Grigori

by Smith, Lauren

  “Yes. It was a collision, I guess. Their car rolled into a ditch. A nice woman saw the wreck and got me out of the car, but it was too late for my parents.”

  Grigori frowned. “You were orphaned so young . . .”

  She nodded. “I don’t really remember them, except sometimes I get these flashes—memories, I think, but I can’t be sure.”

  The rapid play of emotions on her face made his heart ache. She was so vulnerable and had suffered so much, yet here she was halfway around the world completely alone and chasing dragons.

  “What happened after the couple found you?” he asked tightening his hold on her.

  “The couple got attached to me and since no one could find any relatives, they were able to file for adoption to keep me out of the foster care system. So I became Madelyn Haynes. Since then I lived a completely normal life.” She emphasized the word normal with slight sarcasm.

  “You don’t like being normal?” He tried not to smile. She wasn’t normal. She was his mate, she was extraordinary but she didn’t know that yet.

  “Just growing up knowing they died . . .” Madelyn hesitated, as though weighing her words and embarrassed. “It sounds crazy but it’s made me afraid. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be safe. I didn’t want to ever do anything wild or fun or . . .” She trailed off, her face darkening with a blush that he could just make out in the dim light from the hallway.

  “Nothing about you is normal,” Grigori said. “You’re in bed with a Barinov dragon.” He winked at her, winning a smile from her.

  He sensed that if he tried to delve any deeper into her mysteries, she would close up. What little she’d spoken of tonight, the tragedies of her past, had been enough for now. Anything he could have, any bit of her she would give him, he wanted to take greedily, hoarding kisses, hoarding knowledge of the secret parts of her heart. Grigori wanted it all. Rurik was right . . . his heart was in charge, and he didn’t know how to stop from falling for her now that he knew she could be his mate. Damn . . .

  “I certainly hadn’t expected all of this . . . or you . . . when I caught a flight to Moscow.” She then seemed to realize that she was cuddled close to him, and she tensed. He held one arm around her for a moment longer, determined to show her that he would never hurt her. A dragon’s duty to his mate was to care for her, comfort her, and never hurt her.

  I have to win her trust. Show her that I can help her.

  Frustrated, he bit his lip, and then inspiration struck as he stared at the rain outside.

  “Come, let me show you something.” He helped her out of the bed and led her to the tall windows where they could see the storm clouds on the horizon. She watched him, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. He placed his palms flat on the window and met her gaze.

  “You don’t like rain, but what about . . . snow?” The wet glass around his palm crystallized and Madelyn gasped. Beyond the window his magic spread, sinking into the clouds above, turning every raindrop to a snowflake.

  “You really are an ice dragon.” Her hushed tone was reverent.

  His lips twitched. “You have been reading more of Barrow’s book.” Just as he’d wanted. If she was to understand him and to trust him, Barrow’s frank observations about him and brothers and their dragon sides would give her more than she could wish to know.

  “I couldn’t help it, it’s fascinating. You are fascinating.” She blushed again, but there was no shame in her response this time.

  “Will I ever get to see you transform?” she asked.

  “Perhaps. It can be dangerous. We become so large and rarely have enough room to move. It would have to be out in the wilds of Russia.”

  “Can we go there soon?”

  “You want to leave Moscow?” He thought he’d have to beg her to go home with him.

  “Well, it seems a little silly to stay here digging through libraries when you can answer all my questions.”

  That stopped him cold. Her research. How had he forgotten that little, yet very dangerous fact?

  “Madelyn, you can’t write your paper. Not if you write about me and my brothers. You have to promise me that.”

  She considered it, the nodded. “No one would believe me anyway. It’s just . . .” her face fell.

  “What?” He dropped his palms from the window and gripped her hips, trying to quell the possessive need in him to keep holding her as close as he could.

  “I have to write something. If I don’t, I’ll lose my professor position.”

  He didn’t have a solution for that, but if he claimed her as his mate, she wouldn’t need to return to work. She’d stay here with him in Russia. His family’s wealth was vast, and she would have no need to survive on her meager salary.

  “Perhaps we can find a way for you to write a paper, but leave out the parts about living, breathing dragons.” He would think on it. This was important to her, so it was important to him.

  “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? I’m so sorry I woke you with my . . .” she asked, curling her arms around herself as she seemed to realize once again they were in a dark bedroom together.

  “I was reading. I can’t rest when I know I’m dealing with the Drakors tomorrow.”

  She sighed, the sound burdened with sorrow. “I can’t get back to sleep after the nightmares. I usually just wake up and start working.”

  Grigori frowned. His mate would need rest and he had no intention of letting her exhaust herself.

  “Why don’t you get in bed and I will hold you until you fall asleep.”

  She wrinkled her nose as she considered his suggestion.

  “Please, Madelyn. I cannot rest until you do and I find am facing a very angry dragon tomorrow. Holding you would put me more at ease.”

  “You dragons do like to hold onto things don’t you?” She was teasing him, but he didn’t miss the curiosity behind her words.

  “It’s in our nature to hoard and hold onto things we crave.” He stared deep into her eyes, their bodies close enough that she shivered and he could feel the little wave of her energy pass into him where he still held her hips. Gods, he did crave her. From the moment he caught her scent lingering in pages of Barrow’s book, his hunger for her had caught fire and was building steadily every minute. Soon he would be unable to resist the natural demands of his body and his dragon, and he would claim her.

  Soon . . .

  With a resigned sigh she got back under the covers and he climbed in bed beside her tucking her against his chest. The moment their bodies touched a complete sense of peace, and infinite tranquility filled him. Every tense muscle in his body relaxed.

  “Can I go with you tomorrow? To meet Dimitri Drakor?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

  He had no intention of letting her out of his sight and was glad to hear she wanted to come with him.

  “It will be incredibly dangerous, but I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

  “Why not? Because you think I’ll escape?” she asked, tilting her head to study him.

  “No,” he sighed. “Because my home isn’t safe for anything I care about when I’m not here. I’d rather have you be where I can protect you even if that means you’re closer to Drakor that I would like.”

  He brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. Her eyes were closed and he lost himself in counting the dark lashes that fanned out across her cheeks.

  “Why do I like you?” she murmured and nuzzled his shoulder. “I never like . . .” Her voice trailed off into a dreamy whisper.

  He desperately want to know what she’d been about to say but he was not going to rush her just when she fallen asleep in his arms. A quiet euphoria gripped him. This was his mate and he’d been able to comfort her when she needed it the most. His mother would have been proud.

  She had always believed in the destiny of mates, but Grigori had rarely listened to her when she spoke up about love and lifetimes. He’d been a younger dragon, bent on satisfying lusts. Spending several millennia with one female had sounded terri
ble a thousand years ago. But now, with Madelyn in his arms, he knew that he had but a handful of decades to learn everything about her and love her before she had to leave him. The dragon inside him let out a silent cry that reverberated deep in his bones. Facing her mortality meant facing his own. The only other time he had done that was the day his parents died two decades before.

  His father, while not a battle dragon, had been driven by need to kill the last of the creatures that could harm the dragons, a breed of bird called the thunderbird. They were immortal, much like dragons, but also like dragons they lived their lives as humans. They could shift into large red and gold birds with wings of fire and a tail that fanned out throwing lightning. They were cousins to phoenixes, but unlike a phoenix, they could be killed.

  Grigori’s great-grandfather had perished at the hands of a thunderbird in 872 A.D. Thus Grigori’s father had begun a lifelong crusade to wipe out the thunderbird species, a crusade that had killed him and their mother.

  Grigori buried his nose in the crown of Madelyn’s hair, startled when he caught the scent of rain upon her. Nothing else in the room smelled of rain, but she did. Something in the back of his mind stirred but he could not draw the thought out into the light to see it. He turned his gaze to the window, watching the snowflakes swirl against the frosted glass panes. He tried not to think about tomorrow or the fact that he might die at the hands of a Drakor and never have the chance to claim his mate.

  * * *

  Madelyn woke slowly, bit by bit, stretching the muscles here and there and enjoying the warmth of the bed she was laying in and the hard body that she was half sprawled out on.

  Hard body . . .

  She tensed and opened one eye to peek at the man in the bed with her as memories of last night came flooding back. She’d had a terrible nightmare, and then Grigori Barinov had made it snow and held her until she fell asleep. She wasn’t sure what shocked her more, having fallen asleep with a stranger after her nightmares, or that she watched him take a vast thunderstorm over Moscow and make it snow.

  Just for me.

  A smile curved her lips and she tried to hide it. Men didn’t even open doors for her, but this man had made it snow. It was the most romantic thing that ever happened to her.

  She enjoyed her moment to study him. The sensual lips and pale gold brows. He was gorgeous. She knew she kept thinking about it, but damn, he was beautiful. It almost hurt to look at him.

  One of his arms curled around her waist. The other lay against his stomach. The tattoo on his forearm was in open view and she examined it. The tattoo was stunning. More symbolic of a dragon than lifelike, she could see the dragon was clearly in a curled position. One of its eyes was closed, but the other was open and fixed on her. Her attention turned to the signet ring on his hand. The serpent biting its tail. A symbol for eternity. The ouroboros. The jeweled eyes of the serpent were made of tiny bright sapphires.

  “Did you rest well?” Madelyn jumped at the sound of his voice, her body clashing against the arm wrapped around her waist. Her eyes flew to his and her knees weakened at the sight of his soft, indulgent smile.

  “Er . . . yes.” She stammered, trying not to think of how many women over the countless years he’d seduced with a look. It was a look that promised whispers in the dark, glittering jewels and naked bodies entwined on beds of furs. But when she looked at him she could see a future unfurling like a new flower, a future that his bright gleaming eyes and strong hands hinted at as they held her captive against him in bed.

  “Good.” He suddenly flipped them so she lay beneath him on the bed. A gasp escaped her and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

  “What are you—”

  With a wicked smile he dipped his head to hers. The kiss burned and sizzled, sparking part of her to life that she hadn’t even known existed. It seemed in the last day her body had completely changed inside, making her aware that she wasn’t as in control of herself as she’d always believed. She should not be turned on by a stranger’s kiss, but she was.

  Oh yes, hell yes. She tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but he caught her wrists and pinned them into the bed on either side of her head. His large, strong hands curled around her wrists, making her feel small, helpless . . . She strained against the hold, struggling just enough to test his power.

  His blue eyes flashed with molten fire. “My bed, my woman,” he purred in a low seductive rumble that seemed to ripple through her entire body. She was hyper-aware of him, from the wisps of his hair brushing against her neck as he nuzzled her throat to the scrape of the faint shadow of a golden-brown beard along his jaw. He may have worn an expensive suit and looked like an Armani model, but he acted like an ancient warrior—one who took what he wanted. God help her, she liked it.

  His natural dominance frustrated and aroused her at the same time. She should have been scared, kissing a stranger in a foreign city in his bed. But bit by bit, Grigori was becoming less a stranger to her.

  He tugged on her bottom lip. The weight of his body on hers was thrilling and yet she felt safe. How was that possible? She’d never had sex before, had never been all that interested in the whole idea of sex, but right now all she could think about was having him take her and make love to her, wildly, roughly. Her body was in total overload with all of the sensations and new hungers.

  “I can feel you thinking.” He teased before he moved his lips in a trail of kisses down her neck.

  “Not thinking,” she panted. “I promise.” She rolled her hips, inviting him to lay deeper into the cradle of her thighs. It was time to get rid of that pesky virginity.

  Grigori’s warm laughter on her neck made her quiver. He lifted his head, their gazes locked. His body still trapped hers, his hand still holding her wrists captive.

  “I have so little control around you,” he whispered.

  “Is that a bad thing?” she asked, loving the way his lips twitched. He was trying not to smile and for some reason she adored that. It was a challenge. What could she do to make him lose that control and grin at her?

  “It can be. You are untouched and I might be too rough.”

  Every muscle in her tensed, her body going rigid. “You, you know that I’m a . . .” the word failed to come out.

  “A virgin? Yes.” His eyes hardened and he frowned.

  Suddenly she couldn’t breathe, her lungs seized in panic and she struggled. How did he know? How the hell could he know she was a virgin?

  “Let go of me,” she demanded.

  Grigori slid off her at once, as though he’d expected this.

  She grabbed the top blanket off the bed and dragged it around her like a protective shield. Being a virgin had not been something she wanted him to know. Didn’t it freak out guys to be with a virgin? That’s what she’d heard, anyway. And just how had he figured it out? Was she a bad kisser? Was it because he was a dragon? Had he sensed something or was she acting like a virgin? Maybe she . . .

  “Madelyn, do not be angry with me.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not. It’s just . . . How did you know?”

  He slowly skirted the bed and when she retreated, he paused leaning against the nearest bedpost, his blue eyes changing to liquid amber.

  “Your scent. It’s like a potent aphrodisiac.” He licked his lips, the action seductive and a little frightening.

  “My scent?” She kept the blanket wrapped around her and continued to retreat until her back bumped into the wall.

  Grigori smiled crookedly as he seemed to realize he had effectively cornered her.

  “It’s like Georgian wine with a hint of berries . . . and rain.”

  Madelyn stared at him, trying to process that before she lifted a lock of her hair up and took a sniff. Nothing but a faint scent of the shampoo she’d used a day ago. She didn’t smell like a thing. He was creeping closer, his long elegant fingers trailing along the bedspread and she was momentarily distracted by imagining those fingertips gliding along her skin, sliding in
to her. Her body quivered with new hungers and Grigori’s nostrils flared.

  “It’s almost impossible not to touch you. From the first moment I picked up Barrow’s book back at the Russian State Library your scent has been torturing me with its sweetness. Madelyn,” he growled her name in a subtle warning.

  “My sc—scent?” She couldn’t believe she’d stuttered. It wasn’t like her at all, but neither was she the type to tremble and quake at a man’s touch, let alone a scorching look. Not that she’d honestly had much experience with men sending scorching looks her way.

  “You know a fair bit about dragon mythology, don’t you?” he asked, taking one step closer.

  She nodded, suspicious.

  “And what do dragons love to eat?”

  The moment she realized the answer, Grigori’s wicked grin grew.

  She didn’t stutter this time, but her heart was pounding wildly.

  “Virgins . . .”

  Chapter 8

  Happiness is like those palaces on an enchanted island, its gates guarded by dragons. One must fight to gain it.

  —Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

  Grigori closed the distance between them. “There is more than one way to devour a woman.” He pressed her back against the wall, one hand gripping her hip, the other caressing her throat, possessive but not threatening as he tilted her head back.

  Her body flashed with blazing heat as he kissed her neck, her throat, and nipped at her ear. His other hand slid around between their bodies dipping below the waistband of her pajamas and panties. Her womb throbbed in anticipation and her legs trembled. His fingers feathered over her mound, then reached the sensitive pearl of her clit and teased it. Madelyn’s knees buckled and she fought to stay standing.

  “Do you want me to devour you?” Grigori’s husky whisper made her whimper and push her hips against his hand as he parted the folds of her sex to penetrate her with a finger. “Well, do you?” he chuckled darkly as he bit her earlobe again.

  She did, God, she did. He eased a single finger out of her, still teasing her.