From his attitude, I had sort of known that this was the case but I still felt a little stab of hurt when he actually said it. He didn't want me. Maybe it was arrogant to assume that he would, and I would not usually have been shocked by a man not wanting me—why should I care? His brothers absolutely wanted me and three men really ought to be enough, so again; why should I care? Plus, I hardly even knew him. Why should I care? But I wanted him so much I could almost taste it, and so the rejection stung. Besides, wasn't he supposed to want me? What was going on? The situation suggested that there was more to this than a simple lack of attraction. I had to know why, however self-indulgent it might seem.
"How come?" I asked.
His eyes were fixed on the fire, his face set in a hard stare, and I felt I could almost see the decision being made in the subtle movements of his strong face.
"I had a mate." Only the crackling of the fire broke the silence between us. "She died before we could... She died."
I wanted to ask how and when but the words did not come. Instead, I felt tears welling up inside me. I felt a tremendous empathy for this poor broken man, put in a position he did not want to be in for the sake of his species, when his heart still belonged to another. And here I was feeling hurt because he didn't fancy me.
"I don't want to feel that pain again," Alistair continued, his voice low and strained. "I can't let myself. Even when I feel..." His face was a mask of tortured restraint and I remembered what MacKenzie had told me earlier, that the fierce desire I felt for these men was mirrored in what they felt for me, and more. It was not that Alistair did not want me—he did not want to want me. He was fighting his desire for me for fear of being hurt again.
"I'm sorry." Truly, the most useless word in the English language. But what else can you say, what else can you do?
I put a comforting hand on Alistair's shoulder. He turned to look at me. Our eyes met and I felt drawn to him by a force as inevitable as gravity. My lips parted as we kissed, and the world seemed to melt away.
Chapter 8
This had not been part of the “date” plan. Of course, while I had been very clear that nothing sexual was going to happen during these dates, I had not made any promises about kissing. That said, a kiss like this was leading somewhere; somewhere wonderful, but somewhere forbidden.
Some small part of my mind knew that this was a bad idea, that it was too much, too fast. But that part of my mind was overruled by the rest of it and by the whole of my body, which submitted gladly to the pleasure of kissing Alistair. His skin was warm against my face and his designer stubble brushed roughly against me. In the past, I hadn't liked facial hair on a man I was kissing, but on Alistair it seemed right, a part of his overt masculinity. Given what I had just learned about him, was he feeling the same doubts and fears as I was? I thought probably he was, but he was also feeling the same powerful need, helpless in its grip. From the back of his throat I heard a low growl—the dragon within—and I found myself involuntarily responding with a submissive whimper. I was his.
I opened my mouth wider and felt his tongue slip past my lips. Suddenly, his hand was in my hair, pulling me closer—not hard, but firm. Now his other hand ran possessively down my side, flowing over the contours of my body, leaving a smoldering path in its wake and coming to rest low on my hip, fingers just caressing my ass. Moving without thinking, running on pure instinct, I found my right hand on the bare skin of his neck, tracing the taut muscles up to caress his rough cheek. The left, meanwhile, was on his chest, flattened against the hardened landscape of his pectorals beneath his thin shirt, feeling them rise and fall with his growing arousal.
Without knowing what I was doing, I broke out of the kiss to stare into his eyes and see the heat in them, which I knew was reflected in my own. On a whim, I dived back towards his mouth, kissing quick and light and then grabbing his lower lip between my teeth and tugging on it, hard enough to hurt. The growl again rose from within him as I disturbed the beast that dwelt in his chest. I felt his hand tighten on my ass, first squeezing and then gathering the material of my dress in hasty fingers until his hand could slip beneath.
"Oh!" I couldn't suppress a cry as his fingers touched the bare flesh of my thigh, sending a whip crack of electric arousal searing through my body. Alistair pulled away from my mouth and began to kiss down my neck, his lips seeming to burn wherever they touched. The shoulder strap of my dress had become dislodged and he growled afresh as he kissed my bare shoulder. Unable to stop myself, I buried my face in the crook of his neck and shoulder, tasting his sweat, nipping at his skin with my teeth, tugging on his hair with one hand—anything to provoke a reaction. I suddenly realized that my left hand was undoing buttons on his shirt—clumsy but determined—before diving in to touch the hard skin beneath, to feel the strong lines of his muscular torso outlined beneath my trembling fingers. At first, I was almost afraid to touch, afraid to trespass on anything so perfect, but when I finally pressed my palm against him I was overwhelmed by the desire for more. My hand dived lower to caress his superb abs, then slipped round to feel the broad expanse of his back. I wanted to touch every inch of him and to feel every inch pressed against me.
My questing hand apparently pleased him very much as he squeezed my thigh in response, his own hand going higher beneath the disordered folds of my dress. With his other hand, he now yanked my head back and descended on my mouth once more, kissing me passionately, desperately, as if he had no choice.
As we drew closer still, I became more and more aware of the one area where I had not yet dared to trespass. The heat from between his legs seemed to radiate, and the closer we came, the more aware I became of its source, strong and hard, growing against me. From the feel of it, I was surprised it hadn't already burst through the denim of his jeans, it felt far too large and far too powerful to be caged. Just my awareness of it there, throbbing hotly beside me, sent a shockwave of frustration tearing through me—I wanted this man more than I had wanted anyone in my life, and I wanted this thing more than anything I had ever wanted or needed. I couldn't wait any longer, my right hand, which had been in Alistair's hair, slid down his body—I could not stop touching him for even a second—down his side, across his belly, finally grasping the massive bulge in his pants. It jumped at my touch, rearing up like a living thing, angry and impatient to be free; strong, sinuous and so very big. I started, gasping at its reaction.
As soon as my fingers closed over his demanding shaft, Alistair issued a ferocious snarl. His eyes flashed as he pulled away from me for a split second, still holding me and me still holding him. Then he was back on me, his lips on mine, his hands holding me, guiding me, taking my weight as he turned me over onto my back on the fur rug. With one hand still glued to the bulge in the front of his pants, I pulled him roughly down on top of me, mashing my lips into his, wanting to feel his weight crush me. I ripped his shirt from his body, buttons flying, and tossed it away from us. At the same time, he kissed his way across the top of my chest, working his way towards my breasts, as his hands pulled up my dress. I spread my legs, crooked knees either side of his powerful hips. This was going to happen, it was going to happen now, and there was nothing I could have wanted more.
The door burst open, letting in a shrill whistle of cold air that made the fire leap and temporarily doused the heat that had drawn Alistair and I to this point. I looked towards the door and saw MacKenzie, Duncan and Callum framed in it, almost as shocked by what they were seeing as I was to be caught like this. And it all rushed in upon me.
What the hell was I doing? This wasn't me.
I looked up at Alistair, kneeling between my legs, and saw the same look on his face. He couldn't even look at me and I felt a bite of accusation. How did I have this hold over him that he had allowed this to happen? I knew exactly what he was feeling because it was what I felt, too.
I sprang up, gathering my disheveled clothes around me, and sprinted for the door, almost in tears. Behind me, I could hear the sound of mal
e voices but I could not stop to hear what they were saying, I just had to get away.
As soon as I was alone in my room, the tears came in an unstoppable flood. What the hell had happened to me? Did I have so little self-control? I didn't want to be like this, at the mercy of my own basest urges. I couldn't be like this. It would tear me apart. The dragons need me, but what about what I need—to be human, to be loved, for it to be simple and sincere and slow. The heat of tonight I had no problem with in principle, but it was supposed to happen with someone you cared about, weeks into a relationship, not on a first “date” with someone you barely know just because you can't stop yourself.
But even as I sat there, hating myself for what I had almost allowed to happen, the far more prevalent feeling within me was hating myself for it not happening. Even now, out of the heat of the moment, I wanted Alistair, I wanted them all. I wanted their love.
I couldn't be what they needed me to be.
I could barely have one healthy relationship, never mind four of them. And the emotions and desires I felt were already so overwhelming…I couldn't do this. I knew it deep down in my bones.
It would tear my heart into pieces to try to love and be loved by four men, and if it didn’t work out…the way I knew it wouldn’t?
It would break me.
The quicker I got myself out of this mess, the better.
Chapter 9
The smell of food woke me. There really was nothing in the world like the smell of bacon frying.
I got up, showered, and dressed quickly—jeans and a loose blouse - then headed downstairs, guided by the smell that wafted through the cavernous corridors. Following my nose, I wandered down into an area of the castle in which I had not been before. From up ahead came a pleasant glow of warmth, counteracting the early morning chill that clung to the castle's stones, and the sound of rattling pots and pans, undercut by a man's voice singing off-key.
Sounded like Duncan, and my stomach did a flip-flop.
Okay, a short reprieve, which was welcomed. Although, I had to admit, as much as I dreaded seeing Alistair’s accusing face, part of me wanted to get it over with. I’d been wracked by crazy dreams all night long, some terrifying, some erotic as hell, and I’d decided the best thing to do was meet this mess head on. Yes, I was in uncharted water and yes, I was afraid, but I was here. Until or unless I left, this was the hand I’d been dealt and I was determined to see it through to its conclusion, whatever that might be. Hiding out in my room with my head in the sand because all these feelings were “too much” wasn’t an option.
The kitchen I entered was built on as grand a scale as everything else in the castle, looking like it had been designed to feed an army. There were rows of meat hooks on the rafters, nondescript barrels in the corner, and a vast wooden table dominated the center of the room, scored with a thousand years' worth of knife and cleaver marks. Above the obligatory fire was an iron spit, currently not in use. A large cooking range was by the wall, and in front of it, with his back to me, was Duncan, wearing one of the robes that I’d gathered made it easy for the men to change shape.
As I watched, he scooped a spatula-full of crispy bacon out of the pan and dumped it onto a plate that was already loaded. I guess dragons have a serious appetite, and right now mine was pretty big as well. I didn't think I had made any noise when I came in but Duncan seemed to have sensed my entry. He turned around, that bright, boyish smile on his face and waved the greasy spatula at me.
"Morning. You sleep alright?"
I nodded. It was a lie, but a harmless one.
“Breakfast?"
"Thanks. It smells fantastic."
"Can't beat bacon in the morning. Grab a seat."
I pulled a stool up to the table and wondered idly if the bacon was shop-bought or the result of yesterday's hunt. I decided not to think about it—I was happy to eat bacon but would rather not think about where it came from.
"Dig in," exclaimed Duncan enthusiastically. "Coffee? I'm having orange juice but there's a pot on."
"Coffee would be great," I said, taking the plate of bacon and then watching as Duncan bounced off towards the coffee pot. Duncan seemed to bounce everywhere, as if the energy inside him had to be vented in movement to stop him from popping. I wondered how old Duncan was. I had a sneaking suspicion that dragons did not measure age in the same way humans did, and that they were probably all centuries old. I didn't have anything to base that on but it felt right. But in appearance and the way he acted, Duncan seemed younger than me, somewhere in that joyful 18-21 bracket when you're out of the sullen teens and the whole world seems to be your plaything.
He brought me an enormous mug of coffee and sat down opposite with his orange juice and a mountain of bacon.
"Where are the others?" I asked tentatively. I didn't want him to think that I wasn't happy with just him for company, but I needed to talk to all of them, together, so I could tell them that I had made up my mind to leave.
"Out," said Duncan. "Getting supplies. Can't hunt everything. They'll be back this afternoon."
I nodded. What I had to say could wait until then.
"I'm sorry about last night," I said, finally. "Me and Alistair..."
Duncan waved my apology away. "You're free to do what you want. Don't feel like you have to obey any 'rules' here.”
His careless attitude made him easier to talk to than the others, less intimidating. "I hope Alistair wasn't in trouble."
Duncan shrugged. "We had an agreement not to go too far, too fast because we don’t want to scare you but, frankly, I'm over it—not sure about MacKenzie or Callum. I understand why it happened and I don’t blame him.” He looked up at me and I suddenly felt naked under his stare. “Not one fucking bit."
He looked away, as if mastering himself, and when he looked back, the smile had returned and all was casual once more. I wanted to tell him that however hard he was struggling against an attraction to me, I was having the same issue with him—but that just seemed like asking for trouble.
We finished breakfast in pleasant conversation and then, after dumping the crockery in the sink, Duncan said, "I've got something to show you."
He grabbed a backpack that was by the door, beckoned me with a nod and a grin, and hurried me up through the castle. Higher and higher we climbed until we came to a door.
"Here." Duncan took a fur coat from a rack of coats and robes beside the door and handed it to me. "You'll need this. These, too," he added, passing me a pair of heavy, fur-lined boots.
He wasn't kidding. As he opened the door, a blast of icy air hit me, whistling in from outside and making me gasp at the sudden shock of cold. We stepped out onto the towering battlements of the castle. The cloud layer of yesterday had dissipated and I gasped again at the view.
Duncan's grin widened. "What do you think?"
The whole world seemed to be laid out in front of me. It didn't look real, more like toys left lying on the floor—here a fluffy green forest; there the sparkling blue curve of a river; all so tiny and so perfect.
"It's magic," I breathed.
"Actually, not. And it gets better."
I couldn't imagine how.
"We're going on a little trip."
"You mean...?"
He nodded. "Very few of your kind ever get to see the world from the back of a dragon."
It was a tempting and thrilling idea. But it was also a terrifying one—in so many ways. I just wasn't sure what might happen.
Duncan saw my hesitation. "Think of it as a metaphor. Everybody has to ride the dragon at some point in their life. For some, riding the dragon is performing on stage, or applying for that dream job. For you, riding that dragon is actually riding a dragon. It's something that, if you do it you'll never forget it, and if you don't then you'll end up regretting it for the rest of your life."
He was right about that. I said nothing, but I smiled and Duncan beamed back. He handed me the backpack and stripped off the robe he was wearing. The cold did
not seem to have any effect on him and I blushingly wondered if I would ever get used to seeing the magnificent bodies of my new friends, or if they would always leave me flushed, dry-mouthed and powerfully aroused.
Duncan threw his shoulders back and his body suddenly expanded, wings budding from his shoulder blades, neck thrusting upwards, his already massive chest billowing out as scales exploded across his naked body. He changed far more quickly than MacKenzie had, going from human to dragon in a mere split second, hardly giving me time to be shocked by it.
The golden dragon loomed above me, shining in the early morning sun, as beautiful as it was powerful. It actually looked like Duncan. Its blue eyes gleamed, it flapped its colossal wings for sheer love of doing it, then turned a dragon's attempt at a smile on me, baring rows of bright teeth. Then it crouched low to the ground, presenting its back for me to climb aboard.
Again, I hesitated. But not for long. There probably were a lot of reasons not to do this—Duncan did not know that I was planning to leave without helping him and his brothers, essentially leaving them to die—but when else would I get the chance? How many people were even lucky enough to get a chance like this one?
I climbed up onto Duncan's back, feeling the smooth scales beneath me, and beneath them the movement of his muscles. Once he was sure I was secure, the dragon Duncan stood up and spread his wings. His mighty head turned back to give me a look that was oh so very Duncan. And then he leapt.
I felt as if I had blacked out for a second, though I was conscious throughout, the overwhelming rush of sensation was simply too much for my mind to take in and so the world was reduced to a rushing flood of feelings pouring in on me like liquid elation. I felt like squealing with joy, and then realized that I already was. Down we swooped, leveling out just above the ocean, skimming along its surface, low enough that the tips of Duncan's wings cut into the surface of the water to leave white plumes of wake. The sea below had never looked so blue, and nor had the sky above. Then, with a mighty flap of his wings, we were off again at high speed. Land appeared before us and Duncan soared over it. A vast and verdant forest—I could not guess where, spread out like a carpet. As we passed, a flock of startled birds erupted from the canopy and joined us in flight for a while till they tired. Duncan flew on.
Kidnapped by the Dragon Harem Page 6