by Meg Ripley
April took his wrist and pulled him onto the bed, cradling him between her legs. He hooked her knees over his hips and the tip of his cock nudged against her. She caught her breath, entranced by the light shining from his eyes. He shifted forward and time slowed, her vision wavering as the mark on her thigh flared to life and his cock slid home.
“Oh my god.” The low moan did more to reassure her than any words ever could. The pure pleasure in his voice could not be denied. For the space of a heartbeat neither of them moved, her tight channel adjusting to his thick rod of flesh. “God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.”
“Please fuck me,” she whispered.
He smiled. “I’m working on it.” He rotated his hips while he was still buried inside of her, and the lights went off behind her eyes. She choked out a word of encouragement, and he did it again. The motion was so slight, but it contained the promise of his power. She clenched around him, vibrating with need, her hips jerking on their own accord. He leaned back and thrust forward to meet her, their bodies fusing and then breaking apart again.
The rhythm they established was one of give and take, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, like dancers following an ancient drumbeat. Her heart thudded in her ears, but not so loudly that she couldn’t hear his gasps of pleasure, his moans and words of encouragement. He cupped her breasts, his fingers rolling over her hard nipples. She arched into his touch, her pleasure increasing exponentially with every squeeze, every touch, every thrust.
“Harder.” With her legs locked around him, she begged him for more. Their mouths clashed, tongues dueling. He kissed her deeply, possessing her completely, igniting a fuse at the base of her spine. Her earlier orgasm was already a distant memory, nothing more than an echo in her cells, and her body ached for another like the desert aches for rain.
His hand moved from her breast to her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her throat. He kissed from her mouth to her chin and down to her pulse point. Her racing heart jumped at the touch, her pulse hammering against his mouth. Why or how that was the gesture that unlocked her torrent of emotions, she couldn’t say. All she knew was between the ragged gasps for breaths she blurted the truth.
“I love you, Mads.”
He shuddered, shifting his angle to grind against her clit with each shallow stroke. Her disappointment was lost in a red haze of fresh bliss, carrying her to the top of the mountain. She hovered there for just a moment and then she was soaring into the stars, her climax so intense that he couldn’t withstand it. He slammed into her with a final grunt and then they collapsed together in a pile of sweaty limbs and heaving chests.
“I love you, too, mein Schatz.”
“What does that mean,” she murmured against his shoulder.
“My darling.”
April smiled, her earlier sadness and fear completely obliterated. She believed him. She was his darling. And he was her dragon.
“Do we have to go back to work right away?” she asked.
“I planned to get some sleep first.”
“No, I mean, tomorrow. Can we have a little vacation, just the two of us?”
“I think that’s an excellent idea.”
“Somewhere alone. Where there’s no people.”
“We can do that.”
“And I can see the dragon again?”
“Darling, you can see anything you want, have anything you want, be anything you want. Just tell me and the world is yours.”
“I don’t need the world.” She nuzzled in closer to his chest, closing her eyes and inhaling the scent of his skin and sweat. “I just need to be with you.”
ONE MONTH LATER
The red dress was as inexplicable as it was beautiful. April gently took the material between her finger and thumb and held it out, her mouth running dry at the lushness of the silk, the vibrant color, the tailored silhouette. It was the finest item of clothing she’d ever touched, but she had no idea where it came from, why it was in her suite, or what she was meant to do with it.
“Whose dress is this?” she asked, fingers gliding over the bodice. Tiny glittering stones studded the neckline, and upon closer inspection, she realized they were diamonds.
“It’s yours, mein Schatz.”
April heard the smile in Mads’ voice and turned to meet his golden green eyes. “Mine? That’s not my dress.”
His smile didn’t fade. “It is now.”
“Oh, but...I couldn’t…”
“Why not?” A frown crept in around his eyes. “Aren’t I allowed to give you gifts?”
“Allowed? Yes, of course, very much allowed.” The last thing she wanted to do was discourage his generosity. “But, I just…” Heat flooded her cheeks. “I don’t know if it’ll fit.”
Now the frown spread to his lips. “Why not? It was made to your measurements.”
April’s mouth ran dry and she tried to stifle the white-hot rush of embarrassment, but her voice still trembled slightly when she asked, “You know my measurements?”
“Of course. You’re my mate.”
The earlier embarrassment was turning into anger—a typical response for her. Anger was easier to handle than humiliation. “And somehow that fact gives you personal information about my body?”
“Yes, it does.” He took her hand, pulling her towards him. She didn’t resist, but only because she was always eager to feel his body against hers. His hand ran down her spine, coming to a rest on the curve of her ass, his other arm wrapped in a possessive band around her shoulders. “I know all there is to know about the shape of your body. If you do not like the dress, I will have it removed, but I do hope you’ll at least try it on for me.”
April took a deep, even breath. It was clear he didn’t understand her reaction to the beautiful gift, and now she only felt embarrassed again. Her insecurities around her body always seemed to perplex him, and they were beginning to frustrate her. Still, she couldn’t resist one last effort to avoid trying on the garment.
“I don’t know if that color will look good on me.”
“That shade will look very fetching on you. Especially with your coloring.”
The hot tendrils of embarrassment still crawled through her stomach. The dress didn’t look like her regular size 28, and she feared the color would make her look like a big, round tomato, but the dress was gorgeous and it was a very sweet gesture. What would be the harm in trying it on? Nobody would see her but Mads, and he preferred to see her without any clothes on at all, so the dress wouldn’t be missed once she tore it off.
“I’ll try it on,” she said, giving him a good squeeze before stepping out of his arms.
The zipper on the back gave her another reason to be concerned, but she dropped her robe and stepped into the dress, pulling it over her hips and around her bust. The fit was snug, but not tight, and when Mads stepped behind her to zip it, the teeth closed smoothly. She straightened the skirt and adjusted her breasts inside the fitted cups. It left her arms and shoulders exposed, but the sight of her bare arms didn’t detract from the beauty of the dress. In fact, she barely noticed her arms when she saw her reflection.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“You’re beautiful.” Mads stepped behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. “We’ll make a very dashing couple tonight.”
“Where are we going?” It didn’t matter where they went, as long as she was on his arm.
“Dinner and the opera.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I must go prepare myself. The car will be here at seven.”
“I’ll be ready.” She tilted her head back and kissed his jaw. “I love you.”
He moved quickly, catching her mouth with his and claiming it in a long, deep kiss. His free hand went to her breast and she arched against his palm, forgetting the new dress and their surprise date, wanting nothing more than to fan the flames kindled deep inside her. She loved the way he kissed her, the way his body felt against hers, hard every
where she was soft, and yet his flesh was yielding, welcoming to her.
“I love you, too, mein Schatz. I’ll be back at 6:45.”
“I’ll be waiting. Oh, will you unzip this for me?”
It was hard to let him go, but once he closed the door behind him, her attention went back to the exquisite dress. The skirt flared out below her hips, moving beautifully around her legs when she did a test twirl. The bodice accentuated her breasts with a sweetheart cut, showing off just enough cleavage. The color did not make her look like a tomato at all. Mads had been right about the shade—it did compliment her natural golden hue very well.
April checked the time—she had a little more than an hour to do her hair and makeup. She didn’t know if she had the skill to do justice to such a dress, but she couldn’t waste any time. Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she carefully laid the dress on her bed and grabbed her makeup bag. They’d been out together since they arrived in Florence, but only during the day, and only briefly. He’d asked her each night what she wanted to do, offering her anything her heart desired, but she only wanted him.
Perhaps he needs a bit of a break, she thought with a wry smile. On the other hand, a mere mortal would have probably demanded a break much sooner. If she bordered on insatiable, his hunger for her was ravenous. Sometimes, when he was buried inside of her, she wondered if it was the man or the dragon who craved her the most. It was the dragon’s eyes she saw the most these days; twin golden rings staring at her as though he could see every secret and hidden space she carried inside.
She’d only seen the dragon itself once: nearly a month earlier, when he saved her life from another dragon. Chester Maelstrom had turned homicidal and then had morphed into a dragon with a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. She didn’t think about him much, but she still dreamed of being chased and cornered. What if Mads hadn’t crashed through the glass ceiling when he had? The answer was easy—she would have been turned into dragon food. But Mads had arrived in time, killing her attacker and marking her as his.
Since that time, they’d been on holiday. She couldn’t believe Mads would take such an extended break from his work, but when she asked about it, he’d only smiled and said, “It’ll be waiting for me when we return.” April wasn’t going to argue. She’d never had the chance to travel, and Mads owned hotels around the world. Florence was her favorite city so far, but there was still so much to see. He’d promised her Berlin, Paris and Prague.
She shrugged her robe on before moving to the brightly lit vanity mirror. It obscured most of her body from view, but the top of her knee was visible, as was the bottom of the red mark he’d left on her thigh. He’d promised to answer any and all of her questions—and she had a lot—but she never asked about the mark. Not because the mark itself bothered her. It was the memory of the dragon and the way his member had grown, reached for her, sought her. She’d been terrified, but beneath her hot flash of fear had been undeniable excitement. She didn’t know how to explain it or qualify it. She didn’t even know how to discuss it with Mads, and she had no other secrets from him.
April traced the edge, but there was no sensitivity. When Mads touched her there, it felt like the dragon had returned to drench her body in flames. She smiled at the memory of his mouth moving over the mark but shook it off before it could completely distract her. She had to get ready. They were going out—she’d keep him in bed all day tomorrow to make up for it.
“Now,” she asked her reflection, “what should be done with this hair?”
****
An entire pack of paparazzi waited outside the opera house when they arrived, and the rapid flash of bulbs blinded April. People shouted for their attention, flinging random questions and demanding explanations. Any other time, that would have been April’s living nightmare, but Mads was so handsome and her dress was so exquisite, she felt like a Hollywood star on the red carpet, and even knowing the pictures would be splashed across newspapers around the world didn’t shake her confidence.
Once inside, Mads led her to his private box right above the stage. The seats were plush and comfortable, and when the lights went down, her hand found his thigh. He rested his fingers over her, stroking absently over her knuckles while she gently massaged him. She wanted to do so much more than that—and she was certain she could get away with it in the privacy of their box—but he seemed genuinely excited for the performance.
April had never been to the opera in her life—and she didn’t understand a word of Italian—but she found herself entranced by their beautiful voices and the pure spectacle on the stage. When she looked away, it was only to study the handsome man beside her. She’d never seen Mads dressed like this and the sight of him continuously took her breath away.
It took her by surprise when the lights came up and Mads folded her hand in his. “Intermission. Would you care for a refreshment?”
“Champagne would be lovely.”
He led her out of their box and down to the lobby, guiding her so she was free to stare at the ornate beauty surrounding her. When she thought about how old the opera house must have been, how many important and famous people had walked through this very hall, how beautiful every inch of the building was, it made her feel as though she must be dreaming. A dream that went on and on and she never wanted to wake from.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Mads asked as he handed her the flute.
“Yes, this is amazing.” She didn’t understand a word of the opera, but she did know the basic story of Orpheus and his doomed attempt to save his love from hell. “Though I do wish I knew more.”
“Perhaps I should apologize for dragging you here.”
“No, not at all,” she said quickly. “I’ve never had an evening like this in my life. Besides, you can explain all the finer points to me later tonight.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
He brought the glass to his lips but he didn’t look away from her, and she saw something in his eyes that she didn’t recognize—something warm and hungry, and she almost took a step towards him. She felt drawn to touch him, but feared that if she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
“How...how were you able to get such wonderful seats?” April asked, surprised by how dry her voice sounded.
“That’s my box. I enjoy the opera. It’s one of the few things in this world that doesn’t change. La favola d'Orfeo sounds the same now as it did in 1607.”
April didn’t often think about the reality of Mads’ age—it was too much to wrap her mind around, somehow. She didn’t know his precise age, but she knew he’d seen centuries pass him by. He first heard this opera four hundred years ago, and he’d likely still be listening to it four hundred years from now. She’d be dead by then. She tilted her head and downed the rest of her champagne.
“Well, look who it is. I should have known you wouldn’t have the decency to stay in hiding for very long.”
Mads turned and greeted Savannah Maelstrom with a smooth smile. “Savannah. Charles. I forgot you were fans of the opera.” He spoke as though their last meeting did not end in bloody death.
Charles Maelstrom looked like an older, stockier version of his son, Chester, but his eyes flashed with anger. April stepped closer to Mads.
“You have some nerve, showing your face here tonight.” Savannah’s voice cracked with the force of her rage, and color climbed her cheeks.
“I always attend the opening of the season. I am sorry for your loss, Savannah, but I believe it is more fitting for you to sit at home and grieve.”
“How dare you,” Charles growled. “I should have you arrested.”
“On what charges?” He sounded more curious than concerned, as though they were discussing something purely hypothetical. April merely wondered what had stopped Charles from calling the police a month ago. Perhaps dragons did not welcome humans in their affairs.
“The murder of my son,” he bit out.
“Your son intended to blackmail me. In the process, he nearly dev
oured my mate. His punishment fit his crimes.”
“Your mate.” Savannah sneered the word, her beautiful features twisting into something ugly. Monstrous. “You shouldn’t be so cruel to the girl, Mads. She’s nothing more than your plaything.”
Charles touched his wife’s arm. “Savannah, we should get back to our seats.”
“Listen to your husband, my dear.”
But she gave no sign of hearing either of them. “How could she be your mate when she could never bear your son? How can she be your mate when she will never know how it feels to fly or snap bones between her teeth? How can she be your mate when she’s dead and you go on living for centuries more?”
Mads took a half step forward, his eyes narrowed and his voice so low it sounded more like a growl. He didn’t make a single move to touch her, but she still flinched back from the weight of his gaze and the pure sense of power radiating from him. April caught the moment of confused indecision on Charles’ face—like he knew he needed to put himself between his wife and a threat, but he had no desire to be caught in the middle.
“You never were one for subtlety, were you my dear? Know this. If anything happens to April, I will come for you. If she so much as stubs her toe, I will make you pay for her pain. And if you see me again, don’t come whining to me about your worthless son or I will take your entire clan from you and leave you staked to a mountain of their bones.”
The bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission.
“Enjoy the rest of the show,” Mads said, his voice returning to normal. “Come, mein Schatz.”
April took his arm and let him lead her away from the Maelstroms’ smoldering anger. She waited until they were safely seated before whispering, “What the hell was that?”
“She intends to kill you.”