Blaze narrowed her eyes, a dangerous spark in her eyes. Rebel wondered how many pink drinks she’d had.
The next time Tempest threw the ball, Blaze kept her eyes glued to Tyr, who was pretending to be very absorbed in picking the pineapple off his piece of pizza.
Tempest’s throw was obviously off, but nonetheless it started curving back towards the sweet spot.
“I saw that! Cheater!” Blaze waved her hand, sending the ball back to its original trajectory.
“Hey!” Tempest turned on her. “You messed up my throw!”
“You were cheating!”
Rebel glanced over at Zane. He was leaning back in his chair, watching Blaze with amusement laced with lust.
“Do over!” Tyr called out. “Witchy interference!”
“Are you serious? I was only interfering with your interference!”
“You dare to malign my mate’s honor?” Tyr was grinning now.
Tempest picked up on her cue. She put her hand to her heart. “Tyr!”
He slid to one knee in front of her, his arms spread wide. “You called, milady?”
Tempest did a wide-eyed princess simper, clutching her hands. Rebel snorted. Tempest said wickedly, “I’ve been grievously wounded and insulted. Will you be my champion and defend my honor?”
She pulled a paper napkin out of her pocket and handed it to him. “I give you my token.”
Thorne rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
Tyr clutched it to his heart in an exaggerated gesture. “What do you wish?”
Tempest pointed at Blaze. “Take the varlet’s nachos!”
“No!” Blaze squealed, grabbing her nachos off the table. “Not the nachos. Anything but the nachos!”
Tyr put his hand out imperiously and levitated the nachos.
“Oh, hell,” Thorne muttered. Rebel heard him casting a blurring spell to keep other bowlers from seeing nachos floating through the air under their own power.
But she also saw a grin curving the corner of his mouth. He was enjoying this. Seeing Thorne having fun made the center of her chest feel warm.
Blaze threw her own power against Tyr’s, and the nachos began to return to her.
“Fie on you!” Tyr pulled them toward him again. Blaze retaliated, and the plastic basket hovered in mid-air, trembling.
“You shall not defeat me!” Tyr cried out.
Blaze winked at Rebel. The nachos moved slowly toward Tyr. When they were right next to him, Blaze threw all her power against his.
Caught between two equal forces, the basket of nachos exploded, covering Tyr in shards of broken chips, bits of salsa, and cheese sauce. Rebel, Blaze and Zane collapsed in laughter.
Thorne was laughing too. Rebel caught her breath. Happy Thorne was flat-out stunning.
Tyr turned to Tempest, who had given up looking princess-y and was obviously trying not to laugh. “Milady, I have failed in my quest,” he said mournfully. He cocked his head and looked suddenly hopeful. “Unless you want to lick them off me?”
Tempest giggled. “Pass,” she said. “But you can still be my champion. You fought valiantly.” She waved her hand. “You may keep my token.”
“I’d rather be lickable,” Tyr said. Tempest, full of pink drinks, stood on tiptoe and licked a cheese-covered piece of nacho off his cheek. Somehow it ended up being a full kiss, lasting way longer than Rebel thought it should.
She cleared her throat warningly.
“Relax,” Thorne said. “She’s his mate. He’d never take advantage of her, drunk or not.”
“What about you?” Rebel said. “Would you take advantage of me?”
Thorne smiled slowly. “You already said I could, if I won.” The smile got bigger. “And if you win, you get to take advantage of me.” He paused, thinking. “So I guess I win either way.”
It went down to the wire. Rebel made a comeback, mostly by distracting Thorne with kisses just before every frame. She only lost on the very last throw, where she might have accidentally stumbled and missed her aim just a little, so she lost by two pins.
She blamed the pink drinks.
All the way home, she was conscious of his sultry, smoldering presence in the seat next to hers, just waiting to ignite.
Tempest was leaning on Tyr and giggling, picking the occasional crumb of nacho chip out of his hair. He’d changed his shirt under cover of a blurring spell, but he still had a few nacho remnants lurking here and there.
He didn’t seem to mind.
Blaze and Zane were making out in the far back seat of the SUV, and Rebel didn’t really want to know what the hell else they were doing. “Feet on the floor, hands visible at all times,” she called out.
“Fuck you,” Zane said, his voice muffled. “We’re mated.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to watch.”
“Grab your mate’s crotch, then, and stop thinking about mine.”
“Of all the things in the world I spend time thinking of, Sky Lizard, your crotch is near the bottom of the list.”
“Ha! But you do think of it.”
She heard Blaze smack him, and then a whole lot of giggling.
She looked over at Thorne’s crotch. Why not? She was drunk, and he had an impressive package. Casually, she slid her hand over onto his rock-hard thigh. Mmm. He had more muscles than any human should be allowed to have.
“Hands visible at all times,” he murmured.
“You can see them.” But her hand was drifting further up his thigh, and she could definitely feel him getting a boner. Score She let her fingers drift against it, the lightest touch.
“You’re going to pay for this,” he said, softly.
Rebel just smiled. She hoped so.
Chapter 29
When they got back to the lair, Blaze and Zane disappeared in the direction of their rooms, practically tearing each other’s clothes off already.
Tyr and Tempest wandered off towards Tyr’s wing, shoulders bumping together as they talked softly. Tempest barely remembered to call “Goodnight” over her shoulder.
Tyr’s princess.
What was she? Rebel wondered. She definitely was no princess.
“You’re my princess.” It was like Thorne could still hear her thoughts. He came up close to her, his chest inches from hers, and dropped a kiss on her lips. Mmm.
“My snarky,” (kiss) “sexy,” (kiss), “wild,”(kiss), “reckless princess.”
He backed her up against the wall, his hands resting on either side of her. “My captive princess.” He bent his head and kissed her neck, sucking gently on her skin. “I’m going to carry you off to my lair and have my wicked, wicked way with you.”
With every “wicked” he kissed further down her neck, punctuating the last one with a soft bite.
Oh, hell. He was too sexy to live. And he just might be buzzed on pink drinks too.
His lips moved back up, over her cheek to her mouth. He said against her lips, “Unless you have no intention of honoring our bet.” His kiss was hot and sweet, his tongue stroking the inside of her lower lip. He pulled back, his eyes dark and smoky. “I would never dream of forcing you.”
No need for that. She was melting already. “I always honor my bets.”
He kissed her again—longer, deeper. “Then let’s hope you didn’t bet more than you can afford to lose.”
With that, he swept her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder. She protested, laughing, but all he did was smack her butt lightly. “Captive,” he said. “You do whatever I say.”
The smack reminded her of the vision she’d had when she and Thorne were flying back from the heist in Tacoma. God, that seemed so long ago. Everything had changed since then.
But not the way heat flooded her core at that little smack. She gave up protesting and groped Thorne’s butt, trying to get her hand down the waistband of his molded-on jeans. That earned her another light smack.
“No hands down my pants,” he said. “You didn’t ask permission to do that.”
“Five seconds ago,” he said.
“You just want me frustrated,” she muttered.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
When they reached his room he kicked open the door and put her down. Her feet sank into the soft carpet.
She barely got a glimpse of a huge four-poster bed of some dark wood, fabulous art, and a crap-ton of gold tchotchkes before he had her backed up against the wall again.
“You’re taking this captive thing pretty literally, aren’t you,” she panted.
“I’m a dragon.”
He ran his hands sensuously down the outsides of her arms, making her skin tingle. He laced his fingers through hers, and then raised her hands over her head, giving her another one of those toe-curling kisses.
Rebel moaned. The first time they’d had sex, it was half in the spirit world, and Thorne was dying. Not the best time to savor his kisses.
Now she had all the time in the world.
His mouth moved expertly on hers, sucking her lower lip, tangling his tongue with hers, sipping and stroking, taking and giving, until her knees were weak. Then he pulled back a fraction of an inch and whispered, “Your safe word is dragonfire.”
And suddenly there were padded restraints around her wrists, fastened to the wall.
Oh, fuck. This was going to be epic.
He added in her ear, “Any time you say dragonfire, I stop.” He nibbled on her ear. “Of course, there’s always the chance I might stop for the night. So be sure you mean it.”
In response, Rebel rubbed up against him, feeling his hot, hard shaft practically busting out of his jeans. He wanted her bad.
“I can take it.”
He just smiled.
He ran his hands over her stomach, lightly enough to almost tickle, enough to make her belly clench with wanting. He ran his fingertips along the edge of her tied-up shirt, over her abs, just barely beneath the waistband of her jeans. “Gorgeous,” he murmured.
Excruciatingly slowly, he undid the knot in her shirt, and then unbuttoned it one slow button at a time, pausing to kiss each inch of skin revealed. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and his intake of breath when his mouth reached her bare breast was worth him making her wait.
He knelt in front of her, so tall his mouth was on a level with her breasts. He sucked on them greedily, first one and then the other, then licked her hardened nipples until they were so sensitive she wanted to scream.
She pulled against the restraints, wanting to grab his head, run her fingers through his hair, rip his clothes off and ravish his body.
His response was to slow down, teasing her with soft kisses, tantalizing licks, tiny bites. His fingers moved between her legs, lightly stroking her core. She moaned, lifting her hips to try to press harder against him.
He stopped. He was evil. An evil dragon.
“Do you want me to take your pants off?” he murmured.
“Yes.”
He made a light circle right over her clit, on the outside of her jeans. “Say please.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed. “You’re sexy when you’re defiant. But captive princesses aren’t allowed to be defiant.”
He ran his fingers down between her legs again, still on top of her jeans. Rebel’s body writhed. He pulled his hand away.
“That’s all you get until you ask me nicely to take your pants off.”
She caved immediately. “Please, evil dragon,” she said. “Take my pants off.”
“As you wish.” He unzipped them and pulled them down around her thighs, so she could only get her legs a couple of inches apart.
He wrapped his hands around her butt, molding and caressing the flesh, and then ran his tongue from her navel down to her shaved pussy. He pressed his tongue in her slit, just barely stroking her clit.
Rebel seriously thought she was going to die.
He licked her slowly. She strained to open her legs to him, but the jeans kept her constrained, his tongue moving between her slick folds.
Rebel was panting, able to think of nothing but wanting more. Barely able to make words, she forced out, “I thought… evil dragons… brought princesses back to their lairs… to eat them.”
She felt him smile.
“They do.”
The next second her pants were gone, and Thorne had one of her legs over his shoulder, his mouth hot against her core, kissing her deeply there. Rebel lost track of everything—time, place, the words and moans that were coming out of her mouth, begging for more.
The sensation built until it was too much—she couldn’t handle it anymore. Her orgasm crashed around her until she was shaking with need and sweet release.
Something felt like it cracked open inside her chest, warmth filling her. All around her, the gold ornaments in Thorne’s room started to hum.
The music felt like it was inside her, every nerve ending vibrating in harmony with the song, fueling the intensity of the sensation. Unbelievably, another climax began building, roaring down on her.
Then Thorne rose to his feet and lifted her up. He was naked, his hot skin pressing on hers and setting her on fire. He still cupped her ass, his huge cock sliding against her pussy, teasing her entrance.
She heard herself make an inarticulate sound of need.
Slowly, he pressed into her, and she shuddered. Her arms were still bound, but she wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to move inside her.
Oh, god, this. This was what she’d been craving, wanting all her life without knowing it. “Thorne,” she moaned, and her voice was in harmony with the song of the gold.
He thrust into her, faster and harder. She opened her eyes and saw him looking into her face, eyes burning with desire and need.
Then the restraints were gone and he pulled her against him, still thrusting hard into her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the rising tide of emotion she’d felt in her vision, high in the sky. That sense of total safety and wild freedom. And joy.
The song of the gold flung her into another orgasm, deeper and more intense, a perfect moment of harmony. She felt Thorne’s body shudder, and he braced her against the wall as he gave one final thrust, groaning out her name.
Chapter 30
Thorne staggered back toward the bed, still holding Rebel against him. It was entirely possible he was never going to let her go.
Not even if Vyrkos rose out of his tomb right now.
He lay down on his back, pulling her on top of him, still inside her. Joined. Where they belonged.
The gold was still humming, energizing and soothing him at the same time, making the middle of his chest vibrate with heat.
He’d never felt anything like that before. Her and him and the gold, all part of the same song. It was breathtaking.
Unable to stand any space between them, he began kissing every part of her he could reach, worshiping her body. Rebel practically started purring.
“Mmm, nice,” she said, her voice slurred as if she were drunk. Drunk on mating.
“I don’t know why princesses always wanted to be rescued from dragons. If they knew it was like this, they would have stayed forever.”
Thorne went still, his lips against her shoulder. “Would they?” he asked softly. “Would you?”
He expected her to go prickly and pull away, but Rebel slid her fingers into his hair, caressing it. She was silent for a long moment. He could sense thoughts churning in her brain, and wished desperately he could still hear them.
Finally she asked softly, “Do you really want to be my mate? I mean, my mate. Not because I’m one of the Three Destined Mates, or because you need someone to help you keep it together while you’re dragon’s gone. But just… because.”
The question knocked him sideways, a dozen thoughts crowding in his mind at once. Rebel. Herself. The curve of her face. What her hair felt like, threading between his fingers. Sweeping over his skin right now as she mo
ved her head, soft and silky.
What her skin felt like against his. She wasn’t a dragon, and yet she felt so warm when he touched her. He wanted to caress her bare skin forever, cover it with his, make her moan and purr and scream in pleasure.
He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, and see if she was the one thing that could fill the hole inside him.
Not the hole that his dragon had left. But the hole that had never quite been filled by gold, or by taking over his father’s mission, or befriending Zane and helping him over the grief of losing his family.
But those things were still about him, he realized suddenly. What he wanted and needed.
Not about what he could give to her.
Why should she want to be with him, when he was still only thinking of himself?
She always thought of other people. Tempest. Him, when he lost his human side, and then again when he lost his dragon.
The people who would die if Vyrkos rose.
He wasn’t exactly a bargain. He was grumpy, and intense, and he wasn’t really good at having fun—although Rebel seemed to have fun bowling.
He’d thought his only assets were that he was good-looking by human standards, he could give her orgasms, and he had lots of gold.
But maybe she didn’t need all that. Maybe what she really needed was his honesty. Something real and true.
“I do want it,” he said finally, pushing the words out because they didn’t want to come.
He stroked her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. So strong. Your eyes are like mossy pools of water, dark and mysterious.”
That made her smile.
He paused, then made himself go on. “You make me feel things. Thing I’ve never felt before.”
She gave another small smile, but this one looked sad, somehow. “I didn’t think you wanted that. To feel things.”
Honesty. “I’m not sure I do, always,” he said. “I’ve spent a long time trying not to feel things. But when I’m with you, I want to feel everything.”
He played with one of her curls, running his finger down her cheek and then kissing the place he touched.
“This—us—makes me feel like I’m suddenly alive when I was half-dead all my life. Even with my dragon gone, sometimes I still feel happy. Like when I see you smile.”
Dragon's Rebel (Wild Dragons Book 2) Page 13