“Yeah.” Zander made a mental note not to shake hands with Kerry. She could blow the whole thing. “Rena is psychic, but I’ll let her explain how it works.”
“Has she shifted yet?”
“No, but she hasn’t bonded with her mate either and—”
“True, but with hybrids, we don’t know when their powers will emerge. It’s been different for all of them so far.”
“Can I bring her to the ranch or what?” He was losing his patience. “You can give us a history lesson later.”
Silence filled the phone line, and for a minute, Zander thought Coltari had hung up.
“All right, fine. Bring her to the ranch, but no weapons. You know where it is?”
“Yeah, I know the way. We’ll be there tomorrow night.”
A clap of thunder shook the air as a powerful gust of wind tossed branches along the ground.
“If this storm lingers, it’ll be Saturday morning. But no later.”
“I meant what I said about the weapons. You’ll both be checked at the gate by the guardian, Dominic, and trust me when I say he will be one pissed-off dude if you break that particular rule. If there’s one clan you don’t want angry with you, it’s the Tiger.”
“Yeah.” Zander rolled his eyes at the thinly veiled threat and recalled the way Arianna would go on about their strength. “I hear they’re the baddest of the badasses.”
“Of the ten clans, they’re among the fiercest fighters. Always have been.”
Zander stilled.
“Ten?” He let his gaze drift back to the cottage and played dumb. “That’s how many clans there are, right? Only ten? I thought Isadora said there used to be eleven.”
“Nah, man, just the ten, and lately, that’s been more than enough,” Dante said with a laugh. “Unless you know something I don’t?”
“We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Zander hit the End button and slipped the phone into his pocket.
Son of a bitch.
Dante, and presumably the other Amoveo still living, didn’t think the dragons were extinct—they didn’t even know about their existence in the first place. Imagine how surprised they were going to be when they found out that they had one hibernating on their property.
Chapter 11
When Rena stepped inside the toasty-warm log cabin, she flipped the light switch by the door and let out a low whistle. The whole place was decked out from top to bottom like a ski chalet out of one of those ritzy travel magazines. The open floor plan on the first floor made it seem larger than it was, but somehow, it still felt cozy and safe. Directly across from the front door was a massive stone fireplace with rocks of varying shades of gray trailing all the way up to the vaulted, beamed ceiling. An overstuffed sofa, flanked by two equally cushy-looking chairs in shades of rust and brown, created a welcoming sitting area around the hearth.
On the right was a sweeping kitchen with honey-toned cabinetry and white granite countertops. A large island with barstools separated the kitchen from the open living room and would be great for entertaining—but she doubted that Zander threw many parties. Off to the left was a staircase leading to what she could only assume was the loft bedroom. When she lifted her gaze, she swore under her breath because she couldn’t get over the size of the loft above. The bedroom ran the full width of the cabin and overlooked the first floor. Two other doors, both of which were closed, flanked either side of the staircase.
Rena kicked off her wet boots and hung her coat on the wall hooks to the left of the front door. She placed the bags on the bench beneath and wandered over toward the kitchen. Her curiosity was piqued when she spotted what looked like a note on the island countertop. She padded over in her sock-covered feet, grateful for the braided rugs strategically placed around the cabin. The wide-planked wood floorboards were cold and slippery, and she had a hunch she wouldn’t be barefoot the entire time she was here.
She was about to pick up the note, but her hand stopped in midair, right above a bowl of fresh fruit. Rena frowned and retracted her hand, quickly folding her arms over her breasts as she surveyed the area through a more critical lens.
Everything was really clean—no dust, fresh fruit, the heat had been turned on, and there was a large stack of firewood beside the hearth. Didn’t Zander say he hadn’t been back here in a long time? That he was hardly ever here?
Someone else had already been here today.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she scooped up the note and quickly opened it.
Zander,
The kitchen is stocked with most of your favorites and the bed has been made. Freshly cleaned towels are in the upstairs bath. Due to the incoming storm, I had the generator refueled too. You should have all the creature comforts of home.
Much love,
Lana
Lana? Who the hell is Lana?
A flicker of jealousy flashed when Rena thought about some other woman tending to Zander’s comfort. She ran her fingers over the smooth paper and, for a split second, thought about using her gift to take a look at this Lana chick. But when the front door clicked open, she immediately thought better of it and quickly slapped the note onto the counter.
She spun around and clasped her hands behind her back awkwardly just as Zander stepped inside. She was going to make a smart-ass remark, but the sight of him momentarily made her lose the ability to speak. Or at the very least, her mind went totally blank, because all she was capable of for that minute was soaking in the sight of him.
He was dripping wet. Water sluiced from his leather jacket, which he promptly hung up before kicking off his boots. His jeans were wet too and clung to his long, strong-looking legs.
Were the pants coming off next?
Rena swallowed hard when she let her gaze skim over his ass as he leaned over and peeled off his socks. Jeez. Even his bare feet were sexy. The dark T-shirt he wore was damp and clung to every dip and curve of muscle in his back. His ropy, well-defined arms flexed as Zander turned to face her and pushed his shaggy, wet hair off his face with both hands. His damp skin glistened in the soft, yellow light of the cabin. Zander’s chiseled features seemed even more defined than before. His jaw was covered in the dark shadow of scruff, and those haunted eyes of his peered at her intently beneath dark eyebrows.
The two of them stood there for at least ten beats of her heart. Neither one said a word. Only the sound of rain pelting the roof and their breathing filled the cabin. The space that only moments ago felt open and spacious had shrunk in size the instant Zander stepped into it.
The man was like a walking flame, and it was as if all of the oxygen had been sucked from the air the instant he slipped inside. Suddenly, each breath was more labored than the last. The plan, the one she was so proud of, now seemed like a stupid idea. This man wasn’t one to be toyed with.
A flicker of self-doubt niggled in the back of her mind.
What if he really didn’t want her?
Maybe he really had only kissed her because she reminded him of Arianna?
Rena sucked in a shuddering breath as he returned her bold stare. The simmering heat in his unwavering gaze seared into hers. Warmth seeped into her chest, and her entire body shimmered beneath his inspection.
It was now or never.
Her heart raced, and her tongue flicked over her lips before she finally worked up the courage to say something.
“Your Lana,” she sputtered and jutted her thumb over shoulder toward the counter. “I—I mean someone named Lana left you a note.”
Rena’s cheeks flamed. The hint of a smile played at Zander’s lips, and he moved slowly toward her. Her befuddlement amused him? She tucked her hair behind her ears as he sidled closer and picked up the paper. Even with the barstool separating them, his towering form was close enough that his body heat, even more intense than it had been earlier, wafted over her, reminding h
er of the flickering flames of a fire.
She half expected steam to rise off his damp skin.
Rena leaned one elbow on the island and studied him while he read the note.
“Who’s Lana?” she asked with as much nonchalant innocence as she could. “She sure is thoughtful to come over and set the place up for you.”
“She’s a friend.”
Zander crumpled the paper and tossed it over Rena’s head into the tall, white garbage can in the corner. The movement brought him even closer, and his musky, leather scent filled her head. She breathed deeply and fought the sudden lust-ridden urge for her eyes to shift.
His arm dropped to his side, and that piercing gaze flicked to hers, melting her insides bit by bit. Rena’s steely resolve to seduce the big, bad dragon wavered as she gazed into the limitless depths of his haunted eyes. Swimming behind the cool facade were the lingering effects from centuries of pain and loneliness.
A kindred spirit, lost in the dark but seeking the light.
The knot in her chest, the core of her steely self-sufficient resolve, loosened. Rena knew, better than anyone, what it was like to drift through the world alone and unwanted. Zander might have been a dragon all those years ago, but he wasn’t a monster.
He was a man deserted, cut off from both the human and the supernatural world.
Rejected by both. Belonging in neither. Just like her.
Why hadn’t she seen it sooner?
“Lana lives in town,” he murmured. “Keeps an eye on the place for me, and sometimes she runs errands. Like she did today.”
“Are you two close?” A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes, daring her to continue, and Rena was only too happy to take that challenge. “Friendly?”
“You could say that. I’ve known her a long time.”
The gruff, gritty tone of his voice tripped over her flesh in wicked jags, and heat pooled between her legs. Rena clenched her thighs together, but the friction only exacerbated her body’s reaction to his. She let her eyes drift over him boldly, wanting him to know that she was taking him in.
All of him.
“How long?”
Her voice was soft, in stark contrast to his, barely above a whisper, and part of her wondered if she had even spoken out loud. She swayed closer. Dangerously close. Her knee bumped the stool, and her chest was a breath away from his. She tilted her head to the side and allowed her line of sight to drift slowly across the broad expanse of his shoulders. She sighed as his throat worked when he swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed in a movement that shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was.
“Because, as we’ve established”—her eyes latched on to his once again—“your idea of a long time is way damn longer than anyone else’s.”
“Long enough,” he murmured. “She’s on a very short list of people I trust.”
“Have trust issues, do you?”
“You could say that.”
“I understand. I have a few of my own.”
Rena pushed the stool out of the way with her knee, removing all physical barriers, and inched nearer until her sock-covered toes bumped his bare ones. A zing of desire whisked through her blood from even that transitory contact. Zander didn’t flinch but continued to hold her bold stare with one of his own. She fought to keep her breathing steady, but when her hand brushed his, a small gasp escaped her lips as a rush of heat exploded beneath her flesh.
The infinitesimal skin-to-skin contact held the promise of so much more to come. Rena’s patience was waning, and even though she wanted to dive deep, to lose herself in the sweeping rush of heated flesh against flesh, she exerted hard-won self-control. If she came on too strong, too fast, then Zander would definitely bolt. Better to slide in and slip beneath his well-fortified defenses before he even realized what was happening.
“Do you trust me, Zander?”
Rena tangled her fingers with his and sucked in a shuddering breath when Zander’s human eyes shifted into the blazing orbs of his dragon. His body tensed against hers as he gently squeezed her fingers while pulling her toward him. Or was she leaning into him? Rena gasped with pleasure when her sensitive nipples raked against the lace of her bra as her breasts met the hard planes of muscle.
She allowed her own eyes to shift with a tingling snap.
“Yes,” he said gruffly. “It’s me I don’t trust.”
“Why?” Rena trailed one finger over his bare forearm, the warm skin still damp from the rain, before dipping it beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt. “Are you worried Lana will show up and find us in a compromising situation?”
“Lana is sixty-five years old.”
“That so?” She peered at him beneath heavy lids. “Then she must know something is up with you, since we’ve already established that you don’t age.”
“Let’s just say she’s one of the rare humans who’s familiar with the supernatural world. We were never lovers.”
“Had many of those over the years?”
“A few.”
Amusement flashed across his face but was swiftly smothered by unmistakable desire when Rena curled her hand around the swell of his bicep. She stopped when her fingertip drifted over a lumpy patch of flesh. The skinny line was about three inches long, and she rubbed the raised area lightly. His body wavered against hers, and his energy signature surged through the air in a rush of damp heat, reminding her of a tropical storm.
Unpredictable, intense, and wild.
To her surprise, Zander allowed her to investigate the marred flesh.
“How did you get this scar? One of your many conquests, or a jealous husband perhaps?”
She pushed the edge of his sleeve up with her thumb and stilled when she spotted two others on that arm. Rena trailed her fingers slowly along the crook of his elbow, the tiny hairs rasping deliciously beneath her fingertips, before gingerly investigating the marks on his forearm.
“I don’t make a habit of bedding women who are spoken for. There’s no honor in it.”
“Mmm.” Rena pressed her thumb against a circular scar. “What about this one?”
A pang of empathy flared as her gaze skittered from one arm to the other. How had she not seen all of these scars before? Blinded, perhaps, by her own issues? Not anymore. Rena’s hands danced gently over his bare skin, the pads of her fingers whispering along the evidence of what had obviously been a brutal, painful life.
These marks and scars were more than leftover mementos of the battles he had fought from one century to the next. Far more. Collectively, they created a road map of the unusually long lifetime he had struggled through—and suffered—alone.
“Rena…don’t…”
His voice was strangled. Tight. Like he was doing his best not to sink into her touch, but of course, that only encouraged her.
“Don’t what?”
The innocent tone was in stark contrast to her motives. No. There was nothing chaste or innocent about the way Zander made her feel. She was like a moth drawn to the entrancing, flickering flame. The danger was clear, and part of her knew if she ventured too close, she would be consumed.
In spite of the threat, Rena was unable—unwilling—to stop.
The heat in Zander’s eyes and the hum of lust that thrummed between them was like a drum pounding in the distance, calling to her. Drawing her in with its hypnotic, erotic rhythm. Her gaze wandered over his broad shoulders, and her breath caught in her throat when she spotted a small, white scar on his jaw. The crescent-shaped area of bare flesh was free of dark beard stubble. Out of an instinct to soothe the pain, she went to touch it. Zander grabbed her hand, preventing her from stroking the age-old wound.
“Stop it.”
The gruff, almost-guttural tone of his voice made her heart skip a beat, and the hungry, feral look flashing across his face did little to ease her raging hormones.
“No.”
She raised her other hand, but Zander grabbed that one too and held her so that their faces were scant inches apart. Rena’s fingers flexed and curled around his, wanting and needing more of him. More of his touch. Her leg drifted between Zander’s, and a shuddering gasp whispered from her lips when her thigh was met with rock-hard heat.
So much for not wanting her.
“You said you wouldn’t lie to me,” she whispered.
“Cut it out.”
“What?”
Rena arched one eyebrow and gently applied more pressure against the unmistakable evidence of his desire.
“That,” he ground out.
“This?” Rena pressed her thigh against him, harder this time and in a slow, circular motion meant to incite him. “Or that?”
“I’m warning you, Rena.” His energy signature raged around the room in volatile, tumultuous waves. “You have no idea what kind of game you’re playing.”
“Now, you see, dragon boy,” she said with a sigh, “that’s where you’re wrong. I know exactly what I’m doing. I think you’re the one who’s confused. You say you don’t want me, but your body is telling me another story altogether.”
Zander released her wrists and, in a flash, cradled her face with both hands as his eyes glowed brighter. In that crimson light, she saw unmistakable desire. His desire for her. Rena gasped and clutched the fabric of his damp T-shirt, instinctively pulling him against her. His body hummed with tension as the hard planes of his heated, muscular torso seared along hers.
“It’s true,” he murmured. “My body yearns for yours.”
He dragged his thumb over her lower lip, and the friction sent a wave of lust and heat directly to her core. A fission of need burned in her belly, stealing the breath from her lungs. Rena’s fingers flexed and clenched as she blindly grappled for the edge of his shirt. She moaned softly as her hands settled over the hot flesh along his waist, which melded against her palms with wicked perfection.
Zander’s mouth hovered barely an inch away, and their breath mingled as he held her there, his strong fingers holding her face with unexpected tenderness. It was torture—pure, unadulterated torture—to have him so close and yet so far. Rena wiggled her hips and pressed herself against him, wanting and needing him to end her torment, to offer the release she so desperately sought.
Undiscovered Page 16
