Michael peeked up at the noise coming from the door. It had been the first sign of life in this hellhole since he had been chained to the wall days ago. Maybe someone was coming to let him out. Or even just give him a drink. God, he was thirsty. It didn’t help that he could see a small trickle of water sliding down from a grate to pool just a few feet away. Tucking away from his needs, he readied himself for some kind of action. He’d been through extensive training to deal with stuff like this. There were hundreds of things he could think of to help him escape; he just needed an opportunity.
The light from the hall cut a square across the darkness of the dungeon as the door swung open. Squinting against the burning glare, Michael watched as his captor threw something large inside. Without a word, they slammed the door and left. “Well, that went well,” Michael scoffed to himself. At least now he would have something to look at as he died of dehydration in a damp cell. Why they hadn’t just killed him outright was beyond him.
In the thin light from the small, grated window, Michael’s eyes searched the bundle that had been left. Was it something he could use to escape? It looked to be a wad or roll of some kind of fabric. Pulling against his chains, he tried to get closer, but his captors hadn’t left him very much wiggle room. In fact, they hadn’t left him enough chain to even sit down. If he stretched himself out, the toe of his right boot just touched the edge of the fabric. He tried to scrape it closer, but whatever was wrapped up in the bundle was damned heavy.
He had started to succeed in pulling some of the fabric loose when the bundle shifted. Michael froze as hope slammed into his heart. Could it be? Was there someone inside that bundle? His eyes reevaluated the mass. It could be the right size for a person, if they were small.
“Hey.” Michael’s voice cracked as he called to the bundle. He pulled against his chains harder and tried to poke it with his foot. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Hey.” This time the bundle definitely moved. Michael stood back against his wall and watched as the cloth shifted. A split opened up, and a pair of delicate hands slipped free. His heart soared as the material pulled back and a woman rolled out.
She was the most exquisite creature Michael had ever seen. It wasn’t the dainty curls or the soft glow of her skin that made his breath catch, it was the possibilities she offered. His entire continued existence rested in her hopefully kind hands.
She let out a gasp of air and raised one of those delicate hands to her temple. Pain raced across her face as she curled onto her side, gasping.
“Are you all right?’ Michael asked, pulling against his chains. Mentally, he kicked himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Of course she was not all right. He could see the pain racking her body as she wheezed. He wanted to rush to her and comfort her. If he could just get out of these damned manacles. Racking his brain, he tried to think of a way to help her. The men who had captured him had taken his jacket and guns, but had they emptied out his pockets? He shifted against the wall, searching, hoping it was still there. “Hey,” he called to her again.
She lifted pain-filled eyes to him.
He shifted to show her the bulge on the side of his leg. “There’s a medic kit in my pocket.” It was only standard issue, but there was a dose of morphine in it.
The woman studied him for a moment before another wave of pain lanced through her. It took her a few minutes of deep breathing before she could unroll again.
Michael’s breath caught again as she pushed out of the material wrapping her. He had been right; she was the most exquisite creature he had ever seen, but this time, it wasn’t her potential he noticed.
The gold and bronze of a sleeveless ball gown hugged her shapely frame as she forced herself part of the way up from the floor. Her porcelain skin was flush with pain, but even that didn’t distract from her beauty. Unable to find her balance to stand, she crawled over and flopped down next to him. She pressed her back into the cold, stone wall and looked up at Michael. He could see the question in her eyes.
He nodded at his pocket. “There are painkillers in the kit.”
She studied him again before reaching up and pulling the nylon pouch free. Rummaging through it, she found the pills and swallowed them down without the aid of water. After a few more deep breaths, she leaned her head over and rested it against the side of his leg.
God, she felt good. Her heat seeped through the canvas of Michael’s pants, warming him. Tilting his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and waited. The morphine would kick in soon to ease her pain, but she would probably pass out from it. That meant a few more hours until he could get that drink he so desperately needed. Rubbing his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he tried to work up some saliva to tide him over. He turned his mind to the woman resting against his leg.
Who was she? Overall, she was rather rumpled from her trip, but she was still amazing. Her golden hair was braided and wrapped up in an elegant twist on the back of her head. Little wisps of hair curled gently around her shapely face, softening her lines. She seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place her. She must be someone famous. Maybe an actress or singer. He shook the thought away. This group wouldn’t grab someone like that. They were set on power plays and money. She was more likely the wife of a politician or the head of some state. That would explain the recognition. He’d probably seen her at one of the many events where his group served as security. He closed his eyes and tried to pull up her identity. If he just pushed, he could do it.
Movement from his side pulled Michael from his thoughts. The woman had shifted away from his leg towards the pool of water. His dry lips parted as she dipped her fingers into its silvery surface. He could just taste the water she had cupped in her hand. The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lip as she raised her hand to her mouth and tentatively drew in that life-giving liquid. His heart sank as she spit it back out, coughing. God, there had to be something wrong with it. Michael let out a defeated sigh and hung his head. He would die hanging on a wall, just feet away from help. Maybe it just tasted bad. Hell, right now he didn’t care if it was sewage, he desperately needed liquid.
The warm tingle of magic tickled across his skin, drawing his eyes back to the woman. Her fingers rested on the surface of the pool, drawing runes in the liquid. Michael’s eyes widened. If she knew magic, they might have a chance. He watched in silence as she finished her spell before lifting another handful of water to her mouth. This one met with her approval. To Michael’s surprise, the woman bent her face to the water and sucked up a great mouthful. Oh, how he would love to do that! He looked around for something she could use to bring him some. Maybe if she tore off a piece of the material she had been wrapped in, she could soak some up. That would just be heavenly.
The woman stood up from the pool and turned to Michael. Even though it had only been a short time since she’d taken the drugs, she looked a lot better. His eyes darted to the water. What was the best way to ask for the help he needed? To his surprise, the woman stepped close and looked into his eyes. Her amber eyes shone with compassion, and his mind relaxed. Somehow, he knew that she wouldn’t let him die chained to that wall. His eyes fell to her perfect mouth. A bead of water clung to the corner, and the desire to lick it up overwhelmed him. Sure, those rosy lips, just slightly puckered, would make her mouth absolutely kissable, but it was the promise of moisture that made him lean forwards with the desperation of a dying man.
It was pure heaven when she placed her hands on his chest and rose up to meet him. The softness of her lips on his eased the cracked skin. Her wet tongue slid across his mouth, and he opened for her. A gush of warm water flowed into his mouth, and he clamped his lips to hers so not a drop could escape. Pure ecstasy washed through him with that first sip. Shuddering, Michael swallowed what she offered. Honeyed wine could never taste as good as her mouth and that water. Desire shot through him, and he could feel himself stiffen as she pulled away. The woman let out a little puff of air, like a silent laugh, as she turned awa
y to get him more water.
Michael’s eyes dropped to the front of his pants. How was it possible to get a hard-on when he was so dehydrated? He was still fully dressed in black cargo pants and a T-shirt, and they were, so far, still hiding his growing arousal. But that laugh made him think she knew what had passed through his mind. His eyes traced the gentle curve of her backside as she bent to draw up more water. God, how he wanted out of those manacles! To be able to lift the folds of her skirt up, exposing more of that pale skin. To feel her warmth and wetness as he pushed into her. Michael shook his head hard, trying to dislodge the image that had settled into his brain. How could he be thinking of her like that? For God’s sake, he had just met the woman. She was giving him water, not making out with him.
Michael nearly died when she pressed her mouth to his for that second drink. He pulled against his chains with the desire to hold her. To explore that wonderful mouth. Would her skin be as soft as her lips? Would she fit against him? Would the rest of her taste as good as her lips? He ached to find out. She pulled away, leaving him bereaved for her touch. Gasping for air, he hung from his chains. A note of concern filtered into his lust-laden thoughts. What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t him. Sure, he fantasized about beautiful women, like any man, but it never went this far. When she came back with the third mouthful, he rounded up his scattered wits and pulled away from her.
“What are you doing to me?” He gasped.
Her eyes filled with a compassionate sorrow, and she made a sign with her hand. A sign that the entire world had learned almost two decades ago: dragon.
His mind clicked into gear. That explained everything. The magic, his hormonal response, and why this group would kidnap her. She was a dragon. Giving in to his uncontrollable urges, he pressed back to her lips to claim her gift. No human stood a chance against a dragon; the pheromones they put out could send even the Pope into a mating rut. Hell, the stuff was currently making the rounds as the latest designer date-rape drug. It was fast, effective, left no side effects, and was hard to prove in court. It was ironic that he would be caught in this potent chemical’s clutches. He had been working to stop the organization producing it before being captured. He shivered again as she released his lips. This was going to make things hard, both literally and figuratively.
Normally, dragons didn’t put out a significant amount of the chemicals to bother people casually, it had to be harvested and refined to be used as a drug, but a dragon could pass it on intimately with the same effects. He was probably getting a significant dose along with the water from her mouth. Had he known she was a dragon, he would never have let her feed him water that way. His boss was a dragon, and Michael had seen how uncontrollable women got after he kissed them. It was most definitely a good thing that his hands were chained above his head. Sure, he was going to have one hell of a case of blue balls, but at least she would be safe from him. The problem would come when they tried to escape.
Given several days and a few good hand jobs, he could work the pheromones out of his system, but did they have the time? Now that she was here, their captors would have to act. There was no way they could leave a dragon with magic in a cell. Even if they warded the area, it was only a matter of time until they got free. The problem would be him. When she did get him free of his cuffs, he would probably fall on her like a satyr among nymphs. He had seen it happen with others. It was not something he wanted to subject her to. She would probably understand, most dragons under those circumstances did, but he would hate himself for it.
Anguish rode Michael right along with the lust as she pressed into him with another mouthful of water. He needed this—without the water, his death was almost certain—but knowing that his response was chemically induced didn’t ease the guilt plucking at him.
This mouthful slid bitterly across his tongue as he worshiped at her lips. The liquid burned his throat, leaving him gasping as she pulled away. Something was definitely different about that sip. He tracked the heat as it slid down and bottomed out in his stomach. She reached up and touched his cheek, pulling his gaze to her. Shock filled him as their eyes met. Apology shone clearly in her face as his stomach clenched in pain. Groaning, he tried to curl up as his insides began to boil. He barely noticed when she leaned into him, pressing his back to the wall and taking his weight from the manacles. God, what had she done to him?
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