by Anna Lowe
That drew a tiny smile from him, so she went on.
“And there’s this really sweet kitten he’s very kind to.”
“You never know,” he warned. “It could all be an act.”
“I thought so at first. But then I saw him — all those late nights. All that stress he bottles up inside.”
“Dragons don’t stress,” he insisted.
“This one does. About his home, about his friends. About the future. It’s a big, bad world out there, and he’s trying to conquer it all on his own.”
He looked straight ahead, mum.
“He does everything for everyone but nothing for himself. And that’s what I love about him.”
His eyes darted to her then bounced away. God, the man was like a teenager, fascinated by but unable to talk about love. Had Moira burned him that badly?
“Love?” he growled.
She tried to play it cool. “Could be a figure of speech.”
He nodded, very businesslike.
She tightened her fingers over his leg and leaned close to his ear. “Could be not.”
His eyes glowed a warm brick color in the darkness, and her inner furnace heated by about twenty degrees. Silas’s heat reached out toward her, coaxing her closer. Inviting her to think all kinds of dirty thoughts, like unbuttoning his shirt and sliding a hand across his chest.
The car slowed and swung into a turn, pushing her body away from his.
“Home,” Silas murmured as they drove up to the gate of the estate.
Home. She turned the word over in her mind. Where was home? Where did she fit in with the chess pieces destiny seemed so intent on arranging?
The gate slid open, inviting them in. A pity Maui wasn’t bigger — she would have preferred to drive for another few hours. Because the moment Silas set foot on the estate, she’d bet he would head straight to his office and lock himself in with his problems.
The car pulled up to the garage — back where they started in some ways, but much further along at the same time. When Silas came around the car and offered her a hand out, she had to resist the urge to pull him in and drive back out the gates. But she let him walk her toward the guesthouse in silence.
A firefly blinked in the darkness, the sole light between tiki torches that had burned low. A bird fluttered through the trees. The meeting house was dim and lifeless, the others long since scattered to their homes. Everything was serene and safe, but her feet felt heavy as she walked toward the inevitable goodbye. Silas had opened up to her on the drive, but the most she could expect from him was a polite peck on the cheek and a whispered Good night.
Minutes later, they were at the porch of the guesthouse, peering over the waves. Cassandra closed her eyes, replaying the kiss they’d shared at the gala. A kiss that had come out of nowhere and turned into a force of its own. One she had never wanted to end.
Silas cleared his throat, and she braced herself. This was it. Silas felt the same longing for more as she did — she was sure of it — but he would lock it away.
“Cassandra,” he whispered.
At least there was that — he’d quit calling her Miss Nichols. A small victory?
She faced him, refusing to utter a word. Determined to make parting as hard for him as it was for her.
When he continued, Silas’s voice was croaky. “Can I take you up on that offer?”
She blinked. “What?”
He motioned behind him, still weary, yet hopeful, somehow. “That long walk on the beach. Would you mind?”
Her eyes went wide, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. But when Silas stuck his elbow out, she threaded her arm through the gap and nestled close to his side.
“That would be very nice,” she managed, feeling the heat rush back to her core.
Chapter Fourteen
It had been a long time since Silas had taken a walk anywhere. When a dragon shifter needed to blow off steam, he went flying. That was just the way things were done. So he’d done a lot of that lately, though it hadn’t really seemed to help.
But a walk, as it turned out, was just what he needed. And yes — he even did it barefoot. Just ten steps down the beach with Cassandra made the knots in his shoulders unravel and the pinched feeling in his brow ease. He wiggled his toes in the sand, tilted his head back, and took in the stars. Maybe there was more than one way to go about things in life — other than dragon style.
Which was akin to sacrilege, but hell. Other than Kai and — he grimaced — Drax, he was the last of his family line. Maybe he didn’t need to stick to tradition quite so closely any more. Some traditions were good, of course. They reminded him who he was and made him feel connected with the long line of dragons he’d come from. But other aspects, well…
Maybe Cassandra is right, his dragon considered. But I still like flying. Maybe we can take her someday.
As far as relaxing forms of distraction went, flying with Cassandra would probably rate an eleven out of ten. But walking on the beach with her… That was still a ten.
The light play of her fingers over his, the warmth of her body against his side, the tickle of her hair on his shoulder. She made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t felt for a long time. A little too alive, even. His dragon had been screaming all kinds of ungentlemanly suggestions into his mind throughout the evening, and it was growing worse now.
Must have my mate! Must mark her. Must claim her.
No matter how game Cassandra seemed to be to get closer, he had to keep control of his inner beast.
But she’s so perfect! his dragon cried.
Technically, he knew no one was perfect. But, damn. Cassandra came incredibly close. Perfect for him, at least. Their bodies meshed as they walked, effortlessly matching strides. So perfectly that it was all too easy to imagine how they would mesh in other ways.
Oh, we’ll mesh, all right. His dragon waggled his eyebrows.
“Nice night,” Cassandra murmured, stopping to look out over the sea.
The sea breeze carried her scent over to him, letting it mingle with his, giving him all kinds of dangerous ideas.
He watched the moon ripple over the sea. The sparkling light bounced off waves in irregular patterns that were impossible to predict. It was magical, almost. Which made that aggravating twitch in his cheek go off again.
Never trust a witch.
Watch out for witches and their crafty spells.
Witches and humans are never to be trusted.
He shook his head, trying to dispel such nonsense.
Our mate wouldn’t use magic on us, his dragon insisted. This is a different kind of magic. Like Mom used to say — Love is magic.
Of course, his father had scoffed every time his mother said so, but Silas was starting to wonder which one of them was wiser.
Look closely, his dragon said. That’s just nature’s magic, not a witch’s spell.
He watched the sea, slowly relaxing again. The scene was beautiful. A different kind of beautiful than Maui’s daytime splendor, filled like a vibrant watercolor painting with every hue in the rainbow. Nighttime muted everything to black, white, and countless shades of gray, and the contrast had its own beauty. Watching the sea from ground level was novel too. The rippling effect was different, for starters. From up high, the waves trapped lines of moonlight and held them tight. From the beach, moonbeams skipped over wavetops, unfettered and utterly free.
“Nice night,” he agreed, slipping an arm over Cassandra’s shoulders without thinking.
She patted his belly and spoke in a light, playful voice. “Almost calming, huh?”
He grinned. “It is.”
She nodded. “You know what else is calming?” She was all-out teasing him now, but hell. He loved it.
“What?”
“This.”
His eyes went wide as she kissed him full on the lips. Not so calming, really, because his heart rate tripled. But a second later, his eyelids drooped, and his mind went blissfully blank. Blank enough for him to wra
p his arms around Cassandra and forget why she was supposed to be off-limits.
Her lips were honey sweet and pillow soft. Her hair was silky, her breasts soft against his chest. Her mouth opened under his, and he slid his hands over her hips. Moonlight might have been sparkling over the sea, but in that moment, she was the sunlight and he was the sea. Or maybe he was the moonlight and Cassandra was the sea?
Quit being a poet and just enjoy the damn kiss, his dragon barked.
So he did, and wow. Could a kiss really be that good?
Cassandra pulled back, leaving him smooching empty air for a second before his eyes snapped open and refocused on her.
A wave of anger shot through him. Was she playing games with him? Because Moira had done that, and—
“See?” she murmured through half-shuttered eyes — eyes so void of malice that his anger receded as quickly as it had come.
My mate doesn’t play games, his dragon said. She’s not Moira.
He could see the honesty in her trembling lips and innocent eyes — dazed, doe eyes that told him the kiss affected her as much as it had affected him. Her fingers pressed lightly against his chest, neither insistent nor forceful, and her breath came in uneven rushes.
So not Moira, his dragon crooned.
“I’m not sure I’d call that calming,” he murmured, trying to stay cool.
She wants this. We want this. Don’t stop now. His dragon egged him on.
“No?”
“More like the opposite,” he admitted, running his hands around her waist.
She shrugged and inched closer. “That works too.”
When they kissed again, a volley of fireworks blazed through his body. Big red, fiery ones that stirred his desire. Sparkly green and yellow ones that cascaded gently through his veins. Blue twinkles that started out like stars and exploded outward, taking all his cares with them.
The kiss grew hotter. Hungrier. More insistent — on both sides. Cassandra swept her tongue over his lips then more boldly over his teeth. He shuffled closer and let his tongue brush hers as he slid his hands lower, nudging her closer to his rapidly swelling cock. She ran her hands up and down his sides, driving his dragon wild.
He pulled her closer yet, and when she ground against his erection, he swallowed a groan. Then she whimpered into the kiss, blowing every fuse in his brain.
She is my mate. She is my destiny.
She’s a witch, his father’s voice echoed through his head.
He broke off the kiss, going red in the face. Even dead, his father had a way of butting into his life at the least opportune times.
She’s my mate! his dragon roared.
Silas almost wished his father really were there so he could shout everything he’d never been able to express in real life. Things like, I love and respect you, but I am not you. I will do things my own way. I will make my own decisions. Is that clear?
By the time he finished that inner rant, his dragon’s voice was a bellow in his mind.
He stood there panting, searching his mind.
“You okay?” Cassandra whispered, running her hands over his chest.
He checked every corner of his consciousness, every closet of memories until he’d made sure the specter of his father was gone.
“I’m good,” he said, though his voice was hoarse as if he’d been shouting for real. “But listen…”
She shook her head wildly. “No buts. No ifs.”
He grasped her by the shoulders. “Dragons don’t do things halfway, Cassandra. If we go any further…”
Her grip tightened over his shirt. “I want to go further. Can’t you see?”
“But witches and dragons have been enemies for centuries—”
Cassandra nodded. “Feuding like the goddamn Hatfields and McCoys. But that’s not our feud, Silas. I get that now. Don’t you?”
He did. He wanted her more than anything. But did she understand who she was tangling with? Did she really want to unleash his long pent-up desires?
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he forced himself to say. “It would be safer—”
“I’m sick of playing it safe. I’m sick of careful.”
He took a deep breath, deciding for one last try at sanity before he caved in completely. “You need to be sure before we take this too far. Before it’s too late.”
She cupped his face. “It is too late, Silas. And you know what?”
He blinked, trying hard to focus. But she was moving in for another kiss he desperately wanted, and he just couldn’t summon the willpower to resist.
“The minute I met you, it was too late,” she whispered. “And I wouldn’t turn the clock back if I could.”
In his mind, he stood perfectly still, shell-shocked by her words. His body, however, acted on its own and closed the remaining distance to meet her kiss. A hard, do-or-die kiss that had him pressing closer than before. He could feel her every curve, taste the desire on her tongue.
Don’t even try to stop this now, his dragon growled.
He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. But after another minute of frenzied grappling on the beach, he did pull away for a lungful of air.
“I changed my mind,” he murmured.
“You what?” Cassandra screeched.
He caught her hands before she could karate chop his windpipe. “How about a rain check on the walk, and we head to the guesthouse instead?”
“You…” she grumbled, though a smile crept over her lips.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to tease,” he said, pulling her close again.
She’d only stepped away for seconds, yet it felt like a huge void. But the moment their bodies connected again, that sense of calm set in again. A calm within a storm, perhaps, because his body was still on fire.
She grabbed his hand, about-faced, and marched him back across the beach, covering the ground to the guesthouse in half the time they’d taken to stroll away. Then she yanked him up the three stairs and all but shoved him against the doorframe.
“Stay right there. And don’t even think about changing your mind.” She shook a finger in his face.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. But—”
She shushed him with a kiss, then pulled away. “My turn to be a tease.”
His lips moved, but no sound came out. What was she doing?
The space inside the guesthouse was compact, but the bed was big, and his dragon tracked her movements around it closely, already fast-forwarding through half a dozen positions he and she might—
Cut that out, he barked at the beast. How was he ever going to stay in control with the beast suggesting such things?
Who said anything about control? his dragon huffed.
Cassandra moved quickly, opening a drawer then slamming it shut in her rush. A match scratched on a rough surface, and the scent of sulfur filled the room.
His dragon breathed deeply. I love the smell of a kindled fire.
Silas followed the yellow glow of a match behind Cassandra’s cupped hand.
“Now if I were any good as a witch…” she muttered.
What was that about?
She blew out the match, lit another, and proceeded to light a dozen more candles until the room was lit up like a chapel. Then she marched over to him and waved the last match in the air between them, extinguishing the flame.
Extinguishing that flame, his dragon chuckled. Not the one inside me.
“What do you think?” She cocked her head at him.
He opened his arms, and she slipped right into his embrace. Moonlight streamed past him through the open doorway, casting their shadows across the bed.
“I stopped thinking when we reached the end of the beach,” he admitted. “But this is nice.”
She nodded, obviously pleased with herself, and sidled closer until her hips were hard against his. “Your turf, by the way.” She ran her finger over his lips. “You know, what with dragons being sensitive about territory and everything.”
The last part of his mind capable of r
ational thought chastised him. Cassandra was the one out of her element, and yet she trusted him — unconditionally, it seemed.
So not like Moira, his dragon sighed.
He closed his eyes briefly, shuttering Moira out of his mind. This was his night with his mate, and he wouldn’t let Moira butt in on his heart, mind, or soul ever again.
“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing one of Cassandra’s hands.
Her scent was concentrated around her wrists, together with that of a faint, exotic perfume, and the combination pushed him to the very edge of his control.
“Oh, you’ll be thanking me soon enough.” She winked. “I guarantee it.”
“Still teasing, Miss Nichols?”
She shook her head, leaning forward until her lips brushed his. “Tease over. Let the fun begin.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cassandra undid Silas’s tie and drew it off slowly, letting the silk slide across his neck. His eyes flared, and the red glow intensified.
What exactly had gotten into her, she wasn’t sure. But that hardly seemed to matter because she wanted him. Needed him. Now.
She kissed him — no, consumed him — while pushing his jacket back. The billionaire playboy look was a turn-on, for sure, but she wanted more. She had to practically wrestle the jacket off his shoulders, what with all that muscle trapped inside.
“Promise me when you take my dress off, you’ll be a little more gentle,” she murmured. “It’s a loaner.”
“Can’t promise anything,” he growled into his next kiss.
For a second, he was handcuffed in the inside-out sleeves of his jacket, and she chuckled. “You’re at my mercy, dragon.”
He turned that smoldering look on her. “I’ve been at your mercy from day one.”
Her jaw dropped for a split second before she recovered. “And I thought you were the dangerous one.”
She kissed his neck before he could answer and undid the buttons of his shirt, intoxicated by his scent — a natural cologne that carried a hint of sophistication with a splash of something completely wild. Silas tipped his head back, inviting her closer — another little fantasy come true. The kisses became nips, and Silas growled in warning. A real, animal growl, so unlike the refined man she’d grown accustomed to. But exactly like him too, because she’d seen past the carefully maintained exterior and glimpsed the real him — a mix of man and animal waiting to be let free.
