by Anne Renwick
“Thank you,” he said as she set aside the cup to tuck pillows beneath his head. “These cells, I swear they’ve invaded the entirety of my body.” He described the disturbing sensations coursing throughout him.
“We did inject them directly into a most highly perfused organ.” She mopped his forehead with a damp cloth, though her presence alone was calming. “But these stem cells do seem most potent and intent.”
“Something is happening,” he said. “It feels as if I’m being turned inside out.”
“I’m so sorry.” She clasped his hand to her chest, staring down at him with worry etched into every feature. “I’ve spoken with Aileen. Everything is settled, and I’ll not leave you again until this is over. Can you sleep?”
“Perhaps.” The corner of his mouth hitched upward. “If a beautiful woman were to lay by my side and run her fingers soothingly through my hair.”
Though she rolled her eyes, her fingers were already unbuckling the sword belt from her waist. With a clatter, the various items clipped to it fell to the ground. She dropped her sweet arse onto the mattress beside him and began to unlace her knee-high boots. Thunk. Thunk. She peeled away stockings, her scarf. And then she was climbing in beside him, though regrettably still dressed in trousers, tunic and corset.
When her soft curves finally rested against his side, and her arm draped over his waist, the various creatures that held his body in their grip were pacified, slowing—if not ceasing—their mad scramble to alter all they found amiss within him.
He closed his eyes, submitting to their repairs.
Luke’s heated skin smoldered through the layers of clothing she wore, but whenever she moved away, he would begin to groan and writhe in his sleep, a slumber so deep she could not rouse him. And so she stayed, committed to keeping her arms wrapped about a veritable furnace, unwilling to disturb—however slightly—his healing process.
Time passed in a haze as she drifted in and out of a light sleep, waking to blot Luke’s forehead, to hold yet another glass of water to his lips. He imbibed an impressive quantity of water as enzymatic cascades worked overtime, shredding away damaged tissues within his body before setting about the process of repairing and restructuring.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed her, and she fell into her own fevered dreams.
Dreams which became increasingly erotic until her eyes fluttered open. Not a dream.
Luke’s hard body was pressed against her backside, and though his erection made his interest evident, it was his fingers that moved, working magic wherever they touched.
Already, he’d tugged loose the drawstring of her chemise and managed to unbuckle the top two fasteners of her leather corset. Not that she minded. Not at all. The slow slide of his rough skin over her puckered nipple sent a rush of warmth between her legs.
“Mmm,” she hummed. She tipped her head backward against his shoulder and her braid tumbled free. Someone had been stealing hairpins while she slept. “Feeling better?”
“Much.” He nipped her earlobe, his hot breath brushing across the curve of her neck. “The wound to my arm, healed. All pain, gone. But I still feel as if a fire is burning inside. Whatever transformations your cells have wrought, they’ve left me ravenous.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers. “Any objection if I proceed to devour you?” His rough voice woke every last nerve.
“None,” she gasped out, feeling wanton. “Though I’d rather be claimed.” She twitched her hips backward to emphasize her point. “Fully. Completely.”
A growl of approval tore from his throat, and his hand tightened on her breast, his fingers pinching her nipple and ripping a cry of pleasure from her throat.
Buckle by buckle, her corset fell open beneath his fingers. Gathering the material of her chemise in his fist, he yanked it upward, then spread the surface of his palm across the expanse of her bare stomach. The heat of his touch and the cool rush of air sent shivers running over her skin.
All the while, his lips kissed, bit, and then soothed the skin of her neck just below her ear, fanning the flames of desire yet higher. She squirmed in his embrace—her hands falling upon forearms that seemed to have muscles of braided wire—desperate to pull away, if only to rip the clothing from her body. But he held her tight against his stiff cock, all while slowly slipping his hand beneath the waistband of her trousers.
His fingertips spread her slick folds, resuming their earlier exploration of all that brought her pleasure. His hand slid deeper, pushing a finger into her tight channel, working her gently, until her hips began to jerk against his hand and a delicious pressure threatened to crest.
“No.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. “Not this way. I want you inside me.” Buried deep while she reached for her pleasure.
Twisting, she stabbed her fingers into his thick hair, dragging his mouth to hers. Their tongues tangled, and she tasted the salt of his sweat and the heat of his desire. Fire licked over her skin.
He reared back. “Clothes. Off.”
Her braid tumbled loose as she rose up on her knees, shrugging off her corset and pulling her chemise over her head. Luke growled in appreciation, his hands yanking the soft wool of her trousers down her hips. Then he lifted his gaze to hers.
“Your eyes.” She clasped his face—rough with stubble—between her palms, staring. “They’re not brown anymore—not entirely. There are flecks of gold streaking through them. They all but glow.” Glorious.
Toppling her backward, he stripped away the last of her clothing, then loomed over her. “Has anything else changed?” He grinned as her gaze traveled over his naked glory.
“I hardly had the chance to look earlier,” she protested. But, aether, he was magnificent. Impossible not to run her hands over the hard planes and angles of his chest, his strong shoulders, his bulging arms. Strong. Healthy. Vibrant. “Before that, no matter how badly I wished to touch you so, I was a married woman.”
“Was.” He flipped onto his back, ridding himself of his own clothing.
She gasped. At the magnificent view, of course, but also at the scattering of scales beneath the edge of his rib cage where the needle had pierced his flesh. She dropped a fingertip to them, brushing their surface. “Can you feel that?”
“I can.” He glanced down, flexing the muscles of his abdomen. A delighted grin stretched his mouth. “What of my arm?”
Natalia unwound the bandage. Another clustering of scales traced an alluring path across his biceps. She leaned close, pressing soft kisses to them. Thank aether. The treatment had worked. Blinking back the tears that welled in her eyes, she lifted her gaze and stared into his blazing eyes. “Fully healed.” And more evenly matched for the fight that was to come. She pushed the thought aside. First, a celebration.
“An amazing recovery.” She sat up, her eyes drawn across the room to a lamp glowing upon the hearthside table. “Are you not the least bit—?” Hungry. But that word died on her lips. A tray rested there—one that must have been left outside the laboratory door—and it was empty, its contents devoured. “You ate everything?” It was clear she’d slept deeply, but how long?
Luke pulled her down on top of him. A rumbling laugh resonated in his chest. “Not everything.”
Soft breasts and hard nipples slid over his chest as Natalia shifted away, reaching for her pocket watch. Her thigh grazed his rampant erection as she landed on her stomach, sending his mind into a blazing swirl of need. He rolled onto his side and smoothed a hand over the rise of her arse, a desperate attempt to rein himself in while she noted the time. With a fingertip, he traced a path across the scales clustered at the base of her spine. Green, with a flash of red fire.
“Four o’clock!” She dropped the pocket watch and glanced over her shoulder. Light danced in her eyes. A coy smile tipped the corner of her lips upward. “Like what you see?”
Aether, was that an invitation? He’d planned to hold back, to bring her to
a climax before sinking into her sweet, wet sex. But this… Yes, this was what he wanted. To drive into her until she screamed his name.
Never before had he felt so alive, so strong. So filled with lust. But she was inexperienced… he shouldn’t…
And yet…
He rose up and pulled her onto her knees, bent her forward until she fell upon her hands. He caught at her loose braid, giving it a sharp tug before dragging his hand down her back, across the scattering of scales that glinted in the moonlight. He stilled. “Do you want it like this? From behind?” Rutting like animals? He held his breath. Did the beasts inside them both pant for this, for a primitive coupling, an explosive release? His cock throbbed.
But he waited.
She dropped to her elbows. “Yes.” Her voice was husky, her desire echoing his.
Still he held back. Nudging her knees apart, he slid a finger over her slick folds until she cried out, her voice a mixture of desperation and desire. His breath hitched with need. “Please.”
Steadying her hips with one hand, he guided the broad head of his cock to her damp entrance. And sank into her tight channel a single inch. Easing out, he pushed forward again.
“Oh, Luke,” she rasped. “Yes. More.” She edged her knees farther apart, and he sank deeper, his hips pressing flush to hers.
His fingers dug into the soft, pliant flesh of her hips as his body blazed with lust. Impossible not to move. He drew back, and with one thrust, drove into her completely, into her tight, squeezing channel. “Natalia!” His breath was ragged.
Squirming, she arched her back and cried out, panting, groaning feverish words of encouragement that raced across his skin and burned in his ears as he plunged into her again and again, claiming her body with long, hard strokes.
His climax gathered at the base of his spine, drawing ever tighter. Buried deep, he paused. “No,” he rasped, then slid free. He wanted to see her face, watch her eyes as they blazed with heat. For him.
“Luke!” A cry of frustration.
He pulled at her legs, dropping her onto her stomach, rolling her onto her back. Catching her mouth with his, he kissed her deeply.
She bit his lip, then wrenched her mouth away. “I need…”
Spreading her legs, she yanked him against her swollen center, and he slid inside. Her legs lifted, her ankles wrapped about his hips pulling him closer. Nails dug into the skin of his arse, and her pelvis tipped upward, encouraging his powerful, pistoning strokes.
He levered up onto his arms, shifting to thrust higher against her center. “Come!” he ordered.
Her sex clenched, clamping down on him. “Luke!” Her blue eyes blazed as she screamed his name.
Primitive satisfaction rushed through him, and he strained against her, grinding as he chased his own climax. With a roar, he drove into her with a final stroke and the world about him exploded. Lights flashed. Blood pounded. Air rushed from his chest. And his body collapsed. Just enough sense remained for him to tilt to the side, twisting as his shoulders hit the mattress. But he didn’t let go. She came with him—hot, sweaty and limp—and landed upon his chest.
“Aether,” he breathed, finally dragging enough oxygen into his lungs. He wrapped his arms tight about her.
“Magnificent.” She dropped a tired head to his shoulder—her blonde braid a ragged tangle—and slipped a weary arm about his waist. “And still a few hours until dawn.”
“Again?” A laugh rumbled in his chest, but already his cock twitched with interest.
With a fading voice, she whispered, “Soon.” And drifted to sleep, snoring softly.
Luke stared at the bed canopy that arched above him. Health restored. Wrapped in the arms of the woman he loved. Safe. Everything he wanted within reach.
If he could but remove the one last remaining threat. Running would buy them time, but it wouldn’t solve their problems, not permanently.
Ivanov and Kravchuk would have to be eliminated.
A murmur of muffled voices woke her. “Luke,” she said, reaching out an arm. “We need to dress.” But no one was there. The mattress beside her was cool.
Natalia snapped her eyes open and sat upright, clutching the sheet to her bare breasts as Luke—fully dressed—strolled back into the bedchamber, carrying a new tray laden with a teapot, cups and an abundance of baked treats. He moved with ease, without a hint of exhaustion or pain.
Not a dream. They’d done it. He was cured. Possibilities stretched before them, if only they could outrun, out-fight Ivanov and Kravchuk and their winged mounts. Excitement faded as a heaviness settled in her stomach. Another battle loomed, and she was so very tired of fighting. Of running. She wanted more time with Luke alone—here and now—but their best chance of surviving a confrontation with Dimitri and Ivanov was to draw them out unexpectedly, in daylight, when their pteryformes’ vision was—at the very least—compromised.
Zia trundled along behind Luke, her tail swishing. Routine had been disrupted—on many levels—and she was keeping the newest human to enter the equation carefully in her line of sight.
Slivers of brilliant gold flashed in his eyes. “I wondered when you’d wake.” He set down the tray and nodded at the window. A faint glimmer of light spilled through its thick glass. “The steam wagon is loaded. William, Aileen and McKay are shuttering windows and making last minute preparations. Our boat awaits, ready, save for its passengers. I took the liberty of coating a quiver’s worth of arrows with your laboratory-refined venom to pair with your deadly aim and crossbow.” He stopped beside the bed, his gaze caressing her exposed skin. Every nerve stood at attention, begging for more time. “About last night…”
She dropped the sheet. Grabbing his waistcoat with both hands, she pulled him down on top of her and kissed him, deeply, regretting every moment lost to slumber. The sword fastened to his hip pressed against her thigh as his hands fell upon her waist, sliding upward over her rib cage to cup the weight of her breasts.
But they were out of time.
Though he pulled away, a suggestive smile teased his lips, and an appreciative gaze slid over her nakedness, their thoughts both straying in the same carnal direction.
“Last night was amazing,” she whispered, though words alone failed to convey how her world had tilted off axis, redefining and expanding the concept of bedroom sport. She needed this man in her life. Always and forever. No other would do.
Luke’s expression sobered. “About last night, we forgot to…” He swallowed. “If there are consequences—”
Her lips parted in shock. Not horror. Any children of Luke’s would be welcome, but she’d not wish to forcibly bind him to her that way. “We were careless.”
“Swept up in the moment as we were, the fault lies with us both.” He tipped up her chin. “If you conceive, we’ll marry?”
Not at all the impassioned proposal a woman desired, but would she turn him away? Not a chance. She loved him. Tired of living a life apart, she had no use for an empty title or a drafty castle. But after her first cold, practical marriage, she wanted more than an offer of marriage that followed on the heels of a “mistake”.
“This isn’t the time for such a discussion.” Natalia slid from the bed, pulling on her clothes, shoving her feet into her boots and lacing them tightly. She buckled her belt about her waist and slid daggers into place. “No.” She held up a hand when he would press the matter. “We must focus, lest we not survive the day or, worse, find ourselves transported back to Russia.”
His hand fell on the hilt of his rapier, and determination hardened his face. “Not a chance I’ll allow that to happen.”
She had no doubt he would do his best to prevent such an occurrence. But there was another weakness. “My father’s notes.” How she wished he could have met Luke, witnessed this triumph, recognized the potency of uncultured dragon stem cells. Lifting them from the table, she caught Luke’s gaze, then turned to t
he fireplace. The yellowed pages were her last physical connection to her father. Her chest ached at the thought of destroying them, but she couldn’t risk them falling into the wrong hands.
“Natalia, are you certain?” Worry filled his eyes. “This cure has been nothing short of miraculous.”
“But in the wrong hands, the outcome could be monstrous. Cells harvested from a dragon’s egg, from the developing embryo itself, might be even more potent. Conservation of a species will not even land on their list of priorities.” She swallowed. “The process is fresh in my mind. Perhaps, when this is over, I’ll put pen to paper.” Perhaps.
She brushed aside a stray tear. Decision reached, she tossed the folded sheets of paper onto the smoldering coals, and watched as their edges sparked, caught fire, and disintegrated into ash.
Chapter Twelve
White-faced but resolute, Aileen climbed into the steam wagon beside her grandfather. The vehicle chuffed and puffed as pistons churned inside their cylinders, ready to propel them down the rutted road. William held the steering pole, his face bright with excitement, no doubt relishing the potential for danger, for a sword fight, for a new life in the city.
“Do not,” Natalia warned for what must be the twenty-third time, “under any circumstances, skirmish with Ivanov or Kravchuk. Keep your charges well in mind. You must reach Edinburgh safely.”
“I’ve already given you my word.” William pulled his wiry shoulders back and puffed out his narrow chest. “Repeatedly. We’ll reach your Edinburgh townhouse. The Russians have no interest in me, and,” he glanced at Aileen, “nothing but disdain for that which they ought to value.” He squinted at the horizon where the bright sun crept into a cloudless sky. A rare, spring event in Scotland. “Best take advantage of the light.”
Pteryformes were, by nature, nocturnal. Not that they couldn’t be roused and coaxed—with the promise of fresh meat—to fly during daylight. A highly likely and unfortunate possibility. With a final nod and a sharp tug at the steering pole, William set the steam wagon in motion.
