by Juniper Hart
“Dragons?” Max chuckled. “Sounds positively science fiction. Or do you mean the komodo type dragons?”
Poet’s eyes narrowed, despising the mocking tone of his voice. “Never mind,” she snapped hotly. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“No, wait, I’m—” Max shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of it. I want to understand!”
Poet glared at him for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction for sincerity.
“This is why I don’t tell anyone about my research,” she muttered, and Max’s face grew contrite.
“I wasn’t trying to discount your field of study, truly,” he mumbled softly. “I am just perplexed. Dragons don’t exist.”
“They do!” Poet exploded, and several patrons paused their meals to stare at her disapprovingly. “Sorry,” she apologized, casting her face downward in embarrassment. “I just hate not being taken seriously.”
“I’m taking you very seriously,” Max replied, slipping toward the end of his chair to show he was hanging off her every word. “Tell me what you’ve learned.”
Poet took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled, realizing that he genuinely wanted to hear what she had found.
“Since the beginning of recorded time,” she started, “there have been allusions to dragons among us. From Hindu mythology to ancient Mesopotamia, there are stories of serpent-like creatures who evolved from the waters and sprouted wings. In eastern culture, they are revered as sage beings,” Poet explained in a low voice. “It always made me wonder how cultures spread so far apart in those times could have such similar depictions and tales about such beasts.”
“In those days, people had little other than their imagination to keep them entertained,” Max offered, but Poet barely heard him.
“There had to be a common link, something at least some of these ancient civilizations had come across, and I wanted to learn more about it,” she continued. “So, I began to research them, how they could exist, what they could be, if there was even a possible genetic mutation on the evolutionary scale for such a phenomenon.”
Even though Max remained silent, Poet could see he was taking in her words carefully.
“Almost three years ago, scientists uncovered a fifty-foot ‘dragon’ dinosaur in Hong Kong, which they believed walked about 160-million years ago.”
“Don’t you mean ‘flew’?” Max quipped.
Poet offered him a wry smile. “Yes,” she agreed. “I do.”
The server reappeared with their drinks and poured the champagne for them in goblets while they silently watched.
“Are you ready to order?” she asked. “I can go over the specialties tonight if—”
“We just need a few more minutes,” Max interjected. “Please.”
“Of course.” The waitress disappeared through the maze of tables, and Max turned his attention back to her.
“How does all of this pertain to your thesis? You are trying to determine the existence of dragons a hundred million years ago?”
Poet shook her head, leaning in closer to him, her blue eyes huge. “No, no,” she whispered. “I have followed the evolution of dragons from sea serpents to winged beasts and back down to earth again.”
“You think they live off in caves somewhere in the alps?” Max asked, and Poet could hear the skepticism in his voice.
“No,” she answered quietly. “They have evolved in their environment.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that dragons literally walk among us every day with the ability to shift back and forth from reptile to human.”
Max’s mouth dropped open. “How can that be, Poet?” he gasped, his face growing pale. “That’s scientifically impossible.”
“No,” Poet protested. “It’s not. I have spoken with people who can attest to these beings.”
“Credible sources?” Max demanded. “I don’t mean to sound like a doubting Thomas, but there are also people who believe in UFOs.”
“I know where I can find proof!” Poet replied excitedly. “In the north, there is an abandoned kingdom, the castle still kept by an old man and his wife. All of my research tells me that they are sitting on a mountain of evidence that I need to publish my findings.”
Max stared at her, his lips pursing.
“Where is this place?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Well up in the middle of nowhere, really,” she said, “I’ve only been there once.”
“What is it called, Poet?” Max questioned, his voice sharp.
Poet stared at him curiously.
“Misty Woods,” she replied, and she watched as his face crumpled before her eyes. “Do you know it?”
Max lifted his head. “No,” he said flatly. “I don’t believe I do.”
6
I must simply dissuade her by explaining the impossibilities of what she is saying, Maximus decided that night. It seemed like an easy enough task. But as the next few days progressed, he began to realize just how impossible that was going to be.
Maximus became Poet’s shadow, following her to class and escorting her around in his rented car. He needed to learn precisely how she had come to the knowledge about him and his kind.
The more she disclosed to him, the bigger the knot in his stomach grew. She had done her research—there was no question.
“How did you come across this information?” he asked her. “I mean, what inspired you to look for such a thing?”
Poet smiled at him, rolling onto her stomach to kiss his lips sweetly. She curled her naked form into his, their breaths still ragged in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
“You have not stopped asking me about my thesis since the first night we were together,” she said. “I am beginning to think you’re out to steal my work.”
Maximus snorted, his fingertips gracefully tracing the sensual lines of her shoulders.
“You captured my imagination,” he replied, pulling her against his chest to lay her head on his breast. “Who else can claim such an intriguing area of study?”
Poet laughed, draping a leg over his, her thigh grazing his heavy sack as her fingers trailed along his nipple.
“People think I’m crazy,” she told him. “They think I read too much Harry Potter or something.”
“Did you?” Maximus teased, trying to keep his voice light.
“I don’t know why I have always been fascinated with dragons,” Poet answered instead. “I was born in the Chinese year of the dragon.”
“Maybe that’s it,” he agreed, his pulse still thundering.
Even after the week they had spent in one another’s arms, he still could not stop himself from growing dizzy when the conversation arose.
I’m the one who keeps bringing it up, he reminded himself.
“They are so majestic,” Poet continued, her voice taking on an almost dream-like quality as she spoke. “What else in the world is like them?”
“Assuming they exist in the first place,” Maximus piped up.
“You are such a skeptic,” she said with a laugh. “But I will prove it to you this weekend.”
He looked down at her.
“What’s this weekend?” he asked. She shook her head.
“It’s a secret, but I hope you don’t have plans.” Maximus shook his head, glancing at her.
“Have we gotten to a place where you are bossing me around now?” he joked, and Poet giggled, placing another kiss on his lips.
“Considering you haven’t gone home since you arrived on my doorstep five days ago, I think I have earned the right to boss you about some, wouldn’t you say?”
“I know better than to argue with a beautiful woman,” he replied. “In fact, I may even enjoy being bossed around by a beautiful woman.”
“I knew you were smarter than you looked,” she laughed, slipping off the bed.
“Wait!” Maximus called, a flow of blood reclaiming the spot between his thighs. “Where are you off to now?”
“I have class. I thought you might pretend to go to class, too,” she said evenly, and Maximus’ face turned crimson. “I mean, if you’re still going to pretend you’re a sociology student.”
Maximus bit his lip. She called him out on everything.
“One of these days,” she added, “you’re going to have to tell me the truth about who you are and why you’re here.”
“If you’re so convinced I’m not who I say, why do you allow me to stay with you?” he asked. “You seem more streetwise than that, even though you’re a princess.”
Poet stopped and looked at him, her face softening.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” she murmured, meeting his eyes with a smile on her face. “But you do something to me that no one has ever done.”
Maximus smiled. “And yet you don’t trust me.”
Poet’s own smile faded.
“I never said I don’t trust you,” she replied slowly. “In fact, I feel like I trust you more than I have trusted anyone, and I don’t even know your last name.”
“All you had to do is ask,” he said. “It’s Williams.”
Poet’s eyes narrowed at him, and Maximus suddenly felt as if he had told her too much.
“Max Williams,” she said, almost to herself. “How positively British.” She spun toward the bathroom, not waiting for a response, closing the door behind her.
Maximus admitted they had a strange relationship, but it seemed to work somehow. He knew he couldn’t continue to do this. Sooner or later, King Rui would start to wonder what was taking him so long, and if Maximus didn’t get the job done, his father would send someone along who would.
Maximus rose from the sheets of Poet’s bed. He heard the shower turn on, and he pushed his growing hard-on down, knowing that Poet would not succumb to another round with him before class. She took school much too seriously, which was just one more of his many issues.
Why couldn’t she be some college party girl? he thought. That way, at least she could be easily distracted, and I could return home without worry.
Then again, he was glad Poet was nothing like that. She was high-minded, her brain a constant source of stimulating conversation and excitement. Maximus knew the reason he was in a constant state of arousal was because of her intelligence. And her beauty. And her wit.
And her sexy, perfect body, he thought. In fact, there was not one aspect of Poet that did not arouse Maximus at any moment of the day. But that was also proving to be his undoing. He still had no plan to deter her from pursuing her thesis, and in truth, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop her, even if he wanted to.
Poet was stubborn and proud, and there was nothing Maximus could say or do that would make her change her mind.
He was on a rollercoaster of highs and lows, wanting to enjoy every exquisite minute he had with her yet knowing it was fleeting all at the same time.
He also knew he was procrastinating. He had not been back to Ansel’s once since returning to Oxford, and while his brother had sent him sporadic texts, Maximus had purposely ignored them. After all, he had nothing to report. At least, nothing that Ansel wanted to hear.
Naked, Maximus strolled from the bedroom into the living room, where Chauncey was sprawled on the sofa. The dog bared his teeth in greeting but made no sound nor effort to move as Maximus sat at the laptop on the dining room table.
He and the canine had reached a happy understanding of staying out of each other’s way, and so far, it had worked. Chauncey had made no attempt to take another chunk out of him, and Maximus’ gouges had healed within hours of the attack. He still maintained the bandage over his hand, lest his ever-observant lover note that he had superhuman healing abilities. It was not something he could easily explain away.
Maximus flipped open the computer and typed in Poet’s password, which she had freely given to him the very first day they spent together. She suspected him, and yet she also trusted him. What he wouldn’t give to spend five minutes in that woman’s mind…
As the home screen came into play, Maximus felt his blood run cold. Google Maps was open, the route to Misty Woods displayed almost obscenely before his eyes.
Oh, shit, he realized, horrified. That’s where she wants to take me this weekend.
A knock on the door made him jump guiltily, and Chauncey howled in protest.
“Princess! Princess, please open the door! This is the King’s Guard.”
Maximus could still hear the shower going in the master bedroom, and the Cocker Spaniel continued wailing as the knocks grew more intense.
“Please open the door, or I will be forced to break it down!”
Maximus jumped to his feet and rushed into the bedroom.
“Poet, your security is at the door!” he yelled to her. “They’re threatening to break it down!”
“What the hell?” she cried. “Answer it and ask them what they want!”
“Princess!” the guard at the door screamed. “This is your last warning!”
“Dammit, Max, if they break down my door, I’m holding you responsible!” she yelled. “Go answer the damned door!”
Forgetting he wore not a stitch of clothing, Maximus sprinted into the living room and threw open the door.
“What the hell is going—?”
He was unable to finish his question—two men pinned him against the wall, spreading his legs apart.
“Who are you?” one demanded. “Where is the princess?”
“She’s in the shower!” Maximus growled. “Let go of me!”
“Hold him there,” said the other one.
“If you bust in on her while she’s in the shower, so help me God, I will kill you both on the spot,” Maximus promised. He didn’t have to look to feel their venomous looks.
“You and who else, Atlas?”
Poet turned the corner into the living room, cinching a robe at her waist.
“What the hell are you doing in my flat?” she raged at the two men.
Despite the circumstances, Maximus could not help but note how sensual she looked, her blonde tresses dripping along the red terrycloth material.
“Forgive us, Princess!” the guard who had been pounding on the door groaned, spinning around to look away from his half-naked charge. “We received word that your life is endangered.”
“Word from whom?” Poet snarled. “Unhand him immediately!”
The guard at Maximus’ back released him, and Maximus spun to stare at the men.
“Who is this man, Princess?” the other guard asked. “How do you know him?”
“I want to know where you got this information!” Poet yelled. “Now that you have not only threatened my guest, but also invaded my privacy, I am asking the questions here! My father will hear about this!”
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” said one of the guards, “but King Henry is the one who has sent us.”
“This is ridiculous!” Poet snapped. “Did you tell him I had a man in my flat? Is that what this is about?”
“Your Highness, I am not sure—”
“You’re not sure, and yet you break into my house and accost us while we’re naked?” she roared.
Maximus had never seen a woman so incensed, and he could not stop himself from growing harder with each word she spoke.
“We need to check your residence,” the second guard croaked, but there was little conviction in his tone.
“You need to get the hell out of my flat,” Poet told him, her voice suddenly very quiet.
Oh, that can’t be good, Maximus thought, watching the men as they exchanged a glance. They seemed to recognize the same thing.
“Princess—”
“You have three seconds to remove yourselves from my sight,” she ordered. “One, two—”
“Forgive us for the misunderstanding, Your Highness.” The men disappeared into the hall, leaving Poet to slam the door behind them, her blue eyes flashing with fury.
“Oh, my father,” she muttered, her face red with humiliation.
She turned her attention to Maximus, her eyes apologetic. “I am so sorry,” she mumbled. “They’ve never done anything like this before.”
“They are just doing their job,” Maximus replied, striding toward her to embrace her trembling body. It was obvious she was furious, but he was less so. At least he knew that the guards were paying attention, even if they were days late.
If Father does decide to come for Poet himself, he told himself, at least we will be forewarned, even if it will do little to deter the inevitable from happening.
“Excuse me,” Poet growled, stepping out of his powerful hug. “I have a phone call to make.”
“Go easy on your father,” Maximus chuckled. “You’re his only daughter, after all. He has every right to be worried about you.”
Poet paused and looked at him. “Do you have a father?” she asked.
Maximus laughed. “Doesn’t everyone have a father?”
“Is he like mine?”
“He’s worse,” he assured her. “And I have five brothers who will attest to the same. Thankfully, we had no sisters, or I can only imagine what he would be like.”
He had always been thankful for not having a sister. She certainly would have had it the worst.
Poet stared at him for a long moment, and again, Maximus wondered what she was thinking.
“Five brothers,” she said. “Me too.”
Maximus returned her gaze, a now-familiar flutter starting in his stomach. We’re both descendants of royalty, both with five brothers. Maybe that is why we have such a strong bond.
He tried to force the thought out of his mind. He didn’t need any more reasons to feel connected to Poet. The ones he already had were causing him enough of a problem.
“I hope you didn’t intimidate them,” she commented, her gaze falling down over his naked chest, and Maximus snorted.
“I don’t think I had the upper hand in this case,” he replied flippantly. Poet gestured at his still-hard erection, a smile forming on her perfectly shaped mouth.
“I have a feeling neither one of them will feel adequate again after seeing that,” she said, giggling before spinning toward the landline on the end table. “Don’t get dressed!” she called out to him, her fingers dialing rapidly. “I just remembered there’s something I’d like to do to you before class.”