by Mina Carter
He shoved her through narrow corridors lit with flickering bulbs to a bedroom. Unlike the rest of the house, it was plushly decorated and bright, with a large four-post bed in the center. The bedding was red satin and there was a scrap of white thrown across it. Smith scooped it up and shoved it into her hands.
“Change into this. Your master will be here soon and, believe me, it will go far easier for you if you please him. If not…” He shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve known girls not survive their first encounter with him.”
Smith ran a brothel.
Calan felt sick as he landed in front of the dirty three-story building with its windows looking back at him like soulless, despairing eyes. Almost before his claws had touched down on the asphalt of the road in front, he’d folded his dragon form back inside himself, using his magic to call clothes to cover his body. It was a trick not many other types of shifters could manage, but then dragons were far more creatures of magic than other species of shape-shifters.
This was the place. He drew in a deep breath to confirm it, scenting his princess on the air immediately. She was here, not long ago from the strength of the scent and—his dragon growled in anger—she was terrified.
Storming up the steps to the front door, he didn’t bother with knocking. Instead, he lifted a booted foot and simply kicked the thing down. The wood splintered on impact, wood crashing inward to pepper the hall floor beyond. It crunched underfoot as he walked in.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing? You can’t be in here.” A tall, scrawny man paused in the act of showing another toward the stairs and moved to stop Calan, his long, thin fingers outstretched as though they would be enough to stop over two hundred pounds of heavily muscled, pissed off black dragon… and that was in human form. His eyes narrowed. They really didn’t want to see him pissed off in dragon form. Entire countries would quake seeing him that way.
“The girl you took from the Blaise house,” he bit out. “I want her.”
A light flashed in the back of the thin man’s eyes, the greed easy to read on his face. Instantly, his manner was subservient and accommodating. “Well, I already have a buyer for that one, but I ca—”
“No. I want that one. No other.” Calan did his level best to control his temper, but even so, smoke trickled from his nostrils. A sure sign he was losing his patience.
“Err… well, I’m sure we can come to some…arrangement?” Thin guy wheedled, his words sparking a protest from the man behind him.
“Hey! I’ve already paid for her. He can’t have her!” The growl was deep and gravelly, almost animalistic as the other “customer” emerged from the shadows. He was big, far bigger than Calan was in his human form, and the slight green sheen to his skin told Calan all he needed to know. Troll, or part troll. Big, aggressive and with appetites that would make most people sick to their stomach. Fortunately, they were also usually dumb as rocks. This one seemed no exception as he squared up to Calan.
“I’ll squish you, pretty boy, and then go claim the girl.” The creature cupped its groin and made an obscene gesture. “Blood is the best lube for my cock. Hers or yours, I don’t care which.”
That did it. The thought of this foul creature anywhere near his princess broke the dam on Calan’s control. With a roar, he let loose his fire, shifting his throat just enough that he didn’t burn himself and toasted the troll on the spot. Smith squealed as the flames died down to reveal a man-sized lump of charcoal and then ran for the door, only to run smack-bang into the big forms of Zac and Damian, two of the other blacks on the council. Calan managed a small, tight grin as he spotted their trainees lurking behind them. Sawyer had sent backup.
“Arrest him,” Calan roared, already heading for the stairs. “He’s been trafficking paranormals.”
He didn’t wait around to see what happened, instead taking the stairs three at a time as he followed his princess’ scent. It was stronger here, so strong he could almost feel her in the air. His boots thumped against the threadbare carpet, the scent trail leading him to a door.
Red tinging his vision, he didn’t slow down or stop to knock. Instead, the door got the same treatment as the front door had—his boot, heavily applied. It crashed inward to bounce off the wall, echoed by a small scream of terror. It was the tiniest of sounds, but he heard it, his gaze instantly focused on the bed in the center of the room. His world stopped between one breath and the next.
His princess stood there, half hidden by the post at the foot of the bed. Her delicate fingers were curled in the scarlet brocade as she tried to use it to cover herself. Wide, violet eyes peeked around the edge of the fabric, dark with fear. Instantly, his rage abated, his dragon whining and ready to crawl on its belly toward her. Anything not to scare her any more.
“Princess? It’s okay. It’s just me…” he said soothingly, taking a small step her way, his hands stretched out from his body to show her he meant no harm. He would never hurt her, could never hurt her. The sight of her there, with the scent of fear hanging in the air, sliced him down to the core. How could he have let this happen? He should have recognized her sooner, found her before this had happened.
“Calan? Is it… are you… him?” He knew without asking she meant the troll now smoldering as a pile of ash in the hallway downstairs—her purchaser—and shook his head.
“No, sweetling. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you.”
“Oh, thank the fire,” she whispered. Relief made her paler than she had been, and her knuckles whitened as she clung to the drapes, as though she was struggling to stay on her feet. In an instant he was by her side, ready to scoop her up if she fainted, but she squeaked. Batting his hands away, she tried to hide more of herself behind the drapes.
“Princess,” he growled softly, in no mood for games. “Don’t do that. Let me help you.”
Heat flushed her cheeks, turning them scarlet and she shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Like what?” His voice rose, panic beginning to thread through his veins. “What did that bastard do to you? Did he touch you?”
“No!” Her reply was sharp and instinctive, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The scent of truth was in the air, so he knew she wasn’t lying. She refused to meet his eyes so he took control, gently untangling her hands from the drape and pulling her free of its embrace. The few seconds he managed to get a look at her between the drape falling away and her diving into the protection of his arms was enough for him to work out the problem. That bastard Smith had her dressed in the sheerest of nightgowns, the fabric doing nothing to conceal her slender form but highlighting it instead.
He gritted his teeth, forcing his body to obey him and not react to the sight of the high, firm breasts with dusky nipples, the nipped in curve of her waist, or the darkness at the apex of her thighs where the smallest strip of hair nestled. Shit, he couldn’t… wouldn’t react. She’d think he was nothing more than a pervert, lusting after her when she was helpless and vulnerable.
“He made me wear it,” she muttered, her voice muffled against his chest as shivers racked her slender form. He ran his hands down her back, making soothing noises. “Took my other clothes away. I don’t want you to think…”
“Princess,” he shushed her words, hooking a finger under her chin to make her look up at him. “I don’t think anything. You’re here against your will. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I promise.”
She nodded, searching his eyes, and in that instant, he wanted to be everything for her—the best man he could be. But when it came to giving her a choice, he wasn’t quite that good a man…
“I searched for you last night,” he admitted softly, sliding out of his shirt. His hands shook as he draped it around her, concealing her figure from sight, and especially from him. “But you were gone. I was frantic, to have been given a glimpse of heaven only to have it snatched away.”
Her expression was pained, but she didn’t make a move to pull away from him whe
n he wrapped her back in his arms. “I had to run. Floriana… my… well, I guess I can’t really call her my stepsister anymore… Floriana was with that boy. She saw me… recognized me. I wasn’t supposed to be at the ball,” she explained, her small teeth worrying at her lower lip and sending his blood pressure sky-rocketing.
“The invite was for the Blaise family and I’m just an Evans…so I wasn’t invited. But I wanted one night, you know? Just one night dancing and looking at all the dresses before Goranka locked me away for good.”
He’d known who she was, but it was good to have it confirmed. “You’re Johnathon and Rosa’s daughter, aren’t you? You’re Saskia Evans?”
She nodded but sadness welled in her eyes. “Well, I was, but I’m not much of a daughter.”
Her fingertips brushed the thick chain around her neck and instantly he wanted it off, never wanted to see such an ugly thing against her skin again. He reached up to remove it but she blocked him. “No! It’s not safe. My dragon… it’s unstable. I could…” Her lip quivered, her eyes filling with tears. “I could hurt you, hurt others, and I don’t want that. It’s better you let me go. I’ll disappear, stay well away from dragon society. That way I can’t hurt anyone again.”
His snarl of anger was nothing to do with her, but she shrank away anyway.
“No…no,” he soothed her fears, pulling her close to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. “You’re not dangerous, sweetheart. Your dragon isn’t unstable… you just needed an alpha with you to guide you through your first shift. Was this… after your father had passed?” he asked carefully, not wanting to dredge up unpleasant memories for her.
She nodded slowly, her gaze latched onto his as though he were her salvation. Her voice was low, barely there. “Yes. About six months after. My stepm… Goranka put a collar on me after that to keep my dragon dormant.”
Rage at what the evil woman had done exploded through him but he managed to keep a lid on it for Saskia’s sake. One thing was for sure, he and Goranka Blaise were going to be having words. Soon. And they’d be ones the she-dragon bitch wouldn’t like.
“Well, you don’t need this, so let’s get rid of it, shall we?” he paused as he reached for the collar again, searching her expression for permission. Worry filled her eyes but she nodded, bending her head so he could remove the ugly chain. She sighed in relief as it left her skin and he threw it in the far corner of the room.
He smiled and took a deep breath, searching her scent for the note he was sure would be there. When he found it, he smiled, his dragon caroling in happiness. With the collar gone, her scent unfolded, expanded and there, wound around the scent of freesias and woman, his woman, was the perfect, unique note he’d been looking for his whole life.
The scent of his mate.
“But, what if…” she stopped, as though she couldn’t say the words.
“I’m here, princess. I’ll always be here.” He lifted her chin again, made her meet his eyes. “Forever. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, and, as soon as my dragon sees yours, he’ll be in love as well. Can’t you feel it, the connection between us? We’re mates, made to be the two halves of a whole. And if you change… when you change, I’ll be there to help you through it.”
“Y-you… love me? For real?” She blinked, her expression stunned, and then she shook her head. “No. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me. I’m dreaming.”
He smiled and pulled her closer. “Then let’s dream together, for the rest of our lives. What do you say, my love? Take a chance, take a black, take a duke… and I’ll make you the happiest woman alive. I promise.”
8
Calan loved her, and he was her mate.
Saskia held those truths close to her heart as Calan carried her through the palace, still wrapped in his shirt. He’d growled at the guards at the door when they’d gotten out of the car and at everyone they’d passed in the corridors. She nestled close to his chest, safe in his arms as she listened to the heavy beat of his heart. Being close to him, feeling his skin against hers, if only a little, soothed something inside her she hadn’t realized was raw and aching.
Fear still yammered at the back of her mind. The what ifs of her past. What if she couldn’t control her dragon… what if he realized just how damaged she was and didn’t want her anymore… what if this was all a dream and she woke up in that horrible little room with the scarlet bed, waiting for her new master. But those fears didn’t make it past the back of her mind, the soothing touch of her mate lulling her nearly into sleep.
“What the hell is going on, Calan? Why did you pull all the blacks on duty, even my personal guard?” a female voice demanded, pulling Saskia out of her comfortable daze. Something deep inside her grumbled, a tiny growl at the female talking to her… their mate that way. “What could be so important that you would risk the life of your queen?”
Saskia blinked in surprise, able now to focus on the scene around them as Calan turned around. Oh hell, it wasn’t just any female talking to Calan, it was the queen herself. Cadeyra stood in front of them, her curls in perfect disarray around her face and a pout on her lips. Instantly, faced with the queen’s curvy perfection, Saskia felt dowdy and plain in comparison. If this was the kind of female her mate had grown up with, what on earth did he see in her?
“Cadie,” Calan growled, his deep voice rumbling up through his broad chest. “You’re more powerful than the entire council put together. You don’t need a bodyguard. You know that.”
Saskia hid her face against the curve of Calan’s throat at the tone he used with his cousin, the queen. It was somewhere between affection, frustration and chastisement, and she was certain no one else would get away with telling Cadeyra the White off. No way, no how.
“Maybe,” the female pouted, her eyes flashing pale with her dragon. “But maybe I like having a guard and don’t like it when you pull Saw—pull them away without notifying me. Besides,” she asked, her eyes resting on Saskia, “what could be so important that you need them all? Who is this female? She smells familiar but I can’t place her.”
Calan grumbled low in his throat. “She’s Johnathon Evans’ daughter, until recently the ward of that Blaise woman… who decided to sell her into slavery. I rescued her.”
“Sell!”
Saskia jumped at the fury in the queen’s voice and tried to burrow further into Calan’s arms.
“Yes, sell,” he repeated firmly. “We only just got there in time to save her. That’s what was so important. Why I pulled all the blacks. For the search…”
Saskia felt the queen’s gaze latch onto her, and she peeked out from cover. Sure enough, Cadeyra watched her with a hard gaze. Deep within, something bristled, but she shoved it back down just in case the powerful queen could read minds. No one knew the extent of a white’s powers, and the last thing she wanted to do was upset Calan’s family. What if Cadeyra didn’t like her… made Calan give her up?
“So you rescued her. Why bring her here?” the queen asked silkily, one eyebrow winging up. Saskia’s heart all but stalled in her chest. The queen knew…
“I think you can work that one out for yourself,” a deep voice interrupted as a large hand landed on the queen’s shoulder. A big guy, one almost as big as Calan, if not bigger, entered her line of sight. He was a black, that was for sure, one with an aura of authority almost as powerful as the queen’s. “She’s his mate, so I think we should let the lovebirds get on with it. Don’t you?”
The queen pouted again, obviously not liking it when she didn’t get her own way. “But I want to meet her. If she’s going to be family, I should meet her. Shouldn’t I, Sawyer?” she said, looking up at the big man without any of the fear he would have inspired in Saskia.
Sawyer, for his part, wasn’t even looking at the queen. Instead, he looked directly at Calan.
“Go. Now,” he ordered a split second before he pulled the queen into his arms and planted a kiss right on her lips. Saskia gasped, as for a second Calan’s entir
e body went rigid, but the next moment he turned and swept them both away.
He didn’t stop until they walked into what she assumed were his quarters. The plush luxury of the outer rooms passed her by in a blur, her attention hijacked by the huge bed in the room he carried her into and stopped.
She looked up to find him watching her, his expression tortured and wary. “I know this is quick, princess, but I can’t let you go… not even here in the palace where I know you’re safe. You’re mine… mine to love and protect, and I can’t do that without you close to me.”
Slowly he walked toward the bed, tension making his big frame virtually vibrate against hers where he held her. “I need to hold you, touch you, feel you against me, and I promise… until you’re ready, that’ll be all.”
As he spoke, he laid her down on the bed, crawling over her but holding himself away, as though waiting for permission. The control he was exerting showed in the lines of his face, tightening the corners of his full lips and bracketing his eyes… showed in the tension of the big frame as he held himself still.
Wonder filled her and she lifted her hand to stroke along his cheek. She reveled in the freedom to touch him. He was hers, would always be hers. He’d said he loved her, had said she was his mate, and he was so gentle with her, despite his great strength. Warmth and something else unfolded from the center of her chest and raced outward.
She loved him. Had since the moment he’d refused to give her back those silly gloves the first time they’d met.
“Please, princess,” he begged. “Say something.”
“Yes,” she managed, her fingertips whispering over his lips. “Yes to all of it. Holding, touching, you against me, but on one condition.”