Mikhail: A Royal Dragon Romance (Brothers of Ash and Fire Book 2)

by Lauren Smith

  “You’re squishing your face again. I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t true. There are plenty of men who think you’re attractive.”

  Piper snorted. “Of course, like the creepy archivist at the museum—”

  “No. I mean yes, but I mean that other men like you too. Ask me how I know that.” Jodie climbed off the bed and approached one of her gown boxes.

  “Okay. I’ll bite. How do you know?”

  “Because.” Her friend paused as she lifted the lid of her box and stroked the silk of her new black dress. “I bumped into Mikhail when he came into the exhibit. On purpose. He barely glanced at me. I gave up and circled around to the back of the exhibit, and that’s when I saw him talking to you.”

  Piper waved a hand. “He was only talking to me because I talked to him about the jewels.”

  Jodie removed her dress from the box and whirled it around so the skirt swayed. “Then you didn’t see the way he was looking at you. There was just as much interest in you as those pearls. Trust me on this. If there’s one thing I understand, it’s men.”

  Jodie was right about that. She understood men, and they flocked to her like birds to a cartoon princess. If she hadn’t been so nice when they met two years ago, Piper would not have wanted to get to know Jodie. Jealousy would have gotten in the way. Luckily, work had pushed them together, and they’d become fast friends.

  Piper still couldn’t quite believe it. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d really liked a guy and misread the situation. “So if he’s interested in me…”

  “Then talk to him. Flirt. Do something that will encourage him.” Jodie set her dress on the bed and started stripping out of her clothes. Piper fetched her own dress box and set it on the bed before undressing as well. Jodie had talked her into a dress she never would’ve picked normally, but since the company was paying her expenses, well, why not?

  She was down to her black bra and panties by the time Jodie was dressed and ready.

  “Hurry up.” Jodie slipped on her black stilettos and checked the time on her slender wristwatch. “We’ve got half an hour before people start arriving, and I wanted to have a drink with Mr. Thorne. He’s such a dear.”

  “I still need to put on some makeup. I’ll meet you downstairs,” Piper replied.

  “Okay.” Jodie smiled at her, then paused by the door. “He’s going to come tonight, and you’re going to look amazing. Trust me, Piper. I have a good feeling about this.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Piper carefully removed her dress from the box. It was made of dark reddish-purple silk, the color of burgundy in firelight. The skirt was full from the waist down, and the hem was trimmed with black lace. It was nothing like what she’d normally wear to a party. A simple black cocktail dress usually worked, but she had taken one look at this in the store window at Harrods and swooned. It was sexy but not slinky, more like something Grace Kelly would have worn than Audrey Hepburn.

  Piper stepped into the gown and shimmied it up her hips. Then she slipped her arms into the short sleeves and zipped it up to her lower back. Normally she felt awkward in fancy clothes, but tonight felt different. The dress was perfectly tailored, and she couldn’t resist peeping at her reflection in the mirror. The dark cherrywood-framed mirror in the corner of the room reflected a cool, brown-haired seductress. She bit her lip and smiled before putting on her makeup. It felt so different from the way she usually looked. Her dress was alluring, miles away from a boring black business suit.

  Maybe tonight would be special after all. Piper fetched her black pumps and leaned against the bed to put them on. Her stomach gave another nervous flip as she exited the room and headed toward the staircase. She paused at the top when she realized guests had started to arrive early.

  The reception hall was filled with at least a dozen people in suits and cocktail dresses. Jodie was already engaged with some of the guests; she was a complete natural in social situations. Footmen bearing trays of champagne floated among the crowd. The glow of the chandeliers illuminated the bubbling gold liquid in the glasses.

  Piper soaked up the moment. She’d come a long way since she’d been a kid in Boston, studying hard instead of going out. Nights like tonight had seemed impossible. Something to daydream about, not experience. She’d come from a middle-class home and had to scrimp and save to get to college. Now it felt like her entire life had led to this moment. She rarely stopped to pat herself on the back, but tonight was a good night to take pride in her achievements.

  I earned this. With a smile, she took a step down the stairs, then froze. Two men had just come in the front door. Jodie gave a squeal of delight and approached one of the men, who immediately tucked her arm in his, and they walked deeper into the house, leaving the other man alone. He lifted his gaze as though Piper had called his name.

  Mikhail Barinov.

  Those green eyes of his almost glowed as he stared at her. For a second Piper panicked. Should she smile? Wave? What was the sexy, casual thing for a woman to do in this situation? God, she wished she were naturally flirty like Jodie. But no, she was awkward and nervous.

  When neither of them moved for several long seconds, Piper tried to remember how to breathe. Everything around her seemed to blur at the edges, as though she were trapped in a dream. The sharp light from the chandeliers softened to a golden haze. Her blood pounded in her ears.

  Mikhail had the raw, unadulterated look of a man who was picturing a woman without her clothes on. There was the barest hint of darkness there, too, which reminded her again of a predator and that she was his prey. Rather than be upset, Piper’s skin burned at the thought of Mikhail looking her over and liking what he saw. The slow curve of his lips sent her heart skittering.

  And then he broke the spell that had kept her rooted to the floor by turning away. Before she knew it, he had slipped into the crowd and vanished. Again. The man had a knack for disappearing.

  “Ms. Linwood,” Mr. Thorne called out to her from the bottom of the stairs. She recovered herself and rushed down to join him.

  “Smashing. You look smashing, my dear. I’m glad your friend insisted on taking you shopping.” The old Englishman chuckled and offered her an arm to escort her.

  A blush heated her skin, but she was pleased to hear the compliment. “Thank you, Mr. Thorne.”

  “This way,” he said as they cut through the throngs of people gathering in the large room.

  The jewels that had been set up that afternoon at the museum were now on display in the main small ballroom on various daises beneath protective glass. Piper searched for Mikhail and saw him fixed on a display of ruby bracelets. The red and gold of the jewelry gleamed against the black cloth on which they lay. Once again there was a glint of recognition in Mikhail’s eyes that didn’t make sense as he stared at the jewels.

  “Curious fellow,” Thorne murmured next to her.

  “Oh?” she asked just as softly.

  “He seems most interested in the jewels, and he…” The old man shook his head, erasing whatever errant thought had strayed into his mind.

  “Mr. Thorne, could I trouble you for some champagne?” She hated to impose upon his good nature, especially with an ulterior motive at play, but she was hoping to get a minute alone with Mikhail. It was silly, but she wanted to see if he would talk to her again.

  “Of course.” Thorne patted her hand and wandered off in search of a waiter. She composed herself, painted a cool smile on her face, and readied herself to greet him. When she turned back to Mikhail, she growled in frustration. He was gone. Again. She whipped her head around, searching for him, and caught a glimpse of him exiting through a door at the opposite side of the room.

  Don’t follow him. Piper ignored her inner voice and slipped after him through the crowds. Perhaps she should have heeded the voice in her head, but that voice had kept her living a lonely, bored life. Boring meant not getting her heart broken. Boring was safe. It was long past time she did something dangerous.
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  She found Mikhail in a small drawing room next to the reception hall. He stood before a fireplace in the dark as if he belonged there. His lean, strong figure and the dark navy-blue suit were lit by flames. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound far too loud in the soft silence of the darkened room. Piper sucked in a breath, watching the shadows play on his dark hair as he turned to her.

  “Piper.” The word was a silken caress that was straight out of her darkest fantasies. Even though there was a good distance between them, she could hear him clearly, his voice seeming to come at her from all sides thanks to the acoustics of the room.

  “Mr. Barinov,” she whispered so softly that there was no way he could hear it. But she swore she saw his lips twitch in the dim, shifting, gold-vermilion light.

  “Straying off the map into unknown territory, are we?” He chuckled as though it was some private joke. “Here there be dragons.”

  Piper stared at him. “I followed because…” Why had she followed him? Because he was like the damn Pied Piper for women who had tall, dark, sexy stranger fantasies.

  “You followed because you can’t stop thinking about it.” That voice poured over her like molasses, and she could feel a delicious burn grow in her belly.

  “Thinking about what?” She didn’t move, remaining by the door. But he did.

  Mikhail walked toward her with a grace that seemed more panther than human. Her pulse spiked when he stopped mere inches from her. The firelight made the blue of his suit appear to be a dark, rich brown as he placed a hand on the closed door behind her and leaned in. The minty smell of his breath, warm and fresh, fanned her face, and his eyes, although out of view of the fire, seemed to burn with light—gold light.

  “You are thinking about…” He moved closer, his lips a hair’s breadth from her now. “This.”

  Her heart exploded as he slanted his mouth over hers. Waves of electric, pulsing pleasure at that exquisite kiss sent her head spinning. It was like curling up by the fire on a cold winter’s night and putting a glass of warm brandy to her lips, with a slow burn followed by a powerful rush seconds later.

  Piper moaned against him as he slipped his tongue between her lips to stroke hers. She was already curling her arms around his neck, dragging him closer. Mikhail pressed his body flush to hers against the door. He was so tall, a daunting wall of muscle, frightening and exciting all at once. He was a man who could take her without asking. The thought, as forbidden as it was, only made her hotter and wetter than she’d ever been before. She should have been ashamed of such thoughts, but in that moment she couldn’t be. There was too much pleasure in this kiss, too much exhilaration in her surrender to it. She didn’t want it to end, didn’t want the distant sounds of the party to intrude upon this perfect unplanned adventure. It would likely never happen again.

  He deepened the kiss, his mouth consuming hers with a fire that left her giddy. And then something happened—strange flickers of images flashed across her closed eyelids. Not her imagination, which had been fixed on Mikhail’s animalistic appetite. This was something else.

  Men in doublets approaching a throne, a queen with a pale face and red hair, pearls glistening on the bodice of her gown. Then the images changed, a roaring sea beneath her, icy water crashing against a distant shore, a deep loneliness that seemed only to grow until…

  She saw herself at the exhibit. Saw herself through his eyes, a beacon of color and life drawing him toward her like a moth to a flame. She could feel his heart jolt, his body hum to life as he zeroed in on her. It felt as though he would never look away from her ever again. It was seductive, powerful, frightening, and yet she embraced the rush of emotions that came from him.

  What…how…?

  He broke the kiss to nip at her throat, and she tilted her head back to let his exploration continue. “It’s as though you were made just for me, moya sud’ba.”

  The way he said the words made her shiver. “What’s moya sud’ba?” she asked.

  “My destiny,” he growled, his eyes bright. “I should have known the moment we first met.” He inhaled again. “Even the way you smell, sweet and wild like Fire Hill flowers.”

  “Fire Hill flowers?” she said in a haze. His clothes were still warm from the fire, and even his skin was hot to the touch.

  “The wildflowers from my home. The Fire Hills of Russia. They are soft and sweet, not too much, just…” He kissed behind her ear. “Right.”

  She blushed, unable to stop smiling. “I smell like wildflowers?”

  He made a deep-throated purr against the column of her throat, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. “And your taste,” he continued in a husky whisper as he kissed her again.

  This was madness to be kissing a stranger in a darkened room lit only by firelight. What else could you call it? But she was tired of being boring old predictable Piper. Mikhail made her feel wild and reckless, alive in ways she’d never dreamed. She didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to go back to being responsible. She wanted to live in this moment forever.

  “What about my taste?” she asked, her voice trembling with desire.

  Mikhail stared down at her and slid his hand into her hair at the nape of her neck, his fingers coiling the strands tight. A slight pinch of near pain shot sparks into her womb. Piper gasped.

  “It’s like the sweetest of Georgian wines. It lingers upon my tongue until I ache to become drunk on it.” He nuzzled her cheek, his breath echoing hers in quick pants.

  All they were doing was kissing, yet it felt like a wildfire had burst to life inside her, and there was no stopping the coming inferno.

  “You are to be my ruination.” He nipped her bottom lip, and she whimpered.

  Maybe this was all some fantastical dream. If it was, she didn’t want to wake up anytime soon. She was kissing a man who made her see things, impossible things, and she felt…wild. She felt strong, as though the woman she’d always wanted to be was suddenly within her reach, as if he’d unlocked something deep within her. She wouldn’t be able to go back to the cool, collected woman she once was. He’d breathed fire into her body, and she wanted the blaze to keep burning bright into the night.

  The clang of a platter against the wood floor on the other side of the door made them jump apart. But the heat between them didn’t evaporate. Far from it. Mikhail cleared his throat and brushed his hands down his suit. He smiled and ran his fingers once more through her hair, this time to detangle the mess his exploring hands had made.

  “We should return to the party,” he said. But neither of them moved. Then he glanced around. “Are you staying at the auction house tonight, or do you have a hotel?”

  A hint of hunger gleamed in his eyes, warning her that if she answered correctly, this situation could be continued somewhere far more private. The old Piper would have shied away from something so reckless, but the new Piper was ready to take a leap of faith and see where a night with Mikhail would lead.

  “I…well, I have a hotel, but I promised Mr. Thorne I would stay late to discuss a few of the pieces with him. He said I could sleep in one of the spare rooms if I needed to.”

  God, she was rambling, wasn’t she? Cringing, she tried to flash what she hoped was a seductive smile. She never had much luck with that sort of thing, but she was trying her best. If she had the chance to spend one night in this man’s bed, it was a risk she wanted to take.

  Mikhail feathered his lips over hers in a final lingering ghost of a kiss before he whispered in her ear, “Wait for me here tonight.” Then he gently shifted her away from the door and opened it, slipping back into the hall and down to the main room, where someone was giving a speech. Piper stayed put, counting the seconds and the steady but rapid beat of her heart.

  When she finally entered the ballroom, she went unnoticed by the crowds. Prospective bidders were focused on the collection of amethysts and lapis lazuli that were gathered on a display table, arranged with purple mums to bring out the natural colors of the gems. Piper loo
ked over the tops of the heads in the crowd, trying to see where Mikhail had gone, but there was no trace of him. Her heart sank with disappointment. She’d hoped he would stay.

  “Ms. Linwood!” a reedy voice greeted her, and her shoulders tensed. She forced herself to turn and face Bartholomew Winston. He had been the curator of the jewel exhibit while the hoard had been at the Victoria and Albert Museum. He was a pudgy little man of thirty-four years with a thinning patch of hair and thick black glasses with harsh frames that slightly magnified his eyes.

  “Hello, Mr. Winston.” After spending just a few breathless moments with a man like Mikhail, she didn’t want someone like Bartholomew to ruin her memories.

  “Barty, please.” He gave a conspiratorial wink that made her feel claustrophobic. In the last week, he’d made it more than clear he wanted to date her, even suggesting that he might be able to further her career with his extensive contacts, and she’d had to turn him down every time. But he still didn’t take the hint.

  “Right.” She slid a step to the side, still searching for Mikhail.

  Barty reached out and caught her hand, jerking her to a halt. “I was hoping to talk with you about your evaluation process.”

  “My evaluation process?” she asked, only half listening.

  “Yes. You see, I’m most fascinated by it. I’m a student of history and have long researched the history of Cheapside in London. The process and the presence of goldsmiths in Cheapside—”

  “You’ll have to excuse me, Barty. I really need to speak with my colleague.” She offered him a hasty smile and rushed toward Jodie and the man who’d arrived with Mikhail.

  “Jodie!” She greeted her friend in relief.

  “Hey! Piper, this is Randolph Belishaw. He’s one of the biggest patrons of the Victoria and Albert Museum.”

  “Hi.” She smiled at the handsome Englishman. There was something about him, a hint of danger that felt familiar.

  “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Linwood. Jodie has been telling me all about you.” Belishaw’s cultured English tones were almost as enticing as the rough and foreign edge of Mikhail’s Russian accent.