Cohen

by Emilia Hartley

  ***

  Gwen was shoving her meager belongings into bags, trying to ignore the ache in her heart over her lost cards, when she heard a soft knock on her door. Her head shot up. No one knew where she lived. It could be someone asking her to move the car parked out front again, a car that was not hers.

  She looked back to the bags that were nearly bursting. Leaving was her top priority right then. Especially when there was a dragon in her town. The knock came again, a little louder this time. Gwen bit her lower lip and turned toward the incessant visitor. The sooner she could turn them away, the sooner she could leave.

  Beside the door, Gwen touched her finger to the chicken foot shaped sigil carved into the cheap wood. Her magic flowed around her and sank into the sigil. It was a kind of warding, casting a protective veil over the doorframe that wouldn’t allow anyone with malicious intent to cross into her home.

  Feeling a bit safer, she opened the door. Her heart shuddered. The handsome dragon man smiled down at her on the other side of her doorframe. His hand reached into his pocket and she thought her heart might stop. Her magic gathered around her, a spell hung ready on her lips. But, what his hand pulled from the pocket made the words die in her mouth.

  Her cards.

  “You left so quickly you forgot these,” he said, sweetly. “Were you so excited for our date that you rushed home to change?”

  His eyes moved past her and she could see the moment that he realized she was running. His eyes flicked back to hers, solemn now.

  “You were going to leave without even a goodbye?”

  “Yes,” she said boldly. She stood her ground, knowing what she was dealing with now. He wouldn’t be able to walk past the veil of magic that stood between them. All she had to do was get rid of him.

  The only problem was that her body didn’t agree with her mind. It ached for her to reach out and brush her fingers against his as she reclaimed her lost cards, if only to see how his skin would feel. It ached to reach out and push the fallen strands of red hair away from his face.

  Shit, what was wrong with her? Did she have a death wish? Did she want to be a dragon’s plaything again?

  No. She wouldn’t let it happen. She carefully snatched the offered cards from his hand. “I forgot that I have an appointment out of town. I can’t make the date tonight.”

  There was no sound of true apology in her voice. She wasn’t sorry. She was surviving.

  “That’s a shame,” the dragon man claimed. “Maybe we can spend the night in, then.”

  His form pushed past her into her apartment. Her stomach dropped through the floor. Her spell should have kept him out. She should have been protected against him. Panic lurched through her body and her magic surged. The building shook around her. The dragon man’s head rose and his eyes met hers. An emotion passed through them. One that she’d never seen on a dragon’s face before.

  Guilt.

  ***

  His mouth flapped as he searched for words to explain. It wasn’t like Cameron could explain his mission to her. She was the mission. Yet, his beast was angry with him for causing the panic that they both saw on her face. He invaded her home and made her feel unsafe. His beast shamed him for his brash actions.

  He hoped his beast would understand that they needed to protect their family. If this witch could do that, then Cameron would do what he had to. Yet, even he knew scaring her wasn’t going to help.

  Cameron held his hands up, trying to look harmless. It was easy among his own family, but without bigger dragons like his brother nearby, he did cut an imposing figure.

  “Look,” he started. “I’m very sorry if I scared you. I’m acting a bit rashly because I saw a pretty woman and I thought I would miss my chance. Can you forgive an idiot?”

  A small laugh escaped her. Even she looked surprised by the sound.

  “Will you allow me to stay? Just for a short while? I’d like to prove that I’m worth the pain.”

  Her eyes moved toward her half-closed door and the sigil carved into the fake wood. He didn’t know what it did, but it seemed that he must have passed a kind of test because she turned back to him and gave a curt nod.

  “Stay,” she said softly, like her own body was betraying her. “You have three hours, dragon.”

  He carefully kept his jaw from dropping. It really was no surprise that the witch pegged him for what he really was. He knew that she had dealings with his kind before. Maybe not his family, but dragons were hard to miss.

  Cameron watched the witch move toward the plush couch, her thick hips swaying back and forth in a rhythm that seemed to hypnotize him. She spun and fell onto the cushion, her head tilting to the side and soft eyes rising to meet his.

  “How do you plan on impressing me, dragon man?”

  He didn’t know. She had his normally collected mind in a blender. His thoughts wouldn’t leave her thick hips or the soft curve of her neck as her hair fell away from it. His feet closed the distance between them and leaned over her, his hand gripping the back of the couch as his face hovered over hers. From there, the smell of herbs enveloped his senses. His eyes fell to her lips. They were plump and slightly parted with her surprise while she looked up at him with reservation.

  “I’m sure that I could find many ways to impress you,” he whispered into the small space between them.

  Her eyes narrowed in challenge. “I’ve had dragon before,” she said. “I’m no longer impressed with its flavor.”

  His beast rose, growling jealously. It surprised Cameron. The thought of this lithe, blonde witch laying with another dragon drove him mad. His hand tightened on the couch until he heard the wood frame beneath the upholstery groan. His hand snapped back and he straightened himself, surprised at his own behavior.

  Cameron was the voice of reason. He prided himself on being able to diffuse tense situations with his cool and collected behavior. He was the patient predator, content to wait in the brush until his prey let its guard down. The way he was acting now was so far out of character for him that he was thrown for a loop. He looked down at the witch with the false smugness painted across her face. He could smell that beneath her faux bravado was a layer of panic and fear.

  That made his beast angry. It made the creature want to curl around her protectively. Cameron had a moment where the world swayed around him and things started to come together. This couldn’t be what he thought it was. He had to be wrong.

  “Let me stay here. Let me prepare a meal for the two of us. I will impress you by earning your trust,” he said.

  Her eyebrow rose, high and elegant. It was clear that she didn’t think she was going to trust him anytime soon, but, if Cameron was right, she would have to learn far faster than either of them thought possible.

  “If you think that will happen in the span of a single night, then you have a quick lesson coming your way.”

  “I did return the cards you lost; did I not?” Cameron motioned towards the well-worn deck on the low table beside her. How long had she carried them? How many cities and towns had those cards served? “They look cherished and I didn’t want you to have to move on without something you must have carried with you for decades.”

  “What do you suggest we dine upon?” She asked as her fingers toyed with the hem of her long skirt. It had ridden up to reveal the smooth lines of her pale legs. He ached to reach down and run his hands up them, to feel the shape of them beneath his hands. That wouldn’t earn her trust, so he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I wasn’t prepared to eat in for two.”

  “Does that mean that you consent to this challenge?”

  She seemed to think about it from where she sat. Cameron wondered if she had magic wrapped around her fingers, prepared to strike if he moved too fast. He wondered who had hurt her to make her so wary, to make her run from city to city. It made his beast growl in anger.

  The witch sighed. “I guess it does.”

  Cameron tossed her a wink. “Then you have nothing to worry about. I’m
used to making something out of nothing.”

  Cameron retreated to the small kitchen area, trying to keep his face from betraying the whirlpool of emotions inside of him. The witch had been hurt by his kind, he suspected. It explained why she’d run from him so fast in the bookstore. It cut him deep to see her flinch away from him, to smell the fear that slowly drifted off her. His just being in her apartment made the scent of fear emanate off her at all times. It was more than his beast could bear.

  With his back carefully placed toward her, Cameron started to inspect the contents of her refrigerator. She was right when she said that she wasn’t expecting to feed anyone other than herself. The contraption was nearly devoid of food that could be put together in any fashion to make a meal. He found a couple blocks of cheese and some cured meats. He wondered if she snacked like a bird to keep the tiny frame she had.

  He wouldn’t mind more plushness if she wanted to eat more. He hated that women in this day and age deprived themselves of sustenance in the name of beauty. It was hazardous to their health more than it was their chances of being seen as beautiful.

  Cameron huffed at her lack of groceries before pulling out a triangle of parmesan cheese, a tub of marinated mozzarella balls, and the cured meats. Behind the mozzarella, there was a small jar of what he concluded was pesto that followed the meats and cheeses onto the counter. There was a long and thin baguette. Slicing the baguette into thin rounds and carefully arranging it with the meats and cheeses made for a snackable board.

  But, it was still missing something, he thought. There was still room on the board he’d arranged. It begged for something sweet.

  “There are strawberries on the counter,” the witch called, as if reading his mind.

  Cameron cast a suspicious glance in her direction. The tip of her thumb was placed seductively between her plump lips, her teeth nibbling nervously on the nail. It made Cameron’s heart thump with expectation. Blood rushed someplace that made him grateful there was a counter standing between the two of them. He spun away from her to search for the strawberries in question while his erection faded.

  There was, indeed, a basket of ripe strawberries beside the bread box. Beside it was a small tub of chocolate with melting instructions on the side. He smiled. The strawberries and a few handfuls of grapes that he found were added to the wooden board while he figured out how to melt the dipping chocolate.

  He would see that she would get a chocolate covered strawberry between those heavenly lips by the end of the night and it would be his hand feeding it to her. The thought made his jeans uncomfortable again and he swore softly. How was he going to make it through the night without scaring the witch away?

  She was supposed to be a force to be reckoned with, the power that was going to save his family, but she cowered and ran at the sight of a dragon. His beast wanted to protect the small woman, but she was not what Drystan had asked for.

  As he turned, wooden board in hand, he knew that he was going to take her back to the Territory with him. That was where he could keep her safe. Part of him wondered if Drystan had known this would happen. He wondered if the man had a kind of sixth sense or if this was a circumstance of pure luck.

  It didn’t matter what it was as Cameron looked down at the woman that was his mate. She had to be. What his brother described when he was near Rhiannon, it felt so much like what rushed over him when he looked upon the witch. He didn’t know what deed he had done to deserve her, but she was his and he would do anything to keep her safe from whatever it was that caused the fear inside of her.

  He set the wooden board down on the low-lying table, carefully sitting himself on the floor so that it sat between them. He wanted to plant himself firmly on the couch beside her so that his hands could travel up the bare skin of her feet, but he knew better. He would be the patient predator in the brush and lure her in once her guard was down.

  She leaned forward, fingers claiming a small ball of marinated mozzarella before popping it between her lush lips. Cameron bit his tongue to keep from leaping over the table and claiming her lips. She drove him wild in ways that he never expected to happen.

  “Tell me,” she said, softly. “What brings a dragon to this small town? Last I knew, you were all contained within your territories.”

  Cameron nodded, his eyes on the food before him. He brought them up with a slight curve on his lips. “We get one night a month to seek out the comfort of a woman. I didn’t find what it was that I wanted in the city, so I decided to use my time to branch out.”

  Her cheeks reddened. “So, you came to rut,” she accused him.

  Chapter Five

  The man that carefully crafted a smorgasbord of food looked up at her as though he might eat her instead. The thought crossed her mind that it might not be that awful to let him, but she carefully reminded herself that messing with the affairs of dragons was not smart.

  The one sitting on her floor claimed to be there with the intent on seducing her. What else would he be doing in her small apartment on a rutting night? Dragon men were brimming with testosterone that made them fight and growl at everything if they didn’t put their cock in something every once in a while. Trapping them on the Territories hadn’t helped any of them find their mates, making them fuck much more selfishly. Knowing they weren’t going to find love between the legs of a one night stand, they took what they wanted and left.

  Gwen didn’t know if that would be such a bad thing as she let her eyes trail over the lines the dragon man managed to cut. He was broad shouldered in a way that made him seem almost lean while still having the bulk of a dragon. His posture was great for a barbarian, she noted. Especially as he looked up at her from beneath his coppery hair and stole the breath from her lungs.

  She could lay with this one for a night and then he would be gone by morning, leaving her alone to finally flee the fate that waited for her. She reached forward and plucked a red strawberry from the board, knowing full well that it would leave her lips stained a dark pink.

  She could play this game, too, she thought as his eyes followed the strawberry. There was a hunger in them that made her heart stutter. Fear spiked through her, but she kept it hidden.

  Maybe she couldn’t play this game, she realized. Hopefully, once he realized he might not get what he came for he would go looking for it in other places.

  Hopefully.

  “Is this your plan?” she asked. “You sit on my floor and watch me eat? This is not very entertaining.”

  He seemed to mull over her words, his eyes travelling over her apartment. Finally, his eyes seemed to catch something because he pushed himself up from the floor. She watched him pluck an acoustic guitar from the corner of the room. It was something that had come with the already furnished place. Yet, he sat himself at the end of the couch with the instrument in his lap, not once looking up at her as his fingers adjusted the strings.

  When his fingers finally played over the strings, the chord that spilled out seemed to move through her. It made her feel something, in the back of her throat, that she couldn’t quite define. The music that he played filled her. It made her want to lay back and close her eyes. They were drifting shut when she remembered that she was alone with a dragon.

  She had to keep her guard up. The magic that had faded at the beginning of his song returned to the tips of her fingers, ready to strike if need be. She couldn’t afford to let herself be tricked again. She knew that she was not the mate of any dragon. It wasn’t possible for a witch.

  Her legs stretched out, and against her better judgement, her toes touched his denim clad leg. She felt his body tense, a recognition of her touch, just for a moment. He barely missed a beat. His fingers continued to thrum the beat from the acoustic guitar. Gwen wondered what it was about this music that made her more daring. Was it the way that it hummed through her core and warmed things that had been cold for decades? Or, was it this mysterious man whose name she hadn’t even bothered to learn yet?

  It felt strangely m
ore intimate to know that he was a dragon than it would be to know his name. She pondered if he could tell what she was, smell the herb magic that ran through her veins or the ozone that clung to her hair from more immediate magic? She guessed that it would be hard to ignore with a dragon’s nose. He had to know that she was a witch, but whether or not he knew that she was the Witch of Caernarfon was another story altogether.

  His fingers stopped strumming. The music faded from the room and she looked up to meet his eyes. Her foot absently rubbed against the denim of his leg. She caught herself and forced her foot to still. His hand left the neck of the guitar and fell upon her bare leg. His skin was warm and softer than she imagined. It made her breath catch in her throat.

  He leaned toward her and she felt her heart quicken, but there was no cold spike of fear behind it. She only felt the warmth of blood rushing to her cheeks. But, just as she thought he would close in, he leaned to the side and his fingers quickly snatched several rolls of cured meat before he leaned back into the couch. His eyes watched her carefully as he bit into the cured meat.

  “Can I ask you what your name is? Or, is that a guarded secret like the rest of you?”

  She looked out the window, her fingers laying over her lips to chase away the desire to let words better kept silent pour out. Weaving secrets around herself was a habit from days of old and her life on the run, one that probably kept her alive. Yet, she almost felt compelled to spill all of them at this man’s feet.

  “Call me Gwen,” she told him, not looking away from the scene outside her window. Gwen was short for the full name that had been given to her upon birth, but it was always smarter to keep your true name a secret. Especially when one was a witch and knew the things that could happen when another knew your true name. “Should I continue to call you dragon man? Or, would you like another moniker?”