Daughter Of The Dragon Princess

by Nina Croft

  “When we’re away from here, I might just answer your questions. If you’re a good girl.”

  “Patronizing bastard.” She looked at him sharply. “What do you mean away from here? I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  He continued to smile, and at that moment, Cole returned, scowling.

  “This is a load of crap. I’ve received orders,” he said. “From about as high as you can go. You’re to take her.”

  “What? I’m not going anywhere with him.” But she knew, with a sinking heart, that what she wanted was going to make no difference.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Palmer—Lily, but it’s out of my hands.” Cole handed Mal a business card. “If you can’t get me on my cell, work your way down the list. And I want to be able to contact you. She’s going to have to come in to sign her statement. I’ve still got two dead cops and we will want to question her further.”

  Mal took a card from his back pocket and gave it to Cole. He turned to Lily and considered her, his head tilted to one side. “I want her in cuffs.”

  “Is that necessary?”

  “Cole,” Mal said gently, “this is the woman who hit me over the head with an extremely heavy object, so yes, I do think it’s necessary.”

  Cole frowned. “I thought you said that wasn’t you.”

  “I want the cuffs.”

  Lily glanced from one man to the other. She had believed she was safe. Now they were letting this maniac take her.

  “You can’t do this,” she said to Cole.

  “I’m sorry.” He glanced down as though he couldn’t face her and reached behind him for a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “Hold out your hands.”

  She hid them behind her back. “Please, don’t do this.”

  Cole took one of her arms and tugged it from behind her back. She didn’t resist—her mind numb—as he locked the cuff around her wrist, before repeating the action with the other.

  She couldn’t believe this was happening; they were giving her to him, handing her to him on a plate, defenseless, shackled like a common criminal. She bit her lip and allowed a tear to spill over. No way was he going to do this and not feel guilty.

  “Jesus,” Cole muttered wincing, but it didn’t stop him handing the small key to Mal. “She’s all yours. Take care of her.” He stalked out of the room without a backward glance, leaving her alone with him.

  “What now?” she asked not sure she was ready for an answer.

  “We get out of here.”

  “And go where?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Come on.”

  He picked up her bag from the table and headed for the door. When she didn’t follow, he glanced around. She remained rooted to the spot, and he stepped back and took her arm. She tried to flinch from the contact but his grip was firm.

  “I could carry you out of here.”

  She didn’t want any more contact than was necessary. Her skin already prickled from where he touched her. He glanced down, a frown forming on his face, and his hand tightened on her arm.

  “Please,” she said. “Let go of me, and I’ll come.”

  His grip loosened and his hand dropped away. Lily shivered and rubbed awkwardly at the place where he’d held her, but this time, when he headed for the door, she followed.

  Her footsteps dragged, and the walk through the station seemed to take forever. It appeared that everyone had come out to watch them, and a warm blush of humiliation stained her skin. She’d done nothing wrong, why should she feel like a criminal? Staring at the floor, she blinked to stop the tears she couldn’t seem to hold back.

  Lily followed him down into the basement-parking garage, where he stopped beside a sleek black car.

  “Wait,” he said. Lifting the trunk, he pulled out a shoulder holster and strapped it on over his shirt. He opened a case, and Lily gasped—it was full of weapons. Mal didn’t even glance up as he selected a pistol, slapped in a cartridge, and slid the gun into the holster.

  He walked around the car and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

  Lily slipped into the low seat.

  “Give me your hands,” he said.

  For a second, she thought he was going to unfasten the cuffs, free her. She was wrong. He unlocked the cuff from her left hand, slid the empty bracelet through a handle on the passenger door, and clicked the cuff shut.

  “What happens if we have an accident?” she asked.

  “We won’t.”

  He came around and slid into the driver’s seat. “Fasten your seat belt.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to have an accident.”

  He glanced at her, his face impassive. Leaning across, he pulled out her belt, and slotted the buckle into place. Lily tried to shrink away from his touch, but found it impossible in the confined space of the car, and his message was clear.

  He sat back in his seat, started the car and they drove out of the garage into daylight. Curling her body as far as possible from her captor, she rested her face against the cool glass of the window as the streets of London slid by. Finally, she closed her eyes and sleep took her.

  ***

  Mal gave her a quick sideways glance. For such a tall woman, she appeared tiny, curled up as far away from him as she could get. Her bright red hair fell across her face, but one tear-stained cheek showed.

  Her hand was held at an awkward angle by the cuff, and he frowned. He hadn’t needed to cuff her.

  The problem was, she awoke emotions within him, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. Things would go far easier if he could treat her as an enemy. But he was kidding himself—he was starting to realize nothing about this was going to be easy.

  Pulling over, he unlocked the bracelet fastened to the handle. Her arm dropped and she cradled it to her body, curling away from him even further.

  He entered the underground garage of an office block on Canary Wharf. The building had been constructed to his specifications. They would be safe, while he contacted the King.

  Mal frowned; he hated the idea of handing anyone over to Vortigen. Even Lily Palmer, who was obviously quite capable of standing up for herself. Then he grimaced. She would have no chance against the King—he would break her from pure spite. Lily’s mother had humiliated him and he held her responsible for their exile from Ankesh. Vortigen could no longer punish Cara, so he would make her daughter pay. He wouldn’t kill her. They needed her, but perhaps she would come to yearn for death.

  The King would also make sure she couldn’t take Cara’s way out. Any sign of defiance, and Vortigen would make her life a living hell. All Mal could do in the short time they had together, was try to convince her to accept her role.

  They all had to accept their roles in life. It was the way of the dragons.

  She didn’t wake as he gently scooped her up out of the car and carried her across the garage. She stirred in his arms as they rode up in the elevator and he soothed her, stroking her long red hair until she relaxed again. He found he actually liked her—when she was asleep. He didn’t allow himself to like many people. In his two thousand years exiled on Earth, he’d had few friends. Women he used, but stuck to brief affairs.

  But it didn’t matter if he liked her or not. He had to be strong. His people had been exiled for too long, and Lily was their only hope of ever seeing Ankesh again. Mal had no choice but to hand her over to a king he despised.

  Afterward, he would return home, fly once more. It would have to be enough.

  The penthouse was a stronghold, with steel doors and steel shutters that came down over the windows. He carried her through to the master bedroom, lowered her to the bed, and leaned over to remove the cuffs from her left wrist. She lay on her back, and his gaze lingered on her right arm. He had an almost overwhelming urge to see the mark again, to run his hands over it, stroke the flames. His hand came out, but at the last moment, he dropped it to his side and forced himself to step back from her.

  He turned and walked away without a backward glance.


  Chapter 5

  The lock clicked shut behind him.

  He was gone.

  When she was sure he wasn’t coming back, she dragged herself upright, rubbing at the red marks on her wrists where the cuffs had dug into her skin.

  Bastard.

  She was in a large, airy bedroom, sitting in the center of a huge bed with silk sheets and a crimson cover.

  Two doors led out of the room on opposite sides. One was the main door Mal had locked behind him, while the other opened into an opulent bathroom. She heaved a sigh of relief.

  A giant walk-in shower took up half the room. Before she could decide it was a bad idea, she stripped off her clothes and turned on the water, ran it as hot as possible, then stepped under the scalding spray. She didn’t bother washing, just stood and reveled in the heat as the sweat and fear were rinsed away.

  Her clothes were filthy. No way were they going back on. A fluffy black robe hung from a hook on the wall and she wrapped herself in that. She peered around the door, half-expecting him to be back, but the room was empty and she crossed to the bed.

  Exhaustion tugged at her mind and body making her brain slow and her limbs heavy. Curling herself into a ball, she closed her eyes as she tried to make sense out of the night’s events. The mattress was so soft, the sheets and pillows silky smooth, caressing her cheek. In the end, her lashes fluttered closed and she gave in.

  Something dragged her awake. The scent of wood smoke and cinnamon filled her nostrils and awareness prickled over her skin. The room was quiet and she forced her heavy lids open. Her whole body stiffened. Mal was on the bed with her.

  He leaned against the headboard, one long leg bent, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and regular.

  He’d obviously showered. His long hair was still damp and the sharp tang of citrus soap lingered on his skin. But beneath the scent of soap, she could smell smoke and fire. It dragged her back to her dreams, the really unwelcome ones where he’d been deep inside her and it had felt so good. At the memory, her nipples peaked and her sex grew hot and damp and heavy.

  She hated that.

  Perhaps it was time for another shower, a cold one this time, but she couldn’t seem to make herself move.

  At least he was almost dressed in black leather pants and a white silk shirt that hung open, baring the expanse of his chest. His skin was smooth, except for a thin line of dark, silky hair below his navel that disappeared into the waistband of his pants, and Lily had to clench her fist to stop herself from reaching out, touching him, stroking her fingers over the powerful muscles.

  “Seen enough?”

  She jumped. Her gaze flashed to his face, and she ground her teeth at the amusement reflected in those stunning golden eyes. Pulling herself upright, she tugged the robe tighter. “More than enough.” But even as she spoke, she was aware the words were a lie. Her gaze skittered to his left arm, then back to his face.

  He raised an eyebrow but slipped his shirt off and twisted so she could see the mark. Her breath caught in her throat, and without thinking, she shifted closer. She came up on her knees next to him. The mark was beautiful.

  Lily had always had mixed feelings about her own mark. When she was younger, she’d liked the idea that it showed she was different—special. Later, she’d hated it for the same reason and hidden it away. But love or hate, she’d spent hours studying it, tracing each scale, each lick of flame. Mal’s creature was strikingly similar to her own except for the coloring; his was red-gold, with eyes of emerald green.

  She gave in and reached out a trembling hand to run one finger along the sinuous serpentine body, followed its length over his shoulder, caressed its fierce head and the flames that licked from the open mouth. His skin was smoother than the silk sheets, hot under her fingertips as she stroked the swell of his chest. The last tongue of flame finished an inch below a dusky male nipple. His indrawn breath was loud as her finger scraped over the raised surface. She snatched her hand back.

  “Don’t stop there,” he said. “You were heading somewhere interesting.”

  She sat back on her heels. “You don’t want me like that,” she said. “I don’t know what it is you do want from me, but I’m pretty certain it’s not sex.”

  His lips curved into a slight smile. “Princess, your instincts are way off.”

  What the hell did that mean? Her gaze flickered down his body and halted at the bulge in his pants. His erection was obvious, straining at his fly. Where had that come from? A warm heavy weight settled in her belly, her mouth went dry and she swallowed, forcing her eyes back up to his face.

  “Well?” he murmured, his voice a low husky drawl. “Have you changed your mind about what I want?”

  This put a whole new turn on things. She inched away, increasing the distance between them.

  He laughed softly. “You look like some defenseless virgin about to be ravaged by her brutal attacker.” Then his eyes narrowed in disbelief. “I don’t believe it,” he muttered. He stood up in one fluid motion, raking his long hair back from his face and scowling down at her. “You’re a virgin?” He could hardly keep the incredulity from his voice, or the disgust.

  “No,” she snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She pursed her lips. “It’s just been a while.”

  In her teens, she’d run wild on the streets, embraced the whole gang thing, searching for any sort of connection she could get—throwing herself into a series of destructive relationships just to feel like she belonged. That had all changed when she was seventeen and her best friend had died of a drug overdose. Lily had seen herself heading the same way. She’d made the decision to turn herself around and there had been no one since.

  “How long?” he asked.

  She shrugged. She wasn’t ashamed of it. “Four years.”

  He scowled. What was wrong with that? She was only twenty-one. She had plenty of time. She’d just not met anyone she had wanted enough recently, hadn’t felt any inkling of sexual attraction with all the men who’d pursued her in the last few years. But then she had been mixing with rather a lot of accountants. Hardly exciting. Yet that’s what she’d wanted.

  Until now.

  He was naked from the waist up. On his left arm was the dragon mark; on his right, he wore a torc of gold and emeralds. He appeared wild, almost barbaric, but Lily knew instinctively that he wasn’t about to hurt her or rape her. He shook his head as though he still couldn’t believe her, and a flicker of annoyance flashed through her.

  “I’m choosy. What’s wrong with that?”

  ***

  What was wrong with that?

  The question echoed in his head as he fought to bring himself under control. Had he thought that if she were promiscuous, he could take her now, and then hand her over to Vortigen like some whore? The idea of her in Vortigen’s less than tender embrace made the bile rise in his throat.

  He was out of his fucking mind.

  The problem was, he hadn’t been thinking. At the first touch of her soft fingers, he’d lost his head. Now his body was still raging, his cock throbbing, pressing painfully against his fly.

  She was kneeling on the bed, her red hair a tangle of waves about her exquisite face, waiting for an answer he couldn’t give. He laughed, but the sound held no amusement. He couldn’t let her know what her future held. He required her cooperation until he handed her over to the King.

  She glared at him as though he was mad, but at least she had relaxed her deathlike grip on the robe as though realizing he posed no danger to her. The material gaped open revealing the shadowy curves of her small breasts, and a burning hunger coiled in his belly.

  He wanted her, more than he had ever wanted any woman. He wanted to possess her totally, keep her safe forever, and that was one thing he could never do.

  She was destined to belong to Vortigen. Only the King and his mate together could open the portal and take their people home.

  Tonight, Mal would hand her over to the King, and that would be the last o
f it.

  ***

  Okay, confused didn’t cover it. She did not want him. Really, she didn’t—she hated him. But in her whole life, Lily had never seen a man back off quite that fast.

  So she hadn’t been with a guy in a while. Did that make her untouchable? It wasn’t like a major crime. Now he was muttering under his breath, pacing the room then coming back and casting dark looks in her direction. Finally, he stopped moving, the tension left his body, and he took a deep breath.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Why what?” She was sure she knew what he was asking, but she was damned if she would make it any easier for him.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why has it been so long?”

  “I think I might be frigid.” Which had been the truth until tonight. None of the boys she’d been with had ever made her feel desire.

  “Frigid?” He came over to stand above her. “I don’t think so.”

  “What would you know about it?” she said through gritted teeth.

  His lids drooped, and he breathed in deeply. “I can smell your arousal.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You so cannot.” Was it possible? Ugh! She hoped not.

  He smiled and reached out a finger, brushing it across her lips. Lily gasped but didn’t back away. Her skin flushed with heat under his intense gaze, the soft toweling of her robe scraped against her sensitized nipples, and a moist heat pooled between her clenched thighs.

  “Can,” he murmured.

  Then he took a step back, and Lily breathed again.

  “But I’m not going to touch you.”

  A stab of disappointment knifed her in the belly. She forced a nonchalant frown. “Whoever said that was an option?” she snapped.

  “But…” He paused, and she peered at him suspiciously, “… I would like to see the mark again.”

  “The mark? My mark?”

  He nodded.

  She glanced down at herself. “I’ve got nothing on under here.”

  “I think I’ll be able to control myself.”

  “Bully for you.” But she believed him. If he decided he wasn’t going to touch her, then he wouldn’t. She had the feeling this man would always keep his word.