by Deanna Chase
“Ooh, that sssoundsss good.”
“Are you a…friend of Daman’s?”
“Are you?” the serpent countered, its beady black eyes following her spoon as she stirred.
“Am I what?”
“Daman’sss friend?”
“I…” Maribel paused and cleared her throat, firmly shoving away the memory of Daman’s fingers sliding over her skin and her subsequent perusal of his body. His naked body. She tightened her grip on the spoon. Stop thinking about that! “We haven’t known one another long,” she managed finally.
“You ssseemed clossse.”
Maribel tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot and set it on the butcher block. The snake lowered its head as if intending to lick the spoon and she twitched and jerked it out of the way. She pressed her lips into a disapproving line and deliberately put the spoon on the other side of the stove.
“I don’t know what you think you saw, but it was nothing. I burned myself and Daman was…helping me.”
“But you do like him?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Maribel sputtered. She crossed her arms. “Honestly, I’m having trouble making up my mind. He has rather pronounced mood swings, if you must know, and I’m not sure I care for him when his temper gets the better of him.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What do you care?”
“Jussst making sssure everything isss going according to plan.”
“Plan?” Maribel tensed, dropping her arms to her sides. “What plan?”
“I don’t like to tell everything at onccce,” the snake said casually. “It makesss it difficult to know.”
“To know what?”
“If thingsss happened naturally or if you forccced them to happen.”
“Ohhhh,” Maribel breathed. “You’re talking about his curse.”
The snake lifted its head higher, and if it’d had ears, they would have perked up. “You know about hisss curssse?”
“Yes. Mother Briar told me about it.”
“Ssshe would know,” the snake agreed.
Maribel shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what your stake is in all of this, but I’m not here to fall in love with a perfect stranger.” The words tasted odd on her tongue and for a moment she felt foolish.
The snake blinked. “Did you sssay fall in love?”
“I know that’s how to break the curse, but love doesn’t happen like that.” Maribel slanted a glance at the doorway Daman must have left through. Part of her wished he was standing there. “Besides, so far we don’t seem very compatible.”
“Are you talking about the mating assspect?”
Maribel nearly swallowed her tongue as she whipped her head around to gape at the snake. The serpent still sat there calmly, its body coiled in a pile on the butcher’s block.
“What did you say?”
“The mating assspect,” the snake repeated slowly. “You sssaid you weren’t compatible. Did you mean—”
“No!” The heat rushing to her cheeks was making Maribel’s head spin and she half-stumbled across the kitchen to fall into a chair. “I most certainly didn’t mean—”
“Becaussse you don’t have anything to worry about there,” the snake continued. “Even if he doesssn’t break the curssse, he isss fully capable—”
“If you finish that sentence, I’ll make you sorry you ever sat down on a butcher’s block,” Maribel choked.
The little snake froze, then glanced down at where it was sitting, seeming to notice the large butcher’s knife for the first time.
“Interesssting.”
Maribel covered her face with her hands, mortified as her mind followed the path the snake had started down with its outrageous insinuation. She hadn’t thought about it—of course she hadn’t thought about it. He’d basically taken her prisoner, he’d threatened her father, insulted her sister… He was half snake, for goodness’ sakes!
Not snake. Wyvern.
She paused, realizing that she wasn’t entirely certain what a wyvern was, and this talking, fire-breathing snake might be her chance to ask without having another awkward conversation with Daman. It would also change the subject.
She opened her mouth to form the question, but when her gaze landed on the butcher’s block, the serpent was gone.
“Must be a reptile thing,” she muttered.
Chapter Seven
Daman leaned against the edge of the lake, lashing his tail lazily back and forth through the water. Ripples flowed out from him, soothing in their graceful outward path, the way they kissed the shore and disappeared. The water was haunted with the memory of winter, but the sapphire depths held no chill for him. His scales were thick, his body easily able to adapt to changes in temperature…and his blood was still overly warm from the pleasant sensation of Maribel’s skin under his fingers.
He lifted his hand out of the lake, fat droplets of water falling from his fingers. He imagined he could still see the honey even though it had been hours since he’d washed it away. Maribel hadn’t recoiled from his touch, hadn’t flinched or shied away from him. She was still very nervous around him, even after being at his house for over two weeks, but he was starting to wonder…
“Fool.” He slapped at the water, sending a glittering arc through the air. “You are far too old for such self-delusion.”
And it had to be delusion. The way Maribel’s breath had come faster as their eyes had met—that all came from nerves. What woman wouldn’t be anxious around a beast such as himself? He wasn’t even a naga anymore. His temper had pushed him from the ranks of his noble kin, barricaded him behind bars of his own creation. He was a danger to anyone who came near him, and he’d been a fool to keep Maribel close. He had to send her away.
It didn’t matter that his temper tantrums had been limited to harsh words and admittedly inexcusable rudeness. It didn’t matter if her touch calmed him. It didn’t matter if seeing the flush on her face, the pink tint flowing down her neck and below her dress, had stirred a heat inside of him that had nothing to do with his temper.
“Daman?”
The sound of her voice tore his attention from the water so quickly that he had no idea what was showing in his eyes, what emotion he hadn’t had time to wipe away. Whatever it was, it robbed Maribel of her words, left her standing on the shore of the lake with wide eyes. He wanted to say something, ease the tension, but no words would come. His brain was far too occupied with how her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, how her breathing was hard enough to make her chest rise and fall in the most…distracting manner.
“The… The stew is done. I thought you might like to come inside and eat.”
Her voice was more breath than tone, though if that was because of the trek to the lake from the manor or something else, he couldn’t be sure. He blinked, surprised to find the sun so low in the sky. Had he truly been lounging in the lake for the entire day? Had he lost himself so completely in his thoughts?
Again he tried to speak, but no words would come. Part of him was afraid to speak, afraid that he would say something to make her leave. He tried to hide his awkwardness with motion, swimming across the small lake to the opposite side where she stood. She watched him swim as if mesmerized, her gaze flicking to his tail, following it up his body to his bare back. Something warm stirred inside him at the way she didn’t run, but simply stood there with that…intensity in her eyes.
Waiting for him.
A desire that hadn’t stirred inside of him for years, even before he’d been cursed, filled him with wild energy, buzzing over his nerves, invigorating his blood. He met her eyes, holding her gaze as he emerged from the water. The delicate skin at her throat fluttered with a rapid pulse, her chest rising and falling faster. His scales slid easily over the wet grass, bringing him closer to her. For the first time, he moved without self-consciousness, without concentrating on what her reaction might be.
Her entire face tensed, her eyes suddenly firmly fixed on his face in an obvious attempt not to stare. A famil
iar flicker of temper threatened to draw his face into a scowl, but he batted it away. Not now, he would not lose his temper now. Not over something so insignificant. Not in the midst of these other feelings, other emotions, tempting him with the promise of something…more.
He stopped less than a foot away from her. “How is your arm?”
Maribel blinked at that, though she still didn’t take her gaze from his face. “Better, thank you.”
Her voice was breathy and higher than normal. It was a balm to the masculine pride that had suffered along with his cause this past year. Daman kept his eyes on hers as he took her arm. She didn’t fight him, allowed him to raise it to examine the wound. His fingers slowly curled around her biceps as his other hand held hers. The burn was still an angry shade of red, but the skin wasn’t blistering or broken. He imagined it was painful, but she would be fine.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.” He spoke partly to reassure her and partly to distract himself from the thoughts taking root in his mind. Apparently even a day spent in an icy lake was not enough to cool what had started to burn between them earlier. He was already holding her arm. Her soft, supple, delicate arm. It would be so easy to slide a hand around her waist, pull her to him. It had been so long since he’d been around anyone, so long since he’d basked in body heat like hers. Even longer since he’d wanted to…
A tiny voice in his head screamed that there was a very good reason it had been that long, but he shut it out. The sensations running through his body were too delicious, the vibration of her thundering heartbeat too mesmerizing to stop now.
“No, it’s all right. You don’t make me nervous,” she protested.
He couldn’t help the quirk of his mouth, the outward betrayal of his amusement. “Liar.”
A spark flared in her eyes. “What you call nervousness is no more than a perfectly normal reaction for a lady when her male host stands so close to her—naked.”
His eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true, but he hadn’t thought she had it in her to bring up that particular subject. But was it a complaint? He pressed his lips together for a moment, firmly resisting the urge to slide his tongue from his mouth to taste the air. He so desperately wanted to know if her heartbeat was thundering from fear…or something else.
“Draconic anatomy is an oddly dignified thing.” He kept his focus on her face, searching her features for hints to her thoughts. “Clothing is largely ornamental, even in mixed company. Unless of course you continue gawking at me like that, standing so close—”
The slap caught him completely off guard. His cheek stung where her hand had connected with his flesh, a warm throbbing that didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had surprised him. He let go of her arm and she took advantage of his distraction and whirled around to stalk back in the direction of the manor.
He moved before his brain could process what he was doing. In seconds he was in front of her, her body flinching backwards, startled by his sudden movement. She opened her mouth on a gasp as she stumbled and nearly fell. Daman grabbed her around her waist and jerked her against him to keep her from falling. Warm flesh met scales that still held the chill of the lake. She shrieked and he had to tighten his grip to keep her from leaping away and falling over again.
“Hold still or you’ll fall and break something,” he ground out, his brain still trying to catch up with what had happened. “I’ll let you go as soon as you’re calm.”
Maribel went completely still in his arms, her lips pressed in a line so tight they’d gone white. Fury sparked in her eyes, making them flash like the center of a raging bonfire.
She’s even more beautiful when she’s angry, he thought, reluctantly releasing her. He expected her to scramble away from him, but she flitted away just long enough to grab a large, broken tree branch from the ground. She brandished it like a club, eyes hot enough to burn. Furious.
“I don’t know why you want me here,” she ground out, her voice only trembling slightly. She pointed the makeshift weapon at him. “But if you think I’m going to warm your bed—”
“Warm my…” Daman sputtered.
His own temper flared to life and he streaked forward as fast as his coils could launch him. The rough surface of her club dug into his palm as he closed his fingers around it and tore it out of her hands. Her scent teased his nose, a mouth-watering bouquet of vegetables and spices—the stew she’d made. He hesitated, remembering why she’d come out here.
“Perhaps we could start over. Get to know one another over dinner.”
Maribel released the branch with a pained yelp that was quickly followed by an angry shout. Daman tensed, his focus sharply returning to the present. His temper still scratched along the inside of his skull, riled by Maribel’s insinuation. He clenched his teeth and backed away, holding the branch up between them. He snapped it with one quick tug, exerting no more effort than it would have taken to break a toothpick.
Maribel flinched at the sharp crack that shattered the silence, but she didn’t retreat and she didn’t quit glaring at him. In some part of his mind, Daman was aware that her lack of fear should have comforted him. Instead, it only made him angrier.
“I have never suggested such a thing—nor would I.” He hurled the broken pieces of wood away from him. “A monster I may be, but I assure you I have not grown so desperate for female company that I would drag an unwilling maiden into my bed.” He turned away from her, not trusting what his face might reveal of the emotions roiling inside of him. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Other than my freedom,” Maribel bit out.
Tension sang through his muscles, pulling them taut. Now. Now was the opening he’d been waiting for, the time to tell her she could go home. He should release her from the bargain she’d struck on her father’s behalf, pack another trunk full of treasure, and send her back to her family.
“Yes. Except that.”
Again, the words flowed from his mouth without permission, coming from the very depths of his being, a place far from wherever good intentions originated.
If he’d had any sense, he’d have used his superior speed to get back to the manor before she could respond. The dinner that had been supposed to give them a fresh start seemed highly unlikely now, and the gods only knew what other words were waiting on his tongue, ready to fly off without any acquiescence on his part. Why he faced her again he didn’t know. Certainly it wasn’t to see her face, to read her expression. It wasn’t some deep need to see what her reaction was to being told she still had to stay.
Maribel stuck her chin out and crossed her arms. The tempting curves of her breasts were shown in a most flattering manner by the stance, but the agitation sparking in the air around them was far too stifling to allow that thought to proceed very far. The way Maribel planted her feet and straightened her spine did not bode well.
“I know you need someone to fall in love with you to break your curse,” she told him, only a slight waver in her voice betraying her nerves. “But if this is your way of going about it, then you’re dooming yourself.”
He’d been prepared for a lot of things, but that hadn’t been one of them.
The flame of his temper died under a flood of confusion. Daman’s lips parted, eyebrows knitting together until his forehead ached. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but words failed him.
“Fall in love?” he echoed finally. “Who…?”
“It doesn’t matter how I know,” Maribel rushed to add. Her cheeks grew redder by the second. “The point is, I know.”
Daman tapped a claw against his scales, mind working furiously to figure out what the blazes she was talking about. What lies had the witch told her sister? Was this how she’d convinced Maribel to come in her place? Had she filled her head with stories of a beast who could be changed into a prince if only a woman would fall in love with him? Did Maribel envision herself as the future mistress of his manor as well?
That last though
t cut too deep. Daman swore at himself, furious he’d once again missed what was right in front of him. Of course there had been a reason Maribel had agreed to stay. Whether she’d been manipulated into coming here by her sister for Corrine’s own purposes, or she’d come here with her own grand plan, Daman promised himself he’d have no part of it. And to think he’d…
“My curse can be lifted at the witch’s will, not by any…emotional pity you might try to bestow upon me,” he said stiffly. “Trust me when I say, I have no designs on either your body or your heart. You may rest easy on that score.”
The flash of hurt on Maribel’s face was a trick of his mind, a cruel prank. If she felt anything, it was probably disappointment that her task would be harder than she’d anticipated.
“Well I’m certainly relieved to hear that,” she shot back.
Her voice lacked the venom the statement called for, but Daman assured himself he heard no disappointment in her tone. Still, there was no point in continuing this ire. There was still a possibility that Maribel was an innocent changeling, a victim of her sister’s machinations. And if that were the case, Daman had a duty to her, a duty that should mean more to him than his own petty fears and pride.
“Now that that’s been cleared up,” he managed, keeping his voice calm. “I suggest we put it all behind us and go back to the house to partake of the lovely meal you’ve worked so hard on.”
“Typical male.” Maribel snatched up a leaf that her broken branch had lost upon its death. “You insult me as much as possible and then invite yourself to share in the meal I cooked.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Again.”
“The meal you made with my food.” Daman plucked the leaf from her hand. “It would be most impressive if you could keep me from it.”
