“Witty and mysterious.” The Draekon stepped closer until his chest was just within reach. Janelle’s fingers itched to touch it, to slide down those well-muscled arms clad in white silk. “You are the perfect gift for my first Christmas.”
“My mother always celebrated Christmas. It was her favorite human holiday. She always tried to get it right, even though she didn’t always understand it.” Janelle smiled, then her smile vanished when she realized she’d just given up an important piece of information. Something she was supposed to keep to herself. Something that would make it easier for them to hunt her down.
“A mixed-blood woman, even more mysterious.” His eyes slid to her ears, with their slightly pointed ends expertly concealed under her hair. Whoever he was, his mind was as sharp as his smile. “Merry Christmas to you, then.”
Her cheeks reddened and she turned away. She had to leave. She took a step toward the front of the throne room, intent on slipping out of the party and back into the shadows where she belonged.
Her life depended on it.
A hand on her upper arm stopped her. She didn’t pull, didn’t move. She just froze. The contact of the Draekon’s hand on the naked skin of her arm was like an electric shock on her body. She wanted nothing more than to turn and look at him again, but she didn’t trust the way her tongue kept betraying her when she spoke to him.
“Let me go.” Janelle didn’t bother softening her tone, her back still to him.
“Not before you tell me who you are.”
The Draekon’s fingers dug into her naked flesh, searing hot and merciless. Reluctantly, she turned and met his silver stare. He wasn’t grinning anymore. His silver eyes gleamed with a cold resolve and his mouth was stretched in a thin, cruel line.
Gone was the innocent flirting of the moment before.
“I’m not telling you anything,” Janelle answered through clenched teeth, keeping her voice low so as not to attract unwanted attention. She’d gotten all the unwanted attention she could handle already. “Now let me go and I’ll leave Whispering Castle.”
The Draekon stepped closer, not letting go of her arm. Heat radiated from his body as he towered above her from his regal height. Janelle tried to look away, tried to pull her arm free, but she was paralyzed. From the corner of her eye, she saw people glance their way, then whisper animatedly to each other.
So much for not attracting attention.
Anger rose as her fear of failure took hold. Darrick didn’t have a forgiving nature at the best of times, and he’d sent her on this mission with rare asperity. Like he couldn’t afford for her to fail. And that meant she couldn’t afford it either.
She opened her mouth to tell the Draekon man to get lost, to find another woman to annoy, but she was silenced by the sudden music invading the room. People all around exclaimed and laughed.
Couples started to dance, twirling to the sound of an elegant, fast rhythm.
Suddenly, the Draekon’s hand on her arm jerked her forward. She landed flat against his wide, hard chest and his arm immediately wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly in place.
“Take your hands off me!” Janelle almost growled the words, low and angry. This was not how things were supposed to go down.
“Not before you dance with me.”
Chapter 2
Dalgo reached for her small, dainty hand and yanked just hard enough to pull her into him. She let out a tiny cry of surprise but his arms were already around her. Her ample, soft breasts pressed against the silk of his shirt as he dug his fingertips into the small of her back. Her supple feminine body molded to his in all the right places and his cock stirred, as stubborn and eager as ever.
Two beautiful, dusty blue eyes stared up at him, brimming with defiance. The mask that covered the top half of her face was silver like her dress, adorned with feathers as pitch black as her raven hair, which was piled on top of her head in an intricate style, exposing her long, swan-like neck but hiding the telltale shape of her ears. Her jawline was strong and square, but not to the point of being masculine. She was smaller than him, but not as small as some, the top of her head stopping just below his so he could simply lean in to kiss her.
An impulse to take those full, red lips overcame him, to grab that rounded chin and hold it between his fingers until she melted under his mouth. Dalgo stifled it just in time.
What was wrong with him? The woman was obviously in Whispering Castle for more than just the ball. That she had been about to flee through the back door was ample enough proof of that.
That she had dared to smiled at him that way, flirt with open confidence, was even more.
No one dared jest with him. He was the Captain of the Guard to High Lord Aldric Darragon, Draekon to Myral, the fiercest black dragoness of known memory. No. No man or woman dared provoke him.
Yet, this intriguing, maddeningly curvy woman had. And he intended to learn why.
Around them, people danced, twirling and twisting to a waltz, the women’s long gowns spreading around them like blooming flowers.
The mystery woman opened her mouth to speak.
And Dalgo brought her into the dance.
She followed, accepting his lead with an ease that pleased him. Her body moved as he led her through the dancers, making his way between the couples like birds in a flock. Effortlessly.
“I don’t dance.” She spoke in a low voice as he led her through the dense crowd at the Christmas ball. “And I don’t appreciate being led against my will.”
“You seem to dance just fine to me.”
Dalgo stared from the curve of her neck at her milky shoulder all the way to the swell of her breasts. Her dusty blue eyes appraised him, not shying away from his direct, aggressive stare. No, this woman wasn’t a guest. She had no idea who he was. If she had, she wouldn’t be defying him like this. That made him even more curious.
“But that still doesn’t tell me who is behind that mask,” he went on.
A tilt of her head and a small grin answered his question, but she remained stubbornly coy. “Why would you want to know who I am?”
“How could I not want to know who you are?” The words left his mouth without his permission and he regretted nothing of what he’d said. Because it was true. “As soon as I laid eyes on you, I couldn’t look away. I’m a prisoner of your charms.”
The woman chuckled lightly, her head bending down just a smidge, exposing her gorgeous throat.
Dalgo quieted the sudden growl that rose into his chest and his fingers dug deeper into the woman’s back. His cock stirred painfully and her eyes flickered with alarm as she no doubt felt the stiffness of it on her stomach.
This was all sorts of wrong. He wasn’t normally one to lose sight of his sanity because of lust.
As the waltz’s rhythm morphed into a dizzying polka, Dalgo led her into the dance amongst the throng, faster than before. Faster than a human woman could hope to follow.
Her hand held on harder to his arm and her fingers traced his bicep as she stared at him. Her mouth hung slightly open, and Dalgo found himself staring at the pink of her tongue. Her breath reached his lips and the feminine scent of her entered his nostrils.
The world narrowed into a tunnel and the only person at the other end was the woman.
Then she lost her footing. She tumbled forward and his instincts took over. His arms closed around her and he pulled her against his chest. The warmth of her skin pierced the silk of his shirt and he inhaled her smell. Her perfume was subtle and floral, and underneath it he could make out the unmistakable smell of female arousal. His arms trapped her there, and her slender fingers closed around his arms, tracing softly upward.
Her eyes became dreamy and vague, and her gaze went to his lips. His hand returned to the small of her back and he pressed her against him, making his arousal clear. Her eyes widened but she didn’t push him away.
All around them, the other dancers twirled and moved, glancing at them with open curiosity. Dalgo wanted to look
away, wanted to free himself from her body, but all his fingers did was spread across the small of her back and slide down to her glorious, round ass.
He wanted this woman. He wanted this woman like he’d never wanted a woman before.
His mind screamed to let her go. That he was the Captain of the Guard and had a duty to protect the castle on this night. That on this night of all nights, his kingdom was vulnerable to attacks as Whispering Castle was flooded with guests from the far corners of the continent.
But his reason had a small, hushed voice and as much as it wanted to be heard, it was too weak.
Whispers and giggles came from all around, just over the music, but they were far away, like a crowd in the distance.
All that mattered was the woman in his arms and her eyes on him, her lips just below his.
Then he kissed her.
His lips closed around hers, soft and yielding to his hardness. Her eyes shut as her mouth parted slightly in invitation and Dalgo’s tongue slid inside, wasting no time. Her taste invaded his mouth, clean and female as her tongue laced with his. His lips massaged hers, demanding total submission to his desire, to his will.
She bent to his claim so easily, so willingly, a tide of lust overtook him.
He couldn’t have enough of her. Dalgo’s hands ran over the silver and lace of her gown, taking in her feminine curves, committing them to memory, carving them on his mind.
Like she was his. Like he had a right to her written in the laws of the universe.
He pressed her stomach to his with his large hand and his arousal surged against the soft flesh of her belly. Janelle moaned into his mouth.
She’s mine.
It didn’t matter how or why. Didn’t matter whether it was insane or dangerous. He wanted this woman to be his, wanted to tie her to his very essence. Wanted her so strongly he’d be prepared to die or kill for it.
Their kiss deepened as Dalgo lost track of time and space, lost in the woman’s body, lost in her embrace. Her hands clung to him now, running behind his neck and up to his hair.
Excited shouts and giddy laughter came from the crowd around them but Dalgo didn’t care about it, or that the music had stopped.
“Captain Dalgo. Let the woman go.”
A man’s voice spoke right behind him and Dalgo reluctantly pulled away but his arms remained around the woman. He turned to see who had dared interrupt him, a growl on his lips and steel in his gaze.
Then he sobered as the High Lord of Katanie looked at him with an equally severe expression.
“My Lord Aldric.” Dalgo straightened, loosening his hold on the woman but not letting her go.
Dalgo cast a wide look around. Some guests were still grinning and watching with wide-eyed excitement, but some seemed shocked. All Draekons present seemed stunned and wore serious, closed off expression on their faces.
Because they knew what had just happened.
“I apologize, my Lord.” Dalgo reluctantly let go of the woman and stood stiffly in front of the High Lord. He summoned all his training to regain his composure then, finally, he was able to think. Really think.
“Never mind apologizing to me.” Lord Aldric’s cold silver gaze went to Dalgo’s side, then he frowned.
Dalgo turned and stared at the wall of people all around him.
The woman was gone, and something dark and fierce roared inside him.
Chapter 3
That kiss haunted her. She had never been kissed like that, not even in her dreams.
The way the Draekon had held her, had touched her. He’d wiped the entire world clean as she’d been powerless in his arms. Nothing had mattered anymore. Not Darrick and his deadly mission, not the crowd of onlookers. Not even her own safety as a thief on the brink of getting away with the crime of the century in the very house of the most powerful man in the kingdom.
Only him. He had been what mattered. That man and those sensations that had flooded her body as his hands ran over her, his mouth took possession of her soul. For one tiny moment in time, she hadn’t been a criminal, or Darrick’s little tool. She’d just been a woman in the arms of a man.
And she would forever cherish the memory. That kiss would see her through the dark, lonely night that was her entire life.
But she couldn’t go back. That Draekon was Captain Dalgo himself, the Captain of the Guard of Whispering Castle and the only other Draekon in the kingdom of Katanie.
He was the predator to her prey and she wouldn’t expect any mercy from him.
Nor was she expecting any mercy from Darrick. Between a rock and a bigger fucking rock, she chose to follow the path she already knew. Janelle clutched the small pouch containing the piece of jewelry as she made her way through the servants’ tunnels and finally out into the courtyard. Her long woolen cloak filled with icy wind as she stepped over the snow-covered ground. The door to the castle closed behind her and the audible click of the lock told her all she needed to know.
I can’t walk all the way down the mountainside in this weather. Not with these shoes. I hope Darrick won’t be an asshole and will come pick me up.
Well, any more of an asshole than he usually was. Janelle scoffed at the thought and her breath condensed in tiny puffs in front of her face. He expected her to make her own way down, she knew that. And he expected her not to make him wait.
After gathering her strength for another moment, she turned and looked back at the castle. This was it. She was never going to see the Draekon again.
With a heavy heart, Janelle turned her back on Whispering Castle and walked quickly over the slippery ground in her fancy heels, holding the edges of her cloak tight around her shoulders.
The cold slipped inside her clothing and around her heart as she pushed on under the watchful eye of the full moon, heading into the night. Time passed in a cold agony as she made her way down the mountain on the snow-covered road. No vehicles passed her going up or down the steep hill; only the wind and the freezing cold that had slithered inside her bones.
She’d stopped feeling her feet a long time ago, about the same time as Whispering Castle disappeared behind a bend in the mountain and its dark, looming form was shielded from her view by the heavy branches.
She was alone. Truly alone. No one would come find her here.
Not even Darrick. She was a fool to think he would risk picking her up on the road to Whispering Castle. He would wait and search in the morning. Only it would be too late for her.
If she didn’t reach the bottom of the mountain, she would die. Darrick’s network would be weakened with his best thief dead, but he wouldn’t mourn her, not truly. There was no love in Darrick’s heart, no true attachment. There was only profit – and those who weren’t profitable. Those who could be disposed of.
Janelle never doubted where she stood. Where everyone who wasn’t Darrick stood.
She pushed on, her hands long numb, her fingers curled around the edges of her cloak high around her neck. She didn’t dare look at them, nor did she dare look at her feet. She knew she had frostbite, but she didn’t want to see how bad it was.
This was a stupid idea. I should have refused.
But, how could she? She couldn’t have. She had nothing else. Darrick and the orphans were her home, her family. The only one she had.
The wind blew over the mountainside, rising to a loud fury. Snowflakes swirled sideways and from the bottom up in a dancing pattern that made Janelle pause. This was all wrong. Maybe her hypothermia was more advanced than she thought and she was beginning to hallucinate.
Darrick, I wish you would come.
Janelle cast a wide glance around her. There was nothing but trees and snow, rocks and death waiting for her on the mountain. But still the wind wouldn’t let up. It was stronger now, and a sudden, broad shadow made her crane her neck and look up.
Suddenly, she wasn’t so cold anymore.
She ran.
Her heart beat painfully within her ribs and her fingers let go of the cloak at her n
eck. The protective woolen layer went flying far behind her but Janelle didn’t care. All she cared about was the black dread coming at her from the sky.
A dragon. A large, deadly black dragon was charging at her, all sharp fangs and talons, ready to rip her to pieces.
A flash of the Draekon man’s face came to her mind as she slipped on a patch of ice, then regained her balance. Those silver eyes, all male lust and merciless. Captain Dalgo, head of security for the entire kingdom of Katanie. Could it be him? Did he somehow suspect her to be the thief of Lady Endora’s most prized possession?
She was a dead woman running. Her exhausted body couldn’t find sure footing in the snow and ice of the road, but she couldn’t give up. Terror made her push on, even as the cold snapped its icy fingers all through her silky silver gown, making her even clumsier than before.
Finally, as the road took a sharp turn around a canyon, her left foot slipped under her weight. Janelle screamed as pain exploded in her ankle, then screamed some more as the abyss hurtled toward her. She fell into the nothingness that preceded the rocks below – dizzyingly far, yet mercilessly there.
She was going to die.
Her arms went around her head in an instinctive gesture of protection as gravity pulled her down. Then time felt suspended as she stared at the impossible abyss below, her scream lost to the wind.
Black claws tipped with long talons wrapped around her body as wings larger than the tallest trees flapped through the air.
Falling to her death didn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore.
A long, gleaming black head came down and the two most vicious green, feline eyes she’d ever seen settled on Janelle, brimming with rage. The dragon hissed, the sound filling her with the primal horror of prey about to die.
The black dragon flew her back above the mountain road, then landed on the snow-covered rocks. Janelle’s back was pressed against the frozen ground, snow entering her low neckline and spreading between her legs as the hem of her dress got pulled up high.
12 Naughty Days of Christmas 2018 Page 44