Page 12 of Dragon Rivals of New York (Dragons of New York #3)

Chapter 12

Sora

“ T his isn’t my apartment.” I yawn sleepily and rub my eyes, piecing together what happened. I’m still in Kyro’s arms and on Jethro’s back. Cool air hits one side of my body. The sky has a pale tint to it that lets me know it’s nearly morning. We’re on the patio of Jethro’s penthouse.

Kyro holds me as he slides off the other dragon’s back, and Jethro shifts back into his human form. Too tired to filter myself, I stare freely. He shifts everything but his cock back to normal, letting that dragon appendage stay on display a breath longer than the rest of him.

I lick my lips. Not feeling exhausted any more. That’s for sure.

Looking up, I find Kyro’s eyes burning with that strange flame dragons get in the middle of their pupils.

“Feeling better?” His voice is husky and even deeper than normal.

“So much better.” I wiggle, letting him know I’m ready to get down, but he just tightens his hold. Alright, he doesn’t have to let me go for what I have in mind. “Kiss me.”

His lips are warm and soft, but the kiss is rough, full of tension and need. I adjust my position, pulling myself up and wrapping my legs around his torso, very aware of how naked we both are. He palms my ass as we kiss, and I moan into his mouth.

Just as I feel Jethro’s warmth behind me, Kyro breaks away.

“We need to clean you up.” He drops his forehead to mine, voice reticent.

“I’m fine.” Well, my feet and a few other places sting, scratched up from my run in the woods. But nothing hurts too badly.

“Kyro’s right.” Jethro rubs my back. “Let me draw you a bath.”

“Fuck,” Kyro mutters.

“What?” I ask.

“For a second I forgot we were at Jethro’s.” There’s a bitter bite to the name.

“Better make yourself at home here,” Jethro says. “It’ll be your place too once we all enter the pools together.”

“Fuck that.” Kyro squeezes me a little tighter. “We don’t even know if three people can enter the pools together.”

“Don’t know unless you try.” Jethro playfully slaps Kyro’s hip.

Kyro growls and steps away.

“I haven’t actually agreed to… mate either of you,” I say.

Mate. Such a primal word. Less civilized than wife. Less casual than girlfriend or fiancee. And with a deeply seated connotation of procreation. A mate isn’t a woman in her own right. A mate is a womb to bear your young.

The room is quietly loud. Loud with heavy breaths and deep frowns. Loud with uncertainty and hurt. Maybe even fear. I don’t want to hurt them. I really, really don’t. But… mate? Yeah, no.

I wish there wasn’t so much riding on this decision. I wish my choice one way or the other didn’t have consequences for them. But I guess every choice has consequences. We’re all too connected to not affect each other with our decisions.

But why does it always feel like it’s my needs or the other person’s? Always at odds .

If I honor myself by not rushing into a relationship—a throuple, no less—then I’m hurting them and being selfish. But if I choose to be with them, I’m setting aside the commitment I made to myself when I got divorced, I’m ignoring what I need, and swallowing my priorities for another again. How do I know that once we “mate” they won’t turn out just like Manny? Demeaning, demanding, abusive.

“I should go,” Kyro finally says. He looks at Jethro. “Take care of her. Make sure she gets bandaged up and gets some sleep. I’ll pick her up here Monday morning.”

“Pick me up for what?” Not that I’ve decided I’m going to stay here yet.

“It’s my day.” Kyro changes to a dragon in a blink, much faster than last time, and lifts into the air.

“What did he mean?”

“He wanted to divide up the days this week,” Jethro’s sigh lets me know he was not in favor of this idea. “We each get three days to convince you to choose us.”

“I don’t want to choose between you.”

“I know, lovely. And you shouldn’t have to, not when the goddess gave you to both of us.”

“Gave me? As if I have no agency in the matter? No say? As if I’m nothing but property, a womb to be handed over and filled?”

“No, no.” Jethro’s palms go up as if I have a gun aimed at him.

I do feel pretty murderous. I’m not sure where it came from so suddenly, but I’m exhausted, overwhelmed, tired of the fucking patriarchal thinking that apparently permeates dragon culture just as much as human culture, even if they ascribe it to a goddess.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Jethro says. “I only meant that I see you as a gift. And I know Kyro does too. Not a gift we deserve or earned, just knowing you is a gift. Whether or not you choose us.”

My shoulders drop, a little of the tension seeping out. “I don’t want to be backed into a corner.”

“I know, lovely, I know.” With slow, intentional movements, he wraps me in his arms. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. Just let us show you that it doesn’t have to be how it was with your ex.”

I nod, unable to speak.

He pulls back, giving me a soft smile. “Let me draw you a bath.”

I return his smile, but the weight of the decision I need to make pulls down the edges. He picks me up and carries me upstairs.

At the end of the wide hall, there’s a set of massive double doors, half open. He kicks one of them to the side, sending it banging against the wall as he brings me into a bedroom that feels entirely appropriate for the man holding me.

The one time we were intimate was at my house, and despite having been to his apartment since then with Finley and Cyrus, this is the first time I’ve been in his room.

It’s a stunning mix of styles and textures. Modern floor to ceiling sliding doors cover one wall, allowing me to see a view of the sun rising over the city. Delicate florals decorate the ceiling, and a gold chandelier hangs over the bed, which has to be custom made. It’s big enough for at least five people. I wonder if he sometimes sleeps in his dragon form. It’s covered in a dark comforter that looks incredibly soft, with an intricately woven blanket neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Plush elegant rugs line the floor, giving the room a little touch of a bohemian chic feel. None of it should go together, but somehow it works.

Oh, and there are bars of gold stacked neatly along one wall.

I raise my eyebrows and he shrugs. “Dragons like to horde our treasure. It’s an innate instinct.”

“Why gold? ”

He smirks. “Loyalty.”

I wonder if Kyro has bars of silver in his room.

Jethro carries me through the room to a bathroom that’s almost as large as the bedroom, with a walk-in shower bigger than I thought possible. It takes up half the room with nozzles on three sides. The bathtub is so big it’s basically a jacuzzi.

I can’t help but ask, “Do you bathe in your dragon form?”

“Sometimes.” His lips twitch. “And sometimes I just like having space for more people.”

A surge of anger punches through me at the thought of him showering with anyone other than me, but it dissipates once I see the hunger in his eyes. He’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the world, like he wants to worship every inch of me.

I wonder if he realizes how inexperienced I am compared to him. All he knows about me is that I had a messy divorce and spent the last year having one-night stands, and not even that many of them.

He sets me on the counter, then turns the faucet on to fill the tub. A generous pour of bubble bath and a bath bomb later, he returns to me. His gaze skims my body, but it’s less heated than before. More assessing. Looking down, I notice the shallow cuts along my legs. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll decide what’s fine and what’s not.” He takes a bottle of antiseptic and a bag of cotton balls from the medicine cabinet. “I’ll feel better when you’re a dragon and can heal faster.”

I wince as he dabs one of the deeper cuts. His touch is gentle as he cleans each scratch and kisses each bruise. There aren’t a lot of them, which is surprising for as rough as they were. But I get the impression that the two men were very aware of what they were doing and how much damage it might cause. They both have a protectiveness toward me I’ve never experienced before.

Manny was never rough. But he also never cared much when I got hurt. In ten years together, he never once cleaned a cut or removed a splinter for me.

Jethro does both with patience and a clinical professionalism that surprises me considering we’re both still naked. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him flaccid. I guess he doesn’t have a sadist kink, which is good. Blood play isn’t something I’ve ever wanted to experience. I didn’t even know it was a thing until reading romance, but I figured out pretty quickly it wasn’t for me.

A little rough and tumble in the woods, though? Definitely for me.

When he’s done, he kisses the inside of my knee, then carries me to the full, steaming bath. He climbs in, still holding me, and sits down with me in his lap. The hot water feels like heaven on my aching muscles.

“Dip down, lovely. I’m going to wash your hair.”

“I can do it.” He’s already done too much for me tonight.

“I know you can, but I want to.” He gently eases me back into the water. Picking out a few small sticks and leaves as he works his fingers through my hair.

“No one’s washed my hair for me since I was a child.”

“Not even your husband?”

I shake my head and give a small chuckle. It feels almost impossible to imagine Manny washing my hair, and I never would have asked him to. Honestly, it never crossed my mind. But it feels amazing.

Jethro massages my scalp with a tender touch. It’s intimate and sensual without being sexual, though I’m sure things could shift that direction easily.

Jethro helps me sit back up and lathers shampoo into my long hair. “Your ex was missing out.”

He digs his fingers in a little more, and I close my eyes, letting myself enjoy his touch. Savor it while I can.