Dragon Bound

by Thea Harrison

  He ignored it. “We should go.”

  She nodded, trying to tuck flyaway strands of hair behind her ears. “Yes, of course we should. How long did we rest?”

  “Couple hours.” He turned away, fighting to control his reaction to her.

  “There’s time to clean up, then. If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower and change. I won’t be long.” She hurried down the hall.

  Dragos angled his head and watched her leave. He still didn’t like that image of her walking away.

  Someday you will trust me. Then you will tell me what more there was to the dream and why you were so shaken. You will not be afraid of me and you will tell me all your secrets. And then you will be mine.

  He smiled. She didn’t realize he was still on the hunt. Good. It was better that way.

  In the bedroom, Pia grabbed the second new outfit she had bought along with underwear, a pair of blue jean capris and a lemon yellow stretch T-shirt with capped short sleeves and a scalloped neck. Only one more new outfit to go. At the rate she was dirtying things, she was going to have to do laundry or buy more clothes.

  She closed the bathroom door, feeling silly as she locked it. Like that and the U.S. Army would keep him out if he chose to get in. She shook her head, started the shower, stripped and stepped in.

  The warm water gushed over her head and body, soothing achy, tired places. She hissed when it hit her abraded knees. Working fast, she washed her hair with proper shampoo, sighing with relief as she worked conditioner through it and the ropy length became softer and more manageable. Then she soaped the rest of her body, rinsed, dried and dressed. She brushed her hair and pulled it back with a yellow scrunchie, threw the toiletries back into the shopping bag and stepped out of the bathroom.

  Dragos had stretched out on the rumpled covers. He made the queen-sized bed look small and cramped. She ran into an invisible wall when she saw him. He lay on his back, eyes closed, one hand behind his head, the other resting on that long washboard stomach.

  He had removed the bloodstained shirt and wore only his jeans and boots. The shoulder wound still shone white against the bronze skin. His ribs rippled under heavy pectorals and dark nipples puckered against the cool air. He had washed too, the inky sprinkle of hair still damp on that truly inhuman chest. His head was damp too. She caught the scent of clean male.

  As with every room he entered, he owned the bedroom just by being there. She shivered and rummaged for her last clean shirt, a long-sleeved button-down. After she tore off the tags, she put it on and wore it like a jacket, since the hoodie had had such a short life span.

  His presence was too overwhelming. She could not bring herself to sit near him on the edge of the bed. Instead she crouched to slip on anklet socks and her tennis shoes. Her gaze darted from Dragos to her various belongings scattered around the room. She looked at her backpack with the documentation for three new identities and almost a hundred thousand dollars. Then she looked back at the supine male.

  “Are you ready?” she asked. She sounded as winded as if she had run a marathon. She went around the room and collected her belongings, stuffing them into another shopping bag.

  “Yes,” he said. He took a deep breath and sighed. It was an awe-inspiring sight. She licked her lips and tried to think of other things. “You don’t need those other identities,” he told her. “I like the name Pia Alessandra Giovanni. It suits you.”

  Shit. Three very expensive well-constructed identities down the toilet. And the others were back in New York. “I can’t believe you!” she exploded. “That was my stuff! You had no right to look at it.”

  “Of course I did,” he said.

  How did he manage to come up with that? She threw one of the shopping bags at him. He must have been watching her with his eyelids slit. In a movement that looked lazy yet was very fast, he caught the bag with one hand. “I bet you counted the money too!” she snapped.

  “Of course I did,” he said again. He grinned, a white slash of a smile. “Women really do take a lot longer in the bathroom. I also looked in the refrigerator, used your cell phone to call New York and pocketed your car keys. There can’t be a scrap of predator Wyr in you because you aren’t just a vegetarian, you’re a vegan. No wonder you’re so scrawny.”

  “Scrawny!” Only he could think of calling a five foot ten, 140-pound woman scrawny. She threw the other shopping bag at him. He caught that too but couldn’t stop the bottles of shampoo, conditioner and lotion spilling over him. “I am not! And anyway, I’m not quite a vegan either. I’ll eat honey if it’s harvested in a responsible manner. But forget about all that—you give me back my car keys!”

  “Not happening,” he told her.

  She launched at him and smacked him in the chest. “You bastard! You did not have any right to go through my things or—or steal my car!”

  He started laughing, a deep, full-out belly laugh. Then in a move that mimicked the one in the dream, he grabbed her arms, rolled her over his body and slammed her into the mattress. She squeaked. He rose over her, eclipsing the light. Those golden raptor’s eyes were alight. “There is not another entity in the world who would dare to act that way with me.”

  She froze and the blood drained from her face.

  His expression changed. He held a stiffened finger under her nose and said, “No! I did not mean that as a threat.”

  Her lips trembled. “What did you mean then?”

  He laid a hand on her cheek. It was so long it almost covered the length of her head. “You’re mine,” he said. “You can deny it, argue, throw fits, try to run away. But. You’re. Still. Mine.”

  “That’s insane,” she whispered. “I have no idea what that means. I don’t belong to you or anyone else.”

  “Yes, you do,” he told her. His thumb stroked her lips. “You are mine and I will keep you. I will not hurt you and I will protect you. And you’re beginning to trust me. All of that is a good thing.”

  “I am not a piece of property, damn it!”

  “But you are in my possession.”

  She enunciated, “I think you are a lunatic.”

  “Since you are too, that works well enough.” His mouth curled into a smile. He lowered his head slowly, watching her. When she tensed, he whispered, “You’re safe. I just want to taste you. No more.”

  He waited inches above her lips.

  This was so wrong on so many levels. She looked from his patient eyes to his mouth. The tension melted from her traitorous body.

  He felt her resistance go. His mouth covered hers. Her eyes fluttered closed. His lips, warm and firm, moved featherlight against hers, discovering their shape and texture. It was nothing like the dream when they were both hard and rough with each other. This kiss was slow, confident, unhurried and sensuous.

  Pleasure spiraled down through her body and grew liquid. She murmured and touched his jaw.

  He licked and nibbled at her lips, his breathing deepening. As her fingers traveled up from his jaw and threaded through his hair, he opened his mouth and drove into her with his tongue. The pleasure spiked higher, sharper.

  He angled her head so he had better access and could dig deeper into her mouth, his body hardening. He drove his thigh between her legs and pushed up against the area that had grown wet in response to him. She made another muffled noise as she kissed him back with escalating excitement. He growled and pushed harder with his thigh, deeper with his tongue.

  He hit just the right spot. She gasped and arched her pelvis. Both her arms were now wound around his neck. He cupped her ass and pulled her up more tightly against him. He wound his other arm underneath her neck, holding her pressed along the length of his body. He found a wicked rhythm with mouth and thigh that stole all thought from her until she was so torched, she was eating at him with the same lack of control as she had in the dream.

  He devoured her with starved greed. She ran her hands over his bare shoulders. His nude torso was all over her, his thick hard erection pressing against he
r hip. She wanted his clothes off. She wanted him inside of her, holding her down as he pounded into her.

  Oh my God, she wanted to pull way the hell back now. She yanked her mouth away and said, gasping, “Stop. It’s too much.”

  He reared back his head and hissed. He crushed her to him and didn’t move, his body strung tight.

  His gaze had turned to lava again, golden eyes burning. She turned and buried her face against his hard, bunched biceps. She whispered, “I’m just not ready.”

  “The boyfriend,” he snarled.

  “Ex-boyfriend. And I’m so over him.”

  She peeked at him. He was looking down at her, the planes and angles of his dark face cut sharp. “You said you were still hurt.”

  She laid her fingers against that taut mouth and traced it, obsessed with the shape and texture of him. “I am hurt because I chose to trust someone and was betrayed. I am no longer hurt by him, nor would I want anything to do with him if he were still alive. The most I would be tempted to do is beat the crap out of him again.”

  The tension in his body started to ease. She felt his mouth pull into a smile under her fingers. “You beat the crap out of him?”

  She smiled back, eyes crinkling at him. “Well, no,” she admitted. “But I did get a lot of satisfaction out of pushing him until I smacked him into a wall.”

  He studied her. The ivory of her skin was flushed a delicate pink, lips swollen and dusky red from being kissed. Those night-dark violet eyes sparkled at him. However she claimed she felt, her body was lax and trusting as it curved to fit his. The scent of her intense arousal was delectable. All her jeweled tones had been polished bright.

  “You are utterly gorgeous,” he said. He pressed his lips against her forehead.

  Her eyes widened in shock. Then she looked away, her flush deepening. She couldn’t think of anything to say. On impulse she hugged him tight. It seemed to surprise him because he held still and then hugged her back, crushing her to him before letting go.

  He rolled away from her and onto his feet in one smooth, lithe motion. “Now we really must go.”

  She wobbled to her feet, not as graceful as he had been. He helped her pick up the things that had spilled from the shopping bags and insisted on carrying them and her backpack. Feeling she had lost vital control of her life somehow, she trailed after him.

  Before they left she went to the kitchen to collect her cell phone and to grab what she could eat on the run. She ignored the salad ingredients and dressing. She threw into another shopping bag a package of almonds, soy yogurt and a spoon she swiped from the utensil drawer, along with the bottled water she had bought.

  The dryer was running in the small utility room off the kitchen. Dragos stopped it and pulled out his torn Armani shirt. He had rinsed out the blood as best he could, but the pristine white was gone. He shrugged it on but didn’t bother to fasten what few buttons were left. She found herself grateful for even that indifferent coverage. Although it didn’t help much. He was still distracting and sexy, with glimpses of that long brown torso showing at the open shirt. The sight of his bare chest had stolen every digit of her IQ.

  They stepped outside. As Dragos closed the front door, she made a mental note to call Quentin to warn him they hadn’t left the house in quite as good a shape as she would have liked.

  Dragos escorted her to the passenger’s side of the car as he looked around. The stone-cold killer was back. He opened the door for her and closed it after she was seated, then put the packages in the back and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “Are you expecting trouble?” she asked, looking around at the tranquil night scene. Altogether with her nap and everything else, they had used about six of Dragos’s twelve-hour time limit, and it was around 3:00 A.M. Someone several beach houses down was having a party with all lights blazing, but they kept it quiet.

  “Not if the Elves keep to their word,” he said. He located the lever and pushed the seat back as far as it could go.

  “Why wouldn’t they?” she asked, her eyes wide. “I’ve never heard anything bad about their integrity.”

  “You’re quite a bit younger than I am too,” he reminded her. “Every race has had its less than stellar moments now and then. Oh, for fuck’s sake. This car is going to kill me.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Still waiting for it to pick up speed,” he told her. “Any day now. What is it, a POS?”

  “What’s a POS?”

  “Piece-of-shit car.”

  She started to laugh. “It’s a Honda Civic, and it’s a fine car. Very fuel efficient.”

  “Well, we know why, don’t we?” Despite his words, he kept to a modest speed until they had left the beach area and came to a main highway. When he accelerated, he held the car’s speed steady at the speed limit.

  “What kind of car do you have?” She opened her yogurt. She was starving.

  “My favorite is the Bugatti.”

  She might have known he would have a car worth over a million dollars. No doubt it did something extravagant like hit the sound barrier in sixty seconds. She started to eat. “How many other cars do you have?”

  “Maybe thirty in the whole fleet. I don’t keep track of them all. The ones I drive are the Bugatti or the Hummer. Sometimes the Rolls. My people drive the others.”

  “Of course they do,” she said. His people. She shook her head. Such extravagant wealth was unimaginable.

  He glanced at her sideways, his lip curled. “What the hell are you eating?”

  She wiped the corner of her mouth with a thumb. “Soy yogurt.”

  “Is that food? I tried what you bought the other day, the Twizzlers and the cherry Coke Slurpee. I couldn’t get either one out of my mouth fast enough.”

  She burst out laughing. “Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “It was,” he told her in a serious voice. “It was very much that bad.”

  “How did you know . . .” Realization dawned. “Oh, the note I left you. I wrote it on the back of a receipt.” She smacked her forehead. “That’s how you tracked me.”

  “We got the security footage from the date of the receipt. Between that and your human name you told me in the dream, we had you.”

  She sighed, finished her yogurt and opened the package of almonds. “So much for my life of crime.” She offered him the opened package and he shook his head. Headlights came up behind them and stayed a steady distance away. She noticed him looking in the rearview mirror and twisted in her seat. “What is it?”

  “We have an escort to the Elven border.” His profile looked hard in the dim reflected light. “How polite of them. What do you want to bet they would offer roadside assistance if we got a flat?”

  “Well, you can hardly blame them,” she pointed out. “You did trespass.”

  “Yes, and you stole from me,” he said. “And look at how well we’re getting along.”

  She was taken aback. She thought back on the overloaded day. They were getting along extraordinarily well. She suspected she ought to be freaked-out by it. Come to think of it, some part of her was.

  “Now that you mention it,” she murmured, “you do seem to be running against type a bit. Aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” he told her in a silken voice. “Do you think I go from possibly rending to kissing in a day with just anyone who’s stolen from me?”

  “I . . . I haven’t had much time to think about it.” She hadn’t had time to think of much of anything.

  He held up a finger. “First, you’re the only one who’s ever successfully stolen from me.” He held up another finger. “Second, I am not a forgiving creature. In fact, you’re the only one I’ve ever forgiven before.” He put up a third finger. “And third, I like vengeance. I’m looking forward to ripping apart the person who gave you that charm and who ended up with my penny.”

  “Put like that, I should still be running away screaming,” she said. She swallowed and looked out her window at the dark night s
cenes passing by. “Why is this so different?”

  “Remember when I said I wasn’t bored?”

  She nodded as she folded the corner of her long-sleeved shirt between her fingers.

  “Looking back, I think I’ve been bored for centuries now. That’s a pretty big rut. People rush to give me anything I could want. And if for some reason that doesn’t happen, I can always buy what I want.”

  “I can’t imagine,” she murmured.

  “Well, I live that way every day. But you’re different. You have been a series of surprises from the first,” said Dragos. “I have never been so angry. Then your note made me laugh out loud. The dream? Big surprise. The ridiculous things you say, the way you smell, the color of your hair in the sunlight, in the moonlight.” He shot her a sidelong glance with that blade-sharp smile of his. “I am very much not bored. I find that’s worth a lot to me, including figuring out how to do new things.”

  She turned to look out her window again. Oh great, so she could relax as long as he was entertained? What happened when he got bored with her? Would he forget how he “forgave” her? She bit her lip.

  Good thing there were still three caches in New York, with three new identities and more money. Guess she was going back to the city with him after all. She would just have to play along until she found some way to get away.

  His hand landed on her knee. She jumped and turned her attention back to him. “Pia,” he said. The smile was gone from his voice. “I want you to listen to me. I’m serious. Do not try to run away when we get back to the city.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh come on, it’s not a big leap,” he retorted. His hand tightened, as hard on her as an iron manacle. “Remember I said I called New York? I talked to my First sentinel, a gryphon named Rune. We think we know who might have been responsible for orchestrating what happened, manipulating and killing Keith and his bookie, making sure the charm got to you and who ended up with the penny.”