by Tessa Adams
But not if she left him standing there, with his brain empty and his dick hard. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he headed for the clump of trees at a dead run. She probably didn’t have much of a head start. He could catch up to her and—
He froze as she stepped back into the clearing. Though he was glad to see her, he was a little disappointed to find that she was now dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt that was a little too big for her. Somehow she looked even more vulnerable like this than she had naked.
His conscience smarted at the realization, but he shoved down the misplaced guilt. She might not have been one of the dragons that attacked his clan, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t known about it or had something to do with it. Besides, even if she hadn’t, she was part of the clan that had done their best to wipe the Dragonstars from existence. He couldn’t afford to feel anything for her—and he sure as hell had nothing to feel guilty about.
After all, he’d come here for exactly this purpose—to infiltrate the Wyvernmoons and find a way to bring down the clan once and for all. Dylan had told him to content himself with finding a way to destroy the virus, but that wasn’t what he was after. No way were his friends going to spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next nightmare the Wyvernmoons could dream up. He was going to finish the bastards completely or die trying.
Forcing a smile that he was far from feeling, Logan told her, “You look different with your clothes on.”
She blushed. “Yes, well, I don’t think naked is my best look.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Not that the jeans don’t look good or anything. It’s just, you’re one of the few women I’ve met who doesn’t need adornment.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he wondered if he was laying it on a bit thick. Not that he was lying to her—she looked damn good naked. But telling her that might be too much too soon. Maybe he needed to pull it back a little. He was pushing awfully hard.
When she finally answered him, though, it wasn’t to call him on his cheesy lines. Instead, she simply said, “I think you’re the first man to see me naked before we’ve even exchanged names.” She held out an elegant hand. “I’m Cecily Fournier.”
The name sent him reeling, so much so that it was a few seconds before he could get himself together enough to take her proffered hand. “I’m Logan Kelly.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Logan.”
Could it really be this easy? he wondered frantically. Could he really have just fallen into a meeting with the Wyvernmoon princess? Shaking his head to clear it, he murmured, “You, as well, Cecily.”
Then, watching her closely, he added, “Or should I say, Your Highness? I have to admit, I’m a little rusty on protocol when dealing with royalty.”
Her face fell and he felt guilty all over again, but this time he didn’t have any idea why. “It doesn’t matter.” She took a few steps back. “I suppose I should be going now.”
“Already?” he asked, determined not to let her get away so easily. “I thought we could spend a few minutes getting to know each other.”
“Is it me you want to get to know, or the princess of the Wyvernmoon clan?”
Shit. Talk about a loaded question. He spent a minute observing her, noting the way she held her breath as she waited for his answer. The way her pupils contracted and her fists clenched. Then told her the truth—or as much of the truth as he could risk admitting.
“Would it be a completely bad move for me to admit to a little of both?”
Cecily weighed Logan’s answer, looking for any hint of guile or dishonesty. She didn’t find any, but, then, maybe she wasn’t looking hard enough. When she was standing this close to him, it was difficult to concentrate on anything but his broad, tanned chest and the rich, sexy smell of him. Inhaling slowly, she took his scent deep inside herself.
He smelled like the ocean her mother had taken her to when she was a little girl, like the wild, salty sea just where it tumbled over the sand.
Like the peppermint candies she went through by the dozen.
Like freedom—or the closest thing to it she’d ever experienced.
For that reason alone, she wasn’t going to push him away, at least not just because he admitted to being curious about her royal status. After all, she had yet to meet a dragon who wasn’t.
Still, she had to ask one more time. “Is that the truth?” She lifted her chin so that she was looking him point-blank in the eye.
“It is, aye.”
“Okay, then. Since the truth is rarely a bad move, I’ll go along with you on this one.”
His grin flashed, wide and brilliant, and her heart started to beat just a little bit faster. “Excellent. So, where should we go?”
“What?” She replayed his words in her mind, trying to figure out the strange segue in their conversation. Nothing came to her, so she added, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“You said you were willing to go along with me. I was wondering where you wanted to go.”
“Oh, I just meant—”
“I know what you meant, Cecily.” He reached out and gently tugged one long strand of her hair. “I was just teasing you.”
“Right. Of course.” She felt her cheeks warm, but was wont to do anything to stop it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had teased her. It had been years, certainly—maybe decades. Gage had played around with her when he’d been teaching her how to fly, but that had been eons ago. Besides, his comments had never made her feel like this.
A little scared, a little excited and completely shaky inside.
“Come on,” he said, slowly dropping her hair. “Take a walk with me.”
She knew she should refuse—the Crown Princess of the Wyvernmoon clan didn’t take walks with strange men, let alone give them permission to touch her. But up here, at the top of the Black Hills, so high that she could see clouds when she looked down, she didn’t feel like a princess. She felt like plain old Cecily. It was such a novel feeling that it took her a little while to understand it.
But once she did, she liked it, almost as much as she liked the way his hand rested lightly on her back as he guided her around a curve that could loosely be called a trail.
“Where are we going?” she asked, shocked at the sudden breathlessness of her voice. Because she hiked these mountains regularly, she knew it had nothing to do with her athletic prowess and everything to do with the man standing next to her.
“I spent the morning exploring. There’s a lake a mile or so down this path.”
She knew the exact spot he was talking about. Small but crystal clear, the lake seemed to pop up out of nowhere, like so many of the water sources in and around the Black Hills. It was also fed by an amazing waterfall—one that she had showered under more times than she could count.
She snuck a glance at Logan, wondering if he had put the waterfall to good use earlier in the day. Just the idea of it made her entire body tingle in a way she’d never experienced before. Her nipples hardened beneath the thin fabric of her T-shirt, and she pulled away from him a little bit so she could casually cross her arms over her chest.
She’d thought she’d been subtle, but the wicked gleam in Logan’s eyes told her he knew exactly what was going on.
Her cheeks warmed again and she nearly groaned. In the real world, in her world, she could go days and weeks without blushing. But up here, with Logan, it seemed like every three seconds something new was setting her off.
So much for being the strong, powerful leader her clan needed. She could barely talk to one unfamiliar man without hyperventilating. He was a hell of a man, no doubt about it, but still. It was completely humiliating.
Putting her embarrassment aside, she turned to him with a frown as common sense belatedly kicked in. She was far from defenseless, but still, she couldn’t just go wandering into the woods with a dragon she barely knew. Not without asking him the question that had been bugging her
since she had first laid eyes on him. “What are you doing here, Logan?”
“Talking to a beautiful woman whom I find very intriguing,” he answered. “I guess I must not be doing it right if you haven’t figured that much out yet.”
She wasn’t going to fall for smooth lines and the wicked flash of his grin. At least not yet. “You know what I mean. You’re not part of the Wyvernmoon clan.”
It wasn’t a question, but he answered, anyway. “No, I’m not.”
“So why are you here? It’s not like South Dakota is that high up on the list of places for a dragon shifter to visit. It’s pretty boring out here if you aren’t aiming to do the tourist stuff. Which, I assume, you aren’t.”
“You assume right. But that doesn’t mean I’m bored.” His smile was friendly and almost harmless. “I’m finding a lot out here to keep both me and my beast occupied.”
“Logan ...”
“All right, all right.” He backed off a little, but strangely his retreat didn’t make it any easier for her to breathe. Not when it gave her such a good view of his tantalizing tattoos. “I’m just passing through on my way up to Canada. I have some friends up there I want to visit.”
“Canada?” she asked, surprised. “There’s only one clan up there. The—”
“Nightfires. I know.”
“And you actually have friends in that clan?” She didn’t mean to look skeptical, but the dragons in question were notoriously close ranked—and so suspicious they made Julian look like the most inclusive guy on the planet.
He didn’t take offense at her skepticism. Instead, he just shrugged. “I have friends everywhere.”
“Really? What clan are you from?”
“I’m from the Flamedancers. They’re in Ireland.”
“Oh, right.” She relaxed a little at the name of the familiar clan. “That’s where the accent comes from.”
“What accent?” He looked startled.
“You’ve slipped into an accent twice since we’ve been talking. It’s subtle, so I had a hard time placing it, but of course it’s Gaelic.”
“You must be mistaken. I haven’t had an accent in more than two hundred years.”
She was a little surprised at his obvious discomfort. “It’s no big deal. I kind of like it. The words roll off your tongue so beautifully.”
“That’s not the point—” He cut himself off, but it was obvious that her casual words had upset him, though she didn’t know why.
Seeking a way to learn more about this dragon who intrigued her on every level, she rested her hand on his forearm, waiting for him to look at her. “Why does the idea bother you so much? There’s nothing wrong with people being able to identify you by clan.”
“They’re not my clan!”
“I thought you just said—”
“I said I was from Ireland, and I am. But I haven’t been back in nearly three hundred years and don’t plan on returning anytime soon.”
“Oh. But if you’re no longer a member of the Flamedancers, then you must be . . . I mean, are you a . . .” She hesitated, not wanting to use the insulting term.
He didn’t seem to be having the same problem, as he said roughly, “Yeah. I’m rogue.”
Now she knew that she should run, that she should get away from him any way she could. There was a reason calling someone a rogue was an insult in the dragon community. Despite popular fairy-tale representations, dragons were a social species by nature, and very few ever chose to leave the protection of their clans. It was dangerous, even in the twenty-first century, to be without family at your back. Which meant that most rogue dragons were either extremely antisocial or had been banished from their clan for committing a terrible offense.
And since Logan didn’t seem the least bit antisocial . . .
“You don’t have to look like that, you know. I haven’t kicked a puppy in at least a decade.”
Mortified that her thoughts were so plainly discerned, Cecily suddenly didn’t know where to look. It didn’t seem right to look him in the eye when she was thinking so badly of him, but at the same time it seemed ridiculous to pretend an interest in the landscape that she was far from feeling.
In the end, she settled for staring at her fingernails. At least they distracted her for a second as she wondered absently how long it had been since she’d been to the salon. Too long, judging from the jagged edges of her nails and the peeling polish.
“You can look at me, you know. I didn’t say that to embarrass you.”
Her eyes shot to his before she could think better of it. “Yes, you did.”
“So you can give as good as you get. I wondered.” He inclined his head. “You’re right. I was hoping to embarrass you.”
She waited, but he didn’t say anything more. “And?” She finally asked.
“And what?”
“Aren’t you going to apologize?”
“Why should I when I’m not sorry?”
Her cheeks flamed yet again, but this time it was more indignation than discomfiture that made her blush. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe he was antisocial after all.
She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut—until he moved a little closer and ran a finger down her cheek. “I like the way you look when you blush.”
Of course, his words only made it worse. “Yeah, right. Nothing like looking like a tomato to really impress a guy.”
“Do you want to impress me?” he asked.
“It was just an expression,” she stuttered.
“Was it?” His voice had dropped, deepened, and his eyes seemed to glow as the shadows lengthened around them.
“Yes!” Cecily glanced around. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon. She needed to leave, to head back to the compound, but she was finding it difficult to move when he looked at her so intently. In all her life, she’d never had a man look at her quite like that before.
Oh, a number of her father’s factionnaires and business allies had studied her intently for years, but their looks were usually loaded with avarice. They saw her as a means to an end, a way to gain power in the clan—especially now that her father and Jacob were out of the picture. They wanted her, but only because of what she could bring them.
The look in Logan’s eyes, the way he angled his body toward her, the way his heat wrapped around her, told her more clearly than any words could that he wanted something else entirely from her. Maybe it was stupid to believe that—he was rogue, after all—but she found that she didn’t care.
So what if she was being stupid up here on the top of this mountain?
So what if she wanted to believe that this one dragon wanted her, Cecily, not just the Crown Princess of the Wyvernmoon clan?
So what if for once she wanted to act like a woman and not a puppet in her father’s quest to keep his Conseil in line?
No one would know if she didn’t tell them. And for this moment, right now, she wanted to say to hell with her innate caution. To hell with her innocence. To hell with everything but the heat coursing through her body under his steady perusal.
“Logan.” She took a step toward him, told herself to reach out to him, but she wasn’t that brave. Not yet. She wouldn’t run away if he wanted to kiss her, but she couldn’t bring herself to initiate it.
She didn’t know how.
“Cecily.” This time when he smiled, it didn’t hold a trace of mockery. Instead, it was warm and enticing and just a little bit feral. For the first time since she’d met him, she could see the beast that lurked deep inside him—intelligent, cunning, determined.
The knowledge made her chest tighten, made the act of drawing air into her lungs almost impossible. Deep inside, her own dragon stirred. Stretched. Even preened a little under the regard.
He must have seen the beast, because his eyes darkened and his breathing grew shallower. Harsher. Then he lifted a finger to her mouth, toyed with her lower lip.
She gasped and he took instant advantage, stroking his finger
from her lip to the inside of her mouth. He traced the sharp edge of her teeth with his fingertip before brushing against the very tip of her tongue.
Instinctively, she bit down, nipping at the warm, resilient flesh.
He groaned and she started to apologize, more than a little shocked that she’d bitten him. But the look on his face told her he’d liked it, that she had nothing to apologize for. So she did it again, then laved her tongue against the small wound to soothe away the sting.
“Cecily.” This time when he said her name, his voice was low and gravelly and so tempting that she found herself leaning toward him without conscious thought.
She didn’t have far to go. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until her breasts skimmed against his bare stomach. He was hot, burning up, the fire that raged within him stoked to the highest degree.
Her nipples hardened at the feel of him—at the all-encompassing warmth of him—and she arched her back without conscious thought. She wanted to feel more of him against her, ached for it in a way she hadn’t known was possible before she met him.
That movement—and the permission implicit in it—must have been what Logan was waiting for. For the second she pressed herself against him, he slid his hand up her cheek to tangle in her hair.
He tugged gently—not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to let her know he considered himself in charge—and tilted her head up, up, up, so that their gazes met and locked. Then he moved his other hand to the small of her back, guiding her even closer, until their bodies were plastered together.
He lowered his head so slowly that she nearly screamed with the agony of waiting. Her body jerked against his as every nerve ending she had cried out for more. More contact. More pleasure. More everything.
And then he was there, so close that she could feel his warm, peppermint-scented breath against her cheek. She closed her eyes. Parted her lips. Waited for him to kiss her. And waited. And waited.
But he didn’t do it, didn’t move that last crucial inch, and her eyes flew open. “What’s wrong?” she breathed, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders. “Why won’t you kiss me?”
