Dragon horns are erogenous zones. I learned that the first time I touched his.
I was just trying to play a song.
One duet in a music store, and I accidentally triggered a golden dragon's feral transformation—and turned him into a soul-hungry beast obsessed with me. Now he's stuck in his monstrous form, and the only thing that brings him back is my touch.
Specifically: his horns.
More specifically: the way I make him feel when I really let go.
The creatures that attacked him—Fate hounds—aren't finished. They're hunting others now. His bandmates are next, and the only way to save them might be the same way I saved him.
By bonding.
By giving in.
By making them mine.
But I was born without a soul. Girls like me aren't supposed to have soulmates—let alone five.
So why do all of them look at me like I'm the one thing they've been waiting for?