Nathaniel (Dragon Hearts 1)

by Carole Mortimer

  Chloe waited only long enough for Nathaniel to disappear inside the castle before she started to pull Keith toward the path leading down the mountain. “Move,” she encouraged desperately when he seemed to be lagging behind.

  “But your cell phone—”

  “I’ll buy a new one! For God’s sake, move it, Keith,” she snapped as he still made no effort to hurry. “The people at Pendragon Castle are—are— They’re up to something illegal, I’m sure of it,” she substituted for completely insane. “I’ll explain it all once we’re back in London—”

  “I only just got here,” he whined.

  “Then stay and finish the rest of your holiday, but first let’s get back to the village.” Chloe stumbled and slid down the mountainside in her rush to reach the bottom, all the time giving anxious glances behind her in case Nathaniel was following them. “Then I’m packing my car and going home.”

  “I have no idea what’s gotten into you,” Keith complained as he finally kept pace with her.

  Chloe wasn’t a hundred percent certain what had happened to her at Pendragon Castle either. Most of it was too weird to repeat.

  She did know she never intended coming back.

  “Why didn’t you go after her?” Dylan studied Nathaniel as if he was one of the specimens he occasionally studied under his microscope.

  Dylan had returned to Wales within two days of Deryk leaving. Apparently all the brothers felt that any progress in regard to their fated mates was more important than taking down a Colombian drug dealer. Grigor had decided he was tired of negotiating and they would fire blast the lot of them, anyway. Something Deryk would no doubt enjoy.

  The first thing Dylan had done when he returned was ask for an explanation of all that had taken place since Chloe first appeared on their mountain.

  Nathaniel answered his brother’s questions, but he really didn’t care one way or the other. Chloe was gone, had willingly left with another man, and that was the end of it.

  As Dylan said, he could have followed the two of them, but what would have been the point? Chloe couldn’t wait to get away from him.

  “She wanted to leave.” Nathaniel lay stretched out on the couch in the office as he answered his brother dismissively. He hadn’t been back into the sitting room since Chloe left two days ago. There were too many memories in there.

  For the briefest time, as he and Chloe made love, Nathaniel had known joy unlike anything that came before it. The memory of it was still inside his head. He didn’t need to go into the sitting room to relive it over and over again, like a never-ending movie excerpt permanently stuck on replay.

  “Deryk is of the opinion you should either mate Chloe or kill her.”

  Nathaniel snorted. “And, as far as I’m aware, we don’t make a habit of killing innocent humans because of an opinion. Besides, Chloe believes we’re either illegal drug or arms dealers, not dragons.”

  Dylan gave a derisive shake of his head. He was as tall and muscular as Nathaniel, his coloring very Welsh: black hair, and eyes a deep sapphire blue. “You’re positive she doesn’t remember anything you told her about the eight of us?”

  Nathaniel turned to glare at his brother. “Well, I haven’t seen any newspapers with the headline ‘Dragons found alive and well and living in North Wales,’ have you?”

  “Nate—”

  “Dylan.” He swung his legs to place his booted feet on the floor as he sat up. “If Chloe ever does remember any of that shit, she’ll just think I’m insane as well as a criminal.”

  His brother winced “Well, you did lock her up in the dungeon.”

  “And we both know I did that to protect her rather than keeping her prisoner.” Nathaniel stood up restlessly. “Deryk is becoming more and more unstable.”

  “Grigor is going to want a report from me this evening.”

  Nathaniel stared out the window but didn’t really see anything, the misery of his thoughts all focused inward. “Everything is as it’s always been, Dylan. Just us, in this bloody castle, with the occasional foray out into the world to deal with one of the bad guys.” He sighed heavily. “The exact way it’s been for fifteen hundred years.”

  “I’d like to do some blood work on you before I talk to Grigor.”

  “Fine.” Nathaniel nodded, without turning.

  “How do you feel?”

  How did he feel? Empty. Completely fucking empty. No joy, no happiness, no anger, no anything. But he was also restless, and he still had that itching under his skin, as if his dragon wanted to break free of his control. To be able to vent all the emotions Nathaniel wasn’t able to feel.

  The problem with that was, Nathaniel knew, if he allowed his dragon free rein, it would focus on only one thing: finding Chloe and bringing her back here with him.

  Nathaniel didn’t think he would be able to let her go a second time.

  “Like shit,” he answered his brother honestly.

  Dylan frowned his concern. “Has meeting Chloe made your dragon stronger or weaker?”

  Nathaniel gave a humorless laugh. “Meeting Chloe has given me a permanent hard-on.” His cock had been solid as a rock for the past forty-eight hours.

  “You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

  “I tried that. It didn’t help,” he drawled. Half a dozen hand jobs gave him absolutely no relief and not a lot of pleasure either. How could they when as soon as his cock was spent, it sprang back up again, as rock hard and aching as before.

  “I—” Dylan seemed conflicted. “We think Rufus might have found his fated mate before he died.”

  Nathaniel turned abruptly. “Whose we?”

  His brother looked uncomfortable. “Grigor and I.”

  “Neither of you have ever mentioned this before…”

  “No.” Dylan didn’t look happy. “Grigor and I discussed it and decided we couldn’t be certain enough to give the rest of you false hopes.”

  “Grigor and you discussed it!” His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck right do the two of you have to keep information like that from the rest of us? And what do you mean, you think Rufus had found his fated mate?”

  His brother sighed. “Do you remember the reason the hunters went after him?”

  “He was my brother. Of course I remember!” Nathaniel scowled. “Somehow, Lord Haselmere and his little sect discovered Rufus’s secret.”

  Dylan nodded abruptly. “The somehow was Haselmere’s daughter, Rebecca.”

  “The mousy little thing that no one ever asked to dance?”

  Through the centuries, the brothers had often played the part of society gentlemen, in one guise or another. Not so much in the twentieth century or this one, because two World Wars had pretty well destroyed the class system of Victoria’s time. Nowadays, the brothers were happy just to live in their castle and do their security work.

  “Except Rufus,” Nathaniel now recalled with a widening of his eyes. “He sought her out several times at society functions the week before he died. Did Haselmere use his daughter as bait to entrap Rufus and kill him, is that what you’re saying?”

  “No.” Dylan sighed heavily. “Grigor and I think Rufus was drawn to Rebecca because she was his mate. Did you know she died three weeks after Rufus was killed?”

  “I… No, I didn’t know that.” Nathaniel had been too grief-stricken to notice much of anything after his brother died. “Was she ill because of grief after Rufus and her father…died?” They had taken their revenge on Haselmere and his followers within days of Rufus being killed.

  “Not exactly.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “None of us understands enough, that’s the problem.” His brother moved impatiently. “We… Grigor and I think that Rufus and Rebecca had either completed the mating or partially so. When Rufus died, Rebecca was taken ill with a fever she never recovered from.”

  “What sort of fever?”

  “You know what it was like in Victorian times, so bloody prudish on the surface and a den of i
niquity beneath it,” Dylan dismissed disgustedly. “The Haselmere family described Rebecca’s illness as a fever of the mind as well as the body.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Grigor and I believe it was a sexual fever brought on by the need to mate with Rufus, but Rufus was dead.”

  “Jesus…”

  His brother nodded abruptly. “Without her mate, Rebecca’s heart and body simply stopped.”

  “But she was human…”

  “Yes.”

  Nathaniel sat down abruptly. “We’re able to mate with humans?”

  “Again, our information is too sketchy. The family wouldn’t let me near Rebecca, and I’m not sure what I could have done even if they had. We simply didn’t have the technology during that time for me to do the tests I can do now.” He shrugged. “I do have a theory.”

  “Which is?”

  “Somewhere in her family history, Rebecca had a dragon ancestor.”

  “Not related to us?”

  “There were other dragons before us, Nathaniel, ones not birthed by a goddess and Uther Pendragon,” his brother said dryly. “We still haven’t ruled out other dragons existing now either. Just because we haven’t found them doesn’t mean they aren’t out there. But we’re getting off the subject,” Dylan continued briskly. “You’ve admitted kissing Chloe, and even though your mating saliva wouldn’t be as potent in your human form as dragon, and you didn’t bite her— You didn’t bite her, did you?”

  “No.” But he had wished many times, selfishly, during the past forty-eight hours that he had.

  “Then you could have passed some of your saliva on to Chloe when the two of you kissed. If she is your mate, and she has that same weak dragon DNA we believe Rebecca had…”

  Nathaniel’s eyes widened. “Fuck.”

  “Exactly.”

  He flinched. “You think she might be suffering in the same way Rebecca did? In the way I am?”

  “That’s why Grigor sent me back here, so that I could decide that for myself. Until now, it’s only been a theory, but… I’ll need to do the in-depth blood work on both of you I couldn’t do on Rufus and Rebecca before I can confirm that theory. But having witnessed your own suffering, the sexual tension, the listlessness, I think it’s a possibility that the mating between you and Chloe has already begun, yes. If it has, you need to go to her as quickly as possible, bite her and—” He broke off with a pained wince.

  “Fuck her?”

  “I was going to say take her to bed, but yes, fucking would do as well,” he conceded dryly. “Often and repeatedly, until the fever is at a manageable level.”

  Nathaniel’s imagination had already given him a vision of a writhing and aching Chloe lying alone in a bed, tendrils of red hair clinging to the dampness of her forehead as her body was racked with a sexual fever that couldn’t be assuaged.

  But maybe she wasn’t alone. Maybe that bastard Watson was with her. His enquiries had told him the two of them had left Wales together two days ago. Maybe the other man was touching Chloe even now. Pleasuring her. Attempting to give her the sexual release that belonged to Nathaniel.

  Mine.

  Yes, Chloe was his, damn it.

  And from what Dylan had just told him, finishing the mating with Chloe might be a risk, but not mating her would definitely kill her.

  Chapter 9

  Chloe had no idea what was wrong with her, but she had been ill and in bed ever since she got back from Wales three days ago. She was hot and feverish. Her skin felt as if thousands of ants were crawling across and under it. She hadn’t been able to sleep. Nor did she have an appetite.

  Well…that last wasn’t strictly true. She did have an appetite, but it wasn’t for food or drink.

  Her cheeks couldn’t feel any more feverish than they already did, but if they could, they would have, after all the times she had pleasured herself to climax the past seventy-two hours.

  Thank God she lived alone so there was no one around to see her in this state. It was also as well she worked freelance, because she would never be able to be in a work environment in this constant state of arousal, suffering the need for a climax that somehow never quite gave her the satisfaction she craved.

  She was actually sore between her legs and on her breasts from the amount of times she had rubbed her clit and stimulated her nipples.

  She’d managed to get out of bed and change the sheets on her bed and take a warm bath earlier. The bath had helped soothe her for a while. Until she began to ache again and half the bathwater slopped over the side as she arched and thrashed from the power of reaching yet another climax.

  Chloe had no idea what was wrong with her. She had never heard of an illness where one of the symptoms was a need for sex and more sex. Unsatisfactory sex, at that, because as soon as one climax was over, the ants-on-the-skin feeling came back and she began to ache and throb to be filled.

  At first she’d wondered if it was a side effect of the drug she suspected Nathaniel of putting in that bottle of water he had given her to drink. But she’d checked online for the side effects of every drug imaginable, legal and illegal, and none of them listed turning into a nymphomaniac as being one of those side effects. Aphrodisiacs did exist, of course, and she could believe Deryk might have slipped something like that into her drink. She didn’t think Nathaniel would, though.

  Which might be naïve of her.

  Just because she had found Nathaniel attractive and responded to him physically—even before the drug-in-the-drink—didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of drugging a woman for sex.

  Whatever the reason for the painful increase in her libido, she was going to have to weather it out until the effects wore off. Which wasn’t as easy as it sounded when she felt so needy for sex all the time. She’d even thought of calling Keith at one point, but then remembered she had made it clear to him, once they were back in London, that it was over between the two of them.

  Besides, it wasn’t Keith she thought of when she touched her nipples and rubbed her clit.

  It was Nathaniel.

  Scary, slightly strange, and maybe a drug smuggler, Nathaniel.

  Chloe hadn’t been able to get the man out of her mind. Not even for a minute.

  It was his hands she imagined cupping her breasts.

  His fingers pulling on her nipples and caressing between her legs.

  His name she cried out every time she climaxed.

  She was going quietly—and sometimes not so quietly!—insane. Caught in a fever of lust that wouldn’t be satisfied, no matter what she did. It was—

  Chloe gave a pained groan when she heard the doorbell to her apartment ring. Although it did put an end to her troubled thoughts for a few seconds, at least. Not that she was going to open the door looking like she did. She had been clean several hours ago, had even managed to wash her hair while in the bath, but a lot had happened in the two hours since then. The T-shirt she wore to bed was sweaty and damp, and she was irritable from lack of sleep and this continuous need for sexual release, followed by the inevitable frustration.

  She pulled the duvet over her head when the doorbell rang a second time. Whoever it was could just go away. If she was going to die of a sexual overload, then she wasn’t about to let anyone see her do it—

  Chloe sat up in alarm as she heard the splintering of wood followed by a loud thud as something—her apartment door?—banged forcefully against a wall. Chipping away some of the plaster, by the sound of it.

  “Chloe!”

  What the—

  “Chloe, where the hell are you?”

  Nathaniel?

  No, it couldn’t be. He was still in Wales. He had no idea where she lived, anyway. Besides, why would he be here? Unless…

  Tears stung her eyes as she realized Deryk might have returned to the castle after she left with Keith and demanded Nathaniel find her and silence her once and for all. Although in her present state, that might be a blessing. Chloe certainly had no strength left to fight h
im, if that should prove to be the case.

  “Chloe!” Nathaniel, looking ominous in a black T-shirt and black jeans covering that tall and muscular body, suddenly filled the space of the doorway to her bedroom.

  His dark hair was disheveled, his face deathly white, green eyes glittering.

  Glowing?

  Chloe closed her eyes. Not again! She was already insane with lust. She didn’t need any of that other shit muddling up her head again.

  The bed dipped beside her before she was gathered up in a pair of strong arms and crushed against a muscular chest.

  Nathaniel’s chest.

  He really was here.

  Nathaniel felt all the tension and emptiness of the past few days evaporate the moment he held Chloe in his arms again.

  Home.

  That was what she was to him now, he realized. The void that had been inside him all his life, and which had been even more intense these past few days, was completely filled by simply holding Chloe in his arms.

  She couldn’t seem to control her trembling. “Did you break the door to my apartment?”

  “Only the lock.”

  “In that case, you can pay to have it fixed.” She glanced up at him. “Are you here to kill me?”

  “I swear to the Goddess, I am going to tan your bare backside if you say that one more time,” he breathed out shakily.

  She glanced up at him with feverish eyes. “The way I’m feeling right now, it would be a welcome relief if you would kindly put me out of my misery.”

  Nathaniel gave a choked laugh, happier than he could possibly describe at hearing Chloe’s sarcasm again.

  But he wasn’t at all happy to see her in such obvious discomfort.

  He pulled back slightly. Chloe looked every bit as distraught as he’d imagined she might after he had talked with Dylan. Her hair stuck to her temples and nape, her cheeks were flushed, and her body was burning up with fever. Lust fever? It certainly looked that way. “How long have you been like this?”

  She groaned. “Ever since I got back from Wales.”

  Dylan was right. He and Chloe had kissed, and the mating had already begun. And if Chloe felt even half as bad as he did, then she was in extreme discomfort. A discomfort that could only be assuaged by the two of them having sex together. As often as Chloe could take it.