by Anna Lowe
It might have been seconds later or an hour when she opened her eyes. Tristan had slumped over her, his cheek along hers. When she stirred, he did too, slowly rubbing up and down.
Natalie’s mind spun. The best sex of her life. Visions of flying, even breathing fire. A kiss like none other…
“What was that?” she whispered, reliving it.
Tristan stopped nuzzling long enough to look her in the eyes. “Dragon kiss.”
His mouth remained open as if he might say more, but after a pause, he went back to nuzzling.
“Dragon kiss, huh?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let her fingers caress his back.
He rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow quietly — nervously? — awaiting her judgment.
She licked the last hint of heat off her lips and nodded. “I like it.”
Tristan broke into laughter, and for the next minute, the huge, empty apartment echoed with the sound. Enough to make Bijou appear around a corner, then scowl and stalk away.
Slowly, Tristan settled down again, and his face grew pensive.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head, then murmured in French. “Where were you?”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Where…?”
“Where were you my whole life?”
She bit her lip, and for the next happy thumps of her heart, they lay there, marveling at each other.
“Where have you been my whole life?” she whispered at last.
Tristan broke into a smile that was a lot like hers — part sorrow at what they had been missing all along, and part wonder at finally feeling…
Complete, her inner voice filled in.
Natalie bit her lip, studying Tristan. Yes, complete. But there was still so much she didn’t know about him — or even herself. Then she shooed those thoughts away. She’d done enough thinking — and discovering — for one night.
Tristan shuffled around, spooning her from behind, and they lay together without uttering a sound. The few times Natalie opened and closed her eyes, she focused on his fingers, wrapped around hers, keeping her close. Keeping her safe.
Then, feeling more tired and satisfied than she’d ever thought possible, she slowly, peacefully, drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty
Tristan woke with a groan, reluctant to budge from Natalie’s side. He’d been sleeping so well — the sleep of the just, as a former sergeant of his would say — but now, a boulder was rolling at his bedside, or so it seemed. He cracked an eye open. He had been planning to sleep through till morning, but judging by the darkness, it was only three or four a.m. Paris was still sleeping, and dammit, so should he.
He turned, ready to turn one hand into a claw and lash out. It was a special night. An amazing night. The first ever with his mate. Who dared disturb that?
Two shining eyes regarded him in silence, and that awful rolling sound broke out again.
“Bijou,” he groaned.
If Natalie hadn’t been sharing his pillow, he would have thrown it at the cat.
Bijou blinked then batted at the watch on the bedside table. It rolled, bumping and rattling as it went.
“Bijou,” Tristan hissed.
The cat purred as if to say, Do I finally have your attention?
If wrath counted as attention, then yes, Bijou had it. Tristan flopped back and stared at the ceiling, counting to ten. The last time Bijou had made a racket like that, he’d locked the little beast out on the roof. But the cat had started yowling, and Tristan had been forced to let the monster back in. And when he had…
He growled at the memory. Bijou had sauntered in then strutted right back out. The cat didn’t care where he was. He just enjoyed torturing dragons. There was no winning with him.
“You’ll wake Natalie,” Tristan tried.
Bijou seemed to consider for a moment, then smacked the watch again — a little more softly, so it didn’t make quite as much noise, but enough to get under Tristan’s skin.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
Bijou looked up smugly as if to say, Guess.
Tristan swung his jaw from side to side. God, did he hate cats. Little ones, at least. Liam and the other feline shifters Tristan knew were mostly okay. Of course, they all had that prima donna streak in them, just like Bijou did.
Did the cat want food? Did he want to go out? Or was it all a ploy to lure Tristan out of bed so Bijou could sneak in next to Natalie?
The cat rattled the watch again, and Tristan finally gave in.
“Okay, okay, j’arrive.” I’m coming.
Sliding out of bed shouldn’t have taken much effort, but with Natalie there, Tristan almost gave up. It was only Bijou taking aim at the watch that made him force himself to his feet. Bijou scampered to the kitchen, but Tristan stood at the bedside for a moment, watching Natalie sleep.
Her hair was mussed, and her hands still clasped at her chest, leaving space for his fingers to curl around hers. She looked so peaceful, so content. So…part of his life, somehow. She fit right in. Or she could, if she wanted it as much as he did.
His heart just about tripled in size as his dragon murmured, I want it. More than anything.
The problem was, she was a Fire Maiden. The proof was in the visions that had swept through her when they’d bonded. Normally, he couldn’t read her mind, but those images had come through loud and clear. In them, she was a gorgeous, copper-colored dragon. Most dragons were brown, black, tan, or green. The rare shades between copper and gold were the sign of a legend.
Fire Maiden, his dragon breathed.
He took a deep breath. That Natalie had dragon blood, he knew. That she was special, any fool ought to be able to see. But part of him must have been hoping she wasn’t descended from Liviana, Queen of the Dragons, just to make things easier for them. But now, reality sank in.
She was a princess. He was a nobody.
He pursed his lips. That didn’t matter, did it? They would find a way. But, hell. Alaric and the others would put up a fuss, and—
Bijou popped his head around the doorway, glaring. Must I summon you again?
Tristan sighed. There were times he could have sworn the cat was a shifter, but no. Just a pint-sized monster who thought he could boss dragons around.
Tristan walked to the kitchen slowly, resolving not to ruin an amazing morning with thoughts of forbidden. Bijou, meanwhile, wound between his legs, nearly tripping him.
“Natalie fed you, you beast,” he murmured, reaching into a cabinet for a packet of cat food.
Bijou looked on eagerly, then turned up his nose.
“Et maintenant, qu’est-ce que tu veux?” Now, what do you want? Tristan demanded. When Bijou looked back at the cabinet, Tristan shut the door with his foot. “You get what you get, mister. I don’t eat salmon most nights.”
Bijou looked on, miffed, as Tristan thumped the packet over the edge of the food dish.
The nice lady uses a spoon, Bijou’s sour expression said.
Yeah, well. Food was food.
Wrinkling his nose at the smell, Tristan toed the dish closer to Bijou, then turned to the sink. Footsteps sounded behind him, and he whipped around. It was Natalie, padding to the bathroom, still half asleep and as gorgeously naked as she’d been in bed. He gulped and forced himself to go back to bed. Much as he would have liked to wait for her — and maybe even replay that sensual embrace by the windows — that probably wasn’t best. Americans were shy about their bodies, though he didn’t know why. Especially not a body as perfect as Natalie’s. So he went back to bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting.
The sheets carried Natalie’s heavenly fragrance along with the sticky-sweet scent of sex. He licked his lips, savoring the last traces of Natalie’s kisses. A perfectly unique, perfectly Natalie taste that made him love her even more. Other women tasted like something else — cherry, strawberry, or whatever the heck was in the stuff they put on their lips. But Natalie tasted like Natalie. Pure,
honest, unpretentious.
He reached out, touching the space beside him and gazed toward the windows. In a few hours, a new day would dawn. What kind of day would it be?
He would give anything for a nice, quiet day for the two of them. A stroll in the park, hand in hand. A stop for a crêpe or at the confiserie. Then they’d walk home with a nice bottle of wine and maybe spend a few hours in bed.
But a sinking feeling warned him of what really lay ahead. The confrontation with Marcel meant it was time to see Alaric and exercise damage control. But, merde. How? He’d nuzzled Natalie hard enough that no shower would erase her scent.
Not that he wanted to erase it. He wanted to flaunt it — not as a trophy, but as a sign of his intent. Natalie was his mate, and he had every right to celebrate that. He wanted to parade his love around like Hugo and Clara, who got to exchange all the I’m so in love with you looks they wanted. But Tristan couldn’t, not when it came to a Fire Maiden.
He frowned. Finding one’s mate ought to be a joyous occasion, not a dilemma. What if Alaric kicked him out of Paris? What then?
“Hey.” A whisper pulled him out of his thoughts. It was Natalie, standing beside the bed, her arms held shyly over her chest. But the minute their eyes locked…
Natalie smiled, and her shoulders relaxed. Tristan’s blood surged with that instant pull, that instinctive recognition.
Mate, his dragon hummed.
Mate, a faint voice echoed, making his heart swell.
He could feel the dragon stirring inside her. A powerful, confident presence that had been there all along, like a single jewel hiding under all the treasures of Natalie’s personality.
Just wait till we make her our mate, his dragon murmured.
His heart skipped. Then she would be a dragon, too. A formidable one.
Fire Maiden, his dragon whispered.
Then Alaric’s words echoed in his mind. Forbidden.
Wordlessly, he held up the sheet, and Natalie slid right in. Not just into bed, but into his arms — and into a nice, soft kiss.
“You’re worried about something,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “That stopped when I saw you.”
She lit up and cupped his face, stroking his chin with her thumb. He leaned into her touch, practically purring like that goddamn cat.
“So soft,” she murmured, tracing his stubble. Then she bit her lip. “Your eyes are glowing again.”
So are yours, he wanted to say. Faintly, but definitely glowing with a mix of contentment and apprehension.
He gave a tiny nod. “Dragons do that when they’re happy.”
Happier than I’ve ever been, he wanted to add. But a little scared of the future too.
Her lips curled into a broad smile that faded all too quickly. “Your eyes were glowing red after you fought.”
He held his breath. Did that scare her?
Maybe she read his mind, because she shook her head and whispered, “I think you’ve proven yourself trustworthy. You’re my knight in shining armor.”
He smiled, relieved. “Nowadays, we call them bodyguards.”
“No, you’re definitely knight quality,” she assured him with a smile. Then she went somber again, and her eyes slid away from his. “So, last night, you conquered another dragon, and then you conquered some woman?”
He shook his head immediately. “You’re not some woman. One particular one.” He ran a finger along her cheek. “Besides, I’m pretty sure she conquered me.”
Natalie’s grin stretched, and he went on.
“A special woman.”
She flashed a wistful smile. “Special, huh?”
He hesitated, because he’d seen her reaction to Marcel’s proposal. But he had to say it.
“You’re my mate, Natalie. My destiny. You’re the one.”
She went still but didn’t bolt. Her hand remained on his chest, her legs still snuggled along his. “The one you recognized at first sight?”
His heart thumped wildly, and his dragon lashed its tail. Yes! Yes!
He nodded quietly, trying not to hope too hard.
She crooked an eyebrow. “The one you want to bear you lots of offspring?”
He grimaced at the echo of Marcel’s words. “The woman I want to love. To honor. To protect. The one I’ve been burning to touch for so long.”
He held his breath, hoping that extra glow in her eyes wasn’t just a reflection of his.
She nodded slowly. “Something you felt the first time we touched, and every morning, noon, and night ever since we met?”
His pulse skipped. So it wasn’t just him. She felt it too.
“All my life, I’ve been waiting for you. I just didn’t know it until now.”
Natalie’s chest rose in a deep sigh, and then she stuck a finger at his chest. “You promise this has nothing to do with power?”
“If I wanted power, I wouldn’t be working for Alaric. All I know is I want you. I need you.”
She nodded as if she felt exactly the same. “Destiny…”
Her eyes met his, and he nodded. I felt that lightning bolt too.
Then she faked a frown. “Wait. Do I blame destiny for the fact that I heat up every time I see you?”
He grinned. “Must be.”
Her hands slid farther down his rear, kneading as they went. “And it’s all destiny’s fault that I want you again right now?”
He nodded gravely.
“Hmm,” she mumbled, sweeping her tongue over his lips. “I guess we shouldn’t mess with that.”
“Definitely don’t want to mess with that.” He rolled, coming over her.
For a few breathless minutes, they lay there, kissing, touching, exploring. Tristan kept reaching for a condom, then stopping, because he just couldn’t let her go. Natalie made greedy little kitten sounds, driving him wild. When he finally broke away, lunging for the side table, she reared up with a wicked grin.
“What do dragons think about doggy style?” She rolled to all fours, glancing back at him.
His eyes already felt hot as coals, but the sight of her perfect rear made them burn harder.
“Let me show you,” he rumbled, fumbling with the condom. In truth, he was dying to skip that step and enter her skin-on-skin.
Someday, his dragon promised as he rolled on the condom.
Someday, he agreed, kneeling behind her.
Slowing down long enough to kiss her shoulder, he snuggled up, running his hands over the perfect curve of her ass. Then he reached around, kneading a breast with one hand while tracing her folds with the other.
“Oh…” she breathed, swaying under him.
His cock ached in anticipation, but he held out, savoring the sweet scent of her arousal. Savoring everything about the moment, in fact. The trust. The raw need.
He dipped his fingers deeper, anticipating the rush of burying himself in that sweet heaven. The kisses he rained along her neck turned to nips, and it was hard not to imagine a mating bite.
“Tristan,” Natalie murmured, bumping back against him.
He held her hips, ready to give her what she wanted. He only paused long enough to finger-comb her hair away from her back and off to one side. That view was better than anything in Paris, London, and Rome combined, and there was no way he was going to miss it.
“Tristan,” Natalie groaned.
Her cry went right to his cock, and his dragon roared inside. Then he pushed in, making Natalie cry out. His mind exploded with a thousand floodlights, and thinking became impossible. Only doing. Moving. Satisfying the burning need to connect.
Again and again, he thrust forward. The faster he moved, the more Natalie pushed back against him. Her head was on the pillow, her rear high in the air, and the sounds of their lovemaking drove his dragon wild. A bead of sweat dropped from his forehead to her back. He gritted his teeth, giving her everything he had.
“Oh!” Natalie hit a high note and clamped down around him, making him explode.
Every muscle cl
enched. A flood of pleasure flowed through his body, and his cock pulsed. It was ecstasy — pure ecstasy, like nothing he’d ever felt.
Mate, his dragon said with sheer certainty.
This was no accident. It was not a mistake. It was destiny, telling him where he belonged.
Slowly, he slumped, delirious with pleasure. Moments later, he stumbled away, disposed of the condom, and hurried back. Then he stretched out, pulling Natalie against his chest. Panting and cooing, she clung to him.
“Destiny,” she whispered into the dark.
Tristan closed his eyes. Fire Maiden or not, she was his. Let any fool try to get between him and true love.
His dragon huffed. Let them try.
Natalie’s soothing touch brought him back to the dreamy cocoon of the bed, and he slowly settled down. Dawn was only a few hours away, and when it broke, he’d give anyone who protested a piece of his mind. But right now…
He caressed Natalie’s shoulder and breathed softly into the night. “Destiny, my mate.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Natalie woke slowly, having slept like a log — or as the French said, comme une marmotte — like a marmot. That fit, considering how she’d burrowed under the sheets and cuddled against Tristan, where she would have been happy to hibernate for the next few months. The man was all muscle, yet she fit perfectly into the curve of his chest. And the way he kept his arms looped around her…
She sighed. Heaven.
Opening her eyes reinforced the impression. Light streamed through the windows in bold streaks of gold, and outside, a chorus of birds sang.
She flexed her fingers around Tristan’s, thinking about everything they’d done. She’d never had anything but plain, predictable, missionary-style sex. Now, in a single night… She puffed a breath of air over her face, trying to cool off. It was uncanny, how her body and Tristan’s communicated. When one of them moved, the other always knew exactly what to do, like they’d been born for each other.