Her Dragon Temptation (Alpha Protectors Book 7)

by Olivia Arran

  She spun my chair around, settling in and scooting it closer to the desk. Setting a purse on the solid oak slab—something I’d been too distracted to notice before—she rifled around inside, pulling out a handful of pens, a notepad, and an e-tablet. Setting them to one side, she nudged them around until they formed a semi-circle enclosing my computer, then set her hands on top of the desk.

  She looked so small there, the large chair frame swallowing her up in its cocoon of cracked leather and battered wood. Brown eyes blinked at me out of a face nature had designed to take my breath away.

  My heart thudded, as though trying to force it’s way out of my chest.

  A soft click. She slid a pair of wire rimmed glasses onto her nose, pushing them up with one finger as her lips pursed into a frown. “Password?”

  “What?” I couldn’t help myself, I knew I was staring.

  “Your computer. I need access to your files, Bastian.” At my continued silence, her frown deepened. “I know you think I’m out to get you, but I’m not. Honest. If I can find a way to fix your clan, I will. That is, as long as you haven’t been…”

  I filled in her unsaid words. As long as I hadn’t been continuing to gamble the clan’s money away. She didn’t look away, and neither did I. Both of us sending silent messages I had no hope of deciphering. Did she want me to fail? Would she cover for me? Did I want her to?

  “Astrid.” I pointed at the computer.

  Her fingers tapped the keys and the screen lit up with the swirling screensaver I preferred. Impersonal. Generic. Safe.

  “Paper files?” When I tilted my head to the cabinet in the corner, she nodded, pushing her glasses firmly back up her nose from where they had slid. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

  Dismissed. I snorted, shooting her my best scowl, the one that had villagers ducking for cover and Astrid rolling her eyes.

  Faye ignored me.

  I circled around, peering over her shoulder as she scrolled through screens filled with numbers. My numbers.

  “Do you mind?” she murmured, not bothering to turn around.

  I leaned closer, partly so she could feel my breath on her neck—the breath of a pissed off dragon, lest she forget—and partly so I could drink in her scent one more time. Yeah, I was an addict, and she was quickly turning into my latest addiction. “This is my house,” I murmured in a low voice, watching as she flicked through screen after screen of accounts, never seeming to hover over any number for too long.

  “If you want to keep it that way, you’ll let me do my work,” she snapped back, shooting me a withering glare, but the tips of her ears had pinked, bare from where she had tucked her hair behind her ears to make room for her glasses. Then she made a shooing gesture, flicking my hand where it had come to rest next to hers on the desk.

  She’d shooed me. Flicked me! Torn between grunting and chuckling at her audacity, I circled out from behind the desk to pace in front of her. She’d never said she had to be left alone to carry out her work, and with a little encouragement, she might be out of here by nightfall.

  This time the roar of outrage from my dragon was expected, as was the lancing pain through my chest at the thought of being parted from her, even for a moment.

  It was getting worse. Every second she was here, I grew weaker. Craving. Lusting.

  Her exaggerated sigh had me pausing mid-stride.

  “Isn’t there something you’d rather be doing? Anything? Other than watching me?”

  Visions of removing her glasses and bending her over the desk speared into my mind, clouding my judgment.

  She swallowed, her throat working hard and eyes rounding behind the wire frames. Plucking my thoughts from my face, one by one.

  “You know there’s something I’d rather be doing, but I’m partial to watching you, sweetheart.”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her hand smoothing back a stray curl and adjusting her glasses.

  Fuck removing her glasses, she could leave them on for when I slide my cock deep inside her. I’d thread my fingers through her hair, holding her in place for my kiss. Balance her on the edge of the desk and hike up her skirt until she’s naked and bare for me, wet and needy for my thick shaft between her gorgeous, plump thighs.

  My mouth dry, I dug my feet into the floor to stop myself from striding over there and making good on my silent promise. It wasn’t like I had a hope in hell of hiding the erection tenting my pants. No way, and I didn’t want to either. I wanted her eyes on me. I wanted her to see what she did to me. How hard she made me without even touching me.

  She blinked, her cheeks rosy with heat and her lips parted. Her hands hovered half-way between her chest and the desk. She sat undecided and frozen as her gaze lowered—as if following my silent command. Lower. Lower still, dragging across my chest and down my stomach, until she couldn’t miss it.

  She sucked in a breath, almost a hiss as her lips parted a little wider. Her hands pressed down onto the desk, fingers splayed and nails digging in.

  I wished I had updated my office, moved into the current century and replaced the big, old desk with glass and steel. That way, I could peer beneath and watch her thighs flex and rub, fighting against the sudden surge of heat in her core.

  But I could smell her need. Taste it on the air, liquid and thick and sweet.

  I rocked forward on my feet. “Faye—”

  She closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you go flying? That’s what dragons do, right?” It came out on a rush of air, thrown out there as an innocent distraction. She didn’t know she was throwing arrows tipped with points sharp enough to puncture even my armor.

  The panic had nothing to do with her dismissal. Her rejection of my not too subtle advances. That, I could deal with. This was an old pain. It was something that I owned as a part of me, never to be forgotten, but sometimes easier to bear. If I didn’t think on it.

  I couldn’t fly. I hadn’t flown since the day Astrid had left me alone, the grass barely seeded over our parents’ graves. As a new Alpha, young and inexperienced, I’d made mistakes. I had fought my way back, and had sunk down again, over and over. Each time I’d sunk lower and lower, until my dragon refused to show himself. I drank and gambled and blotted the world out—wrecking everything I’d come into contact with. My dragon had abandoned me, refusing to bond with me. He’d left me alone, which suited me fine. I didn’t need comfort or platitudes; I could do this on my own. I just needed an heir to leave it to.

  Until recently, he hadn’t even talked to me. Until her.

  I strode out of the room before I did something I might regret.

  Like fall to my knees and beg.

  Faye

  The door shut with a soft click, at odds with the tornado of anger and frustration that had stormed through it in the form of a certain Alpha dragon. There’d been anguish too. It had streaked through his eyes, tarnishing the brilliant blue stormy and dull.

  What had I said to cause such a reaction? Surely it wasn’t because I hadn’t rolled onto my back and spread my legs at a single lift of his eyebrow?

  Not the only thing that had been lifting… I smothered an inappropriate giggle, more anxious than humorous, and removed my glasses, rubbing at my eyes. I’d been two seconds from crawling across the desk and prostrating myself for his attention.

  And he’d known.

  So my deflection shouldn’t have dented anything but his ego, which was big enough to float the floundering economy.

  I’d mentioned his dragon. Was that it? Was his anger because I was human? Did he want a shifter warming his bed? A low sound filled the room, bouncing off the walls.

  Jerking back, I sealed my lips closed, cutting off what sounded suspiciously like a throaty snarl that was good enough to be from a shifter. Even the thought of another woman in Bastian’s arms had me wanting to storm after him, climb him like a tree and stake my claim.

  What. The. Fuck? What claim? Something was seriously wrong with me. Pinching t
he bridge of my nose, I forced my mind off the wonders of his physique—and how he would feel under my hands as I climbed him—and back to the matter at hand.

  Something was wrong with him. His file stated that he was reckless. An addict. Out of control. That he’d squandered his family fortune on high stakes card games. No mention of alcohol though, that must have come later, or been hidden. Though he didn’t act like a typical lush, and I was pretty sure any shifter would find it hard to maintain the low level buzz a functioning alcoholic would need.

  I was back to square one. Now that I’d met him, nothing made sense. He wasn’t gambling anymore—hadn’t since that night he’d lost everything and nearly forfeited his sister. So, he could quit, and easily too, which meant he wasn’t really an addict.

  My eyes flicked to the open fireplace, the grate filled with ash waiting to be swept away. An uptight asshole, maybe. Constantly wanting to control everything. Changing his mind on a whim and a prayer, like pressing a woman to bed one minute, and giving her the cold shoulder the next.

  Columns of figures swam in front of my eyes. Red, red, red. A mess. Bills and debt overflowing.

  Maybe I was wrong and everyone else was right. Maybe I should shut the file on him, tick the box and hand his future over to the Council to decide. Maybe he wasn’t worth the effort … or the heartache I suspected he might cause me if I allowed myself to care.

  Silence reined thick through the house. No creaking floorboards, or thud of life. He wasn’t coming back. But I hadn’t heard the front door slam either, which meant he was still here. Brooding. Scowling. Cursing me with those wicked lips and furrowed brow.

  One click of the mouse and the screensaver sprung back to life, mesmerizing and brain numbing.

  I wasn’t going to find the answers I needed here, I had to go to the source itself. I had to make him tell me. Make him understand that if he didn’t help me find a way out of this hole, he wasn’t coming back.

  Out in the hallway, I paused, listening to the creak of the house shifting in its foundation, the whoosh of water draining through pipes, the wind whistling against the windows. And a soft thwack thwack carried on the air. Following my ears, I pulled open a door, descending into the bowels of the house, eyeing cobwebs illuminated by a swinging naked bulb and wafting a hand in front of my eyes to beat away the faint shower of dust coming from the ceiling. Naked beams snaked above me, the floor below me a thick slab of concrete, but that wasn’t what drew my attention nor was it what kept it.

  A large bag swung in the middle of the shadowy room, swinging back and forth from a metal chain looped around one of the many beams. The faint sound I had followed echoed loud and clear as his fists pounded into the bag, his weight driving it forward in sharp, potent jabs. Muscles coiled and sweat dripping off him, he danced around the rotating target, sweatpants hanging low on his slim hips, teasing glimpses of abs rippling as the light caught and flashed off his slick skin. Power barely constrained curled his lips as he unleashed his fury on the inanimate object.

  He was beautiful. Deadly.

  Captivating.

  A soft groan left my lips before I could bite back the sound, my knees weak as I clung to the rail.

  He spun on light feet. The bag swung back.

  I uttered what I thought was a cry of warning.

  His arm snapped out, halting the bag in it’s tracks with a single finger. Lips still curled, he regarded me with a look I couldn’t even begin to fathom. Tension radiated from him, steam rising and curling into the air, his eyes flashed with silver sparks as his pupils dilated to round orbs. “What do you want from me?” He didn’t snap, didn’t shout. His voice was smooth and liquid.

  An enticement to stay away.

  To come closer if I dared.

  Did I dare tease the dragon in his lair?

  Chapter Four

  Bastian

  Her scent arrived before she did, filling my lungs and tightening my chest, until acid ran through my veins and ate away at my insides, demanding and unrelenting.

  It filled me with pain. Pain—of denying everything natural and right. Of denying her.

  Why should I fight it? She’d make a good mate. She’d give me the children I craved. But she’d demand love. Hell, she’d deserve to be loved, and that was something I wasn’t willing to give.

  She hovered at the bottom of the steps, her hesitation curling one hand into the wood and bracing the other against her stomach. Delicate fingers plucked at the fabric of her blouse, teasing the cotton in a rhythmic motion that echoed the sound of her thundering heart.

  Did she know what she was doing to me? Did she understand how close to the edge I was? The relentless ache grew behind my eyes, throbbing and insistent as need clawed at me.

  She hadn’t answered my question—she had barely even breathed since laying eyes on me. Her deep brown gaze was caressing as it learned my body in a way that almost felt like a violation. That was, if it hadn’t felt so damn good. She wanted me, I could read it in her reluctance, in the way she clung to the steps as if they were her only chance of keeping away. Her breasts strained with every breath, her nipples beaded, hard and visible through the soft cotton. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, her lips barely parted and eyelids lowering, but not breaking away.

  The workout hadn’t helped. I thought it had, had fooled myself by thinking I had it under control. Bullshit. One look at her and I knew I was losing the battle. My dragon obviously didn’t give a shit. He was happy to let me continue to slide into oblivion and drag her down with me.

  He didn’t care. So, why should I?

  She doesn’t deserve this! I shouted at him inside my head, begging him for help, the strength to resist what fate insisted I take. She deserves better than me. Than us!

  He didn’t answer, but his claws raked down my insides. Telling me what? I didn’t know.

  She cleared her throat, choosing exactly the wrong moment to speak, unaware that inside, I was waging a war—with my soul. “I want to know you, Bastian.”

  Fucking hell, Faye. Wrong answer.

  My control snapped, her words shredding what remained of my resistance. A deafening roar blotted out all thought, my feet were moving, three strides and I had her pinned against the wall, her ass filling my hands as her legs spread around me. I growled, sliding a hand up into her hair and dragging her head back, my lips crashing down on hers and claiming what was mine. Plump and soft, her lips moved beneath mine, a startled yelp escaping. I swallowed her protest, seizing the opportunity, my tongue spearing deep into her mouth and tasting.

  Fuck. My every cell vibrated with how right this felt.

  Her hands crept up my back, sliding over my skin and molding to my shoulders. Blunt nails dug in, a soft whimper breathed into my mouth, her tongue tentatively dueling with mine. Back arching, her hips thrust forward, grinding against my painfully hard shaft, rubbing and teasing as she responded beautifully.

  Sliding my hand around, I cupped her breast, rolling her nipple back and forth as my hips rocked into hers. I deepened the kiss, the world fuzzy and indistinct around us, the feel of her nails scratching up my back, her fingers reaching up and threading through my hair, tugging my head in a bid to fight for the right to claim me as her own.

  She was it. The one. My other half. There was no denying the triumph running through my soul, sinking into my heart and squeezing.

  The roar in my ears cut off. My hand slid from under her ass, lowering her back to the floor. I stumbled, my lips breaking free. Air floated between us as I staggered back, my mind bending under the knowledge. This was it. I could claim her or set her free.

  No! I don’t know who shrieked inside my head; my dragon or myself? I didn’t care. He didn’t get a choice in the matter. His claws tore into me, his roars faint and unheard, his demands insignificant.

  She is the path to redemption.

  Lies.

  This is what you need to forgive.

  Forgive who? You? Never.

&nb
sp; Flexing my hands, I wrenched my eyes from hers, shoving my dragon back and caging him inside my mind. My chest heaved, the air burning my lungs. Sweat cooled on my skin, cold infusing me and working its way into my bones. He didn’t have the right to speak now, not after staying silent for so long. I was in charge.

  I made the decisions.

  Faye

  I was rapidly losing the fight with my knees, my traitorous legs intent on hitting the floor. Keeping my eyes pressed shut, I sucked in a gulp of cool air, forcing it down into lungs that struggled to remember their purpose, my breath coming out in raspy gushes. I could still feel him on my lips, the flesh tender and bruised from his lustful attack. I could still taste him on my tongue, rich and unique. Addicting. I could feel his strength surrounding me. Holding me. Protecting me from the world and it’s evil.

  Not like my douchebag ex-husband, who’d used his superior strength to bully and belittle. Little nudges and withheld caresses to drive home the fact that I was weaker. Worthless. Ugly. Chipping away at my sanity until I believed every word out of his rotten, stinking, lying mouth. Playing with my mind until I cracked, unable to carry on with his game.

  Not like that.

  I sucked in another breath, this one less of a struggle. In Bastian’s arms I’d felt both unbreakable and fragile at the same time, his large hands caressing me with a firmness that fired my blood, but with a gentleness that warmed my heart. His body telling me without a shadow of a doubt how much he wanted me. Desired me. And—for that single moment before he possessed me—his eyes had locked onto me, like he couldn’t do anything but kiss me. Like he’d rather touch me than breathe.

  But, why did he stop? I blinked open my eyes, reality rushing up to greet me.

  He stood a few steps away, not moving an inch, the only sign of life was his chest rising, then falling, and a muscle jumping in his jaw.