With a sigh, she sank deeper into the soft couch, imagining his hands and lips on her skin, and her fingers snaked their way to her pussy.
She closed her eyes again, one hand drifting to the outside edge of the illustration. “Ouch! Damn it!” Her eyes snapped open. “What the—?”
Blood welled from a papercut and dripped onto the parchment.
“Shit!” Hannah yanked her hand back, bringing her finger to her mouth. “Damn,” she mumbled.
She sat up and swung her legs to the edge of the couch, her body still humming with slight arousal.
Thwack!
Her eyes jerked to the glass ceiling, her arm flying up to shield against splintered glass. She squinted into the sun, shocked as an injured gull flew headlong into the greenhouse from the shattered pane.
“Shoo!” Hannah got up with the open book in hand. “Get out!” She flapped the book at the scared bird, watching it frantically wing around the glass interior.
“Don’t you break another window, you blind ass bird! I can’t afford the repairs! Go out the way you came!”
Hackles high, her cat hissed, tracking the frightened bird.
“Tigger, no! Bad cat!”
With a high-pitched screech, the tabby took off, chasing the bird through the yard.
“Great. Just great.”
Hannah pivoted on her heel, rushing to close the sliding doors before Tigger moved his citified version of wild kingdom into the house.
Thud!
Breath rushed from her lungs as she hit the slate. Pain vibrated from her forearms into her shoulders and back, as fiery stings bit into her skin from the broken shards. The book landed beneath her, wedged between her arm and her chest as she hit the ground.
“Great,” she muttered, pulling herself to all fours. She sat back on her heels, wiping crimson streaks onto her robe.
Bright sun streamed through the broken pane, cutting the muted light like a knife. It felt good on her sore shoulders, but it also lit up the mess she left on the manuscript.
The cuts on her arms and knees throbbed, but it was the blood smears on the book that hurt the most.
“Ugh. A rare tome ruined because of a GPS-impaired bird and my mangy cat. Of course, my drunken masturbating didn’t help.”
Annoyed, Hannah blew her hair from her forehead and winced getting to her feet. “Calm down. You can do this. Dried blood is brown. You have the tools to smooth the blemish into the book’s patina at work. An appraiser will never know the difference.”
Frowning, she watched the large, bloody splotch soak further into the dried paper, its uneven edges diffusing oddly into dark, spidery lines.
“Or maybe not.”
With an irritated tug, she shrugged her bloodstained robe from her body and dropped it on the chaise. She stalked toward the kitchen for antiseptic and gauze, before rummaging in the laundry room for a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweats, finding nothing but a skimpy camisole and a thong.
“Note to self. Horny librarians and hot pics of ancient penis pumpers do not mix.”
Grabbing the stain remover spray from the laundry counter, she carried everything back through the sliders, her arms and knees glistening with triple antibiotic ointment.
“Neither does white terrycloth and blood.” Hannah blinked, her hand freezing mid-reach for her robe.
Robe forgotten, Hannah turned her full attention to the ancient book, and the fact its parchment was blank. No blood smears. No ancient porn. Nothing. It was as devoid of writing and artwork as the day the book’s pages were handstitched.
“Can’t be.” Hannah picked her way across the shard-covered slate, her breath stilling in her chest.
She bent to lift the volume, running her hand over the blank spread. “No fertility god, either,” she murmured.
Tigger’s hiss broke her trance, and she turned expecting another scene out of the movie, The Birds, only to watch her cat winding his way between two bare feet.
Her gaze traveled upward from there, skimming well-defined calves and powerful thighs before stopping crotch-level at a package that rivaled the one in the missing illustration.
Wide eyes shot to the man’s face and a scream formed in her throat.
“My hips await your tightly wrapped legs. I am yours to ride bow-legged.”
“Holy SHIT!”
Hannah’s wide eyes bugged even more, and the scream tore from her lips. She scrambled behind the lounge chair, snatching up the butter knife.
“Wh…who are you? How did you get in here? How long have you been hiding in my house?” For him to quote her almost word for word, he had to have been there the entire time.
Eyes frantic, she clutched her limp robe to her chest, holding the butter knife as a weapon.
“Get out! Get out now!”
He angled his head, confused. “You summoned me.”
Every horrific episode of Law and Order SVU jumbled in her head. This was so bad!
“Summoned you? Dude, this isn’t funny. I don’t know who is behind this practical joke, but I’m not laughing! Get out or I’m calling the police!”
The man didn’t say a word, and Hannah’s mind raced with options. Why did she have to drink so much on an empty stomach? Didn’t matter. The pain from the broken glass had sobered her already, but this? Paralyzed was the only word that came to mind.
He stood five feet away. Naked and unmoving.
Completely, gloriously naked.
He was utterly stunning, and a dead ringer for the ancient guy in the illustration. That much wasn’t lost on her muddled mind.
Long, dark hair tied with a leather string framed chiseled features. A gorgeous face with eyes the color of dark chocolate looked at her puzzled, but otherwise unfazed at being nude in her back yard.
“Who are you?” she asked again, squaring her shoulders. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was shaky in her ears, so she tightened her jaw.
He lifted one broad shoulder, the muscles in his sculpted torso twitching. “My name is of no consequence,” he replied. “It hasn’t been for some time. I’m here because you made a blood offering. I am yours.”
Mine? As if.
The man’s voice was like silk, and Hannah licked her lips, allowing her eyes to dip over his body once more before jerking her gaze to his face again.
“Am I not everything you imagined?” he asked.
Imagined? Holy fuck, you have no idea.
She ignored the instant heat between her legs, blaming it on the alcohol and ancient erotica.
“Look, I’m only saying this once more. Get out of my house. I don’t care who sent you or why. This isn’t funny.”
Still a little buzzed, her body flushed with the way he stared. Had this been any other scenario she would lick his thighs and more.
Oh baby, much more.
Except for the fact he might be a psycho…
Hannah shook her head, squashing the feeling. She watched his nostrils flare and as he angled his head, his lips curved in a small grin.
Hannah bristled at his smirk. Was she that obvious?
“Dude, you’ve got three seconds or I’m calling the police.”
He lifted one muscular arm and held out his hand out, the action as beckoning as his crooked smile. His eyes swept her ample hips and thighs and whatever the crumpled line of her robe didn’t conceal.
“It’s not often I am summoned by one so young and full.” Teasing fingers trailed the hard planes of his torso. “Come, let me pleasure you.”
One hand shot up. “I don’t think so, buster! You stay right where you are!”
Confusion muddied his gorgeous dark eyes. “I displease you?”
Was he thick or just determined? “Cut the act already and get dressed. I can’t talk to you standing there all naked…and…and—” Heat rose in her cheeks as her gaze flicked to the not so subtle stirring between his legs.
His brows knotted in disbelief and he spread his hands across his body. “Do you not like what see?”
Hannah’s eyes bugged. “L…Like? Dude, you’re pornography incarnate, not to mention a citation for solicitation just waiting to be written.”
He made no move to leave and Hannah’s heart thudded in her chest. Either he was a psycho, or someone was playing a cruel joke.
The latter made her eyes narrow. “Valerie sent you, didn’t she?” Groping for her cellphone on the table, she knocked the open sleeve of crackers to the ground, scattering the buttery rounds.
Keeping her eyes on him, she pressed Val’s number.
“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered.
“I know you were hot to make your point this afternoon, but this is low even for you! We’re not in college anymore.”
“Hannah? What the fuck are you babbling about?” she asked, confused. “What the hell time is it?”
“You know exactly what I’m babbling about! The naked man standing in my back garden! What else?”
“Have you gone insane? You wake me up when you know I worked a double shift, screaming about naked men—” A pause interrupted her rant. “Wait—are you saying you’ve got a naked man in your house?” she asked, fully awake.
“Yes! She finally gets it!”
“Girlfriend, you have some seriously fucked up priorities. No one likes a juicy play-by-play more than me, but not as a live audience.”
“Valerie! This isn’t funny. I know we pulled pranks like this back in the day, but your little surprise nearly gave me a heart attack! Give me the name of the escort service you used so I can call off the dogs.”
Val laughed out loud. “Oh, Hannah. I don’t know who sent you the naked hunk-o-gram, but it wasn’t me. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste my allotted time arguing. Especially since he’s probably on the clock.”
Hannah clutched her robe tighter. “You are so not helping! If you didn’t send him, then that means I have a psycho standing in my living room.” She shook her head. “I’m calling the cops.”
“Hannah, I’m not the only friend you have. Before you call the police and ruin what could be the time of your life, isn’t there anyone else you know with a risqué sense of humor?”
“No.” She chewed her lip. “Wait—well, maybe.”
“See?” Valerie yawned again. “Why don’t you wake them up next and ask before you jump to conclusions?”
“Ockham’s razor, that’s why!”
Valerie sputtered on the other side of the phone. “You’re kidding, right? Ockham’s razor, my ass, girlfriend. I’m exhausted and in no mood to spar wits with you.”
“It means all things being equal, the simplest explanation applies. He’s a psycho and I’m hanging up and calling the police.”
“Fine, but if someone did send him, you’re going to be very embarrassed.”
“Not if he’s an escort, plus he’s trespassing.”
“Hannah—”
She hung up without answering, chewing the side of her lip again she eyed the gorgeous hunk. After overhearing her conversation with Valerie, you would think he’d be out the door in a flash. But no. He was still in the same spot, nonplussed.
Chapter Four
“Well, my best friend says she didn’t send you, so that only leaves one other person, except she’s homeless and has no money, so no—” Hannah muttered, more for her own benefit than anyone else.
Hannah eyed him as she scrolled through her contacts to find the prepaid cell number she gave to Aggie. It rang twice, but then went to a generic voicemail.
At the telltale beep, she exhaled. “Aggie, this is Hannah Foster. I need to speak with you immediately. It’s an emergency.” She hung up the phone. “Goddamn it, Aglaope, where the hell are you?”
“Dracosarra,” the man murmured, his eyes narrowing.
Hannah lifted the cellphone still in her hand and pointed it at him. “Dude, I want to get to the bottom of this, but you are just too naked to have any kind of a conversation.”
“The woman you spoke of—”
So naked…
Hannah waved her hand, cutting him off. “Aggie? What of her?” Her eyes widened. “So it was her who sent you, right?” she shot back, trying not to stare.
How? Hannah shook her head. Everything the woman owned fit in a shopping cart. Still, she did have a priceless book in her possession. There’s no way.
“She is the reason I’ve been a captive to that wretched tome!” His hand flung to the book on the table.
Hannah blinked, looking from him to the book and back again. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The woman. There is only one person I know with that name, although your pronunciation is strange. It cannot be coincidence that you suspect her of sending me to you.”
“Are you saying Aggie sent you or not?” Hannah demanded. “This makes no sense.”
“I know nothing of which you speak. The woman, Aglaope. She was the Dracosarra to my clan. Our seer. She cost me my freedom. For over eight hundred years, I’ve been captive to those pages. Though it’s been centuries since I was last summoned.”
Hannah pursed her lips. “Eight hundred years, huh? Wow, that’s a long time to be two-dimensional.”
When it was clear her sarcasm was lost on him, she shook her head. “Look, you can stop reading from the script. I enjoy a good laugh the same as anyone, but it’s time to let the joke go—and dude, why are you still naked? I get it if it’s a fetish, but seriously.”
“You seem obsessed with my nakedness, but you won’t admit if you like it or not.”
“I am NOT obsessed. And why do you keep asking if I like what I see? Yes, okay? You’re hung like a racehorse. What’s not to like?” She snorted, but at the look on his face she dragged a hand through her hair.
“Look, I don’t know who sent you, but at this point whether or not I like you is immaterial. I would rather you were clothed, that’s all.”
He wrapped a hand around his thick shaft. “You’re scent tells me otherwise. Why do you fight your own body? Your blood sacrifice freed me to please you, and the sun sealed my freedom for a fortnight, so let’s begin.”
“Dude!” She made herself look away, though the sight of him like that sent a punch to her lower belly.
“Blood Sacrifice? What the hell? I fell and cut myself on broken glass.” She lifted a forearm, showing him the cuts.
“You do not want me?”
She licked her lips.
“That’s not the point. You appear in my back yard in the middle of a workday and expect a little afternoon delight? I don’t even know your name.”
“No summoner has ever requested my name.”
“You can stop, okay? I get it.” Tired of clutching her robe like a coward, she exhaled and let her hand drop.
His eyes darkened and a full body blush tingled over her skin. Lifting her robe, she shoved her arms through her the sleeves and tightened the belt.
“There is no narrative here. I am bound to the book and your blood offering freed me to pleasure you. I am yours until you tire of me. Though I am granted a fortnight because of your afternoon delight.”
“My afternoon delight? Dude, you don’t get it. I. Did. Not. Summon. You. If by afternoon delight you mean sunshine, well you’re bound to get that when you waltz into someone’s yard in the middle of the day. Especially in the spring.”
Her words seemed to register, and for a moment Ancient Porno Dude’s lips parted. His eyes moved from her to the flowers in various planters and the indoor fruit trees bursting with life.
Everything was in bloom. Not just in the hot house, but every tree and every blossom, everywhere. It was springtime inside the greenhouse, same as it was outside, and the sun streamed beacon-like through the large broken ceiling pane making it more so.
“It’s been so long,” he whispered. His voice carried both reverence and regret.
Hannah hooked her hands onto her hips. If this was what it took, she’d play along. “What’s your angle, then? Your game?”
“There is no game being played. My sen
tence prohibits falsehoods.”
Her brows knotted. “Wait. You actually expect me to believe someone trapped you in a book eight hundred years ago, and I somehow summoned you when I accidentally bled on your portrait?”
The lunacy of it sank in, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek not to laugh. “I’m either way past drunk, or so desperate to get laid I’ve gone delusional. Either way, the joke’s on me.”
The man’s dark eyes flared blood red and a growl unlike any she’d heard rumbled in his throat.
“Holy shit!” Hannah bolted back from him.
“Woman, this is no jape. I’ve spent endless days and nights isolated from my dual nature and cut off from any semblance of life. All pleasures, gone. Food, wine…sex.” He eyed her. “Even the sun on my face.”
He walked to where the sun streamed brightest, his movements sensual and predatory. Lifting his face to the yellow warmth, he sighed, but there was pain etched beneath the visceral pleasure.
His frustration was palpable, and Hannah’s eyes bugged as the ghosted silhouette of scaled wings flickered behind his bulging shoulders as he reveled in the sunshine.
Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “Wh…wh…what are you?”
She didn’t wait for him to answer. Another scream ripped from her throat as she turned to run, but her foot caught on the same raised slate, and she pitched forward. With a cry she crashed to all fours, pain jarring her body, again.
He rushed toward her, taking her arm to help her up, and when she lifted her face to his, his eyes were a deep gorgeous brown.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head, letting him help her to her feet. “I don’t think so.”
They stood toe-to-toe. “I’m sorry I frightened you. It was not my intention. I accept the consequences of my rash behavior.” He dropped his head and didn’t say another word.
Hannah stood speechless, and after a moment he looked up, as if waiting.
“You expect me to say something?” she asked. “I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you. I’m the one who deserves a full explanation here.” Her gaze flicked to his crotch. “Other than a carnal one, I mean.”
Her Captive Dragon: Howls Romance Page 3