by Liliana Hart
“Fighting against your true nature and your powers is what’s giving you this feeling.” He pulled the pins from my hair and tossed them to the floor, and the thick mass tumbled around my shoulders and down my back. He pressed his nose against it and inhaled its scent. His hand followed the contours of my neck to my shoulder and around to the front of me, so he held the weight of my breast in the palm of his hand. I shuddered under his touch.
“You cannot lie to me, Rena. For I’ve seen all of you. Everything you keep hidden in the farthest corners of your mind. You’re afraid of letting your power take complete control of your mind. Fear is an emotion for prey, and it calls out to all predators. I am a predator.”
Fabric ripped, and the black dress I wore lay in tatters at my feet. His fingers trailed down my spine, and he tugged at the matching scrap of lace between my thighs before tearing it away from me. My breath caught in my throat, and I grew damp with excitement. I dropped the pillow, and feathers plumed wildly into the air and floated down softly around us. I put my other hand against the wall and braced myself.
“You are so lovely.” He inhaled my scent again, and goose bumps pebbled my flesh. “We are trapped inside these human bodies, Rena, but our hearts and instincts are those of an animal. Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?”
“Yes, but we are not full-blooded Drakán,” I managed to say. “We are tainted by other blood, and these feelings I have are a result of that blood.”
“Your dragon is stronger than you think. You are more than you think. Just as I am. We are intelligent and cunning. Selfish and loyal. Fighters and lovers. We are Drakán.”
Julian breathed harshly against my ear, and I tried to turn around to face him, but he put his arm around my middle and anchored me against him. He pressed his hardness against my bottom, and I squirmed with anticipation. His fingers plucked at my nipple and his other hand snaked lower so he cupped the very heat of me. Fire erupted around us in a whoosh of blue flame.
“Do you deny what is between us?”
“Yes!” I shouted, even as my dragon battered against me in denial. I sobbed in silent gasps as my emotions warred within me. His finger pressed against my clit, and he held it there, not strumming the throbbing bud that begged for his attention, but just pressing against it. My orgasm exploded against him and pulsed in time with my every pant for air. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wardrobe in exhaustion and resignation.
Julian would always win these battles. I didn’t have the strength to stop him. He kissed the nape of my neck and then bit down gently, the scrape of his teeth sending aftershocks to my womb.
“If you don’t accept your own powers, how are you going to accept mine?”
It was then I noticed the remainder of his clothes had disappeared somewhere along the way. The hard length of him, impossibly huge, pressed against the crevice of my buttocks.
“Do you want me, Rena?”
I could only see the truth of my desire and his when our minds were connected like they were.
“Yes,” I moaned. I pushed back against him, begging to be filled.
“Do you want every part of me? Will you open yourself to your full power and give me everything you have?”
I’d do anything he wanted to get him inside of me, so I nodded wordlessly.
“I need to hear the words, Rena. There will be no going back once you agree. I will take everything you have, and I will give you everything in return. We will take each other like animals, and damn the consequences.”
“Yes.” The word was so soft it was almost silent.
Julian roared in triumph and we tumbled to the floor. My cheek and knees pressed into the carpet as he probed behind me. I was more than ready to take him. He grabbed my hair in his fist to hold me still and his teeth clamped down on my shoulder just before he plunged inside of me.
A symphony of colors played behind my closed eyelids. My body stretched around him, welcoming him, and I screamed in satisfaction when he slammed against the farthest point of my womb. The carpet was soft under my cheek as it rubbed back and forth in time with his thrusts. He moved impossibly fast, growling against my neck each time he bottomed out.
“Please, please,” I begged. My body was taut and ready for release, but he held me just on the brink of satisfaction.
“Yes,” he hissed, and bit through the flesh of my neck. He brought his hand underneath me and cupped me while he thrust harder, hitting the special spot inside me that brought me to orgasm. My muscles spasmed around him, squeezing tighter and tighter, until he moaned his pleasure.
The lights flickered in the room. Light bulbs popped and tinkled to the floor, plunging us into darkness. The windows cracked and then shattered in a shower of glass. Snow swirled into the room like a blizzard, but didn’t melt when touched by our fire. Water poured from the faucets and flooded onto the carpet, building until there was a lake beneath us and the waves moved in time with Julian’s every thrust.
The orgasm rolled through me in a wash of heat and satisfaction. I screamed my release and dug my nails into the wet carpet, looking for an anchor as the world shattered around me in a white-hot burst of pleasure.
Julian stiffened above me, his head bent so it rested on my shoulder. And then he shouted out his own release, and I felt the liquid heat of him surge inside my womb. The one arm that was holding him above me collapsed and he rolled with me so we lay spooned on our sides in a shallow lake of water. It ebbed and flowed around us, and the mating fire slowly died out.
The last thing I remember before submitting to sleep was that the powers that had been unleashed in the room weren’t familiar to me. They were like nothing I’d ever seen or experienced before.
The problem was, I didn’t know if they’d belonged to me or Julian. Either way we had a problem.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“I’m going to be formally presented to the clans as Archos,” Julian said the next morning as he shook me awake.
I pushed his hands away and rolled over. It felt like we’d just gone to bed. I looked for the clock on the nightstand, but didn’t see it there. The table was turned over on its side and the clock lay face-up on the floor. The red numbers glowed 7:15. I’d been asleep a little over an hour.
After we’d made love the night before—the first time—and let loose the powers that had brought the elements to crash down upon us, the magic that had seemed so destructive at the time calmly put things to rights again. The water drained and the carpet dried. The electricity came back on and the lights fixed themselves. The cracks in the walls sealed themselves, and the room was left almost whole.
I looked around and winced at the broken furniture and overturned plants that lay around the room. The elements hadn’t caused the furniture to break. We’d done that all on our own, and Julian hadn’t gotten around to putting things back together. No wonder I was so damned sore. And no wonder I’d spent the short time I’d been asleep trying to keep myself from rolling to the floor. The bed dipped down at an extremely weird angle.
“Gods, why does everything have to be so goddamned formal around here? And early,” I added.
I was tired of the pomp and circumstance Drakán protocol seemed to demand. I missed my home and my solitude. I’d not had ten minutes of time to myself since I’d stepped foot inside Drummondsey Castle.
Julian was already up and dressed, and he brought a cup of coffee over to me and wrapped my fingers around the hot mug. My dragon immediately popped her eyes open and began to move around as the smell and heat reached her.
“Have you noticed that you’re not very agreeable in the mornings?”
I growled and took a scalding sip before the coffee had had time to cool off. “Maybe if I ever got more than a couple of hours’ sleep at a time I’d be in a little better mood.”
“Are you really complaining about last night?” he asked, rubbing his finger across my bottom lip.
My lips twitched before I could help it. “
Complaining might be too strong of a word.” The cobwebs started to clear from my mind, and I finally took a long look at Julian. He’d dressed in another black suit and white dress shirt, but he’d forgone a tie and the collar sat open, exposing the strong length of his throat. His blue eyes were bright and alert, and he smelled like sin and sex. He looked good. Really good.
He growled and moved across the room. “We need to be downstairs in twenty minutes, and your hair is—” He waved his hands above his head in a gesture that made me afraid to look in the mirror.
I pulled the covers off and put my feet on the floor, having every intention of going into the bathroom and making myself presentable, but Julian’s eyes flared and I felt the lick of his magic against my skin before he could reel it back in.
“Twenty minutes is plenty of time,” I said, getting a running start at him.
We were late, but it was to be expected.
I’d dressed quickly in a black strapless sheath that didn’t leave anything to the imagination and a pair of needle-thin heels. Julian had been right about the state of my hair—sex storms and broken furniture had made it interesting, to say the least, and all I could do with it was brush out the tangles and pull it back in a tight bun at the nape of my neck. I slicked my lips with red and decided that was as good as it was going to get.
We walked into the ballroom arm in arm and swathed a path through thousands of Drakán to the center of the room. The Drakán closed around us in a wide circle. More Drakán had arrived overnight, and they stood shoulder to shoulder and hundreds deep. The clans were each still wearing their own colors, and each clan stood together so the circle around us resembled a rainbow wheel. But it was easily the color black that dominated the room. I hadn’t realized how much the clans had diminished in numbers. Julian was right when he’d said his people were the only ones thriving.
I nodded to Cale of the Éire, who stood at the front of his clan. He was a tall man and thin as a reed, with a head of fiery curls and emerald-green eyes. The milk-white skin and red hair of his people were the result of centuries of confining their human mates and children to one small island. The Irish dragons were all varying shades of green, and they had the least in numbers. Cale was the grandson of the warrior Thelos, and he was Eunice’s nephew.
My clan was also easy to recognize in the crowd. They wore our colors proudly, even though it made me angry that they’d defied my, and Julian’s, direct orders. I was going to have to make my position clear and come down on them hard. I was their new Archos, and they would obey me. Or I’d make them sorry.
They showed more disrespect by not dressing formally—most wore jeans and sweaters. They lounged sullenly, with their arms crossed and their eyes defiant. Their arrogance and pride was obvious, and I realized how little I knew them. My job as Enforcer had kept me separated from them, and they only knew me for two things: the daughter Alasdair despised and the person who was called in when sugar went to shit. Commanding them to join with Julian had been a bitter pill for them to swallow, but it was done and they needed to come to terms with it. Getting them under control was going to be a difficult job, and it was just another reason that I needed to leave Julian and go back home. He squeezed my hand as he felt the direction of my thoughts.
“It will be all right. They are confused, and your brother is making things difficult, giving them ultimatums. They don’t know who to follow.”
I squeezed his hand in answer to his reassurance, and I tried to keep my mind off of Erik. It just hurt too badly. I let my gaze wonder around the rest of the room.
The Romanians all wore the traditional clothing of their country. The women wore white peasant skirts and blouses with wraparound black aprons. They wore no adornments or jewelry. The married women in the clan wore white scarves to cover their hair. The men, who were far scarcer than the women, wore loose-fitting pants and shirts of white. They topped them with multicolored hand-woven vests of wool. The Romanians were in sad shape—their numbers were small and they looked hungry. They weren’t at all a healthy clan, in any aspect of the word.
Their Archos, Andres, stood proudly in front of them—a rigid man who was frozen for eternity as the picture of youth and vitality. It was common knowledge that his people were unable to breed. A Romanian child hadn’t been born in more than two thousand years. He stood defiant in front of his remaining family, ignoring the needs of his withering people and condemning them to extinction.
The Russians were a different matter. Their numbers almost rivaled Julian’s. Almost. The Russians had big problems. Lucian had been the warrior to form this clan. That part of the world had been vastly huge eleven thousand years ago, and he’d actually tried to start two different clans, hoping to stack the odds in his favor. He’d fathered hundreds of children in the lands that are now Russia and China, ruling over them both equally. But when he’d died, allegiances had been split. Both clans were considered equal in power, so there was no one who was strong enough to lead them both.
So while Milos was the true Archos in Russia, there were many loyal to Feng in China, though the Council had never agreed to make Feng an official Archos. Feng hadn’t been invited to sit in on the meetings with Julian and the other Archos. But with Milos’ recent disappearance, Feng had very handily stepped in and taken charge of both the clans. Russia’s official color was white, and even those belonging to Milos should have been dressed in it. But instead they wore bright yellow. I could taste their fear, but there were none who were strong enough to challenge Feng.
Feng stood at the front of the group, a yellow silk suit covering his compact, muscled body. His ebony hair fell to his shoulders as straight as rain, and his eyes were as black as coals and framed by thick lashes. He was an inch shorter than my own five-foot-four, but his attitude more than made up for his lack of height.
If I’d thought Julian cold when I’d first met him, it was nothing compared to the expression on Feng’s face. Feng was going to be trouble. It didn’t take a psychic to figure that out.
I shivered as he held my gaze—there was a nothingness in the bleak depths of his eyes that terrified me. I could lose my soul in those eyes and never find my way back out. This man was cruelty itself.
Magic spilled across my skin and surrounded me, trying to seduce me with a flash of power that held no substance. It wasn’t familiar magic. And I knew it belonged to Feng.
My eyes narrowed at his audacity. I reached deep down for my anger and it flowed to the surface and rippled off my skin. His thin lips smiled at my attempt to get him to release his hold over me and he pushed his magic at me harder—not gentle at all this time. I gasped and took a step back to steady myself.
“Release me,” I whispered. The power of my words floated across the room and penetrated his shields. Feng was a child. Weak when faced with my psychic abilities. But Feng would not fight with honor.
His magic weakened and his brow furrowed in anger. He lashed out at me, but I was ready. I embraced the whip and slash of his power, much like I had with Julian, and I absorbed it. Feng’s magic tasted different than Julian’s had. It was bitter on the tongue—acidic.
Feng’s magic vanished, and he stood powerless, humiliated in front of the Drakán by a woman. A myriad of emotions crossed his face—disbelief, rage, jealousy. But last was fear. And my dragon fed on it. He made the sign of devil horns in his left hand and pointed it at me.
“You are a magic succubus,” he said. The words were spoken softly, but they covered the room like a blanket.
I’d never heard the term magic succubus, but I could tell by the stiffening in Julian’s shoulders that he had. The power to absorb others’ magic solely belonged to Julian because he was of royal blood. I’d only recently acquired the skill once my dragon realized that Julian belonged to her.
“The archives tell stories of others like you,” Feng spat. “You bring shame upon all the clans. Where do you really come from, Rena Drake? Have you sold your soul to the Shadow Realm? You are no Drak
án with a power like that. You are evil incarnate and must be destroyed.”
“You overstep yourself, Feng,” I said. “I am the Enforcer. And I belong to Julian. You are no one. You belong to no one. And the people you’ve forced to follow you will cheer at your death. Remember your place.”
His gaze locked on mine, and I stared him down. My dragon knew she was stronger, and she was going to force him to submit to her. The room was focused on our struggle of wills, but it was Julian who forced Feng’s attention to be redirected.
“My lifemate can handle her own battles, Feng. But know that threats against her will bring the wrath of both our clans, for we are now united.”
Julian took my arm and we both turned our backs on Feng. The ultimate insult, for to give your back to a dragon meant you didn’t believe they were dangerous enough to worry about an attack.
Julian began the formal proceedings, even though he’d stripped the other Archos of their titles the day before.
“Welcome, Cale of the Éire and greetings to all of your people,” Julian said, bowing formally and speaking the old language. He was following protocol that hadn’t been used since the Banishment.
Eunice stood just behind me, and she translated for all of the newlings who had never heard the old tongue.
“Welcome, Andres of the Rumanus, and greetings to all of your people,” he continued. We turned in the center of the circle to face the next group. “Welcome, Feng of Ruskaya Zemlya, and greetings to the people of Milos. And welcome, clan of my lifemate and the followers of Alasdair.”
The tension in the room skyrocketed. Though Julian had greeted Feng, he had acknowledged him as a member of Milos’ clan instead of acting leader of the Chinese and temporary leader of the Russians. But Feng did not attempt to release his magic again. He’d learned his lesson for now.
