Shifter Fae Romance: a Dragon Mate 01

The view from the window would have been beautiful if Emera weren't standing on the ledge, one slip-up away from falling to her death. She leaned against the window behind her for support.

Rule 1: always keep a clear head

. Rule one was routine as breathing: tensing and releasing each muscle, slowly mapping her body and where she stood. Focusing on deep breaths. Goosebumps rose across her back where the cold window bit through her leather outfit. Her feet were planted firmly on the ledge. She was not going to fall.

Think of Rule 2

. Anything but look down.

"Nico, you sneaky bastard," Emara muttered. "If I survive, you're dead." Her vow was quiet, breath puffing in the air in front of her. For once he had managed his teleport spell perfectly. One foot to the north and she would've missed the ledge. It was a long drop to the ground.

Rule 2: don't stay in one place for long.

Carefully she lifted one hand from the glass and moved it to the pack strapped to her waist. She squeezed her eyes closed. A breeze whistled through the air. It took only a moment of rifling through the pack to find the object she was looking for. She tore the wax cap off the vial with her teeth and chugged the contents. She waited impatiently for the spell to begin to work.

It was a few painful moments until the tingling sensation began. The hairs on her arms raised as her potion began to work through her system. A ripple of unease moved down her spine, but she didn't think too hard about it. Instead, she eased herself backwards carefully, taking a step through the glass and onto the hardwood floors of the gallery room behind her.

When she finally dared open her eyes, she was inside the room staring out at the glass. Her breath didn't fog in the air anymore. Warmth enveloped her. She suppressed a shiver.

It was always a pleasant surprise when Nico's spells worked the way she expected. There was always a chance the black-market item he bought wouldn't work the way it was supposed to. Her mouth slipped into a grimace thinking of the time she'd been transformed into a mouse. Or when she'd been knocked unconscious. That time Nico's mistake had landed her a night in the dungeons.

Rule 3: Memorize your surroundings.

Emera pulled on her gloves from her pack, slipping into the shadowy corner of the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined two of the walls. It was cloudy outside, but the bits of moonlight that peeked through the clouds shrouded the room in spotty darkness.

Just enough light for Emera to make out the shapes of the large cases and pedestals that filled the room. She could only guess their uses. It reminded her of a museum she'd visited as a child, except there seemed no organization or structure to the way the glass cases had been set up. There were no easy pathways around the space.

Her mouth went dry as she realized what room she was standing in. This had to be a mansion of a rich lord, but not of the human variety. Most of the lords in the Wren had abandoned their mansions at the beginning of the war, leaving the spaces for the fae conquers to take over. Emera took a shaking breath.

Rule 4: keep your head.

She would confront Nico about it later. This wasn't the first time she'd stolen from a fae... but did accidentally pick pocketing one really count? She took a few calming breaths. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made her hands shake.

She moved quietly around the room as she took in the columns and shelves of objects. She could feel many magical pulses throughout the room. Objects made of gilded metal, pots, cabinets of books. Perhaps it was a private collection left by a wealthy lord. Nico seemed to especially hate the lords of Wren, but it surprised Emera he would take such bold measures. Risking pissing off a lord over a single object seemed... stupid. Even for Nico.

She shook off the thought. Her job was to get in and out. Nico had taught her long ago that there was no sense in fretting over the details. The less she knew the less risk for her and her partner.

When she found a shadowed recess in the wall she paused. Taking a deep breath, she pictured the object Nico had drawn for her: a slender statue, perhaps made of bronze. A carved naked woman with her arms draped over her body.

Laying in ecstasy,

Nico had called it. He had drilled the image into her mind and shown her its magical signature. All she had to do now was look.

Emara kept her eyes closed until she felt the tug coming from deep in her chest. When she opened her eyes, the room was unchanged, but she suddenly had an idea of where to go.

As she began to move through the room the itching began. It started as a subtle tickle against her palms. It would intensify the longer it took her to get the object.

Insurance

, Nico called it. A time bomb that ensured she would get the object quickly or die trying.

Emara grinned. This was the start of the game.

As she tip toed through the room she was careful to avoid other objects. It was like working through a maze. The pull brought her to a pedestal in the centre of the room, well-lit in the moonlight. The little object glittered. Emera paused, coming to a stop before she reached the shaft of light. It was the only object without a glass casing.

The hairs raised on her arms as she stared at it. This figurine was expensive- Nico had taken no risks, procured her the best potions and carefully teleported her. His expectations were always a weight heavy on her shoulders. She squared herself, standing up taller. She had vowed to impress him one day, and she would not fuck it up now.

Slowly she prowled around the pedestal, checking for obvious sigils and magical wards. The room was rigged with traps and magic, many of which she'd easily bypassed. There was likely an internal security mechanism, something magical that would trigger when she took the object.

The tingling worsened in her palms, moving across her hands and into her wrists. She gritted her teeth against the pain. The pulling sensation worsened, tugging her a step closer to the object. Then it stopped. Emera frowned. She could feel a tug somewhere else in the room now, as if the object magical signature had moved. She looked around uneasily in the darkness, then back at the object before her.

That

was definitely new.

Rule 5: Don't worry about the details

.

"Every job has its challenge," Emera muttered.

She weighed her options only for a moment- she already knew what route she would choose. This room didn't feel right- it was likely saturated with fae magic that was twisting her senses. The longer she stayed the more danger she was in. She always took the simplest option in any situation, and this one was blatantly clear: grab the object and run. Nico could figure out the rest later.

This was the best part of her job, the part she called

the chase

. Getting in and out as quickly as possible and surviving, was the highest high, the strongest thrill she'd ever encountered. Her muscles tensed as she readied herself. She'd snatch the object, make it a safe distance from the more volatile magical objects, and teleport out. She reached for the object-

The voice that broke the silence was laced with magic, freezing Emera's blood cold in her veins. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Her fingers remained taunt, outstretched, nearly touching the glittering bronze. Her stomach began to churn with horror as she realized she couldn't move. She was frozen still. Her entire body remained rigid and tight, her heart thundering in her chest.

The voice spoke in a slow, lazy cadence, dripping with the quiet thrum of power of someone who could command a room with a single word. "What are you doing here?" The master of this home. And it was definitely a

he

. The thickly accented, gravelly voice of a powerful man coming from behind her.

Her heart leapt in her throat. There was a blade at her thigh that she was loathsome to use, but it would buy her enough time to escape. Or her potions in her backpack. And then she remembered what he was.

Fear was beginning to blur the edges of her vision. As she began to panic, she tried to move against the magic. She could barely manage to move her eyes. It was impossible against the force of his magic. The man she faced was a powerful fae, a stronger witch than even Nico. She wasn't strong enough to beat him in combat. She wouldn't stand a chance when he had total control over her body. She was completely screwed.

Something hot pressed against her arm. Some of the spell's magic broke as the man yanked her outstretched hand away from the pedestal. It felt akin to being pulled from a strange, numb fog. She staggered backwards, barely having enough time to react before she was frozen in the vice grip of his magic once more. He held her firmly, staring down at her.

Emera tried to fight, but it felt like she was swimming against an ocean current. The magic was sucking the energy from her body rapidly. At least she could still breath. She sucked in deep gulping breaths as she tried to move. Desperation was beginning to course through her as the reality of the situation sunk in. She was breaking the human-fae treaty. She would be locked away for decades. Her life, her family's, and Nico's were all going to be over. Tears stung her eyes, and her breaths shuddered in her chest. And then she smelled him.

When he stepped into her view she froze. He was wearing only a robe, fastened lazily at the waist so that it hung open, revealing his bare chest. When he tightened his grip on her she could see the muscles flex, rippling with the movement. She considered how he had gotten across the room without alerting her. He was fast. And when her eyes raised to his face, her worst fear was confirmed. He was not human.

She was staring at a dragon shifter. The rarest of all fae. Impossibly beautiful and terrifying. The small black scales in his hairline, disappearing into his black hair were unmistakable. The fiery red eyes. The sharp jawline and perfect lips. He inhaled deeply and grinned. She could see lengthened incisors there too.

All he had to do was call his guards. They would behead her for this if she was lucky. The fae enjoyed torture more than any other species. They kept humans alive with their magic, regrowing skin, healing fatal wounds so they could re-inflict them. They would erase human's memories so when their minds broke, they could be broken again. Since the Wren had been on the loosing side of the war, it was illegal for humans to commit any crime against the fae.

"I've caught a mouse." His voice was a purr, decadent and quiet.

Even with the fear and anger roiling inside her, Emera couldn't resist the charm of the fae. Their magic put them leagues above humans. She fought the urge to bow her head to the beast, to give into the primal urge that told her to bow down to him and do as he wished. Even if he would kill her, she would keep whatever dignity she had.

Rule 8: if you are caught, don't give anything away.

Nico had taught her how to resist most basic magic. It wouldn't be enough to stop the fae magic, but if she was lucky, she could distract him or direct his interest. If he could read her mind or make her tell the truth, like the fae were rumoured to do, she could try to make it seem like she was working completely alone. Like she had no family or friends or anyone else to risk. She looked up at the shifter, meeting his red eyes.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" He took a sauntering step forward. He completely filled her vision now, only a foot or so separating them.

She trembled as she kept eye contact. She took another deep breath, scenting him all over again. Her body tightened against the assault in a completely different way now. Her clothes suddenly felt too tight, too scratchy, and uncomfortable. She had not been born in the paranormal world, but she recognized the heady, heavy cloying smell anywhere. She'd only ever smelled such scents fractionally. As ingredients in the potions Nico sometimes brewed. Never directly from the source, the magic coming off the man in front of her in thick waves. She'd stumbled into the lair of a dragon shifter, and he was in heat.

He cocked his head to the side, looking her up and down slowly. His nostrils flared. "Your fear is growing stronger... didn't you realize the risks you were taking when you broke into my home? Did you think you could outrun a dragon?" There was another glimpse of his fangs when he chuckled.

Her eyes widened. She was thankful her mouth was frozen shut so she couldn't respond and say that it wasn't his home, it was a home he'd stolen. Even if she had no idea what she'd gotten herself into.

He paused. "Or... you didn't know, did you? Oh, this is rich!" With a flick of his wrist, she was stumbling again, turned fully now so her back was pressed ot the pedestal behind her. Caged between the monster and his treasure. She tried desperately to move again.

"You are just now realising what I am, aren't you? What I am capable of."

His voice had turned to a low growl. He took a step closer. He pressed against her, his body hot and hard. She couldn't help but gasp against him. His scent invaded her senses once more. Horrified, she could feel her core clench against nothing, the emptiness aching. Fear gripped her at the realisation.

The panic was beginning to set in. Finally, she was able to move her mouth. "Let-me-go!" Her words came out strangled between gasps. All of Nico's lessons blurred into one in her mind. She couldn't focus on any of it. Only

him

.

She could only breath him in, see him in her vision. He grasped her chin, pulling her face up so he could inspect it. She was vaguely aware of the bite of a claw against her skin. His other hand was roaming, finding purchase at her waist to squeeze and hold tightly. His touch there burned, affecting her even more strongly than his scent.

The dragon clucked his tongue. He slowly shook his head. "I should turn you over to the council. Let them strip you down and question you. Hang you by your pretty little neck for attempting to steal from my horde. Don't you know my lot are awfully protective over their treasures?"

Her jaw clenched as she fought against the magic. Through her stubborn anger she was beginning to see it was impossible to escape. Still, her instincts warred inside her. Telling her to run, to search for an exit even if she couldn't move her head. Telling her to lie down and take her punishment, to face the predator before her and give in.

When she tried to look away again, he grasped her cheeks firmly with one hand and yanked her face forward. She realized then, through the pain and fear, that he wasn't actually staring at

her

. He was staring at her mouth. It clicked then- he'd called her pretty.

She had never met a shifter, but she had heard rumours about them. Alphas didn't go into heats, no, they went into ruts. A lust for sex that was said to drive even the strongest fae insane. The way out she'd been seeking wasn't through the window, or a teleport spell. It was through the man holding her hostage here.

All magic was unique but followed the same basic principles of intent. It didn't surprise her when she was finally able to lift her arms. Fractionally. She suspected any movements she attempted that weren't aimed directly at escaping would pass through the shifter's magic barrier. The thought was terrifying, but escape was no longer her primary motive. She would distract him, create a window for herself and escape.

When she swallowed, a thick lump was forming in throat. She couldn't help the thrill she felt slightly at the thought, of letting go letting go and giving in. She would create a window of escape through any means necessary.

She loosened her shoulders, trying to become as pliant as possible under his touch. Her hands landed heavily on his robe over his chest. He raised his brows at her.

"Perhaps- could- we could come to an- an agreement," she gasped.

His magic didn't loosen at her offer. It seemed to only tighten its hold around her. She tried not to tense under him, even as the claustrophobia set in. Her throat squeezed closed as if he gripped his fist around it. Her muscles were already beginning to shake from the effort of fighting back.

"An agreement? What are you, a witch?"

Emera's eyes squeezed closed. The magic was too powerful. She could truly be taking her last breath if she wasn't careful. She thought of her family. Of Nico. She needed to protect them. She could feel the dragon shift under her palm. Her body seemed to react naturally to him, to the swirling magic even as it threatened to kill her. She couldn't deny the pull she felt. Even if he did kill her, she was certain she would enjoy at least some of it.

Her head was beginning to pound. Her vision wavered as she blinked her eyes open. She couldn't die now. She would save her anger and her energy and escape.

She managed to move her hand a fraction, from the silky material of his robe to his bare chest. Her nails raked against his skin. The touch burned like fire. She gritted her teeth against it. She realized the tugging she'd felt, the pull that had drawn her across the room hadn't been the figurine at all. It had been him. His magic was like a fiery magnet, daring her to jump into the flames. The pain slowly began to melt away, along with the magical vice grip around her.

"I'm no witch," she said. "I had no idea this was your home. I wish to- to make up for my mistake." She swallowed, forcing out the words. "Perhaps we can help each other." Her hand slid lower; eyes locked with his. She paused before yanking at the cord of his robe. His jaw clenched tightly shut.

"It must be painful," she murmured. Her mouth watered as she spoke. Now that she wasn't fighting against the magic, she could feel the effects of it sinking into her muscles. His musky scent felt like it was permeating her now. "Let me show you how sorry-"

He grabbed her arm, stopping her before she could reach any lower. His voice was dangerously quiet but hoarse. "Be very careful."

He didn't move when she pulled her hand away. The choice was easy to make now. She was drawn to him. He was carved like a god, terrifying and beautiful and overwhelming. It had been years since someone had looked at her with the hunger she saw on his face. She could do this on her terms. And maybe she would enjoy every second of it.

She reached down and grasped him firmly with one hand. Her eyelids fluttered with surprise. Her lips parted in a quiet gasp. He was hot all over like she'd shoved her hand into flames, except the burning didn't hurt. It was a delicious heat, flooding her insides. As if her skin were frozen and he was the only source of warmth. She could feel the heat melting the tension and pain away. He let out a rough grunt when she stroked him.

"You think I'll let you walk free, after attempting ot steal from me, thief?" He demanded.

No

, Emera thought truthfully.

You don't have to

. She could see through his anger. His voice was too husky, eyes hooded with pleasure. All she could do was smell him, hot and heavy in the air around them.

"Let me help you and you can decide after," she murmured.

She found she no longer cared about his threats. The council seemed like such a tiny inconvenience compared to the pleasure she knew she could wring from him, the beast in front of her. She reached up on her tiptoes, stroking him once more roughly. He gritted his teeth, grabbing her braid at the base of her skull so tightly tears popped in the corners of her eyes.

"Aye, I'll decide after," he agreed, crushing her lips against his.

She pulled at his robe, tugging at his shoulders to loosen it off. Her hands glided over the hard contours of his body, muscles tensing under her touch. The robe barely made a sound when it fell to the cold floor.