by Chloe Cole
Its poison green gaze locked with hers and she scrambled backward in terror.
Dimly, she heard the car doors slam and the engine start as a single word raced through her mind over and over again.
Dragon.
Chapter Two
Drake landed on the gravelly ledge, tucking his wings to his side as he observed the scene before him with keen eyes.
The woman--Willa Stone, he could only guess--scrabbled back further in retreat before promptly slipping in the mud. She landed in a graceless heap at his clawed feet. The two people who had been standing beside her until he'd lowered his aura to make himself visible had climbed into their car and were already tearing ass back toward the winding, mountain road, tires squealing as they went.
So far, they seemed like an odd sort, wolf-shifters. Hopefully that wasn't the case in all ways.
He took a second to morph back into human form, rolling his shoulders to ease his wings back into place, stretching his hands as his claws retracted. The leather sack he kept tied to his ankle dropped to the ground now that it didn’t have his dragon’s girth holding it up. He retrieved it, sparing another glance at the woman, and she gazed back at him stupidly, mouth agape.
"Did you plan to stay down there, or?"
He knew he sounded like an asshole, but damn if he could help it. He could deal with the fact that she wasn't a dragon. And, although he could hardly see her face through the mud, he'd long since resigned himself to the idea that his new mate would be plain at best, and FUBAR in the face at worst. He didn't even mind that she was, from what he could tell, a bit plump. In fact, he rather liked that.
But he couldn't abide an idiot.
Just the thought of having to share his lair with a woman who stared at him with blank eyes all the time made his inner dragon rail with the injustice of it all.
"I asked you a question, wolf."
He tugged his bag open and pulled out a pair of gym pants, yanking them on as he waited for her to answer. Maybe his nakedness had thrown her off? But surely, as a shifter herself, she would know that clothes weren’t always easy to come by.
She wiped a hand over the mud on her face, clearing off just enough that he could make out a pair of light brown eyes that were wide with shock but far too sharp to belong to a dimwit.
One bullet dodged, at least.
He took another step toward her and surveyed her filthy form. She was wearing jeans that used to be blue, but were now a smeary mess of browns, and a forest green cable-knit sweater that camouflaged her figure enough that he couldn't make out much beyond her general plumpness.
Throughout his entire examination, she still hadn't uttered a word, and another, not-entirely unpleasant thought crossed his mind.
"Can you speak?" he asked softly, making sure to enunciate clearly enough that she could read his lips with her pretty brown eyes if she needed to. While the idea of a stupid mate was intolerable, the idea of a silent one…
"Of course I can speak," she said, her voice not much more than a husky whisper. "I'm just trying to decide what exactly I should say. I've never..." She trailed off and scrambled to her feet before crossing her arms over her ample chest and pinning him with a still-incredulous gaze. "I've never seen a dragon-shifter before."
"Well, surely you knew what to expect. I mean, we’re much the same as you." Only better, because of the wings, he added silently to himself. No point in rubbing in the obvious. "And, frankly, I find it hard to believe you wouldn't have taken to the ancient books to get some idea of what your husband would look like before we met."
She shook her head back and forth as if to clear it, sending her tawny colored tresses cascading over her shoulders. "My...what was that, now?"
The irritation that had been building since the second he'd flown up to find the elder Stone’s on the run and his intended covered in mud, cowering like a victim finally came to a head, and molten fire burned at his throat.
"Son of a bitch," he snarled, scrubbing a hand over his face as it all lined up, like a neat little row of dominoes. "Your parents didn't tell you that I was a dragon?"
Her white, smooth throat worked as she swallowed hard enough for him to hear it. "No."
"Did they tell you I was a wolf?"
Her laugh was far from humorous. In fact, the pain it held made his gut clench.
"Even that lie would have been more forgivable than what I was told."
He eyed her long and hard, his brain working to detangle this newest snarl of problems. When he came to the only logical conclusion, his anger bloomed to full blown rage.
"They didn't tell you that they were bringing you to your mate at all?" he growled, a flash of smoke and fire pouring from his lips as he spoke.
She took a step back, clearly shaken by his volatile reaction.
"N-no. They told me we were going to meet someone that they wanted me to consider."
He yanked a packet of papers from his bag and held them out to her. They were already halfway down this treacherous road. Might as well get it over with all at once so she could let it sink in.
"The time for consideration has long past, I’m afraid. My name is Drake Blackbourne. And, according to these papers, we’re already wed.”
Chapter Three
It had been years since she'd shifted without intending to. Most werewolves learned the art of moving between forms at will by the time they were ten or so.
But as she stood and started to run, Drake Blackbourne shifted himself, and then launched into the air above her, massive wings displacing stones and debris.
And Willa lost it.
Sheer terror clutched at her heart, and her insides went haywire. Her wolf came rushing to the surface in one, instinctive surge, ready to fight. She growled low in her throat, ears pressed close to her skull as he came at her, three-foot long, razor sharp claws extended. Like a bird of prey swooping in for the kill, he reached for her.
She edged backward, snarling as the adrenaline coursed through her. Again he lunged forward, and again she skittered back, barking now as she eyed the distance between his haunches and the ground. If she could just get her jaws around--
One second, she was contemplating her attack, the next she was hurtling through the air at a breakneck speed that sent her stomach pitching and her head spinning.
She forced herself to open her eyes but regretted it instantly. The valley she knew lay below was so far gone now, even with her keen night vision, she couldn't see it. All she saw was the fat moon to the north and inky darkness in every other direction.
The realization that escape at this point would mean certain death hit her, and she abruptly ceased her struggles.
How had she allowed this to happen?
She tried to think back on her conversation with her parents. Yes, they'd been a little strange, but they were a little strange. And the stiffness and discomfort of their discussion about her future was pretty much the norm. Still, it had all seemed just a little too easy.
Why had she trusted them?
Drake chose that moment to go careening to the right in a stomach-flipping turn, and she swallowed back the bile that rose to her throat.
Okay. There would be time to lament over her own stupidity later. Right now, she had no choice but to face the facts.
She was in the clutches of a dragon-shifter, and, from what she could gather, he believed them to be married.
Panic clawed at her consciousness as her mind immediately shot to what the rest of her night held in store. Admittedly, she knew very little about dragon-shifters. Only what had been told to her by other pups around the campfire during hunting trips growing up. But what she had heard of them wasn't good.
The wind buffeted her face and she closed her eyes against the sting while she mined her brain for facts...
From what she could recall, they weren't pack animals. They tended to be loners for the most part, and considered themselves to be the top of the shifter food chain. Which, after seeing Drake in his formi
dable dragon form, made perfect sense.
He tightened his grip on her as he headed straight up, gaining altitude. In spite of her dread, even now, some small part of her couldn't help but be a little agog.
He was huge. Maybe twenty-five or thirty feet long, and she couldn't even hazard to guess how many tons, but as large as he was, he was far from clumsy. In fact, his flight seemed as effortless as a falcon's. His black scales glistened in the moonlight like onyx gems.
If she wasn't clutched in his talons, she might have counted him as one of the most magnificent things she'd ever seen.
Now, though, one wrong move away from splatting on the ground in a smear of fur, blood and mud, she couldn’t focus on the imposing picture he made gliding through the air. What she needed to do was figure out how to fix this mess.
Briefly, she contemplated reaching out mentally for her parents, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. They’d abandoned her to some unknown fate with a total stranger. A deadly stranger who she couldn’t hope to defend herself against if he wished her harm.
She should’ve known better than to think they would ever even consider her wants and needs. All this could’ve been avoided if she had just sucked it up. Was she so weak now that she couldn’t handle a few stupid, shortsighted assholes in her pack gossiping about her?
In light of her current problems, that seemed like child’s play, and she found herself wishing she could turn back the clock.
And speaking of the clock.
Surely, it was ticking, and she needed to prepare herself for whatever lie ahead.
So what else did she know about dragons?
There were a handful, worldwide. Less than a few hundred, now, if rumors were to be believed. And, as far as she had known until today, there were none at all in the United States. They tended to live in less technologically advanced countries and in less populated areas because, although they had a special shielding mechanism that tricked the eye and kept others from seeing them, humans were curious by nature. The less of them around, the better. Dragons also needed a lot of space, and a lot of food. Enough that, in a developed area, they would run a greater risk of being discovered.
She was still deep in thought when she felt the change in momentum. They'd been zipping along, but suddenly, they were hovering.
She let out a soft whimper as her paw touched something hard.
Stone?
Her other three paws followed and she was finally, blessedly back on solid ground. Drake flapped his wings once more and settled on the rocky terrain just a few feet away from her.
She was still trying to decide what to do next when he shifted back into his human form.
She'd been in shock and partially blinded by mud the first time, but this time, her eyes were crystal clear. If she'd thought his dragon was magnificent, she didn't have an adjective strong enough for his human form.
His black hair was a thick swath of waves and his electric green eyes stood out in stark contrast. She tried to look away, but found herself enthralled. By his face, by that firm, no nonsense mouth, and by...all that was holy, he was buck-naked!
She averted her gaze and tried to collect her thoughts. What had she been thinking again?
Oh yeah, fight or flight.
"Can you shift back so we can talk?" he asked, a hint of impatience coloring his smooth baritone. He'd posed it as a question, but his hands were tacked onto his hips and it felt more like a demand.
Maybe that was just how dragons sounded all the time.
She considered his question and again ran through her options. Who was she kidding? She was fast. Like, really fast, but he’d already proven that wings made it a race she couldn't win.
No, as crazy as it seemed in light of the fact that he’d scooped her up like a sacrificial goat, her best bet was to try to talk it through. To convince him to let her go. If that didn't work?
Well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Surely, if he'd wanted to hurt her, she'd have known it by now.
She let her eyes drift shut and focused on her form, calling her human forth until she could feel her muscles changing, her bones shifting.
When she opened her eyes again, it was to see Drake staring at her, just a few feet away.
Her filthy, oversized sweater hung in tatters around her, but she was grateful there was anything of it left at all, and clutched it around her naked form, cheeks blazing.
"Where are we?" she asked, her throat scratchy from all the barking and snarling she'd done when he’d first took her in his clutches.
"My home," he answered in a low tone. He was watching her carefully, like he half-expected her to make a break for it.
She took a cursory glance around her and noted bleakly that "home" was one word for it.
“Lair of doom" would be three others.
They stood in the wide entranceway of what looked like the mouth of a cave, but was surrounded on three sides with smooth granite walls that seemed to be a hundred feet high or more and were lit by massive torches.
To her left, just a few yards off, was the edge of a cliff. She sidled closer and peered down into the sheer drop. Story upon story of nothingness.
Her foot connected with a large stone and sent it rolling off the side of the ledge.
The silence that ensued stretched on for a terrifyingly long time until, finally, the rock landed with a clack.
Willa shuffled back from the ledge and met Drake's enigmatic gaze again. This place was a bleak and craggy death trap from which she could see no escape. She was going to have to rely on her diplomacy to get her out of this mess.
The thought was almost as scary as the cliff. She wasn't known for minding her words, and had never been good at pretend.
Then again, she'd never been kidnapped by a dragon, either.
"Listen, Mr. Blackthourne, I’m--”
His face went thunderously dark and he cut in. “Blackbourne.”
Lord, she was batting a thousand with this guy, already.
“Yes, sorry,” she said, pasting a fake smile on her face that she hoped appeared contrite. “Um, look, I don’t know what happened here. My parents clearly entered into some sort of agreement with you, and for that, I apologize. But surely you can see, if the agreement was made without my consent, I can't legally be bound to--"
"Legally?" he snapped derisively. "By whose laws?" He cocked his head and waited, an expectant black brow raised.
Lord he was handsome. Even angry, he was the epitome of gruff sensuality, and it took every bit of her resolve to follow the shifter etiquette and keep her eyes above his waist. It wouldn’t help her case at all if he caught her ogling his thickly muscled chest, or those lean, cut abs…
She cleared her throat and looked away altogether, focusing on a spot in the sky, just past his ear. "Well, I mean, everybody's, I would think."
"You would think wrong then, Ms. Stone. The laws of my kind are very clear."
He took a step toward her and she swallowed hard. This time, there was no place to go unless she wanted to follow that rock off the cliff to her gruesome death, so she stood her ground, becoming more aware of her near-nakedness by the second.
"Let me tell you two truths about dragons. First, our word is our bond. I had an agreement with your parents, and I will hold up my end of it. Second, we keep what is ours. And anyone would rue the day they tried to take it from us."
He was close enough now that she could smell his maleness. When he'd been a dragon and she a wolf, it was different. He'd smelled of campfire and heat. Now, though, it was much more subtle. Wood-smoke and spices. She fought the desire to suck a breath in through her nose and identify those spices, focusing instead on his words, which were definitely cocky and possibly chauvinistic.
“Seriously?” She met his gaze with a challenging glare. “You sound as old fashioned as my parents right now. I hate to tell you, even if we were married, which we’re not, I wouldn’t be your property.”
So much for
diplomacy.
He was quiet for so long, she wondered if he was contemplating tossing her over the side and calling this whole mess a loss, but when he spoke, his tone was more bemused than angry.
“Mammals are such silly creatures sometimes,” he said softly. “Listen to me, little wolf. Your kind is a babe in these woods. It’s not for you, or anyone, to question the laws of dragons. We have been around for millions of years to your paltry few thousand, and we don’t follow the rules. We make them. The sooner you get your head around it, the better off you’ll be.” He turned then, and didn’t wait to see if she would follow. "Now come. Let's not stand out here in the cold. We'll go inside, I'll build a fire and--"
Her stomach let out a loud gargle and her cheeks flushed hotter. Jesus, she was in the midst of a pretty major crisis and even at that, her wolf demanded its dinner.
He inclined his head and turned again toward his stony abode. "Food first, then we talk."
She followed behind, discomfited by the idea of walking directly into some sort of trap, but left with no other option that she could see. Maybe he was like her, and got cranky on an empty stomach. She kept her eyes trained on the ground in front of her, determined not to stare at his ass.
They'd gone a dozen yards and through the entryway when he stopped short, causing her to skid to a stop as well or go plowing into his back.
"Welcome to castle Blackbourne," he said. She looked up as he swept a hand out to gesture toward the massive great room before them. "What do you think?"
She wanted to answer and, in the name of diplomacy, she tried. But she couldn't tear her gaze away from the throne that sat in the center of the room.
It was massive--large enough to fit Drake in his dragon form--and adorned with loads of gems the size of her fist. A plush, red cushion covered the seat, and the legs were fashioned out of thick bars of gold.
It was the pedestal it sat on that caught her attention, though. Partly because of its gargantuan size.