Fated Mate_Misty Woods Dragons)

by Juniper Hart

  She had run from him that day, and Ansel had finally stood up to his father, refusing the wedding, much to the old man’s fury. It had not been hard to do. He had only needed a reason, and Nora had provided it for him.

  Things, however, had not gone as he planned.

  In the beginning, it had been as Ansel had dreamed. King Rui had cast him out, banishing him from Misty Woods and the kingdom. He had forbidden his brothers to have any contact with him, and Ansel had been relieved, to say the least.

  It seemed that from the moment that old hag Opal had entered the castle that hopeless, soulless night, her dark spell had been unbreakable.

  But nothing is unbreakable, Ansel had thought smugly, rushing to tell Nora the news. They could finally be together without the shadow of the curse hanging over their heads. We will be free of Misty Woods, of my father, and of everything that has been holding us back. It has taken us years, but we have prevailed!

  Ansel searched for her in the castle and throughout London. No one had seen her since the day they had parted, but in his heart, Ansel knew she would eventually return to him. She always did, after all.

  As the days turned to weeks, his confidence that she would return began to chip, until one day, Ansel had finally realized that she was never coming back. He had waited too long to do the right thing, and she had left him behind for good.

  Many nights, he flew around the countryside, hoping that his instinct would steer him to her, but the only place his wings took him was to the Americas, where he eventually fell into the lap of a retired heavyweight champion.

  Boxing had been an outlet for the loss he felt from Nora and the anger he felt toward himself. No one was a challenge, his hidden talent buried deeply, in a place where no one could see the fire burning inside him.

  It had taken him five years, but Ansel was, at last, able to accept that Nora had made a life for herself somewhere she did not wish to be found, and he was determined to be happy for her. He knew he had made her life miserable for long enough—it was only fair that he let her enjoy her peace with whatever new life and whatever partner she had found for herself.

  But there was always a lingering nagging in the back of his mind, something that told him she was still out there. Something that told him they still belonged together.

  Of course we belong together, he thought with some annoyance. Who else shares the secret that we do? She will resurface eventually. I must be patient.

  “That is a very unpleasant expression on your face.”

  Ansel turned towards the door of the bathroom to glance at his guest. Her dark hair dripped over her naked shoulders, and she cocked her head to the side, her brown eyes gleaming mischievously. A towel was wrapped around her body.

  “Is it?” he asked. “How odd. I was thinking very pleasant thoughts.”

  Her smile widened.

  “Is that right?” she teased. “Like what?”

  “Well,” Ansel started, sitting up to pat the bed welcomingly. “I was wondering what color your lips are. I’m afraid I didn’t get a very good look at them last night.”

  She snorted, but she still sashayed closer, running her fingertips over her bottom lip.

  “That’s because you weren’t looking at my lips,” she reminded him, and Ansel chuckled.

  “That might be true, but I am very curious right now,” he insisted. “May I take a gander?”

  She giggled and perched on the bed at his side.

  “You are going to break me,” she whispered as he drew closer, his mouth grazing hers. “You’re like a beast.”

  “Mm,” Ansel mumbled, slipping her towel over her full bosom, his tongue tracing the curve of her shoulder. “I am a beast.”

  “A dragon?” she giggled, and Ansel tensed for a moment.

  She means your moniker, he told himself, his hands reaching up to cup her beasts.

  “Something like that.” He knocked her down, and she squealed as he pinned her arms over her head, his mouth suctioning around one of her firm nipples. She smelled so fresh after her shower, and Ansel instantly felt himself growing hard as he straddled her in his boxer shorts.

  Purring, the brunette arched her slender back upward, and Ansel nipped at her sweetly, feeling a sudden warmth against his groin. He sighed and allowed his lips along the softness of her warm, dimpled skin.

  Her legs came up as his head lowered across her flat stomach, his breath hot against her. His hands reached beneath her perfectly sculpted rear, drawing her succulent center closer to his face. She mewled quietly, her fingers closing in around his dark hair as she pushed him further into her.

  With long, deliberate strokes, Ansel tasted her, relishing the sound of her sighs and moans. His tongue grew rougher, his palms squeezing around her buttocks, and he rubbed his growing erection against her creamy naked calf.

  She gasped and tensed beneath him, a small cry escaping her lips as her release met his mouth, and Ansel smiled to himself, knowing that she was ready for him. When he was certain she had finished her first orgasm, he raised his head, his gray eyes boring into hers.

  For a second, he was taken aback to realize that he was not entangled in Nora’s body.

  She is not here, he scolded himself, forcing his mind to focus on the nude beauty below him.

  Suddenly, Ansel flipped her around, positioning himself at her back. He took off his boxer shorts and slapped a firm cheek. The girl squealed quietly, spreading herself for him to take her. Ansel licked his lips, but before he plunged into her, he lowered his mouth to taste her again, ensuring she was wet and ready for him. Then he delved into her waiting middle with his raging shaft.

  She screamed at the powerful thrust, gasping as he instantly hit his stride, his movements firm and full. Ansel saw her hands close around the sheets, grasping for leverage, but he did not slow his pace.

  She began whimpering, her body shaking beneath him, and Ansel could sense her ready to release. At that moment, he slid his finger inside her, along with his member, and she yelled out, her face flushing scarlet as her release met his.

  Hot juices flowed forth, joining inside her scalding center as they grunted together, each bucking against the other. With a heavy breath, Ansel withdrew from the warmth of her middle and plopped onto the bed at her side.

  “Jesus,” she mumbled. “Where do you keep that stored?”

  Ansel laughed. “I would have thought that was something they taught you in health education class.”

  She propped her head up in her hand and looked at him.

  “Who knew that British guys have so much passion,” she teased. “A boxing champion and an animal in bed. I thought you Brits were supposed to be the picture of decorum and properness.”

  Ansel chuckled and sat up, shifting his eyes away as he looked for his boxers.

  “I cannot attest to the others,” he replied. “But I also know how to separate my salad fork from my shrimp fork.”

  She didn’t speak for a moment, and Ansel glanced back at her to make sure she had not fallen asleep. Her eyes were trained on his open laptop, but they shifted back to him.

  “I see you have Facebook,” she said coyly, rising to dress herself, too. “Maybe we can be friends. I promise not to name drop or anything.”

  Ansel laughed.

  “I will add you,” he promised as he found a t-shirt. A half-smile remained on her full mouth.

  “Will you?” she asked, and Ansel nodded amiably.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  She gestured at the laptop with her chin. “Well, for one thing, Nora might not like it.”

  Ansel grew terse at the sound of her name. It felt dirty coming from her lips, and he wished he had closed the computer before she had come out of the bathroom.

  “Nora isn’t on Facebook,” he replied flatly.

  She smirked slightly.

  “The one that got away, huh?” she asked, and Ansel bit back a scathing response.

  “Something like that,” he said tight
ly, sitting back down on the bed. She seemed to sense his displeasure, and rather than keep pushing him, she changed the subject.

  “For another thing, you don’t know my name.”

  Ansel gaped at her for a minute, realizing that she was speaking the truth. After he had brought her back to his hotel the previous night, there had been very little talking. His lips parted, and he wracked his mind to find something clever to say. Nothing came out.

  The girl laughed mirthlessly and slipped on her too short skirt, turning to slip on a pair of indecently high heels.

  “It’s Carrie,” she tossed out as she walked toward the French doors, leading into the living room. “I’ll be at the hotel until Saturday, if you’re looking for another round or two. Room 414. If you come, maybe I’ll give you my full name or email so we can ‘like’ each other’s pictures.”

  She chuckled and disappeared, leaving Ansel to stare after her.

  He knew he should feel embarrassed, but he didn’t. There had been dozens of Carries over the years, all of them dark-eyed and brunettes like Nora, but none of them were the woman he wanted. They simply filled a void in him when boxing did not suffice.

  A scream echoed through the hotel suite, and Ansel leapt from the bed.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded, slightly annoyed as he stood up to investigate. As he entered the front room, he saw Carrie walking back, her hands up, eyes wide with fear.

  A man was in front of her, a pistol aimed at her face. Behind him were three other men: Tony Valducci, Luca, and another bodyguard, probably, each of them carrying a firearm, poised to shoot.

  “Don’t try anything stupid,” Tony growled, and Ansel raised his arms in mock surrender.

  “Of course not,” he replied smoothly. “What are you doing here? And what’s with the theatrics?”

  “You owe me a million dollars, kid,” Tony spat. “I don’t know what kind of party trick you pulled on me the other night, but I ain’t leaving here until I get it.”

  Oh, it’s a million dollars now. Has this guy watched too many mob movies, or is this really how they do things in Nevada? Ansel wondered silently, shaking his head.

  “Ansel, what’s going on?” Carrie whimpered, and Ansel gave her a reassuring smile.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” he told her before turning his attention back to the obese mobster. “Let her go, Tony, and we can talk like men.”

  Tony snorted. “She ain’t going anywhere until I get an agreement from you, slugger. You cost me a lot of money.”

  “I’ll give you whatever you want,” Ansel said, trying not to roll his eyes. “All right?”

  Tony eyed him uncertainly, obviously expecting more of a fight from him.

  “When?” he demanded. “You heard what I said? One million.”

  Ansel did not ask how four hundred thousand had suddenly transformed into a million, but he was sure that must include some mob accounting he had no interest in learning.

  “I said fine,” Ansel insisted. “Let her go.”

  The men shared a look, and Ansel evaluated the consequences of exposing himself to a group that size. He would have to kill them all, including Carrie. The room was registered to his name as well.

  He had run and started over in the past, but he had done so with his father’s help. If he caused a scandal now, he would be on his own. He couldn’t risk it—not this time.

  I worked too hard to get where I am, he thought to himself. There is no way I am going to lose it all because of this meathead. I will deal with him after Carrie leaves.

  Tony nodded at Carrie.

  “If you tell anyone what you saw here, honey, I’ll kill ya,” he told her. “And trust me, it ain’t gonna be hard to find you. Got it?”

  Carrie’s face went translucent, and she stared desperately at Ansel. He could see that she wanted to run away screaming, but she also didn’t want to leave him alone with such seemingly dangerous company.

  “Go, Carrie,” Ansel instructed. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

  “You don’t get to give orders around here,” Tony snapped.

  Ansel stared at him deliberately, waiting.

  Tony grunted and nodded. “Get the hell out of here. And remember what I said, sweetheart. I ain’t got no problem offing a girl.” He ran his finger across his throat and leered at her, his porcine face menacing.

  Carried swallowed, her coffee eyes filled with panic as she looked at Ansel.

  “It’s fine,” he repeated.

  “Go before I change my mind!” Tony roared. Carrie jumped, scampering toward the door, and then she had left the suite.

  The huge men closed in around Ansel.

  “You have two days to get me my money,” Tony glowered. “Make it one point five for letting your girl go.”

  Ansel smirked at him.

  “Fine,” he agreed. “Where do I bring it?”

  Again, a fleeting look of nervousness crossed over Tony’s face.

  “You ain’t taking this very seriously, kid,” he spat. “You don’t realize that I’m gonna break your legs right now if you don’t wipe that smirk from your face. I can’t imagine how you’re gonna box without any legs.”

  Ansel stared at him, allowing his eyes to transition to amber. Tony’s face grew somber.

  “You see that?” he demanded, pointing at Ansel with his gun, but his eyes had fallen back into their sooty granite color.

  “I understand,” Ansel said conversationally, as if he hadn’t heard Tony’s panic. “And I will get it for you. Just let me know where to meet you.”

  The mobster whirled his back on him.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he mumbled, ushering the others out of the room.

  “Boss, do you want me to—” Luca started to offer, but Tony was in too big a rush to leave.

  “Let’s go!” he snarled, pushing Luca and his other goon toward the door like he couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

  Ansel waited until the door closed before he burst into laughter.

  Nora would never have panicked like Carrie did, he thought, sighing deeply as his laughter quieted down. Although, to her credit, she did want to stay and make sure everything was all right.

  He was going to have to find Carrie and ensure she kept her mouth shut. He wished that Nora was around, if only to see what he was going to do to Tony Valducci when they met again.

  I know you are out there, darling. I will find you, and we can set him on fire together.

  5

  “Where are you? Where have you gone?”

  “I am here! I have always been here. It is you who always runs off and leaves me to pine for you.”

  Nora stared through the darkness, her hands reaching out to touch his face, but she couldn’t see him.

  “You must come back to me now, Nora. I cannot live like this anymore. Tell me where to find you.”

  It was then she realized the man she was looking for was speaking English.

  “What is your name?”

  A silence met her question.

  “Please, will you tell me your name? How do we know one another?”

  “Nora? Is that you?”

  She stepped forward into the blackness, both of her arms outstretched.

  I know his voice. I feel it, and I… I know what he looks like… but…

  “It isn’t you, is it? You have left me, haven’t you?” the stranger muttered, hurt coating his words. “I did not marry her. I came back for you, but you were already gone.”

  “Marry who? Who are you?” Nora begged him. “I know your voice. I know you, but I can’t think of your name!”

  Suddenly, a form flew past her, and she cried out as it grabbed her arm. She stared desperately at the silhouette, but he was still only a shadow.

  “Where are you?” she cried. “Where can I find you?”

  “Las Vegas.”

  The shadow roughly pushed her away, and she reached out to grab his arm, but his movements grew rougher.

  �
��Wake up!” he ordered. “Wake up now!”

  “No!” Nora screamed. “This isn’t a dream!”

  “Wake up! You’re speaking English!”

  He was now speaking French.

  “Nora, wake up!”

  The final shove from the shadow caused Nora’s eyes to fly open, and she gasped as Jerome sat over her, his face a mask of anger.

  “You’re home,” she mumbled in English, the words slipping from her tongue, and he slapped her across the face. Nora gasped, trying to shake the cobwebs from her mind.

  “Why are you speaking English?” Jerome demanded. “Who did you speak to in town?”

  Confusion swept through her as she struggled to sit up, the darkness casting a sinister shadow around Jerome’s features.

  “You’re home,” she repeated, this time in French. He glowered at her.

  “Get up,” he snapped. “Get up right now.”

  Groggily, Nora struggled to oblige, the dream still clinging to the foggy edges of her mind.

  “Why, what—what time is it?” she asked, even though that wasn’t the question she wanted answered. She wanted to understand why Jerome was waking her in the middle of the night. She wanted to know why she could speak English as if she had grown up with it, and if their encounter in London had ever truly occurred.

  What is happening to me? Nora wondered as she placed her feet on the floor, a wave of dizziness overcoming her.

  “I think I’m sick,” she mumbled. “I don’t feel well.”

  “You aren’t sick,” Jerome said. “Collette put something in your tea to help you sleep. Just lean against me. I have a surprise for you.”

  The words rolled around in Nora’s mind. Put something in my tea to help me sleep? Does she do this often?

  Her brain was far too cloudy to feel anything except anxiety, but she allowed Jerome to take her arm as they walked into the sitting room.

  He sat her on the sofa, and Nora shivered at the bite in the air. She looked uncomprehendingly around the darkened sitting room.

  “Can we turn on the fireplace?” she asked. Jerome shook his head. “But it’s cold in here, and I’m sleepy,” she protested.

  “No,” he said. “We are not staying here. We are going for a little drive, but you must be very quiet so as to not wake the household.”