Immortal Heat (The Guardians of Dacia Book 1)

by Loni Lynne

  No sense of wearing it, though. She'd never be able to keep it on with all of her morphing and shredding.

  Wrapping it up, she placed the medallion back in the security of the zippered pocket. It would be fine until she could get home, whenever that was.

  Opening the heavy drapes, Marilyn stared out over the serenity of the snow covered pass. It appeared as if she were on top of the world. The wicked crags and crevices that made up the steep sides weren't inhabitable by man or beast, but they were beautiful.

  A floating speck far beyond the first rise of cliffs caught her attention. The creature soared and swooped gracefully with a colossal wingspan. At first she thought it might be a hawk, but even from this distance, she wouldn't be able to see it as clearly as she could this creature. She strained her sight, focusing on the details, but couldn't quite grasp shape or size.

  It brought to mind her odd dream last night. She'd been flying, cradled against a large serpentine body. Draylon's voice had drifted in and out of her head telling her to sleep, that she was in shock and needed to close her eyes and rest. She remembered coming to a stop. Her eyes had opened, she noticed a tragic white mar along the reptilian flesh. She traced her hand over the scar, feeling the deep loneliness and ache from the creature, sensing a connection so painfully sharp, only to have Draylon's voice lull her back to sleep.

  Donovan knocked and entered upon her greeting. He crossed the room to make her bed.

  "Can you tell me what this is?" she asked, motioning to the window.

  "What what is?"

  Donovan walked over to the window, and she pointed out to the speck in the distance.

  "Possibly a hawk. We have some magnificent winged creatures in this area."

  "It's too big to be a hawk at that distance. And the shape is not quite right for a hawk."

  "Hard to say, miss. These old eyes aren't what they used to be."

  Marilyn sighed. "I wish I had some binoculars."

  Donovan went to close the drapes as if part of his job.

  "No, it's okay. Leave them open. It's beautiful out there."

  He shrugged and went back to fluffing pillows and straightening the covers before leaving the room and shutting the doors.

  Marilyn went back to watching the bird-creature, hoping it would come closer, even just a mountain ridge or two this way would be good. She pulled up one of the chairs and watched. She had nothing better to do. Moments later she stood as the creature flew closer, its size drawing her. But the shape was not that of a bird, not unless one had a long tail.

  She stared in awe. The raven colored beast soared and dipped on the alpine currents. He opened his wings, the span was twice the length of his body. Dear God! She blinked her eyes to clear her mind. Was that what she thought it was? It wasn't possible.

  "Donovan." She ran out of the room, calling his name. "Donovan!"

  The halls were empty. "Draylon!" she called out for him in case he was nearby. He had to see this to believe it.

  Flinging open every door along her route, she found no one else. Empty rooms, not even any furniture, dominated most of the floor. She ran to Draylon's office but he wasn't there either.

  Where was everyone? She'd just seen what she thought to be something out of fables and folklore…and she'd really seen it.

  Hurrying down to the main floor, she searched the large chef's kitchen and elaborate dining hall with a table for twenty. The library and study were empty, too.

  "Donovan? Draylon?" She ran from room to room, up and down the massive corridors.

  The east wing door opened at the far end of the hall, and Draylon stood there in naked glory. His sleek body shining with sweat. Marilyn ran to him.

  "What are you doing up? You should be resting."

  "Draylon, you'll never guess what I just saw," she squealed. "A dragon! I saw a dragon."

  "She's hallucinating, my lord." Donovan came up behind her. "She'd been watching one of the mountain hawks circling in the distance from her bedroom window. I fear she might be suffering from the fever again."

  "No, I feel fine," Marilyn tried to argue. "I did see a dragon. He was magnificent with an enormous wingspan, so graceful and perfect soaring out there." She rambled on as Draylon lifted her in his arms and walked with her down the hall where she came from.

  "I'm sure he was." He smiled, placating her as a child telling a fantastical tale of imaginary friends to an adult. He kissed her forehead. "You are still running a fever. Let's get you back to bed."

  But she felt fine. Why didn't he believe her? She knew what she saw. She looked into Draylon's deep blue eyes, trying to gage what he was saying, feeling. There were so many thoughts and secrets jumbled there in his mind. Her head felt fuzzy, and all she could do was hold on to him. Maybe she was sick.

  Draylon settled Marilyn into a deep slumber. Lying beside her he touched her hair, brushing it from her face. He placed his fingertips lightly against her temples, imparting his memory loss techniques, erasing the image of her seeing the dragon.

  Marilyn's breathing pattern took on that of true sleep, and yet he lay wide awake staring at the canopied ceiling of his bed. What was up with him lately? He'd gone decades, even centuries without his Zmeu form coming out, yet now it demanded to be released. And it didn't even have anything to do with sexual stimulation. He looked at the sweet sleeping form and glared down at his erection. Well, it didn't.

  She'd been in a bad way yesterday, and the only way he could get her to safety was by his true form. He wasn't sure he would be able to keep his secret because Marilyn had roused from her slumber several times and he'd had to coax her back to dreamland. When they'd landed and she'd noticed his ancient scar, his body, no…his soul had reacted. Her touch had lit a fire so deep inside of him he felt like an old furnace being brought back to life after centuries without fuel.

  Like a man needing a cold shower to shock his system back into control, his restless night had led to a fierce need to emerge and ride the winds. He'd taken a big risk, flying around without a care. He hadn't expected Marilyn to be awake and watching him, though.

  Rick needed to hurry up and decide what had to be done. There wasn't much more he could take with Marilyn around him. The constant aching need to be with her drove him insane. He'd had his fair share of female companions over the centuries and could take them or leave them for the most part. Even the ones he'd had a long-term romantic relationship didn't feel as electrifying as what he sensed with Marilyn.

  Was it because she was Dacian? There was no doubt. Her ability to morph into wolf proved that. He had to consider the possibility of the kindred connection. Still, he refused to take the risk of making love with her physically and exposing the truth behind what he was. The danger was too great of having her terrified like the other women had been. His nightmares consisted of the attack on the Zmei and watching the women he'd cared for witness what he was. He would die if he had to view Marilyn's terrorized shock.

  She snuggled closer into him, burrowing like a kitten against his chest. Her sleepy sighs and warm breath tickled but in a good way. Holding her like this, he felt at peace.

  The sound of light snoring roused her from sleep. She'd been lying so relaxed that she hadn't remembered how she got here.

  Skin met her hand. It moved beneath her fingers. Marilyn looked up to see Draylon sleeping, his head at an odd angle propped up on the pillows as if he'd fallen asleep in a half lying-half sitting position. He was naked, except for a throw blanket covering his hips.

  Leaning up on an elbow she watched him sleep. The shadow of facial hair gave him a dangerous look. But the curve of a smile on his lips and the dark fan of lashes against his angular cheekbones made him appear child-like. Combing her fingers through the neat forest of dark hair on his chest, she trailed it with her eyes all the way down to his manly sculpted "V" where his pelvic bones met.

  Never had a man affected her so. As much as she'd wished for Daniel and her to work out, she knew before they'd even h
ad sex that it would never last. She'd offered herself in a last ditch effort to hold onto a sinking ship. She'd wanted to be loved for the sake of love, and yet, she'd had no idea what love was. She'd given herself to the wrong guy for the right reasons, though the reasons were a bit askew now. She only wished she knew back then.

  Marilyn didn't want to make the same mistake. There was so much mystery and unknown to Draylon. She couldn't deny that. But what she felt with him, around him, demanded her to open her heart and soul, more than physically. She didn't think it had anything to do with needing to understand the mystery…it just was. The situation freed her and frightened her in a good way. Being with Draylon was like her first time white water rafting, that excitement of the unknown waiting around the bend and when it hit, the thrill and exhilaration took your breath away.

  Her fingers drifted over his chest. She didn't want to wake him, she wanted to explore him. Firm muscles, a six-pack she could drink from all day…she smiled, brushing the soft, dark curls. Her smile faded and her brows bunched as she noticed the tail end of a silvery mark across his chest. Separating the furred mat, it trailed across his chest at an angle. It was a huge slash of an old scar, hidden mostly under cover, bisecting his torso nearly in two.

  Tracing it, her memory connected to another scar…a recent one. She struggled to remember where she'd seen it. They'd been similar. The rhythm of the chest movement stopped, and she looked up to see Draylon staring down at her. She felt like a child having climbed the cabinets to get a cookie she wasn't supposed to have.

  "You're awake," she greeted.

  "So are you."

  His voice rumbled with sexy sleepiness. Had she woken him up with her touch?

  "Where did you get your scar?"

  "A battle. A long time ago."

  "I thought you were immortal. Wouldn't the scar have disappeared?"

  "There are some scars that never go away, Marilyn, even for immortals."

  Sitting up, she continued to trace it. "I like it. It makes you more human."

  "I'm not human…"

  "I know. You're a dream, a fantasy. One I don't want to wake up from." She lay back down and snuggled into his side once more. She felt comforted, secure, and safe nestled against him like this.

  Her memory lit on him saying, only when you feel you can trust me.

  "I trust you, Draylon."

  Days of waiting were wearing thin on her. She hadn't seen Draylon since the day he'd lain with her, just sleeping on the bed. It had been more intimate than giving herself to someone. She'd even told him she trusted him. Had that scared him? It wasn't like she'd said she loved him. Most men didn't take to that sentiment in a non-commitment relationship.

  Marilyn wasn't sure what kind of relationship she was in, or if they even had one. He ran hot and cold and right now the silence from him froze. She'd been allowed to go running in her wolf form as long as she stayed out of the deep woods. She spent much of her time near the slopes of the high mountain edges waiting and watching for something but not quite sure what. She'd return in the late hours to a light dinner and a game of chess or backgammon with Donovan.

  With her limits just about tested, she sat with him drinking a cup of herbal tea. "Why won't he see me?"

  "He's been busy with work. Something came up and it's been a pressing issue. He won't leave his office." Donovan shook his head. "I don't think he's slept in days, but then he'll go through times like that when there are major projects due."

  "He does know that I am capable of helping. I do have top secret clearance with Livedel. I was an intern until I moved back there permanently in December. Now, I'm a full-time employee."

  "I'm sure he knows, miss. Sometimes he just prefers to be alone to work."

  "What about getting in touch with my mother? Have you asked him that?"

  "I have." He took a careful sip of his tea.

  "And?" Marilyn waited for his reply.

  "Until Rick gives him the go ahead—"

  "Rick! Rick! That's all I hear. I don't care if he is the head of Livedel, what does he have to do with my life? He can't continue to keep me prisoner here. I have no sense of time or even what day it is. And my mother is probably out of her freakin' mind with worry."

  "I'm sure Draylon will have answers for you soon." He tried to soothe her ruffled feathers.

  "I gave him my trust and this is what I get in return? I want answers, Donovan." She stood up, nearly knocking over their unfinished game of backgammon.

  "Where are you going, Marilyn?"

  "I'm going to get those answers if I have to break down his damn office door." She seethed.

  Hanging up from his conference call with an international colleague, Draylon felt the weight of days of fatigue hitting him. He hadn't slept because gods forbid he'd end up dreaming of making love with Marilyn. Trust. She trusted him. He snorted. If she only knew how difficult that one word, that phrase hit him when all he could think about was taking her six ways to heaven and back.

  He'd had Donovan keep her at bay, but he wondered if she knew the power she had to push past the man and do whatever she damn well pleased. No, she wouldn't do that. She wasn't that kind of woman. She'd wait until it was time. When was that? Hell if he knew, he still waited for Rick to inform him. He could understand her frustration—he felt it on this end. Still, there was only so long someone could wait.

  His thick mahogany door smashed off of its brass hinges and there stood the object of his greatest fear and greatest desire. Had she changed in the past few days? How long had it been since he'd seen her. She was the image of fire. Her small spark had spread into a glorious riot worthy of a forest fire at its best.

  "No more games, Draylon. I want answers…now." Her voice growled with energy and vim. The low tones were deadly soft, contrasting with the wild fire blazing in her golden eyes.

  "I can't give you answers I don't know myself." He glanced at the door dangling from one hinge still screwed into the wall.

  She stalked him, waiting to pounce. "Well you better make some up then. I've had it. I'm not even where I was supposed to be when I started out…"

  "No one ever is," he stated.

  Glaring at him she had his full attention. Their eyes locked and he saw everything, the frustration, the anger, the insecurity of not knowing who or what she was—but he also saw the woman she'd become in the past weeks and days.

  The weak college girl holding on to old ideals was gone. There wasn't any scrawny, freckled faced geek stumbling along to find her way. In her place, a fierce woman made of the very fire he saw in her had emerged. She would be a flame that no one should smother. She may still be looking for answers but by damn, she had the gumption to get them.

  "Damn you are beautiful." He breathed, her face mere inches from his, ready to do battle. "You are standing too fucking close for your own good, Marilyn. You have two seconds to back away or gods help you, I won't be held accountable for my actions."

  Draylon didn't know what possessed him to admit his desire for her. He wasn't one to be so open in his needs, but then no woman left him so physically raw. Her rounded eyes reminded him of a wary doe and then her pupil's dilated from their perfect orb shape to long narrow vertical slits filled with liquid fire.

  A normal man would flee at such an odd occurrence, but he didn't. Her chest heaved with every breath she took, exhaling heat from parted lips that left moisture across his face. The intensity of the moment went on for an eternity. Her mind opened and all he sensed was how damp she was, the tremors of want rippling through her womb, the ache in her breasts.

  One of them growled in a deep, low, seductive whisper that ended in a slithering hiss of need. The other answered in kind. In a flurry of motion, Draylon ended up against the hard edge of his desk with Marilyn's body pressed against him, her leg wrapped around his, holding him captive.

  Deft fingers fumbled with the front buttons on his black dress shirt until she seethed in frustration and
ripped the shirt the rest of the way down his arms. Those damn eyes of hers glanced up at him, sending a message of things to come. He swallowed hard, taking in the torture of her fingernails trailing red marks along his chest, followed by the tip of her tongue soothing the fiery sting in their wake.

  His cock pressed painfully against the front placket of his slacks, growing larger, thicker by the second. As if that wasn't enough the deeper ache of change demanded to be set free. He would let her feel his arousal. Fighting against the tide of change he let his human, baser needs take charge, hopefully counteracting what he didn't want her to see.

  Marilyn lowered her leg along with the rest of her body so she was level with his blood engorged shaft. Draylon held his breath, waiting to see what she had in store for him. He closed his eyes. He could hear the clink of his buckle and the raspy hiss of his belt being stripped from its loops in one smooth motion. Her fingers, sure and steady and in full control, unlatched his slacks, releasing the aching part of him to full view. His eyes opened as the cool air touched the heated skin of his cock.

  His unusual, fully erect length and girth didn't shock or frighten her as she took him in hand, caressing it from hilt to tip, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on his. The imagery and sensation of sharing what he knew to be her thoughts heightened the whole sensual experience. He'd never had a woman be so bold with him. As ancient as he was, Draylon found himself entering his own virgin territory. He smiled down at her as she explored the length of him. The curiosity behind those eyes and sudden uncertainty of what to do…Draylon gasped, nearly choking as the searing warmth of her mouth engulfed him.

  Sweet heavenly gods! Clutching his desk he dug his nails into the under-edge, fighting three urges at once, each one struggling for dominance. He tried spouting ancient Dacian proverbs for control and battle statistics from tribal conflicts. Her hand trailed down his pant leg to tug the material off further, delving in to cup his sac in her other hand.