Light Dragons 02 - The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

that I didn’t need any foreplay.
    “You are mine!” he growled as he plunged into me, making my muscles quiver with delight at the intrusion. Our brief time together had made me aware that dragons took their possessions very seriously, and that included mates, so I said nothing as he claimed me in the most fundamental way a man could. Not that I wanted to say anything, but the primitive, desperate need I felt in him to join with me was answered by my own desire, and it didn’t take either of us long before I was gasping his name, clutching the soft grass as he gave himself entirely to me.
    “Do you remember,” I said aeons later when I could do more than just lie in a quivering pool of postorgasmic rapture, “when I used to do this for you?”
    He looked down at where I knelt before him, helping him to get the thigh-high boots on. “Yes. Frequently it ended up in lovemaking because you insisted on taking me into your mouth, and that led to me reciprocating, and then I had to love you again, because you were always a demanding woman.”
    I bit his knee and started on the other leg. “Why do little snippets of my memories like that come through for me, but the big things, the things I really want to remember, are lost?”
    “You have not yet woken your dragon self. Once you do that, your memory will return.” He picked me up and carried me, naked since he hadn’t bothered to collect the bits of clothing I’d strewn for him, into the house. I prayed that Brom was fast asleep.
    “Why were you resurrected with your dragon fully awake, but I wasn’t?”
    “Questions, questions, always with you it is so many questions,” he said, climbing the stairs without even the least bit of panting. I kissed his neck.
    “Here’s a few more: how did you get ahead of me back in the woods and make it sound like you were behind me? Do you by any chance know how to hoot like an owl? And don’t tell me you can’t reveal all your secrets, because then I’ll lose interest in you, because we both know that’s not the least bit true.”
    He laughed, opened our bedroom door, and set me on my feet. “I will wash the dirt off my back,” was all he said as he headed for the shower in the attached bathroom.
    “That’s what you get for knocking me down.” I picked a few leaves from my hair. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you haven’t answered my questions, not that I really believe you can hoot like an owl, because that’s not at all your style, but still, you could tell me how you sounded like you were behind me and were really in front of me.”
    The sound of running water was my only answer. I climbed into bed, smoothing down the sheets, waiting until the water stopped. After a few minutes of silence, I glanced at the slightly open bathroom door. “Baltic? Are you there?”
    An owl hooted.
    From the bathroom.
    That rat!

Chapter Eleven
    “ A kashic League of Great Britain. How may I direct your call?”
    “I’d like to book the services of a Summoner, please. One who is familiar with dragons.”
    Brom, bearing a shovel and a plastic bag, marched past where I was sitting in the morning sun on the east patio, and disappeared into the shrubbery.
    “Er . . .” The woman on the other end of the phone was clearly taken aback by my request. “Dragons?”
    “Yes. Do you have someone who can summon a dragon spirit?”
    “I . . . I don’t know. I don’t think anyone has ever asked for a Summoner with dragon experience. They aren’t often raised as shades. In fact, I can’t ever think of the time one was. Perhaps it would be best if I transferred you over to booking.”
    Brom headed back into the house.
    I listened with impatience to the classical music provided by the Akashic League before a male voice greeted me. “Booking.”
    “I’d like to engage a Summoner, one with experience with dragons,” I said. “Can you hook me up with one? I’m just outside of London, but I’m willing to go anywhere in Europe to speak with her.”
    Brom wandered past with a large bucket, heading for the shrubs again.
    “Her?” the man said, suspicion dripping from the word.
    “Or him,” I said quickly. “I’m good with either gender, so long as the Summoner has experience with dragon ghosts.”
    “Dragon ghosts?” the man repeated, his voice taking on a weary tone. “Madame, you are aware, are you not, that there are several types of spirits?”
    “Well . . . not really. I mean, a ghost is a ghost is a ghost,