He chuckled against my neck, kissing me there. “I don’t think anyone’s called me beautiful before.”
“You are.” I ran my hands down those impeccable abs and to the waistband of his pants.
He moaned so low, it sounded like a growl. I’d already unfastened his pants, so now I shoved them down. He was so big, so powerful, those legs like steady tree trunks. I wanted to kneel and take his cock in my mouth again like I had on the rooftop, but I wanted him inside me even more.
He lightly pinched one of my nipples between his thumb and finger. I writhed, needing more from him, needing everything. I wrapped one of my legs around his hip to yank him closer.
“Slade,” I whimpered. “I need you.”
With a groan, he positioned himself at my entrance and pressed forward. His thickness filled me, touching every nerve ending, and I gasped at the sensation.
“You okay, Ari?” he asked, his voice holding both wonder and concern. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“This is perfect,” I said. It hurt, but it felt good, and as I squeezed him with my inner walls, it started feeling even better.
He thrust inside me slowly, and my back pressed once more to the tree. Rough bark pricked my skin. Slade, slick and hard in front of me, the tree behind me. My center filled with movement and pleasure. I rode each one of his thrusts, crying out for more, harder, faster. He was helping me feel better, showing me love and wonder. This act was saving me, saving us—until I came, holding onto nothing but Slade, with his name in my throat and mouth and his metallic scent surrounding me.
A moment later, he went rigid in my arms, and I felt him pulsing inside of me, getting his own release. He kissed my cheeks and lips and nose, his whiskers tickling my skin.
Once the aftershocks faded, he helped me stand and dress. He held my hand and walked me back to camp. Taylor and Quentin each stood up and kissed me lightly on the lips, their eyes soft.
“I’ll take first watch,” Taylor said, kissing me one more time.
The love in his eyes, and in Quentin’s and Slade’s, warmed me better than any campfire.
Chapter Seventeen
Slade
I fell into my sleeping bag shortly after Ariana and I said goodnight. My heart felt full. Happy.
As soon as my eyes closed, though, everything changed.
The forest was gone. So was the night.
I was on a grassy hill, bright and warm from the summer sun. Trees surrounded the hill, regular-sized trees. I knew this place, even though a voice in the back of my head told me I shouldn’t.
Whitesong Point, our special place. There was no sign of civilization, only miles of mountains—the kind of landscape that ended up on a painting in a fancy museum.
The air was fresh, like mountains and wildflowers. But I didn’t care about the air, or the mountains. All that mattered sat beside me on the blanket. All I cared about was Ari.
Her red sundress whipped in the wind. Her wavy brown hair did, too.
Her skin was tan, and her eyes sparkled.
She looked at me like I was the only man in the world, with unconditional love. I would do anything to see her look at me like that forever.
The ring in my pocket was small as a coin, but it felt as heavy as a mountain. I’d never thought I would propose marriage. It wasn’t the shifter way. But I knew how much it would mean to her, to share our bond with her human father. If she said yes.
She rose to her feet and slipped the straps of her dress from her shoulders.
The thin fabric fluttered in the breeze and pooled on the blanket. Her pert breasts and beautiful hourglass figure were exposed to me. I loved the flare of her hips, the long length of her legs, the softness of her skin. I loved her shy smile, her boundless selflessness, her raspy voice. There wasn’t a single thing about the woman before me I didn’t adore.
She slid down her panties and took a step back, off the blanket, instead of toward me.
“Fly with me,” she said, before she dove headfirst over the edge of the cliff.
I couldn’t tear my clothes off fast enough. The ring could wait.
Upward she flew, a beautiful creature of strong wings and amethyst scales.
I smiled wide, my heart full. I would never get enough of Ariana. She was my life, and I loved her more than anything.
That was weird. And nice.
I woke like I always did, thinking about Ariana. Connecting with her physically had calmed me. I still felt the effects even though it was the next day. We would find my dad. We would do it together.
I climbed out of the small door on my pop-up tent and stretched. The autumn air was cold and damp, but the sun was on its way up.
“Good, someone has finally woken,” Quentin said. It’d been his turn for watch. I guessed he’d gotten antsy.
“Yeah.” I grabbed a fresh shirt from my pack and laced up my boots. “Everything okay?”
“Better than okay.” Quentin held out the satphone for me to see. The power light was on.
“Nice,” I said.
“It still won’t make an outgoing call,” he said. “But perhaps it would be possible in a nearby clearing, or at greater altitude.”
An image of Ariana filled my head. She was naked and happy.
“Good luck,” I said.
“Thank you.” Quentin scurried off into the woods, and I dug through my bag to see what we had left to work with. There were Clif bars and trail mix, jerky, oatmeal, and water. I eyed the bush by my tent. It smelled sweet and was covered in blackberries. I thought back to the research I’d done before we’d left home. There were two types of berries that looked like this. One of the bushes had pointed leaves, the other’s leaves were more rounded. One of the berries was sweet. One was tart. The tart ones caused diarrhea—if I remembered right. I took another minute and pictured the field guide I’d looked at back at home. Yep. I was sure.
I checked the leaves. They were pointy. I pulled off a berry and took a good whiff. It smelled sweet. I popped it in my mouth. Sweet.
I gave it a little time to be sure, then I collected some berries to share. A few for each packet of instant oatmeal and a little hot water, and it was almost like a real breakfast. Nothing like Quentin would fix, fancy eggs or whatever, but for out in the middle of nowhere, I figured it was pretty good.
Before long, Ari and Taylor emerged from their tents.
“Good morning,” I said, and handed Taylor his breakfast.
He took it in one hand and wiped the sleep from his eyes with the other.
“Thanks,” he said. “And good morning.”
Ariana beamed at me. She really was gorgeous under any condition. I liked her hair tousled as much as I liked it brushed. And I liked her fresh-faced as much as in makeup. Any way I could have her, she was perfect.
She kissed my cheek and put her hand on my arm when I handed her the oatmeal.
“How are you this morning?” she asked.
“Better after last night,” I said. “You?”
“Me too,” she said.
She smiled and I stole it, with a soft kiss right on her lips. I wanted to relive last night again. I was ready, always ready with her.
Taylor slapped my shoulder. “This is pretty good,” he said. “Are these blackberries?”
“Yeah,” I said. “There are two types that grow around here. One of them will give you the squirts.”
His eyes went wide. It was priceless.
“Don’t worry. It’s not those ones,” I said.
“You should have saved that line for Quentin,” he said. “Imagine his reaction.”
“Where is Quentin?” Ariana asked, scanning the camp.
“Looking for phone service,” I said. “He was all excited about it when I got up.”
“He found some or he’s looking for some?” Taylor asked.
“It’s better up here,” I said. “He’s heading up the mountainside to find enough to make a call.”
“That’s great,” Ariana said
.
And it was. I knew it was important to reach Koenig. But something wasn’t right. There was a sick feeling in my stomach. And it wasn’t the berries.
Then my left shoulder hurt. It was a stabbing, tearing pain.
I looked up, and Taylor was staring at me. He was holding his shoulder, his left one. It was the same as me.
“Something’s wrong,” I said.
Ariana looked back and forth between us. Concern marred her brow.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Quentin,” I said.
“We’re coming,” Taylor said. “Go.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I knew he would keep her safe. I knew I was the fastest.
I tore through the forest as sounds of a struggle reached my ears. And I heard something else—my father’s voice.
Emotion boiled beneath the surface, but I kept it down. Quentin. I had to reach him.
There was a ledge, a long rock platform, a steep cliff.
Quentin was on the ground, his left arm twisted behind his back. Standing over him and holding him there with his foot was the man I’d been told was dead.
Tall as me, and built just as thick, was the man who had been plaguing my dreams. He had brown eyes and a strong jaw, and short, light-colored hair.
He looked like I remembered, but he was exactly like Koenig had said. He wasn’t gentle and kind. He wasn’t the father who’d race me down the stairs and give me ice cream for breakfast. He was a soldier. An enemy.
“Stop fighting.” He pulled upward on Quentin’s arm, and I gasped at the shooting pain it caused through my arm from my wrist all the way up.
My dad turned. His fierce eyes met mine, and some of the anger in them melted. “Slade?”
“Let him go.” I took a step forward.
“It isn’t what you think,” my dad said. “I wasn’t going to...”
His mouth tightened into a line. Taylor and Ariana caught up, stood at each side of me.
Then my dad ripped the phone from Quentin’s hand.
“The phone!” Quentin shouted.
I started forward, but my dad dove off the edge of the rock. I ran. I tore my shirt from my chest. Unclasped my belt.
I expected him to take flight, like Ariana had done in my dream. Like he’d done when I was a kid, and he’d taken me out for rides. I expected bronze wings to spread across the sky. A dragon that looked just like mine. But the dragon never came. There was only forest beneath us and open sky above.
He was gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Ariana
Two days had gone by, and I’d barely left Slade’s side. He’d been troubled ever since the confrontation with Victor. I knew it had to be weighing on him, but he didn’t seem to want to talk. Just the same, he didn’t seem to mind my closeness. If that was the best way I could support him, I would stick by him. Quentin and Taylor alternated taking the lead and following behind. If this new arrangement of me always with Slade bothered them, they didn’t show it. If nothing else, they seemed to understand and appreciate that Slade needed me right now.
Also, I needed Slade. We’d lost the satellite phone, our only chance of getting in touch with Koenig. In losing the phone, we may have lost our only chance to protect Victor. We had no way to assure Koenig that we had the situation under control. He wasn’t a trusting man. He wouldn’t wait forever. And so, standing next to Slade also helped me feel better.
I remembered, now, how it was between people in love. Proximity alone could help them feel better.
At the moment, Quentin and Taylor were ahead, circling around to see if they could find the remains of a campfire. I reached out and took Slade’s hand as we walked.
He gave me a tight smile. “It’s getting late,” he said. “We should find a spot to camp for the night.”
“All right,” I said.
His gloom troubled me. I wanted to cheer him up, make him feel better. But at the same time, I knew he had some heavy shit to work through.
Once we found a clearing and set out our pop-up tents, I sat on a blanket in front of the fire. Taylor was gathering wood, and Quentin was roasting some of the meat Slade had bought in Versorgungsstelle. Slade came over to the blanket and lowered himself to sit next to me.
“I’m sorry I’ve been grouchy,” he said.
I leaned against his shoulder. “No need to apologize,” I said. “I understand—this is complicated stuff to work through. What your dad said—I know it isn’t easy to think about. But I’m here if you want to talk.”
“It’s not only that,” he said quietly. “There’ve been weird dreams, too.”
“You want to talk about them?”
“Not yet.” He kissed the top of my head and inhaled slightly. “Even out here in the woods, you still smell like apple pie.”
I laughed. “I’ve barely bathed since the waterfall.”
“It suits you,” he murmured.
We kissed softly, and I could sense the approving looks of Quentin across the fire, and Taylor, who’d just returned with an armload of branches. I thought about the other night, about what had almost happened between the four of us. I thought about the waterfall, and when Maisie had walked in on us in my office. I wanted to follow through, wanted to explore this relationship that we all shared. But not now. Not with Victor Rouland out there in the woods.
I woke up in the dark, with no idea of the time. The night was quiet, and I could sense Taylor and Slade nearby in their tents. I unzipped my tent and peered outside. Quentin sat close by, keeping watch. The fire had long gone out.
He turned when he heard me stirring. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what woke me up.” I was wide awake now, though. “What time is it?”
“Twenty to midnight.”
“It’s almost time for my watch,” I said. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“Not a chance, not when I could be enjoying your company,” he said. “Come here.” He patted the ground next to him.
I put on my boots, grabbed an extra sweatshirt, and left my tent.
His blue eyes sparkled appreciatively in the moonlight as he watched me approach him.
“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“You’re not wearing a brassiere.”
“Brassiere?” I tried not to laugh—I didn’t want to wake Taylor or Slade. “No, I generally don’t sleep in a bra.”
“Lucky me.”
I shivered, it was colder than I expected. After putting on my extra sweatshirt, I eased down next to him. “How’ve you been?”
“Frustrated that I allowed our only method of communication to be stolen,” he said.
“It’s not your fault,” I replied.
His small smile didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t believe me. I understood. If I’d been overcome, I would surely feel responsible. But Victor had the advantage, and it could have happened to any of us.
“More than that, I’m quite eager to find Victor, put an end to this cat and mouse game, and return to Emerald Pines where we can more easily explore…” He trailed off and gestured to the four tents.
“Us?” I asked, surprise in my voice. It was the first time I’d seen Quentin at a loss for words.
“Yes, I suppose so,” he said. “It’s hard to figure it out while we’re roughing it.”
“Well, I do like being close,” I said. “Out here in the forest, there aren’t as many distractions.”
“This is true.”
“No Pelletier calling to beg us to work for him.”
“Ugh, yes, doubly true.”
“No Princess Needleclaw,” I said, “taking over your pillow.”
He grinned. “And yet, I rather miss the little demon.”
“Remember how she just sat on your pillow while we got it on in your room?”
“She’s never looked at me in the same way since.”
“She’s not here now,” I said, reaching out to rest my hand on his th
igh.
That got his attention. He tilted his head toward mine, rubbed his cheek against my cheek. I could see evidence of his growing arousal through his pants.
A branch snapped, and we pulled away. Instantly alert.
“It could just be an animal,” I whispered.
“Or it could be Victor,” Quentin breathed.
“Should we wake up the guys?”
Quentin squeezed my hand. “No, let’s be certain. We can shout and they’d be out here in seconds.”
Slowly, we stood up. My boots weren’t tied, so I stuffed the laces inside of them. Quentin passed me an extra taser.
We carefully walked in the direction we’d heard the branch.
“I don’t sense a dragon nearby,” I said, sniffing the air. “Oh wait, I smell Taylor.”
I turned to look behind me and spotted him a few feet away. He held a finger up to his lips. I grinned, happy we had some back-up.
Just then, Victor stepped out from the brush. He was covered in mud—likely to disguise his scent.
Quentin pointed the taser at him, but he wasn’t fast enough. Victor threw a stone. I shouted at Quentin to dodge, but Victor hadn’t been aiming to hit Quentin. He’d been trying for Taylor.
The rock hit Taylor on the forehead, and he fell.
I screamed. Quentin rushed forward, but Victor held up a gun.
Victor stared at me, his face, his build, and even his haircut eerily similar to Slade’s. “You were in the battle where Gabriel Christianson almost died.”
I clenched my fists, readying the taser. Right now, I wished it was something lethal. “No, I watched him die. And if you did any lasting damage to Taylor, I’ll make sure you meet the same end.”
“He’ll be fine,” Victor said. “He’s a dragon—he’ll just have a headache when he wakes.”
“I’ll bring you back alive for Slade, but if you hurt his friend, he just might kill you himself, whether or not you’re his father.”
“Christianson was down for weeks,” Victor said. “But he didn’t die. Seems like something you should know.”
I didn’t care about Christianson. I cared about my men. I sent a quick, fearful glance to Quentin. He was focused on Victor, ready to shoot the taser at the first sign that Victor might pull the trigger.
Dragon Unbroken_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy Romance Page 12