Shifting Heat

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: SHIFTING HEAT

Copyright © LYNNE CONNOLLY, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

One downsweep of his wings brought him into contact with the air currents and he left STORM behind, surging through the air. Like swimming but better, without the resistance of water. After a few powerful thrusts, he allowed himself to drift lazily in the direction of Central Park.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No time like the present.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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