Holden's Mate

by Meg Ripley

  As slowly as he could force himself to go, he returned the way he’d come, back to his room. He opened the door and she jolted to a halt, eyes wide. The fear that had given way to her exhaustion had returned in full force, but it wasn’t quite the same now. It wasn’t just him that she feared.

  She spoke before he could inquire. “I don’t like boats,” she told him, the staccato beat of her heart telling him she was putting it mildly.

  Did her reason for not liking boats have anything to do with the dream she’d had? Could he really ask her without letting on that he’d been witness to the images in her head? Did he want to keep that from her? Was he going to go insane if one more question flitted through his mind? That one he could answer with a resounding yes.

  “Tell me about the ship,” he said, refusing to risk his sanity in order to question it out any further. And though he should be encouraging her to fear him, he couldn’t help but want to distract her.

  Her head shot up and she eyed him suspiciously. He just stood there, trying to look as innocuous as possible with the truth right there in his eyes—yes, he’d looked. She stared back, and he remembered with full force why he’d left her sleeping in the bedroom, why it was safer for her to fear him than to let her guard down.

  She took a tentative step toward him, and then another, ignoring her own trepidation. Her scent filled his nostrils and he resisted the urge to pull her hard against his body. She continued to close the distance until just a few inches remained between them and then reached out to him, laying her trembling hand against his jaw. His blood nearly boiled over at her touch and he struggled to keep the fire in his core from spreading outward. This wasn’t just dangerous; it was insane. He felt like a wild animal who’d been caged. But the cage wasn’t nearly strong enough to keep him imprisoned for long. At any moment, he would break free and wreak havoc on the beautiful victim in his path.

  Just as he was about to use what little restraint remaining to pull away, something changed. He could still see her standing there in front of him, and his body burned with desire, but just like when he’d touched her in her sleep, there was something else as well.

  He was looking out at the ocean, though he knew it more than he saw it. His obscure view barely topped the rails of the boat, and he realized he was seeing from her perspective, a little girl aboard a giant ship. The chaos and panic ran rampant around him and through him; the icy water reached nearly to his thighs.

  She screamed as she lost hold of the warm hand of the presence beside her. It was a man, a man she loved very much, and that bothered him until he realized the man was not a lover; he was her father. And then her other hand was empty, a hand that had been gripped tight in a woman’s grasp. Her mother. Both of her parents were gone, but where did they go?

  The little girl was silent now, but screams came from all around her. Icy teeth nipped at her skin all the way up to her child-sized ribs. It must be the water; it was freezing.

  In the next instant, she was on solid land. The screams had stopped and she was safe. But she was alone, despite the handful of people milling about her. Heartbreak and fear crashed over him like a tsunami.

  She pulled her hand away from his jaw and it all disappeared, leaving him with a strange mix of his own emotions and hers.

  “It takes some time to understand it and it’s usually not so clear.” She smiled tremulously, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She hadn’t shared her secret with anyone in a very long time, he was sure of it. It had taken a hell of a lot of courage to share it with him now, though he imagined she didn’t feel quite so abnormal when the man she was sharing it with happened to be a dragon.

  His mind called up an image she’d shown him and it all clicked. The way she could share what was in her soul; the young girl on dry land dressed in Edwardian style clothing; the men milling about her, dressed in sailor’s apparel he hadn’t seen in almost a century…

  So wrapped up in his body’s need for her, it had taken a moment to put it all together. Claire was anything but normal. She was incredible, and she seemed to have absolutely no idea what she really was.

  “I think I do understand, Claire.”

  But should he tell her what he knew? Was it really his place to tell her she hadn’t tapped into a tenth of what she was capable of?

  She was smiling up at him, her lips steady now, not quivering like they’d been. The rest of her was trembling though, and he didn’t know why until he saw the fire blazing hot in her eyes. She wasn’t trembling in fear; she was trembling in need. Red hot desire.

  Run! the rational part of his brain screamed. He couldn’t do this. He’d tried…and he’d come close to failing catastrophically the night before.

  But his arms were already around her, pulling her hard against him with a fierceness that forced the breath from her lungs. It didn’t seem to faze her. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers twining in the short hair at the back of his neck and then it wasn’t only his own desire he was feeling. Her arousal crashed over him, even more potent than the scent of her, which grew stronger every second, telling him she would already be wet for him.

  “Claire, you need to leave,” he whispered raggedly, but he’d already grabbed the neckline of her shirt. He couldn’t stop himself from tearing it down the center with a flick of his wrists.

  “I don’t want to leave, Noah,” she whispered back, undaunted by his fierce response. Her hands moved to his chest and her fingers brushed against the exposed flesh. Arousal shot through his body like bolts of lightning while the beast inside grew larger, its flames licking outward from his core.

  Hell, no. No. There was absolutely no way he could feel her fingers roaming and exploring, and keep even a tenuous grasp on himself. There were subtle differences between what happened when he touched her and when she touched him. When her fingers made contact with his flesh, it was as if he saw deeper, beyond what she was thinking or feeling, to what made up her very being. And that was just too god damned intoxicating. He didn’t know how he was going to do this as it was; he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do it drunk.

  He grabbed her wrists and whipped them behind her back, but the movement only served to press her satin-clad breasts against his chest. He could feel hard nipples teasing his flesh.

  Christ, the woman was driving him crazy without even trying. He needed to leave—walk, run, fly…it didn’t matter. He had to get away from her.

  But instead, he clasped both of her wrists in one hand and flicked her bra open with the other. Her breasts spilled out and his mouth watered in anticipation. He blazed a fast trail downward with his lips, latching onto one hard nipple.

  She yelped in response, and he cursed himself silently as he did his damnedest to try to ease off. But she thrust her chest forward, and he had no doubt about what it was she wanted. He could feel what it did to her; a wicked pleasure even she hadn’t known how much she responded to until that very moment. So, she liked it rough? Well, that was probably a damn good thing, he thought wryly as he sucked harder and grazed her with his teeth.

  The taste of her skin, her quiet, throaty moans, the scent of her arousal…he was losing ground every minute. The flames spread out further. He could feel them heating his shoulders and thighs from the inside. Every fiber of his being wanted her.

  He realized he’d gotten caught up in what he was doing and released his hold on her wrists when she leaned forward and grabbed the hem of his shirt. She whipped it upward before he could force himself to resist. And even worse, he released her nipple long enough for her to get the shirt off, but immediately realized his mistake when her fingers returned to graze down the length of his back.

  “Claire, stop,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

  Her fingers stilled, but didn’t move away, lying flat on his flesh instead.

  He tried to take a deep, calming breath, but it only enhanced her scent. A scent he wanted…needed.

  Without conscious thought, he tore off he
r skirt and the sexy thong beneath in an innate struggle to get to his goal. God damn she was beautiful. He wanted to stand back and look at her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to put any more distance between them than necessary.

  The tug on his fly alerted him to what she was up to just seconds later. His cock sprung free and the last thin barrier that had stood between them was gone.

  A gasp escaped her lips and she reached out tentatively, sliding down his long length.

  Something low rumbled in his chest—a growl or groan, even he didn’t know which one it was. With his last thread of self-control, he pulled away and grabbed her wrists once again, yanking them high above her head. He saw her flinch, and he knew he’d hurt her.

  Get a grip, he demanded of himself. He was always self-possessed, never out of control like this. He just needed to get a grip. So he breathed in deep, and regretted it. He tore his gaze away from her body, and realized his mistake too late. His eyes met hers, and even if their combined desire hadn’t been washing over him in tidal waves, he would have known exactly what she was feeling by the wildfire in her eyes. And she looked so god damned hot; her arms stretched above her head, her breasts thrust forward…

  He tried not to think about every wicked thing he wanted to do to her, but he was losing the struggle. He could feel the fire inside gaining more ground with every second that passed. His muscles shook with their effort to hold it back.

  “Claire…”

  “I want you, Noah,” she whispered, staring back at him with a certainty that made it abundantly clear she had no idea the danger she was in.

  No, this was just too god damned dangerous. He forced himself to take a single step back. If he could just put some distance between them, maybe he could find some thread of control.

  “Don’t you dare walk away,” she said, her eyes bright, and she lunged for him, stretching against her wrists bound against the wall, to press her lips hard against his.

  She couldn’t know what she was asking for; she just couldn’t. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t have stopped now if his life depended on it.

  He moved in fast, lifting her with his free arm and settling her over top of him. In the same breath, he thrust upward, pulling her down on him and driving home in one frenzied thrust. She cried out as she struggled against his hold on her wrists, and a jolt of guilt went through him. But oh fuck, god damn it, she was so tight. Her inner walls gripped him so snugly, it was the most exquisite thing he’d ever felt.

  And the connection between them had deepened; he could feel it all and he knew she couldn’t hold any of it back in that moment even if she wanted to. He could see the pleasure coursing through her from her throbbing bundle of nerves, and the ache caused by his cock stretching her. He could see her frenzied need to join him, and at the same time, her body’s need to adjust, to accommodate his girth.

  He gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain still, but too quickly he couldn’t wait any more. He needed to move, to fuck, to hear her scream in pleasure. He withdrew as slowly as he could and thrust back in, shaking with the effort it took not to increase his pace. Once…twice. By the third time, he was just about ready to snap. He couldn’t control his movements and the dragon burning inside at the same time. But she was ready. She wrapped her legs around his hips and began to move against him.

  He lunged for her mouth, capturing her already swollen lips and muffling her moans and breathless cries. But he didn’t want her erotic sounds muffled. He wanted to hear her, and so he released her lips, leaving a frantic trail of kisses down her jaw while he plunged in to the hilt over and over again, his pace increasing with every thrust. The world around them disappeared as he released her wrists, running his hands over every inch of soft skin he could reach. Nothing existed but her body and his; there was no scent but their combined arousal, no sounds outside of their labored breathing and her moans, growing louder every second. He could feel her climbing higher, and he knew it wouldn’t be long. She was almost there. He struggled to wait for her, the sheath of her warm flesh making it near impossible. Just a little longer…

  She clung to him, her nails digging deep into his shoulders and her legs wrapped tightly around his hips. They lost all sense of rhythm, frantic with deep need for one another. And then he felt it; he could feel the tightly wound coil spring loose inside her just seconds before she flung her head back against the wall and screamed as she contracted around his length. He followed her over the edge, thrusting in to the hilt one last time, coming deep inside her as lightning bolts of pleasure shot through his body.

  She collapsed against him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder while she drew in long, deep breaths. Aftershocks of a cataclysmic orgasm rippled through his body as he tilted her head and kissed her lips gently.

  It wasn’t over. It was far from over. He’d barely done more than whet his appetite for her, but he released her lips, trying to ignore the way his body was already revving up. New ripples of desire were making him hard again and he hadn’t even left her body yet. He’d thought that having his way with her would ease his overwhelming need, but it hadn’t even taken the edge off.

  But he had to give her a break. The strange connection made him keenly aware that while she was reeling pleasantly in the aftershocks of an earth-shattering orgasm, her body also ached from his rough ministrations. If he didn’t let her go now, he’d be fucking her senseless within seconds.

  Reluctantly, he withdrew from her body, the movement making him grit his teeth against the urge to plunge back in. But as he lowered her feet to the ground, her abdomen rubbed against his cock and her lips left feather-light kisses across the planes of his chest.

  He clenched his fists at his sides, but he knew there was no sense in fighting; the battle was already lost. It had been foolish to have thought otherwise. He reined it in long enough to grab her arms and move her backward toward the bed. That was the gentlemanly thing to do, wasn’t it? If he was going to fuck her senseless, at least let her lay down for it? He could feel that she wasn’t done with him either and he almost bent her over to take her right there. But he could also see the way his fingers digging into her arms hurt, and he did the only thing he could, pushing her away.

  She stumbled back two steps and the backs of her knees bumped against the low mattress. She lost her footing and sat down hard. He knew he should leave. It had been difficult enough to battle the beast for dominance once, but to continue to struggle was a dangerous game.

  Still, he crossed the distance in a single stride and towered over top of her, breathing deep, seeking some semblance of control. She reached out for his hand and it was comforting to see she was still completely engrossed, too, but at least for her, there was no way she could physically harm him.

  And then she swooped forward, using her hold on his hand as leverage, and took the tip of him in her mouth. Oh god, he was wrong. The effort to keep himself restrained scorched every fiber of his body. He was burning from the inside out in exquisite torture. His hands clenched—hell, every muscle in his body was clenched tight—against the desire to thrust forward, which he couldn’t do without forcing his cock down her throat.

  Thinking as fast as his muddled brain would allow, he opted for the lesser of two evils. He grabbed her arms and shoved her flat on her back, pulling her to the edge of the bed by her ankles. He lifted her ass up off the bed to meet him and drove in to the hilt. And he knew right then as her walls clenched him tight that twice would never be enough. Three times…four times…no.

  It would never be enough.

  6

  Claire felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her cheek, though she knew he wasn’t asleep. Every inch of her body ached, but she didn’t care. It was a miniscule price to pay for what she’d just experienced.

  The connection between them had eased some, as if it had revved up and relaxed along with their arousal. It was far from gone though, the same way the desire for one another had far from dis
sipated. Just a few moments of calm, like a smoldering fire in the minutes before a new breath of oxygen brings it to full blaze once again.

  It was different now, though; clearer. From the first time he’d touched her, it had been more intense, as if it were a vision more in focus than any sight she’d seen before. And so she knew exactly what he was talking about when he inclined his head to look at her and said, “Tell me.”

  Her body stiffened automatically; it was accustomed to lies and secrets, not opening up to anyone. But she could do this; she wanted to do this. Why she wanted Noah to know the truth was a mystery even to her, but she suddenly wanted it desperately.

  “I was born in 1914,” she began, pausing to see how he would respond to that.

  “Would it be inappropriate of me to say you’ve aged well?” he smiled, seemingly unperturbed by this revelation.

  “And when were you born?” she asked back, curious since she knew absolutely nothing about how a dragon aged.

  “1476.”

  What was she supposed to say to that? Here she was thinking she was ancient, and he was several centuries older than her.

  “I guess I should be saying the same to you then, shouldn’t I?”

  “Maybe, but we’re talking about you, remember?” he teased.

  She smiled back, but leaned up and propped her arms against his chest. “My parents died on January 12, 1920. They drowned when the SS Afrique sunk not far from Olonne, France.”

  “I’m sorry, Claire.”

  She nodded, but pushed aside the sadness that came with the thought of her parents’ death. “I was sent to live with my uncle—Uncle William—the only living family member I had. I don’t think he was pleased at first, to be saddled with a six-year-old girl when he was just starting out in his career, but he tried to make the best of it. He intended to enroll me in a boarding school, but I refused to go, and so, not knowing what else to do, he took me with him. We traveled all over—Egypt, India, Africa, Scotland. I wasn’t always allowed to go with him to dig sites, but usually he let me come because I was good about staying out of the way.”