Dragon's Lair

by Denise Lynn

  “Are you awake?”

  She glared at the door a minute before answering, “No.” She didn’t want to deal with him right now. She was tired of being angry, frightened and confused. And he’d only intensify those emotions.

  “There are clean towels in the bathroom and a robe hanging on the door.”

  Warmth flowed into her limbs at the gravelly sound of his voice. Alexia frowned. More than anything else, she was extremely tired of that.

  How was it possible that a grown woman had no control whatsoever over her physical responses to a man she disliked so intensely? She wasn’t at all certain she could even trust him not to harm her. Why couldn’t her head explain that to her body?

  Until the past couple of days, she’d done just fine without him—most of the time. After a while she’d even been able to put thoughts of him from her mind—more or less. But the second she saw him again, her body went into some lust-crazed overdrive mode she couldn’t seem to control.

  Whatever happened to keeping this impersonal?

  With an exasperated sigh, Alexia rose and headed to the shower. There was no need to put herself through this turmoil any longer than necessary. She would just translate the manual, then get away from the Lair and Braeden as soon as she could.

  Tripping on what felt like clothes, she reached over and flipped on the overhead light. Her clothes were strewn on the floor.

  Braeden hadn’t undressed her. Unless something had changed, and she doubted it, he never would have tossed clothes on the floor. Not even if they were dirty. He would have folded them up and stacked them neatly on the dresser.

  In a strange way, it was nice to know that some things never changed. She scooted them into a pile and went into the bathroom.

  To her surprise a small basket on the double sink held all her usual toiletries. Braeden had obviously gone shopping while she slept. Or he’d sent someone.

  Either way, she now had her brands of shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, toothpaste and even lavender soap. She rooted through the basket and found a wide-toothed comb, a purple, soft-bristled kid’s toothbrush, body lotion, powder and a pack of various sized barrettes for her hair.

  This wasn’t fair. He couldn’t go and get all domesticated on her now. She didn’t want to owe him anything more than what was absolutely necessary.

  She rushed through her shower, then slipped into the robe before going back out to the bedroom—and coming to a rocking stop. Light streamed in from the doorway and a shadow stretched across the floor.

  The rustle of bags preceded Braeden into the room. Without looking at her, he dropped the bags on the bed, the contents spilling out onto the covers. “Get dressed. Dinner is waiting.”

  When he turned and paused to stare at her, Alexia recognized the anger etching frown lines across his forehead. Yet, while he was no less mad at her, something else simmered beneath the rage. An emotion she recognized, because it flared to life within her, too.

  She swallowed past the dryness in her mouth as heat flooded her body to settle between her thighs. Her cheeks burned, and from the hungry look darkening his eyes he knew they shared the same response.

  Before this unwelcome desire could convince her to do something she would only come to regret, Alexia searched for something to say. “I…thank you for the…shower things…I…” She ran her tongue over lips trying to ease the growing tingle as they anticipated his kiss.

  He didn’t say a word. His steady stare didn’t waver. It felt as if he pierced the thick fabric of the robe with his gaze.

  The cool air shifted against her belly, bringing with it the realization there was no fabric to pierce. The robe had fallen open.

  She should pull the robe closed. Order him to leave. But she couldn’t make her hands and voice obey. Instead, she stood there, her heart pounding, her breath ragged, frozen in place by the heat of his gaze.

  He walked slowly toward her. Steadily, purposefully, like a beast intent on obtaining its prey.

  The fire on her cheeks burned hotter. The maddening pulse low in her belly beat harder, faster.

  Braeden curled his fingers through her still-damp hair and tugged her head back.

  Alexia closed her eyes and parted her lips, intent on telling him to leave. But as he caressed her breast, his strong fingers expertly stroking and teasing the already tightening tip, the only sound that escaped her throat was a soft moan.

  His lips covered hers, accepting the wordless invitation.

  Breathless and on fire, she grasped his shoulders, not caring what tomorrow would bring. This moment was the only thing that mattered.

  The buzz of a cell phone cut through the thickness of lust. Braeden tore his mouth from hers on a groan. Without releasing his hold on the back of her head, he whipped the phone from his chest pocket and flipped it open. “What?”

  Alexia’s pulse slowed at the sharpness of his voice. What the hell was she doing? Had she lost all ability to think rationally?

  This was not the way to keep herself safe. Giving in to uncontrollable lust would gain her nothing more than heartbreak.

  Braeden’s frown returned as he nearly snarled into the phone, “It’ll keep until later.” He snapped the cellular closed and slid it back into his pocket.

  Her knees shook when he looked back down at her. It would be, oh, so easy to ignore the warnings of her mind and let her passion retake control.

  Braeden stared at her for just a moment before relaxing his hold on her head and stepping away. On his way toward the door, he pointed at the bags. Without pausing, he said, “Get dressed and come eat.”

  Her knees shook so badly and her legs felt so rubbery it was all she could do not to slip to the floor. But she was afraid that if she didn’t get dressed and go out to the other room to eat, he’d come back in to see what held her up.

  That was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t have to think twice about it, for she knew that her response would be the same and that he’d not make the mistake of letting anything interrupt them.

  Alexia hesitantly tipped the bags upside down and watched the garments tumble onto the bed.

  It appeared he’d purchased everything she would need for at least a week, if not longer.

  Everything was there—jeans, blouses, sweaters, socks, a pair of hiking boots, bras, panties, pajamas, two pairs of sweats, a heavier jacket than what she had with her, a robe and slippers.

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Everything he bought was something she would have picked up for herself.

  How dare he have such a good memory! She rolled her eyes. The man filed away every little thing. If he couldn’t instantly remember something, all he had to do was search his own mind and whatever he wanted would be there.

  After slipping into some underclothes and socks, she pulled on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shirt before putting the other items back in the bags.

  Alexia turned to pick up her dirty clothes from the floor and saw that they were now folded and stacked on the dresser. He just couldn’t help himself. The man was a neat freak, methodical and predictable. Too bad she couldn’t predict anything else about him.

  She paused at the bedroom door and took slow, deep breaths, trying to find a way to calm the uneasiness washing over her.

  Not a few hours ago she’d wondered if this risk was worth the pain it could cause. She still didn’t have the answer.

  Although now she knew exactly how much pain and heartache this trip would gain her. She desperately needed to find a way to shield her heart from what Braeden did to her.

  She wished they could be like two normal acquaintances—polite, yet distant from each other. But that would never happen. There was far too much between them to maintain any measure of distance. And too many unsolved issues for them to be polite to each other.

  Why hadn’t she realized that before pulling through the gates?

  Simple. Because she hadn’t considered how much she had missed his kiss, his touch and the very sound of his v
oice. She hadn’t considered everything they’d once shared—the passion, the love or even the pain.

  If nothing else, she needed to be honest with herself. This man, her husband, could crush her heart more easily than anyone alive, simply because a part of her still cared far too much.

  He said she couldn’t leave and Alexia believed that he would stop her. So that stripped away the option of getting into her car and driving off. Even if she did, where would she go?

  As far as she could tell, she was left with only two options. Either let things continue the way they were and remain silent, as the passion, the caring and the longing tore her apart.

  Or face the past head on. Yes, Braeden would then know how much she still cared, leaving her wide open for the heartbreak she dreaded. And yes, she would be forcing herself to relive the pain of the accident, losing the baby and her husband all over again.

  And in the end she still might find herself facing the loss one more time.

  But if it was all out in the open, wouldn’t she be better able to make her peace with the past and move on?

  Alexia shook her head. All her wonderings and all her silent questions only left her with more unanswerable questions.

  She jerked open the door and wandered toward the living room. She stopped in the center of the room and stared at the view before her.

  The panoramic vista of fog-shrouded mountains wiped away her confusion, anger, fear and still-lingering desire. Untamed wilderness tumbled into the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Had Braeden not moved forward to slide open the door and step out onto a balcony, she wouldn’t have realized anything existed beyond the sheer wall of glass.

  To her it appeared the view was unobstructed. What would most likely be a spectacular panorama on a clear day was now veiled by mist as the sun began to set. The murky view added new depth to her sense of foreboding.

  The fog swirled around Braeden. While seated behind his desk, he’d been the picture of Lord of the Castle. He swung his gaze to her and Alexia’s breath caught. Now he looked every inch the High Druid. As uncivilized and wild as the untamed nature surrounding them, Braeden could easily have stepped out of the Dark Ages.

  Beneath his tailored suit, expensive shoes and the businessman’s polish beat not only the heart of a dragon, but the soul of a warrior—a warrior trained in wizardry.

  If the academic world knew half what she did, the history books would need to be rewritten. There was so much she could have included in her paper, but she’d held back purposely. Knowing what chaos could be created by the truth, she’d intentionally danced around small lies and half-truths.

  And she’d done so without guilt—at least, none where the university was concerned. They’d coerced her into writing the paper to begin with by dangling her degree just out of reach. They’d been desperate. So desperate she’d chosen lying and concealment, instead.

  In her what-if scenario on the Dragonierre’s Manual, she’d not mentioned that the book did indeed exist, nor had she even hinted that the Druids of Gaul had not fallen into extinction.

  Had she claimed either to be true, Alexia knew that her life and the life of the man now staring at her so intently might have been over. A risk she’d been unwilling to take.

  She’d thought she’d held back enough. She’d worked so hard to edit out any line, any word, that might have hinted at the truth.

  But her painstaking work hadn’t been enough. Now, she and the Drakes were all in danger—from an enemy she knew nothing about. Abruptly she asked, “Who is the Learned?”

  He didn’t turn around, but said from over his shoulder, “You’re working with them. You tell me.”

  She flinched. “They may have left me the pages, but I am not working with them. You know that.”

  “Do I?”

  “You saw what happened.” She ignored the flush warming her cheeks as she remembered the episode in the elevator. “How could you think I’d work with someone who threatened me?”

  Braeden leaned on the railing, his mood as murky as the fog. “I saw what brought you here, nothing more.”

  “What else is there?”

  “The being who left the pages, the one who wanted the translation, the one you said got into your thoughts.”

  “I said? You think I made it up?”

  “It’s possible.” After a few moments of silence, Braeden beckoned her out into the mist. “The Learned are a long-lost part of the Mirabilus clan.”

  Drawn by the view and his apparent willingness to talk, she forced down the impending doom clutching at her and joined him on the balcony, making certain to stay out of his reach. “Why would someone in your family kill your parents? Why is Danielle so afraid of him?”

  “Them, not him. It’s more than one person. Although if Nathan still lives, he’d be more than enough to deal with.”

  A damp mountain breeze wafted cold against Alexia’s cheeks. But she’d gladly suffer the chill. It helped to clear her head. “How so?”

  Braeden leaned on the railing. “He was born in the twelfth century and rumored to be immortal. If that’s true, it might be a little hard to defeat him.”

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She’d come to accept many otherworldly abilities since meeting Braeden and his family. But it was hard to believe what he’d just told her. Looking back at him, she said, “Immortal? Braeden, please.”

  “I grew up hearing tales about Nathan and his brood.” He shrugged. “I’ve never met him or any member of his family. I assumed the tales were just that—tales, nothing more. But Danielle is certain he killed my parents.”

  “I take it he’s a wizard, too?”

  “So I’m told. He was supposed to have been named the High Druid at one point in time, but that position was granted to a Drake.”

  She shook her head. “So he’s waited this long to take his revenge?”

  “Unlikely.”

  The cry of a hawk soaring somewhere above them caught her attention and she craned her neck to follow the sound. Unable to see through the wall of mist, she closed her eyes and let the mountain’s breath wash over her. It seeped steadily into her veins, soothing her jagged nerves, calming her riotous heartbeat.

  Alexia sighed. The fear that had been building since yesterday began to fade away in the fog.

  The hawk screeched loudly, breaking the silence as if in warning. The hair on her arms stood on end. She frowned, then opened her eyes. What danger had the raptor sensed? She glanced at Braeden. He still stared off into the fog as if his attention was directed as hers had been—on the fog and mountain air.

  She could see nothing on either side of the balcony that would cause alarm. But the fog was so thick she couldn’t see more than six feet in front of her.

  It felt as if someone watched her. Even through the mantle of mist and smoke, the being studied her with a focus so intense it set her stomach churning.

  Alexia stilled her mind but could find no hint of intrusion. Still, the sense of being watched was as tangible as the balcony beneath her feet.

  She went back inside. While the feeling lessened, it didn’t go completely away.

  “What’s wrong?” Braeden followed her back into the suite, closing the door behind him.

  She brushed her hands up and down the thin sleeves of her shirt. “Nothing, I was just getting cold.”

  He sat down in one of the chairs flanking the stone fireplace and pulled the coffee table between the chairs. “Sit down and eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You haven’t eaten since yesterday. Sit down and eat.”

  Had he always been this demanding? She sat down in the other chair. Arguing with him over food wasn’t going to get rid of the anger still evident in his eyes.

  She met his gaze, and noticing the laugh lines around his mouth, she wondered when he’d last laughed about anything.

  Braeden handed her a glass of wine, removed the domed covers from the plates of salad, then unw
rapped a basket of rolls.

  She drank half the wine, then set it down to pick up a fork and stab at her salad before taking a bite.

  One swallow later her stomach growled, letting her know how hungry she was. Braeden shook his head, but thankfully didn’t say a word.

  While they ate their meal in silence, Alexia wondered why she felt the need to goad him the way she did. If being overly contrary with him was some strange way of protecting herself, it was senseless. Feeding his anger would get her nowhere.

  She hadn’t always been like that. So when had she started? She paused, midbite, frowning. After the accident. Before Braeden noticed her hesitation, she brought the fork to her lips.

  Why? She swallowed her bite of salad and nearly choked as the answer tightened her throat.

  He handed her the half-empty glass of wine. Their fingers barely touched, yet the unexpected jolt of electricity made her gasp, lodging more salad in her throat.

  She downed the remaining wine and gestured for more. Braeden handed her a glass of water as he refilled her wineglass.

  Alexia gulped the water, clearing her throat in the process. She drew in a deep breath of air.

  The only reason she’d started goading him was to intentionally get him angry so they wouldn’t talk. If they didn’t talk, she didn’t have to admit her fears or her agony. She didn’t have to tell him of the guilt she bore or of the blame she placed on him. She didn’t have to verbalize her despair or the grief that trailed her even today.

  Her stomach knotted and she set the water down before retrieving the glass of wine. Staring at him, she tried swallowing her guilt along with the wine. It didn’t work, so she held out the now empty glass.

  But instead of filling it again, Braeden plucked the goblet from her fingers, set it on the table, then pushed the table aside.

  “What’s going on?”

  She had known this was coming. Just like the clothes on the floor, it was another quirk. He wasn’t going to stop until he had an explanation for everything he’d seen in her mind. It was all she could do not to huff in resignation as she leaned back in the chair. “You already know why I’m here.”