by Lia Davis
Her eyebrows piqued. “Well?”
“It’s very good,” he said.
She gave him one of those beaming smiles, warming him as if he’d drunk her down like wine. “I know,” she said, shrugging. “I have a secret ingredient.”
“What is the secret?”
“That’s for me to know,” she said. “Maybe if you stick around, you’ll figure it out.” She smiled, then turned on her heel to approach a customer at the other end of the bar. Her long hair swung behind her, punctuating each step as she moved. When she reached the other end, she leaned forward on the bar, giving him a view of her rear that immediately seared the image into his memory.
With her fiery spirit, she reminded him very much of the women from home. He took another sip from the drink, then turned to watch her talk to her newly arrived customer. The sweetness of his drink turned to bitter ash on his tongue.
Fidhur, the ice dragon who’d beaten him so badly the other night, stood at the end of the bar. He clasped Violet’s hand in his, and to Pahlin’s surprise and disgust, she was laughing and smiling at him. He tipped his head in a gesture to follow him. Violet walked around the bar to join him. As she cleared the wooden bar, she paused and looked up at him. He grasped each side of her face, lowering himself to eye level. Violet’s eyes widened, and Fidhur leaned in to kiss her full lips.
Pahlin’s belly gave a sickening twist as he watched her lean into him, her hands roaming across his chest. Why? Was she in some sort of relationship with him? Humiliation sank into him, his cheeks burning as he watched.
“Violet?” Pahlin was jarred from his staring by an unfamiliar voice. A pretty blonde girl approached him, absently drying a glass. Her brows furrowed together as Violet and Fidhur walked out the front door. “What the hell is she doing?”
“I guess they must know each other,” Pahlin said, the words painful. It was bad enough that Fidhur had beaten him in the arena. Now he had also won the affections of the pretty bartender and had snatched her right out from under Pahlin’s nose. Of course.
“No way,” the blonde girl said. Her eyes narrowed. “He was in here the other night and made a scene. I don’t trust him.”
Anger gripped Pahlin’s chest. “What do you mean?”
“His friend grabbed me, and then Violet told them to stop. That guy with the tattoos grabbed her and tried to kiss her, so she kicked him out of the bar. Shit,” the girl said. “I gotta call someone. This is bad.”
“You’re calling someone?” Pahlin said. He left the drink on its coaster and stood. “I will go check on her.” He didn’t know much about Fidhur, other than his encounter at the Pinnacle, but suddenly, the way he’d looked into Violet’s eyes made him suspicious. While most Kadirai were honorable enough not to abuse their power, he wasn’t so sure about Fidhur.
“Really? That would be great,” the girl said. “Just be careful. There’s something weird about that guy.”
Pahlin glanced over his shoulder. Ariv was leaning on a tall table surrounded by women, all of whom looked enrapt with whatever story he was telling them. Pahlin could handle this on his own.
Though it was night, it was still warm and humid outside. The music from inside the bar was muffled. Just over the quiet rumble of road noise, breathy whispers and clipped moans found his ears, raising his hackles. The mental image of what Fidhur was doing to her—or worse, what she was doing to him—was enough to make his blood turn to ice.
Pahlin followed the sound along the front of the brick building. Two people were smoking cigarettes, apparently not caring about what was going on a few feet away.
Around the corner, he found Fidhur pressing Violet to the wall with his hips, his lips sucking at her neck as his hands explored under her shirt. And judging by the way her eyes were closed as her hands were fumbling at his belt, she was enjoying it. The sight of his hands, outlined by the snug fabric of her shirt, enraged Pahlin.
He froze. He was quiet, but Fidhur broke away and glared at him. “I know you,” he said. As he spoke, his hand was still under Violet’s shirt. “What do you want?”
“Paul?” Violet said. Her hair was disheveled, her face creased in confusion as she tried to piece together why he was there.
“Leave her alone,” Pahlin said in Kadirai. “I know you compelled her.” What if he hadn’t? What if she really did want this?
Fidhur’s eyes narrowed slightly. Was it guilt? “You can have her when I’m done.”
Rage rushed through Pahlin as he spoke in English for Violet’s benefit. “I won’t ask again. Let go of her.”
Chapter 6
“I won’t ask again. Let go of her,” Paul said, his accented voice breaking through her rampaging lust.
A whirlwind of lust and terror swept through Violet as the tattooed man broke away from her. Even as he pulled his hands away, balling them into fists as he faced Paul, she felt the phantom hint of his touch on her skin. She was in a confusing daze, like when she’d had way too much drink but hadn’t realized it until going into the bathroom and staring at her own confusing reflection. All of a sudden, the exhilaration shattered and left a sudden awareness and vague shame she didn’t care for.
Just minutes earlier, she saw the guy with the tattoos come in. She was going to cut him off and tell him to get the hell out. And then he reached for her hand and her whole body ignited with flame like she’d downed a gallon of strong, sweet liquor that hit her all at once. In the blink of an eye, she wanted nothing more than to touch every inch of him she could see, then rip off his clothes to explore the rest. She’d accompanied him outside with every intention of unzipping his pants, dropping to her knees, and showing him a little Southern hospitality right there against the side of her bar.
Despite the lust burning in her, something in her shrieked in horror at the strange icy heat of his touch, teasing her until she leaned into his rough hands. She didn’t want this, did she? The reality was that she wanted to run away and scrub him off. But she couldn’t operate her limbs, couldn’t even close her mouth to avoid his kiss. It was like the lust in her was in control, and her logical mind was a distant whisper that she heard but had no intention or ability to acknowledge.
“What are you going to do about it?” the tattooed man said. He broke away from Violet, pushing her behind him. Even as she wondered why the hell she was doing it, her hands roamed across his back and around to his muscular chest. As they slipped downward over the hard lines of his torso, he plucked them off and pushed her away from him. Like a moth to the flame, she was drawn to him even as she felt thoroughly disgusted.
Paul’s fists clenched, shifting the veins across his muscular forearms. When he spoke again, it was in a language she didn’t recognize, maybe the same one he’d spoken to Eric. The tattooed man clenched his fists and lunged at Paul. Without hesitation, Paul swung on him, then drove his knee hard into the other man’s groin. The tattooed man groaned, swinging a wild punch as he went down to his knees. Paul skirted around him, approaching Violet. As soon as he stepped into the light, she realized how delicious he looked. Her relief turned to lust as he came closer.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am now,” she said. As if her limbs were out of her control, she reached out, getting a handful of his chiseled arms before running her hands over his stomach. His stupid shirt was in the way. As before, her logical mind was screaming what are you doing? But Paul wasn’t a disgusting asshole like the other guy, so it wasn’t so bad, right?
“Um, what are you doing?” Paul asked. Planting her hands on his broad shoulders, she pushed him backward until his back hit the wall, then pressed herself close to him, sneaking her hands under his t-shirt to explore the muscles there. His hips moved against her, and she felt the subtle bulge that told her he didn’t mind what she was doing. “Violet, stop.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed the side of his neck and grinded her hips slowly against his groin. Her mind was filled with the image of their bodies writhing together
, all skin and sweat and fire. “Why?”
“Because this is not you,” he said. His hips twitched again, and she grinned. “I know it does not make sense, but this man did something to you.”
“You don’t like me?” she asked, still moving slowly against him. “You could put me right up against this wall if you wanted.”
He let out a shuddering breath and gripped her shoulders, pushing her away. “You are very beautiful, but I would not. Not like this.”
Her hand slipped down, cupping his groin and squeezing lightly through his now too-tight jeans. “I think you’re lying,” she said, massaging gently. His eyelashes fluttered as he took a deep breath.
He frowned and crouched slightly, putting himself on eye level. He gripped each side of her face, and she took the opportunity to lean in and kiss him, letting her tongue slip into the inviting heat of his mouth. He pulled away in surprise, but not before letting his tongue dance against hers for a tantalizing second. Then, he tore away, gripping her face tightly and holding it away from his. “Look at me,” he said, his arms tense as he held her at arm’s length.
“I am,” she said. “I like what I see.”
“I’m glad, but listen. Whatever he told you, I want you to forget it,” he said. A warm, rubbery sensation washed over her. For a split second, reason broke through the reel of graphic images in her mind.
For God’s sake, she didn’t even know his last name, and she was about to let him bang her against the wall. Something was very wrong with her, but she couldn’t help herself. As soon as she touched him, it was like a puppeteer with a dirty mind was in control of her body.
“You could occupy my mind with something else,” she said.
He sighed. “All right,” he said. “Come with me.”
He released her face and offered her his hand. She grabbed it, petting the smooth skin. The guy with the tattoos was freakishly cold, but Paul was blazing warm. Just touching him sent an electric current through her fingers and up her arm. He led her further behind the building, into the darkened back lot. “You want to do it out here?”
“Why not?” he said. “Don’t you want to?”
“It could be fun,” she said. As she followed him, her mind swirled again. What are you doing?!
“Wait right here,” Paul said. Then he pulled off his shirt and handed it to her, revealing a muscular, tanned chest. Her moment of clarity only lasted as long as Paul’s clothes. The sight of his bare skin stoked the fire in her again. Welts and handprints marked his tan skin, but somehow it only made him sexier. If he was into that, she’d leave a few of her own. A second later, he unbuckled his pants and shucked them off, handing them to her as well.
“Damn,” she murmured. He definitely had it going on. The smooth lines of his chest connected in a beautiful symmetry to his thick leg muscles, and like the cherry on top of a sundae, he had a glorious set of equipment that was ready for her. She fumbled at the button of her jeans as she stepped toward him.
Then he crouched on all fours.
Huh?
Light exploded out of him, a swirling display of pale green. It lit the night like the shimmering glow of a fireworks display.
“What the hell…” she murmured, her desire momentarily forgotten. As she watched, Paul’s muscular back split and shifted, and a pair of giant bones twisted and cracked their way out of his spine. Her throat went dry as she watched the tanned skin expand and turn green. His large hands elongated, turning into massive claws, and his face disappeared into a horned creature’s head. “Oh, my God.”
There was a dragon standing in her parking lot. Scales, claws, wings, and all. And while she’d been having some pretty dirty thoughts tonight, not in her entire life had she fantasized about a guy turning into a dragon.
She froze, staring at the creature in sheer shock. All thoughts of jumping Paul’s bones flew out of her head, chased away by the emerald creature crouching in front of her. It had taken this impossibility to break through, but she’d finally gotten some measure of control over herself. She dropped the clothes and turned to sprint back to the front door. Hot air buffeted her as a strong, rough arm looped around her waist. Then it yanked her upward hard, lifting her clear off the ground.
She was too terrified to draw a full breath to scream. Neon lights blurred below her. Leathery wings beat in a noisy rhythm. Scales scratched against her neck. This is not happening, she thought desperately. The grasping arm was sandpaper-rough against her skin. Her shirt had hiked up in the back, and her bare skin was pressed to the creature’s warm underbelly. It heaved rhythmically, pressing hard enough to hurt with each breath.
“Put me down!” she wailed, beating against the arm. It didn’t release her, and the dragon growled at her instead. The sound rumbled against her spine and into her belly. “Oh God!”
Oh God, this isn’t happening, she thought again.
Without warning, the dragon swooped into a dive. Her stomach soared up into her throat, and she squeezed her eyes closed to shut out the dizzying descent. There was a hard impact as the dragon landed. It dropped her unceremoniously.
She landed face down in the grass, though she only fell a few feet. Her hands curled into the cool soil. Tears of relief stung her eyes as she dug her fingers into the solid ground. Craning her neck, she could see a tiny cottage-style house. And just above her was the smooth, pale belly of a massive dragon.
Violet sucked in a deep breath and let out a piercing scream. A massive appendage that she could only call a paw covered her mouth. It was so huge that the scaly claws wrapped around each side of her face and managed to touch the ground. Huge green eyes glared down at her, and in her peripheral vision, she could see the violent swishing of a spiked tail. The dragon growled, sending a rumble down her spine. Her muscles went weak and rubbery, and she could only think don’t pee, just don’t pee on yourself.
The dragon’s form was surrounded by light again. A shock went through her, and her limbs froze.
When the light disappeared, she found herself pinned by a naked Paul on the grass. His eyes widened. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The sight of him reawakened her lust all over again, shoving all thoughts of the inexplicable dragon out of her mind. When she reached for his face, he dodged her and leaped to his feet. “Come inside so the neighbors will not see,” he said. He ran for the door, and she followed. As he fumbled for a key from under the welcome mat, she traced the line of his spine down to his well-shaped ass, then gave it a resounding smack. For the first time, she noticed the narrow tattoo of angular symbols down his spine. He cursed and flung the door open. “In here.”
Beyond the door was a neat living room, with only sparse furniture and minimal decorations. “Cute house,” she murmured. “Where’s the bed?”
“In here,” he said. He hurried down a narrow, dark hallway and stopped at the first door. He pulled it open and gestured for her to enter. As soon as she passed him, he pushed her lightly into the room. The door slammed shut, leaving her alone in the dark room.
She stood in the pitch darkness for a long stretch. Was this some sort of game? “Paul?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You are not yourself right now.”
“Paul, let me out,” she said. The lust was evaporating and turning into anger. Anger wasn’t so bad. She could have some good angry sex with him.
“No,” he said. “You need to sleep this off.”
She fumbled against the walls, running her hands over the dry surface. Her fingers found the protrusion of a light switch. She flicked on the lights, then cursed. She was in his laundry room. “I’m serious, you’d better let me out.”
“No.”
“You’re telling me you don’t want to have sex with me?”
There was a long silence. “Violet, I am very sorry. Please try to sleep, and I will do my best to explain tomorrow.”
“This is kidnapping!” The longer she went without seeing him, the clearer her mind got. And she had finally put togeth
er the fact that she had just run into the house of a virtual stranger and gotten herself locked in a laundry room. This was how an episode of Law and Order got started.
“Well…sort of,” he said. “But I am only protecting you from yourself.”
She pounded her fists on the door. There was a weird sense of resistance, like he was leaning against the door to keep it closed. “I’m going to tell…” What was the tattooed guy’s name, anyway? “I’m going to tell my friend with the tattoos about you.” No, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t her friend, was he? He’d done something to her. It was all a confusing blur.
“Oh, I think he already knows all about me,” Paul said. He was quiet for a while, and she took the opportunity to push the door, testing the handle. It opened, and she flung it open, just in time to see Paul with an armful of pillows and blankets. “Oh no,” he murmured. Using his whole body, still gloriously naked, he pushed her back into the laundry room and dropped the linens on the floor.
The sight of him stoked the fiery lust in her again, and she reached out. He darted away easily and slammed the door, leaving her again.
“I hate you!” she shouted. And I would also totally bang you if you walked in right now. “I’m calling the police when I get out of here.” Her stupid phone was back at the bar. Hopefully Bonnie would have already called the cops. She pounded her fists on the door again. Like before, she found that heavy resistance of something blocking the door. “I know you’re sitting there listening. I hope you like prison, Paul, because that’s what happens in this country when you kidnap women and you—” Her voice died. With Paul out of sight again, her head was clearer, and she remembered exactly how she had come to be locked in his laundry room. “Jesus Christ, you turned into a dragon!” She sank to the floor, breathing hard. “What the hell is going on?”
