by Anya Nowlan
She hadn’t expected to feel that way. Sure, he was a rampant asshole, and she’d never in a million years consider actually marrying him, holding hope to the very end that she could make him see reason, but there was something about him that made all her senses stand up and take notice. Maybe it was the way he carried himself or how he was so insurmountably sure of everything he did, but Gemma would have been lying if she’d said that there hadn’t been a very big part of her trying to convince her to stay.
But she couldn’t, could she?
No woman in her right mind would sit around waiting to be married off to some self-admiring jerk of a dragon if she could help it, right? These weren’t the middle ages anymore when a dragon could swoop down from the mountains, claim a virgin and live happily ever after with her. First of all, she was no virgin.
Secondly, she wasn’t big on being claimed. If a man wanted to be with her, it had to be something she wanted just as badly, and though her body was definitely screaming yes to the idea of sticking around with Devon for a while longer, her rational self was all over that.
Nope, no wedding, no engagement, no nothing. He could huff and puff all he wanted, but Gemma was sure he wasn’t pants on head retarded enough to set fire to his entire town of goldsmiths – the very people who brought in a large chunk of his admittedly vast fortune. Even dragons couldn’t be that irrational, could they?
The closer she had got to the front door, lurking around in the shadows and trying to make herself scarcer than a mouse, the more doubts she had had. It was almost physically painful, bearing the thought of putting distance between herself and Devon. It sounded silly, if not stupid when she voiced the thought to herself, but there it was, plain as day.
Stepping out the front door had been hell itself, but when it closed behind her, her legs took over while her mind still hemmed and hawed. The sudden rain came as a surprise, but it seemed oddly poetic that she should be facing the elements as well as her own insecurities when breaking Devon’s trust.
So, she ran. But apparently, she couldn’t run fast or far enough.
Devon landed right in front of her, his massive clawed feet throwing around dirt and rocks, and his wings creating gushes of air that threw more water in her face. Her heart just about stopped as she skidded to a halt, the dragon as big as a house in front of her. She’d never seen one up so close. While a dragon seemed massive up in the air, it was nothing compared to staring one down at close distance.
His golden eyes peered right through her, twinkling with eons of wisdom she couldn’t begin to fathom (and neither could he, she mused darkly).
The blue-black scales glinted even in the lack of light, the occasional lightning bolt in the distance casting a stark light hue across him. He was breathtaking, even more so as a dragon than he was as a man – something she’d briefly thought impossible.
Instead of fear, she felt aggravated, and secretly, a little bit relieved. The words that tumbled out of her mouth came far easier than she thought they would have, having expected a terrified screech instead of that fake bravado that spilled from her mouth. It was easy to be full of herself when every fiber of her being told her that he wouldn’t hurt her, not in a million years.
The dragon stared at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, and the steam that rose from his nostrils fading out quickly. He seemed to contemplate her for a moment before the shift took him, and Gemma’s heart jumped as he turned back into the cocky man she knew and tentatively loathed.
“No,” he yelled, stepping closer to her, his voice booming over the rain as his dragon’s had just moments ago.
She could still feel the tremor in the ground from that roar of his.
“What?” she asked, standing her ground, her eyes ablaze with excitement.
Without noticing, her hands balled into fists, and her breath caught as he came ever closer and stood right in front of her, so close that she could feel the intense heat emanating off of his body. God, that body. The way the rain made his black shirt cling to his carved muscles and how the drops of water lurked down his chin, disappearing into rivers along his neck…
For a split second, she forgot where she was and was content to just stare at him in all his rugged perfection, until he shook her from the reverie she had so carefully crafted.
“No. I won’t get out of your way.” His voice was smooth and calm now, the growl swept out of it. She knew he wasn’t as calm as he let on, though – the golden eyes were sign enough of the contrary.
For a moment, she was speechless, and then, she tried to dodge past him. He caught her easily, spinning her back to face him, now tucked safely in his arms. The thunder seemed to roar louder all around them, deafening in its fury. His expression was almost stoic, with only his eyes shifting with that eternal fire that burned within him. It should have frightened her, but if anything, she felt safe and secure under the scrutiny of both the dragon and the man.
Her skin burned where his arms encircled her, and her chest rose and fell quickly, the sensation of his body so close to hers doing things to her she wasn’t completely prepared for.
“Listen, Gem,” he started, commanding her full attention. “When I said I chose you, I was not kidding, or making light, or offering it up for your review. I was telling you. From that moment onward, you were mine, and it is best if you get used to that knowledge sooner rather than later. You say I’ve picked and chosen what traditions I want to follow, and that may very well be, but these are my choices to make, not yours.
I’m sure you have your opinions on all of this, and how I am treating you unfairly, but I think you know as well as I do that when your family chose to live in Gold Valley, you gave up any pretense of free choice when it came to agreeing with the will of the dragons. Simply put, this was decided long before you were even a spec in the collective consciousness, and if you think that’s unfair, well, too bad, princess.”
He spoke with the certainty of a man, who had never been wrong. The sheer gall of him knocked the wind out of her sails. Gemma’s mouth fell slightly agape, and she stared at him in abject horror. She knew from ample personal experience that he was a cocky bastard, but she hadn’t quite grasped how bad he could be. Standing there in the darkness of a rainstorm, holding onto her while she had just been in the midst of an escape, he was still as cool and calm as ever in the knowledge that he could never be wrong.
Gemma saw red, easily ignoring the bit in her that relished being a princess to be pushed and pulled by his whims, and smacked him hard across the face.
“I’m not your princess!” she hissed, shaking with anger as he caught her wrist in his hand before she could try again.
His eyes flashed back to her, now blue and clear as day, and he smirked like she’d just given him the greatest treat she could have. Without missing a beat, he forced her hand down, and ignoring her surprised gasp, kissed her hard on the lips. Gemma’s eyes went wide with surprise, but as soon as his tongue dipped into her mouth, everything seemed to drift into the background. Suddenly, there was just Devon and his lips on hers and his arms around her.
Against better judgment, her body molded against his, and her lips met his eagerly, tasting him with the kind of passion she’d thought reserved for sappy romance tales. His hand was pressed flat against her lower back, and he released her wrist, bringing his other hand to snake through her hair, pulling her closer to him. The kiss made a roaring burst of heat uncoil within her, reaching to the very bottoms of her feet and the tips of her fingers before concentrating back together in a tight, hungry ball of desire at the pit of her stomach.
It didn’t seem cold anymore, and she could hardly tell that there was a storm raging around them. All she knew was that she was in Devon’s arms, and he held her like he was never prepared to let go. And that she liked it, even though she should have wanted to push him down a cliff. Truth be told, she wasn’t completely over the idea of shoving him down a ravine, but at the time being, she had more pressing issues – like distilling th
is moment and taking what she could from it before it ended. Because she knew it had to end.
Finally, he pulled away, and the storm seemed to stop at the very instant. One single drop of rain hit the ground next to them as she looked at the man, the impossible, infuriating, sexy as sin man that had made her life hell for the past two days. He smirked, and she just wanted to smack him again.
“Good. Now that we have that settled, I believe I need to take you back to your castle, princess.” Without further ceremony, he grabbed her by the legs and threw her over his shoulder like she were a feather and manhandling curvy women was what he did on a daily basis. Gemma gasped as he started back up towards the mansion as if what he was doing was the most perfectly normal thing he could possibly do.
“Oh my god! I can’t believe you! You ARROGANT, self-admiring, cocky bastard! If you think you can just pick me up and take me wherever you want, you’re SO wrong!” Gemma screeched, the skies clearing above her like nothing had happened whatsoever.
Devon scoffed, and when Gemma launched into another tirade about how much of an asshat he was, Devon smacked her across her butt, drawing a hiss from her.
Who the hell does he think he is!? And what was that kiss all about? Gemma, what did you get yourself into?!
Of course, the question she should have been asking was whether she wanted to get herself out of that particular situation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Devon
The cavern was as tall as it was wide, and it stretched endlessly into the distance as far as the eye could see. It was just the right kind of cold – the kind that invigorates a man and makes his step grow longer and faster, not the kind that weighs you down and takes what little energy you have. Being in the caverns under the mansion was just about the only time that Devon liked the cold. He leant on the smooth, polished rock at the doorway, eyeing his treasure thoughtfully. A small smile perched on his lips.
The piles of gold and unimaginable riches sprawled out before him, painstakingly gathered over a time longer than any human could fathom. For a dragon, however, it was only the beginning. A familiar shudder of glee ran through him, breathing fire into his joints and lifting the weariness of the previous day.
It was a tradition never to be broken – each day, the dragon of the house would come down to the caverns and make sure the treasure was safe. They didn’t really need to do it – a dragon would know immediately if something disturbed his riches. Like a mother senses the distress of a child, a dragon knows the location of every one of his precious jewels and carefully collected trinkets. Without a hint of urgency, Devon set off at a leisurely pace, his leather-clad feet scrunching over the golden hills as he walked through the long caverns.
This was not even the entirety of the Bluewing treasure, but certainly the mother of all of their boons. Some smaller caves were hidden in the hills surrounding Gold Valley and squirrelled away as far as Costa Rica and Monaco, where his brothers lorded over them. But here was where it all began, and as such, it was the most important of the hoards.
Sunlight glinted off the gold, perhaps blinding to a mere human, but reassuring in its ostentatiousness to a dragon. There were countless mirrors set up to carry down the light of the sun to illuminate the treasure, though the ceilings were also lined with daylight lamps – a much more recent addition to the ancient hideaway. In his dragon form, he would often sleep here in the caverns, curled up amidst his riches, never resting more soundly than when he knew the fortune of his family was safe and protected. But recently, the times when he could sneak off to rule over his hoard had grown scarcer and scarcer.
Devon’s expression shadowed slightly as he picked up a fine sapphire bracelet, immediately drawn by the deep blue glint of the stone that resembled his scales. Bluewings had an unmistakable affinity for sapphires.
I wonder if Gem would like this, Devon thought absentmindedly, hiding the bracelet in the pocket of his jacket, before continuing his walk.
Gemma had been in the mansion for five days now. Five long days filled with heated arguments, half-hearted escapes and spirited dinners, all of which Devon had come to love. She was a feisty one, that goldsmith from Gold Valley. He had to wonder if she knew how much he enjoyed the way she tried to stubbornly reason with him, though he thought his affections had been made rather clear by now. After that first night, when he collected her on the path to Gold Valley and kissed her with all the passion that eons of dragonkin love could muster, things had remained much the same.
True, she seemed a bit more complacent with her situation, but that might have been because she was running out of ways to try and reason with him. And where Gemma must have thought she was headstrong, she found the dragon to be even harder to crack – but that didn’t stop her from trying. He’d locked down the mansion, making sure no one came or went without him knowing, and he’d vowed to keep on trying to win her affection, even if, according to her, his attempts were somewhat misguided at times.
Devon grinned to himself, ducking through a small doorway that led into one of the side-caverns, set away from the main rooms. It was filled to the metaphorical rafters with jewelry featuring jades and other mossy or brilliant green trinkets. The sheen of the gems made him think of his own Gem’s eyes, and his heart beat faster. Devon licked across his lips, reminiscing about the way she tasted when she was pressed against him in the rain, moaning into his mouth as his tongue darted between her lips.
For the umpteenth time that day, he urged himself to calm, fighting with the desire to just burst into her room and take her right there on her wide bed until she wouldn’t resist him anymore. That may have been the way of the old dragons, and as much as Devon had turned into a traditionalist lately, even he couldn’t bring himself to sink that low.
She would have to want him as much as he did her, only then would the joining be as sweet as he imagined. Devon’s hands balled into fists, and he let out a hissing breath, a small sliver of smoke wafting out of his nostrils. When he caught sight of the plume of smoke, he snorted derisively and turned around on his heel, heading out of the room of jade. The woman was getting to him, and it was becoming more than just a nuisance now.
If he didn’t have her soon, he would go mad with lust, and a frustrated dragon was not something Gold Valley could handle.
Suddenly, all of the serenity that had settled upon him after walking into the caverns disappeared in a flash, shaken from him by that insurmountable aggravation growing within him, threatening to rip mind from flesh.
If she keeps toying with you like this, she will drive you mad, Devon told himself darkly. At that very moment, he felt the unmistakable pull that told his dragon that he had to find Gemma. Outwardly, he groaned, but broke into a hurried run towards the exit nonetheless. Inwardly, his dragon roared and thrashed, always on the brink of insanity when there was even the slightest chance that his mate may be in danger.
The dragon stone. Not again. She must be okay…
CHAPTER NINE
Devon
He was fuming. Devon stood at the doorway to the roof, both hands gripping the wooden frame, his eyes blazing with gold. Gemma stood in the middle of the roof, her arms crossed over her chest and a devilish grin on her lips. Even through his anger, Devon couldn’t help but want to kiss those ruby lips again. He gritted his teeth, and his dragon, though much calmer than the man now was, murmured in irritation deep within him.
She’s safe, he noted, the dragon needing no more than that to settle back down and wait until he was needed. But the man, oh that wasn’t enough for him. Not by a long shot. His knuckles were turning white from holding onto the doorframe so hard, and it was only through sheer force of will that he kept a very targeted raincloud forming right above Gemma’s head.
“I thought we agreed we would stop doing that,” Devon said grimly, prying his fingers loose one by one. He had run through the entire building, yelling her name, his powerful muscles carrying him right to her. All the while, his heart had been beating out
of his chest, worry choking him and threatening to break him in half, like it had done more than a dozen times over the last few days. He’d lost count of how many times he’d got stark raving mad at his princess, but there was little he could do about it other than try and make her stop. Enough was enough.
“No, you agreed that I should stop. I didn’t agree to anything,” Gemma said, dangling the dragon stone on a long chain. It seemed to suck the light out of the air around it, and when Gemma palmed it again, Devon was almost relieved to see it put away. The magic it held was dark and ancient, but truthfully, given the choice of running around because she wanted to irritate him versus not having her keep the dragon stone and potentially be in danger without him knowing about it, he’d take the former every time.
Devon walked across the stone floor, his footsteps heavy. A bead of sweat that he didn’t bother wiping away glistened on his brow. Let her see how she made him worry. Perhaps it would do her good, since she obviously wasn’t going to pay heed to anything else.
“And why is that?” he queried, quirking a brow at his princess. She was dressed in black pants and a form-fitting blue blouse that plunged low on her ample cleavage. It made his mouth water, and he could see himself peeling those layers of clothes off of her and finally tasting her in earnest. All the more pity that he had decided to try and behave.
“Well, if you’re going to keep me hostage here, I might as well amuse myself somehow,” Gemma said, twirling the chain and the dragon stone around her fingers. He cringed and caught her hand, placing the dragon stone back in her palm and closing it around the pendant. The little gasp she let out as he touched her skin didn’t go unnoticed by him.
“This is not a toy, princess. I gave it to you to protect you until I can…”
“Until you can what?” she asked, a little bit breathless. He liked hearing that little tremor in her voice that told him that she was reacting to him just as he was to her.
