by Alisa Woods
He told her. He’d cracked open his chest and showed her everything broken and wrong about him, every reason she should run in the opposite direction, and she’d run across a steep mountain ledge to throw her arms around him. To comfort him, for fuck’s sake.
There was no more deadly strike she could have made directly to his heart.
He would take her back to his lair… and then he would send her packing. He could barely talk about what had happened to Cara. It had been years—decades, really—and the words coming out of his mouth had brought it all back. The darkness that threatened to take him down. The inescapable pain. There was no possible way he could go through all of it again.
He might love Arabella, but that was precisely why he couldn’t keep her.
He simply couldn’t afford to love someone again… and lose them.
He might as well turn wyvern; the result would be the same.
As they approached the keep, he signaled the rooftop entrance to his lair to open. He landed, let her slide from his back, then turned away and strode purposefully toward the door.
“Lucian!” Her footsteps were light and fast behind him.
He threw open the door and pounded down the stairs, but what the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t run from her. Even now, her scent was still on him from the ride, the feel of her legs wrapped around him still heating his body. He reached the bottom of the stairs and slowed to let her catch him. When he turned to face her, the words were already in his mouth.
You have to leave.
But before he could say anything, she was on him—delicate hands in his hair, sweet lips crushing his, the entire softness of her body melting into him. Without thinking, he spun her and pressed her into the wall, devouring her with his mouth and his hands and his body soaking up every sweet touch she offered. He needed this forgiveness—this unhesitating understanding—like he needed air to breathe. He pulled it from her lips and her hot mouth and her warm skin where he’d shoved up her shirt to reach it.
She made a small catching sound in her throat, and it ripped fear through him—it sounded too much like pain.
He jerked back, eyes wide at how quickly he’d lost himself in her.
“No, it’s okay!” she said, but she was holding her side.
Fuck. She was still sliced up from that unholy beast, Tytus.
“Arabella.” Pain rippled through him as he reached for her. “Beloved, I’m sorry. So sorry. Let me…” But he let his hands finish for him, lifting the gauzy shirt away from her wounds, still sticky with blood, and dropping to one knee in front of her. The gashes weren’t wide—talons were nothing if not razor-sharp—but they were deep and long and nothing that belonged on the sweet beauty of her body. He kissed her wounds, running his tongue gently along them, using the healing properties of his saliva on one terrible red line while using his hands on two others. He summoned his runes to perform a simple healing spell to speed the process and leave no scars on her beautiful skin. He had her up against the wall again, her head tipped back, small breathy moans coming from her mouth as he worked his way around all the gashes on her body. He licked and kissed and palmed her sweet flesh, healing every nick and gouge. It was a slow, erotic dance of healing and relief and pleasure until her skin was perfectly smooth and tantalizing again. When he was done, the gauzy, bloody shirt was on the floor, with her shredded pants beside it. Her nipples were taut and pointed, and her arousal perfumed the air.
He’d never been so hard in his life.
Sliding his hands and tongue up her body, he finished with the hairline cut on her cheek. Then he came face to face with her. “Did I get everything?” His voice was so rough with lust, he could barely speak.
“Almost.” Then her green eyes blazed, and she took his hand and slid it between her legs.
He groaned, slipping his fingers against her sex, already so wet. “Tell me you’re all right,” he panted into her mouth. “Did I heal all your wounds?” But his hand was moving to deepen his touch. He couldn’t help himself.
Her hands were clawing at his shirt, trying to pull it from his body. “I won’t be all right until you’re inside me.”
He moaned, and a shudder of lust rocketed through his body. He should stop this. He should send her away. But he was lost in the sweet mercy of having her back in his arms, safe and whole, hot and squirming against him. Raw in her need… and his.
“Fuck.” He magicked away his clothes, instantly naked against her sweet, sweet skin. He had to have her. Just one more time. Just once. He was beyond even trying to justify it. The need for her was simply too great.
She gasped as he pulled his hand from her sex. Then he gripped her bare bottom and lifted her, bracing her against the wall, legs spread and wrapping around his waist. His cock was aching for her, so he wasted no time, thrusting deep inside, burying himself to the hilt. She cried out and clutched at him. He moaned into her neck, holding her soft and warm, impaled deep on him for a sweet, golden moment. Then he gripped her bottom harder and pulled back to thrust in again. The hot wetness of her was so damn tight, every thrust was like taking her for the first time. Her whimpers of pleasure were driving his aching need higher. He slammed into her, bracing her against the wall, holding himself back from his full strength, but dammit, she felt so good. Sweetness and light and everything right in the world, all wrapped up in her feminine scent and luscious body around his cock. He pounded and pounded, but he was already rocketing toward his finish.
He panted in her ear, “Come for me, my love.” Both a whisper and a plea, a demand and a command. The words seemed to shove her over the edge. She shrieked as he kept pounding, and he felt the convulsions of her climax all around him, hot and sensual, drawing him right to the edge. His own cry was full of wonder and blinding pleasure as he came inside her, violent and sudden and full of hot spilling need. For her. For everything she was. For everything that had been missing and torn from his life—his soul—since that night so long ago.
When he was spent, he collapsed into her, pressing her firmly against the wall, every muscle draining tension as the last of his seed ebbed inside her. He whispered her name, over and over, into her ear, her neck, her hair, every sweet spot he could bury his face.
He wanted to stretch this moment. He wanted it seared into his memory. Every sweet pant and whispered touch and aching relief. He loved this woman more than his own life. And he would give them both up before he let a single thing in this world ever hurt her again.
Including himself.
If any shadows of doubt lurked in the corners of Arabella’s mind… they were now gone.
Banished in a mind-blowing orgasm. An erotic healing of her wounds, both internal and external. And that confession Lucian made of the darkness that haunted him. All of it pulled her like the sun pulls the earth—inexorable and powerful and searing.
She loved this man in a way she’d never felt before.
This was the True Love he had been talking about. It had to be. She couldn’t think of any more truthful love than knowing the most horrible thing that had happened to someone and loving them more because of it. And now she understood why he needed a mate with a love that was True—because that kind of love had power. She didn’t know if it could move mountains in the magical world—or the dragon equivalent, successfully spawning a dragonling—but in the human world… in her world… it was everything her heart had ever wanted.
Lucian was still inside her when she decided she had to tell him.
Even if they maybe took it slow for a while, didn’t rush into anything, he should know now while she was feeling it. While this emotion was burning bright as the sun inside her.
She wanted to take this leap. With him.
He eased back from pressing her against the wall and slowly, slowly pulled out of her body. He groaned as he left, and that was how she felt it, too—the disconnection left her empty and wanting him again. Immediately. And for always.
He kissed her softly on the lips and the ch
eeks, his hands bunching up her hair just to run his fingers through it as it fell loose again. “So beautiful,” he whispered.
“Lucian.” She skimmed her hands up to hold his face.
“Shhh…” He playfully rubbed noses with her and then kissed her there. It was so sweet, it rendered her speechless more than his shushing. “You don’t need to say anything. I know.”
He did? Her heart leaped, and she leaned back, trying to catch his eye. But he was busy peppering her with kisses—kisses that turned into small tastes and nips—and she thought for a moment that he might be wanting more already. It wasn’t unheard of. The one twenty-four-hour stretch when they had made endless love, he would come back for more only moments later, recharging like no human ever could.
But then he pulled in a deep breath—scenting her, she was sure of it—and he pulled back, finally looking her in the eyes.
“I want you,” she blurted out, then internally cringed. That was not how she wanted to say this.
He just smiled, slow and lazy. “You just had me.”
“I want more.” But this time, she managed to put seriousness into her voice, not bumbling.
A tiny frown creased his forehead. “More.” His tone said he knew she wasn’t talking about sex.
“I want to try at least. To see if it will work—” But she stopped as his eyelids dropped to half mast, a sudden look of pain dulling the glow in his face.
He stepped back, leaving her naked against the wall. His expression went blank as he waved a hand at her. Clothes magically appeared on her body, and his as well.
“No,” he said.
That one word blasted through her, chilling her body ten degrees. “What do you mean, no?”
“No, I will not take you for a mate.” His expression darkened, and he took another step back. Then another. Until he reached the other side of the hall and could go no further.
“But you’ll… you’ll die if you don’t take a mate.” She was suddenly tearing up and awkward in the silk blouse and tailored pants he had conjured for her, covering up her nakedness like he was done with her now and would simply send her on her way.
Torment flashed across his face, he dropped his gaze, and for a moment, she thought he might be reconsidering… but when he looked up, his expression was ice-cold. “I lied to you about a great many things, Arabella.”
What? “I… I know about…” She was flailing, suddenly lost in a sea of emotional turmoil. What was he doing?
“I needed a mate to fulfill my royal obligations.” His voice was so cold. “A treaty between the fae courts is the only thing that keeps your world and mine separate. Mortal and immortal. As long as a Dragon Prince lives in the House of Smoke, a direct lineage from my great-great-fae grandmother, the Queen of the Summer Court, then there is peace in the realms.” He lifted his chin and gave her an even colder, piercing stare. “For this, I require a mate who loves me and is capable of producing a dragonling. I seduced you with the intent of using you for this purpose. I thought you would be strong enough to survive the procedure. But it’s clear to me now that you are not suitable mate material.” A small muscle in his cheek twitched as he gritted his teeth. He was breathing through them.
“Why…” Her tears were brimming, ready to crest. “Why are you doing this?” She didn’t understand. Why was he saying all this, throwing these words at her like they were daggers?
The gold flashed in his eyes. “Because I am done seducing you.”
Her heart squeezed. She couldn’t get a breath. “You said you would die...”
“I lied, Arabella.” His eyes flashed gold again. His voice rose. “All of it was lies. All of it. Straight through from the beginning.”
She braced her hand against the wall, her chest so tight she could barely speak. “All of it.”
“Yes, it was all nothing but lies.” His lips twisted into bitterness. “Now leave before I—”
Hope surged in her heart. “Before you what?” she asked, eyes wide.
He didn’t answer, just glared at her, anger clouding his face.
She flailed for something, some reason she couldn’t leave. Not right now. Not immediately walking out the door. How could that even be possible? He’d been making love to her moments before, pressing her up against the wall… “If I leave, I might tell people about you. About dragons and fae and… and… your treaty.” As threats went, that was all she had. It seemed so empty and cold, but they were throwing ice daggers at one another, and she had nothing else.
The anger cooled into a hard look, like lava solidifying into volcanic rock. “Go on. Do it. No one will believe you, and they’ll never find us, regardless. Don’t you see, Arabella? That was just one more lie I told you to keep you here. One more manipulation to make you fall in love with me. I never needed to love you. I only needed you to love me.”
The floor seemed to sway under her feet. “But I did.” The tears crested and fell, a hot mockery of her feelings spilling out for him.
“I’ll have Cinaed bring a car to the elevator.” The cold tone of his voice shattered what was left of her heart. “You know your way out.” Then he turned his back on her and strode down the hall to his bedroom. The door opened with a flick of his finger and then closed behind him.
He was gone.
Or rather, she was gone. Evicted. Fucked in the hallway, one last time, then sent on her way with her heart in her hands, smashed into a thousand pieces.
The dull shuffle of her feet on the carpet was the only sound she could hear. It haunted her down the hall. The clang of the metal spiral staircase rang out her departure. More shuffling, then the front door. She paused there, looking back at the apartment. There was nothing of hers here, not even her phone.
It was all nothing but lies.
She managed to reach the elevator before the first sob hit. She missed the car the first time and had to call it again. By the time it returned, her anger was fighting through the dull haze of pain. She swiped at her tears and punched the “G” button for the garage.
As the elevator carried her down, her anger just grew. Who the hell did Lucian Smoke think he was? A prince among dragons? He was just a rat-bastard like every other man who had lied to her and bullied her and manipulated her. Every single one of them had used her for their own sick purposes and then abused her when it was convenient to do so. When she no longer fit inside the tiny box they had constructed for her to live in.
The elevator dinged. She stormed out as soon as the doors opened.
Cinaed was already waiting by the car, shoulders hunched, peering at her like he felt guilty for doing his prince’s dirty work in hauling away the little human trash, now that the prince was done with her. Lucian had been trying to seduce her all along? Well, he succeeded wildly in that! She fell right for it, like the fool she was for rat-bastard men of all species. And what was this bullshit about a treaty? More lies? And then, topping it off with some fucking abuse, he tells her she’s not good enough to be his mate?
Well, fuck him!
She reached the stretch limo with Cinaed standing by the passenger door. “Fuck Lucian Smoke!” she screeched, jabbing a finger at him.
He winced. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Don’t yes, Ma’am me, you asshole! You were part of this!” She didn’t know why she was raging at Cinaed… except he had to know she was being played. Every dragon in the keep had to know it.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Cinaed held the door for her.
She stared at the inside of the car, but her body wouldn’t move. Instead, she yelled some more at Cinaed. “And another thing! Stay the hell away from my friend, Rachel! I don’t want any of your dragonkind coming around and ruining her life.”
“No, Ma’am.” He looked terrified like he was trapped in a cage with a monster.
“Rachel’s had all kinds of men treat her like trash. Like absolute filth. Like she wasn’t even a human being.” She was crying and yelling and fucking losing her mind. All on Cinaed, who probably did
n’t deserve it, but then again, maybe he did. She spooled up again. “And whatever you do, do not fuck her right before telling her she’s the last thing you would ever want in a mate! That’s just fucking messed up and cruel.”
Cinaed cringed and stood helplessly next to the door.
Her breath heaved in and out of her chest, and she still couldn’t get in the fucking car. Her body just absolutely refused to move. And slowly she realized… it was because her body remembered Lucian pressing her up against a wall, but he wasn’t fucking her.
He was making love to her.
His words could lie to her. His haughty looks and tone could tell her more lies. But his body… his body wasn’t lying when it made love to her.
I needed a mate to fulfill my royal obligations.
But it didn’t have to be her. Why bother to rescue her from the super-powerful fae only to spurn her and send her away? If she wasn’t mate material, why not let Zephan keep her? Why not hurl her off a cliff and let her body be lost forever?
Why make love to her one last time?
She stared at the darkened interior of the limo. “He loves me,” she said, speaking out loud to the emptiness of the car. The words came out before she even grasped them in her mind. She slowly turned to face Cinaed.
His eyes were wide.
“He loves me. That’s why he’s sending me away.” It made perfect sense. Perfect, terrible sense.
Cinaed’s face pinched in. “My prince bears the fate of the world on his shoulders.” His voice was hushed and choked. “He endures things that would break most men.”
And that was it. That was truth. She could feel it ringing deep inside her.
“Where is he, Cinaed?”
“My lady?” he asked, bewilderment taking over his expression.
“Where does Lucian go when he’s hurt? Angry. When he’s filled with rage and needs to vent.”
His brows furrowed. “I’m supposed to take you home.”
“Where, Cinaed!”
He swallowed, glanced at the still-open door to the passenger side, and finally said, “His private pool—”
