by Mina Khan
Jen gawked at her. “You thought Jack was the rogue dragon?”
“I considered the possibility.” Her answer earned her a glare.
“Are you nuts? He’s been nothing but nice to you since you got here. Was I a suspect too?”
“Don’t be silly,” Lynn said, folding her arms across her front. “And I had my reasons.” She listed a few: always first on scene, childhood history, arsonists.
Jen shook her head. “You can’t reduce people to statistics and patterns. You have to see them for who they are. You have to see with your heart.”
Anger flared inside Lynn. “You asked me to find and stop an arsonist. Investigations don’t involve the heart.”
Sorrow colored Jen’s face. “You’re afraid.”
Lynn slammed her empty cup onto the counter. “Of course I’m afraid. I’m dealing with a dragon and a mind-control freak.”
“You’re afraid of falling in love, being vulnerable,” Jen said. “You’re afraid of your human side.”
“This isn’t helping. Can we save the psychoanalysis for after we’ve nailed whoever or whatever is burning up Paradise Valley?”
“Fine.” Jen drew in a deep breath. “Now that you’ve been investigating, do you still think Jack is the rogue dragon?”
“No.” Not the rogue, but still a dragon. Was he working with Henry? Somehow she didn’t think so.
Gathering both empty cups, Jen asked, “So what’s next? What do we do?”
“Thanks for the coffee.” Lynn climbed off the stool and grabbed the mugs from Jen, who protested indignantly, then headed for the sink. “As for what we are going to do next is, you’re going to get some sleep and I’m going take over the Jack watch for the next few hours.”
“That’s your plan?”
Lynn rinsed out the mugs and placed them on the drainer. Wiping her hands on the dish towel near the sink, she turned. Jen stood there with hands fisted at her hips. “You got something better?”
“No.” Jen sagged against the counter. “But what about Henry? What if he disappears?”
“He’s already disappeared for tonight,” Lynn said. “I don’t think he’ll be returning to his apartment. Even if he does, I’m not ready to confront him.”
Lynn watched Jack sleep. His regular breathing, neither too deep nor too slow, reassured her enough to let her study him. His face looked young and peaceful on the milk chocolate pillow. Her gut insisted he didn’t know about his dragon heritage. But how could that be?
Her eyes traveled along the line of his throat, the tanned muscles of his arm and over the exposed part of his chest. Jen must have helped him undress. A stab of jealousy flared through her. She pulled her gaze back to his face.
His dark hair spilled over the large bandage on his forehead. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. She remembered her tail smacking into Jack, lifting him up and flinging him, the sickening thud of his landing, then the dark spill of blood. Lynn bit back the whimper threatening to emerge. Unable to sit still any longer, she shut her book and rose from the chair. Wincing at the ache in her back, she tiptoed closer to him.
Her gaze traced the lines of his face, taking in the thick, dark brows, the square, strong jaw. She swallowed. God, he was delicious. And she was dangerous. She’d hurt him.
Lynn turned away and returned to her book and chair. Both looked about as inviting as a trip to the dentist. She bit her lower lip and glanced at the bed again, at the man who lay tangled in chocolate sheets and sky blue quilt. A liquid warmth spread inside her, rushed her senses.
Trembling, she lowered herself into the chair. A twinge of protest ran through her muscles in anticipation of her cramped position. She shot out of the chair. “Stop being an idiot,” she muttered. The bed was big enough and Jack lay on the far left side of it. She could easily sleep on the other side without disturbing him. “We are both responsible adults here.” She ran a hand over the soft cotton sheets. “Tired, worn out adults.”
Giving into her tiredness, she sank onto the soft mattress.
Lynn woke to darkness and the feel of a warm, hard masculine body spooned against her back. Heavy, muscled arms wrapped around her. A large hand cupped her right breast. She stiffened. She needed to get out of bed and away from him. But Jack’s heady scent, spicy and male, intoxicated her, lulling her into lying quietly in his secure arms.
He stirred, pressing his stiff erection against her behind, squeezing and massaging her breast gently. Thank God for her t-shirt. The thin cotton was a flimsy barrier, but at least it was there between her skin and his. Her mind screamed danger, but she found herself pushing her traitorous ass against him, responding to the slow rhythm of his hands.
A soft groan escaped him. His breathing increased as she continued to grind herself against him. His hands slipped under her t-shirt. Lynn shivered at the friction of his calloused palms against her peaked nipples. Warm breath and a brush of lips against her neck had her arching back. The graze of teeth on skin set her on fire.
Half-swallowing a moan, Lynn twisted and turned in his arms to lie face to face with him. “Jack?” she whispered on a breath.
He fisted his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back. Then Jack’s mouth covered hers. His body pressed against her. Hot need boomeranged between them, back and forth.
The kiss was warm and urgent. Lynn’s body melted and molded to his. She kissed him back hungrily. She wasn’t aware of anything but the surge of hot, searing pleasure rushing through her. Once again dragon and woman met in rare agreement— this man felt right.
Fiery desire razed her. She wanted more. Her hands roamed across his warm skin, exploring every dip and curve, slid lower. He shuddered beneath her palms. Lynn stopped when the top of his boxers met her fingers, hesitated. Sanity spoke up, told her to stop. This would be a mistake.
His lips traced their way down her neck, opened wide and latched on. Teeth and tongue nipped and sucked at her skin. Lynn cried out, spasmed, wrapped her fingers around his erection. He groaned and shoved himself more fully into her hand. His mouth reclaimed hers.
Her fingers fumbled, found the opening, slipped inside. Her hand grasped his hard, hot sex, slid over smooth satin skin.
Suddenly the kiss became gentler. His tongue, which had been tangling with hers, circled lazily. His fingers let go of her hair. She let go of him, pulled back her hand. When his lips slipped from hers, she wanted to cry.
“This isn’t a dream is it?” His voice, thick and heavy with lust, lay between them in the dark.
Lynn couldn’t answer.
He reached over and across her and switched on the lamp on the bedside table. Lynn crunched her eyes shut against the flood of brightness, then slowly opened them. Jack stared at her with soft, sleepy eyes and mussed up hair.
Kiss me. She reached out to touch his face.
Kiss me. A soft feminine whisper, full of need, rolled around Jack’s mind. He skittered away from Lynn fast, landing with a thump on the floor. “Get out of my head.”
They stared at each other.
He looked down at his bare chest. Who’d undressed him? Slowly he raised his gaze to meet inscrutable dark eyes.
Lynn sat on the bed tugging her t-shirt into place. A simple white t-shirt that clung to all the right places and set off her tanned skin perfectly. A t-shirt that she didn’t wear much under as he’d discovered. His cock stirred at the thought and warmth spread across his face. Thank God he still had his underwear.
Wait a freaking minute. This was the woman who’d turned into Godzilla. He took a deep breath. Okay, maybe not Godzilla. Something smaller and prettier, but still scary with sharp teeth and fiery breath.
“Jack, what is it?” Lynn’s brows puckered as she tilted her head to one side. “You’re making strange faces.”
“What are you doing here?” Waiting to eat him. That would be an effective way to keep her secret. His gaze darted around the room. The chair. She lay between it and him. The lamp? Somehow he didn’t think a lamp
would faze the beast. Why the hell didn’t he stash a fire extinguisher in his bedroom? God, he sounded loony toons.
She sat still, her gaze wary. “You have a concussion and the doctor wanted someone to wake you every two hours. Jen and I are taking turns.” She scooted toward the edge of the bed.
Jack scrambled back and up. Concussion…maybe that explained his crazy thoughts. “Uh, gotta go.” Clutching the sheets to himself, he dashed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.
Chapter 23
Once the lock clicked into place, Jack sagged against the bathroom door and rested his forehead against the unyielding cool wood. His head seemed stuffed with packing peanuts, each thought cushioned and indistinct. What exactly had happened?
Ironically, he’d thought about their conversation at Tavistock’s ranch and reached the conclusion that he needed to talk to Lynn, figure out what she meant by “I heard you.”
Jack stumbled to the sink, wrenched open the faucet and splashed some water on his face. The icy cold water on his skin, made him gasp, cleared his thoughts a bit. Pull your shit together. He grabbed a towel and buried his face in its softness. He’d decided she was important to him and he couldn’t let her go without a fight. Of course, as soon Jen had told him that Lynn was out with Henry, he’d gone all primal and rushed off to stake his claim.
Instead, he’d found her struggling with Henry and a rage —more fierce and hot than anything he’d ever felt— had shook him to his soul. Jack took a deep breath and ignored the whisper of heat his recollection called up from deep within. Focus. He’d pulled Lynn out from the asshole’s truck. Then turned to deal with Henry.
Jack rubbed his sore jaw. Henry had turned out to be quite a little fighter. And then there was this monster. He’d looked around for Lynn. But there was just this thing, breathing fire, watching him through cold reptilian eyes. He shook his head, before stopping as the pain gonged through his head. Had he already had the concussion and imagined the beast? He touched his sore ribs and winced. The injury was real. But how had he been hurt?
He stared at the bathroom door. The person on the other side probably had some answers. All his muscles bunched up and tightened. Every time he thought of her, the image of the beast came crashing through his mind. Impossible. People couldn’t change into beasts. Could they? Jack raked a hand through his hair, groaned when his fingers brushed a sore spot.
After a couple of calming breaths, he snagged his robe hanging behind the bathroom door and pulled it on. Ridiculous as it was, that single layer of cotton made him feel less vulnerable. He tightened the belt. There had to be a rational explanation, and he meant to get it.
Jack sauntered out of the bathroom and made a beeline for his closet, giving Lynn a wide berth. Had he really heard her whisper in his head? Kiss me. He focused on the floor, on putting one foot ahead of another. If he could avoid looking at her, he’d be able to think straight. He threw the doors open and searched through his shirts.
“Do you want me to leave?” Her voice, low and throaty, whispered over his skin. He barely suppressed a telltale shiver.
“No.” He fingered a cotton blue and white striped shirt. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
Clutching a gray sweatshirt, a white t-shirt and jeans, he turned to face her. She lounged in the bed, supported by a bank of pillows, and watched him. In his bed. Memory of skin sliding over skin threatened to overwhelm him. He swallowed. “About what happened.”
“You mean the kiss?” She folded her arms across her chest and raised her chin.
“Ah, no.” His mouth tingled. He touched his lips, then dropped his hand as if burned. Maybe the sweatshirt would be too warm. Did he need to open a window?
Lynn swung her legs off the bed and walked to the door. Damn, the woman had a nice ass. She turned and leaned against the door jamb. Her eyes, dark and cold as winter nights, stared from an impassive face. “Oh, you mean my turning dragon.”
The clothes dropped from his hands as a strangled laugh pushed from this throat. “Dragon?” No one can turn into a dragon.
“I did.” The quiet conviction in her voice stunned him.
He blinked. Had she heard his thoughts? Jack bought himself some time by gathering up the clothes. “That’s not possible.”
“People used to think it wasn’t possible to sail around the world either.”
He rubbed his jaw, the rough scratch of stubble on skin helped anchor him to reality. “That’s different,” he said. “People just didn’t know enough of the world.”
“There’s still a lot people don’t know about the world.”
Jack studied her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the bleak expression on her face, and the stubborn-set of her chin. “Is this some kind of a weird joke?”
“I’m not joking,” Lynn said. “Trust me.”
Okay, she was crazy. Or he was. One of them was crazy and delusional. “Give me a reason to.”
“You’re in your house, alive and in one piece.”
Reason warred with his fear as images of the beast filled his mind. Standing in the doorway, she’d effectively cut off his escape. Her words sat heavy and true between them. If —that was a big if— she could really turn dragon, she could also have killed him at any point between his losing conscience at Jim’s and waking at the hospital. Presumably, it was Lynn who’d got him to the doctors. He owed her.
His mind whispered: Predator. Goose bumps danced across his skin, but he forced himself to stand still. “Fine. I’m listening.”
She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. “Would you feel better if I called Jen to be part of this conversation?”
He did not need someone to hold his hand. “No thanks. This is between you and me.”
“Okay, watch me.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
The air shimmered and boiled around Lynn, thickening, almost becoming tangible. Energy snapped and crackled, filling the room with soft, whispered noises. The temperature grew warm, warmer, hot. He swiped sweat off his brow.
Iridescent blue green scales rippled across her skin and encased her like some new-fangled armor. Her fingers shot out curved claws, dark and deadly, like the razor-sharp beaks of birds of prey. Holy Shit! Jack bit down hard on his tongue to kill the scream building inside, to make sure he was awake. Pain flashed along his nerves then disappeared. She stood there still, alien and frightening.
Her body pushed to stretch, as if struggling to escape its prison of skin and bones. The writhing and contortions looked painful. His throat snapped closed and he struggled to breathe. His brain yelled run, but his legs refused to move. He stared at her, demanding answers without words.
The t-shirt tightened across her body, seams popped. Lynn’s eyes flew open and she stared at him through glowing, cat-like eyes. She breathed in short, heavy spurts. “Like whaat you seeeessss?”
The tortured, hissing words rasped across him like sandpaper, awakening him to an unreal reality. With a half-strangled shout, he stumbled back into the closet. No escape. His hands searched for something, anything, to use as a weapon.
“I guessss notssss.” She closed her eyes again.
Should he barrel past her? He’d played football once and he knew how to sprint and body slam someone. The chances of him pulling it off were pretty good. His gaze flew to those scythe-like claws. Or maybe not.
Suddenly the claws retracted and disappeared into human fingers. As he watched, Lynn grew smaller and returned to her familiar height and shape. The scales receded like waves rushing from a beach, leaving behind only golden, unmarred skin.
“Fuck.” Breath, he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, whooshed out of him. This time when her eyes opened they were the familiar black, but no more comforting. Jack glanced away from their cold, dark depths.
She took a tentative step forward, and he backed further into the unyielding hardness of the closet. Almost climbed onto the shelf.
“I’m not going to harm you
.” Her voice sounded quiet and normal.
How could she change so fast? How could she change at all? What was she? None of this made sense.
She took another step forward.
“Stop, stop right there!”
“I won’t harm you.” Her voice cool, empty, cracked at the end. It was that bit of dissonance, of vulnerability, that finally seeped into his conscience.
“I know, but you’re damn scary.”
Lynn looked away and stared at the wall. She wrapped her arms around herself.
He’d hurt her feelings. Could a monster even have feelings? A real monster, not the Disney version. He shook his head. “Okay, a part of me knows you won’t eat me, but the rest of me is just reacting without thinking.”
“Yeah, your body seems to do that around me.”
An image of her in his arms formed, then erupted into a monster, all spewing flames and snapping teeth. He almost made a break for it, but crossed his arms and forced himself to stand his ground. “Look this is some crazy shit and I’m trying to deal with it the best I can.” His face warmed as a heaviness settled inside him. “We need to talk about everything.”
Oh God, I’ve been lusting after a beast.
She flinched as if struck, then straightened her back and faced him. “Yeah, I guess we do,” she said. “The kiss was nice, but I don’t have time for such distractions. I’m here on serious business.”
Shameful relief spread through him at her words. He just couldn’t imagine being with her, now that he knew what she was. Beast. A shiver trembled through him. No, don’t go there. “What business?”
“Figuring out who’s been lighting fires all over Paradise Valley.”
Adrenaline spike through his veins. He leaned toward her. “Do you know who it is?”
She shrugged. “I have an idea.”
