by Abigail Owen
He moved, resuming that slide, pumping in and out of her body with increasing speed, every sound from her driving him faster, higher. He waited, held off his own pleasure until her body gathered, tightening around his cock like a fist. With the first spasm, Kasia’s body bowed off the bed, though she didn’t release her grip on the headboard. She screamed his name as he pounded into her, pulsing around his cock as waves of ecstasy crashed over her.
Her orgasm pulled him down like an undertow. A tingle gathered at the base of his spine, then burst through his balls and out of his dick in hot spurts, pulsing in time with her body as she milked every ounce of pleasure his body had to give.
Spent and wrung out, Brand crawled up beside Kasia and did something he’d never done with another woman—he pulled her into his arms, holding her close, skin against skin. Strange, because usually Brand was eager to get whatever woman he was fucking out of his bed and out of his room as fast as he could.
He should be freaking the hell out and putting a stop to this right now, but he was too replete, too content as he lay there catching his breath. Too reluctant to re-erect those walls quite yet.
Kasia, unlike some of his past partners, didn’t immediately start into inane chatter or uncomfortable questions. She snuggled into him, awake based on the sound of her heartbeat, but seemingly satisfied to simply lie together in a harmonious silence.
A balm to his soul.
Eventually, she gave a little sigh. “Tell me about Hershel?”
Not the question he was expecting after mind-blowing, off-limits, forbidden fucking.
“Are you asleep?” she prompted.
“What do you want to know?” he mumbled.
A small sigh. “He’s not human, is he?”
Brand tensed, shock pinging around inside him. Kasia was way too perceptive. “Not my place to share his secrets.”
At that, she turned in his arms, not to back away but to face him. Her gaze sparkled with humor. “You two are made of the same mold, that’s for sure.”
Brand angled his head in silent question.
She reached out to push his hair out of his eyes. “He said the same thing when I asked him about you.”
She’d been asking questions? Like what?
“I asked him how you two knew each other,” she answered before he even asked.
Was the woman a mind reader now?
“I could see the thought bubble over your head,” she teased.
“Huh.” Apparently both his will and his poker face had deserted him. “I met Hershel when I was young. He gave me a place to stay when I felt like it; in exchange I did odd jobs for him.”
She considered that. “Like the kind of jobs you do for…dragons?”
Brand was glad she hadn’t brought Ladon’s name into the bed with them. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge that reality. Not while her skin was against his.
“Not at first. To start with, I helped him around the house.”
She tucked an arm under her head. “That must’ve been an interesting way to grow up.”
“The club is a relatively new element in his life, but yeah, he’s always surrounded himself with what he calls the people who get shit done.”
Kasia was silent a moment. In another highly distracting move, she traced her finger over the tattoo that ran the length of his right arm. “He must have something to hide if he needs to be surrounded by people like that,” she finally commented.
Again, shock ricocheted through him at her level of perception. “What makes you say that?”
She hitched a slim shoulder, her breast moving against his chest in the most enticing way possible, yet another distraction. “We did the same thing.”
Something about her words snagged his attention, and Brand managed to forget the naked body pressed against him for a split second. “We?”
…
Dammit. She’d almost given away her biggest secret of all.
“My mother and I,” she blurted out, hoping he hadn’t noticed her hesitation.
Two mind-blowing orgasms, better than anything she’d fantasized, and she was ready to spill her most precious secrets without a thought. But his unexpected revelation—she’d bet all the dragons’ wealth that Hershel had basically raised Brand—had shaken her.
She had so many questions.
Oh, hell. When had she gotten invested in who Brand was as a person? Sleeping with him had started out as a bad idea, one she’d been fighting since the moment he appeared in her room at the clinic in Cheyenne, but now the consequences were steering toward the realm of dangerous.
“What things did you and your mother do?” he asked.
Kasia released a silent breath of relief. He hadn’t caught her slip about her sisters. Thank the gods. “Well…my first memories growing up involve a band of gypsies in Europe.”
“Gypsies.”
“Yeah. Although they didn’t call themselves gypsies. In fact, many consider that a derogatory term.” She caught his expression—which landed somewhere between suspicion and curiosity. “What? You got a problem with that?”
“No. I’m just trying to picture you living with the Roma people.”
She sniggered. “If you like that, try this on for size. We spent a few decades with an indigenous tribe.”
“Which tribe?”
“Cherokee.”
“With that hair and those eyes?”
She shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to standing out.”
“I’ll say. Were you captured?”
“No.” She gave a fond smile at the memories of the close friendships with the other girls her age, tending the crops, helping with the younger children. “They made us part of the tribe.”
“Through marriage?”
She shook her head. “Cherokee often accepted outsiders into their tribes after a period. But we had an advantage.”
She paused, debating if she should tell him. Brand picked up a tendril of hair that lay over her shoulder and ran his fingers over it. “What advantage?”
In for a penny… “My mother did a little brainwashing, one of her minor skills as a phoenix. Each group of humans we lived with thought we’d been part of their clan, tribe, commune, or community all along.”
That ability also handled many questions about their aging, a slow process as compared with humans. Although they usually left before those questions were raised.
“So that’s how you hid from the dragons? Living with humans?”
“Sometimes. We also spent a lot of time in solitude, something I get the feeling you’re quite familiar with.”
When all she got was a noncommittal “hmm,” Kasia figured they’d had enough of the serious talk. This was supposed to be about sex, not a relationship. So she switched her focus to his arm, tracing the tattoo. “I wondered what the upper half looked like.”
The pine trees below, which wrapped around his wrist and forearm, were towered over by mountains with caves high above the ground, etched into the skin of his shoulder. And in the skies, flying from the mouths of the caves…dragons. Even in their small form in the artwork, she could feel the thrill, the exhilaration of flying, and the camaraderie of being together in the air in their animal forms. On the opposite shoulder stood a lone dragon perched on a rock, not flying like the others, wings outstretched as if to flag them down. No other tattoos graced that arm.
Given what she’d guessed about Brand being on his own a lot, her heart cracked at the sight of the dragon on the rock. Alone, abandoned, and so desperate to be…what? Found? Accepted?
Or was she spinning fanciful tales about his tattoo? Knowing a little something about being by herself, perhaps she was projecting her own experiences onto him. But she didn’t think so. The artwork was part of Brand’s soul, maybe the only part he’d ever let anyone see.
“Taking me to the Bl
ue Clan…will it let you join them?” she asked.
She fully expected him to stiffen up or not answer. Instead, he surprised her by tucking an arm behind his head. “That’s part of it. I haven’t belonged to a clan since I was ten.”
So young. Her heart ached for the boy he’d been.
“And a phoenix is your ticket in,” she murmured. Unable, and a little unwilling, to put into words the emotions it stirred in her, she went up on one elbow and kissed that dragon on the rock.
Then she leaned back to find him watching her with guarded eyes, a wariness in those unique golden depths that added to that crack in her heart. Damn, she needed to put an emergency brake on these runaway thoughts. Sex and safety, that’s all she could and should expect from Brand.
“What was that for?” he asked.
Instinct told her to play it casual, so she gave her best offhand smile. At least, she hoped it appeared offhand. “I like your tattoo.”
He searched her gaze for a moment, and she stared steadily back.
“Thanks,” he finally said. More like grunted.
Wanting to take away the wariness and the walls, she trailed her hand down his arm, over the ridges of his stomach, to the trail of hair leading to the promised land.
He caught her by the wrist. “What are you doing?”
She glanced up from under her lashes, hoping her attempt at femme fatale wasn’t coming off vampy or silly. Either would be mortifying. “I should think that’s obvious.”
“We can’t—”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Given that we’re naked and snuggling after we just did…”
“That was a bad idea.”
She tried not to let those words add more cracks to the walls of her heart. “I know.”
That gave him pause. “You do?”
“Yes.” She flopped onto her back and didn’t bother to pull up the sheet when it dropped to her waist, exposing her breasts. The way he stared at her body was too mouthwatering to cover back up. “Getting physically involved is a horrible idea.”
He didn’t—or couldn’t, she hoped—pull his gaze from her body. “Yeah…a horrible idea.”
“And we should stop. Stick to the plan.”
That seemed to sink in. He dragged his gaze up to her eyes. “You still want to stick to the plan?”
No.
Yes.
Who the hell knew what the best course of action was?
“As you pointed out, it’s the best option available to me.” Damn, it sucked to be levelheaded. “But…”
“But?”
“We already opened this can of worms, or let this cat out of the bag, or whatever. So maybe…just for tonight?”
She deliberately trailed her hand up over her ribs to squeeze one of her breasts, pinching the nipple between her fingers.
A fire ignited in his eyes, and she felt the heat of his gaze fixated on her like a warm caress. The air in her lungs deserted her with a whoosh. He pushed away her hand to replace it with his own, and an answering tingle bloomed between her legs as he stoked the heat which hadn’t completely dissipated after rounds one and two.
He glanced up at her, though his hand continued its hypnotic movements. “Tomorrow…”
“Back to reality,” she agreed. “But for tonight…”
He leaned over and pulled her throbbing nipple into his warm, wet mouth. “Mmhmm?” he hummed his question against her.
Kasia tried to breathe, and think, and answer him. “I’ve had enough pain to last a lifetime, thanks to my visions. Maybe you can give me more pleasure?”
He grinned that lopsided, sort of adorable, sort of arrogant smile she might always associate with Brand. “I think I can help with that.”
IX
Ladon was awake long before daylight broke over the mountain, so the ringing of his cell phone interrupted only a workout.
Sleep never reached any deep levels for him, anyway. Not since he’d overthrown Thanatos, the previous King of the Blue Dragon Clan, and claimed the crown, at least. These days he slept with one eye open—not the bad one—waiting for the assassination he knew had to be coming. He’d also gotten in the habit of giving up on sleep around the crack of dawn every morning, choosing instead to put his body through rigorous physical training in solitude.
Every day he observed his warriors for their daily rounds of training, skill assessments, and combat practice, followed by their assignments. However, he didn’t do more than observe. He had Asher, his Beta, to run that, and preferred to keep his own abilities to himself.
Secrets got his ass onto the throne. Secrets would keep him there.
Chest heaving, he paused in his methodical and yes, brutal—he’d earned that reputation for a reason—work on the heavy punching bag that hung from the cavern ceiling in his suite.
A person calling this early could be bothering him for only two reasons: bad news or information that needed immediate action. Rarely did the second reason fall under the realm of good news. But that couldn’t be helped. He was waging a one-king war on the five other clans, and losing ground daily. The White, Gold, Green, and Black Clans were each ruled by an old king, one who’d gained power thanks to the Red King, Pytheios, and owed him their allegiance. None would relinquish his throne or his ways unless his cold dead fingers were pried loose from the crown.
Fine by Ladon.
He stalked over to his bedside table where his phone sat and checked the screen. He raised his eyebrows at the number displayed. New information.
He picked it up. “Yes?”
“Your rogue found her,” came a familiar nasal voice.
Ladon didn’t even blink. So he hadn’t been wrong about Brand’s cryptic call a few days ago. His friend wouldn’t have asked for that meeting if he didn’t have her. “Where are they?”
“Unknown. They escaped a small pack of wolf shifters in France. Twice.”
Shit. That meant her existence was known beyond the dragon community. Dragons were already a major concern—if any of the other clans found her first, he’d be screwed—but wolf shifters and gods knew what else threw an extra layer of complication into the mix. At least Brand had made it across the ocean.
“Headed a specific direction?” he asked, though he already suspected.
“My guess is they’re coming to you.”
Good, but Brand would need help. What he protected was too important to risk losing.
Ladon waited for the quid pro quo he knew was coming. His informant, a man established deep inside Pytheios’s organization, had come to him a decade ago—a relationship that benefited them both and had been a direct influence on Ladon’s ascension to the throne.
When the typical request wasn’t immediately forthcoming, Ladon shifted his phone to his other ear and checked his watch. “What do you want?”
“Your rogue.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” The ice in his voice would give even his most hardened warriors pause, but not the man on the other end of the line.
“Pytheios is aware of her existence.”
“And the wolves trailing her?” Ladon asked.
“Them as well. He had someone following them to try to track her, but the wolves have returned to their home.”
“And my rogue? Does Pytheios know about him?” Brand had stayed under the radar of the other kings up to this point. The mercenary would be pissed if he were found out.
“Not yet, but it won’t be long before that information reaches him.”
“Thanks to you, I’ve no doubt.”
A small pause followed the accusation. “If you want to continue to receive the type of information I provide to you, I need to retain my…usefulness…to the king I serve.”
“And you think you can do that by sacrificing one of my best resources?” He chose his wording with deliberate care.
>
Dammit. Was he considering handing over one of the few men he trusted?
As king, he found he had to make these kinds of choices way too fucking often. He’d never been raised to rule, though he had a few drops of royal blood in his lineage. He’d taken this clan because he had to. A fighter at heart, not much more than a thug, the longer Ladon ruled, the more he despised the politics of the position—the constant give and take, particularly the giving up of things important to him personally.
For centuries he’d scraped to survive the lean years Thanatos had put the blue dragons through, suffering alongside his people while the wealth of the Blue Clan had been plundered, dwindling until they could hardly feed their own people, and their numbers had dwindled as more mates went to other clans.
He loathed the old kings, had even taken great pleasure in ripping Thanatos’s guts out of his body. Not even a blip of regret to drag at him over that act.
The man at the end of the phone line gave a small hum, as if considering Ladon’s question. “I think giving up the person who is bringing you the best lucky charm a king could have is a small price to pay to continue to receive information valuable to your crown.”
Ladon gazed up at the ceiling, holding onto his irritation with effort. “To save your ass, I can see how you would think so.”
“He’s a rogue, and not of your clan. That makes him disposable. Now is not the time to go soft.”
“There’s soft, and then there’s the matter of leadership and loyalty.”
A small chuckle reached him. “Not something that used to concern you.”
The thick scar that slashed through Ladon’s left eye started to twitch, a sure sign of his fury. Guilt was not his problem with his past. He’d done what he had to. “I wasn’t king then.”
“And kings must make difficult choices for the greater good.”
A reality Ladon was fast learning to resent. “This is one choice I won’t rush.”
Long pause. “I understand.”
So did Ladon. If he didn’t produce Brand for his informant, he’d lose his inside information that was critical to the war he was engaged in. He was gearing up to bring the fight directly to Pytheios’s door—correction, to a back door in the Alps, a location that had belonged to the Blue Clan until recently. Time to take it back.
