Hunter's Desire (Dragons Of Sin City Book 2)

by Meg Ripley

  He returned a little more than an hour later, and she hurried to meet him at the door to the suite, but he wasn’t alone. Nevertheless, he wrapped her in his arms and his lips descended on hers in a painstakingly tender kiss. The moment it began to grow fiery, he pulled away with a rueful smile.

  “Claire, you’ve met Cade already. This is his partner, Hope and their little girl, Ruby. And this,” he said motioning to the young woman standing next to Hope, “this is Lexi. I think the two of you will have a lot to talk about.”

  She smiled politely and nodded to each woman in greeting, but her mind was too caught up in what she saw to do much else. Hope and Lexi weren’t the same, that she could tell for certain, but they weren’t human either. The aura surrounding Hope was light and airy, not quite the color of an opal, but pearlescent in the same way. She immediately liked the woman.

  And then there was Lexi. She was perhaps fifteen or sixteen, with honey blonde hair and blue eyes that were…well, they were identical to her own. She’d never seen her own aura, but knew without any proof of it that this young woman was a kindred spirit. She was the same. All these years she’d felt utterly alone, and standing right in front of her was a woman just like her.

  Lexi reached out her hand and clasped Claire’s in a grip that she quickly realized wasn’t meant only as an introductory handshake. But there was no confusion in her head; no need to recoil from an onslaught of emotion that didn’t belong to her. It was a conversation of thoughts, though it was somewhat slow and stiff on Lexi’s part as if she was only beginning to learn the unspoken language.

  “Lexi’s only recently begun to develop her gift, but the Venefica Eis can communicate with one another even from a much younger age,” she heard Cade explain, though her attention was mostly focused on what Lexi was telling her.

  Lexi had been born to a Venefica Eis but was given over to a human woman just days later after a hunter got too close. It was the only thing her real mother could do to protect her daughter. Years later, the human woman married a man who wasn’t what he said he was. He was human, yes, but he wasn’t just the lawyer he appeared to be. He was a hunter, too, and whether it was deliberate or happenstance, he wound up with his prey for a stepdaughter. The man wasn’t certain at first, but he treated Lexi with vicious contempt, nonetheless. When it became evident that Lexi never got sick and no matter the injury, she always healed quickly, he began to do more than suspect. He had come to her room one night, knife in hand and his intention plain on his face, and Lexi had fled. Finding Hope had been a godsend, and she’d been safe and happy ever since.

  Claire shared her own story with the girl, but the moment she’d finished, Lexi pulled away, looking up at Noah expectantly.

  “I figured this is what you were looking for tonight,” he said and held out the fragment of the Creag Bruadar that had been in Damon’s office.

  Her fingers shook. For so long, she’d searched for it, hoping it would undo the curse. But it wasn’t a curse; she saw that now. What if she touched it and it took back everything she was?

  “The Creag Bruadar holds the potential of every living being. When you touched it, it simply opened your eyes to what was already there, Claire. It can’t take that away,” Noah assured her gently.

  She nodded, staring at the luminous glow that surrounded the rock. He was right.

  With trembling fingers, she reached out and took the fragment from him. Right away, she could see it, just like she could a human being. It also spoke to her, just like Lexi had. But it had so much more to say.

  In that one moment, she knew every secret it contained—secrets that humans had been searching for throughout time. But like a living being, it gave her something else, too—a warning: these secrets were meant to be kept, and they were hers to guard, not to reveal.

  So, she placed the small, living fragment on the table near the door, giving it her word she would heed its warning. And then she wrapped her arms around Noah and gave herself over to the new life before her. She was good at keeping secrets, but there was one, she realized as he held her close and she felt the connection between them, that she didn’t have to keep.

  “I love you, Noah,” she whispered against his chest.

  “I love you, too, Claire. And I will for a very, very long time.”

  It struck her then just how true that was. A dragon and a Venefica Eis—they would be together for centuries.

  Or longer, if she believed everything the Creag Bruadar had told her.

  And she did.

  THE END

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  Mated By The Dragon Boss

  April Bancroft never thought she would find love, and she certainly didn’t think it would be in the form of Mads Durkheim—her boss and one of the world’s biggest media moguls. It’s totally unlike her, but she can’t resist his charm, his looks, or the heat of his body when they touch. A part of her hopes that a business trip to Los Angeles might turn their relationship into something more than strictly professional—but high in the Hollywood Hills, she’s introduced to a world that she could never even dream of.

  Mads Durkheim has been alive and alone for a very, very long time. One of the last of the dragons, he believes he will never find the woman meant for him—until voluptuous April walks into his office. He can’t put his finger on exactly why, but she soothes the fire raging inside of him. He wants nothing more than to keep her close and safe, but mortals are never safe when they meddle in the affairs of dragons.

  When April is caught in the crossfire of dirty business and ancient feuds, will their bond be enough to save her?

  “Ms. Bancroft, why are you always so cold?”

  April looked up from the ever-changing constellation of dates and appointments and blinked at her boss, Mads Durkheim. “What? I’m not cold.”

  “How many layers are you wearing?”

  “Three.”

  “Does that include the blanket?”

  She looked down at the afghan her grandmother had knitted for her over twenty years ago. It was the perfect size for her lap and she took it everywhere with her. It might be strange for a grown woman to have a security blanket, but she was, in fact, always cold.

  “No. I sit under that vent, and it’s always on.”

  He held his hand up to the vent. “It feels fine to me. Here, feel how warm I am.” He turned, swinging his bare arm in front of her face so she could touch him, as instructed. She registered the heat—against her cold fingers he felt like a living fire—but that wasn’t all she noticed. His smooth skin covered thick muscle, and the tendons twitched under her brief touch. She pulled her hand away quickly.

  “You’re very…” She swallowed the rasp out of her voice. “Warm.”

  “And your fingers are like ice! You really are cold, aren’t you? Here, let me show you something.”

  He leaned over her to reach for the computer mouse, minimizing her screen and double clicking on another icon. Misty, the woman who had trained her to be Mads’ personal assistant, had warned that that program accessed the climate control for the entire building. “Never touch that,”
she’d said. “He’s very particular.”

  “Look, just drag this here. Then you can adjust the temperature.” He demonstrated by raising it from 67 degrees to a more toasty and tolerable 78. “Better?”

  Better? How could she even begin to notice when the scent of his skin was filling her head? Her boss was a very attractive man—a fact she had done her best to ignore in the eight weeks since he hired her as his personal assistant—and he smelled very, very good. He wasn’t quite touching her back, but she could still feel the heat coming from his body, and if she leaned back just a little—less than an inch—she would feel the solid muscle of his chest.

  “Well?”

  She glanced upward to meet his golden-green eyes and had to look away just as quickly. “Much better, thank you. But won’t it be too hot for you?”

  “No, my office is set to my personal preference.” He straightened and the heat disappeared—much to her disappointment. “Reschedule all my meetings for the next three days.”

  “Reschedule…?”

  “Yes, I’m going to Los Angeles.”

  April frowned and checked the calendar. “On business?”

  “Yes, and you’ll be accompanying me. We’ll be flying out tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll be forwarding the itinerary. Make sure to pack a cocktail dress. We’ll be going to at least one event.”

  A cocktail dress? She didn’t even own a dress, much less one for an event in Los Angeles. Her mind raced for an excuse—any excuse—to get her out of the affair, if not the whole trip, but she came up with nothing. There was nothing holding her in town, and she couldn’t explain to him that girls her size didn’t have cocktail dresses lying around. At least he paid her well enough to go buy one.

  “And April?”

  “Yes?”

  “One more thing.” He leaned in close—so close that she could see the strands of golden-blond hair in his beard and eyebrows—and flared his nostrils. “What is that scent?”

  “Scent?”

  “What are you wearing? I was thinking of buying a new scent for my.... mother.”

  “It’s just my body wash. Or maybe the orange I had for breakfast?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, it’s an intoxicating combination.” He straightened again, and she hoped he didn’t notice the sudden flush on her cheeks or the way her pulse quickened. Her body betrayed her every time he stood within touching distance. Apparently, she needed more than eight weeks to get that under control. “I’m going to the club, I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  “Would you like me to forward your messages?”

  “Only if it’s urgent.”

  She didn’t release her breath until the door closed behind him. Turning her attention back to the calendar, she tried to forget the texture of his skin, the smell of sandalwood and pine that always surrounded him, the color of his eyes—green with the brightest flecks of gold. She tried to forget everything except the task at hand—the impossible task at hand. Mads was a very busy man, and his schedule was a careful balancing act without surprise meetings taking them out of town.

  The thought of going out of town made her stomach flutter. He’d warned her at the beginning of her interview that the job would require frequent travel. She’d quickly assured him that travel would not be a problem—she didn’t even have a plant in her small apartment. But this was the first trip since he hired her. How long would they be gone? What should she pack? Where were they going? Would they be alone together?

  “That doesn’t matter,” she muttered, squaring her shoulders. She had a job to do. Three days of meetings were not going to reschedule themselves.

  ****

  It wasn’t just the smell of her body wash or her breakfast fruit that clung to Mads and drove him a little bit crazy, no matter how much distance he put between himself and his pretty assistant. The first time their hands touched, a chill went down his spine and he actually quivered. In that moment, he knew two things for sure—one: he would absolutely hire her, and two: he absolutely had no business hiring her.

  She wasn’t even the most qualified applicant. A recent graduate from a tiny state school out in the middle of nowhere with no previous office or administrative experience, she showed up with a bright smile and a recommendation from his previous assistant, Marie. He had to look up the school to verify it was an accredited university and not just something she made up for her resume. But her references had been effusive, her grades perfect, and she looked him in the eye with a boldness that he hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Maybe even in centuries.

  Inviting her touch was not the best idea. Her soft fingers cooled the fire constantly burning beneath his skin, bringing him a moment of peace that the ubiquitous air conditioning never produced. She soothed him and then it was over, and he was left with nothing but a deep longing. Where else could she touch him? What other relief could she bring him?

  He shook his head. No, no, no. He wasn’t going to think about that, wasn’t going to allow those images—as delightful as they were—to fill his head. He had too many other things on his plate to be distracted by personal pleasure. Like Charles and Savannah Maelstrom, owners of the most powerful media conglomerate in the nation and the assholes trying to negotiate a hostile takeover of his own media interests. He only owned a handful of cable channels and three newspapers, but he wanted to keep them.

  The trip to California would be tedious at best. They’d throw him a party and try to find a way to buy him, though their billions meant nothing to him and they owned nothing he coveted. Strictly speaking, April did not need to accompany him, but just being near her brought him a sense of peace. And he would need all the help he could get if he had to spend a long weekend with Savannah Maelstrom. The fact that the world hadn’t yet figured out her secret was a miracle to him.

  It took him nearly thirty minutes to reach the club, and he resented every single second he spent confined in the car; if only he could stretch his wings, he would have been there in less than five. He would have soared over the skyscrapers and all of these little ants, scurrying around in their little ant lives, ignorant of their own insignificance. How terrified they would be to catch a glimpse of his immense power.

  What would April do if she could see him? If he shed his human suit and allowed her a glimpse of his true self, would she run from him? Or would she take a step closer? Would she place her fingers on his brow? Would she place a kiss on his inhuman lips? Would she fear him or would she understand that she would never have anything to fear from him?

  And how long would he be able to pretend that he didn’t long to show her?

  ****

  April had imagined the cocktail party as a smallish event full of boring business talk. Why else would he want her to accompany him, if not to take notes and keep track of who said what? But once they arrived, she realized there was nothing small about the party, and there would be no business discussed that evening. For the briefest of moments, April considered that maybe he simply meant her to be his date, but that hope was dashed when the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen attached herself to Mads’ arm.

  “Darling, it’s so good to see you again.” Her long red hair glowed under the chandeliers and her skin had the beautiful golden hue of the California sun.

  “Savannah, dear, it’s been too long.”

  “You haven’t called on me in, well, eons!”

  “I know, dear, and I have been remiss. But business—”

  She playfully hit his chest. “Oh, poo on your business. I don’t want to hear another word of it. That’s all Charles can talk about these days, and I’ll tell you, it’s perfectly boring.”

  Mads chuckled good-naturedly and gestured at April. “This is April Bancroft, my personal assistant. April, this is Savannah Maelstrom.”

  “Maelstrom? As in Maelstrom Media Group?”

  Savannah laughed. “Of course, darling.”

  “She is the queen of the em
pire. And a delectable one at that.” He bent low and kissed her hand, prompting a giggle from her.

  “Oh, you old flirt.” Her eyes flickered over April and dismissed her just as quickly. “Have you met Angelica Preston, darling? She’s come in all the way from Europe.”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure. Angelica?”

  “Yes, you know, Miles Preston’s daughter? Come, she was dancing just a moment ago.”

  And just like that, he was gone. April tried to track him through the crowd, but quickly lost sight of him and was unable to find him again, even when she checked the dance floor. She did spot the open bar and made a beeline to the only friendly face in the crowd—the smiling bartender. She ordered a champagne and turned to survey the party, feeling more comfortable with a glass in her hand.

  When they arrived in the town car Mads had hired, she assumed they were at a hotel. A very large, opulent hotel. An impression that didn’t change once inside—the sweeping stairs, the enormous chandeliers, the fine marble, the gold leaf accents, and the plush, leather furniture were all things she’d only seen in hotels. Well, pictures of hotels. She’d never been so out of place, and she was certain everybody there knew she didn’t belong.

  April looked down at her dress, inwardly cringing at the sight of her breasts and the swell of her belly encased in shiny, emerald green. It was not her favorite color, but what could she do? There was not an abundance of pretty dresses in her size 28. This one fit her well and covered enough of her breasts that she didn’t feel like she looked cheap. In fact, for a brief moment at the hotel, she actually felt surge of pride at the sight of her reflection. She’d had her hair, makeup, and nails done at the hotel’s spa—on Mads’ insistence and his dime—and the dress did look good on her. Mads’ smile when he saw her only reinforced her sense of pride. He had looked genuinely taken aback by her, and he’d offered her his arm, and it had all felt very real.