Escape: A Dragon Shifter BBW Serial (Seeking Her Mates Book 2) Page 4

  “I see,” said Graeme. He was still frozen in place, eyeing everything at once: the buildings, the street, the people with their odd clothing. A man whipped by on a two-wheeled vehicle of some sort. Quickly he established that nothing was looking to kill him.

  Calm now, he asked a follow-up question: “And what’s a camera? And a vidyoo? And a youtube?” He was reminding her of a small, inquisitive child.

  Lily laughed. Of course, she’d known all of this before stepping into London; about film, television, technology in general, and it had still stunned her. She couldn’t begin to imagine how it all felt to Graeme.

  “Eventually you’ll know as much as I do,” she said. “For now: a camera is a sort of machine that takes your portrait and places it on paper, or a screen. I’ll explain the rest another time. Come, let’s walk. Stay near me and everything will be fine.”

  Graeme did so obediently, his height causing him to appear more like a bodyguard than a suitor. Often passersby slowed their pace, eyes fixed upon him, and Lily couldn’t tell if it was in awe at his size and good looks or in confusion at his clothing. She wished Conor were with them to read their minds.

  “Your friend,” said Graeme as they walked, as though knowing what she was thinking. “Conor, I think?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “He’s no shifter.”

  “No, not exactly. Not yet,” said Lily, wondering how much to disclose about his family history.

  “But you enjoy him.”

  “I do, yes. Very much, actually.”

  Lily took Graeme’s arm again and led him across a narrow street. The man hadn’t yet grown accustomed to the idea of looking both ways, and followed, his feet skittish and uncertain.

  “Do you wish to mate with him?” he asked when they’d safely reached the other side.

  Conor’s not the only one who asks forward questions, I see, thought Lily. “I do,” she replied. No harm in being honest. “I think, in fact, that he was intended as one of my mates, though I can’t fully explain why.”

  “But he has no title, no claim,” said Graeme. “It would be a dishonour to you and to your name. He’s not a nobleman.”

  Lily stopped and looked up at the man. Was he being serious? Yes, apparently he was.

  “He is of noble blood,” she said. “His family lived in a castle in Scotland, and still owns it to this day.”

  “But who is he? What do you know of him? Do you even know what sort of déor he would have, if he ever managed to become on of us?”

  Lily began walking again, Graeme staying by her side, protective and attentive at once.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “To be quite honest with you, I don’t particularly care either way. And I wouldn’t care if his family were a pile of janitors who lived in a box by the side of the road.”

  “But how can you not care? You are to have offspring, possibly with that man and me. Do you not want to know what you’re in for?”

  “My mother had no idea what she was in for when my fathers found her. And it meant that she enjoyed a great adventure. I suppose that’s what I aspire to: an unexpected life, rather than a predictable one.”

  Graeme went silent for a few minutes as they walked. They were approaching the busiest parts of Oxford Street, and the crowds were becoming thick, jostling one another with impunity.

  “While I understand your wishes, I think, my Lady,” said Graeme as they made their way between the pedestrians who parted before them in order to let the huge man through, “I cannot say that I am entirely convinced that such a match would be a good idea. He is not my equal, after all. He is a commoner who lives in this century, who has accomplished nothing. I am a warrior, a leader. A nobleman.”

  Lily stopped and turned his way again.

  “First,” she said, “In this century, you are equals. In fact, Conor owns, or at least rents, property while you do not. Second, he is special. He has skills and gifts, and they would be passed to our children.”

  “That is not the criteria for—”

  “For what?” she growled. “For love? For lust? For desire?”

  Graeme froze for a moment. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “Forgive me. Inside, there is a beast who longs for you, Lilliana. He is not chained in by rules, or held back by logic. He simply wants you. And so I do understand.”

  “Thank you, Graeme,” she said, taking a step towards him. So he had said it: he wanted her. And she wanted him. She had since that first second, when she’d seen him in the sky above.

  She put a hand on his chest, feeling a firm, solid pectoral muscle under her fingers which dug in in spite of herself. This was her the work of her own dragon, laying claim. Had she permitted further action, it would have torn the linen away from his skin and ravaged him there on the busy street, in front of strangers.

  “I understand lust,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I understand desire. And I think I’m beginning to understand love, slowly. I ask only one thing of you: let me follow my own instincts. I’m like you, you know. A dragon shifter.” She whispered the words. “So I’m no fool. Now let’s have some fun and put you in some proper clothing.”

  She pulled him into a shop which looked promising. Male mannequins stood in the window, looking buff and poised despite their lack of heads.

  Quickly she raced around, pulling jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and shoes off of every shelf and rack that she could find. She dragged Graeme over to a changing room and opened its door.

  “Go in,” she said. “I’ll follow.”

  He headed into the small space, turning around to examine his surroundings; something like an outhouse in size and shape, though he admitted to himself that it smelled better.

  “There is one last thing, Lilliana,” he said as he watched her hang up the clothes that they’d gathered. “About Conor.”

  “Yes?”

  “The Ritual is meant for full-blooded shifters. To inflict such a physical trial on a human could be dangerous.”

  Lily paused for a moment. She’d never thought of this.

  “What do you mean, dangerous?”

  “It will be hard on his body. If he survives the aftermath—if he becomes a shifter, that is. If, in fact, the blood is not in him, it will in all likelihood kill him.”

  The words were like a dagger. Lily realized as she contemplated their reality that she’d never really considered the possibility of having to give him up—yes, she’d worried that he’d be killed in the tournament, but there he had a chance to fight. To think that she could be responsible for his death…

  But no. Her mother had never shifted before her own Ritual, and she’d survived.

  Conor knew that he had the bloodline within him, or at least that was what he’d told her. And he was not one for deceit or dishonesty, at least not where lives were at risk. He knew his own family history, and as long as he had the bloodline within his own genetic structure, he should be strong enough.

  Then again, it had been generations since anyone in his ancestry had performed the Ritual…

  No. There was no other possible outcome: he would be her mate. It was meant to be, and they both knew it.

  “It’ll be all right,” she mouthed, the words coming out decisively while her mind still dwelt on the worst possible outcome. “He’ll be all right.”

  “It is ultimately up to fate,” said Graeme. “If it’s meant to be, then the man will thrive and grow powerful.”

  It seemed to Lily that he was beginning to accept the idea. For all his arguments against Conor, Graeme seemed genuinely open to the notion of allowing her to follow her own heart, and for that she respected him.

  She pulled a pair of blue jeans off the bench where she’d laid them and handed them to the man in front of her, realizing that he’d never dealt with such garments; a zipper would be a novelty. It was best that she help him, though once again she found herself in a far-too-intimate setting with a man whose character she was still trying to piece together.

  Graeme was quick to pull off his linens again, and this time the beast between his legs was dormant, albeit still impressive. Lily, who was standing in the cramped quarters as far away from him as she could, found herself ogling him again.

  “You enjoy my naked body,” he said, reminding her again of Conor with his forthrightness.

  “Well, I…why do you say that?”

  “Your eyes tell me. Again and again you look. It’s all right, Lilliana. You needn’t be ashamed. My déor and my man have both wondered what it must be like to behold you without the benefit of your clothing.”

  “You have?” Somehow, the explicit revelation shocked her.

  “Yes, I have.” Graeme, still naked, took a step forward. “I must confess that I wonder in particular what your nipples are like.”

  In that moment Lily felt as though the body parts in question were attempting to pierce her bra and sweater and show him. Hard, she wanted to say. Rock hard.

  She could smell him now, and it was good. And his own nose was inches from her neck, taking her in. She knew that he would smell her arousal and that the animal within him would be having trouble holding back.

  “You see,” he whispered, “Again, you’ve done this to me.”

  With that he took a step backwards. Lily didn’t even need to look; she knew exactly what he was referring to; his cock was rock hard, directing itself towards her as though requesting an audience.

  “I’m flattered…” she said.

  “My body wishes for yours. And yours for mine. But I suppose we will wait until it’s time. Pity.”

  Graeme pulled on a pair of jeans as Lily breathed deeply. The man tucked himself in as well as he could to the new denim, as Lily held back the desire to warn him off sampling clothing with a gigantic erection and no underwear. That was normally frowned upon, she wanted to tell him.

  But it was too late. And she was enjoying the sight far too much.

  The jeans fit perfectly, if one didn’t count the tight bulge in the front.

  “This is a particularly stiff material,” said Graeme, touching his thighs with his fingers.

  “Stiff. Yes, that’s an appropriate word for it,” said Lily, holding back a chuckle.

  “But comfortable enough. Does everyone wear such close-fitting clothing in this century? I did notice that your own garments seem bent upon displaying your shape to me. No doubt to tempt me to remove them.”

  “Yes, things are tight here, I suppose. The people in this time do a lot of running around. These clothes are…practical.”

  Lily wondered if anyone was in the next change room over, and if so what they would think of this conversation.

  Graeme pulled on a sweater: a brown one which seemed to coat each of his muscles like chocolate sauce melting over his flesh.

  “That’s…nice,” said Lily, wanting to drool. “Especially with those jeans.”

  In the mirror she could see his buttocks, perfectly encased in denim.

  “Yes,” she said. “If we can find you a few more things we’ll be good. So why don’t you try on the items we brought in and I’ll wait outside?”

  She left the small room then, closing the door behind her and letting a silent sigh of relief and something else escape her lips, which sounded a little like “Ho-ly crap.”

  There was no question: she was drawn to this man like a moth to a bonfire. Her body was now a mess: still-hard nipples, and a wetness between her legs which begged for a touch, a finger, a tongue. That cock.

  But her life would be more than a roll in the hay with gorgeous men; Graeme needed to show her what more he had to offer. Boasting about commanding armies did nothing for Lily; her fathers did it and while she recognized their skill, it was not by any means what had sold the two men to her mother.

  It was something else entirely; something that she was hoping she could see in him: strength of character.

  5

  They left the shop with three bags filled with clothing, all paid for by Lily’s family account. Graeme had seemed nearly to go into shock all over again when the woman behind the counter had pointed out that the price tag was several hundred pounds. How in God’s name had Lily transported such a weight in silver in her small bag?

  “I’ll explain inflation later,” she’d told him.

  When they’d left the shop, they turned towards her neighbourhood.

  “Are you hungry?” Lily asked.

  “I am,” Graeme said. “Is there good hunting around here?”

  “I suspect we could find a nice, tasty poodle in Hyde Park, though the owner might not appreciate it too much if we ate it for lunch.”

  Graeme laughed. He was finally beginning to see how utterly different things were in this era. “Right, then. No hunting. Take me to one of your public establishments.”

  Lily pulled him onto a side street and almost immediately located a proper-looking pub: an old English affair that looked almost as though it could fit into their era, with its warped windows and wooden façade.

  “This ought to do,” she said. “Just wait ’til you try fish and chips.”

  “I’ll be more than happy to sample anything that you’d like to put in my mouth, my Lady,” said her companion, whose mind seemed to veer once again towards the dirty end of the spectrum.

  “For now, I will provide you with food,” she said, pretending to glare at him. “And nothing more.”

  “Then food I shall accept.”

  They seated themselves at a time-worn wooden table by a window with criss-crossed leaded panes, Lily opposite Graeme.

  “You’re pretty forward, for a man who speaks of honour,” she said after she’d ordered two pints of beer. “Are you always this way with women?”

  “Forgive me,” he said. For a moment she thought he might blush, even. “I am not usually. The dragon within me—he does like to lead and guide me at times. He’s the one I blame for my attraction to you.”

  “Well, your human is a charmer.” Lily let out a laugh. The willful dragon was a familiar ailment, at least. “I think that, for all the joys of being dragon shifters, we got a raw deal. It takes a special sort of strength to fight back these creatures who try and take us over from within.”

  “It does. And I do not want you thinking that I lack strength,” said Graeme, leaning his elbows on the table. Lily could see his muscles bulge as he bent his arms under his new shirt.

  “Oh, strength isn’t something I think you lack, Lord…Graeme,” she said. “It’s only that I’m attempting to size you up. So far I know that you look very nice naked, that you feel strongly that the third mate in your life should be your equal. But I know little about your personality. You seem sometimes like two different men: the refined, proud aristocrat and the somewhat horny dragon.”

  “I will do my best to reveal my true nature to you in bits,” he said. “I suspect that our courtship will be the opposite to most: you’ve seen me naked already, and eventually you will grow to know and understand what lies beneath the surface.”

  “And you me, I hope,” said Lily. “Though I feel like I’m more of an open book than you are.”

  “I don’t think you are at all.” Graeme leaned forward. “You are a little mystery, Lilliana.” His aqua-coloured eyes looked into hers. There was something about them that was cold and warm at once; inviting her in while keeping her at bay. Shallow lines at their corners told Lily that he’d spent a good deal of his life smiling and laughing, and to her that was an excellent indication of character.

  “Ask me anything,” she said, “If you think I’m so mysterious.”

  “All right, I will. What do you value most in a man?”

  “Kindness. Generosity. Understanding. Goodness. Strength. Humour. Patience. Intellect,” she said. “So I’m not demanding, really.”

  Graeme laughed again. She was beginning to like the low rumble of his laughter; something in it reminded her of Rauth, whose chuckles were a rare treat.

  “Now let me ask you something,” she said.

  “Very well; it’s only right that you should.”

  “What do you value in a woman?”

  “Kindness, gentleness, independence. A keen wit and a beautiful face,” he said honestly, leaning further towards her. “Not to mention a body that turns into a fiery scaled creature and the ability to time-travel.”

  “Good to know that you’re not fussy, either.” Lily felt herself giving in to his charms, but she still had questions. It seemed too early to make a judgment call, to determine if this man was for her, though her déor seemed quite insistent that he was as she felt it poke around inside her, reminding her to pay attention.

  “Listen,” she said. “I want to know more, but first I’m going to find a toilet. I’ll try not to break it to pieces. Be right back.”

  She rose from the table and made her way to a narrow corridor at the back of the pub, which led to a spiral staircase with a sign that indicated that she’d find the bathrooms upstairs. She headed up, admiring the elegant and ancient wrought iron bannister and the old photographs that hung on the walls, of London architecture.

  When she’d finished her business, she left the small bathroom, recalling Graeme’s plumbing fiasco in her apartment with a chuckle.

  “Is something funny?”

  The voice was a man’s. She turned to her left to see a tall, thin male leaning against the wall by the men’s bathroom, as though he’d been waiting for her or someone else.

  “Excuse me?” she said.

  “You seem amused.”

  “It’s really none of your business if I am or not.” Lily felt her insides bristle, her dragon on high alert. Something wasn’t right about this guy. Those eyes…

  She began to descend the narrow staircase, moving away from the man as quickly as she could without actually running. But before she’d reached the bottom she heard his footsteps immediately behind her as he dashed down in hot pursuit.

  As she stepped onto the solid wooden floor she felt a tug on her hair, which he’d grabbed in a large handful and yanked backwards.

  “Ouch!” she let out, doing her best to act like an innocent young woman, annoyed at a stranger’s inappropriate advances. She must keep the dragon inside, she reminded herself.