Enchanted By Fire (Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society Book 3)

by Meg Ripley

  The butler who had escorted her to the office was waiting outside the door, and he walked with her back down the hall. She could have sworn she felt Grant’s eyes on her the entire way, the heat from his gaze making her skin tingle with anticipation.

  She chastised herself silently as she descended the front steps to the cab waiting at the top of the drive. What interest could Grant Xavier possibly have in her? She was merely an assistant curator, living from paycheck to paycheck, and while she knew she was pretty, she also knew that a man like him could have any woman he wanted. Why would he settle for one who couldn’t afford to dine at anywhere more extravagant than the local burger joint?

  She’d pushed Grant Xavier to the back of her mind by the time she returned to the museum, and then did her damnedest not to smile smugly at Anita.

  “Did you enjoy your meeting with the short-tempered Mr. Xavier?” her boss asked.

  She’d expected the encounter to be an entirely unpleasant one, but that was strange since Grant had seemed more than amiable.

  “The meeting went fine. He seemed pleased with the purchase and with the speed in which it arrived.”

  “Well good, then,” Anita replied flatly.

  Freya hurried off before the snooty woman could fill her schedule with any other ridiculous tasks. She strolled through the museum to the prehistoric mammals exhibit that was just days away from its debut appearance. The last of the fossil sets had arrived just two days ago—the ten-foot long marsupial, diprotodon, and a forty-thousand-year-old smilodon, otherwise known as a saber-toothed tiger. The entire staff had been working overtime to make sure everything was perfect, and she delved in to do her part. By noon, it was beginning to look like they might just have it finished in time.

  The rest of her co-workers had gone to lunch, but she lingered there, walking amid the creatures on display. A replica of a woolly mammoth stood in the center of the exhibit and she stopped next to it, gazing up at the large, open eyes, almost hidden in its long fur. She reached out to touch it, stroking the thick, coarse coat. The sensation beneath her fingertips seemed strangely familiar, but of course she could call no memory of it to mind.

  “Freya,” her boss spoke from not far behind her, and she dropped her hand to her side as if she’d been caught with it in the cookie jar, but when she turned to answer Anita, her cheeks grew warm instantly.

  Damn it, she cursed silently.

  Anita smiled tightly, though her eyes were disapproving. “Mr. Xavier here was hoping to discuss the Ottoman statue he purchased…with you.”

  She would surely hear about this later. Anita wouldn’t be thrilled that the handsome, rich patron was requesting to speak with her lowly assistant over her—even if the credentials in Freya’s apartment easily qualified her for her boss’ job. Since she couldn’t exactly tell Mr. Xavier to take a hike—something no part of her body wanted to do anyway, admittedly—Freya forced a smile on her face and did her damnedest to ignore the way his eyes grazed over her, or the way they seemed to smolder like blue flames the longer he looked.

  “Yes, of course,” she said despite her reluctance, though it stemmed more now from not wanting to be alone with him than any worry over the repercussions from Anita. Grant Xavier was just too good looking, too potent. No man should look so good that it drives a woman to distraction.

  Anita nodded, turned and strode out of the room, her nose even higher in the air than usual, and she was suddenly alone with him. She glanced up at the clock, calculating the number of minutes before the other members of the museum staff would waltz back into the room from their lunch break.

  “I seem to have caused you some trouble,” he said when her boss was out of earshot, though the look on his face was anything but apologetic.

  “Perhaps, but if you hadn’t caused it, she would have come up with something on her own,” she joked as he came closer. Too close. Several feet still separated them, but suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room.

  She began to chastise herself silently when she realized she was responding to him like some infatuated school girl. She might not know exactly how old she was, but a teenager, she was not. What was next? Was she going to swoon if he kissed her? It was time to get a grip.

  “There was something you wanted to discuss, Mr. Xavier? Did you have a question about the Ottoman statue?”

  “Actually, I lied.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple, really. I wanted to ask you to dinner but didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I conveyed that message through your boss.”

  “Oh… Well, that was very thoughtful of you.” She imagined she never would have gotten that particular message from Anita. Still, the handsome, rich benefactor wanted to have dinner with her? Why?

  “Thoughtful, no. I assure you, it was entirely self-serving,” he replied with a wry smile—a smile that did all kinds of strange things to her core.

  “And how is that?”

  “Because I imagine it will be a whole lot more difficult to brush me off when I’m standing right in front of you,” he said in a husky tone.

  She didn’t have time in her life right now for romantic entanglements—certainly not with a man who was probably used to getting any woman he wanted.

  Then again, that kind of man was more likely to get what he wanted and then move on. A night or two of unadulterated pleasure—and yes, she knew just by looking at him he’d be an expert in that—and then they’d both go their separate ways, him back to his rich, carefree life, and her, back to trying to find some trace of who she was.

  It was the perfect escape—like a weekend getaway, then back to work as usual when it was over.

  “And what if I had no intention of brushing you off, Grant?” she asked, surprising herself with the seductive tone of her voice.

  “I’d say that makes you a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.”

  She smiled, liking the sound of that. “Alright then, what did you have in mind?”

  “Dinner at Estiatorio Milos. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

  “Better yet, I’ll meet you there.” She didn’t know why she didn’t want him in her apartment. Perhaps because it was the closest thing she had to a refuge; a private place to try to sort through what clues she had to her past.

  She expected him to agree, to say…something, but instead, he swooped in so fast she barely saw it coming. He pulled her against him at the same time his lips came down on hers, and if she hadn’t been determined to stay on her feet, she would have swooned. He was so warm, his skin felt hot against hers, just like his hand had been when she’d clasped it in her own earlier. This time, she imagined him fresh from a hot shower, with his skin radiating out the heat it had absorbed.

  She’d had no idea there could be such thing as an expert in kissing, but this man was. His full lips were firm against hers, but not vicious, and the way his tongue plied against the seam of her lips sent tiny shivers of arousal through her whole body. She parted for him, almost without conscious effort, and then wished she hadn’t when his tongue stopped its path along her lips. But he delved in a second later, his tongue gliding along hers, making her moan quietly at the invasion.

  And then, all of a sudden, he released her. His lips left hers, his hands fell to his sides, and he took a step back, taking the heat of his body with him. She resisted the urge to pull him back. The muscles in his jaw twitched, and it gave her a moment’s satisfaction to see the separation had affected him, too.

  “I’ll see you at seven, Freya,” he spoke huskily and strode out of the room before she could find her voice.

  Chapter 4

  He’d asked her to dinner? What the hell had he been thinking? But since he’d already accepted he was out of his mind when he’d left his house and started driving toward the museum, it shouldn’t surprise him that he’d done something so foolish.

  The moment he’d stepped through the curtains that sectioned off the exhibit
and saw her standing there, he’d been mesmerized. Her long, dark hair was cascading in loose waves down her back; her head was tilted up toward the mammoth’s, as if she were engaged in an unspoken conversation with it—an intimate one given the way she was stroking the beast’s thick fur.

  It should have struck him as odd, but it hadn’t. It somehow seemed she was right at home, the same as it had when she was standing in his office and when he’d seen her asleep in her queen-sized bed.

  It would seem that Freya Cullen appeared right at home no matter the scene, and never had he felt it more than when he’d given in to the irresistible need to touch her.

  To pull her close and feel her soft body against his.

  To kiss the lips that he’d imagined engaged in a dozen naughty tasks since he first saw her.

  On the drive over, he’d convinced himself he only intended to see her, that all he wanted was another glimpse of the woman who he’d seen in Sonya’s hotel room and then had miraculously appeared in his home the very next day. But one look at her, and he knew he’d been fooling himself. Right or wrong, he wanted her for more than just the medallion that was likely in her possession. And since he couldn’t strip her naked right there in the museum—even if he did have a feeling she would have been on board with his intentions—he’d had to contrive another way to get her alone.

  So, dinner it would be. Then he’d drive her home, sink himself deep inside her gorgeous body, and find the medallion once she was fast asleep in blissful slumber. By morning, Freya Cullen would be nothing more than a sweet memory, and the medallion would be back where it belonged.

  But the moment she appeared in front of the restaurant six hours later, he began to question whether one time would be enough.

  She was sex and beauty personified in a knee-length black dress that would have looked conservative if it wasn’t for the slit up one thigh toward her hip and the back that was open all the way down to her waist. Her hair was pinned up, gathered around the crown of her head, and it made him itch to find the pins that would release the suave up-do and send the silky waves tumbling down her bare back.

  She’d left the cab and started toward the front entrance where he stood conversing with the restaurant’s proprietor, but suddenly, he was forced to direct all his attention inward, focusing on keeping the fire in his core reined in while it threatened to blaze outward. She’d had the same effect on him earlier, both in his home and at the museum, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose control quickly—something that had never happened to him before.

  She came to a stop in front of them, and it didn’t surprise him to see the man next to him looking her up and down like she was the most delectable dessert on the menu. What did surprise him was the surge of violence that rushed through him, and the considerable amount of effort it took to keep from pummeling the man into the next zip code.

  Jealousy? That wasn’t a characteristic of his over a woman he’d known for great lengths of time, never mind one he’d only met a few short hours ago—and who very well might turn out to be a ruthless enemy.

  He shot the man a quelling look, and was mildly appeased when he nodded to Freya and made a quick escape inside.

  “Hello, Freya,” he forced the words past lips that would rather explore her body than speak.

  “An enemy of yours?” she asked teasingly and nodded in the direction of the man who’d just left.

  “No. The restaurant’s proprietor, actually,” he said, and that was all he intended to say on the subject.

  “Yikes. I’d say that had to be one nasty argument over the lobster salad. What did he do? Poison it?”

  “I’m certain he did no such thing,” he bantered back, enjoying her company already despite the desire that bordered on painful.

  She moved toward the door then, and he took advantage of the opportunity to touch her, to place his hand against her bare lower back and turn her away from the door. She looked up at him perplexed.

  “The private entrance is around the side,” he said, and though she smiled back, he could see the worried look in her eyes as her thoughts turned inward. She was worrying over the bill, and he held back a chuckle. He had more money than he could spend in a dozen millennia; there was no way he was going to let her pay for dinner.

  He escorted her around to the side entrance where a private dining room awaited them, but not five minutes into the first course, he knew it had been a mistake. At least in the crowded dining area there would have been distractions, things other than the woman across from him to focus his attention on, but not here.

  Here, she filled up all his senses. He watched her as she talked, fascinated by the perfect shape of her cupid bow lips, and he couldn’t avoid noticing the way her pupils had dilated and the pulse in the delicate column of her neck had sped up. He breathed her in; the food’s aroma paled in comparison.

  The scent of her arousal was driving him fucking wild. Presented with proof that she wanted him, too, there was no way he was going to make it through dinner. He wanted to see her naked on the table. He wanted to taste every inch of her body. And he wanted to drive every hard inch of his cock deep inside her and hear her scream out in ecstasy.

  He was in the midst of contemplating how she’d react if he swiped the table clear and lifted her up on top of it when her phone rang from inside her purse. She apologized and rummaged through the bag in search of the ringing intrusion.

  Seconds later, he knew the night was about to come to an abrupt end. Though she held the phone close to her ear, he could hear the conversation perfectly clear. There had been a break-in at her apartment, the woman on the other end of the line explained. The police had been called and were there now, and damn it, that meant there was a good chance the thieves had absconded with Sonya’s medallion.

  But were they thieves at all, or had the creatures who had killed Sonya followed her medallion to Freya’s apartment?

  “Cat! Is Cat alright?” she asked in a loud whisper as she pushed back from the table and sprang to her feet. The woman reassured her that her feline friend was just fine, but it did little to stem the urgency in her movements.

  “I’ll drive you home, Freya,” he offered as soon as she’d hung up the phone.

  “That’s really not necessary. I’ll call a cab,” she said, typing the digits into her phone, and he got the impression she wasn’t trying to be polite. She genuinely didn’t want him to accompany her and he wondered why. Had he misread her attraction to him? No. The proof still radiated from every pore of her body. It was something else then, though he recognized he was far too wrapped up in her to consider it logically at the moment.

  She let him guide her out the private door they’d come in not long before, and then she took him by surprise, leaning up on her toes and pressing her soft lips against his.

  He nearly lost it, the taste of her lips making him hungry for more; the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest. And when she fitted herself closer against him and her abdomen pressed against his throbbing cock, he resisted the overwhelming urge to push her up against the wall and fuck her senseless.

  He clenched his fists at his sides, digging into his palms so deep, he drew blood. But when the tip of her tongue slid along the seam of his lips, he knew he was in trouble.

  The fire in his core blazed hotter than it ever had before. He needed to take her. Now.

  He needed to find some way to cool the blaze, and it was the only thing he could think of. But at the same time, if he buried himself in her and couldn’t control the fire’s spread, what kind of danger was he putting her in?

  “Miss? Did you call for a cab?” a man spoke from the car that had pulled up behind them.

  She pulled away and darted for the cab without a word, as if she knew if she stayed there a second longer, she’d be in danger.

  He stood there long after the cab had pulled away, trying to get himself under control. He knew two things for certain at that moment: he wanted Freya Cullen more than h
e’d ever wanted a woman, and she was absolutely, without a doubt, a bad idea. There was just something about her that wasn’t like any human he’d ever known, something that appealed to him on too many levels, and for the first time in his existence, he had no idea how to control it.

  It wasn’t until several minutes had passed that he trusted himself to move and not pursue her, and as he strode toward his car, he realized that an evening cut short wasn’t the only problem that had arisen from the break-in at her apartment. How was he going to track down the medallion? And how the hell had that thought evaded him until now? The answer to the last question came easily.

  Freya.

  Yes, she was most definitely a bad idea.

  Chapter 5

  A police officer was waiting for her when Freya started down the hall to her apartment. Her superintendent, Mrs. Abernathy, was there, too, with a sympathetic expression on her kind face and Cat in her frail arms.

  “I’m so sorry, dear,” she said. “I don’t know how they got in the building. I didn’t hear a thing, though I suppose that isn’t surprising, is it? I don’t hear too well these days. But Mrs. Holden—in the apartment below you—she called to tell me there was an awful ruckus going on above her.”

  The kind, old woman continued to enlighten her of all that transpired over the past half hour. If it were any other tenant that had called her, she would have looked into it herself, but Mrs. Holden wasn’t prone to complaining. Not once, in fact, in the whole twelve years she’d been there, so Mrs. Abernathy called the police right away.

  Eventually, the officer cleared his throat and interrupted, and she couldn’t blame the man—Mrs. Abernathy had been known to talk incessantly on more than one occasion. She hurried through his questions, anxious to assess the damage inside. The officer filled her in on what information they had—that it appeared the assailant had come in through an unlocked balcony window, and hers was the only apartment in the building that had been damaged.