ROMANCE: BIKER ROMANCE: Werewolf Rider (MC Shifter Pregnancy Romance) (New Adult Paranormal Romance Short Stories) (66 page)

Just as she'd begun to regret not calling Erin back and arranging a meet up, Parker heard him. Lysander's song was soft and crooning, so different than the usual, high energy punk he sang, but Parker recognized it well. There were a few tracks earlier in Sordid View's discography that were heartfelt and slow, and this rendition tore into her heart and left her vulnerable. The song escaped from beneath a door upon which was a loose leaf paper with the words "No Entry" written in sharpie by hand. Parker hesitated, then opened the door anyway.

At first, Parker did not see him. The room was filled with odds and ends, but most of it appeared to be assorted stage props to be borrowed by visiting bands or theater troops. As the door opened the song stopped, and Parker began to question if she'd actually heard it. Then Lysander turned his head.

He stood not far back amongst the oddities of the room, but it was fitting that he stood there, for Lysander himself was an oddity. As he turned back to look at her a set of wings flexed and narrowed against his back, protruding from either shoulder blade. Glinting black scales covered the forearm and fingers, and between them stretched a skin-like black webbing that reminded Parker somewhat of a bat. From the natural way they trembled and fidgeted, clinging to his back as though he longed them to disappear, she knew they were no prop. Parker stood in the doorway, eyes widened just slightly.

"So, I guess you can't read?" Lysander asked her, mild humor lacing his tone. "It said not to enter. So what are you doing here?"

He was shirtless, and as he turned to face her in full, Parker noticed how the full sleeve of tattoos he sported was gone. Lysander's flesh was untouched, but his body was just as gorgeous as it had always been in his photographs.

"You told me we'd go to the after party together," Parker mumbled, eyes still on the impressive set of wings he kept folded against his back. "Everyone's gone now. And... And what's going on with your back?"

Had she been paying closer attention, Parker would have seen the uneasy look that crossed Lysander's face. He sighed gently, closing his gorgeous green eyes for a moment.

"Close the door and come here," he told her. Although he spoke softly, Parker found she could not disobey him. Without resistance she closed the door and stepped forward. The closer she drew, the more she could make out the details of his body. Beneath his skin, scales shifted and struggled to burst free, as though the thin membrane above were a plastic bag strained with too heavy a load. His fingernails were thicker than normal and black, not from nail polish, but by virtue of their composition. The tips of them were sharpened into points, and she thought he might use them to tear into his own skin and release the struggling scales beneath. The green eyes she so fawned over had changed, too; the pupil in their centers was a thin vertical slit instead of round.

"Lysander," Parker murmured, feeling more uncertain with each step. "Is this a... A stage prop? A costume?"

She stood in front of him, close enough that he could draw her into his arms, and waited for a reply. Lysander hesitated. The man who stood before her was not the brash bad boy the media had made her feel she knew, nor was he the outspoken, carefree guy he made himself out to be. This side of Lysander was soft and introspective. Mature.

"What else did I tell you?" he asked. The question was strange, and Parker folded her arms across her chest with uncertainty.

"You said that you were going to take the time to give me what I deserved, since we only had time for a quickie before," she muttered, suddenly ashamed. "And that we'd go have fun at the after party together."

"Yeah." The shared in the shame. "That sounds like something I would do."

As she watched, the scaled beneath his skin began to fade from view as through retreating inside of him. The wings folded so tightly to his back began to withdraw, as though they were reeled back into his body like fishing line from the sea. The small claws she'd seen lost their thickness and became clear once more. Lysander's tattoos did not return.

"Did I tell you how pretty you are?" he asked. The back of his hand brushed across her cheek, and Parker found the strength to look up into his eyes. Just as the rest of him had, they'd regained their human appearance. In them twinkled something gentle and affectionate instead of hungry, and for that moment she felt like she was the only girl in the world who mattered to him.

"You did," she replied, "but... But not like that."

Lysander smiled, stepping forward and drawing her against his chest.

"Well, I think you're stunning. And if I had my way, I'd never leave you behind when we leave again on tour."

When their bodies met she felt the heat inside of him, as though a fire burned at his very core. Parker rested her head against his shoulder, considering all that she had seen and all that she had felt. Bizarre strength. Scales. Wings. Reptilian eyes. Claws.

"Are you a dragon?" she asked. "Is that what all of this is?"

Dragons weren't any more real than the tooth fairy, but there was no other explanation that she could think of to reason through his strange appearance.

"I am what's left of dragons," Lysander whispered to her, the words meant only for her ear. "One of the few that remain. And as ancient as I am, I know beauty when I see it. You are stunning, and tonight I will have you as mine."

This Lysander was a far cry from the one she'd coupled with during intermission. The feeling of being drowned in cotton returned, but this time the attraction between them felt genuine instead of lustful. Parker's heart warmed for him and the words he meant for her, and dragon or not, wild illusion or not, she knew she wanted him again.

The arms around her locked in place, and Parker found herself lifted from the floor and laid upon a chaise with a Victorian flair. The furniture, although a prop piece, supported her weight without issue. It was when Lysander joined her upon it, his heated body just as strangely solid as she'd remembered, that it began to groan in protest. Lysander did not stop.

There were similarities between the encounter and the last. Lysander dipped his head down and let his nose brush against hers, teasing her as their lips drew closer. Parker's eyelids drooped, then closed completely as his lips met hers. He directed them with firm affection and took his time, letting the kiss last and age into perfection. When their lips parted at last, Parker couldn't help but open her eyes to peek up at him. The Lysander that had laid her down upon the chaise was not the same man who'd taken her upon the couch. Softer, gentler, and more compassionate, he showed her a side to herself she'd never expected from a punk star.

It felt like an eternity passed where all he did was kiss her, and for as simple as it was, Parker's cheeks flushed with warmth and she felt herself grow wetter yet for him. All of the care that Lysander had failed to show her during intermission was made up for. When he did pull away, panting just slightly to catch his breath, she thought she might never want another lover for how wonderfully he treated her.

Without words he navigated her body, letting his hand slid down her side and to her jeans. The button of her fly opened, and the hand slipped inside to glide over the cotton fabric of her thong. Parker was drenched, and now he knew it. As the tempting pleasure of his hand slid between her legs, Parker arched her back and pressed up against him. Just as before, Lysander laughed. This time the laugh sounded like it rejoiced in her need instead of ridiculed it.

"You really find me attractive, don't you?" he asked. "The shirt you're wearing... That's from four years ago, when we were hardly more than a garage band. Have you been following me this whole time?"

"Yes," Parker whispered back. Talking seemed strange, as though the unsaid was much more important. There was a fire that burned inside of Lysander's soul that she was just beginning to discover, and she wanted to tend to it and add to its kindling until he lit up into a beautiful inferno of a man. "Almost since the beginning. I've waited so long to meet you."

Lysander did not smirk. The smile that spread his lips was far more satisfying, and it burned into Parker's memory, never to be forgotten.

"You're the kind of girl that makes all of this worth it," he whispered back. "You're just as invested in Sordid View as I am, and I can't thank you enough."

As they spoke she'd grinded against him, movements subtle but pleasing. Lysander hadn't been blind enough to miss them. Silence swallowed them. The jeans found their way down her body, but this time Lysander saw them all the way off. Then the thong, its crotch soaked with her heated secretions and the remnants of the mess Lysander had previously left inside of her.

"When I sing," he whispered, rising back up her body once she was naked from the waist down, "know that I sing for you."

A connection Parker couldn't rationalize had opened between them. In Lysander's eyes she saw the universe, so vast and unexplored. Secrets. Forgotten histories. Names and places lost to time. And then, a place they shared together, snug and comfortable. Home. When she raised her hands to undo his leather belt and part his fly, she knew that it was what he wanted. Their souls spoke to each other without words, and it was so beautiful that tears began to bead in the corner of her eyes.

Together they saw his pants to the ground. Since intermission he'd changed into a pair of briefs, and those, too, found their way from his body. The cock beneath was firm and ready for her, and Parker shifted beneath him to align their bodies for penetration. Lysander had fucked her before, but now he would make love to her and treat her to passions she'd never imagined would be hers.

Parker lifted her hips as Lysander lowered his, his hand guiding his hardened shaft for her entrance. When they joined the tears gathered in Parker's eyes slid down the sides of her face, and she exhaled sharply as he completed her. It wasn't just sex — this was something deeper. He'd said he'd never leave her, given the chance, and now Parker knew why. A feeling like this wasn't one anyone could just walk away from; it felt as though they shared souls, not just bodies.

When Lysander tucked his head between her shoulder and her neck and breathed out in delight, Parker held him there. Their bodies rode upon each other, delirious with delight. She could feel him working inside of her, pumping with need, and yet she felt strangely detached from the act. Lysander's soul, a flickering flame against the darkness, entwined with hers and ignited what had once been dull and unfulfilled. Parker choked out a cry. Eyes now open to the world, she burned with inspiration and life.

Lysander shot inside of her. Parker could feel his wet, heated seed lace her insides as well as she could feel the excitement and ecstasy of release that smoldered inside of him. The release meant nothing — he kept going. They grinded and squirmed, one against the other, as his cock grew flaccid and then hardened again. And once he was back to full mast, he moved into her with more determination than he had before. Soft groans had turned into choked gasps of pleasure, and Parker rode with him. Had she been able to, she would have made love with him all night on the chaise in the prop room. All night wasn't in the cards.

Before Lysander's next orgasm struck, she felt it building inside of him. Attuned with his soul, the delight he felt in her body was reflected back to her, and Parker drowned in along with him as he crossed the point of no return. A second load of cum, just as plentiful as the first, flooded her. As it did, Parker found her end. A rippling orgasm rose through her sex and sped her heart, and she gripped him tighter than before. Both bodies tensed, Parker took everything he had. When they calmed it was in unison, and Lysander settled down atop her and kissed her softly, as a real lover might.

"What was that feeling?" Parker whispered against his lips. Her eyes were lidded, body exhausted again.

"You danced with the soul of a dragon," Lysander whispered back, voice languid. In the aftermath of their shared passion, both partners were exhausted. Parker felt like he wanted to fall asleep alongside her. "Not everyone can. You have a rare soul."

Soft pride bloomed inside of her, and Parker grinned lazily.

"I don't want you to leave," she mumbled.

"And I don't want to, either," Lysander replied. "But I have a life on the road, and you—"

"Nikias," Lysander's voice called as the door to the room opened, "are you done putting shit away yet and getting yourself under control? Party's over and the bus is rolling out. We—"