Evanne Lorraine
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Dragons’ Mate, Demons and Dragons III

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What could possibly be better than one dragon? Two fierce, protective, dominant dragon males. Unless you happen to be a damaged female terrified of restraints.
Arya doesn’t even know her own name when Winstor and Suluth rescue her from a grubby cage in the back of capture fantasy club. The kings’ declaration of insta love would thrill her, if there was a chance in the seven hells she was truly their mate. Sadly, the delicious males have to be delusional since she’s not even a dragon, let alone their perfect match.


“Roast pork, if it’s not too much trouble.” She turned back, keeping her beautiful face averted.
His dragon stirred and preened. She didn’t turn away from me.
Only because she’s petrified with fear.
He mentally snorted. Arguing with himself never accomplished anything useful except to convince the vain beast he was right.
“You heard her,” he told the Bronsor.
“Dinner for three, sire?” Strawn asked.
“Might as well.” Winstor won’t stay away for long. “Is there any of Mignonette’s ice-cream—the one with fudge and caramel around?”
“I believe so, sire.”
“Good, we’ll have it for dessert.” It’s almost as sweet as the terrified little dragon.
Her musical voice, asking so shyly for what she wanted, still echoed in his mind, caressing his keen ears as he tugged on boots and pulled the loose top over his head.
“It’s safe to turn around.” He waited, yearning for her to speak again.
“I suppose women go wild for you when you walk the causeways.” She was acting brave, but the quaver in her voice spoiled the illusion, besides his dragon senses worked fine in skin and her fear was nipping his sensitive nostrils.
“Women other than you?” he prodded.
She blushed, enchanting him.
“No, I’m not immune to your blatant charms.” She answered with endearing candor, but her interest wasn’t enough to quell her terror and that burned his ass.
“You like what you see then?” He pushed a little more, not entirely sure why he needed added confirmation when he easily read her truth markers.
“Of course, you’re magnificent, sparky,”
“As are you, little one.” He captured one a soft hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the petal-soft skin on the back.
“Don’t patronize me. I know what I look like.” She jerked her arm away, delicate brows pleated into an adorable frown.
Apparently you have no fucking clue.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen a mirror?”
“Like most of my life, I don’t remember,” she said tartly.
Frustration beat the seven levels of hell out of her being terrorized half to death.
I don’t get it. Why is she more scared of me in human form? Can’t she sense I’d take on the known universe to defend her? Demonshit, she can’t connect with her dragon at all and the Baldorean bastards are technically human. No wonder she’s frightened. I damn near killed her in scales and as a man I need to earn her trust from ground zero.
“Why sparky?” he asked.
“You’re a fire boy, right?”
Been a few centuries since anyone called me a boy. “I’m definitely all about bringing the heat.”
“So there you go. Slick is smooth—a water guy and you’re hot.”
“I’m glad you think so, little one.” He gave her his best smoldering look and watched an enchanting blush bring some color to her gaunt face.

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