by Leela Ash
Jackson. Owen Jackson.
The man who murdered Cally.
Shivers swept over her and a chill seemed to creep into the room.
Until strong arms pulled her close, warming her with their embrace. “I’m sorry. Here I am babbling about myself and you must think you’re going mad.”
Madness wasn’t her problem. It was her treacherous, unfaithful heart. Here she sat, beside a friend of the man who killed her sister. And did she hate him? Was she filled with righteous fury for the evil that Dragons had done to her?
No. Her heart didn’t care about any of that. Selfish, it relished his closeness, the heat of his perfect body. It grew drunk on the sight of his lean, powerful form.
Her heart didn’t care that he was a Dragon.
It wanted him.
“Annie.” Emerald eyes, rich with power and magic, bored into hers. It would have been enchanting, intoxicating…
…If he’d used her true name. But that false word hung between them, reminding her of her own deception.
“Will you Claim me?”
Okay, that actually was a lot like proposing marriage! Handsome as he was, Dakota had no intention of wedding a complete stranger. But getting married in a dream didn’t matter, though. Did it? And wouldn’t he grow hostile and suspicious if she refused?
Truly, she didn’t have much choice. “Yes? I guess? Oh, I’m sorry,” she winced as his nose wrinkled. “You’re probably expecting something more enthusiastic. It’s just…this is all so weird.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he assured her. “My Alpha Claimed his Mate perfectly. Straight by the numbers, of course.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Everyone else had at least hiccups in their Rites. A couple really screwed the pooch. I think we’re doing better than them.” He paused, considering. “Probably about average.”
So, now their Rite was being graded? If Michael started coaching her on how to improve her Claim game, it was really going to ruin the mood.
Fortunately, before that could happen, a voice of thunder rumbled in the blue skies above. “NO CLAIM WITHOUT TRUTH! SHOW HER!”
Dakota flinched – but Michael’s face lit with joy.
“What was that?”
“Fate? The First Dragon? My own soul?” He leaned on the edge of the open window, staring up at the sky. “No one knows. But it’s how the Rite begins. I need to show you the truth.”
Above the garden, the air shivered as a vast form developed.
It was a Dragon, its scales as red as Michael’s burning hair. Before it, Dakota froze like a rabbit in headlights. Her eyes darted back and forth between the curved daggers of its talons to its fanged jaws big enough to snap her up in one gulp. It was a dinosaur, a t-rex with wings, the most terrifying thing she had ever seen…
…Until she met its gaze.
Michael’s emerald eyes burned in the monster’s face. Light swirled around their pupils, filling them with kindness.
No, with love.
This thing loved her. Irrational as that was, she knew it, to the bottom of her soul.
As her shock faded, she saw the creature more clearly. The proud toss of its head. The wild nobility of its sinuous body. Yes, it was a predator, it was deadly.
But it was beautiful. As beautiful as it was terrifying.
Michael turned to face her, and the creature hovered in the garden behind him. “This is my Dragon. Would you Claim us?”
Could she? This was no pet, no loyal mastiff. This was a fierce, deadly, untamed creature. Filled with an immense power. A burning brand, magic incarnate.
And what was she? A college dropout only one step ahead of the homeless people she served. A woman who couldn’t manage to save her own sister.
Shame welled up within her – until she met the Dragon’s eyes again.
No, those eyes promised, that is not the Truth of you. You protect the weak, as best you can. You are brave and clever. You are a Dragon’s Mate.
“Yes,” she whispered, as her heart grew still. She didn’t know if she spoke to Michael or to his Dragon soul.
“THEN CLAIM EACH OTHER!” That spectral roar split the night again, as the red Dragon faded from view. “TAKE WHAT IS YOURS!”
“There should be a… Yes!” Michael raised a wicked-looking black dagger. “Got it! And you should have a cup?”
Her hands were wrapped around something. To her surprise, Dakota found she held a large golden chalice. A Dragon, embossed in red gold, curled around its stem.
“Great!”
He looked so happy, so pleased with himself. Her last worries vanished, and Dakota burst into giggles.
Guess our Claim score is improving!
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” She bit her lips and smiled. “What’s next?”
“You raise your chalice. I plunge the dagger into it.”
Simple enough. They quickly did that.
“And now?”
Michael took the goblet from her then tossed it and the dagger aside. “Now, we make love.”
That statement – so bold, so blunt – startled her. Yes, she’d let him ‘Claim’ her. Yes, she said she’d be his Mate. But did she really want him?
Oh yes, her heart whispered. While her head fussed and worried, her heart knew exactly what it wanted. It wanted him to take her. Here, now, without any further delay. It wanted to see him burn with longing and feel the same heat rise in her.
He saw that desire echoed in her eyes – and it was all the invitation he needed.
Michael slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. Hard muscles pressed against her stomach, her breasts, with nothing but a thin scrap of cloth keeping them apart. His lips, hungry and eager, found hers. A tingle echoed through her body at the touch. An electric charge that brought her body to life. How long had it been since a man touched her like this? How long since she’d been fully alive, fully a woman?
Everywhere, she felt him. The first stirring of his manhood, nuzzling against her crotch. Arms wrapped close, a fortress shielding her from the sorrow of her life. Banishing it from her thoughts. Lips, soft and warm, exploring hers. His hands, one stroking the curves of her buttocks.
The other found the cord that tied her braid together. Though he tugged it free, her hair stayed bound, demure and cool.
His kisses drifted to her cheek, then throat. Dakota tilted her head back, offering her body to his inquisitive mouth. Fingers teased her braid and the first loops parted, yielding to his touch. At each stroke of his hand, another loosened. Long brown locks, always kept tightly under control, spilled free. Soft, they whispered across her shoulders and stirred at the touch of Michael’s breath. Had it truly been three years since she allowed her hair (or herself) to be free?
Her own hands explored his body. Curling through the flames of his locks. Gliding down the hard planes of his body, the strange, masculine lines of his back. Stroking the tight, firm swell of his ass. And his body blossomed beneath her touch. Breath grew deeper, kisses more urgent. His manhood awakened, roused by the feel of her body, rubbing against it.
“Let me see you,” he whispered, drawing back.
Only a simple robe separated them. Dakota slipped one strap off her shoulder and the gown fluttered to the ground, a puddle of white silk pooling around her feet. As the garden breeze whispered around her breasts, she started to cover them. Dim memories, echoes of another, unkind lover, stirred old shames.
But Michael caught her hand, raising it to his mouth for one sweet kiss. Joy lit his face as his eyes devoured her. Joy – and something else. A hunger, a need. A desire that would not be denied. That longing, and the bulge at his crotch, sang the truth of his lust. Faced with that desire, her hesitation melted away.
“Someone hurt you.” Menace roughened his voice.
“It’s nothing. Someone stupid, a long time ago.”
“I’m not that man,” he promised. “And no one will ever hurt you again.”
Muscled arms swept her off her
feet and cradled her against his chest. Dakota marveled at the ease, his control. One flicker of doubt – would he drop her? – quickly drowned by passion. How strange to trust a man not to hurt her. Then she gave herself to that pleasure. The sensation of his arms, hard, unyielding, holding her aloft. The sensuous feel of being helpless in his grasp as he strode to the bed. A delicious submission, a sense of being trapped in a cage she had no desire to escape.
Gently, he lowered her on the bed’s silk cover. For one moment, he stood above her, red hair burning in the cool light, worshipping her body with those emerald, luminous eyes. Then he knelt beside her on the bed and lowered himself, covering her with his heat, his desire.
Caught beneath him, Dakota’s breath grew ragged. She slipped her legs apart, welcoming him. The silk sash hiding his manhood came loose with a single tug and he tossed it aside, freeing his cock. She couldn’t see it, but she felt its hard, eager length press against her, setting her on fire with an ecstasy like none she’d ever felt. Fast behind that feeling came the lightest hint of disappointment. Their union would be over soon, once he’d slaked his desire. Yet she couldn’t be too disappointed. No lover had ever aroused her so fiercely.
Then again, she’d never been Claimed by a Dragon. Michael Farrell wasn’t done. Not even close to it.
He slid lower, settling between her legs. She felt his cock slip across her cleft, a stroke that drew a moan from her lips and left her aching for the touch of his manhood.
Kisses trailed down her throat again, tracing a path to the swell of her breasts. Dakota arched her back as his mouth closed around her nipple, sucking. His tongue circled, teasing, lashing that tender spot. Under his playful mouth, her nipple stiffened and came alive.
One arm held him up, so that his weight remained a delightful prison, pinning her, holding her, as he drew her lust higher. The other hand caressed her side, her hip. It cupped the globes of her buttocks, squeezing them, claiming them. Then it slipped lower, curling over her thigh to steal between her legs.
She gasped as pleasure blazed at that soft, stealthy touch brushing against her pubic hairs. Her fingers clutched his shoulders and for one moment, she feared that it would be too much. That the desire consuming her would end too soon, in some lesser release.
As if he could sense how close she rode to the edge, Michael eased back. His hand stole away, leaving her most secret parts to play along her legs, her buttocks.
But it was too late to move slowly. The lust that consumed her would no longer be denied, or delayed. Thoughts and plans dissolved, melting under the blazing rapture. Moans escaped her, hungry, animal cries of need.
A need he shared. Pushed to the limits, his control buckled, and he surrendered to his own fierce desire.
With a swift thrust, Michael entered her. His cock, hard and swollen, filled her, sending a wave of pleasure rushing over her. Dakota wailed, lost in the throes of her pleasure.
One after another, the strokes came. Each fanning the bonfire that blazed inside her. Each driving her deeper into ecstasy. Michael’s masterful control dissolved under the force of that passion and he, too, cried out with his need. Their voices joined, urged each other on, until, at last, with a final moan, he came. That cry, and the feel of him exploding within her, pushed Dakota over the edge. Pleasure swept over her, waves of ecstasy that consumed all thought.
Panting, Michael rolled to Dakota’s side. She lay beside him, savoring the glow of their union, wishing it would never end.
“Michael,” she whispered, “that was…”
Before she could finish, the dream around her dissolved.
Dakota woke in her own bed, alone.
Chapter 5
Even the rich scent of fresh coffee couldn’t hold Dakota’s attention. Still lost in that dream, she could not pull herself fully into this lonely, empty world. Why should she, when dreams were more real, more fulfilling? Michael’s arms around her, protection against all the world’s sorrows. The taste of his lips, the feel of him inside her. His mastery, the control with which he brought them, both of them, to ecstasy.
How could a dream feel so real? Hell, how could sex be that good?
The ringtone of her phone finally dragged her out of those memories. A call could only mean one thing.
Time to check in.
“Hello?”
A cool, familiar voice replied, “Good morning, Miss Vance. This is Mr. Alester’s secretary, Mariset.”
Was that a first name or a surname?
“Mr. Alester wanted me to make sure that your accommodations are acceptable.”
“Yes. They’re, um, fine.”
“And your cover story?”
“What?”
“Is it clear? Do you have any questions about it?”
“No. Uh, no.”
A pause, then Mariset murmured, “Do you have company?”
“No. I’m here alone.”
“Really? You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m sorry. It’s just early and I, uh, had a strange dream I can’t quite get out of my head.”
“Tell me.”
“It was nothing.” Alone in her kitchen, Dakota blushed. No way in hell she was telling anybody about that dream!
Ice frosted the Hare’s words. “Don’t withhold information, Miss Vance. You’re venturing into a world of magic and Shifters – things you know nothing about. Any detail, even one that seems innocent to you, could prove fatal.”
That reproach stung but it also roused her to anger. If this project was so dangerous, why had they chosen an ‘ignorant’ person like her? “It was just a very vivid dream.”
“Full sensory input? Taste, smell, touch?”
“Yes.”
“What was the subject matter of this dream?”
Color crept higher up her cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sexual?”
Could this woman not take no for an answer? “I said…”
A soft exclamation interrupted her. “Let me guess,” Mariset said. Her voice dropped to an excited, greedy whisper. “You met your neighbors yesterday. The Dragons. Then one of them appeared in your dream.”
The phone almost slipped through her fingers. “How do you know that?”
Silence answered her question.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Vance. I don’t believe you’ll be able to help us bring your sister’s murderer to justice.”
“What? No!” Dakota yelped with outrage.
“The danger is too great. I want you to get in your car, now, and drive away. Where, doesn’t matter. Just get away.”
The Hare’s concern might have been touching – if she was capable of faking human emotions. But despite her dire words, Mariset didn’t sound the least bit upset. If anything, she seemed…well, eager. Suspicious, Dakota wondered what her game was. “Because of some stupid dream? No. I don’t give up that easily. Tell me what’s going on.”
“In this ‘dream’, did anyone use the phrase ‘the Rite of Claiming’?”
“Y-yes,” Dakota stammered, shocked that she would know this.
“That’s what I was afraid of. Miss Vance, the Rite of Claiming is how a Dragon chooses his next victim. It creates a bond between them, so that the Dragon can find its prey no matter where they hide.”
Dakota sank to the kitchen floor, numb with shock.
Michael had tagged her? “He said I was his Mate…”
“Yes. And, like the praying mantis, Dragons devour their Mates. Usually in the midst of some sexual ritual too depraved for me to describe.”
But he’d held her, comforted her. Sheltered her when her sister’s loss overwhelmed her.
Could this be true? Could the man who had touched her with such love, such longing, truly hurt her?
No. She couldn’t believe it. Could she?
As she wavered, the Hare drove in the final nail. “I imagine this is how Owen Jackson tracked your sister down.”
Li
ke a blow to the stomach, those words knocked the wind out of Dakota and reminded her of the one unyielding truth.
Cally was dead. Someone killed her.
And for the first time in her life, she had a chance to find out who – and why. How could she let herself be swept off her feet by some foolish nocturnal tryst? She wasn’t here to chase silly lies like ‘true love’.
She needed to find her sister’s killer.
“Miss Vance? Are you there?”
“Yes. Look, I’m not leaving. I need to find out what happened to my sister.”
“But…”
The doorbell rang, and once again, she nearly dropped her phone on the floor. “Someone’s here. I have to go.”
Chapter 6
How had he been so blind?
Yesterday, Annie Crane seemed nothing more than a beautiful woman. Sure, Michael had admired her curvy figure, the elegant French braid that bound her long brown hair. Full lips, soft, rounded face, a low-cut blouse, long legs… What man wouldn’t notice?
Today, when she opened the door for him, he saw what he’d missed.
The kindness in her eyes. The way the light set her hair aglow. The proud firmness of her face, whispering of a strength that would always resist the grief that ate at her soul.
A grief he intended to uncover and fix.
Annie Crane was his Mate. As a Dragon, it was his sacred duty to protect her from all dangers, past or present. No matter who or what had hurt her, he would find them and make them pay.
But first, he had a lot of explaining to do.
“Annie? Could I talk to you?”
She stared at him blankly, and for one second, he thought fear had overcome her. Then she stepped aside. “Sure. Come in. I just made a pot of coffee. Would you like some?”
“Yes, please.” He followed her into the kitchen, admiring the sway of her hips as she walked. Even first thing in the morning, she was sexy as hell.
But her hands shook as she filled two mugs. Michael laid a hand on hers. “Annie, you dreamed about me last night, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. The tremors grew, and now her whole body shook.
Poor woman. What did it feel like to have your world turned upside down by a single dream? He couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to learn that your sane, comfortable reality was a lie. That magic and Dragons existed – and had chosen you.