by Meara Platt
Once again, she stood her ground, not afraid to take on the fearsome Dragon of Draloch.
He put a finger to her cheek, his feather-soft touch tracing the curve of her face. His lips were so close to hers, he could almost taste the Ceylon tea she’d enjoyed after dinner. “Please, Saron. I’m tired and wish to go to bed.”
“Anabelle,” he whispered her name with a groaning ache. “You’re playing a dangerous game, little one.”
“Am I?”
She obviously knew she was, and though he’d responded to her charms much as any man aroused might, he wasn’t like other men. He was a man with a dark past, a brute wrapped in a thin cloak of civility. His passion would not be so easily tamed once riled. Why was she now tempting him to play with fire? He was the dragon and she was the one likely to be burned.
“Very dangerous,” he said, his breath intimately caressing her and sending a visible shiver up her spine.
“You have me quaking in my boots, or should I say, my dainty silk slippers.” He could tell that she spoke with a bravado she did not feel. “Do you like them?”
She tried to peer down at her feet, but he’d left her with little room to move. He tipped a finger under her chin to hold her gaze to his. “Don’t toy with the me,” he warned. “You may think me the Draloch dragon, but you’ll know it for certain when you feel the force of my anger. And I will be angry if you pay any heed to Penelope’s schemes.”
He softly touched her hair, ran his hand along her exposed collarbone. “I know my aunt and the fanciful wandering of her mind. I also know you far better than you imagine.” He bent his head and kissed that spot on her collarbone. “I know your every thought before you think it, your every desire before you state it, your every wish before you dream it.” His dragon eyes took in all of her, every innocent, sensual curve. “I know your body–”
She gasped. “You do not.”
The kiss they’d shared in the barn after he’d saved her calf had been quite something. They’d locked lips, entwined bodies, and she had allowed his hands to roam and touch her everywhere.
He wanted that again, but this time no layers of clothes between them. Nothing but their bodies wrapped as one. “Why did you suddenly stop wearing funereal black?”
He wanted to feel her body move against his and taste the sweetness of her skin.
Her resolve seemed to crumble. “I don’t know what to do, Saron. I want to love you, but I don’t know if it will destroy you. Penelope says the power of love is strong. Is it? Is it enough to protect you?”
He eased away slightly. “What of you? Why do you think only of me?”
She exhaled, her long breath fragile and ragged. “Because I love you. I love you more now that you’ve trusted me enough to show me what you are. How can I ever turn away from you? What if I’m not meant to turn away from you?”
He felt the distant call of the Stone of Draloch and knew he had to bring Anabelle into the great hall where it stood. Why had it chosen Anabelle for him? Or had his damaged heart been the one to choose her?
He couldn’t think right now. She’d stirred his dragon lust and he ached to know the pleasure of her body. He’d always ached for her. But to see her now in her natural beauty was too overwhelming and unbearable to resist.
“Come into my room with me,” she said in breathy invitation.
He let out a soft, demonic laugh. “Have you taken no heed of my warning? Run from me, Anabelle. Push me away.”
“No. You promised to take me on a ride this evening.”
“There is a more important journey I must take you on. Into my realm.”
Her eyes widened in obvious delight, but there was also a hint of fear in them. Good, she had to understand the risks and dangers, for he still wanted her to run from him. “Then take me now. I’m willing.”
He growled softly as he lifted her into his arms to carry her into her bedchamber. His dragon blood was on fire. He shut the door behind them, closing them alone inside. Before she had a chance to speak, he slanted his mouth across hers and devoured her gasp of surprise in a hot, scorching onslaught, a string of long, deep kisses that ought to have satisfied his need, but only heightened his desire so that he was raw and aching for more.
He had to step away. This was not the sort of journey he’d intended for tonight, but she’d opened her arms and invited him to take his pleasure. He growled again as he wrapped her lush body in his arms and placed his hands firmly about her hips. He ground his mouth against hers, teased her mouth open with his tongue and delved into her velvet warmth, at the same time pressing the length of him against her.
He felt her tremble.
She tightened her fingers on his shoulders and called out his name with fiery intensity. “Saron. Oh, Saron.”
“So sweet,” he whispered, searing kisses down her neck, soft, gentle nibbles at her earlobe, but he could not remain gentle, and his kisses turned molten as he licked and tasted his way down her body, memorizing her scent and the taste of her on his tongue. He cupped her breast, loving the way it filled his palm while he ran his thumb across its taut peak.
He slipped the gown off her shoulders and bared her soft mounds. “Anabelle, you’re so beautiful.” He dipped his head and closed his mouth over one rosy, swollen tip.
She cried out in pleasure and arched into his touch, gave herself over to breathless sensation, encouraging his boldness with a reckless abandon beyond what any dragon could bear.
He broke off the kiss and eased her down gently. “Open your eyes, Anabelle.”
“Not yet,” she moaned, leaning against him for support when he released her. “My feet have yet to touch the ground.”
“Little one, this is a dangerous path. I meant to keep you safe, not drag you into the heart of danger. You stir my dragon lust. I want you with a hunger that’s too powerful for me to resist. But I’m too dangerous for you. Help me to protect your heart. You’re the last person I’d ever wish to hurt.”
She opened her eyes and studied his face, which was mostly cast in shadow, for there was only moonlight filtering in from the tall windows. “Saron, how can I explain it to you? This is all about risking our hearts. Yours and mine.”
“No. Do not pledge yourself to me yet, Anabelle. There is more I must show you.” He slipped the gown back over her breasts and quickly fastened the lacings he’d so eagerly loosened to get at her creamy skin. “You can’t know me, what I am and what compels me until I show you my guiding beacon, the Stone of Draloch. In a few days, when Caroline and her family are gone and your brother is safely on the way to Cleve, we shall speak of our hearts. But not before then.”
He stepped away from her, needing the small distance between them to cool his dragon flame, for all he wanted to do was take her into his arms again and claim her as his mate.
He raked a hand through his hair and glanced out the window to the garden below. Even in darkness he could see that more bluebells had sprung up around the house. Those beds of blue flowers signaled the presence of her Fae protectors. But that extra presence also meant more demon activity. He had to take her to the Stone of Draloch tonight. “Come, Anabelle. Are you ready to enter a new realm?”
She stood on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him gently on the mouth. “I’m ready to go wherever you choose to take me.”
But that was the problem.
He didn’t know if she was guided by her love for him or forced down this path by the Stone of Draloch.
It was time to find out.
Chapter Eleven
The great hall within the Fae king’s castle was dark and empty when Saron and Anabelle arrived through the portal, save for the soft, amber glow emanating from the Stone of Draloch. My beacon. My guiding light. Why have you chosen Anabelle for me?
He kept tight hold of Anabelle, for this was her first journey through the outer celestial reaches and her limbs needed time to adjust to these new surroundings. Her hair had come undone during their journey, the p
ins lost in a timeless ether, and her lush strands now flowed in spectacular red waves over her shoulders and down her back.
Her body was still trembling.
She tightened her grip on his shoulders, as though not quite believing they’d touched upon firm ground. “It is safe, little one. You may let go of me once your legs feel as though they will not buckle under you.”
“I’d rather not. My legs are as unsteady as those of a newborn lamb.”
He caressed her cheek. “The sensation will pass quickly, but I’ll hold on to you for as long as you wish. Here, give me your hand.”
She nodded and entwined her fingers in his. “Why is the stone glowing?”
Saron turned to stare at the giant monolith before them. “To welcome you.”
“Is it a living, breathing thing? What are these words inscribed on it? I don’t recognize the language.” She moved forward to run her fingers along the words of the prophecy that were etched in the stone. Saron made no attempt to stop her, for he knew no harm would come to her. But she couldn’t have known, and yet she approached the imposing monument without fear.
Curious.
Or was the stone talking to her? If so, what was it telling her?
“It feels warm to the touch.”
Saron slipped his arm around her waist to secure a better hold on her. The stone may have welcomed her, but until he understood its purpose, he wasn’t letting Anabelle out of his grasp. If the stone drew her inside of it, he was going with her. “It is welcoming you. It accepts you.”
She nibbled her lip. “Why me?”
His quiet rumble of laughter resounded through the vastness of the hall. “That is the great unknown. Why has it chosen you to be my mate? Why are all Draloch men bound to this giant bluestone? Why does it accept us, call to us? What fate has it chosen for me? More importantly, what fate does it intend for you?”
Anabelle’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Are we puppets to its force? Do we have no free will?”
The question she posed was a deeper one than she imagined. Yes, the Draloch men were guided by it, and so were the Fae. The inscription embedded in the stone was an ancient Fae prophecy foretelling of Fae victory against Brihann and his demons. But one’s destiny was not carved into this rock and the outcome could be changed. He quickly explained to Anabelle about King Cadeyrn’s quest to find the mortal girl who would fulfill the prophecy and bring the Fae their long-sought victory.
He translated the words of the prophecy for her.
In darkest hour shall bloom the mortal flower
With Fae king shall she lie, in love awakened
For Fae king shall she die, in love eternal
In fiery death shall she conquer the dragon’s darkness
And in her ashes shall Fae king triumph
To reign glorious in the Garden of Light
“But Queen Melody survived,” Anabelle said, obviously trying to absorb all that he had just told her. “So does it mean that her true love for her Fae king changed their destiny? She survived because she loved him?”
“She survived because they loved each other. He fought for her and refused to let her go.”
“Is the answer as simple as love conquers all?” She turned to him in expectation, a challenge waged in her exquisite doe eyes.
She wanted him to love her, to have faith in her love.
But he’d been sold into the Underworld and endured the monstrous cruelty of the Dragon Lords who ruled it. He’d lost Gideon because of them. Bloodaxe’s arrow had shot straight through that innocent boy’s heart.
What would those beasts do to Anabelle?
Therein lay the problem. He dared not allow himself to love her. He had no faith that his love would be enough to protect her.
She suddenly cried out, and as her hand slid off the inscription, she collapsed against his chest and would have fallen in a heap on the ground had he not caught her up in his arms. “Oh, no. Oh, no,” she whimpered.
“Anabelle, what has it shown you?” He wanted to rage at this stone that bore his family name, that had destroyed his elder brother, Arik, and turned him into the Dragon Lord known as Bloodaxe. The Stone of Draloch had forced both of them to endure a world of cruelty and hate. The stone was the reason a creature such as Bloodaxe existed, and the reason Bloodaxe had claimed the life of his innocent boy, Gideon.
After an agonizingly long moment, Anabelle managed to catch her breath.
“What has it shown you?” he repeated as her eyes fluttered open and her breaths were no longer sharp and gasping. What had this stone done to her? Why hadn’t he felt its sudden, violent pull? He should have, for he’d been holding on to her all the while.
There was a wildness in her eyes that he’d never seen before.
He blamed himself for bringing her here.
He cursed himself for wanting her so badly, he’d put her at risk.
He felt his dragon anger rising, an anger aimed at himself and the cursed stone. Could he destroy it? Could he smash it with his dragon tail and burn it with his dragon fire? He wanted to do it now. Why did you harm her?
I showed her the truth, Dragon of Draloch. I showed her what you refuse to see.
“Anabelle, I’ll take you back home. I promise never to bring you here again.” He roared in anguish, a mighty dragon roar that filled the hall and echoed off its polished walls. “I cannot do this. I will not put you at risk. You cannot be my dragon mate.”
His heart was pounding through his ears and his blood was fiery hot. But one touch of Anabelle’s soft hand upon his chest managed to calm his rage. “Anabelle…” His voice was a wretched, rasping groan.
“It showed me Gideon. It showed me the beast who killed him.”
“Bloodaxe?”
She shook her head. “No, it was Brihann who killed your son.”
He turned toward the stone, his rage once more building, although he kept his voice as calm as he could manage as he spat out his words. “Impossible. The arrow belonged to Bloodaxe. I saw him there, just after he’d shot Gideon.”
Hell. He wasn’t calm at all and must be frightening Anabelle.
Her eyes were fixed on him, but there was no fear in her gaze. She was scowling at him. “Bloodaxe was there to save him. Like you, he was too late.” Suddenly, she inhaled sharply, as though a knife had just been stuck through her ribs. “He’s in trouble. Oh, no. He’s in danger.”
“Who?”
“Bloodaxe. Brihann means to kill him.”
“Why should I care? They all deserve to die.”
“Not him. What is he to you? How are you connected?”
Did the stone not reveal that Bloodaxe was his brother? Did it mean that he should not reveal it either?
Anabelle cast him an impassioned gaze. “We must save him.”
“We?”
She stopped his mouth with a kiss. “Yes, we. As in you and I together. I am your dragon mate, though you are no doubt the unhappiest dragon who has ever found his mate. I’m yours forever and always. So get that special license and marry me as soon as possible. We have a lot of work to do.”
“Are you mad? Do you think I’d ever allow you near those demons?”
“You must.”
“Hell, no.”
She turned to the Stone of Draloch, seeming to listen as it gave her instruction. Saron put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him, hoping it would break off the connection she obvious had with that blasted monolith. “What is it saying to you?”
The breath caught in his throat at the love shining in Anabelle’s eyes, a love that was for him alone.
She smiled and kissed him lightly on his tense lips. “It’s warning me that I’m about to mate with a very stubborn dragon.”
Chapter Twelve
Anabelle sat in her sunny laboratory staring up at the sky through the windowed roof, too lost in thought to pay much heed to anything but the occasional white clouds slowly sailing across the blue horizon.
Her th
oughts drifted languidly as well.
She and Saron were to be married shortly after they reached London.
Since the Romneys’ departure one week ago, she had received a letter from Olivia letting her know that all was well and that she was looking forward to seeing Anabelle in London. Her brother had gone off with Sir John and Mr. Dullingham in the Harleigh carriage this morning to tour his properties. Robert, all bright and eager, had squawked like a chicken when she’d grabbed him for a fierce hug. “Enough, Anabelle! Stop kissing me.”
“But I won’t see you for months,” she’d replied, struggling to hold back tears. “I’ll miss you terribly.”
“No you won’t. Have fun in London.” And with that, he was off. Her last glimpse of him was his happy face sticking out of the window as the carriage rolled out of the courtyard.
Finding no more excuse for delay, she ought to have started packing for her own journey. Instead, she’d retreated to her laboratory to bask in the comfort and routine of her work, needing the time alone to settle her nerves. She was distressed, not only because of the kisses she and Saron had shared, but because of the pain she was causing him knowing she’d accepted to become his mate.
Her feelings for him had turned into something special and wondrous, something she knew she could never share with any another man. Not that she’d had any experience with other men and kisses.
She’d chosen Saron and had admitted she loved him.
Ever since, he’d felt nothing but worry.
She hadn’t lightened his heart, but added another burden.
“Back to work,” she chided herself, returning her attention to her plant experiments and reviewing the instructions she had prepared for Masterson.
Those detailed each step he was to follow while she was away, the list precise down to the hour and the day; the food, the sunshine, the shoots to be cut, and bulbs to be divided. She also made a list for herself, writing down all that remained to be done before her departure. There was so much to do, completing the inventory of the larder, making certain Harleigh was well stocked with provisions, visiting the tenant farms and dairy, visiting the sick, finishing the necessary fence repairs–