by Alyse Zaftig
One click of the mouse and the screensaver sprung back to life, mesmerizing and brain numbing.
I wasn’t going to find the answers I needed here, I had to go to the source itself. I had to make him tell me. Make him understand that if he didn’t help me find a way out of this hole, he wasn’t coming back.
Out in the hallway, I paused, listening to the creak of the house shifting in its foundation, the whoosh of water draining through pipes, the wind whistling against the windows. And a soft thwack thwack carried on the air. Following my ears, I pulled open a door, descending into the bowels of the house, eyeing cobwebs illuminated by a swinging naked bulb and wafting a hand in front of my eyes to beat away the faint shower of dust coming from the ceiling. Naked beams snaked above me, the floor below me a thick slab of concrete, but that wasn’t what drew my attention nor was it what kept it.
A large bag swung in the middle of the shadowy room, swinging back and forth from a metal chain looped around one of the many beams. The faint sound I had followed echoed loud and clear as his fists pounded into the bag, his weight driving it forward in sharp, potent jabs. Muscles coiled and sweat dripping off him, he danced around the rotating target, sweatpants hanging low on his slim hips, teasing glimpses of abs rippling as the light caught and flashed off his slick skin. Power barely constrained curled his lips as he unleashed his fury on the inanimate object.
He was beautiful. Deadly.
Captivating.
A soft groan left my lips before I could bite back the sound, my knees weak as I clung to the rail.
He spun on light feet. The bag swung back.
I uttered what I thought was a cry of warning.
His arm snapped out, halting the bag in it’s tracks with a single finger. Lips still curled, he regarded me with a look I couldn’t even begin to fathom. Tension radiated from him, steam rising and curling into the air, his eyes flashed with silver sparks as his pupils dilated to round orbs. “What do you want from me?” He didn’t snap, didn’t shout. His voice was smooth and liquid.
An enticement to stay away.
To come closer if I dared.
Did I dare tease the dragon in his lair?
Chapter 4
Bastian
Her scent arrived before she did, filling my lungs and tightening my chest, until acid ran through my veins and ate away at my insides, demanding and unrelenting.
It filled me with pain. Pain—of denying everything natural and right. Of denying her.
Why should I fight it? She’d make a good mate. She’d give me the children I craved. But she’d demand love. Hell, she’d deserve to be loved, and that was something I wasn’t willing to give.
She hovered at the bottom of the steps, her hesitation curling one hand into the wood and bracing the other against her stomach. Delicate fingers plucked at the fabric of her blouse, teasing the cotton in a rhythmic motion that echoed the sound of her thundering heart.
Did she know what she was doing to me? Did she understand how close to the edge I was? The relentless ache grew behind my eyes, throbbing and insistent as need clawed at me.
She hadn’t answered my question—she had barely even breathed since laying eyes on me. Her deep brown gaze was caressing as it learned my body in a way that almost felt like a violation. That was, if it hadn’t felt so damn good. She wanted me, I could read it in her reluctance, in the way she clung to the steps as if they were her only chance of keeping away. Her breasts strained with every breath, her nipples beaded, hard and visible through the soft cotton. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, her lips barely parted and eyelids lowering, but not breaking away.
The workout hadn’t helped. I thought it had, had fooled myself by thinking I had it under control. Bullshit. One look at her and I knew I was losing the battle. My dragon obviously didn’t give a shit. He was happy to let me continue to slide into oblivion and drag her down with me.
He didn’t care. So, why should I?
She doesn’t deserve this! I shouted at him inside my head, begging him for help, the strength to resist what fate insisted I take. She deserves better than me. Than us!
He didn’t answer, but his claws raked down my insides. Telling me what? I didn’t know.
She cleared her throat, choosing exactly the wrong moment to speak, unaware that inside, I was waging a war—with my soul. “I want to know you, Bastian.”
Fucking hell, Faye. Wrong answer.
My control snapped, her words shredding what remained of my resistance. A deafening roar blotted out all thought, my feet were moving, three strides and I had her pinned against the wall, her ass filling my hands as her legs spread around me. I growled, sliding a hand up into her hair and dragging her head back, my lips crashing down on hers and claiming what was mine. Plump and soft, her lips moved beneath mine, a startled yelp escaping. I swallowed her protest, seizing the opportunity, my tongue spearing deep into her mouth and tasting.
Fuck. My every cell vibrated with how right this felt.
Her hands crept up my back, sliding over my skin and molding to my shoulders. Blunt nails dug in, a soft whimper breathed into my mouth, her tongue tentatively dueling with mine. Back arching, her hips thrust forward, grinding against my painfully hard shaft, rubbing and teasing as she responded beautifully.
Sliding my hand around, I cupped her breast, rolling her nipple back and forth as my hips rocked into hers. I deepened the kiss, the world fuzzy and indistinct around us, the feel of her nails scratching up my back, her fingers reaching up and threading through my hair, tugging my head in a bid to fight for the right to claim me as her own.
She was it. The one. My other half. There was no denying the triumph running through my soul, sinking into my heart and squeezing.
The roar in my ears cut off. My hand slid from under her ass, lowering her back to the floor. I stumbled, my lips breaking free. Air floated between us as I staggered back, my mind bending under the knowledge. This was it. I could claim her or set her free.
No! I don’t know who shrieked inside my head; my dragon or myself? I didn’t care. He didn’t get a choice in the matter. His claws tore into me, his roars faint and unheard, his demands insignificant.
She is the path to redemption.
Lies.
This is what you need to forgive.
Forgive who? You? Never.
Flexing my hands, I wrenched my eyes from hers, shoving my dragon back and caging him inside my mind. My chest heaved, the air burning my lungs. Sweat cooled on my skin, cold infusing me and working its way into my bones. He didn’t have the right to speak now, not after staying silent for so long. I was in charge.
I made the decisions.
Faye
I was rapidly losing the fight with my knees, my traitorous legs intent on hitting the floor. Keeping my eyes pressed shut, I sucked in a gulp of cool air, forcing it down into lungs that struggled to remember their purpose, my breath coming out in raspy gushes. I could still feel him on my lips, the flesh tender and bruised from his lustful attack. I could still taste him on my tongue, rich and unique. Addicting. I could feel his strength surrounding me. Holding me. Protecting me from the world and it’s evil.
Not like my douchebag ex-husband, who’d used his superior strength to bully and belittle. Little nudges and withheld caresses to drive home the fact that I was weaker. Worthless. Ugly. Chipping away at my sanity until I believed every word out of his rotten, stinking, lying mouth. Playing with my mind until I cracked, unable to carry on with his game.
Not like that.
I sucked in another breath, this one less of a struggle. In Bastian’s arms I’d felt both unbreakable and fragile at the same time, his large hands caressing me with a firmness that fired my blood, but with a gentleness that warmed my heart. His body telling me without a shadow of a doubt how much he wanted me. Desired me. And—for that single moment before he possessed me—his eyes had locked onto me, like he couldn’t do anything but kiss me. Like he’d rather touch me than bre
athe.
But, why did he stop? I blinked open my eyes, reality rushing up to greet me.
He stood a few steps away, not moving an inch, the only sign of life was his chest rising, then falling, and a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“Bastian—”
“Why are you here?” He ground the words out through a jaw set with tension.
“I told you—”
“No. Why are you here?” He flicked a hand out, indicating the basement.
“Oh. I thought you meant…” My voice trailed off at the look in his eyes, the raw hunger burning in the sapphire blue, silver flames leaping up and dancing in the bottomless depths.
“You need to leave.” Blunt. To the point. No room for argument.
I might have believed him, from his rigid stance to the grim set to his mouth, but his eyes continued to burn through me, scorching in their intensity and flickering with indecision. He might need me to leave, but he sure as hell didn’t look like he wanted me to. I didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on here, but if he thought I was the kind of woman he could kiss into a puddle, then yank the rug out from under, he had another thing coming. I might not have been born with a backbone, but I’d sure as hell grown one over the last year. No man made my decisions for me. Not anymore. “Why did you do it?”
He shook his head at my question, his feigned indifference morphing into a now familiar smirk. “Sweetheart, do you really not know how fucking hot you are?” Dark hair flopped down into his eyes, making him hard to read.
My fingers itched with the need to brush his hair back and reveal his inner thoughts. I wanted to peer into his soul, search out his demons, and demand they give me answers.
“That’s not what I meant—but thanks, anyway.” I shot him a grimace, I’d never been good at accepting compliments. Time to see if he could pass the test. “What I really want to know is why did you gamble all the money away? Why did you arrange for your sister to be mated off to the highest bidder?” What are you hiding from me, from the world?
“Three alphas, each powerful and rich enough to provide her with everything she could possibly need. You say it like it’s a bad thing,” he replied, choosing to focus on my second question. Surprise, surprise.
But we were getting somewhere—talking. “She didn’t want them. You didn’t even ask!”
“No. She chose true love.” He uttered the statement with so much lack of inflection, I had to ask.
“Do you not believe?” A strange thing for a shifter. Their culture was built upon finding their true mate—the one person who would mean more to them than anything else in the world. If only humans were built like that. I bit back the sigh, waiting for him to answer.
“In love? It’s a pretty idea for some people.”
I opened my mouth to press him, but he beat me to it, “I didn’t force her to mate with any of them.” He swiped a hand through his hair, pushing it back and revealing eyes dark with anguish. “Hell, once I knew she’d found love, I worked with them to find a way out of the mess.”
“A mess that you’d set in motion.”
“Agreed.” He shrugged, as if daring me to lay the blame at his feet, and equally willing to shoulder it. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness, or understanding, he claimed everything I threw at him. But the emphasis he’d put on love had me questioning his real motives.
“I thought shifters believed in love.”
“Do you?”
I flinched, despite having expected the retaliation and prepared myself. “I did. Sometimes I still do.” He was being honest with me; it was only fair I did the same. I clung to the hope that there was a happy ever after out there for me, a man who’d lift me up rather than beat me down.
“Who hurt you? What happened?” His words were like bullets seeking a target. A quick glance confirmed his anger, clear in the bulge of his muscles as they flexed taut, and in his eyes as they promised retribution in my name.
“I was married.” I offered the information grudgingly, unsure why I was telling him.
Tension bracketed his mouth, pulling his jaw even tighter. “You’re not now?”
“No.”
A jerky nod. “Good. He might live.”
Might. Despite giving myself a stern talking to, his words fanned a soft flame in my belly. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
I call bullshit. Pushing away from my spot on the wall, I yanked my so-called backbone out of the trash and pinned it in place. Three steps and I was halfway to him, staring into his fathomless eyes. “I think you do.”
He jerked back, but his feet don’t move. “Don’t come any closer,” came his snapped out plea.
I hesitated. “Why?”
“It’s not safe. I’m not safe.”
“But—”
His lips twisted. “You don’t want me—want this. You’re just curious. You think it might be fun. Thrilling. An adventure. And it would be, then you’d realize I’m not what you think. That I’m broken. A man not worth your time or attention. Then you’d leave,” he drawled in a voice hard and unyielding.
I didn’t know what to say, what to think. He spoke these words, expecting me to understand, but I didn’t have the first clue where to begin. “I didn’t come here—”
“To fuck me? No, you came to fuck me over, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I don’t do complicated fucks, and I’m not completely led by my cock. Though, if it’s an itch you want obliterating, then I’m your man.”
The anger in his voice had me flinching away.
His mouth untwisted, lifting in a genuine smile. “Now you get it.” Then he stalked off, brushing past me and striding up the stairs, leaving me staring after him.
Did he just offer to fuck me, no strings attached?
God help me. I think he did.
And, hell in a handbasket, I was actually considering it.
Chapter 5
Bastian
Footsteps followed me up the stairs, slow and steady. Did she ever give up? I had to give her credit where credit was due, once she got her teeth into something, she clung on. She was a lot like me in that regard. SAF, as Astrid had once called it. Stubborn As Fuck.
Spinning around, I stared her down. “What?”
Folding her arms, she rocked back on her heels, not backing down.
It was even worse now that I knew how she felt, how she tasted, the soft sounds she made when kissed within an inch of her life.
“You never told me why you did it.”
Oh. That. Yeah, and I wasn’t going to tell her. “And if I don’t?”
“You’ll lose the clan. Your home. Everything.”
“Because you’ll put a tick in the box to make that happen?” I demanded. I wouldn’t blame her if she did, anyone else would do the same.
“Because I won’t be able to save you,” she beseeched me with her words, her eyes.
Her soft words knocked the air clean out of my lungs, a sucker punch to the chest. I looked away, examining the wall to her left. “What makes you think I want saving?” I finally croaked out.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Everyone—”
“Not everyone, sweetheart.” Only those who deserved saving.
“But, why?”
Blowing out a stream of hot air, I glanced back at her. Worry creased her brow, lines of exasperation tugging at her mouth. I was upsetting her, just by being me. A perfect example of why I was doing the right thing. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”
“No.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn?”
“Yep.”
“It’s not a compliment, you know.” Leaning back against the wall, I shoved my hands into my pockets, just in case they got the bright idea that reaching for her was okay.
Copying me, she braced a shoulder and hip against the fading paint, her arms dropping to clasp in front of her, fingers twinning together in a lose bracelet. Her hair curled over her shoulder, honey-brown spirals I longed to twist around m
y fingers. When I didn’t speak, she arched a single eyebrow, pursing her lips in silent disapproval.
I looked away. I didn’t want to see her eyes as I told her the truth. “I gambled because I didn’t have anything else to lose. Because…” My voice seized, unable to force the complete truth out past my lips. I couldn’t tell her that it was the only way I could make the clan strong enough to have an alpha unable to shift at it’s helm. I just couldn’t. “…I owed it to my parents to try and rebuild the clan.”
“What did you lose?”
I held out my hands. “Everything.”
A moment, then, “Your sister?”
She understood. Enough to leave me alone, anyway. “Her too. So, now you know. Decide which box you’re going to tick then leave me the hell alone.”
It hurt like a thousand razor blades cutting into my skin, but I refused to look, to see the judgment in her eyes as I walked away.
It was for her own good.
And my sanity.
This time, no footsteps followed me.
Faye
The days passed in a rush of work induced highs, ego-crashing lows when I discovered fatal flaws in my solution, and sweat inducing nights of tangled sheets and thrashing legs. Alone.
But the days had passed—three of them to be precise—and I was no closer to saving Bastian from getting the ax.
The man in question slipped in and out of his office, answering questions he deemed important enough, and avoiding me when he felt like it. Always fully dressed, usually in jeans and a shirt, his hair dripping onto his collar and slicked back from his face, blue eyes calm and assessing, as though he expected something from me.
But what?
In the evening, I had taken to settling on the couch in front of the fireplace and curling up with a cup of cocoa and a good book, giving my brain a rest from all the numbers and squiggly lines. On the first evening, less than ten minutes later Bastian had been crouched at the hearth, building a fire, and nearly giving me a heart attack when he reached in to move a burning log around with his bare hands. Dragon shifter he might be, considerate of the jumpy human, he definitely wasn’t. Then he’d settled into a chair kitty-corner to the couch, settling one leg over his knee, brandy in one hand, and a book in the other, one obviously well thumbed by the cracks to the spine and the tattered edges. That first night we sat in silence, the only noise that of the crackling fire and the odd spit of a spark jumping out of the hearth.