Big City (Collection).

Cynthia Sax.

Big City Dragon.

Big City Vampire.

Uptown Dragon.

Uptown Vampire.

Big City Wolf.

Cynthia Sax.

Dragons, vampires, and wolves -- Finding love in the Big City has never been this wild.

In Big City Dragon, Frey, a powerful dragon shifter, is prepared to fight to the death for his mate, Perla, a human female. In Big City Vampire, the vampire Vasile's greatest battle may be to convince his human mate that he's real. Oro, an arrogant yet handsome dragon shifter, is shocked to find out that Hailey, his destined mate, might not want him in Uptown Dragon. In Uptown Vampire, Russ, a vampire who has spent his lifespan pretending to be human, meets Vanna, a woman who believes she's destined to bond with a vampire. The Big City series concludes with Big City Wolf, a story about a pack princess and a lone wolf, two lovers reconnecting after having been torn apart for centuries.

Big City Dragon.

Cynthia Sax.

Perla is a normal human female. She is NOT a dragon. The scales on her skin are a trick of the light, her shrieks of outrage are due to extreme s.e.xual frustration, and many women need fire and flame play to enjoy s.e.x. All of her idiosyncrasies can be explained.

Frey is a dragon shifter. He has waited centuries for his mate, and he won't lose her to delusions of humanity or to a reckless golden rival. He fought for his territory, and he will fight to the death for his mate. No one messes with a dragon from the Bronx.

Chapter One.

"The Lair is the s.e.x club you're all excited about?" Carly shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing around her beautiful face. "Perla, we have a better chance of being f.u.c.ked by vampires than we do of getting in. Look at this line."

Perla did more than look. She stood stubbornly at the tail end of the line, right behind a huge, tattooed man getting a pre-party b.l.o.w.j.o.b from his anorexic date. The night air filled with moans and noisy slurps as the skinny woman-child kneeling before him sucked his fat c.o.c.k.

Perla noticed with satisfaction how similar the woman's black halter top and short leather skirt were to hers, except the brunette accessorized with silver, not gold. She scanned the ladies in the line. s.h.i.t. All of them had silver jewelry. She slipped the gold bangles off her wrist and hid them in her clutch purse.

"I'm not spending Friday night in some dark alley, waiting to get my a.s.s whipped by some dungeon master." Carly bent over to wipe a smudge off her shoes, and the obscenely short skirt of her crimson red dress pulled skyward, revealing the curve of her a.s.s cheeks.

"I want some of that!"

"I'd whip that a.s.s!" another man called out.

Her friend, accustomed to being admired, ignored them and straightened. "We should have made the trek to Manhattan."

"You know I don't feel safe there," Perla mumbled. She wanted, no, she needed to enter this club, although she didn't know why.

The tattooed man came noisily, his hips jerking forward. c.u.m dripped down the skinny woman's chin, the scent of s.e.x flavoring the air, and Perla's need increased.

"You don't feel safe in Manhattan?" Carly snorted. "Yet you feel safe in the Bronx. You make no sense."

How could she explain that the Bronx felt like home? She didn't understand it herself, but after a lifetime of wandering, the moment she'd stepped off the number 5 train she knew she was where she belonged, and she hadn't left the borough since. That was over three months ago.

"The h.e.l.l with this." Carly left the line and headed toward the metallic silver club doors.

Typical Carly. Perla followed, floating on heels so high she felt like she was flying. As she moved, the fragrance in the air deepened, warming to a tantalizing, smoky musk. His scent. She shivered with erotic delight.

"We should stand in line." That was what normal people did, and Perla was normal. She flexed her fingers. She was.

"Relax. I'm asking how long the wait will be." Carly tugged on her barely-there dress, lowering the already low neckline, her big b.r.e.a.s.t.s threatening to escape the body-clinging material. "Hey there, big boy," she purred, giving the bouncer a f.u.c.k-me smile.

The big man's dark, almost animalistic gaze skimmed over Carly and landed on Perla. He stared at her as though he saw within her very soul, unveiling all the oddities she couldn't tolerate in herself.

Strong, the judgmental voice inside her whispered. Perla returned his stare, lifting her chin defiantly, silently daring him to comment upon his findings.

The bouncer's lips twitched, and he bowed his head slightly. "ID," he growled, holding out one large paw to Perla.

No one, male or female, ignored Carly. She glanced at her friend. The beautiful blonde lifted her shoulders, her expression reflecting Perla's confusion.

Fine. She'd play along. Perla rummaged through her purse and gave the bouncer her driver's license. "We're not asking for special treatment." She wasn't special, or different, or at all unusual. She was normal. "Simply how long the wait will be."

"No wait for you, Mistress." He handed her driver's license back and turned to unhooked the black velvet rope behind him. "You're in." He batted the air with his big fingers.

"No f.u.c.kin' way!"

"We've been waiting for hours!" A wave of protests rose up from the line.

"They're on the VIP list," the bouncer explained, and he opened the door. When Perla didn't move, he raised his thick eyebrows.

He called her Mistress. Had she been mistaken for one of the s.e.x club's dominatrices? Perla frowned. "There must be some sort of mis --"

Carly pinched the sensitive skin at her elbow. "Yes. We're on the list. Thank you." Her friend pushed her forward. "Perla on the VIP list, who would have thunk it?" she whispered, taking her arm as they crossed the threshold, the door closing behind them. "Holy s.h.i.t." Her mouth fell open.

Holy s.h.i.t, indeed. The scene was erotic chaos. A giggling, naked woman ran past them, her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s bouncing, chased by three equally clothing-impaired men. A man was draped over a table, his rosy red a.s.s ravaged by the biggest c.o.c.k Perla had ever seen. The extremely hairy giant wielding the ma.s.sive c.o.c.k grunted as he thrust with a savagery that made her wince.

Another woman stood against a wall, her long legs spread, and her wrists and ankles bound, as a tall, leather-clad man whipped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, crisscrossing her dark skin with scarlet welts. She quivered and moaned with her eyes squeezed closed and her full lips glistening. A crowd of men watched, drinks in their hands, bulges in their pants.

"Hey there, beautiful." A tall stranger approached Carly. As she opened her mouth to respond, he kissed her, holding her face.

What the h.e.l.l? Perla stared at them, stunned and aroused. The scent of s.e.x and smoke and man swirled around her. Her p.u.s.s.y moistened, and she rubbed her thighs together in an attempt to ease her need.

"Ease it with me," a voice whispered in Perla's ear, and a large soft hand ran down her bare back.

She turned and looked up into a pale, handsome face, his refined features male model perfection, his blond hair swept back from his forehead. Weak. "Okay." She ignored her inner voice and placed her palms on his black jacket.

He smiled and bent his head. Weak! Perla cringed, forcing herself to raise her face, offering him her lips. He covered them, his mouth hard and cold, so very cold. He slipped his tongue into her mouth while he slid his hands over her a.s.s, cupping her leather-clad flesh, drawing her into him.

She shivered with cold and disgust. What was wrong with her? She clasped him tighter, grinding her mons against the hard ridge in his pants, searching for a physical response within herself. He was perfect for the fast, meaningless f.u.c.k she needed. Why didn't she feel anything?

A deafening roar rumbled through the club, drowning out the pounding tribal beats, and a wave of warmth rolled over her. His warmth. Perla pushed the man away, unable to tolerate his touch.

"Why you --"

An equally pale woman whispered in Perla's would-be lover's ear, her hand lowering to stroke his hard c.o.c.k. The man's red-rimmed eyes widened. "Mistress." He stepped back from Perla. "I didn't know."

"What --" But before she could ask the question, he was gone, disappearing into the throngs of gyrating people. Perla's frustration surged up her throat, escaping her lips in a screech. The light bulbs in the chandelier above them popped, showering them with gla.s.s. Bottles shook. Windows rattled.

"Perla, get a grip." Carly yanked on her arm. Terror was in her friend's eyes.

Perla clamped her mouth shut, cutting off the sound, and the clattering of gla.s.sware stopped. G.o.d. She had caused them to move, and she had scared her friend. Perla hugged her body. Oh, G.o.d. That wasn't normal.

"Christ, Perla. You really need to get laid, girl." Her friend's voice lilted with humor. "Come on. Let's get a seat."

Perla allowed Carly to lead her to a couch, the half-naked male occupants scurrying out of their way.

"Beautiful?"

Carly's liplock companion hovered near them. "Give me a couple of minutes alone with my friend, and then I'll f.u.c.k you," Carly promised. "And if you find a f.u.c.k buddy for my friend, I'll let you stick that big c.o.c.k into any hole you desire." She smiled.

The man's eyes lit up. "Your wish is my command." His gait was jaunty as he walked away from them.

"He's an a.s.s man for sure." Carly laughed. "Look at him hustle."

"As long as his friend isn't." Perla made a face. As long as he wasn't. She laid her head back, inhaling deeply. His scent. Her nipples tightened, arousal coiling around her.

"If he doesn't want your p.u.s.s.y, I'm sure one of the men around us will." Carly gazed directly at another tall, dark, handsome man. "A good, hard f.u.c.k will make you nice and relaxed." She blew her admirer a kiss. "And there'll be no more freaky deaky screaming."

Perla's face heated. "Sorry about --"

"My friend." Carly's lover-to-be slapped the shoulder of a man who could be his twin. The man grinned at Perla, displaying abnormally long canine teeth.

He was weak, but she forced a smile. Carly was right. She'd feel better after being f.u.c.ked, and she couldn't wait for a mystery man who might or might not exist. "f.u.c.k me." She let her knees fall open in invitation.

"h.e.l.l, yeah." The man stripped off his shirt, revealing a pale and hairless chest, and he dove down, covering Perla, his body heavy, his hips wedged between her legs.

She turned her head, denying him her lips. He sucked on her neck instead, his mouth cold and unappealing, his teeth grazing her skin. "f.u.c.k me fast and hard." She closed her eyes, gripping him to her, his skin soft under her fingertips. The sooner this was over, the better.

"Anything you like, princess."

Princess? Really? G.o.d. She wished he wouldn't talk. His fingertips skimmed along the inside of her thigh, leaving a trail of coolness, and her irritation flowed into anger. "Let me do that." Perla brushed his hand away. "You take care of yourself." She slipped her G-string off. The less touching he did, the better.

She stroked her p.u.s.s.y, drawing blessed heat and wetness, as she watched her best friend get the a.s.s f.u.c.king of her life. Carly was laid over the arm of the couch, her a.s.s in the air, her man of the evening pounding into her. Perla pumped herself harder and faster, imagining that long, pale c.o.c.k plunging in and out of her.

"Mine's bigger, princess."

Perla looked. Mistake. His c.o.c.k was big, but it wasn't the c.o.c.k she longed for, and her pa.s.sion fizzled. "I can't." She avoided the man's gaze. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"You..." he sputtered, as Carly's lover bellowed his satisfaction. "You little c.o.c.k tease!" He grabbed Perla's wrists and squeezed, the bones bending in his grip. "Do you know who I am?" He stretched her arms above her head.

He dared to touch her? Rage overwhelmed Perla's thinking, flames licking at the perimeter of her vision. "No!" The gla.s.ses on the table shattered. "Do you know who I am?" She wrenched her hands free and walloped him across his handsome face, leaving a gouge in his cheek. "Get away from me!"

"What the h.e.l.l?" He scrambled backward, gazing at her with horror.

Okay. That definitely was not normal. Her gaze dropped to her hands. She had talons and blue scales. She tucked her hands under her a.s.s, hiding them. Oh, G.o.d. What was happening to her?

"Oh, dear." A tiny, green-haired waitress appeared by the man's side, her face darkened with concern. "A piece of gla.s.s must have cut you." She pressed a white square of fabric to his wound. "Mistress, are you okay?"

No. She was not okay. She hadn't been okay for months. "I'm fine."

"Good." The waitress gave her a saucy grin, a silver piercing sparkling in her bottom lip. "Then you come with me, sir." She wrapped her arm around his. "We'll get you bandaged up."

The man looked over his shoulder at Perla. "It wasn't --"

"It was," the waitress repeated.

Perla watched them until they disappeared into the crowd. It was the gla.s.s. That was the explanation. She looked at her hand. It was a normal woman's hand. She didn't have talons. That must have been a trick of the light. She hadn't cut him. It was the gla.s.s.

She glanced at Carly. Her friend hadn't paid attention to the altercation. Another man, even paler than the last lover, pumped between Carly's spread legs, shaking her body, jiggling her large b.r.e.a.s.t.s while she panted, her mouth wide open. Rivulets of perspiration dripped down his bare back.

He'd be warm. Perla's s.e.xual frustration returned.

A third man stood, his legs braced apart, waiting his turn. His fist clasped the base of his latex-covered c.o.c.k, his tip blue and broad. Perla met his red-tinged gaze. He raised one golden eyebrow.

Perla shook her head. She didn't want his c.o.c.k. She stared up at the dark ceiling. But she wanted. She wanted. She gritted her teeth, the need painfully intense. Another wave of heat rolled over her, and the black pillar candles on the table burst into flame, captivating Perla's attention. That smell. She breathed in. His. She leaned forward.

While men and women groaned their satisfaction around her, Perla stared into the stretching fire, calmness layering over her. The blond man grunted as he thrust between her friend's trembling thighs, but she ignored the rutting couple. Instead, Perla waved her fingers over the wick, savoring the warmth and marveling at the tiny blue scales covering her skin.

It was a trick of the light again, because humans didn't have scales. She laid her palm over the flame, watching the intricate pattern spread. Humans felt pain, not comfort, when burned. What explanation -- "For you, Mistress." The tiny green-haired waitress had returned. "From the Master." She set a shot gla.s.s of thick white liquid before her, gla.s.s clinking against the table top.

"The Master?" Perla glanced around her. Weak. Weak. Weak. She dismissed the men circling them. Where was he? Who was he?

"He has to take care of some business, but he'll be with you soon." The waitress glanced down at the drink and then back up at her. Her green eyes sparkled.

She expected her to drink it right away. Perla sighed and picked up the gla.s.s. It was warm and smelled like him. She tossed it back. The liquid burned. Oh, baby. It tasted like the sweetest, hottest c.u.m, spurted straight out of a thick, long c.o.c.k.

Then the drink hit her stomach, and her world exploded. She arched, her p.u.s.s.y clenching down on the imaginary shaft her brain was certain filled her. A shudder of the most exquisite pleasure shook her entire body. She might have screamed, because the shot gla.s.s exploded in her hands, the shards bouncing off her scale-covered skin.