He set the pot on the night stand and pulled the dripping feather through his fist. A big oily palm gently pressed her soft belly into the mattress. The feather painted indecent designs on her curling bush and twirled around her bud again. She heard her own involuntary moan as delight made her sex clench in anticipation. Above her Roland rumbled like a great purring cat.
His hand began to knead her stomach as if he were indeed a cat. She had never thought of the abdomen as an erotic spot, but in Roland’s intoxicating presence, her entire body felt like one giant erogenous zone. The feather swept along the tender inside of one thigh, darted under the crease behind her knee, and was removed. She should protest. Close her legs. Anything but lie here unresisting while he seduced her with his lewd caresses.
But she had no will to move. Roland’s palm left her belly forlorn. He picked up the pot and dipped his feather again. This time he lavished his orange blossom oil on her straining nipples and dipped it into the shallow hollow of her navel — stretched wide since Aidan’s birth.
“Aidan,” she gasped his name.
“Asleep with Amiria.” Roland soothed her and bent lower so his mouth could taste the fragrant unguent he had painted on her breasts.
The hard suck of that voracious mouth, and the gentle whisk of the feather on her sex plunged Kayla into a vortex of desire. Her body felt roused past bearing as he continued his teasing of her sensitive flesh with feather, oil and mouth. Her head rocked on the pillow, now urging him on, now begging him to stop. After a long while he pressed her bud with his thumb, once, twice, he flicked his thumb upward and she splintered and floated away on a cloud of electric bliss.
She woke with her frail nightgown bunched under her armpits and a small pot of oil on the bed table. Of Roland there was no sign. Her body felt deeply relaxed, her skin as moist and silky as if she had been anointed with essence of love instead of oil. Her body felt at once satiated and abandoned. Typical.
* * *
“What do you mean they’re dead?” demanded Lord Voros of his underling. His voice was low and all the more terrifying because his fury was so cold and contained. “I gave no such orders.”
Rongo Te Paka inclined his head as protocol demanded. But he had not been appointed first of Voros’ sword bearers because he was a coward. “They were alive and unharmed, lord,” he swore, “When we put them in the storeroom. They had water. We fed them and checked their bonds twice. But when we went to feed them this morning they were both dead. Cyanide, I think.”
“Cyanide!” Roland exclaimed. “So they were more afraid of their master than of us.”
“I think so, sir. Vadim of Montenegro is ex-KGB. You know it is their assumption that to be captured is to betray all you know. If those dragons were supplied with poison, they had sworn to take it if caught.”
“What of the one in hospital?” asked Roland.
Rongo checked his mobile. “Tane and Hehu are on their way to Auckland right now. The hospital would give out no information. But Tane intends to take a look at the prisoner for himself. We fear that the police would not feel the need to mount a guard on a man who cannot get out of bed alone. And they cannot know how fast a shifter heals. Tane is due to report in fifteen minutes.”
“Hmm. Do you think that bear will try to escape?” asked Roland.
Rongo held his hands palms upward to indicate his lack of knowledge. “Or kill himself, sir. But if he is not already gone, it is all too easy to kill a man in hospital. Tane is undoubtedly racing this fellow’s companions.”
“Have we any proof these men are Russians?” Roland asked.
“Other than their smell? No, sir. Their clothing is American. But they are Russians. Even the bear in hospital.”
“I need proof for the Grand Council.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Keep me posted, Rongo.” Roland turned and left.
Time was wasting. He could not be sorry that Lord Watatoni Te Kanewa had appeared and forced Kayla’s hand. Marriage to his obstinate beauty was his goal and he had achieved it with a minimum of fuss on her part. He had even spent part of the night with his mate, and although that episode had left him aching and unfulfilled, her response had been deeply satisfying.
So why did he feel such a sense of anti-climax as well as an undercurrent of anxiety this morning? Guarded by his sword bearers, Kayla and Aidan had slept soundly and deeply last night. But he still felt a powerful need to whisk them away to his own island.
His house on Tarakona Island was a fortress surrounded by many layers of defense. It was impregnable and his sword bearers would deflect anyone or anything foolish enough to attack it. The sooner his wife and fireling were sheltered by its stout walls and electronic surveillance the better.
His wife! He and Kayla might have to repeat their vows for the Grand Council to accept their match. But she would revel in the traditional ceremonies that accompanied the union of the High Marshal to his Marschallin. And surely once those arcane and gorgeous rituals had been performed, he would at last feel secure in his bond to Kayla?
The boy was another matter completely. He was wonderful. After three years of making do with photographs and reports, he had been able to hold his fireling at last. The boy’s scent was proof enough that he was of his get. DNA be damned — his smell was right for a fireling of his loins.
The boy was a delight. Surely no other child had ever been so strong and clever and determined? Aidan was a squirming mass of questions. He seemed to have invented why. It was going to be pure pleasure to be a father to such a perfect son.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The helicopter trip to Tarakona took even less time than Roland had said it would. Tarakona was much like Ngaire, except that there were no palm thatched cottages and breeze block houses and no children played on its pink beaches. Only Roland’s complex sprawled over the tree covered rocks and from the air it looked indistinguishable from them. It was a surprise when the chopper landed and Kayla found herself led from the concrete helipad into cool and airy rooms with vast windows that looked down through the trees to the turquoise ocean.
Roland’s architect and decorator had favored clean, modern lines. The sitting room that he brought Kayla and Aidan to was a symphony of pale neutrals. Cream colored walls complemented ivory sofas. Blonde wood toned with the cream and ivory accent cushions. The ever changing vista of crashing surf and bright blue sky seen through the greenery of the surrounding woods was the focal point of the peaceful room.
Kayla gave the upholstery thirty seconds before Aidan stamped it with his dirty feet and hands. Even when freshly bathed, kids were messy and sticky. This fragile decor was not kid friendly. But she kept her thoughts to herself. Roland had picked, and he could deal with the whirlwind that was their child.
The boy rushed to the windows and placed both damp palms against the glass so he could peer down the gentle slope to the sea. The original trees and bushes had clearly been replanted when the residence was constructed because the bottom of the window looked directly into the shadowy recesses created by lush green ferns and flowering bushes dotted with flowers of every color. Tiny birds hopped on the pebbly ground and darted in and out of the undergrowth turning over the leaf litter.
“Mama, look!” Aidan beat excitedly on the window.
Kayla gently took his hands off the glass, ignoring his smeared prints. “Don’t shout,” she reproved gently. “We use our quiet voices around animals.”
“Not animals. Birdies,” Aidan objected, but his voice dropped a notch or two from shrill.
“Birds are animals too,” Kayla said gently. “You’ll scare them if you shout. Do you see that beetle?” She pointed to a big blotchy brown and black insect as big as her son’s palm. The beetle was dining on the segmented green leaves of the plant it was clinging to.
“Big,” announced Aidan clearly awed. He pressed his sweaty little nose into the window and gazed entranced. “I want out,” he declared at top volume.
Kayla smoot
hed her son’s pale, dead straight hair that was so like his father’s. “Later,” she promised, lowering her voice even more. “Don’t you want lunch?”
“Yes. Lunch.” Aidan continued to bellow.
“Inside voice,” Kayla whispered.
“Inside voice,” Aidan yelled back. If he dropped his decibel level, it was not discernible to Kayla. Roland had begun to frown at his noisy son.
“Let me show you to your bedrooms,” he suggested through gritted teeth.
“Let’s see where you are going to sleep,” Kayla said quietly and took Aidan’s hand in hers.
“I want outside,” the boy repeated.
“Later,” Kayla said patiently. “Right now, we’re going to see your bedroom. And then we will eat lunch. Okay?”
“Kay.”
Aidan’s room would have held her entire cottage on Ngaire. The two twin beds were low and separated by a single dresser. But the beds were lost on the vast expanse of pale bamboo flooring. Aidan had eyes only for the wall of windows that looked out into more ferns and trees. He ran to try to open the sliders into the garden.
Roland’s big hand covered his son’s small starfish hand as it fought with the latch. “That door is locked,” he said firmly, “And you are not to go outside without a grown up.”
“Why?”
Roland looked nonplussed. Kayla folded her arms and didn’t help.
“Because that slope isn’t safe for little boys,” Lord Voros told his heir.
“Why?”
Roland drew in a deep breath and hunkered down to look into his son’s eyes. “You are not to go outside without permission and an adult,” he said sternly.
The boy’s lint blond hair and green eyes — so like his father’s — clearly had Roland fooled. Kayla shook her head at her own willful blindness. Her son was a miniature of his arrogant father. How often had she complained of Aidan’s demanding bossiness, without realizing it was the youthful version of his dragon father’s imperiousness? Well, Roland could figure out how to handle their willful boy on his own.
Kayla could see Aidan deciding whether he could try another why. He looked between her bland face and his father’s implacable expression and gave in. “Kay,” he said agreeably. He ran to one of the low bed and climbed onto the pastel coverlet. His sandals left black marks on its pristine sleekness.
“No shoes on the furniture,” Kayla reminded him of the rule.
Aidan obediently unbuckled his sandals tossed them to the floor and snuggled down on the pillow barefooted. Kayla noticed that the soles of her son’s feet were grubby and his heels left brown marks on his bedding. Perhaps now Roland would realize that palest aquamarine had been a mistake for a child’s bedroom?
She gazed around at the rest of the furnishings. The furniture was elegant — blond wood and sleek lines. But everything had been designed for a very small child. It was a curious mixture of thoughtful preparedness for the very young, and disregard for the grubbiness of children.
The only adult sized chair in the room was an armchair that looked big enough for Roland. It sat beside a bookcase that was already filled. Kayla wandered over to take a look.
The shelves held brand new copies of Aidan’s favorites. But the bottom shelf housed a motley assortment of battered, grubby volumes. She bent to remove one and the covers flopped loosely in her hands. She opened it carefully. Someone had read this book to death. She looked at Roland but he was studiously ignoring her inspection. She grinned and returned Thomas the Tank Engine to its place.
“Let’s find the bathroom,” she said cheerfully. Aidan was toilet trained, of course, but he was young enough to forget he needed to go. And having his first helicopter ride, and moving into a new house, plus all the excitement of yesterday, was enough for an accident to be inevitable.
Roland opened a door and Aidan ran into a temple to hygiene. The toddler stopped dead on the tiled floor and gazed around at the gleaming perfection of his own bathroom. The toilet and sinks were Aidan high. The bathtub was a rectangular custom pool, with steps up and steps down, and a built in bench for someone to sit to wash or watch a child. The shower stall had two heads, one high and one low. The window looked out at the blue sky.
Kayla gawked as much as Aidan. “This is amazing,” she said, awed despite her resolution not to say anything. “You made this for him.”
“Of course,” said Roland condescendingly. “He is my son.”
“But he’ll outgrow it in a nanosecond!”
Roland shrugged. “Then he can have another room. And his brother can have this one.”
“His brother! You have another child?” Kayla was rocked to her core by his casual remark.
“You misunderstand me, Beloved. I referred to our future child. Because we will have more babies,” he assured her throatily.
Aidan had found the toilet and was lifting the lid cautiously.
“Do you need help?” Kayla asked him.
“I can do it!” Aidan insisted loudly. He clambered aboard. For some reason Roland was frowning.
“I will show you to your room,” he informed Kayla, “And then we will have lunch. Aidan can eat with Amiria.”
The bedroom door opened as he spoke and the young Maori woman came in with Rongo and looked enquiringly at Roland.
“I will leave Aidan in your care,” Roland said and turned to go.
“He needs his lunch and maybe a nap,” Kayla said to Amiria.
“Yes, Kayla,” the younger woman said pleasantly. “Aidan, do you want to eat at that table or outside on the patio?”
“Outside,” Aidan ran for his sandals and sat down to put them on. He stuffed them on the wrong feet, stood up, took a few awkward steps, tried to jump and fell to his knees. He knit his tiny, pale brows, rolled onto his bum and glared at his feet. He looked so like his father that Kayla caught her breath. He unbuckled his footwear, swapped them and jumped up and grabbed Amiria’s outstretched hand and swung from it.
“Bye, Mama,” he shouted.
“Shall we go,” Roland said grandly to Kayla. Wordlessly she followed him into the hallway.
* * *
Roland was pleased by his mate’s reaction to the house he had built for her. And plainly Aidan had inherited her fascination with wildlife. It was difficult for him to tell which of them liked the living terrarium he had created more. But really, the boy had been allowed to run wild. He was noisy and undisciplined and dirty. It would be his first duty to teach his fireling to be quieter.
Also sitting was no way for his son to pee. But, of course, Aidan had had no man to show him how to use his equipment. But this was perhaps no time for such a lesson. Kayla was at simmering point and they needed to be alone so she could relieve her feelings.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Roland led Kayla down a long hallway bypassing several doors. She followed him, becoming more and more bewildered and suspicious, until she dug in her heels and stopped.
“Hold it. This is altogether too far from Aidan’s room,” she said.
“For what?” Roland was genuinely perplexed.
“If he needs me in the night, I want to be nearby,” she said.
“Our bedroom is back there,” Roland said. “I’m taking you to see your lab.”
“My lab!”
“Of course. I know you need your work to be happy. But the laboratory and your office are in a separate wing.” He took her elbow and guided her along.
They turned down another corridor and came to a pair of tall doors. Roland touched a panel in the wall and a cover opened to reveal a screen. He placed his entire hand over the screen until a light began to blink. He permitted his irises to be scanned.
“Why would I need this level of security,” wondered Kayla.
Roland raised his eyebrows. “Your safety is worth safeguarding,” he said. “You are infinitely precious to me, and I know you value your research. If you put your palm on the screen, we’ll scan you in so you are authorized to enter.”
“What is this place?” asked Kayla awed despite herself.
“Your office. You will need your data and your books and notes. But they should arrive this afternoon. I want you to be happy.”
“In my golden cage?” she inquired bitterly.
“In your new home,” he corrected. “Would you really prefer to work in that hot and airless Nissan hut on Ngaire Island?”
The spacious room looked nothing like the makeshift bench and stool in the lab hut on Ngaire. It was calm and comfortable. Kayla sat down at the desk and leaned back in the ergonomic leather chair. Bliss. Through the trees the rocky shore and the surf beyond drew her eye. “I’d never get any work done here,” she objected. “Not with that view. And this chair.” She sighed with pleasure as she leaned back.
“It ought to be comfortable. It was made especially for you, my darling.”
Kayla snorted softly. She looked around the room at the elegant bookcases and cabinets. “My computer would look completely out of place here.”
Roland smiled. “If you want to use that ancient thing, that is of course up to you.” He leaned forward and tapped the top of the glossy wooden desk. Immediately a panel opened a large screen emerged. He tapped the front edge of the desk and a keyboard slid forward.
“This setup is very sophisticated. But my research is back on Ngaire. I can’t very well do that from here.”
Roland sighed. “You will be able to go back to Ngaire as often as you need to, Beloved, once I have made it safe for you. In the meantime, you can have video access to your team. And Dr. Foster is a most competent deputy. If you wish for an assistant here on Tarakona, you have only to hire one.” He grinned at her. “Do you want to bet that you won’t have found a new research subject in the next week?”
Dragon's Successor (BBW/Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 2) Page 15
