by Paula Quinn
She backed up slowly, turned, and ran straight into his arms. His mouth slanted in victory and she had the sudden urge to slap him.
“I swear I won’t be as easy as your other victims,” she vowed, staring terrified into his eyes.
“You’ve already proven that,” he drawled, his eyes glittering with challenge as he tightened his hold.
She smacked his hands away, though it took enormous effort, adding to her suspicion that he possessed some sort of inexplicable sexual charm that rendered women helpless against him.
His smile on her softened, proving to be even more dangerous to her will. Luckily, he turned away and sat down against the wall. “I have no intention of hurting you, Sam. When will you understand that?”
“Maybe when you stop scaring the hell out of me?”
He shrugged lazily. “You frighten easily.”
Her fingers rolled into fists and her lower lip pushed outward. Oh, she was about to prove to him that he was a man when she kicked him where no man wanted to be kicked. Obviously, still reading her thoughts, Marcus smacked his knees together, but the slow curl of his sinful mouth revealed how thoroughly he was enjoying her fire.
He liked her resistance, unable to conceal that part of him that craved taking her with complete dominance. Sam severed her gaze from his and looked around, her lip sinking as she took in the full magnitude of her predicament. There was nowhere to go but down. She was trapped with a man who could have once been an honest to God dragon with a hunger for virgins, or with a scientific experiment gone horribly wrong. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then stared down into his eyes, proving to herself that she could resist whatever supernatural charm he possessed. “What do you want from me?”
An image scored her brain that made her feel flush. He was atop her, naked, hot, and rock hard. His eyes impaled her as deeply as the rest of him, tearing away her fears, her control just before his hungry mouth sank to her throat, his teeth grazing her pulse.
“I just want to talk.”
Sam blinked and stared at him sitting there looking up at her innocently. The misty air cooled her sweaty brow and the surge of heat coursing through her veins. “Fine. Then talk.”
“Are you this cold to Eric?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Is it just me you’re afraid of?” he pressed on boldly. “Or is it all males?”
Sam tossed him a scathing smile. “Why on earth would I be afraid of men, Marcus?”
“Because they have torn away at your hopes of ever having what your heart truly desires.”
Her smile faded. She blinked back the sudden stinging burn behind her eyelids. “If you know that already, why are you wasting my time here?”
“I want to understand this quest of yours, Sam. I’m not familiar with your human emotions. What is so extraordinary about this love for which you are saving yourself?”
Growing up, she’d had so little control over things in her life. Her body was the one thing she could control, all that was hers alone, and she wouldn’t hand it over to just anyone. But what did she know of love? Nothing. And why should she bother to lie when he could look right into her and see the painful truth? She shook her head, baring all of herself to him. “I don’t know.”
He looked away for a moment at a hawk soaring beneath the clouds. “Neither do I. Mayhap,” he added, returning his gaze to hers. “It is not so extraordinary at all.”
“It is,” she assured him, captivated by the sheer beauty of a face no mere man could possibly possess. If only she could find it with him. Oh, God help her, what was she thinking? It was the altitude sapping her of her wits. The guy was a snake. Literally! He was the last thing she wanted in her life.
“It is.” She strengthened her resolve one more time. “When I write it, it is.”
“Ah, you want a man like your Sir Robert then?”
“Someone like him, yes,” she told him despite the mocking tilt of his mouth.
He shrugged and began to rise. “I am not a knight, Sam.”
“I know.” She didn’t mean to sigh so miserably.
It wasn’t Marcus’ fault that he was born to wreak havoc on probably every woman he came in contact with. She certainly didn’t expect from him what she hadn’t yet found in any man, because he wasn’t one. He was trapped somewhere in between.
“Look. We clearly want different things,” she sighed, swiping her wind-blown tresses behind one ear. “You want sex, and I want a man who can make a commitment to me and keep it. We have nothing in common, so why don’t you just return me back to my ordinary life and fly off into the sunset?”
He shook his head, but it was more a gesture of disbelief than of refusal. “How can you be so satisfied with ordinary? Do you truly want to live out your life with a mundane creature like Eric in a rundown pile of stones that vex your every waking moment?”
“My pile of stones is a home, Marcus. It’s mine and it’s permanent. Something I’ve never really had before. And Eric seems dependable enough.”
“Enough for what?” he argued, coming toward her. “To bore you to tears? You could not even stand to spend an afternoon with him once you met me.”
“My goodness, you’re conceited.” She wanted to laugh but damn it all to hell, he was right. She took a step back as he advanced. Her heel teetered at the edge of the precipice and she flailed her arms, too panic-stricken to breathe.
Marcus caught her in the crook of his arm and pulled her against his chest. “Why do you resist me when I can offer you so much more than any man ever could?”
His thick, rich voice covered her like a silken veil, clouding her good judgment. His eyes bore into hers with the promise of decadence so tempting she suddenly knew how Eve felt in the garden.
“What makes you think I want what you offer?” she asked, trying to free herself from his embrace. She had to. He was too dangerous to more than just her virtue. “The moment you had me, you would become a memory even worse than Raymond.”
She pushed at his chest, finally breaking his hold, but she was too close to the edge and lost her footing. Her scream echoed off the jagged cliffs and then stopped abruptly against the hard thump of Marcus’ chest.
The strength of his embrace would have been awe-inspiring if Sam’s heart hadn’t left her body a hundred feet up. He whispered gentle, soothing words she didn’t understand close to her ear so she could hear him against the thunderous flapping just over her head. Her heart slowed.
“Stop running from me, Sam.” He cradled her closer, his face inches from hers.
She felt the pull of his enchantment, certain now that he did possess such a power. The compelling lure of a sorcerer’s whisper, making her ache to be kissed. It had to be some sort of dragon magic, she told herself staring into his radiant eyes. She could feel his heart against her chest, beating as forcefully as her own. She could feel every part of him, every muscle, every limb, pressing into her, his breath warm and ragged against her neck.
She lifted her arms and slipped them around his neck. Her entire body warmed in his embrace as heat engulfed her, and yet she shivered, felt small and insignificant against the mighty power that held them suspended high above the earth.
“No,” she whispered on a ragged breath as his mouth descended on hers. She was too afraid of losing what was left of herself. If he kissed her again now, clutching her life in his arms, he would doom her to a life of nothing but haunting dreams.
“Please, stop.” She arched her spine, turning her face away. “You aren’t human. You don’t love, and I want love.”
He muttered a curse and folded his wings back, letting them both plummet back to the earth. Sam cried out and buried her face in his neck, clutching his shoulders, but Marcus didn’t slow his descent. A moment before they would have smashed into the hard flagstones lining of her bailey, he slowed, prying her off him.
“Mask that damnable scent of yours, Virgin. Or next time I will ravage you beyond your comprehension.�
� He landed, released her, and took a step back, folding his wings until they disappeared.
For a moment, Sam could only stare at him, suspended somewhere between anger, hurt, and revulsion. Virgin. He hadn’t tried to hide what he wanted from her. Not once. But hearing him say it… She was simply something yet to be defiled, a conquest yet to be won—just like the many virgins before her. Well, this was one virgin he wasn’t going to get.
Chapter Twelve
Marcus closed his eyes as he flew toward his cave. If ever he missed his fire, it was now. He wanted to char something, to open his mouth and release the scorching fury that blazed his insides. He had no idea why Sam’s words angered him. He wasn’t human, and he was glad for it. But, he wasn’t Drakkon either. If he was, he would not be brooding because his not being human repulsed Sam. He would have had his way with her despite her heart’s resistance. He knew that taking her would grant him no reward, but that didn’t matter. He wanted her with an ache so ancient it pained him.
He wanted to strip her slowly, while he basked in her delicate beauty. Aye, there was another thing he didn’t understand. He had never found a human female’s body to his liking. It had always been her scent alone that drove him to conquer. But he liked looking at Sam. He liked her eyes, the shape of her face, and the curve of her rump. He wanted to stroke his tongue over every delectable inch of her and kiss that sweet, soft mouth until she surrendered herself fully. He wanted to spread her legs and sink deep inside her—the first to claim her. The first and only to ever possess her.
That tantalizing victory was nowhere in sight and it was beginning to drive him mad. And she was wrong about him not loving anything. He loved his hoard, his fire, and his freedom to soar above the earth and the paltry beings inhabiting it. He loved his claws, his scales, his teeth…
Landing silently on the perch before his cave, he sank back on his haunches and contemplated his dilemma. He was neither human nor Drakkon. His instincts still burned strong within, but now they were tempered by new ones. Strange desires to see Sam smile, to understand her, to be a part of her life, and to keep other men out of it. Namely, Eric the maggot.
What he claimed was his, and his alone. He wanted to take what Sam had given to no other man, but it would not stop her from sharing her body with another. Amanda White had already proven that when she let him take what belonged to her husband. And by the stars, just the thought of Eric’s hands on Sam tempted him to kill the worm. For ten centuries, any challenge with which he was met was promptly burned to a cinder. He couldn’t burn Eric.
But there was another problem that vexed Marcus’ human heart. Sam was afraid of him and he hated it. Afraid of his wings, of what he was, and of what he could never give her. Love. He’d never needed anything besides his wings, his claws, and his fire to be happy. He didn’t know if he could ever feel what she could.
Hell, she was forcing him to think like a man and he didn’t know where to begin, or if he even wanted to. He wanted to possess her, but once he did there would be no more reason to take her. The scent would be gone, and so, most likely, would he. At least until he found a way to gain back his true form. He couldn’t leave her before then, since most of his hoard was cemented into her walls. He doubted the Council would find it, but he’d have to remain close just in case they did.
“The moment you had me, you would become a memory even worse than Raymond.”
The memory of her words raided Marcus’ thoughts and brought a frown to his lips. Why would his memory be worse than Raymond’s? From what he’d been able to read from her, Raymond’s memory was a foul one, indeed. Marcus did not want to cause Sam that kind of pain.
He spread his gaze across the sky. Why did he care? He’d left Amanda White without so much as a fleeting thought. And why did the thought of leaving Sam make him feel so alone? Was it because she was the first woman he’d laid eyes on as a man? Was it the sense that she needed protection… needed him?
He stood and looked into the opening of what had been one of his lairs. His markings, gauged into the walls, had warned other Drakkon before he became the last, not to enter. But now, he felt as if he didn’t belong here anymore and fought the urge to toss back his head and wail until the heavens shook. He didn’t want to need anyone. He wanted back his indomitable strength, his impenetrable armor, and his uncompromising heart. But how? He possessed nothing so valuable that it would keep him from killing Padgora once he was changed back. His greatest treasure was his pure Drakkon blood—and Padgora had already taken that.
But there was something else. Some great treasure worth more than a thousand hoards and Tomias White knew where it was. Marcus had to find him.
*
Thomas White brought his shoulders to his ears as the second crash sounded in his halls. “Tabitha?” he called out. “Please keep him in the playroom.”
After a moment of silence, he continued to look through his onyx. The images of Marcus were sometimes murky, but today, Marcus had been exceptionally bold and flew with the girl.
Thomas wanted to go to him. He’d wanted to go to him the instant he’d transformed. But Marcus wouldn’t have been ready, and the treasure was just too precious to take the slightest risk. He had to wait, certain that when he made his move, Marcus wouldn’t resist or harm any of them.
He worried that the Aqua would kill him when he found out that Thomas had the treasure Patrick so desperately wanted.
Another crash outside his door. It sounded like his most priceless vase. He wasn’t angry. He loved the cause of havoc that swept through his home from the day he found the egg and watched it hatch.
“Garion,” he called out. “Come in here and speak to me please.”
A pause and then a whisper from Tabitha. Finally, Garion entered on the soft, slow flap of his leathery wings. His gold scales glimmered against the soft light of Thomas’s study. His long-spaded tail swooshed and almost knocked Tomas’s books from their shelves. The boy was growing.
“Come here, son.”
He smiled, watching the child fly toward him using more caution.
“I thought we agreed,” he said when the little Drakkon transformed effortlessly into a child and stood before him, lifting his huge golden eyes to Thomas, “that you would only fly in the playroom.”
“I want to fly outside.”
Thomas shook his head but his heart broke. The poor child only wanted what was natural to him. But Thomas couldn’t let him fill the skies without someone—an adult to fly with him. “Soon, Garion. As soon as it’s safe.”
The child nodded, popped his thumb in his mouth and walked out of the study, his free hand tucked into his nurse’s hand, his two human feet on the floor.
*
Two weeks passed and Sam had not seen nor heard from Marcus. He’d come and gone, just like everyone else in her life—parents, friends, fiancés. She should be happy about it. She was happy! Now, if she could just get him out of her mind, things could go back to normal.
She hadn’t typed a single word since he left. How could she think about knights when a dragon was invading her thoughts? He hadn’t spoken a word in her mind, but he was there, in her memory, every day, haunting her with his seductive smile and his vibrant cerulean eyes.
Every time Eric kissed her, she wished it was Marcus’ passionate mouth covering hers. She had plenty of experience at harnessing her own desires. She hadn’t even given in to her fiancé, but Marcus possessed a raw sensuality that made her want to yield all. It was better that he’d left. She was nothing to him but some kind of ritualistic conquest.
Still, he didn’t have to fix her wall. Stones of that size were expensive. She’d never asked Marcus where they’d come from. Where would a dragon get money? It didn’t matter. Fixing her ruins was just another way of seducing her.
Ellie wasn’t helping matters. Much to Sam’s astonishment, her friend was angry with her. Ellie had found the whole crazy thing romantic in some distorted way. She even grumbled and huffed when Eric sho
wed up to take Sam to dinner a few nights ago.
“What’s come over you, Ellie?” Sam asked her one Sunday morning over a breakfast of poached eggs and fresh smoked sausage. “I thought you would be happy that I’ve found someone to care for me.”
“Are you happy?” Ellie looked up from her eggs. “Well, are you?”
“Yes!”
“Oh, pah!” Ellie huffed. “How can you be happy with a man who can put you into a mild coma the moment he opens his mouth? He has the intelligence of a worm.”
Sam looked up slowly from her plate. That was an odd thing for Ellie to call him.
“Marcus had some life to him, at least,” her friend continued and sipped her tea. “I think he would come back if he thought you wanted him to.”
“Do you?” Sam asked her, narrowing her eyes on Ellie’s pudgy face as the older woman shrugged her shoulder.
“I do. And the battlement walls still need fixing, as well as the drawbridge, and don’t forget the roof.”
Oh, he wouldn’t! Sam wanted to slap her palm down on the table. She looked around the kitchen, wondering how close Marcus had to be to communicate silently with Ellie. And Ellie! In cahoots with him! She almost refused to believe it. Then again, stranger things have happened lately. Well, there was only one way to find out for certain.
“Eric has offered to hire men to finish the drawbridge.”
Sam’s suspicions proved correct when Ellie shifted in her chair, blushed to her silver roots, and then coughed into her hand. Oh yes, Ellie was hearing him all right, and he obviously wasn’t pleased. Dragons, Ellie had told her, were quite possessive of what they thought was theirs. Marcus must believe that because she was a virgin, she was free for the claiming. Arrogant snake, she thought, hoping he was tuned in.
“That’s good of Eric, dear,” Ellie said, feigning a pleasant smile. Clearly, she had no intention on repeating Marcus’ reply.
“Yes, it is,” Sam smiled back pleasantly. “He’s also asked me to go to London with him next week for a conference. I was reluctant because he only booked one hotel room, but…” She was going to hate herself tomorrow for putting Ellie through this, but she and Marcus deserved it. “…I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
