Scorched (Rulers of the Sky Book 1)

by Paula Quinn

  When Ellie’s hand shook as she lifted her tea to her lips, Sam pushed out of her chair. “Where is he?” she demanded, bolting to her feet.

  Ellie looked up at her over her specs and blinked as if she had no clue what Sam was ranting about. “Who, dear?”

  “Oh, don’t give me that, Ellie. You know perfectly well who. He’s talking to you right now, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Marcus!” Sam called into the air, cutting Ellie off in mid-sentence. She would deal with her later. “If you have something to say, say it to me and stop yelling in Ellie’s head, you coward!”

  “Oh, I’m quite used to it by now,” Ellie defended him and then dipped her gaze to her teacup when Sam shot her an angry glance.

  “Fine then,” Sam bit out and turned on her bunny slippers. “Tell him that after next week there won’t be any reason for him to ever come back. I’ll fix the damn battlements myself!”

  “Sam, don’t be angry with him. You’ve no idea…” Ellie called out to her as Sam stormed out of the kitchen.

  Of all the sneaky, underhanded things to do! Sam fumed on her way up the stairs to the battlements. Using her friend to manipulate her into asking him to come back! She hadn’t truly planned on sleeping with Eric. She knew it would incite Marcus’ temper and possibly draw him out from wherever he was hiding. But now that she thought about it, it was the one thing that would keep Marcus away. Only, and God help her, she didn’t want him to stay away. She missed the way he smiled like the sun had just burst though the darkest recesses of his soul when he saw her.

  She plunged through the archway out of breath and afraid that she’d completely lost her mind. He was a freaking dragon! Or, at least, he used to be. A creature of fables, a freak of nature. And she was nothing more than a virgin to him. Maybe it was the thought of her virginity that always seemed to be lurking around her mind, that made her conjure up images of their bodies entwined, naked, sweating in the throes of her unveiling. Or maybe it was just Marcus sending those thoughts to her.

  “Sam?”

  She spun around, so clearly disappointed that the voice was not Marcus’ that her smile felt more like a scowl. If Eric noticed, he didn’t say.

  “Ellie, let me in on her way out,” he told her, stepping out onto the narrow ramparts. “She said you were up here searching for dragons.” He smiled, reaching her and took her into his arms. “You’ve no need to fear dragons, my darling, for your knight has arrived.”

  A cool chill swept across Sam’s nape and she glanced up nervously, expecting to see Marcus swooping in on them to toss Eric over the wall.

  “What on earth are you still doing in your pajamas?” he asked her, when she shivered in his arms. “It’s freezing.”

  She shrugged, keeping one eye on the skies as Eric drew her in closer. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned sleeping with Eric, after all. “Just thinking.”

  He didn’t ask her what she was thinking about, but ran the back of his fingers over her cheeks. “You’re flushed. You’ll catch your death.”

  “Well, I…”

  He caught the rest of her words with his mouth and kissed her.

  It could have been her imagination, but Sam was sure she heard the sound of great wings flapping somewhere overhead. She pressed her palms against Eric’s shoulders and struggled against him. “Eric, you’re right, it’s cold and windy up here.” She broke away from his embrace. “Maybe we should go inside. I’ll make us some tea.”

  “Brilliant,” Eric curled his fingers around hers and headed for the archway. “I could use a cup after the wretched morning I had on the phone with the mother of one of my patients. She insisted I prescribe something for little Stanley who’d come down with food poisoning…”

  I could put him out of our misery right now, if you like.

  The sudden invasion of Marcus’ voice in Sam’s head quickened her heart so fiercely, she gasped, looking around the parapet for him. A movement caught her eye to her right—a whisk of black coattails disappearing around the western wall. She stopped as the aching need to see him overwhelmed her good senses.

  “What’s wrong?” Eric tugged her gently and began to turn toward her.

  “Food poisoning?” Sam snapped to attention and practically leaped in front of him to pull him forward. “Poor Stanley. Eric, go on down. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  The pediatrician narrowed his coffee-colored eyes on her. “Sam, I don’t think you’re well. You’ve looked dreadful for weeks.”

  Far less dreadful than he’s going to look after I fling him down the stairs.

  Heaven help her, how could a voice sound so elegant and completely ruthless at the same time? Sam gulped and yanked her boyfriend forward. “I’m fine, Eric, really. There’s something I forgot to do. Please, go on. I’ll be down shortly.”

  “All right,” he conceded. “But don’t be long. I’ll start the tea.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled, battling the urge to slip her gaze over his shoulder to look for Marcus.

  When she was finally alone, she did. She would only stay a moment, just long enough for her to tell him what she thought of him for his little game with Ellie in her kitchen.

  But when she saw him perched on her eroding castle wall like a gargoyle…or a hauntingly beautiful fallen angel, his elbows resting easily on his bent knees, her anger vanished and a thread of fear fluttered across her heart. How much longer could she resist him? He turned to look at her and his raven hair blew across his face. She took a step toward him, arms stretched out as if to catch him. “You’ll fall, Marcus,” she called out, forgetting that he could fly.

  Her insides melted to a boil when he grinned as though he’d never seen anything brighter than the sight of her. With one smooth leap, he landed directly in front of her and dipped his face a fraction closer to hers.

  “I like your concern for me.” The thick cadence of his voice caressed her like loving fingers. “Did you miss me, Sam?”

  She shook her head, hoping he wasn’t reading her thoughts. She had to stay focused. He wasn’t dangerous. He was deadly. She knew it by the way his nearness made her feel so reckless, how the sound of him tempted her to abandon her hopes and fall, lost in his arms.

  He brought her hand to his lips, but before he pressed his warm kiss to her knuckles, he inhaled the scent of her skin and closed his eyes as if breathing in something vital to his existence.

  “How many of us have you deflowered since you left?” Sam pulled her hand away, remembering what he was and why he was here.

  The sting in her words was diffused by the ripple in her belly when he lifted his head and scorched her with eyes that burned with a single purpose. To have her. Her breast rose and fell heavily. His gaze dipped there for a brief moment before returning to hers. His mouth hooked into a slow half-smile that sought to slay what was left of her will.

  “There are very few of you left. And I believe I have found the diamond.”

  Sam didn’t care what he was talking about. His mouth was too close to hers, his breath, too hypnotic. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, remembering the fire in his kiss and wanting to feel it again.

  But he moved away, barely touching her.

  “Why did you come back?” she asked, angry with him and at herself for succumbing to his otherworldly wiles.

  “You know perfectly well why, Sam,” he said, turning back to her. “I cannot let you go off alone with that worm.”

  “Then you were listening.” Strengthening her will, she met his potent stare with a tilt of her chin. “Ellie is my friend, Marcus. You used her to get to me.”

  “She was willing to help me.”

  “Sure, because she has no idea what you really want to do to me.”

  “And what is so terrible about that?”

  She had to laugh, but there was no humor in the sound. The worst part was that he was serious. “I want something more.”

  “I don’t know if I have more to give.
” The flagrant arrogance that usually pulsed his rich voice was tempered by a sharp hook of regret as he gave in to the inevitable. “Drakkons are ancient beings with eons of knowledge and centuries of experience. But everything I know is meaningless as a man.”

  Suddenly, Sam saw him in a whole different light. Despite the intense virility seeping off him in waves, Marcus knew as much about being a man, especially a twenty-first century man, as an extraterrestrial who’d just been dropped off on planet Earth.

  “Ellie has been trying to help me.”

  “Help you what?”

  “Be better at this, though she insists that I’m as good as it gets. I figure if I’m stuck like this for a while, I might as well do it right. I should have been hunting someone who can help me regain what I lost, but instead, I spent my time with Ellie.”

  He wasn’t going to stay a man. He didn’t want to stay like this. Where would that leave her?

  “She has been dragging me to a dozen shops,” he continued, looking every bit as horrified by shopping as any other man. “I find today’s fashion miserably confining.”

  An image of his naked body flashed across her thoughts, a body that had never left her memory since the day she’d found him unconscious in her stable.

  “But,” he continued on, thankfully oblivious to her secret musings, “she insists that you will grow weary of seeing me in the same garments day-after-day.”

  Sam’s head was spinning. Did he care what she thought of him? Why would he? How long exactly would he be around? Sam didn’t want to think about it.

  “How did you pay for new clothes?”

  “I sold my Rolex,” he told her happily. “As it turns out, the watch was worth more than I thought. I was able to buy everything I’ll need to fix this place up, including your drawbridge.”

  She blinked. He sold his Rolex and used the money on her castle? It was the most thoughtful thing. Where did he get a Rolex?

  “Ellie has also been reading your story of Sir Tristan to me,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “and while I find your affinity toward knights rather irritating,” He tossed her a scowl, proving how difficult the past two weeks must have been for poor Ellie. “I think I now have a better understanding of what you desire in a companion.”

  “Do you?” The thought of him sitting through her weepy love stories turned Sam’s heart soft. No guy had ever wanted to understand her that bad. But before she had time to contemplate the advantages or consequences of this man crawling any deeper into her psyche, he moved toward her, temptation incarnate, all dark and dangerous and weakened by his need for her.

  “Send Eric away.” His warm breath danced over her lips as he bent toward her and cupped her cheek in his palm. “And let me show you what I have learned, Sam.”

  The teasing caress of his mouth was enough to get her moving. To hell with his unnatural powers of persuasion—if he possessed them. He’d gone the extra mile to get to know her. He’d paid for the materials needed to fix her home. All that and suffering through Lord Tristan’s tale had earned him a few hours alone with her.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, stepping out of his reach. She might be a virgin, but she knew how to cast a teasing smile a man’s way. She realized an instant after she forgot where she was going that Marcus was far better at it than she was.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tell him the thought of him near you makes you want to retch.

  Stop that, Marcus!

  Still on the battlements, Marcus smiled at Sam’s admonishment coming from below. By the stars, but he’d been in a foul mood these last two weeks. He didn’t even look for Thomas, so consumed was he with thoughts of Sam. But now, being with her again, he found his humor fully restored.

  Tell him his kiss was emptier than Padgora’s bank account, and viler than a boil on the ass of a White.

  A white what?

  No one to concern yourself with, Sam. Is the dimwit gone yet?

  If the worm was still here in ten minutes, he would go down and dispose of him himself.

  Here was yet another human emotion Marcus was unfamiliar with. Jealousy. But he told himself as he looked out over the battlements and let the cold breeze whip his hair away from his face, that he wasn’t actually jealous. At least he didn’t think he was. He simply didn’t want Eric anywhere near Sam. She was his, for now anyway—or, she would be once he won her heart the way Lord Tristan won the fair Lady Patrice.

  While he waited for her, he pondered what it would be like to mate with a virgin as a man. Would it be the same as when he ate them as a Drakkon? The thought of consuming Sam if he’d had met her as Marrkiya darkened his features. He never would have had the chance to look into her dark, luminous eyes and see, for the first time as a man, fear, awe, concern…innocence. If he had been a Drakkon when he met her, he never would have noticed the elegance of her fingers when they tucked her wispy brown hair behind her ear.

  “Marcus?”

  Or the dulcet sound of her voice speaking his name. He turned, and seeing her beneath the archway, smiling at him, set his heart to pounding. How could simply looking at a woman give him such pleasure? She had tiny shoulders and skinny wrists. A brisk enough wind could whisk her off her feet. He found himself moving toward her, drawn by the need to take her in his arms.

  “All your talk of retching gave me an idea,” she told him a bit out of breath. Had she hurried to return to him? “Eric has a queasy stomach and the moment I told him that I felt sick enough to hurl all over his five-hundred-dollar leather boots, he bade me farewell and made a hasty departure.”

  “Well done,” Marcus said, reaching her and conquering his most base desire.

  He did not want to push her too quickly. Ellie had assured him that if he behaved more like Sam’s knights, no matter how fiercely he detested them, he could steal her from Eric, mayhap even discover for himself if this love she sought so desperately was as powerful as her tales promised. Mayhap he could even use such a power as a Drakkon. But her scent pulled him to her against his human will. He wanted her like a scorched tongue wanted water. And she knew it. She could see it in his eyes—the wicked, needful greed of him.

  A breath away, he could smell the nectar pulsing through her veins. His ravenous gaze dipped to her mouth. He yearned to kiss her, to taste her first breath of anticipation. To cradle her in his arms while she surrendered to his touch. But she was an innocent, a maiden with as little experience in the art of mating as he had. He wanted them to share the pleasure of learning together.

  “The worm was correct about one thing,” he said quietly, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Your skin feels like ice.”

  Without another word, he bent and swept her into his arms. She did not protest as he cradled her close to his chest, but he could feel her heart thrashing against his like a frightened rabbit. He clenched his jaw at the way her body felt so small and soft in his hands. He had been a tremendously big Drakkon, and he’d always been aware of the power of that size, but never like this.

  Right now, he felt larger and stronger than any beast of legend. He wanted to protect her from everything he knew was wrong and dangerous in her world. Odd he should have such feelings toward a human, but here he was gazing down at her as if just the sight of her was enough to slay his mighty heart.

  He carried her to the solar, brooding fiercely at the shields and tapestries she had hung on its walls depicting knights in battle. He set her down gently on her feet. “I’ll feed the hearth fire.” He looked around for more wood and when he found but one log, he turned back to her with a frown. “Didn’t you know winter was coming? You have one log, Sam.” He waved it at her, then tossed it onto the dying flames. “It’s a good thing I came back. It’s obvious how much I am needed here.”

  “I was going to…,” her voice trailed off, but Marcus hardly took notice as he sighed at the weak golden blue flames. He had the urge to part his lips and breathe his mighty fire. But that part of him was gone, and he was losing more of h
imself every day.

  “Can you still do it?” Sam asked, pulling his anguished gaze to her.

  “Do what?”

  “Breathe fire?”

  “No, Sam, I cannot.”

  “Do you wish you could?”

  Yes, yes, he did. He wanted it all back. He’d known who he was then—a cold, uncaring beast with nothing more pressing on his thoughts than what would be his next meal. But he couldn’t tell her that. How could she understand what he’d lost?

  “You love to write, don’t you?” he asked her instead.

  “Yes.”

  “If you woke up one morning and you could never write again, would you wish you could? Would you miss telling your stories?”

  “Yes, I would miss it very much, Marcus,” she answered him quietly.

  He crossed the solar and took her hand in his on his way to the sofa. When he sat, he pulled her down gently into his lap and closed his arms around her.

  “You have no reason to fear me. I’ll prove to you that I’m not a monster.” He traced the full contour of her lips with the pad of his thumb and she trembled in his arms. “Nay, ssh,” he soothed gently. He whispered her name on a soft, needful breath. Her body fit neatly atop his thighs and his hand moved up her back to her neck, supporting her while he leaned in closer to kiss her.

  He made her breathless and weak. He could sense it, feel it coming off her in waves. She watched his lips coming closer. She sighed as his eyelids slowly closed, ready to capture her mouth. Her lips were warm beneath his, her mouth firm and sweet tasting. While he kissed her, his fingertips fluttered over her eyes, her nose, and then her lips. He broke the kiss to look into her eyes, luminous coal in the golden firelight.

  He felt her fear and heard her inner thoughts. She was afraid that if she gave herself to him she would never be the same again. She was drab and unexciting, happy in her little world of broken walls and poorly kept gardens.