time his fingers

moved to her foot. He kneaded the sole, the ball, Kenna’s throaty moans proof enough

she enjoyed what he was doing. When he lowered his head and took one toe into his

mouth, sucking with a pressure he knew came close to being ungentle, she gasped, her

hands squeezing her breasts harder.

How to Love Your Dragon

The sight of her nipples poking out from between her fingers flooded Rick’s groin

with new urgency. And still he took his time. Lowering her leg to the floor, he bent and

flicked his tongue over her folds, delved a little deeper into her wet heat on the next

stoke.

She shuddered again, a quaking tremble that Rick felt with his tongue. Lifting his

head slightly, he blew a thin stream of cool air onto her pussy, parting her deep-pink

folds as he did so. Her clit grew fat before his eyes, plumping with her pleasure. He

licked at it, tasting her cream with the slow caress.

“Oh…oh yes.”
Kenna’s pants fed his building need. He rolled his tongue over the nub of her clit

with increasing speed, slipping two fingers into her sodden slit and pumping with

deepening thrusts. She gasped, arching her back and grinding her sex to his face. The

aggressive, wordless demand sent liquid heat to Rick’s groin. He groaned against her

pussy, closed his lips around her clit and sucked.

“Oh, oh yes, that’s…that’s it.”
Kenna clawed at his head. Her hips bucked upward. Another tremble claimed her

muscles and a keening sound filled the room.

Withdrawing his fingers, he licked her cunt with harder, deeper strokes. She tasted

divine and he wanted more. So much more. Cock throbbing, balls swollen, his pulse

pounding in his ears, he slid his hands beneath her backside and lifted it from the floor.

She cried out, and cried again when he swiped his tongue over the puckered hole of her

anus.

“Oh God, Rick!”
She bucked, his name a strangled scream.
He rolled his tongue over her clenched hole again, the violent force of her response

too wanton to deny. She didn’t need to tell him the contact felt amazing. He could feel it

in the way her whole body quivered.

And still he wanted more. He wanted her to come. On his face. In his mouth.
Now.
Returning his lips to her pussy, he plunged his tongue into her folds, wriggling

deep inside her before laving her clit again.

Her thighs trembled. Her whimpers grew louder.
“Oooh…Rick, I’m going to…”
Lifting his head, he gazed down the length of her body. “Scream my name, Kenna. I

want to hear my name tear from your throat as you come.”

Before she could respond, he returned his mouth to her sex, stabbing his tongue

into her drenched heat, sucking on her clit, biting at the small tip of flesh and then

delving into her cunt again.

She came. And just as he’d demanded, she screamed his name.

Lexxie Couper

Her cream flowed from her and Rick drank her in, slipping his fingers into her

constricting sheath. He wanted to feel her climax as well as taste it. If not with his dick

yet, then with his fingers.

She pulsed around their length, tight and gripping and wet—so wet. He continued

to suckle her clit, her pleading moans that she couldn’t take any more, that she would

die if he didn’t stop, only fueling his need to make her come again. Withdrawing his

fingers from her contracting sex, he smeared her cream over the puckered hole of her

anus.

“Rick, I…I can’t.”
He lifted his head enough to say, “Yes you can, babe,” before slowly pushing his

coated finger into her anus.

“Oh my God!”
Her cry rent the air. She bucked, her head tossing from side to side, fresh moisture

flowing from her as a third orgasm tore through her. Her arsehole choked his finger,

tighter than he believed possible. So tight, so greedy. So hot.

She came and he licked it from her clit, her folds, her cunt, until he felt the

trembling of her body begin to fade, and then, only then, did he remove his finger from

her anus and his mouth from her sex.

He gently lowered her to the floor, rose to his feet and walked from the room. It

took him exactly nineteen heartbeats to wash his hands, run a washcloth under the

warm water and wring it out. Another ten to strip his clothes from his body and return

to the living room. He knew the numbers precisely because counting them was the only

way to control himself. To stop himself from burying his dick into Kenna’s drenched

sex immediately.

He crossed the room, stopping between her splayed legs. She lay on the floor, her

chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths, her lips parted in a sated smile, her eyes

closed. When he lowered into a crouch and swiped the warm, damp washcloth over her

glistening pussy lips, her smile grew wider, her eyes opening just a crack.

Throwing the cloth aside, Rick rose to his feet, raised his right hand and tugged her

trousers from the ceiling fan, sliding her belt from the loops without taking his stare

from hers.

He didn’t say a word, and neither did she. Trust was absolute between them. For a

brief moment, no more than it took for his heart to beat, a flash of his previous life’s

memory sliced into his pleasure—into flesh primed with trust and love—and then it was

gone, replaced with scalding rapture as Kenna lifted her arms and presented her wrists

to him.

Ah, fuck me, Yorick.
He bound her wrists, tight enough to keep them together, loose enough that she

could slip out of the belt if she wanted to. He wasn’t into BDSM. He’d tried it a few

times—more than one sexual partner wanting to be dominated—but this wasn’t about

domination and control.

How to Love Your Dragon

This, what he did with Kenna, was about trust. That she trusted him enough to

offer herself. It came close to undoing him. His cock had never been so hard, so

engorged. If he were to touch it now, he feared it would rupture. So he didn’t. Instead,

he gently hooked the V of Kenna’s bound wrists and lifted her to her feet.

She stood before him, just watching, her breasts framed by her arms and the

tumbled mess of her hair. When it had it come undone from its ponytail, Rick couldn’t

remember. The fact that it had only made his body burn hotter. Gone was the

authoritarian cop he’d first met hours ago, albeit a sexy authoritarian cop.

Now in his living room stood a woman created for him—a woman of sensual

power and sublime femininity. A woman offering herself to him even as she enslaved

him with her beauty, her vulnerability and her trust.

Primed with trust and love and…
He scooped her breasts into his hands and took one nipple with his mouth.
Kenna hissed, her breasts growing fuller in his palms. Her nipple distended into a

tight point and he sucked on it with greedy hunger. She moaned, sounds that may have

been his name, may have been pleas for more, may have been no words at all.

Rick wanted to hear them again.
Lifting his head a fraction, he worked his mouth to her other breast, nipping its

puckered bud with his lips before suckling it deeply. Kenna groaned. “Yes…oh God,

Rick.”

He feasted on her flesh, one nipple then the other, sucking and biting until her

groans became breathless pleas. Lifting his head, he crushed her mouth with his. His

tongue lashed at hers, the action echoed by his fingers as he plunged two of them into

her sex. Her sheath was still slick with cream from her earlier climaxes and he

penetrated her to his knuckles. She bucked her hips forward, her moans captured by his

kiss.

The need to be inside her was beginning to overwhelm him. Not just his fingers, not

just his tongue, but his cock. To stretch her to the limit as he slammed into her pussy. It

wasn’t just a burning desire, but a consuming obsession, surging through him like an

inferno. Like…

The mating fire. The mating fire is about to claim you, Yorick. Claim you, incinerate you,

and you’ve never wanted anything more.

He tore his lips from Kenna’s and gazed down at her face. No, that was wrong. He

did want something more. He wanted her. He wanted her love, her heart. Her soul. All

of her. Forever.

She sucked in a ragged breath, her eyes shimmering an iridescent green. “Rick,” she

whispered. “I need you inside me…I can’t control it any longer. If you don’t, I’ll—”

Without a word, he stepped back, lifted her bound wrists, ducked beneath them

and pressed his body to hers.

Lexxie Couper

He was warm and smooth and hard and perfect. Rick’s skin slid over hers as he

straightened, his breath a tickling caress as their gazes held, his chest smoothing up her

breasts, his cock rubbing her thigh. And then they were aligned, his naked flesh on hers.

The smattering of soft hair on his chest tickled her nipples and she pulled in a shaky

breath. Everything was new with Rick. Everything was unlike anything she’d

experienced before. Even something as simple as chest hair was enough to make her

pussy weep with pleasure and her pulse sing in her ears.

She pushed herself onto her tiptoes, wanting to feel the thick pole of his cock on her

sex, and even that action was new and wicked and delicious. The very sensation of her

thighs sliding over his muscled ones sent sparks of tension through her. At the insistent

pressure of his erection, her dragon roared, more ready for connection than Kenna

could dare believe.

Would she be engulfed in flames the moment he entered her? Was it possible she

could survive more than one thrust before being lost to the orgasm already on the cusp

of detonating?

“Rick.” She swallowed, staring into his eyes. Her belly knotted, her breasts grew

ever more sensitive. Her pulse pounded and she shifted her arms on his shoulders, the

belt around her wrists an erotic restriction. “I’m nervous.”

His gaze roamed her face. He smoothed his hands over her back, down to her ass in

an exploration of her body she could surrender to forever. “Don’t be.”

Her pussy—so ripe with building pressure—constricted at his low murmur. The

tops of her inner thighs grew damp. “How is it possible to be so aroused, so ready to

come simply by standing chest to chest with you?”

He grinned, the expression part roguish charm—the Rick she’d first met—part

gentle amazement—the Rick she’d discovered he truly was.

“Because we’re made for each other, Officer Mackay.”
His cheeky smugness sent tight pulses of delight through her body. “Well, there is

that.”

He kissed her before she could laugh, his tongue confident and demanding, and she

kissed him back, using her bound wrists to hold his head to hers. Her breasts ached

with want, her sex throbbed with need, her skin danced with rising heat.

And just when Kenna knew she couldn’t last a second longer without him inside

her, he snared the backs of her thighs with strong hands, hauled her off her feet and

impaled her on his cock.

In one fierce, fluid thrust.
Stretching her, filling her.
Claiming her.
Her dragon roared. Kenna heard the deafening sound of sheer pleasure in her soul.

Felt it in every cell in her body. It scorched through her like a wave of living force,

growing stronger, hotter with every powerful stroke as Rick pumped. With every thrust

How to Love Your Dragon

deep into her sex, with every feverish squeeze of his hands on her ass, with every

panted word of lust, desire and need, her dragon roared for release and Kenna’s body

burned hotter. Hotter.

Hotter.
Until the world began to shimmer.
She stared at Rick through the heat and he looked at her with eyes that hid nothing.

Eyes that told her how special she was, how much he desired her. How much he trusted

her, wanted her. Needed her.

And she needed him. With Rick, she didn’t have to be alone or scared of who she

was anymore. She could laugh, she could relax, she could just be herself. And for that,

she loved him.

Love him. Oh God, I love him.
“Rick,” she gasped, her belly twisting, her sex throbbing. “Rick, I…I…oh God, I

love—”

Before she could utter another word, Kenna’s orgasm detonated and everything

turned blue with fire.

Lexxie Couper

Chapter Eight

He was on fire. But he wasn’t.
Flames danced over his flesh. He was surrounded by flames so hot they were a

blinding blue, but he didn’t burn. His skin didn’t blister or melt, his hair wasn’t aflame.

His desire, however? Damn, it was molten hot. Hot for Kenna, hot for the utter pleasure

she gave him, hot for the undeniable sense of completion that came from being inside

her body.

Her pussy gripped his cock in powerful pulses, her orgasm—the source of the

magical fire licking his body—coming very close to blowing his mind. She was so tight.

So tight and so wet and so, so responsive. With every stroke, she cried out, bowing her

spine, her swollen breasts crushing harder to his chest. Every time he squeezed her arse,

lifting her up and down his shaft as he fucked her with increasing force, she moaned

and rolled her hips and rode him even harder. His name fell from her lips over and over

again in gasping breaths. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders with inescapable

strength and her sex squeezed his dick with such pressure he knew he couldn’t stop his

own orgasm no matter how hard he tried.

This wasn’t about performance and satisfaction and ego. This was about love, about

joining with Kenna, the woman who claimed his heart, and he willingly let himself go

with the sheer, elemental rapture of their passion.

Every second drove him faster and faster toward release. His every sense was so

hyper aware of his Fire Mate—of the exquisite heat of her sex, the sweet taste of her

flesh, the husky music of her voice, the perfume of her pleasure, the beauty in her face

as she lost herself to her climax—he felt undone. Undone and remade and more

connected with…with everything than ever before. But most of all, more connected with

her.

Fuck a duck, he truly did love her.
The realization pushed him over the edge. His climax smashed through him,

exploding in his balls, up into his pumping cock. It shot up his spine, burst through his

chest. It turned his strokes to graceless thrusts, his moans to shouts. He squeezed his

eyes shut, his muscles thrumming, his nerve endings firing…

Firing…
Fire. He was on fire. Christ, how could he be on fire and feel so good? So good. Dian

Cécht, he felt so good. Lugh Lamhfada, he hadn’t expected it to feel so maith. Ní raibh an

tsamhail chéanna le dúirt leis go mbeadh sé bhraitheann chomh maith, mar sin—

Rick’s heart slammed into his throat. As his orgasm exploded from his dick, as

Kenna’s cunt milked him of his seed, the mellifluous words of a language beyond his

How to Love Your Dragon

understanding but his language all the same cried through his head. Calling to deities

he didn’t know, offering thanks to gods he’d never heard of in a language as alien as it

was familiar.

He continued to climax, hot ropes of come spurting from him, and with every

scalding ejaculation, the memories of his past life, the memories of the Druid he’d once

been, flooded his consciousness. Until the stench of blood and sage and burning flesh

flowed through his nose. Until the cries of the woman in his arms, on his dick, became

the screeching wails of a dragon. Until the heart beating against his became the heart in

his hand and…

His hands glisten, his heart races. Lifting the sprig of sage, he shakes it over the dragon’s

bowed head and with a single stroke, performs the final rite of the soul’s passage, the final thrust

of the knife into flesh primed with trust and love and fire…

The memory took Rick. Assaulted him. Raped him.
He sees the dragon before him, her beautiful, serpentine body covered in flames so hot they

burn blue. They lick over her, a living shroud of fire. The mating fire. She lies on the lush

ground, her eyes—iridescent green—watching him with eternal trust and adoration. A she-

dragon waiting for her Fire Mate to claim her, to love her.

He steps closer, his hands dripping blood, the wounds he’d sliced into her body doing the

same. Slashes of his knife she bore without fight because he is hers and she is his and he’s

promised her all will be well, all will be well…

“With your heart,” he murmurs, the words a divine song in the damp Samhain night, “I

give life. With your soul, I give strength. With your life, I give…eternity.”

He strokes his dragon with the bushel of sage, paints her with its pungent magic—and

plunges the knife into her chest.

Rick stumbled backward, almost dropping Kenna as he did so, his hands slipping

from her body when her feet hit the floor. He tripped, his own feet tangling beneath

him, and he’d barely recovered before the memory slammed into him again.

Her heart gushes blood and he cuts it from her chest. She wails and screeches and flails

under his blade but he closes his ears to her grief. He has her heart. He is but an offering away

from finishing the ritual. With the dragon’s sacrifice at the height of her mating cycle, he will

ensure with every life returned after death, his soul will be stronger. Granting it eternal

strength, fortitude and everlasting rebirth, until he, Oistin Raghnall, is beyond death, beyond

time and connected for eternity with—

“Rick?”
He staggered again, his chest heaving. A distant part of his violated mind told him

Kenna’s cream coated his dick, a dick still hard and still enduring the spasms of his

orgasm.

He swiped at his mouth, scrubbed his hands through his hair. Christ, what had he

done?

Sacrifice. Eternal life. The ritual. The death. The rebirth.

Lexxie Couper

He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at Kenna. The Druid he once was looked

back at him, face coated in blood, eyes direct and clear. Without pause, he raised blood-

drenched hands and pressed the dragon’s heart to his lip, drenching his beard in—

“Rick! What’s going on?”
Rick snapped open his eyes, staring hard at Kenna. She stood but a few feet away,

her sublime, naked perfection slicked with perspiration, her face etched in stunned

confusion. He couldn’t see her belt anymore.

Of course not, you idiot. The fire incinerated it.
He barked out a laugh at the surreal ridiculousness of the thought.
He’d just discovered he’d slaughtered his dragon Fire Mate eons ago to give

himself a stronger soul each time he reincarnated, and he was pondering the

whereabouts of a belt?

Christ, Yorick. Who are you? How could you—
“Tell me what’s going on, Rick!”
Kenna’s voice, raw with unchecked fear, sliced into his feverish sanity.
Sanity? Are you sure?
He pressed his hands to his face, rubbed his eyes with his fingers.
Sacrifice. Eternal life. The ritual. The death. The rebirth.
Oistin Raghnall, defying the Kindred and Deities, his heart and his soul forever beyond the

power of life, his spiritual soul connected to the Goddess Mother and the powers and all the

creatures, and his heart forever with—

“Stop it!” The scream tore from his throat and he doubled over, his gut a churning

mass of sickened lust. Lust for rebirth, for power, for immortality. “For fuck’s sake, get

out of my head. Get out get out get the fuck out!”

“What are you saying?”
Kenna’s cry lashed at him. He jerked his head up and stared at her, pain and

disgust and hate pouring through him. “Kenna…”

The dragon’s dying cries echoes on the silent night, and with them, he feels the rush of

unfathomable—

“Kenna, I think…” He stopped. Swallowed the bile bubbling up his throat. “I think

you’d better go.”

Kenna’s eyes grew wide. Her mouth fell open. “Go? You can’t be—”
“Kenna,” he ground out, wave after wave of nauseous contempt for himself nearly

overwhelming. “You don’t…want to be near me. You don’t…”

Her arms stole around her chest, and the part of Rick’s brain not being attacked by

Oistin’s memories knew she was shielding herself, not fending off the cold of the room.

The room wasn’t cold. It was a bloody hot summer night.

And she burns for you…
Make me burn…

How to Love Your Dragon

I love…
She stared at him. “Tell me!”
Bile stung the back of his throat, acid on raw flesh. “I think I…”
The words choked in his throat. How did he tell her? The woman, the dragon,

whose twin sister had been betrayed by her Fire Mate and slaughtered by hunters, that

he too had slaughtered one of her kind? All to gain a little extra spiritual kick? And to

what end now? So he could calm a wounded animal? Had he once butchered a dragon

who trusted him just so he could now charge a trusting pet owner the premium price

for curing a sick bloody dog?

Fuck, how did he tell her?
You have to, Yorick. You love her. How can you lie to her? Or keep it from her?
“Please…tell me what’s happening, Rick?”
It was her “please” that did it. A plaintive plea spoken from a heart already scarred

too deeply.

He drew a shallow breath, knowing the pain he was about to cause.
“Kenna, when I was a Druid, I… I slaughtered a dragon—my Fire Mate—in a

sacrificial ritual that I think gave my soul greater strength.”

Confusion turned Kenna’s face to a white mask. “What?”
Rick sucked in another breath. “I just relived a moment of my Druid life in which I

sacrificed my Fire Mate while she was in dragon form and—”

“Wait. What did you just say?” The confusion twisted to something else. Stunned

disbelief. Her eyes shimmered, no longer just green but iridescent. Luminous.

Reptilian.
Christ, Rick. She’s…is she… Christ, she’s changing!
“What did you do?” Her voice was a snarl. Hardly human at all.
Rick stared at her, his heart beating so hard his whole chest ached. “I killed my Fire

Mate, Kenna. My name was Oistin Raghnall, I was a Druid, and I seduced her into

allowing me to cut out her heart and—”

He didn’t finish. He couldn’t.
Not when he was being flung backward across the room. A room currently

exploding outward as a massive dragon the color of virgin snow suddenly appeared

within its walls where Kenna had stood.

God, she is beautiful!
The thought whispered through Rick’s head a second before he struck the

splintering wall that once separated the living room from the hallway beyond. His

breath burst from him in a fierce punch, shattered wood and ceiling supports

showering down on him as he dropped to the floor.

Kenna’s wings swooshed open, knocking into anything not already destroyed by

her abrupt transformation. Debris peppered Rick like bullets, the living room suddenly

Lexxie Couper

the most dangerous room in the house, but he ignored it all, scrambling to his feet, his

stare locked on his Fire Mate in her dragon form.

“Kenna!” he cried, tripping over something, maybe his ceiling. “Don’t—”
The dragon’s elegant, horned head swung in his direction. Green eyes glowed with

hate and pain and then, with a screech so loud Rick could do nothing but smack his

hands to his ears, she took off. Effortlessly blasted through the debris that had seconds

before been the exterior wall of his home and launched into the night.

Nothing but a white ghost of improbable size and speed in the blackness.
Leaving Rick kneeling amongst the rumble, watching her fly away. “Christ

Almighty.”

The protesting groan of drywall falling to the floor somewhere behind him

drowned out his whispered expletive. Nearby, a dog barked frantically, then another. In

the distance, a siren wailed.

Funny how clearly you can hear everything when you don’t have any freaking walls to your

living room, eh Yorick?

Beyond the rubble, he saw dark shapes moving about on the street. His neighbors,

coming to see what was going on. Some ran, some walked, some called out to him,

asking if he was okay, asking what happened. More than one expressed shocked

disbelief in language not fit for such a family-heavy street. It was all muffled, surreal

noise to Rick.

The dragon’s dying cries echoes on the silent night, and with them, he feels the rush of

unfathomable power and timeless promise. He touches his parted lips to her severed heart,

reveling in the wet kiss of her blood on his flesh, and sends a silent prayer to Dian Cécht, Lugh

Lamhfada and the Kindred for the gift of immortality the ritual has—

Something wet touched Rick’s hand. He flinched, a yelp squeaking from his

constricting throat as he snatched his hand away from—

“Hannibal.” He blinked at his dog standing at his side, long tail wagging in hesitant

swipes, limpid brown eyes watching him warily. Collapsing to the debris-strewn floor,

Rick let out a ragged laugh and wrapped his arms around his dog’s body. “Holy Christ,

mate.” He pressed his forehead to Hannibal’s neck, ignoring the shouts and calls of his

neighbors. “I always knew I was a piece of work, I just never realized—”

A bright light flashed in his eyes, which was quite stupid given his trashed living

room wasn’t in complete darkness. Both table lamps were working, after all—if on their

sides somewhere on the floor.

“You okay, Rick?”
Rick squinted up at the large shadow drilling the torch beam into his face. He

waved his hand in front of the light in a weary attempt to shield his eyes. The voice was

familiar, as was the gargantuan size of the speaking shadow. “Yeah, Bruce,” he

answered his neighbor. “Guess I really need to cut back on the beans, ’eh?”

His neighbor shook his head. “Jesus, Hayes, do you ever take anything seriously?”

How to Love Your Dragon

Rick raised his eyebrows. “It was a serious fart.”
Bruce snorted, though whether from disgust at Rick’s flippancy or the situation,

Rick didn’t know, nor give a toss. It was low on his care-factor list. The memories of his

Druid self were still trying to undo him as well, and he didn’t give a flying fuck about

that either.

He looked over his neighbor’s shoulder through the gaping hole that used to be the

side of his house, searching the night sky for Kenna.

Not a sign.
The screaming sirens grew to a deafening pitch out on the street, only to shut off

mid-wail. There was a slamming car door and then another torch beam joined Bruce’s

on Rick’s face, this one about ten times stronger.

“Mind telling me what went on here, sir?” a deep, male and thoroughly stern voice

asked.

At Rick’s side, Hannibal began to growl, the fur under Rick’s hand bristling. Rick

turned his squinted eyes toward the newcomer and his already churning gut churned

some more. Awesome, just what he needed.

He gave the touch-bearer a lopsided grin, caressing his dog’s neck in an attempt to

keep Hannibal calm. “G’day, Officer. Welcome to my humble a—”

And then Oistin Raghnall’s memory of the rest of the ritual pummeled Rick’s

already overwhelmed mind, a tsunami of sounds and smells and inescapable images.

And Rick was lost to them.

* * * * *

Kenna had no choice but to steal some clothes. She crouched behind a dense,

unmaintained hedge, studying the back windows and doors of the only house in

streaking distance of the Sydney Harbour National Park to still have clothes hanging

outside on a line.

The deep gash high on her right shoulder throbbed, the wound still weeping blood.

She touched her fingertips to it, biting back a hiss. It had been a while since she’d

suffered any kind of serious injury, even longer since the injury had occurred in her

dragon form. She’d forgotten how wounds responded during the shift from dragon to

human—like metal hooks digging into the torn flesh and ripping it wider. Of course,

she wouldn’t be injured now if she’d been able to control the shift back at Rick’s house,

but no, she had to go and—

Stop thinking about it, Kenna. Get the clothes and get home. That’s your goal. After you’re

home, after you’re safe and your wound tended to, then you can think about the lying, deceiving,

murderous—

She shut down the mental tirade. It would serve her no good now. The simple fact

she’d shifted at all, in the middle of his living room, was enough to make her heart

threaten to smash its way out of her body via her throat. Flying over Sydney, all those

Lexxie Couper

houses, all those people…what if someone saw her? A white dragon the size of a bus

flying through a moonlit sky wasn’t exactly hard to miss. God, she’d never been so

petrified.

And excited beyond belief.
She’d forgotten the sheer rapture of flying, of soaring through the sky, the wind

streaming over her face, her wings, swirling around her tail. She’d forgotten the magic

of her other form, the freedom, the beauty…

Stop it, Kenna. This isn’t you anymore. It can’t be. Look what happens when you give in to

your dragon side? You get your heart ripped out.

Slight movement behind one of the dark windows made her stiffen. She narrowed

her eyes, crouching a little lower. Since the shift into her dragon form, her senses had

heightened to a preternatural point. She could smell the fleas on the dog sleeping at the

back door of the house two doors away. She could hear the wild owls launching from

the trees in the park in which she’d landed two kilometers behind her. She could see the

faintest disturbance of the curtains in the windows of the house before her.

She could taste Rick on her lips, her tongue.
Stop it. Stop it stop it stop it!
Her belly twisted. Her sex constricted. Her dragon surged for release, so close to the

surface Kenna wondered how she remained human. Every fiber in her body demanded

she fly back to Rick now and beg him to make love to her. To continue their mating. Her

flesh prickled with heat and her heart raced with want.

Her brain, however…well, at least part of her dual existence knew what to do.
Stay away from him.
Arrest him.
Kill him.
Her gut didn’t just twist on that last thought, it rolled. She couldn’t kill him. She

knew that. But she could hate him. Hate him for what he’d turned out to be. And she

did. Damn it, she did.

Which is why you can’t stop aching for him, yes? Why you feel so wretched?
The faint sound of a toilet flushing in the house before her tweaked Kenna’s strung

nerves and she watched the curtains move again—a minute shift—before silent stillness

claimed the residence again. There was no other activity in the neighborhood. Not too

surprising, given that it was now well past midnight.

She flicked a quick look at the clothes hanging on the line. A pair of men’s

camouflage pants, a child’s Elmo t-shirt, some underthings—none of them a bra—a

fluorescent-pink pair of shorts also belonging to a child and a black thing that may or

may not be a shirt made for the Hulk. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth,

studying each item. There wasn’t much to choose from, but it was better than nothing.

Which was what she currently wore.

Let’s hope to God G.I Joe and the Hulk don’t mind me borrowing.

How to Love Your Dragon

The thought danced through her head, flippant and cheeky. A Rick Hayes response

to the situation if ever there was one.

Kenna closed her eyes for a second, biting back a curse. Or a sigh. Damn it, the

bastard had gone and imprinted himself on her psyche.

Her belly flip-flopped again, her chest tightened and her sex tingled.
Face it, Kenna. You fell in love with your Fire Mate and now you have to live with that.
She opened her eyes and stared at the clothes. True. But she didn’t have to live with

him. When she got home, she was buying a one-way ticket to New Zealand. She’d heard

the New Zealand police force was screaming for new officers. Transferring from Sydney

should be a breeze. If it wasn’t, she’d become a dog walker.

And that’s your answer? To run away? Again?
She ground her teeth, ignoring the biting thought.
Inside her, aching for release again, her dragon roared.
With one last look at the silent house, she counted to three then sprinted across the

backyard for the clothesline, the bloody gash in her shoulder throbbing the whole way.

Pegs went flying as she yanked the camouflage pants and black shirt from the line.

One hit the side of the house with a thwack, but Kenna didn’t wait to see if anyone came

to investigate. She ran back to the protective cover of the hedge, ducking behind it just

long enough to slip her legs into the trousers and tug the shirt over her head. Both

swam on her. With furious haste, she knotted the waistline of the shirt at her belly but

there was nothing she could do about the pants. They hung so low on her hips her

pubic hair was almost visible.

For a dizzying second the memory of Rick pressing his face to the junction of her

thighs assaulted her, and then she was running again. Past the side of the house, over

the front fence and onto the quiet street.

She had to get home.
Fly. Fly and swoop and soar and—
She bit back a groan, refusing to listen to the suggestive call. She was done with

being seduced by her dragon’s existence and everything that came with it.

Thirty minutes later, she was done with running. Her bare feet were sore and her

unrestrained breasts ached. She wasn’t unfit, but she wasn’t built to run for so long

without a bra or shoes. And the still-weeping wound didn’t help. The more she ran, the

faster her blood flowed, dripping down her arm. She was surprised her head wasn’t

spinning. It would be quicker if she called her station and asked for someone to collect

her, drive her home, but the questions she’d have to field if she did…

How did she explain her state of dress? The bloody cut on her shoulder? The

absence of her handbag?

Her feet stumbled. Her bag…hell, her keys and car were all back at Rick’s. Damn it.
Get them later. Stake out his home, break in and get them when he goes to work.

Lexxie Couper

Break in? She’d taken out half the side of his house when she’d shifted inside his

living room. She didn’t think any more “breaking” would be required.

A sharp pang of guilt sliced through her at the memory. Another at the last sight of

Rick, falling to his knees amongst the rubble of his home, his face lifted to the sky as she

flew away, his expression as wretched as she felt…

Kenna stumbled to a halt. She had to. As hard as it was to run barefooted and

braless, it was hard to even walk while crying. And she was crying.

Damn, was she crying.

How to Love Your Dragon

Chapter Nine

The sun was kissing the eastern horizon by the time she rounded the corner to her

street. Her feet no longer hurt. Three suburbs back, she’d resorted to stealing a pair of

flip-flops she’d spied sitting at the front door of a house. Running in flip-flops was

impossible, however, and she’d continued walking the rest of the way home.

She’d refused to think about Rick during that time. After her pathetic crying attack,

she’d turned her mind to her future. As she walked through the suburbs, she’d planned

her letter of resignation from the police force. She’d planned her reason for moving—

family commitments (ha! How ironic was that?)—and she’d even planned her new

identity. The beauty of being a cop was, she knew exactly which criminal element to

harass to get what was needed to start all over.

New birthday, new name, new passport, new everything.
Except starting over again isn’t going to give you a new heart, is it? Or make you forget the

man…

The thought trailed off. Her feet stopped moving. Her heart—her old, torn heart—

leaped into her throat.

Rick leaned against her front fence, ankles crossed at the end of his long, lean legs,

muscled arms folded over his broad chest, his face turned to her where she stood

frozen, three houses away.

Oh God.
Her stomach dropped. Her mouth turned dry. The desire to run to him, to throw

herself into his arms and beg him to tell her it was all a mistake, that he’d never

slaughtered a dragon, slammed into her.

The desire to run to him and smash her fist into his jaw, to kick him as he fell, was

just as powerful.

So she did neither. Just stood still, staring at him.
A very small smile pulled at the side of Rick’s mouth. He unfolded one arm,

something small and silver dangling from his fingers. “You left these at my house.”

Kenna took a quick look, her own lips curling a little. Her keys.
After she’d destroyed his home, he’d brought her keys to her.
Go to him. Talk to him. You owe him at least that.
She began walking. With each step closer, with each fall of her stolen-thong-shod

feet on the sidewalk, her heart thumped harder in her throat and her mouth grew drier.

And her dragon flexed and stirred and preened. Eager. Impatient.

Lexxie Couper

Five steps away from him, she stopped. She couldn’t go any farther. It was silly, she

knew. She was a cop, for Pete’s sake. She was supposed to be intimidated by nothing

and no one. She had an arrest record the likes of which even the State Commissioner

would be envious. She took down criminals without batting an eyelid.

But this was different. Rick wasn’t just a man. He was her Fire Mate.
And a dragon killer.
You know Rick didn’t butcher the dragon, right? Not the man standing right there, looking

at you. Waiting for you to make a move. He didn’t do anything but make you feel alive and safe

and loved.

“I like your getup.”
His low voice, tinged with the slightest hint humor, made her chest squeeze. Or

maybe it was the way he looked? Wretched and haunted and sexy and roguish.

How is that possible, Kenna? For starters, shouldn’t wretched cancel out roguish?
It was possible because, despite the torment in his face, the playful grin she’d come

to expect teased the corners of his mouth even now, and his eyes seemed to light up

with an undeniable happiness as his gaze roamed her face. As if she was his whole

world, and he was completely, utterly and one-hundred-percent okay with that.

She licked her lips, unsure what to say.
His grin pulled a little bit more at his lips, his dimples almost showing. “I especially

like the Hello Kitty thongs. They’re so you.”

Kenna was surprised at the soft chuckle that bubbled up her throat. It had been

close to six hours since she’d flown from his destroyed living room. Six hours since he’d

been inside her, since they’d consummated the mating fire, but damn it, standing here

now, this close to him, it was as if he’d only just brought her to release. Her heart was

beating fast, her breath was growing shallow and her pussy was throbbing.

And still, she couldn’t draw any closer. Not knowing what he’d done in his Druid

life. “How did you find me?”

“I used the mystical connection between us.”
She narrowed her eyes. She had a mystical connection with a murderous Druid?
Great.
His grin turned lopsided and he let out a barely audible sigh, tossing her keys to

her. “Kidding. I looked at your driver’s license to find out where you lived.”

She didn’t respond. Her voice, it seemed, had deserted her.
He turned and gave a quick look to her home, a small two-bedroom cottage on a

quiet street ten kilometers from the heart of Sydney. “I parked your car in the garage.

Your clothes are on the passenger seat.” He returned his attention to her face. “I

couldn’t find your shoes. They may be under the ceiling.”

How to Love Your Dragon

Kenna fiddled with her keys. Inside, her dragon flexed. Ignoring his not-so-subtle

comment about the state in which she’d left his living room, she gave a small nod.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His gaze slid to her shoulder, his nostrils flaring as he no doubt

saw the blood soaking through her stolen shirt. “You’re hurt? Do you want me to—”

She shook her head, wrapping a hand over her burning injury as she took as step

backward. “No. It’s fine.”

He stood still, his expression unreadable. No doubt waiting for her to do

something.

A long second passed. And another.
Kenna’s chest constricted. Each breath she drew was tight and shallow. Why was

this so hard?

What? Being a coward?
The thought slid through her mind like a cold trickle. She swallowed at the lump

suddenly at home in her throat. She was being a coward. She had to tell him to leave. To

go and never try to see her again. She had to tell him that, though they may be Fire

Mates, though their souls and hearts and bodies were irrevocably entwined and joined,

they could never be together. She had to tell him that even though he’d given her such

passion, such rapture, such joy in the little time they’d known each other, he could

never touch her again.

She needed to tell him she could never trust him. Damn it, she had to tell him.
Then do so. Before you forget the reason you fled his home and ask him to hold you, kiss you,

make love to you again.

“Rick—” she croaked.
He didn’t let her finish. “I would never hurt you, Kenna,” he said with a shake of

his head. “You know me. That sounds ridiculous, given we only met yesterday—Jesus,

only yesterday?—but you know me. You’ve seen me at my worst trying to flirt my way

out of a speeding ticket, and you’ve seen me at my best.”

Kenna stared at him, her blood pounding in her ears. She had. Fighting the rules of

nature and science to save a dog’s life. At the time, she’d been too shocked by the

mating fire to truly comprehend the phenomenal skill and deep calm during his

interaction with the dog, but she remembered it now. It told her Rick’s “best” was

caring and wonderful and compassionate and humane.

“I’m a lot of things, Kenna,” he continued, taking a step closer, “most of them

superficial, and until I met you, the only thing I took serious in my life was my calling—

being a vet. And it is a calling. I can no more turn my back on an animal needing care,

needing help, than I can hack off my own arm.” A wry smile filled his face. “And I like

my arm, Kenna. It kinda comes in handy.”

She stopped her own smile at his ridiculous pun before it could curl her lips.

Lexxie Couper

He let out a sigh, his eyebrows dipping into a frown. “But here’s the thing. I’m not a

liar. A flirt? Yes. A joker? Sure. An idiotic git at times? You betcha. But never a liar. If I

were a liar, I would have fed you some bullshit story back in my living room, just after

I’d discovered what my past self had done. Just after I’d discovered how much I loved

you…”

Kenna’s breath caught in her throat.
Love? Oh God, Kenna. He loves you. As you love him.
He didn’t give her time to consider what that meant. Taking another step forward,

he held her motionless with his stare. “I would have said I had a cramp, that an old

sports injury was playing up, or that I’d had a feed of bad clams for dinner. But I didn’t.

I told you the truth—in my previous life as a Druid, I killed a dragon who was my Fire

Mate, giving my soul a shot of spiritual steroids.”

Cold tension washed through Kenna’s stomach at his vile statement. She opened

her mouth to tell him to stop, but he shook his head.

“It worked. What I can do with animals, the way I can calm them, commune with

them without language, treat them and heal them when modern medicine shouldn’t be

able to, isn’t normal. And yet it’s more than that. I never get sick, I look much younger

than I am and I honestly can’t say anything scares me. But you know what? That wasn’t

the sole reason I performed the ritual.”

Kenna stared at him. Her blood roared in her ears. Her pulse pounded in her neck.

Was any reason justification for what he’d done?

At her continued silence, he let out a low chuckle. “Right after you…remodeled my

living room, the rest of my Druid memories hit me. And I mean hit me. There I was,

being my normal charming self to the cop who’d just arrived at the deconstruction

site—by the way, if you know an Officer Lidcombe, I don’t think he likes me very

much—when all of a sudden I was in a grove of trees, covered in blood…healing her.

My dragon.”

Kenna blinked. What?
Rick held her gaze, as if terrified she was going to run. “Oistin Raghnall and the

dragon were Fire Mates, and he—me, I mean I—was saving her. I saw it all, Kenna. I

lived it all again, right there amongst the rubble of my living room with Officer bloody

Lidcombe’s torch beam shining in my eyes. I cut out her heart, I drank of her blood and

before her heart could stop beating, I offered my soul to the Deities to save hers. To join

us together for an eternity.”

“W-why…” She stopped. Her mouth was too dry to speak.
“Because I loved her. Because she had been attacked by a…a…” He frowned,

shaking his head. “I don’t remember the word, an Extra Vena…vena-something, and I

had to save her.”

Kenna’s throat squeezed shut. Deep within, her dragon shrieked. “Venator? An

Extraho Venator?”

How to Love Your Dragon

Recognition flooded Rick’s face. He nodded. “That’s it. An Extraho Venator. I don’t

know what that is, but I remember feeling more hate than I’d ever believed possible

when my thoughts turned to the Extraho Venator. And then even more hatred when I

looked at the man lying dead on the ground near my Fire Mate.”

“You…you killed a dragon hunter?”
A soft snort slipped from Rick. “From what I can remember, I didn’t just kill him. I

beat the shit out of him barehanded, tore his throat open and shoved multiple crossbow

bolts up his arse.” He ducked his head, giving Kenna what she could only call a shy

grimace. “Apparently I really, really didn’t like him.”

If Kenna thought she’d previously been struck speechless since meeting Rick

Hayes, she’d been wrong. After what he’d just revealed, not only couldn’t she find

words, she couldn’t find thought.

“I killed a man,” he continued, his voice raw, “and I saved my dragon. I know I did.

And I also know we lived a long life together before both our souls passed into the next

life. Do you know how I know this, Officer Kenna Mackay?”

She shook her head. It was her only option.
“Because you are that dragon. All the magic and pain of the ritual didn’t just come

back to me in those memories, Kenna. Our passion and desire and love did as well. I

gave my soul to the Deities. Oistin Raghnall gave his soul to the Deities for the dragon

he loved, and the Deities gave him the ability to heal her. Which he did—I did. And it

took a long time, hundreds of years, but we found each other again. Your Fire Mate is a

walking, talking instrument of the ancient Druid gods, baby. And I charge three

hundred bucks an hour.”

The claim was so unexpected, and yet so Rick, Kenna couldn’t stop her laughing

snort. Nor could she fight the hot tears stinging her eyes. And she didn’t even try to

stop him taking another step—the last step—toward her. He stood but a foot away, his

gaze eating up her face.

“I know you don’t have to believe me, Kenna. I know what your sister went

through means trusting anyone is damn near impossible, but does it help at all if I tell

you I’m the only vet in North Sydney to specialize in reptiles? And that I’ve been the

consulting vet more than once at the zoo where my cousin is the Komodo dragon

keeper?”

He stilled, studying Kenna with an expression that bordered on boyish hope. She

stared backed at him. She should be insulted. He’d just compared her to a lizard, after

all. An un-evolved reptile, no matter how good his intentions, and yet she wasn’t

insulted. She was…damn, was it even possible? Happy?

Her skin prickled with rising heat and warmth curled low in her belly.
Yes, she was happy. But still…
A sudden thought occurred to her, a ghost of a conversation she’d had only a few

hours earlier with Tyson Conley whispering through her mind. And if your Druid is who

I think he is, we’ll see you for dinner tomorrow night.

Lexxie Couper

She narrowed her eyes, giving Rick a sideward stare. “Do you know Tyson

Conley?”

Rick blinked, his head cocking to the side. “The guy who just married my cousin?

Tall, dark and stupidly wealthy? Lives on Potts Point and rides a Honda Fireblade?”

His answer was the only one Kenna needed. The final answer she needed. She

closed that last foot between them, slid her arms around his neck, raised herself onto

her tiptoes and kissed him.

And he kissed her back. A heartbeat before he pulled his lips from her, grinned and

said, “I’m pretty bloody certain I’ve fallen in love with you, Officer Mackay, and if you

don’t mind having a partner who tends to speed from time to time, I’d like to spend the

rest of my life with you.”

Kenna smiled. She couldn’t help herself. “I’m pretty damn certain I’ve fallen in love

with you too, Dr. Hayes. Although I’ll make you sleep on the sofa if you come home

with a speeding fine.”

Rick’s dimples flashed. “Deal. Now let’s get you inside so I can make love to you.

Long, luxurious, wicked love, after which I’ll fuck your brains out and then make love

to you again. Is that okay?”

“Perfectly.”
Rick grinned. “Glad to hear it. After we’ve done all that, you can tell me how you

know Tyson Conley. Something tells me, however, it has something to do with wings,

scales and Sera’s lifetime obsession with reptiles.”

Kenna’s smile stretched wider. “Deal. And yes, I suspect it does.”
Rick pulled a smug face. “I thought as much. He’s way too good at cooking a

barbeque.”

She laughed, leaning into his body. The action bumped her wounded shoulder

against his arm and she hissed as hot pain lanced through her.

“Let me look at that, babe.” Rick was pushing the baggy black shirt away from her

wound before she could stop him. Impatient frustration ate at her. She didn’t want to

waste time on a scratch. She wanted Rick inside her. Now.

“It’s nothing,” she murmured, trying to pull away.
But he wouldn’t let her. His eyebrows creased together, his fingertip dancing over

the torn gash with gentle confidence. “This is going to need stitches,” he said, and

Kenna couldn’t help but smile at the professional tone his voice suddenly took. “And

some—”

He quieted abruptly, his gaze fixed on her injury, a calm stillness falling over him.

His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched and, as Kenna watched, he closed his eyes and

pressed one palm flat against the wound.

“Ri—”
His name didn’t even finish forming on her lips. A wave of heat radiated through

her shoulder, as hot as molten lava and as pure as the fire of true rapture. She wanted to

How to Love Your Dragon

cry out, she wanted to scream. The smell of burning flesh filled her nose, white pain

filled her head, a climax began to build between her thighs, thick and potent and

powerful—and then it all vanished.

Gone.
She looked at Rick, her heart hammering against her breastbone, her breathing

shallow and rapid, her shoulder…

Kenna frowned. She snapped her stare to her wounded shoulder, her eyes

widening when Rick slowly pulled his hand from her flesh.

“Well fuck, eh?”
His laughed exclamation couldn’t drown out her stunned shock.
Her shoulder was healed. Rick had somehow, without medical equipment, sealed

the wound with his hand alone.

And the Deities gave him the ability to heal her…
She looked up at him, his words whispering through her head. He’d healed her.

With just a touch, he’d healed her.

A soul-deep awareness blossomed within her, teasing licks of a life she’d once lived

with the very man holding her. Her dragon purred and flexed, bathing in the warmth

and joy those licks awoke.

Rick studied her shoulder, a long, thorough inspection before lifting his stare to her

face and cocking an eyebrow. “Looks like I can charge four hundred bucks an hour now,

doesn’t it?” He snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his body. “How

do you fancy spending the rest of your life with a filthy rich vet?”

Kenna laughed, pressing her hips closer to his. “I don’t need a filthy rich one. You’ll

do just fine.”

He chuckled. “Glad to hear it. Never been one for ostentatious wealth.” His hands

worked their way down the length of her back and beneath the loose waistband of her

stolen camouflage pants, his fingertips brushing the swell of her ass cheeks.

Little ribbons of delight unfurled through Kenna’s core and she pressed herself

closer. That she’d been foolish enough to try to deny herself this man made her head

spin. That she’d been deluded enough to believe it possible made it spin some more.

From the second she’d seen him, smiling at her from behind the wheel of his pickup, his

blue eyes shining with roguish charm, his dimples creasing his cheeks, his voice playing

with her senses, she’d known her fate had been sealed.

Their fate. A lifetime together. A lifetime already spent together. And if the old lore

about Druids was true, that lifetime would be long.

She was completely, utterly okay with that.
Rick’s lips found hers, his kiss searing. And abruptly short. “Oh, and one more

thing,” he said, sliding his hands down her ass until he cupped her cheeks completely,

his expression no longer smug but boyishly hopeful once again. “What are the odds of

you taking me for a ride one night?”

Lexxie Couper

Kenna laughed, dragging her own hands down his back, over his hips until she

tugged open his fly and wrapped her fingers around his very hard cock. “About as

good as the odds of me riding this in the next half hour.”

His dimples flashed. “That good, eh?”
Kenna nodded. “That good.” She squeezed his thick shaft once more. “Now take

me inside before I arrest you for public indecency.”

Rick’s lips curled into another grin, the same grin as the first he’d ever given her, a

grin that said, “I’m sexy and charming and will rock your world.”

Kenna’s belly flip-flopped. How right that grin was.
Eyes twinkling, he lowered his head to hers and brushed a teasing kiss over her

mouth. “Will you cuff me if I don’t?”

She nodded. Once.
He chuckled. “Well, in that case…” And with one fluid move, he yanked her shirt

over her head, dropped to his knees and captured her right nipple in his mouth.

Kenna threw back her head, buried her fingers in his hair and held on, a deliciously

scorching heat razing her willing flesh as the rising sun bathed her in golden light.

Damn, being a dragon shifter had never felt so good.

The End

About the Author

Lexxie’s not a deviant. She just has a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain

readers with her words. Add the two together and you get darkly erotic romances with

a twist of horror, sci-fi and the paranormal.

When she’s not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie’s life revolves around

her family: a husband who thinks she’s insane and her daughters, who both utterly

captured her heart and changed her life forever.

Living in Australia makes it a bit tricky for Lexxie to pop by for coffee, but she still

loves to chat! Contact her by email or find her at her website or her blog

(

http://lexxiecouper.wordpress.com/

Lex welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

addresses on her

author bio page

www.ellorascave.com

Tell Us What You Think

We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at

Comments@EllorasCave.com

LSO BY

EXXIE

OUPER

Blowing it Off

Cougar Challenge: Copping a Feel

Seven Deadly Daemons 1: Timeless Wrath

Seven Deadly Daemons 2: Endless Lust

Stone’s Soul

Ty the Sexy Dragon

Print books by Lexxie Couper

Cougar Hunt

anthology

Going Down Under

anthology

Passionate Peridot

anthology

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning

publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC

on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you

breathless.

www.ellorascave.com

Document Outline

How to Love Your Dragon
Dedication
To Christi Snow, whose brutal honesty made writing this so much more enjoyable.
“Err…I don’t think—”
Chapter Two
She who is born of fire she who is born of flight she who is born of…
She who is born of fire she who is born of flight she who is born of…
She who is born of fire she who is born of flight she who is born of…
She who is born of fire she who is born of flight she who is born of…
Oh Dian Cécht, I have found…
“Oh…y-yes…God…oh that’s so…”
“Oh God, Rick, yes…yes…”
Chapter Three
“Err…”
One more kiss. Just one…
Oh yes, just one more. One more kiss, one more orgasm, one more…
Need her need my Fire Mate need her—
Need her need my Fire Mate need her…
“I—”
Chapter Four
His hands glisten, his heart races. Lifting the—
Christ…
“But—”
Need him. Want him. Oh God, I need…
Chapter Five
Claim her mate with her join with your Fire Mate and—
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
“Oh God.” She bucked. A little. “What…how can…”
Primed with trust and love and…
Chapter Eight
Kenna’s eyes grew wide. Her mouth fell open. “Go? You can’t be—”
Christ, Rick. She’s…is she… Christ, she’s changing!
Chapter Nine
Yes, she was happy. But still…
“Ri—”
And the Deities gave him the ability to heal her…
Also by Lexxie Couper

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