by Ophelia Bell
Which was why he fucking needed his cock to behave right now so he could get into his goddamn pants. He’d take all the little victories he could get in exchange for letting go of that one big one. His own mate would just have to wait a little while longer.
At least there was no way Bryer could fly back down to dinner, not unless he planned to show up half-dressed. Ignazio sprinted across the landing outside his room and down the staircase, keeping awareness on his periphery and the staircase that led down from the opposite wing. The open dining room was at the center of the house, adjacent to the foyer, and he had a few steps of advantage on his side.
But as he closed in, the delicious aromas drifting in from the kitchen obliterated everything else. His mouth watered, his hungry stomach pulling him toward the source like he was caught in a tractor beam. He’d completely forgotten about the race when he crossed through the wide archway into the dining room.
Then she was there, and he was struck dumb.
“Hi!” she said, looking up from lighting a candle. She was dressed in a plain white shirt and black skirt. Both fit snugly and did nothing to conceal her voluptuous curves. Her blonde hair was pinned up in a twist with wispy tendrils framing her pink cheeks.
“Smells delicious,” he said, realizing he hadn’t responded to her greeting. He took another step toward the table. “I’m Ignazio. You must be Nessa’s replacement … Pomona, is it?”
“The one and only,” she said with a smile. “And I take it you’re Bryer?”
Ignazio blinked at her in confusion until he realized she wasn’t looking at him, but past him. Adrenaline flooded through him as he came to his senses.
“Fuck.”
He lurched forward, hurriedly grabbing at a chair just as Bryer’s swift steps sounded behind him. His ass hit the cushion just a split-second before Bryer rounded the table and made it to his own chair.
“Hah! You lose, fucker!” He gave his friend a shit-eating grin.
“Excuse me?” Bryer said, affecting an air of bewilderment as he pulled out his chair and unhurriedly sat. To Pomona, Bryer said, “You’ll have to forgive Ignazio. He’s a little enthusiastic when it comes to his meals.” And then the ass winked at him.
Pomona was standing back, looking a little shell-shocked at their sudden appearance. She blinked, then laughed. “I see. Well, if you’ll just allow me to finish lighting the candles, I’ll have dinner served tout de suite.”
She proceeded to bend over in front of him, putting flame to wick. The collar of her plain white blouse spread open with the weight of her breasts, the creamy white flesh of both gorgeous globes clearly visible. Ignazio’s dragon coiled and tensed just as his cock roused again at the sight. He grabbed his napkin and draped it over his lap.
How the fuck was he going to hold off having her?
He nearly groaned out loud when she turned to go back through the kitchen doors. Her narrow waist accented her wide hips and deliciously ample shape of her ass in her tight skirt.
Of course he would be forced to look and not touch. Karma fucking hated him lately.
“Don’t even think it,” Bryer said in a low growl. “Remember the bet … keep it in your pants unless she’s your mate. She isn’t your mate.”
Ignazio’s gaze shot to his friend. He was about to argue the point, but quickly recovered his senses. “I know,” he lied. “I can still appreciate a beauty like her from afar, can’t I? Besides, I’d no sooner bed her than I would Nessa. Don’t shit where you eat, and all that.”
Except if it weren’t for Bryer, there was no way in hell he’d hold back, even if it meant going hungry.
They both shut their mouths and turned when she came back through the doors, her beautiful backside leading the way as she balanced a pair of heavily laden trays. Ignazio watched her, completely enthralled by every move she made as she served them. When she was done, she stood back and straightened up, nodding at them formally.
“Dinner is served, gentlemen. And if you’re both members of the clean plate club when I come back, I have a dessert that is to die for!”
Her light brown eyes sparkled and she spun back around and hurried through the doors again, leaving Ignazio too stunned to do more than dig in. The immense feast she’d just served was roughly double what they needed, but there was no way in hell he’d disappoint her and not earn that dessert.
9
Bryer’s tastebuds were in heaven. With every bite he took, he cursed silently. The perfect woman had walked into his life at the exact worst time. How could he fucking survive being so close to her, being fed the most delicious food he’d ever had, yet still know he couldn’t have her?
At least, not yet … No doubt Pomona had been debriefed by Nessa and his doctors, so she knew how crucial his diet was in his continued recovery. If every meal she crafted was anything like this one, something had to start working soon. He could taste the abundant spices she’d included in this meal. The meat was coated in it, the vegetables infused with subtle hints of different herbs, and it all just made him want more. Not just more of the food, but also more of her.
That was the worst part. That he wanted so much, but his body just wasn’t ready for it. After seeing her, he’d sensed his dragon rousing for more than just the ongoing competition he had with Ignazio. Keeping up with his partner always drove him to win, but that wasn’t enough lately, especially not with Ignazio lagging behind due to his own issues.
When Bryer had gotten into the shower, he had felt the strange new craving deep in his dragon’s soul—the foreign, yet unmistakable sense that she was the one. He’d gripped his cock then, soaping himself and picturing her, hoping that the mere image of her in his mind would work—that somehow simply finding her would magically make him potent again.
His cock had hardened only slightly from the friction, but that was it, and he’d wound up uninterested in beating Ignazio down to the dining room. Still, his friend needed a kick in the pants, so he went, making sure to time his arrival just right, and it seemed to have worked.
At least one of them was truly enjoying this meal—Pomona deserved it for her spectacular effort. But the more he ate, the more demoralized he felt over his body’s continued failure to respond.
He should be more patient, he knew. But how could he when she was right there? The fucking bet was in the bag for him, but he couldn’t justify claiming her as his mate if he couldn’t properly mate her.
The sick feeling in his gut grew too large for him to ignore. He pushed his plate away, his meal half-eaten.
Ignazio pointed his fork at him. Around a mouthful of food, he said, “You heard the lady. Only members of the clean plate club get dessert.”
With a sad smile, Bryer nodded. “I guess I’m out of luck, then. Apologize for me, will you? I’m just beat … Gonna head to bed, I think.”
“Suit yourself, man,” Ignazio said with a shrug, already reaching for Bryer’s leftovers.
That was a good sign, at least. Maybe having Ignazio back on his game would help give his own dragon the push it needed to rise to the challenge.
As he walked back up the stairs to his room, his skin felt too tight. This body of his was what didn’t work. At least as the dragon he could fly and forget about the injuries for a time.
The second he got through the door, he stripped, leaving a trail of clothes along the floor on the way to his balcony. Once there, he shifted and launched himself up into the night sky, waiting until his wings were stretched to their limit before letting out a deafening roar. Some of his frustration eased with that outburst. With luck, by the time he made it back in, he’d feel better.
10
The clean plate club? What the fuck was she smoking?
Pomona buried her face in her hands and groaned. She’d made a fool of herself repeatedly since she’d arrived. She just hoped her employers could forgive the ridiculous commentary and awkward reactions. She should have had the table set before they arrived, for one thing, but had taken forever findin
g the damn lighter for the candles.
She reached for the empty mixing bowl, the contents of which were now divided between two beautiful crystal goblets. This was the dessert that had gotten her the job, so it seemed fitting that she served it first.
Why did she have to attach a condition to their dessert? It wasn’t like they couldn’t have whatever the hell they wanted, whenever they wanted. Nessa had said that during arena competition season, she stayed in the house and would get up at all hours to cook for them after their late-night training flights between matches.
She’d also said that it would be a challenge making sure the pair stuck to their diets, which meant making sure they finished what they were served. Every dish was carefully crafted with their performance in mind, no ingredients wasted. This was why she’d loved the idea of this job so much.
Even this delicious dessert of hers was filled with nutrients they needed—the chocolate and spices just the right mix to help both Ignazio’s insomnia and Bryer’s … well, she didn’t want to dwell too much on Bryer’s issues. Nessa had been clear that neither man would respond well if confronted directly about the underlying problems they had, so their regular chef had carefully begun to adjust her recipes to account for them, too. When she’d briefed Pomona, she explained that the heavily spiced meats were Ignazio’s favorites, while the sweet desserts were the best way to get Bryer to consume the necessary therapeutic remedies—the things their dragons responded to best.
Dipping her finger into the bowl, she swiped it around the interior, coating it with the creamy mousse. She stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked, groaning in pleasure at the burst of flavor. She’d outdone herself this time. Either that, or the ingredients on this planet really were that much better than the stuff she could get on Earth.
When she opened her eyes, her heart lurched into her throat. The huge figure of the red-eyed one was standing just inside the kitchen doors, giving her the strangest look … like he wanted to taste her.
Suddenly it occurred to her that she’d fucked up again.
“Oh! I am so sorry. You guys are finished. I will be right there with dessert. Do you need anything else? More wine?” She rushed around, tidying up and setting the desserts on a tray.
“Nothing but dessert,” Ignazio said. “Except Bryer asked me to give you his regrets. He is going to forego the treat. He didn’t even finish his supper.”
She stopped and stared at him, then closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I didn’t mean what I said. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t make sure he was served everything on the menu for the night. Did you two get enough to eat?”
Then the underlying intimation of what he’d said occurred to her.
“He didn’t finish … was there anything wrong with it?”
Ignazio leaned back against the wall beside the kitchen doors and seemed to be observing her preparations with amusement. He shook his head. “I can’t speak for him, but you certainly managed to satisfy most of our needs. You know during the off-season we actually don’t need to eat that much. Not that I’m complaining—every last bite was delicious.”
The way his red eyes stayed fixed on her so intently made her skin flush. It was going to be hard getting used to being in the same room with these men. She kept her gaze fixed on the tray where she’d arranged a fresh pot of the herbal tea Nessa had recommended, along with the desserts and a pair of spoons.
“I’ll just take this to him, then. If he’s not feeling well, at least the tea should help. Will you show me where his room is?”
Ignazio didn’t answer immediately. The air between them thickened with some strange tension Pomona couldn’t decipher. She looked at him and raised her brows.
“Well? Will you?”
Ignazio seemed oddly frozen as though by indecision. With a jerk of his head, he nodded and turned.
“Ah … sure … yeah, follow me.” He pushed through the swinging door and stood with his back pressed against it, holding it open for her.
Pomona lifted the tray. Passing through the door felt like walking by an open flame. Maybe it was all in her head, but the man radiated pure heat. Her head buzzed from the proximity to his body, her upper arm nearly brushing against the bulging bulk of his chest and the snug, knit shirt he wore. He even smelled hot—like spices that would burn so deliciously if they landed on her tongue. God, the recipes she would craft if she could bottle that scent for flavoring.
She swallowed, struggling to banish the sudden image she had of the sweat-covered tower of muscle she’d seen in the gym earlier lying on a bed and allowing her to lick him all over.
Get it together, Pomona. He’s your boss.
She gripped the tray tighter and paused once she passed him, waiting for him to lead the way …
… and nearly whimpered at the way his ass flexed in his trousers as he walked.
She hadn’t counted on landing a job with a pair of celebrities so gorgeous and athletic. It wasn’t even about their celebrity status here, either … not to her. On Earth, she’d wondered if she’d wind up too star-struck by her client to do her job well, should she ever succeed in getting hired for her dream job. But it wasn’t something that ever really worried her. She was a professional, after all.
But there was something about this man … both men … that just sent her mind spinning whenever she was in the same room with them.
She was here to do a job, she kept reminding herself. Part of that job was to make sure both these perfect male specimens were well cared for. Did that make her a sort of dragon-keeper, in a sense? Huh … maybe when her six months were up, she could write a cookbook: The Care and Feeding of Nova Aurora Arena Champions.
Hah. That was ridiculous.
“Did you say something?” Ignazio asked, pausing halfway up a staircase to look back at her.
Pomona stopped with one foot on the next step and stared at him. Fuck, she’d laughed out loud, hadn’t she?
“Um, no … I was just … you know, making up new recipes in my head.”
Ignazio chuckled and started climbing again. “You make up many recipes designed for humor? I’d like to taste one. What goes in it?”
“Oh, the usual …” A teaspoon of whatever that delicious scent of yours is. “That’s nice cologne you’re wearing, by the way. Is it the essence of some plant that grows on this planet?”
“I don’t wear cologne. It confuses Bryer’s animal when we train. We need to be able to scent each other in the arena.”
She paused on the steps, baffled by his response. Men were not supposed to smell that good. He kept walking.
“So, that’s all you, then, huh?” she murmured to herself when she thought he was out of earshot. Moving faster to catch up, she reached the landing where Ignazio was standing, grinning at her.
“You like my scent?”
“Um … sure! Of course! What’s not to like?” she stammered.
“Yours is nice, too,” he said. He leaned down then, his broad shoulders and chest filling her vision as he dipped his head to her neck and inhaled deeply.
Pomona stood frozen in place, her heart racing. Her awareness filled completely with him—that spicy scent; the black waves of his hair that from this close looked shot through with radiant copper strands; the searing heat that didn’t cease and made her hope her shower had an “ice” setting on it. And god, the slightest brush of his nose against her throat that instantly made her panties wet.
“Good enough to eat,” he rumbled as he leaned back again. For a guy who’d just eaten enough food to feed ten men on Earth, he’d taken on a distinctly hungry look.
A little shiver of pleasure rippled through her body as he turned again and strode along the landing to a door at the far end. He rapped twice with his knuckles, then opened it.
“Bry, you don’t get to bail on dessert it turns out. So we brought it to you …”
He pushed through, and for a second, the inside of the room was completely blocked by hi
s large body. When he stepped aside, Pomona stopped in her tracks. On the other side of the room, a stark naked and extremely irritated Bryer glared at his friend.
“What the fuck? I called it a night. I need to rest …” His objections trailed off when his gaze fell on her. His expression shifted to surprise, and then he flushed as he reached for a garment hanging over the footboard of a huge bed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he said, bending to slip on a pair of pajama pants. “Come in.”
Pomona gaped for a second, then hurriedly averted her gaze, but not before she got an impressive eyeful of every inch of his ripped physique.
“No … it’s all right. I just wanted to make sure you two had your dessert. Doctor’s orders, right? I mean, who wouldn’t want a doctor who ordered them to eat the way you guys eat? I sure as hell would love it, if my ass wasn’t already big enough as it is.”
She scurried over to the only surface she could see, which was a small table by the window with two chairs positioned near it. Setting the tray down, she stepped back and gave Bryer a quick smile.
He didn’t smile back. Instead, he licked his lips, but the focus of his eager look wasn’t the dose of chocolate heaven she’d just served. He was looking at her, and somehow, it made her even hotter than Ignazio’s look had.
“I’ll just go, then … You two enjoy!” She started backing toward the door, feeling a little like a mouse that had just been cornered by a cat. Her back hit something hard and solid, and oh-so warm and delicious-smelling.
“Why not stay and share with us?” Ignazio asked, his hands sliding up her arms and gently squeezing.
“Th-there’s only two servings.”
“You made more than enough—like I said, we don’t need so much food during the off-season.”
In front of her, Bryer nodded and stepped toward the table. He pulled out a chair and beckoned to it. “I insist. You went to the trouble of bringing it to me. Sit and enjoy it with us.”