Soulfire: A Dragon Fantasy Romance (Nightwing Book 1)

by Juliette Cross

  He swung me expertly at the curve of the dance floor, my body leaning and swaying as he directed. What other ways would my body obey his commands?

  “Any compliment from you, Miss Cade, is most welcome.” The teasing went both ways apparently. His eyes glinted with mischief, though his mask didn’t slip. And beyond the spark of devilry in his eyes lay the burning intensity I’d come to know so well. An intensity that made my throat dry up and my heart forget to beat. I needed to keep things light or lose my composure. “And how do you feel about Morgons crossing lines with humans?” He swept me into another turn, his cool features unwavering. “Politically speaking, of course.”

  I grinned, enjoying this playful part of him. It was actually a relief after the last time we’d spoken. He’d turned my insides out with his declaration, and this easy conversation calmed my nerves.

  “Oh, well, politically speaking, it seems to be wise, don’t you think? We live amongst one another after all. We must learn to live together if our society is to flourish.”

  “Mmm. Wise words.”

  “I can’t claim them as my own exactly. My sister Moira’s teacher is preaching this sort of unite-the-species philosophy in her class.”

  He tugged me tighter on the next turn, my breasts pressing against him. He did it on purpose, and I was struck dumb and turned on at the same time.

  “Speaking of business and politics, I’d like to talk about the paintings.”

  I flinched. “The paintings?”

  Arching a brow, he emphasized clearly, “My paintings.” No hint of a smile.

  For yet another drawn-out minute, I simply stared up at him, suddenly terrified how to proceed. I’d walked out of that gallery without confronting my own feelings about him…about us. The fact that he appeared in desperate longing for my answer froze me into a speechless idiot.

  “Jessen.”

  His dark whisper of my name as he clenched me tight, molding his body to mine wasn’t doing me any favors in finding my tongue and learning how to use it again. He clenched his jaw. A red wall of heat inflamed his neck and cheeks, his stony expression slipping to one filled with fiery emotion. Keeping his firm grip on me, he slowed our progression around the dance floor.

  “Are you going to pretend you didn’t see them?” His words rumbled low and gravelly, reaching places within me I didn’t even know existed. “Are you going to pretend you didn’t see my full intentions on that wall in the gallery?”

  I swallowed hard, holding his gaze. “No.”

  Good. I was able to form one word at least. But he wanted more than that, I could tell. The anxiety written in the tight lines of his brow told me he recognized the fear skittering across my eyes. But I wasn’t afraid for the reasons he thought.

  He spun us to a corner, nearly giving me whiplash, blocking me from view of the throng, his expression fierce. The hand on my waist drifted up to encircle my neck, his thumb resting on my pulse. I didn’t move an inch, letting him shift his body closer, a wall of heat threatening to set me aflame.

  “Do you want to know why I painted you…so many times?”

  The heat pouring from his intense gaze kicked my pulse into a hyper-speed. Fortunately, I was lucid enough to be able to nod dumbly.

  Stroking his thumb down over my collarbone, he followed the movement with his gaze, sweeping down my neck to the sweetheart cut of my dress then back up, lingering at my lips, and finally up to my eyes. There, he held me hard, dipping his head lower to mine.

  “The only way to free my mind was to pour you onto the canvas.”

  “And…did it work?” I stammered out in a rush. “Are you finally free of me?”

  A long, desperate rake of his eyes across my face. “No.” A gentle stroke of his thumb along my pulse. “I fear,”—his voice faltered—“I fear I never will be.” He dipped his head even lower into my intimate space. “Nor do I want to be.” Still stroking his thumb at the base of my throat, he stared and licked his lips before meeting my gaze again. “I was telling you the truth in the gallery,” he whispered now, still blocking out the world with his massive, beautiful body and wings. “I burn for you, Jessen.”

  If I’d thought my tongue was tied before, I was sadly mistaken. The fierce heat in his gaze told me everything I needed to know. This was serious. Dead serious. And I’d better woman up and confess that my feelings aligned with his, but that I was terrified of taking such a large step—giant leap across a mile-wide canyon more like—when I’d known him so short a time. When I knew the consequences for me would be extreme when my family found out.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked. Of course, he saw the fear in my expression. He could read everything. His grip was firm, his gaze sharp, but his expression was tender and his voice gentle. He waited patiently as I weighed what to say, despite looking as if he was ready to sweep me off my feet and carry me off to his castle. Well, I suppose cave might be the better metaphor in this case. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor; he was a fire-breathing dragon ready to claim his treasure.

  Finally summoning the courage to tell him how I felt, I licked my lips and said, “Lucius, I—”

  The orchestra stopped suddenly. My father tapped the microphone on the dais, welcoming guests to the first annual United Charity Ball. “If my family could join me up here on stage, please.”

  Without saying another word, I broke from Lucius’s piercing gaze and warm embrace to weave toward the stage. I shuddered when I stepped up to where my family and Aron’s family stood side by side. I knew they’d be here since all of his business partners were, but seeing Aron’s hungry eyes made me wince and look away. Hurry, Father. I wished he’d finish with the formalities so I could escape to a darkened corner with the Morgon man towering above the crowd, watching me intently at that very moment.

  I tuned everyone out but him. I knew I was smiling more than etiquette required. My heart soared at the sight of him. I could hardly keep still. I noticed other faces of the crowd flitting to me, people smiling back. A scowl darkened Lucius. Someone grabbed me about the waist. Aron grinned down at me, like the cat who caught the oblivious mouse. I jerked my head to my father.

  “Therefore, everyone… Please raise your glass as I take this proud moment to toast and congratulate them—the future Mr. and Mrs. Aron Grayson!”

  My world tilted sideways, teetering toward mass destruction. Through a haze of rage, I heard a roar of polite applause as everyone in the room lifted their glass. Except me. And Lucius.

  Chapter 11

  “And now, a waltz for the newly engaged couple.” Cade shouted from the stage.

  It couldn’t be true. Couldn’t. Her smile said yes, her eyes said no.

  I remembered him, the asshole who manhandled her the first night I met her at Acropolis. I nearly broke his arm. I wished I had. And then some.

  The bastard hauled her off stage and into his arms. I trembled as my beast shook to let the rage fly. I longed to surrender, to crush bone, to make bleed, to burn to cinders. It would only take a few seconds to annihilate him into ash. No matter how irrational the man inside me knew these thoughts were, the dragon couldn’t give a fuck.

  The asshole led her away into the crowd of dancers. I couldn’t see her face, but his expressed a triumphant man, having a prize in his arms he’d wanted for some time. One of his hands tightened low on her hip. Blood filled my vision.

  She’d lied to me. Lied. My jaw clenched. Something popped. I swept toward the door, only to be caught by my father.

  “Lucius. Why the scowl, son?”

  I couldn’t even form an answer.

  “Remove the look of death from your face before the natives think you plan to eat them.” He smiled to a passerby.

  “I need to leave,” I growled.

  “Not yet. Cade wants us to celebrate the nuptials of his daughter to the Grayson boy. After that, I’d say we’ve all done our part and can escape this charade.”

  I followed in my father’s wake, readying myself to toast
to the new couple, eager to make her squirm. In the mood I was in now, we’d all be lucky if I made it from this ballroom without bloodshed.

  Lorian stood with his back to the wall, his hands clasped in front of him, wearing the appearance of a guest enjoying the party. But I knew otherwise. He was ready to bolt from this farce, but not as fast as I was.

  The burn built with lightning speed, singeing me from the inside out, ricocheting into my limbs with crippling fire. I took a position next to Lorian and swept the dance floor, seeking her. They were on the far side, engulfed by dancers. I could only see the top of her beautiful dark head. Heartsick agony threatened to knock me to the floor. I wiped the back of my hand across my now sweaty brow.

  “Fucking hell,” grumbled Lorian in a whisper next to me. “Are you going to pass out?”

  “No.” Definitely more dragon than man in my voice now.

  I felt the weight of Lorian’s gaze on me. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

  He chuckled low, and for the first time since we were kids I wanted to smash my brother’s face in. But this wasn’t his fault. I suppose it was laughable. The eldest Nightwing son of the famously powerful dragon clan reduced to this pathetic, shaking mess for a human woman who didn’t want him.

  “You’re thinking you’ve been rejected for that asshole, Aron Grayson. That she led you to believe there was something between you when she had plans to marry another man.”

  I could barely breathe—air winding in and out of my lungs like vaporous flame—much less speak. So I said nothing.

  “What you probably failed to note was the shock on her face when her father made the announcement and perhaps anger that shortly followed.”

  Still, I said nothing.

  “You can’t see through your rage, Lucius. Trust me. I know that feeling well. You need to calm down before you do or say something you’ll regret. That’s also something I know a lot about.”

  “Lorian,” I ground out with difficulty, “you don’t know who she—”

  “I know exactly who she is to you.” He’d shifted closer. “Which is why you need to calm the fuck down and stop staring at everyone like you want to spray the walls with their blood.”

  I did want to. But only one man’s blood. The one holding my Jessen in his arms across the room. I closed my eyes and fisted my hands till the knuckles cracked, willing my mind and body to cool down. Breathing slow and deep, I managed to reel back the beast from raze-the-village-to-the-ground fury to break-only-the-bones-of-my-enemy hatred.

  “Good,” growled Lorian. “Now let’s see if we can get through the rest of the evening without starting a war between humans and Morgonkind, shall we?”

  I had my doubts.

  From the second Aron had hauled me into his arms, I’d bitten into the side of my cheek to keep from screaming and making a scene. I peered over the crowd, trying to find Lucius. I caught a glimpse of two black-winged Morgons in the vicinity of my father’s table. Aron gripped my hip, much lower than was proper, and whirled me again.

  “I’m done with this charade.” I wrenched from his grasp, edging off the dance floor. Before I made three steps, he grabbed my wrist and pulled my back flush to his front, one arm wrapping my waist.

  I glared at him over my shoulder. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I struggled to break free. He held me hard, smiling like an ass to an onlooker.

  “Watch your language,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “It’s unbecoming of a proper lady, especially one who is to be my wife.”

  “The hell I am. I’m not marrying you. Are you dense or something?” I twisted out of his grip. “Must I literally spell it out for you? Or is even reading beyond your comprehension?”

  Unperturbed, though gray eyes went glacial for a second, he gripped my arm in what might look like a loving touch to others, while his fingers curled into my tender flesh. “Have you ever wondered why you never had a boyfriend?”

  I blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  “I mean, isn’t it odd someone as wealthy and as beautiful as you has never held the attention of one man for any length of time? And you are beautiful, sweetheart. I love this dress, though the color is a bit stark.” His free hand slid over my hipbone in a sensual caress.

  “Stop touching me that way.” An angry flame burned in my belly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, only that you’ve never had a boyfriend, because I made sure of it.”

  A sinking sensation washed over me as if I were being swallowed whole by the earth. It was true. Every time I’d become really attracted to a guy, he’d lose interest after a couple of dates. “What do you mean?”

  His eyes seared into mine, fixing me with cold brutality. His grip on my arm and hip tightened. “You are mine. You always have been. I watched and waited. I made sure every adolescent upstart who thought to have you knew you were already taken. Understand me, sweetheart, this will happen. Accept it, so we can get on with our lives, because I’ve waited long enough. My patience is running out.” His eyes dropped to my cleavage. He might as well have slapped me.

  He was insane, literally insane. I shoved his hands off me, staying close enough for his ears only.

  “Let me explain something to you, bastard. I don’t give a damn how many public announcements my father makes. He can take out an advertisement on every skyline billboard in the city for all I care. I have never been yours and never will be.” Fury lacing every word, I couldn’t help but pour out my heart. “As a matter of fact, I’m in love with someone else, and he could kick your ass into dust. So, stay away from me, and leave me alone.”

  Someone grabbed my arm at the elbow with a tight hold. Father leaned close with a plastic grin for those who looked our way. “Smile, daughter,” he grated with steel in his voice, “or you’ll regret it.” He gestured with a nod to Aron. “Son, why don’t you head back to our table while Jessen and I have a chat.”

  Aron’s fuming form brushed past us. As soon as he was out of earshot, I turned to my father. “Whose idea was this? Yours or Aron’s?”

  “Aron and I both have your best interests at heart.” He spoke brightly to a passing couple. “Evening, Terrington! Glad you could make it.”

  “If you had my best interests at heart, you’d actually care about what I wanted.”

  “Aron is from one of the finest families in the city, and next to us, the wealthiest. There is no better match. He would take care of you. Offer you a secure lifestyle.”

  Not true. The Nightwings were far wealthier, but he’d never consider them one of the finest families. “If you love him so much, you marry him,” I snapped. “It’s not like you give any attention to your own wife.”

  His hold tightened in a painful grip. “You will smile and be a proper hostess, as is befitting a lady of your class. Do you really want to shun your duty to your family?” An iron gaze pinned me in place. The same look that made me feel five years old and powerless. “If you choose to reject this perfect match I’ve arranged for you, then you will no longer be a part of this family. You will lose everything. You will never see your mother or Moira again.”

  I gasped, tears pricking behind my eyes. He knew where to hurt me most.

  “Am I making myself clear?”

  I gulped a breath of air and nodded. He hauled me through the crowd toward our table.

  “Now, put a smile on your face. The Nightwings want to offer their personal congratulations.”

  “No!”

  “What did you say?” Ice in his voice.

  I shook my head and bit my lip.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Father couldn’t understand the real reason I didn’t want to stand there and receive congratulations from the Nightwings. He only saw defiance. Never see Moira again? I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, managing to paste on a wooden smile. We drew near the table where Lucius stood in conversation with Aron. My heart plum
meted into my stomach.

  Both men turned my way, one grinning, one not. Aron didn’t know as he clapped a friendly hand on Lucius’s shoulder that the Morgon man was a time-bomb of restrained fury, his face fixed in granite, anger brimming in his eyes.

  “There you are, sweetheart!”

  I winced.

  “I was telling Lucius here that we’ll let bygones be bygones after the misunderstanding at his club the other night.”

  I cringed at the sound of Lucius’s name on Aron’s lips. He didn’t have the right to speak his name. He was dirt beneath Lucius’s feet. Looking at them side-by-side, my mind tallied the differences. Physically, there was absolutely no comparison. A foot and a half shorter, Aron looked like a boy next to Lucius. But the arrogant slant of his mouth and the look of highborn superiority in his eyes aged Aron to a grotesque specimen of my father’s ilk.

  “Tell me,” Lucius began, his deep baritone rolling in a deceptive string of silky words. “When did you two become engaged? And when are we to celebrate this happy event?”

  I didn’t miss the cynical emphasis on happy. Aron did. He barreled ahead, oblivious to the stalking predator at his side. I gulped, lacing my fingers into a tight ball to keep from shaking.

  “Jessen and I have been betrothed for years, actually. We just finally made it official.”

  “Is that so?” The predator’s voice dipped to a growl, feral flare in his eyes.

  My chest rose and fell a bit faster. I focused on controlling my breathing.

  Aron looked back to the table where my mother and Mrs. Grayson were deep in conversation, probably making wedding plans. Bile rose into my throat.

  Aron shouted over at Mrs. Grayson. “Mother, when should we set the date?”

  “Oh, I think a spring wedding would be lovely, don’t you, Beatrice?”

  My mother nodded and smiled her perfect smile. “Absolutely. We can start shopping for the dress next week.”

  My pulse pounded so loud, I was sure everyone could hear it. The whole time, Lucius’s eyes never left mine, making me wish I was invisible, but something told me his burning gaze would always seek and find me.