Dragon's Mate: A DragonFate Novel (The DragonFate Novels Book 4)

by Deborah Cooke

  It had been far too long.

  To her embarrassment, he was the one who broke their kiss. “But a selkie healer helped me,” he murmured and it took Rania a moment to figure out what he was talking about. He watched her intently all the while.

  “I doubt that the healer’s nature matters,” she admitted, studying his mouth again. “Maybe dragon shifters are immune.” She was talking too much and she knew it but she couldn’t stop.

  Was she beguiled?

  Hadrian shook his head. “No, I felt its effect. I still do.”

  “It’s changing,” she admitted, hearing her own uncertainty.

  “Why?”

  Rania shook her head, mystified. “I’ve never seen it do this before. I’ve never seen it be ineffective before.”

  He smiled and she could only stare. “Maybe it’s because of the firestorm.”

  “You can’t really believe that we’re destined mates.”

  “What if I do? What if that’s what makes me impossible to kill?”

  Rania felt an uncharacteristic surge of despair. “No. That can’t be it. I can’t fail.”

  “Why not?” He was watching her closely, divining her secrets again. “Everyone fails sometimes.”

  “Not me. I can’t.” She wriggled against him, remembering her mission a little too late. “You don’t know what’s at stake...”

  “Then tell me.”

  Rania glanced at her wrist and the red string, then found herself telling him the truth. “The deal is thirteen kills to set thirteen free.”

  “I expected one for one, but thirteen is a lot. Am I lucky thirteen?”

  She nodded, then shook her head with a frown. “You’re not lucky.”

  “I’ll guess you’re one of the thirteen who will be freed.” He frowned slightly in concentration and rolled to his side, letting his hand slide down to her waist. She liked the weight of it there, and the way he absently drew circles against her skin with his thumb. “Who are the others?”

  “My twelve brothers.” She took a breath, aware of the way her nipples tightened. The white light was blinding and distracting, never mind how Hadrian’s eyes glittered in awareness. It felt warm in the room, despite the cool fury of the firestorm.

  “So you made a deal to set them free, and you’re keeping your end of the bargain,” he said, with a nod of approval. He withdrew slightly, as if he wanted to collect his thoughts, watching her closely. His thumb still circled, sending desire radiating through her. She braced herself but his next words surprised her, all the same. “I hope you’re not thinking the Dark Queen is going to keep her promise.”

  Rania was insulted. “Of course, she will. We have a deal...”

  “She’ll change it.” Hadrian interrupted her protest. “She doesn’t care about keeping her word. She only cares about winning. She won’t let you go that easily, or even your brothers.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “I know about the Dark Queen,” he said grimly. “I know she lies and cheats to get her way.”

  Rania felt protective of Maeve. “You don’t know that...”

  “I do. I know that red string burns because I had one, too. And I was forced to dance until my feet bled.” He slid a hand up to cup her breast, admiration lighting his expression as he watched its progress. He swallowed. She stared at his smile as he teased her nipple to a taut peak, rolling it between his finger and thumb, coaxing its response even through her clothes. “What’s your name, swan-maiden?” he whispered, his voice husky. “You have to know that we’re both on her list of intended victims.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Rania said, pulling back a bit. She was alarmed that she was so susceptible to him and this firestorm.

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything more. I’ve told you too much already.”

  Hadrian smiled crookedly at her and the sight was enough to make her stare. Had she ever seen a more attractive man? “It’s like you want to talk,” he murmured. Before she could argue, he flattened his hand and slid his palm down the length of her, the warm weight of his hand easing beneath the waistband of her tights. Rania knew his destination and couldn’t bring herself to evade his caress. He met her gaze, waiting and watching, but she swallowed and stayed put.

  Just one touch.

  Then she’d finish him.

  When Hadrian’s fingertips slid into the warm wet heat of her, Rania knew she’d never felt anything better. She arched her back and gasped. He stole a kiss and she parted her legs, unwilling to deny herself the pleasure he offered. His fingers were gentle and strong, just like him, and he caressed her with a surety that brought her blood to a boil.

  Just a little bit more. Just a little indulgence...

  “You have told me a lot,” he agreed in a whisper, his lips against her ear. Rania shivered with pleasure. “Maybe you need to confess your secrets.”

  “Or maybe I’m beguiled.” The possibility was a reminder that made Rania pull away slightly.

  Hadrian shook his head emphatically. “I’m not beguiling you.”

  “As if I would believe you.”

  “You should. It’s true. There would be flames in my eyes if I was beguiling.”

  Rania looked. There were no flames. Was he telling the truth?

  He nodded as if he’d guessed her thoughts. “I am. What if we make a deal?” he suggested, his gaze hot. “What if we satisfy the firestorm before you kill me? I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Rania stared at him in astonishment. “You want me to have your son?”

  Hadrian nodded, resolute. “You’re making thirteen assassinations to free your brothers. Although I don’t love your choice, I can respect your loyalty to your family. I think we have similar ideas about defending what’s important.”

  “And what’s important to you is the firestorm?”

  “Right.” He grinned at her. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to have a son. How could I turn my back on that? It’s a legacy.”

  “Nothing says you have to fulfill it.”

  “But I should. It’s an obligation and an opportunity.”

  “It doesn’t sound like much of an opportunity to me.”

  “But what if we made that deal? What if we surrendered to the firestorm, and then I made it easy for you to kill me?”

  Rania couldn’t believe it but Hadrian was serious.

  “You’d let your assassin have your son?”

  He chuckled. “I’d let my destined mate have my son.”

  Rania opened her mouth to argue but Hadrian captured her mouth with his, slowly and decisively, and she forgot whatever she was going to say. He was going to win his argument with sensation and she couldn’t think of a reason to protest. She already guessed that it would be great. There was something deeply satisfying about his obvious desire. It made her aware of every pleasure she’d denied herself during these centuries in Maeve’s service.

  It made her consider his suggestion.

  Even, potentially, at the price of bringing a Pyr son into the world.

  “What do you know about the firestorm?” Hadrian whispered in her ear long moments later.

  Rania was trying to catch her breath and gather her thoughts, without success on either front. “As much as I need to,” she replied. “I’m not going to have a Pyr son.”

  Hadrian smiled with that dragon confidence that made her want to get naked with him. “I might convince you.”

  “Good luck,” she replied, her heart leaping at the possibility.

  “I like a challenge.” His lashes swept down and he smiled, the combination making him look mysterious and potent. “Maybe you’ll find me persuasive,” he said so softly that his words were a rumble she felt against her chest.

  Maybe she would.

  He bent and kissed her ear again, his fingers working their magic against her. His breath gave her shivers. His touch made her gasp. Rania didn’t know whether she’d be able to stop their
embrace. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to. Her leg was already locking around his, as if her body had a will of its own, and she was breathless as she stared into his eyes. They were so green. His mouth was so firm. He was taking his time, tormenting her with temptation, willing her to agree.

  Rania could have disappeared.

  She could have shifted shape.

  But being the woman Hadrian was determined to seduce suited her just fine.

  What if she made love to him—or let him make love to her? It might be kind to let him satisfy the firestorm as his last living act.

  Although kindness had never been on her agenda before.

  She was hesitating again, doubting her path, which wasn’t like her at all. Maybe this firestorm was changing her somehow.

  Maybe a certain dragon shifter was.

  Hadrian brushed his mouth across hers again, a caress as gentle as the touch of butterfly wings, and Rania didn’t want to think about anything anymore.

  Strategically, sex might lead to a weak moment, one in which she could easily overwhelm this powerful dragon shifter.

  Nothing said they had to complete the act. She just needed to catch him by surprise.

  When Hadrian leaned closer, eyes gleaming, she reached to meet him halfway. She sighed with satisfaction when he slanted his mouth over hers, claiming her with his touch, then speared her fingers into his hair, drawing him closer.

  This might be his last hour. She should make sure it was worth dying for.

  Hadrian didn’t trust his mate one bit—but he was enchanted by her. He was sure that she was welcoming his touch because she meant to trick him, but the insistent burn of the firestorm made it impossible to turn away from her. The firestorm fed his need for her and drove all coherent thought from his mind. When she welcomed him and kissed him back, there was nothing else in the world but his perfect destined mate.

  Even though he didn’t know her name.

  Even though she was an assassin for the Fae, obligated to kill him.

  Hadrian chose to believe in the promise of the firestorm.

  She was so sweet, her lips so soft, her enthusiasm so unexpected. She opened her mouth to him and touched her tongue to his, driving him wild. She was tentative, as if she was more accustomed to fighting than loving, but Hadrian was more than ready to guide her on this new path. Her hand was locked in his hair, drawing him closer in silent demand.

  Okay, she was direct. That was best of all.

  He heard a door close and knew that Alasdair and Balthasar had left the lair. He didn’t actually care whether they overheard, but his mate might prefer the privacy.

  Her confession, that she served Maeve’s will to free her brothers, proved they had traits in common. Hadrian would have done anything for his fellow Pyr, and he had to admit that might include assassination if there was no other choice. He knew that when Maeve had compelled him to dance, he would have promised anything to end his own agony.

  His mate was trapped in a bad situation. That didn’t make her a bad person.

  She was wearing black, like a burglar, tights and a hoodie, boots and a long-sleeved T-shirt that hugged her curves. He could feel her lithe strength when he ran his hands over her and he liked how responsive she was to his touch. That was another sign that this partnership was destined to be, and that the firestorm had chosen correctly for him.

  And she was beautiful. It was easy to remember the glorious shine of her feathers, the grace she possessed in flight, how alluring she was in either form.

  He braced himself over her, kissing her thoroughly as he undid the zipper of her sweatshirt. He pushed it off, tugging her shirt and bra after it, then bent to take one rosy nipple in his mouth. There was an old healed scar on her midriff, but he didn’t want to talk about the past. She wore a ring on a chain around her neck, a ring big enough to have been a man’s. The stone glowed, the way some opals or moonstones did. Hadrian didn’t study it, since he had better things to do. He did wonder then whether she had another romantic commitment or a relationship that hadn’t worked out.

  Before he could ask, she caught his head in her hands and pulled him down for a scorching kiss, moaning with pleasure as if she couldn’t do anything else. He was breathless by the time he lifted his head and could turn his attention to her nipple again. He wanted to give her pleasure. He wanted to convince her that the firestorm was right for both of them.

  He was amazed by her splendor. She was so fair, her skin pale and smooth, each breast of exactly the right size to fill his palm. Her nipples were rosy and became redder as he tormented them. He teased that first nipple to a peak, then turned his attention to the other one, kissing and suckling until they were both taut and red and she was squirming. He could smell her need and that made his heart pound.

  He ran his hands down her sides and pushed off her tights, taking her boots with them and casting it all to the floor. She was naked in his bed, her eyes vivid blue, a faint flush on her cheeks as the radiance of the firestorm crackled and snapped between them. She reached for him, but Hadrian ducked down and closed his mouth over her sweet heat. She gasped in surprise then arched back, opening her legs to him and falling back against the mattress. She was slick and wet, hot and luscious, and he fought to hold his own desire in check as he gave her pleasure.

  He’d prove to her that he was worth keeping alive.

  He tasted and teased her, driving her toward her release then retreating, ensuring that she was burning by the time he finally pushed her over the edge. She screamed and dug her nails into his back, thrashing in her release so that he grinned at her enthusiasm. Their gazes locked for an incendiary moment and he felt as if time stopped.

  Then he saw the flash of her eyes as she tackled him, her move taking them both to the floor. She stripped off his shirt with impatience, then ran her hands over his bare chest. She smiled as she ran a fingertip around the silhouette of his dragon tattoo and her touch left a line of cold fire.

  Her orgasm had shattered her shell, or maybe broken the ice that held her captive. Her gaze was on fire, her hair tousled, her lips red. Her cheeks were flushed and her hunger for his touch was undisguised. Hadrian had never seen anything or anyone as gloriously beautiful as his mate bent on seduction.

  He was hers for the taking.

  She surveyed him with satisfaction—as if she knew it—then bent and suckled his nipple, exactly as he had teased hers. She grazed it with her teeth when it was taut, making him burn for more. Hadrian was content to be at her mercy, savoring the sight of her as she turned her attention to the other nipple. Her hair had become loose and it fell around them like a golden curtain, or a net. Hadrain ran his hands through its silky length, content to be her catch.

  Her smile was mischievous as she unbuckled his belt and pushed down his jeans. Hadrian couldn’t resist the urge to lock his hands around her waist and draw her closer. He captured her lips with his and kissed her once again. White sparks flew as she closed her hand around his erection, and Hadrian found himself moaning as she tormented him with pleasure. She mimicked him perfectly, taking him almost to the summit then easing off, ensuring that desire made his heart thunder.

  When he knew he couldn’t hold back, he scooped her up and turned her around, settling her on top of him. She smiled as she walked her hands down his chest, then lowered herself over him. There was awe in her expression as she took the tip of him inside her and she moved so slowly that he thought anticipation might kill him. She was so hot and tight that Hadrian was barely able to take a breath. She moved with such deliberation, that the pleasure was exquisite.

  He wanted it to last forever.

  He knew he’d never manage that.

  She exhaled slowly when he was buried completely inside her, closing her eyes. He wondered then how long it had been since she’d been with a man—she had to have done it before, didn’t she? Then he caught a glimpse of her one hand moving quickly, away from his side. He wondered at that, then remembered.

  The
knife!

  Hadrian rolled his mate to her back in the other direction, ensuring that the knife was out of reach. He saw her gaze flick toward it.

  “Not yet,” he murmured as if he hadn’t noticed, rubbing against her so that she gasped.

  When they kissed, she stretched one hand toward the knife again. Hadrian moved so that he apparently struck it by accident, sending it dancing across the floor. He pretended not to notice either the knife or her quick inhalation. He heard the blade hit the far wall and knew she couldn’t reach it there.

  Clever and determined. He liked her more with every passing moment.

  He moved deeper inside her, catching her nape in his hand and kissed her again. The firestorm burned furiously, its light blindingly white, its power obliterating even his sense of danger.

  There was just his mate, wrapped tightly around him; his mate, kissing him back; his mate whispering incoherently with pleasure. Just when he thought he couldn’t bear any more, the firestorm increased his sense of union. Hadrian’s heart matched its pace to hers; his breathing came at the same rate as hers. He looked into her eyes and felt the most powerful connection he’d experienced in his life.

  He had to convince her to let him survive.

  They had to find another way to save her brothers. He knew it could be done.

  Her eyes widened in wonder, their gazes locked, and he was sure she felt the same potent force. She pulled him down and kissed him with sudden fervor, her silent demand taking them both higher and higher. He’d never felt anything more right and his heart thundered at the prospect of their future together.

  The firestorm burned and crackled, sending white sparks in every direction, making his blood boil, and he knew they’d come in unison. He thrust and rubbed against her, heard her gasp, felt her pulse leap...

  And then she was gone.

  Hadrian was alone, clutching at air.

  She’d vanished again.

  He rolled to his back and roared with frustration.