Lani Kalann Jaran is a Nightflyer, a dragon at night and a human during the day. Until her true mate, a sunflyer, claims her, Lani is bound by dragon magic to shift with the sunrise and the sunset.
Ryce Ayard is a sunflyer, a dragon during the day and a human at night. For years Ryce has searched for his true mate, the one who will ignite a fire in his dragon's heart. Lani is the one and together they must break the spell that keeps them apart.
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Excerpt for Nightflyer
Ryce Ayard stretched out on his bed and looked up. Through the skylight the night sky was clear, ink black and awash with stars, but he was too tired to appreciate it. Convinced he was on the verge of the greatest discovery of his career as a treasure hunter, Ryce dove each day in the blue Caribbean waters, searching for the wreck of the St. Lucia. Day after day, he returned to his island home exhausted, but knowing he'd be awake well before dawn and in the water again at sunrise.
Perhaps tonight he was too tired to dream. That would be a shame. He looked forward to his nocturnal visitor and had left the French doors open so as not to discourage her.
Ryce closed his eyes and listened to the waves gently lapping against the sand, the endless sound lulling him to sleep.
He sensed her presence. The scent of her floral perfume made him aware she'd come to him once again. She floated through the French door, toward the bed, her feet never touching the floor. The soft, tropical breeze lifted her long, dark hair. Her lithe woman's body was silhouetted by an orange sun hovering just above the horizon and poised to slip into the sea. When she came, she brought the sunset.
Ryce wanted to see her face, look into her eyes, but her face remained in shadow, her features indistinct.
She'd been coming for over a week now, each visit more erotic than the last. Ryce never wanted the dreams to end.
She knelt beside him, leaning down to brush her lips to his. The kiss was brief and feather-soft.
"Who are you?"
He wanted to know her name, but she never answered.
Perfume, exotically floral, filled his nostrils. Skin, softer than silk, brushed against his. Strands of long, dark hair tickled his face and clung to the dew of perspiration on his chest. Fingers, long and tipped with nails, traced a slow pattern down his torso and over his damp belly.
Then she touched him...