by Elle Thorne
And there, he waited for her to return. Sure enough, moments later, her dragon form, still soaking wet, flew through the water and nearly collided with him.
Instantly, she reared back, her dragon’s tail in the air, a weapon, ready to strike. Then she recognized him.
Her emerald-green dragon gaze studied him, her head raised, aloof. Was that a glimmer of humor in her eyes? By damn, it was.
“Kindly, shift, Allegra. I’d like a word with you.”
She dropped her head, clearly noting the chastising tone in his voice. Seconds later, she began a shift.
“Damn it, Allegra.” Larsen averted his gaze. “Where are your clothes? Why are you shifting naked?”
“I didn’t want to get them wet. That’d be a dead giveaway to what I’ve been up to. And I forgot to bring a change with me this time.”
“Get decent.” He fought the urge to look at her, the glimpse of creamy skin had been enough.
“Larsen.” Her voice was low, throaty, and too dangerously sexy. “Why do you deny it?”
He felt her body heat and knew she’d not had enough time to dress. Heaven help him, she was almost touching him. Even through his clothing he could feel her.
He jerked away when her fingertip traced his jawline. Her hand stayed on his skin, winding its way around his neck.
Slowly, her naked form pressed against his. “I know you feel it.”
He cleared his throat. Damn, did he ever. “And I know Salvatore meant it when he said Draecenguard are not to become involved with dragons. The penalty is death.” He turned and studied her face.
A face he’d fallen in love with. More than her face, really. He was completely and solely, irrevocably in love with everything about this damned, water-loving dragon shifter who persisted in breaking Salvatore’s edicts. Edicts meant to keep them alive.
She licked her bottom lip slowly, not realizing how seductive that was. Not only to him, but also to his bear. His bear, which at the moment, was pacing and snarling in his mind, insisting this woman was the one for them. Even though, it could mean their death.
“I feel it, Allegra. All of it.” He leaned in, his lips brushing hers, his hands tangling in the long dark waves of her hair, pulling her head back, taking her mouth, making her his own. Their tongues danced a primal dance, one known to mankind for eons. The dance of a kiss shared by lovers. Though they had yet to become lovers. God knew, the temptation was strong for him now.
He ran his hands down her sides, his fingertips barely touching the edge of full breasts, a waist which tapered, and full hips, a woman’s hips. He inhaled, tasting her desire on the air merging with his. Back up, his hands traveled, twisting in her hair once more, controlling her head, pulling it back once more, forcing their lips apart. “Do you have a death wish for me?” he whispered against her mouth.
She gasped. “Larsen. You’re my life. My love. I would never wish for that.” She grasped his shoulders, locking gazes with him. “I refused to believe Salvatore would harm you. I’ve seen how he is with you. He loves you like a son.”
Larsen shook his head. “Allegra, you discount Salvatore’s singular focus. To keep dragons safe.”
Her bottom lip trembled in a pout he almost couldn’t resist kissing.
“I love you,” he told her.
He’d never uttered those words to another. He’d never experienced a love like the one he had for her.
“I need you, Larsen.” Her words, spoken on a breath, merged with a deep yearning, held back.
“I’ve wanted you since the moment I caught sight of you in the courtyard, three years ago.” He could still remember that day. The stunning brunette who’d stared at him, a serious look on her face. “I’ll always want you, Allegra. Even when your hair has traces of gray and when time has etched beautiful lines next to your eyes.” He traced the area from her temples to where, one day, crow’s feet would rest and enhance the beauty of her.
“What if we leave?” she entreated. “What if we go and make our own lives. Elsewhere.”
“And leave the safety of the Draecenguard and the monastery?”
“We can protect ourselves. We can hide.”
He clenched his jaw. The prospect of keeping a dragon shifter a secret from the hunters Salvatore had warned him about, of the treachery among shifters to capture and kill dragons… He clenched his hands into fists. What if she was killed or captured?
Her fingers traveled from his shoulders to his chest, slowly unbuttoning the shirt. He was still, his body refusing to listen to his mind to put this aside. She parted the fabric, placing her palms flat against his skin, then lowered and raised them in a slow, lazy pattern. Finally, she put her hands on his shoulders, still under the shirt, and pushed the fabric off his shoulders.
Larsen’s erection strained painfully against the fabric of his shirt. “Allegra,” he groaned, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water crashing down below. He pulled away and took in the full glory of her. Naked, showcased by the blueness and the sun trying to penetrate the wall of water. Her dusky-tipped breasts were lush and beckoning him. A shadow of the triangle between her legs called him primordially.
Her soft moan, the lazy-lidded desire in her eyes broke his dam. Commitments, duty, oath, and honor all yielded to a higher force, one of love, desire, need.
He took her hand and led her to the clothing she’d left on the rock. Unfolding it and placing it on the hard surface, he lay her down on it, inclining her backward on her elbows while she watched him. He parted her legs, touching each knee reverently, while nudging her thighs wide. Her mouth opened slightly, small pants of anticipation matching the tiny pulse beating against the side of her neck.
Leaning in, he lowered himself until his lips were on a level with the mound of her. The sweet, musky core of her beckoned. His fingers pushed her lips apart, his tongue laving each spectacular fold as his tongue moved closer and closer to the tiny core housed within.
She gasped and threw her head back when his tongue touched her tender center. Larsen latched on, sucking it, drinking in the scent and taste of her, becoming intoxicated on the sensations.
Shortly, she climaxed, her legs clamping around his head as she arched against his mouth. When she floated down from her ecstasy, she lay there, the picture of fulfilled womanhood, breathing heavy, her skin rosy under the olive tone. Reaching up, he traced her nipples with his thumbs, making them tauter.
At last, she opened her eyes, her languid gaze calling to him. Rising, he removed his pants and climbed on the rock next to her. He tucked a lock of ebony hair behind her ear then leaned in and took her mouth with his, claiming her the way he wanted to take her body. She slid closer and tugged on his arm to allow her under him.
He shifted his body and, seconds later, was poised above her, his thickness pressing against her entrance.
“Larsen,” she whispered and thrust her body up.
As he felt her start to surround him, he plunged deep within, his length completely buried deep. She released a short cry that ended with a moan of pleasure while he gave her all of himself and took all she had.
An eternity, and yet, what might have been a few moments later, they lay next to each other.
“We should get back.”
“Mmm.” Larsen was in a stupor—the singular best and worst thing ever. Shit would be bad if Salvatore found out. “I need to wash in the lake, first. You, too. Can’t have anyone smelling anything on us.” And by damn, that smell was delicious. He inhaled, savoring the scent of them.
“Just stand on the ledge there” —she pointed— “to the right. You’ll be in the water. It’s quicker, and that way, we don’t have to go into the lake.”
Chapter Two
Allegra held Larsen’s hand as they made their way back to the monastery. She refused to feel bad for what they’d done. Salvatore’s thoughts on the subject be damned. She loved Larsen, and she would not allow the head dragon shifter to come between them. There was no way he meant it when
he’d said no Draecenguard was allowed to leave their post alive. And surely, he’d come off his strict rules about not being involved with their Draecenguard when he saw how much they loved each other. Most assuredly, that would be better.
A man who loved her—Draecenguard or not—was more likely to be more vehement in protecting his woman than a who did not. She mentioned this to Larsen.
“Yes, but,” Larsen countered, “a man in love is not likely to think as clearly when he’s charged with protecting the one he loves.”
“Precisely,” a third voice concurred.
They both whirled around.
At the hidden side gate to the monastery was Salvatore, his face as set as the large boulder upon which he sat. “And yet,” he continued, his hard gaze piercing Larsen, “knowing this, and even voicing it now, you have done what you have done.”
Larsen did not respond. He simply kept his eyes on the head dragon shifter.
Salvatore’s face remained stoic, though his eyes spoke volumes. “Seems what I feared is true. And neither of you appear inclined to deny it.”
“I’m not going to put my life on hold because of your asinine rules.” Allegra’s temper had finally gotten the best of her.
“You, I will see in your room. Immediately,” Salvatore told her. “And as for you,” he whipped his head toward Larsen. “I will see you after. Wait in the main dining hall.”
When he is Griz….
In The Present
Chapter Three
“Do you ever think of her?” Mae asked.
Griz and Mae were in his workshop, in the tunnels of Bear Canyon Valley. He’d kept this part of the tunnels to himself, mostly. Mostly meaning that Mae and her mate Doc were aware, but no one else.
Mae’d strolled on in, not a care in the world it seemed, though he could see in the depths of her dark eyes something was weighing on her mind. He’d gone back to sanding and woodworking, staying silent while he waited for her to speak.
Man, oh man, and when she’d spoken, she’d gone and done it with that one question. Asking did he ever think of her.
Griz glanced up from the crib he’d been crafting out of oak for Circe’s baby. “Her?” He put on his most innocent look.
His expression may have been innocent, but by damn, the scar running from his eyebrow to his jaw felt as though it was on fire. Hell, it felt worse than a flame. Felt more like a searing red poker had been placed on his skin.
Mae raised one brow in her beautiful face. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
He strove harder for the innocent mien. Even going for ignorance. His face blank as he could make it, he put down the piece of wood. “Pretend?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re worse than Doc. I swear.” She harrumphed. “You’re going to pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about. And I suppose you’ll say you never think of her.”
“Never.” The scar burned stronger. He kept from flinching. God knew he wanted to, that was how fierce the pain was.
“Liar.” Mae pursed her lips. “Unless by never, you mean always.”
Pretty much, Griz thought, but he’d be damned if he’d share that with Mae. Some things should never leave a man’s lips. Admitting he ever thought of her was one of those things.
Her.
Allegra Draecen.
Now, he found himself fighting not to scowl. On a good day, with a relaxed face, he was well aware he looked fearsome. He never allowed himself to scowl, frown, or grimace because he recognized this made his countenance frightful. Though, truth be told, he doubted Mae would ever fear him.
“Why are you bringing her up?” He gave in to the sensation and ran a finger along his scar.
Mae sucked in a breath and puffed her cheeks out, her gaze worried as she studied him. Then she blew the air out and dropped her shoulders. “She sent a letter.” She held out an envelope.
Griz glanced down quickly then raised his eyes. How’d he miss that? He hadn’t even noticed she’d had anything in her hands. He rubbed the scar again.
Mae fiddled with the envelope, passing it from one hand to the other.
Griz lowered his gaze to the cream-colored rectangle once more, stared at it as if it were a rattlesnake. Hell, he could handle a rattlesnake—a whole den of them—better than a letter from Allegra.
“I didn’t open it.”
“I wasn’t accusing you.” He gave her a smile he didn’t feel to soften the tone of his words.
“It was in a larger envelope, addressed to me. Came through the post office. That envelope, I opened, of course. It had my name on it. All that was inside was this.” She held it out to him.
He sucked in air and took it, studying this one connection to the woman who’d once meant the world to him. Still did, for all intents and purposes, though he hadn’t seen her in… It felt like forever.
The envelope had two symbols on it. Two letters. That was it.
The letter A where the return address would have been.
The letter G where the addressee’s name would have been.
“How’d you know it was for me? It’s not as though she bothered to put either of our names on here.”
“Come on.” Mae’s smile was cryptic.
Mae was probably one of the best friends he’d ever had. At least, in this phase of his life. He’d left the other phases behind, long ago. She was the closest thing he had to a confidante. But there were some things he hadn’t even told her. “You’re not psychic, Mae. How’d you know?”
“The envelope it was in had her full name on it. An address, too.”
He scratched at a few days’ growth on his jawline. “What address?” Yes, he’d definitely like to know where Allegra was.
“I Googled it.”
“I figured as much. And?”
“Virtual mailbox.” She shrugged.
“Not surprising.” He tapped the envelope on his thigh, considering whether he wanted to read it or throw in in the fireplace.
Now, why did he go thinking a thing like that?
He tucked it between a couple of boards on the bench, with just the corner sticking out.
Mae scowled. “Not going to open it?”
“Not at the moment.”
“I’m worried about you.” She put her arm around him, leaned her head on his side.
“Don’t be. I’m fine. Been fine for a long time.”
He felt her shaking her head, but she said nothing.
Inside him, his bear was perplexed, too. Later, when he was alone, Griz would shift and give the bear his head. Let him run through the woods, burn off the emotions that had surfaced with the envelope.
But for now, Griz needed to keep Mae and the questions he could tell were burning in her mind, at bay. Mae had heard the name Allegra when she’d asked him about not having a woman. Not having a mate. He’d told her briefly that there’d been a woman, once. A woman named Allegra.
Mae continued to study him, but he remained silent.
He didn’t want to talk about Allegra Draecen.
Not one bit.
He didn’t want to think of her. Even though she’d left an impression on him that was burning into his heart, his memory, his very soul.
The next morning, Griz, in his bear form—a grizzly bear, no less—rambled through the woods at a brisk pace, wavering between a full run and a trot. His bear was panting, heart beating at a breakneck speed.
“Run all you want,” Griz told his bear in their collective mind. “Run until you can’t run anymore.”
But Griz no matter how much his bear ran, no matter how much he himself ran, he wouldn’t be able to push Allegra from his mind. Or heart. Or his bear’s heart and mind.
She haunted him, her memory following him no matter where he went. He’d spent years not remembering her, and then later, he’d spent years trying to forget her, but the scent of the ocean, the wind blowing in the trees, the notes of a song, anything and everything reminded him of the only woman he’d ever
loved.
The night before had been a sleepless one, naturally. And the letter had stayed in its spot between the two boards. Though he’d wondered how she knew to put a G on the envelope. G for Griz. Not L for Larsen, which was the name she used to know him by. The only name he’d had back then.
After walking Mae to the door, he’d left the woodshop. He couldn’t stay there, not without feeling Allegra’s presence. Not without smelling her.
He hadn’t told Mae, but his shifter senses had picked up Allegra’s scent and nearly drove his bear mad with the need to roar in despair.
“You’re not the only one who’s broken-hearted,” Griz reminded his bear.
His bear growled at him, the sound loud in the forest, bouncing off trees and mountainsides.
“So much for staying quiet,” Griz grumbled.
Then his bear froze. He’d heard something. They waited for whatever was out in the wilderness to reveal itself. It wasn’t as though Griz was afraid. Why would he be? A massive grizzly, he had nothing to fear in these forested mountainous lands.
Almost nothing, he reminded himself, for shifters did have enemies, and some of those enemies were shifters themselves.
There it was, the sound again. Crunching of leaves, snapping of twigs. His bear made a rumbling sound deep in his chest.
Another bear stepped into the tiny clearing.
Griz’s bear narrowed its eyes, appraising.
With the typical rigmarole of bones crunching, sinew adjusting and shortening, the newcomer shifted into a human form.
Doc Evans, in rumpled clothing that looked like he’d been wrestling, leaned against a tree, a half-smile on his face.
Griz’s bear nodded, then Griz shifted into his human form, grimacing at the discomfort shifting caused
“Thought I’d find you out here.” Doc crossed the clearing at a casual pace, as though he was out for a walk in the park.
“Pretty good distance from your place,” Griz reminded him.