by Donna Grant
He dropped her hand and walked into the bedroom. No lights were on. It might hinder a mortal, but not him. Moving aside the blinds, he was able to see that no one was at the window. A closer inspection showed where someone had tried to unlock it to get inside. He put his hand on the glass and used his dragon magic to ensure that no one could get in to do Devon harm.
He returned to the hallway but held up a hand to stop her when she started toward him. “No’ yet,” he whispered.
One by one, he went to each window upstairs and then on the first floor and spelled them. He then did the same to the front and rear doors. Not once did he see anyone attempting to gain entrance into the flat.
It should’ve relieved him, but it didn’t.
When he finally returned to Devon, she stood where he’d left her. She was occupied, attempting to tuck a corner of the towel in to hold it in place, so she didn’t see him.
Her head swung to him with her brows raised in silent question.
“They’re gone,” he said.
She blew out a breath and leaned back against the wall. “So someone was trying to break in?”
“Aye.”
“On a second-story window?”
“It appears so.”
She shook her head in amazement. “What next?”
“I’ve learned it’s never a good idea to ask that.”
Her gaze locked with his as the light from the bathroom filled the hallway. He knew he should return to the living room. It was the best place for him—for both of them. Yet he couldn’t leave.
He closed the distance between them slowly, giving her ample time to move away. When he stood before her, he ran a finger down the same cheek he’d cupped earlier. Then he reached up and released her hair.
The brunette locks tumbled down about her face to skim the tops of her shoulders. He slid his fingers into the silky thickness and held her head in place. Just as he was lowering his head to kiss her, she looked to the side, turning her face away.
He released her instantly and took a step back. His willpower might have shattered, but not Devon’s. She knew it was folly for them to travel down such a road.
It was lucky that she had the wherewithal to remember what was at stake. For him to complicate matters by taking her to his bed was pure folly.
Putting a finger beneath her chin, he turned her face to him and shot her a quick smile. It was important that she knew he wasn’t angry. The relief he saw in her eyes affirmed that it was better they not give in to the desire—no matter how badly the inferno blazed within him.
Anson turned on his heel and walked downstairs. There was no whisky, so he settled for an ale.
He thought of Brenna, his intended. Had he given in to the yearning he felt for Devon, he might very well have found himself on the path Con had warned him about.
A century earlier, Con had urged him to let go of the promise he’d given Brenna. Con’s argument was that she was long dead, and that Anson shouldn’t hold onto something like that.
Though Con had a point, it wasn’t Brenna’s fault that he hadn’t been able to fulfill his promise to take her as his mate. If he had performed the ceremony before the dragons were sent away, then he would’ve condemned her to an eternity alone without other dragons, never venturing away from Dreagan. Because a Dragon King’s mate lived as long as they did.
And since a Dragon King could only be killed by another Dragon King, that literally meant all eternity.
Perhaps it was better that they hadn’t been coupled. More so because if Brenna had truly been his mate, he wouldn’t be thinking about Devon as much as he was.
All those years, he’d believed that Brenna was his one and only. Dragons mated for life, so when they entered such a union, both knew without a doubt of their love.
Is that why he had put off the ceremony with Brenna? Had he known then that she wasn’t the one? While other Kings had looked to humans to occupy their beds, Anson had preferred to remain with dragons.
Mainly because a union between a Dragon King and a human had never brought forth a living child. At least with a dragon, Anson had known his line would continue.
That didn’t seem to matter now that all the dragons were gone.
In an effort to move his thoughts from the past, he sent Kinsey and Esther a text, letting them know what Devon had found during her search of Kyvor. He then stared at the window, the next hour crawling by with excruciating slowness.
The flat was quiet. He didn’t hear any noises coming from upstairs, so he assumed that Devon had gone to bed. Another long night was ahead of him. He lay out on the sofa and put one arm behind his head as he closed his eyes. He wouldn’t sleep, but he could rest.
His thoughts drifted to the time before humans had arrived on the realm. Most of the other Dragon Kings called it a simpler time. That wasn’t the case with him. It had been the worst kind of hell.
A dragon chosen to be a King wasn’t given a choice. As soon as it became evident that a dragon had more magic and power than the current King, everyone wanted—and expected—a battle.
Anson had never asked for the gifts that put him in the position to become a Dragon King. He’d hidden his power for years until it became impossible to do so.
He wasn’t the one to issue the fight, but he hadn’t backed away from it either. When the King of the Browns had put out the challenge to him, Anson was ready to face whatever his fate might be.
Even now, he recalled Con and other Dragon Kings—Kellan, Rhys, and Banan—watching as the fight commenced. The battle had seemed to last for days. At one point, Anson thought for sure he would die.
Then his instincts took over, and before he knew it, he stood over the dead body of a dragon. Cheers went up from his browns as they looked upon their new King.
Except he hadn’t celebrated. He’d had to kill for the position, a title he hadn’t even wanted. He’d kept that to himself as Constantine came to talk to him. In the middle of that conversation, Anson had shifted to human form for the first time.
It was Banan who helped him navigate the new body and learn to shift back and forth at will. Through it all, he kept his true feelings about being a Dragon King to himself.
There were few times in the thousands of centuries since that he was glad of who he was. Now was one of them. Because only a Dragon King could protect Devon.
As if his thoughts had conjured her, he opened his eyes to find Devon standing beside him. He blinked, unsure if she were a figment of his imagination or real. Then she sat on the edge of the cushion.
He still wasn’t convinced it was really her until she bent and placed her lips on his.
CHAPTER TWELVE
There was no denying it. She had well and truly lost her mind.
But it felt heavenly.
Devon could barely fill her lungs with air as she perched on the few inches of sofa cushion not taken up by Anson’s powerfully built body.
It might be practical to say something, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything. Ever since he’d pressed that hard physique against her, she hadn’t been able to think about anything but him.
Running her hands over those muscles.
Sliding her fingers into his black hair.
Feeling the weight of him atop her.
Having him inside her.
When he’d tried to kiss her in the hallway, she’d been so shocked that she looked away. Looked away! What kind of idiot does that?
Her, apparently.
She’d tried to read. She’d even tried to sleep. But he filled her mind completely. So she decided to do something she’d never done before—make a move.
Now, here she was, sitting beside him as he lay on the couch. His eyes watched her curiously—and with a touch of anticipation. The fact that he wanted her to kiss him gave her the boost of confidence to finish what she’d begun.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. But not in fear or even anxiety. In eagerness.
She leaned down an
d pressed her lips against his. There was a second where he didn’t move. Then he let loose a groan that rumbled his chest.
A sigh escaped her when his fingers entwined with her hair once again. Her head tipped to the side as the kiss deepened. She could tell he was holding back, and after she had turned him away upstairs, she didn’t blame him. But if she were going to do this, she wanted all of him.
Devon ended the kiss and straightened. Confusion filled his gaze. She smiled and got to her feet before unbelting her robe. There was a millisecond where it felt as if she had an out-of-body experience and was looking down upon the room.
Despite this being so out of the ordinary for her, it felt good. Right, even. There was a grin upon her lips as she pulled open the robe and let it fall to her feet to reveal that she had nothing on underneath.
His gaze heated her skin as he gradually looked her up and down. He slowly sat up and reached for her. Large hands were placed upon her hips as he pulled her toward him. Then he stood, lifting her as he did.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, and her arms around his neck. Their gazes clashed. Her stomach quivered with excitement when she saw the desire he didn’t try to hide.
He held her easily as he made his way to the stairs. Before she knew it, they were inside her bedroom. He stopped in the middle of the room and set her down as if it physically pained him to do so.
She didn’t want to release him. It felt good to be in his arms, and she wanted to return there. Reluctantly, she let go. As soon as she did, he began to undress.
His white shirt was the first to go. Her lips parted as she took in his finely sculpted chest to his stomach where she counted each and every one of his abs.
With arms that rippled with chiseled sinew, her hands itched to touch him. Before she got the chance, he removed his boots and pants.
When he straightened, she bit her lip at the absolute perfection that stood before her. It was the sight of his arousal that caused her sex to clench in need. Her desire blazed out of control—and she loved it.
In the next heartbeat, he had her against him, his mouth plundering hers. He kissed her hungrily, greedily. Ravenously.
She moaned, her hands clutching him as she fought to get closer. It wasn’t until she felt something against her back that she realized he’d moved them against the wall.
His kiss stole her breath.
It gave her life.
As if she had been sleepwalking up until that moment. Everything became crystal clear. The more their tongues mated, the more she felt herself changing. Like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.
He pulled on her hair, causing her to expose her neck. She gasped in pleasure as he kissed down the column of her throat to lick her pulse point.
Everything he did was erotic, sensual. Utterly carnal.
Her fingers slid into the cool locks of his hair as he continued to her breasts. She groaned when his lips grazed a nipple. Then those lips wrapped around the peak and sucked before his tongue teased it.
She was gasping for breath at the pleasure that filled her. All the while, his hands roamed over her leisurely, learning every inch of her and leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
“Anson,” she whispered when he moved to her other breast and began to flick his tongue over the peak.
It wasn’t long before she was rocking her hips in need. She relished the thought of being so thoroughly under his control. Helpless.
Ensnared by his skill.
He was better than any fantasy she’d ever had—or ever would have. With her head moving side to side, she waited—breathlessly—for more.
As his lips trailed down her stomach and lower, she moaned at what was to come. He then lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder, exposing her sex. She kept expecting to feel his fingers or tongue on her. But there was nothing.
She opened her eyes and looked down to find him gazing up at her. The look of hunger, of need she saw there made her heart skip a beat.
But it was the unspoken promise that he wouldn’t stop until she was fully satisfied that had her panting.
Still holding her gaze, he blew on her sex. Her head dropped back as her eyes slid closed at the first touch of his mouth against her clit.
His masterful tongue danced over her sensitive bundle of nerves until her knee buckled. Strong arms were there to keep her upright. As if the knowledge that he had her on the brink spurred him on, he doubled his efforts.
She could picture every motion of his tongue against her clit, of his lower lip against her entrance. Electric currents of ecstasy blazed through her as she rapidly succumbed to his expert teasing. He brought her to the pinnacle of pleasure, only to stop right before she climaxed.
She was so trapped in her need to orgasm that she couldn’t form words. Then she felt his thick finger slip inside her, stroking slowly, confidently.
Going deep before using short thrusts that barely entered her. Every movement drawing her desire tighter and higher. She was shaking with need. A plea on her lips was never voiced because he kept her drowning in pleasure.
Once more, he brought her to the edge, only to refuse her release.
Her only thought was Anson. His touch, his taste. His body. She was trembling when he set her leg down, but not once did he relinquish his hold on her. He supported her even as he straightened.
She forced her eyes open to look at him. His jaw was clenched, showing he longed for release as much as she did. The knowledge that he was prolonging it for both of them made the flames of desire grow.
His hands cupped her butt before slipping beneath her and lifting her. He raised her high so that he had to look up at her. She gazed down at him, wondering at the attraction between them.
Her fingers lightly trailed down his cheek, feeling the stubble along his jaw. It was soon forgotten as he began to lower her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. Her lips parted when she felt the head of his cock brush against her sex.
Then he was filling her inch by incredible inch. As her body stretched, she gloried in the feel of him inside her. Once he was fully seated, he nipped at her earlobe.
“Devon,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning her neck.
Her name had never sounded so sexy. She wanted to ask him to say it again, every day for the rest of her life.
The first thrust of his hips halted any thoughts. She became centered on him, on their joined bodies. Time stood still in their bubble of ecstasy.
With the wall at her back, and his hands holding her, she was helpless to move as he plunged harder and deeper. No longer were they two people, but one.
One heartbeat.
One soul.
It frightened her, this connection she felt. But there was no way to stop it now—even if she wanted to. Everything about the past few days had been a roller coaster. The only thing that felt right, that felt good was him.
His strength, his masculinity brought out something primal within her. In his arms, she felt like the Amazon warrior she’d once pretended to be as a little girl.
“Look at me.”
As if she could resist such a demand. She opened her eyes and gazed into the blackness of his gaze. His orbs were fathomless, bottomless. She could sink into the obsidian depths and happily give herself—body, heart, and soul—to him.
Who was he to be able to consume her in such a way? He had filled her body and mind as easily as if he wielded some type of … magic.
As she fell into his gaze, she caught a glimpse of something. It was so fleeting, so transient, that she couldn’t put a name to it.
But one thing was for certain … he was much more than he claimed.
She could sense it within him. As their bodies joined, it flowed into her, as well. She was defenseless against the tide of power that flooded her and the satisfaction it gave her.
She delved her fingers into his long hair, and her body tightened right before pleasure erupted. Her lips parted, but the climax was so intense, the scream wa
s locked in her throat. She was seized, captured by the force of it, before she fell into an abyss as dark as night. Surrounded by Anson.
He filled her every pore, every thought. Every reason, every wish. The only thing that mattered was the one thing she could hold onto—Anson.
Just as she was coming down from such an unbelievable orgasm, he thrust deep and held still. Her breath left her in a rush as the climax built once more. Defenseless against the onslaught of such wicked pleasure, she could do nothing but let it engulf her.
The scream finally found its voice when he began to move within her once more. He pounded her hard and fast, sending her winding down into a void where nothing but decadence and indulgence reigned.
Unable to even hold her head up anymore, she inwardly smiled when he walked to the bed. There, he carefully placed her on her back. Her legs widened of their own accord, wanting and needing more of him.
He braced his hands on either side of her head and pulled out of her, only to twist his hips as he slid back in. Her eyes rolled back in her head.
How could she still want more after such a fulfilling climax? She arched her back when he filled her deeply. For the first time, she understood what an addict felt like because she was quite simply obsessed with Anson.
His hips moved faster as his cock pounded her relentlessly. She watched desire darken his gaze before it gave way to pleasure as he drove inside her one last time and held still. With his arms shaking, and their gazes locked together, she felt his seed fill her.
Only the sound of their harsh breaths filled the room until he lowered himself to his elbows before gathering her in his arms and rolling onto his back.
Even as he pulled out of her and the contentment of their joining enveloped her, she felt something nagging at the back of her mind.
It wasn’t until she was drifting off to sleep that she realized what it was—they hadn’t used any type of protection!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sweden
