Her Hidden Dragon

by Suzanne Roslyn

  “Do I know you?” Minna covered her heart. “You’re a rocker. The way you play the base.” Minna fanned herself and Ashlyn rolled her eyes.

  “I love Lure! Would you… could I have your autograph?” Minna asked.

  “Of course, anything for a fan.” Sigurd patted his pants, Minna pulled out a marker from under the bar and held it out to him. He leaned forward at the same time as Minna, trapping Ashlyn between them. Minna hiked down her shirt to expose her breast. Sigurd signed the breast, capped the pen and handed it back with a wink. Ashlyn turned away, tried to slide off the stool when her back landed against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her. “Going somewhere, baby?”

  “You haven’t finished your pint?” Minna looked up from admiring her autographed breast.

  “We’ll each take one if you’ve a hand to pour one,” Quintin said to Minna.

  “Right. This one is on the house.” She whirled around and grabbed two glass mugs.

  Ashlyn brought her hand up close to her mouth to lick the beer off, when Sigurd snatched her hand and licked it off for her. He sucked on her fingers, his eyes locked with hers. She felt that little snake in her belly uncurl and slither south with a tingle. His tongue wrapped around her finger and he pulled it slow, ever so slow, from his mouth.

  Two pints splashed on the bar. “Here you be.”

  She pulled her hand from his grasp.

  And so, it began. Ashlyn calculated more people had surrounded them at the bar in ten minutes than she normally had seen in a month of coming here. She watched Sigurd sign his name on every limb, breast, and back known to the whole village. “Do you always seek attention wherever you go?”

  “Don’t be jealous, baby. I can’t help my fans adore me.”

  He had a way with them, she noticed, reaching for her pint and finding it full again.

  Someone shouted, “Play us a song.”

  She spotted Sigurd give a pretty blonde a quick peck on the cheek and made a guttural sound in her throat. She turned back to her lager, took another swig, and tried to ignore the fire balling up in her belly. He held up the neck of a ukulele.

  “It’s a party we’re having now.” Minna leaned over the counter, the neckline of her blouse dipped low and a bit of black smudge from Sigurd’s autograph winked out at them.

  Quintin’s eyes fell to Minna’s cleavage, he was a man, after all, she couldn’t blame him. But when she glanced back to the crowd, her eyes met Sigurd’s. He looked at her not as the predator dragon she knew resided within him, but as a man looked at a woman. Heat spread up her neck and burned the tips of her ears. He perched on the edge of a table, foot on a chair, and he strummed his fingers across the little ukulele. He hummed first, a deep tenor sound from his throat, and when he matched to the right note he sang.

  Around them, the crowd grew silent as everyone listened to Sigurd sing an old Hungarian ballad.

  He sent her a wink, both cheeky and wicked.

  She’d never forget this moment. Sigurd’s accent thick with the words, promises of hope and good fortune to come. The music intoxicating, filled with a heady mood which wafted through the pub and wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

  “Looks like someone is wanting to go home with you tonight.” Minna gave her a nudge.

  “So, let him want. I won’t be driving. Not after this pint. Quintin can give me a lift, can’t you?” She saw Quintin’s smile fade, all the amusement empty from his eyes. Something else came to them when he gave a quick glance at Minna. So quick. Then gone. “Sorry. Minna promised to give me a ride after closing.”

  “If you need a ride….” Minna looked over at Sigurd and back at Ashlyn. She licked her lips before pushing off to fill another pint for a patron down on the other end of the bar.

  One more reason to have another drink. Sigurd’s rich, flirtations voice, the humor on Minna’s face, the longing in Quintin’s eyes, filled her heart with an ache.

  When applause rang out, she found herself with a slight buzz.

  “You were grand,” Minna said, taking the ukulele from him when he offered.

  “Music is a part of the soul. Sometimes you have to sing it out loud.”

  “Well, you’re right good at it,” Quintin said.

  “One on the house.” Minna slid a tall glass of dark brew in Sigurd’s direction.

  “And another for me.” Ashlyn pushed her empty mug Minna’s way.

  “I think you’ve had enough for one night.” Quintin shook his head at Minna.

  “And who made you the boss of me?”

  “Will do her no harm,” Sigurd said.

  “And so, you see, I’ll have me another.” Ashlyn glared at Quintin.

  “One and you’re done.” Minna refilled her drink. Satisfied she turned to Sigurd, “You’ll take her keys and see her home, will you not?”

  “That I will.”

  Shaking her hair back, Ashlyn held up her glass, her eyes never leaving Sigurd’s. He clanked his mug against hers and grinned. “Bottoms up.”

  Chapter Seven

  He took her home, in the little contraption she called a car. They drove down narrow brick paved streets in circles because not only had the alcohol mellowed her mood, but it had muddled her sense of direction. “Tell me, baby, where is it you’re trying take me? Or it’s the hatchery we’ll go.”

  She struggled to focus, murmured, her voice quiet. She gave him an address.

  Not long after, he stood outside a tree house. A bloody tree house of all places.

  “You’ll come in.” A command more than a request. He climbed the spiraled stairs alongside her to the deck above. Not exactly the circumstances he imagined for his first invitation into her place, but he’d take it.

  She stumbled, opening the door and he reached out to steady her. He felt the heat, a quick sizzle. She jerked her arm from his grasp when he tried to keep her from falling flat on her face. “I’m all right.”

  “Steady, girl.” She narrowed those sharp green eyes at him and he wondered if she knew how damn bright they shone when she got angry.

  “I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

  “I’m a dragon, baby.”

  It looked like her, all neat and tidy. The entire place an octagon with a bed in the far right, and a kitchenette to his left. In the center was her living room, and a sweet little table for two near the sixth window, letting night inside her small abode with the stars wrapped around them.

  It smelled like her, bold and heady and sensual.

  A mug sat on the table and a half-read romance novel spread open across the arm of her couch. She pushed aside a yarn blanket and plopped down on the cushions. For a moment she looked as if she’d weep.

  Since he’d gotten her home safe, his duty didn’t end here. He eased down beside her, pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. She didn’t fight him. She didn’t protest. Instead, she melted into his arms, laid her head against his chest and sighed. No doubt, he could thank the half dozen pints she drank. His dragon knocked inside him to push this game ahead and run for third base.

  She warmed against him. “Your eyes are glowing like flames. Your skin is flushed a rosy red. Do you feel all right?”

  She rolled her head back, smiled, and reached her hand up to his mouth. She traced a fingertip along his bottom lip. “Fine. Better if you take me to bed.”

  He stared at her eyes, drawn by the color of them and knew if he wasn’t careful he’d get himself burned in their depth. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

  “Good because I want to be with you. I like the way you hold me. I want to find out what it is you’ve stirred inside me and if this feeling is real, it’ll stay.”

  “Under the circumstances…” He never got to finish his words, she grabbed his head, brought his mouth crashing against hers, devouring, tongue plunging inside his mouth, and he grabbed her back.

  She fisted a hand in the front of his shirt, tugging, twisting, until she would have ripped it. He wiggled out of it, pulling
it up as her nails grazed over his chest. She made a sound, one of a woman tasting, savoring, something oh so sweet as her hands ran over his pecs, up over his shoulders and back down to seize his biceps with a squeeze.

  He attempted to trap her hands.

  “We should—” He tried to say ‘stop,’ except her mouth came back and his lips locked again with hers.

  “Yes… Yes… We should.”

  He couldn’t to think through the steam of her hot shower of kisses. He gripped her ass and her arms wrapped around his neck. Everything tilted and sizzled. They could have been anywhere—the mountains, his lair back on the island, or on stage. Nothing mattered more than her pressed against him, her hands roaming, seeking, and her mouth urgent and scolding.

  He could take her here. On the floor. On the bed. It didn’t matter. He pushed his dragon down inside him. He wanted her. Knew deep down, without a doubt, she was his mate, and felt the urge to claim her.

  But not like this.

  It took him a moment, more than he liked, to put an arm’s length of distance between them. “No, baby. Not like this.”

  She gave him a pout, started to unbutton her blouse. “You’re right. We’re wearing too many clothes.”

  He stopped her, he’d curse himself later. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed. Sleep it off, and we can pick up where we left off in the morning.”

  “But what if I don’t want to? What if I want to take you to my bed now, then again later, and again in the morning?”

  Sigurd groaned from the sheer torture of her words as he grew uncomfortable in his jeans. “Tis the drink talking.”

  “Perhaps you’d prefer it if I got down on my knees and begged?” Falling to her knees she reached for his belt buckle. “You did say you’d make me beg.”

  He growled, seizing her hands before she could undo the buckle. Pulling her up the length of him, his heart pounding, he swore he heard her heartbeat in unison with his. Without her knowing it, her pupils turned to slits, flecks of gold and blue burst in the green of her irises.

  “You keep looking at me like that, baby, and I won’t be able to control what happens.” He wanted her naked. He wanted those gorgeous curves unclothed for his eyes alone. The dragon within him would cave to her calling if she continued to look at him with those hypnotic eyes. She didn’t know what she could do to him.

  Or did she?

  Ashlyn slid back up his body, pulled her shirt over her head. Trailing a finger over the edge of her lacy bra, she licked her lips. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

  He heard music in his ears, all the blood in his body hummed when she unclasped her bra and freed her breasts. She purred, and he shifted to ease his discomfort. She turned, slightly, undid her own buttons and pushed down her pants, revealing matching lace panties.

  It took all his control to keep his desire restrained and another deep growl rumbled from his chest. “I want you for my mate.”

  “Because I might be like you?”

  “I know you are. We dragons have a sense for sniffing each other out.”

  “And what do I smell like?”

  She played with him, batting her lashes and looking at him through hooded eyes.

  “Mine.” His chest heaved, and his nostrils flared. Her scent drove him wild.

  “Then come and show me, dragon.” She beckoned him with the curl of a finger. He followed her to the bed and she laughed. A husky, pleasurable sound, which ended in a shaky gasp as he grasped her by the hips.

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Giving her a gentle shove back on the bed, he left his lips wander across her heated flesh. As he knelt, she whispered, “Yes, oh yes.”

  He ran his hands up calf to thigh to tease the edge of navy-colored lace. He kissed her there, her hands dug into his hair as pulled the lace aside and his tongue thrust between her female folds. He wanted a taste, craved it, and tried to satisfy it. She bucked against him. He took from her hungrily. His hands squeezing her thighs, holding her open to him, and slipped his tongue deeper inside of her. She thrashed on the bed, crying out as his tongue found a sweet spot which made her muscles tense. She tried to push him away, but he held steady waiting, waiting until she shattered beneath his mouth.

  Only then did he rise above her. He wanted to take her, claim her, because in all rights she belonged to him.

  He could have taken her, too. Here and now. Hard and fast.

  Then she spoke, soft words, muffled as he leaned over her. She couldn’t know it, but her skin radiant with sweat gave her an attractive glow. Her eyes dilated, changed back, and drifted into unconsciousness.

  It took him a moment, he kissed her cheek, then swung her legs up on the bed, and covered her before heading to find the nearest cold shower.

  Chapter Eight

  Ashlyn came to with the high thrill of a Dark-eyed Junco piercing her ears. A sharp stabbing pain hit her eyes and she rolled over burying her head back in her pillow. Somewhere outside her windows a Northern pintail chirped as a woodpecker drilled its beak into one of the timbers overhead of her tree hut. She tried stuffing her pillow tighter around her ears. “Go away. All of you. Please leave me alone.”

  “Not what you were telling me last night.”

  Ashlyn’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes wide-open, awake, she rolled back over. She bumped right into the solid wall of Sigurd’s body.

  She squinted, blinked, tried to focus on the block of naked chest mere inches from her nose. She got a good whiff of coffee combined with male sweat and a bitter aftertaste of last night’s pear flavored beer. “Oh God.” She flew back against her pillows, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Gently, Sigurd pried the feather-filled barrier from her hands. “Come now, baby. It’s not all that bad.”

  “Says the naked man in my bed.” Her body hummed with his closeness. Like a magnet, she gave into the pull to get closer to him.

  Sigurd chuckled. “Says the naked woman who tried to rip my clothes off.”

  She glanced down under the blanket. Her cheeks flamed. Seeing the red marks on his chest, she reached out, tracing them. Part of her had hoped it had all been a beer-induced dream, while the other part grew damp in remembrance. She rested her forehead against his chest, the constant throb behind her eyes blocked her efforts to recall more of her wanton behavior.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath.

  “You’ve a bunger of a headache I image. I know what is good for headaches.” He cupped the back of her head. His fingertips against her scalp felt good as he massaged the nape of her neck. She sighed, relaxed against him, and closed her eyes in effort to refocus.

  She must have fallen asleep for when she opened her eyes again, she was alone with a blinking light of her cell phone to greet her. Beside it a glass of water and two Aspirin awaited.

  After she washed the pills down with the water, she picked up her cell phone.

  Haven’t heard from you.

  Status?

  Have you gotten the egg from Emily?

  M

  Leave it to Emily to screw everything up for the Keepers. Her foster sister would have to get herself out of the mess she created by not delivering the egg she had been sent to retrieve. Ashlyn had her own dragon to deal with.

  At least her head didn’t throb as bad as it did. Cell phone aside, Margaret could wait. Her state of undress, and the man who’d made her world quake, took priority. Forcing herself out of bed, with it clear past noon, she moved as fast as she could to look alive, but the smell of coffee still lingered in the hut. It drew her to the kitchen and the bare-chested dragon frying pancakes at her stove top.

  “I see you made yourself at home.”

  “You know what they say when you invite a dragon in.”

  “And what is that?”

  “He stays with you always.”

  “There is no such thing as always. Don’t you have some place you need to be?”

  “I’m right where I need to be.”
<
br />   She couldn’t resist staring at his broad back while he fried pancakes. Fried food and hangovers didn’t mix, she placed a hand over her stomach, feeling sick.

  He laid out plates and the pretty cloth napkins she embroidered with roses and a blue-tailed finch. If it didn’t hurt her head to laugh, she would have at him standing there with a dishcloth over his arm and waiting to see her to her table.

  “I have no time for this. I have duties. The birds at the aviary…”

  “Have feeders full of seed. You, however, need more than bird pickings.” And there it was, that wicked grin of his. “Unless you wish to skip dinner and start your first lesson?”

  “And what lesson would that be?” She had to ask.

  He sauntered over to her, looked down that straight nose of his, and said, “The one where I show you how to properly greet your mate.”

  A shiver tingled her spine as he took her by the chin and lifted her lips to crash against his. Teeth and tongue, she opened her mouth to the sheer bliss of entwining her tongue with his. She didn’t think. She couldn’t. His hands rubbed and pinched and plucked her like the cords of an instrument needing his tuning. His touch, the thrill of it, ran through her hot and scorching. But she liked it.

  No one had ever touched her like this. Nor had they been as bold as he to taste her in her most intimate spot. Her panties got wet, quick, and made her squirm a bit.

  Breaking the kiss, she panted to catch her breath.

  “Have you been properly greeted, then?”

  “Lesson is not over yet.” He led her to a mirror above the little table by the door. He spun her around, held her there as she gazed into the mirror. “You have the most beautiful eyes, dragoness.”

  Up came her shirt, over her head, quick and slick before she could protest. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the ones reflecting at her in the mirror. Not her eyes. No. Those couldn’t be her eyes. Those eyes didn’t belong to a green-eyed girl. Those eyes had slits and shined like emeralds with tiny flecks of gold staring back at her.