by Leela Ash
The housekeeper seemed oblivious to the moment she’d ruined. “I’ve taken the lady’s bag, such as it was, smallish thing!”
“What?” The girl stared at her, baffled. “Why would you take my things?”
“Well, I haven’t taken-them, taken-them,” Amarie insisted. “If you know what I mean. I’ve just taken them up to your room.”
Hannah’s confusion deepened. “My room? But I’m not staying the night.”
“Do you have a hotel?” Brandon asked. “I can call a cab for you if you wish.”
That surprised a breathy laugh from her. “No, I couldn’t afford a New York hotel. I’m going to drive straight home.”
He frowned. “But it’s almost dark already. Better to drive in the morning, when you’re rested.”
“Oh, if I get tired, I’ll just pull over and sleep in the car.”
Now his Dragon roused itself again, having vanished for the apology. It grumbled, deeply dissatisfied with the idea of this young lady sleeping alone, unprotected, in a car on the side of the road.
Brandon didn’t need any prompting. “Nonsense. My guest bedroom is far safer – and far more comfortable. Stay the night. You can leave in the morning.”
When she hesitated, he added, “Please?”
Once again, that word worked miracles. A shy smile lit her face and she nodded. “Well, okay, I guess… yes, that would be nice.”
“Wonderful. Allow me to offer you a proper dinner. It’s the least I can do to apologize for calling you a thief. Amarie, would you…”
“Already have,” the Witch-Hare chirped, as she primly marched off to the kitchen.
Chapter 3
That night, sleep came slowly to Hannah. Despite the sultry sleekness of the bed’s Egyptian cotton sheets, she tossed and turned. Exhausted, drained, her mind still raced over the day’s events and the wild swings of Fate.
How could a man change so much in a blink of an eye? Yesterday, he branded her a thief. Today – for no reason she could see – he took that word back and pledged to protect her family. What happened? What had she done?
Round and round her mind twisted, finding no answers. None added up. Not Brandon’s unexpected kindness. Not the splendid seven-course meal his housekeeper somehow whipped together. Not his pledge of unconditional support.
The worst thing? She wasn’t sure she cared that it didn’t make sense.
Who needed “sense” when a millionaire promised to banish all her problems? Was “sense” more important than his rapt, vibrant eyes studying her over a glass of champagne? Than the fact that he seemed to find her more intoxicating than the finest wines? Her! Hannah Stiles, a farmer’s daughter. A woman who didn’t know the difference between a “shiraz” and a… a… whatever that other wine was.
She’d been so embarrassed to admit that she knew nothing about wine. Surely, he’d find that crude, unsophisticated. Instead, he simply smiled and said, “Then I have so many wonderful things to introduce to you.”
No. Sense was worthless next to that. She didn’t know why, but the Greek god she’d dreamed of was back.
And about to vanish.
That was the worm hidden in the apple. None of this could last.
Tomorrow, she would wake up. She’d shower, have breakfast. Probably a lovely one, knowing how Amarie cooked. And then? Nothing. A polite goodbye. A handshake. Then she would go home to her family. He would stay here, in his New York mansion. They would never see each other again. The magic of this fairy-tale evening would vanish like a soap bubble.
Facing that, how could she sleep? Basking in the glow of his laughter, his smiles… and knowing she’d never possess them again.
Rest seemed impossible. The body, however, can’t be denied forever. Somewhere past midnight, her fatigue finally silenced her feverish mind and dragged her down into sleep.
In the dream, she stood in a small clearing. Young birch trees surrounded it, whispering softly in the night breeze. A full moon rode high overhead, bathing everything in its gentle, silver glow. At the heart of the glade, a pool glittered. Its waters sent wisps of light, like tiny bubbles, sailing up to the night sky.
Hannah barely noticed it, because he was there. Brandon.
He stood before her, barefoot on the mossy ground. Only a thin silken robe hid his lean, powerful form from her hungry eyes. It left his chest bare and heat flared deep inside her as her gaze traveled slowly down his taut muscles. Strong, fully masculine, his body held not an ounce of softness – and her own body came alive in its presence. A light sash pulled the robe closed around his hips, teasing her. Taunting her to imagine what hard, male delight waited below.
Her own clothes reflected Brandon’s, green silk to his gold. A gentle breeze swirled around her, sending silken folds whispering across her skin like a lover’s kiss. Hannah’s breath grew ragged. She wanted him. She needed him. And why shouldn’t she offer herself to him? It was just a dream, after all.
A cold dart of fear struck her heart at that thought. She’s ruined it! Dreams vanished as soon as you recognized what they were. Hannah flinched, sure she would wake in her bed drenched in sweat. Aching at the loss. To see him, nearly naked, in all his male glory… and to have that vision ripped from her before she could taste his wonders…
But the dream remained. Joy filled her, twining with her desire and delight as she realized that no, this time, Fate wouldn’t rob her. For one night, in one dream, he was hers.
Brandon stepped toward her, ready to claim her, to explore the wonders of her own soft, feminine form.
With a flicker, however, the dream shifted. She now held a cup in her hands. A silver chalice filled with the glittering waters of the glade’s pool. In his right hand, a golden dagger appeared, curved like the fang of some great serpent. Both of them hesitated. As they did, distant thunder growled across the sky. Words were hidden in its rumbles.
“No Claim without Truth,” the thunder said. “Show her.”
“Very well.” Brandon’s deep voice echoed that thunder.
His left hand removed his sash with one quick tug, sending his robe sliding to the ground. Hannah moaned softly as she finally saw his hard, stiff manhood, yearning for her with a fierce lust that matched her own desire.
His gaze locked with hers and he threw his arms wide. “Look upon my soul,” he told her.
Light exploded out from him, threaded through with ribbons of purest midnight. They curled around his sleek, muscled body, rising, coiling, merging… and suddenly, a glorious black Dragon loomed above him, the molten pools of its eyes locked upon her face. With a roar that shook her, it spread its wings wide. Dominating, claiming the clearing.
And her.
“This is my soul.” Brandon’s voice grew softer, rough with desire and longing. “Can you bear its power?”
Could she? Hannah tilted her head back, staring at the Dragon above her. Power and desire radiated from its every curve – and now, having looked upon it, she could see those same demanding, hungry emotions reflected in Brandon’s own face. His love was no weak, fickle thing. It demanded. Her body. Her heart. Everything. Now and forever. In return, he would hold nothing back. She knew this in her heart; the Dragon promised it. He would love her as no other man ever could. He would shield her, strengthen her, even lay down his life for her.
If she could surrender herself. Could give herself to him completely.
Hannah turned away from the Dragon, her heart singing. Because, truly, the choice wasn’t hard. She had dreamed of a love like this. A man like this.
“I welcome you,” she told him. “All of you. Your strength. Your fierceness. Even your rage. I want you.”
The Dragon roared its approval as Brandon’s sensuous lips curved into a smile. “Then claim each other!” it shouted. “Take what is yours.”
Two steps and he stood before her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him like a Dragon’s breath. He raised the dagger and bowed his head. “Hannah Stiles, I, Brandon Lord of the
First Flight, claim you as my Mate. Through the ages, let our souls and lives be bound.” With that, he plunged the fang-like knife into the cup of water she held.
Both dagger and chalice vanished. Hannah blinked, unsure what to do.
No such doubt troubled Brandon. He brushed the robe from her shoulders, leaving her naked, vulnerable. Then his strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against his hot, male body. She felt his manhood, his need, pressing against her as he raised her chin and kissed her. And she knew, in her soul, that he was all she would ever need. Her love. Her Mate. Her protector.
They sank to the ground, cushions of moss beneath them. Brandon leaned over her, his lips first brushing hers gently. Lingering on the fullness of her mouth. Hannah gasped with pleasure, and as her lips parted, his kisses grew stronger, more demanding.
His hands caressed the curves of her body. Exploring her, claiming her. Tracing her feminine softness, so different from the hard, taut power of his own male form. One hand stroked her thigh, her buttocks, and then glided to the swell of her breasts. A finger circled her firm nipple. Teasing, promising. She moaned with delight, her back arching, pressing against him.
Desire flooded him, answering her pleasure. His kisses grew harder, hungrier, demanding. He pulled her close, his embrace growing tight, almost painful, as his need blossomed.
But she trusted him. He was an Alpha, a master – of himself as well as others. As fierce as his desire burned, he did not lose himself. Though his kisses were still rough with longing, they grew gentler. Traveling down her neck, across her shoulders, then her breasts. Her soft moans grew louder, more desperate as his hand slid between her thighs, stroking her, sensing the aching need of her womanhood.
His hot, muscled body rolled above her. Their eyes met as he asked a silent question.
Her answer was to pull him down into a passion-filled kiss. Her legs wrapped around him. Surrendering herself to him.
At once, he drove into her. Hannah gasped as his hardness entered her, filled her. The pleasure of it scattered all thought and her fingers dug into his shoulders as irresistible need flooded through her.
He took her. Each hard, fierce stroke of his cock sent waves of pleasure screaming through her. She could feel his raging hunger, barely controlled, as he claimed her. Her pleasure swelled with each stroke, drawing helpless gasps. His harsh pants melded with them as his own arousal grew.
With a sharp moan, she came, her back arching as the crescendo peaked. His own cry joined hers as he exploded within her.
Gently, Brandon slipped to her side. For a time, they lay there, basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies. In the echoes of the bliss they had shared.
Slowly, sadly, the pleasure dimmed. As it faded, it left behind one awkward question. Hannah rolled over and caressed his cheek. “I’m sorry. Did I scratch you? I…” She fell silent, unsure how to explain the wild, uncontrollable passion he’d drawn from her.
Brandon blinked in surprise – then threw his head back and laughed, a deep, booming howl of delight. Somewhere above them, the great Dragon of his soul echoed that mirth. “Oh, my love! I’m a Dragon. You could never harm me!”
She joined his laughter, burying her face in the warmth of his shoulder. He pulled her tight, kissed her head…
And then she woke up.
The room was empty. Dark. Sweat-soaked sheets surrounded her.
She was alone.
For one heart-breaking moment, she clung to the tatters of that wonderful dream. To the hope that those nocturnal pleasures were real, that she had found her soul’s mate. Then reality came crashing down, crushing her joy.
It was a dream. It wasn’t real. None of it.
Hannah curled herself into a ball and pressed a hand to her mouth as the first tears came.
Chapter 4
Morning broke; grey and rainy. Hannah showered and prepared herself for the day, but her heart wasn’t in it. Did it matter how she looked? Her silly dreams of happiness officially died today. No, she corrected herself, they died last night after that awful awakening. As strange as the dream had been, with its dragon and ‘claiming,’ it seemed so real, so vivid. Strong enough to make her believe, for a moment, that she’d truly spent a night joined with Brandon in passion.
Reality didn’t let her fool herself, however, even for a moment. As she stepped into the hallway, her host’s angry voice filtered up from downstairs.
“Nonsense! That doesn’t happen.”
“It did.” Amarie, the housekeeper. Cross and vexed, by the sound of it. “It does.”
“Spare me your fairy tales,” Brandon hissed. Hannah hesitated at the top of the stairs, unwilling to interrupt, yet strangely tempted to eavesdrop.
The elderly woman drew herself up as far as her small frame allowed. “Fairy tales are history for our kind. You ought to heed them.” Then she turned on her heel and stomped off toward the kitchen. Brandon shook his head, muttering something, and stormed into the dining room.
Wonderful. She couldn’t even hope for a pleasant farewell. Hannah waited a few moments, glad no one had seen her, then went to breakfast.
Which was, indeed, as uncomfortable as she’d feared. Brandon brooded silently. Every now and then, she glanced up to find him staring at her, his face dark with some emotion she couldn’t decipher. Anger? Grief? Despair? Twice, he drew a deep breath and she dared to hope for a miracle. That he’d ask her to stay. That he’d offer to come with her. That something, anything, would keep them together a little longer.
Nothing did. Each time, he sighed and went back to poking his meal aimlessly. She couldn’t blame his silence. No words came to her either. There was no way she could tell him how much that empty, false dream had meant to her. It wasn’t as if he’d truly shared that flight of passion.
So, they stayed quiet. Through pancakes and eggs and a petite little quiche. When Amarie cleared away the last of the plates, however, he finally broke the stillness.
“You’ll be leaving, then.” A statement, not a question.
“Yes.” There truly was no other choice.
“Now?”
Was that longing in his voice? Did he want her to say no, she was staying? ‘Now and forever’ as the dream had said. Yet, as much as she wanted a reason, any excuse to linger, what could she say?
Logic offered only one, disappointing answer. “Yes. It’s a long drive. I should get going.”
He nodded, his expression unreadable. Then another of those shuddering breaths shook his powerful body and he rose to his feet. “If you will excuse me, then, I have business that requires my attention.”
“Of course.” She rose too, her heart leaden, and turned toward the door. “Thank you,” she added lamely. “For your generosity.”
“Please.” The warmth in that word drew her back. “Do not forget my offer. I will protect you and your family, no matter what. You have my word. If you need anything – anything – call me.”
Anything? Surely, a conniving little voice in her mind whispered, she could invent some excuse to bring him up to the farm? She had to smile at her own greed.
Brandon smiled back, and the mood shifted to a gentle melancholy.
“I’ll do that,” she promised him. And she meant it.
Amarie trotted down the stairs carrying her small duffle bag in hand.
“I can get that.” Hannah tried to take it, but the old woman neatly ducked around her, oddly spry for all her age. She wouldn’t let go of the bag until they were at the door.
As Hannah stepped into the gloomy drizzle, the housekeeper patted her on the hand. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “Things will work out. When someone’s being foolish, Fate runs them over and squashes them flat.”
Hannah had no idea how that was supposed to be comforting. Brandon was right. His help really was a bit daft. But she smiled at Amarie and then left, disappearing into the cold, grey October rain.
Continue the first in the DRAGON DREAMS series HERE on Amazon….
Oak Mountain Shifters
Leela Ash
Copyright © 2017 by Leela Ash. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
1.
“What the hell did you just say to me?”
“You heard me!”
Kent’s rage spiked and he lunged at Lawrence, the bear within him taking charge. Lawrence wasn’t fast enough to dodge the attack and soon both were on the ground, blood pouring from Lawrence’s nose and smeared on Kent’s fist.
“Come on you two, just break it up. Nobody’s going to benefit from that kind of senseless violence, you know?”
Kent growled at Tom, ever the mediator, and got to his feet.
“There’s no such thing as senseless violence,” Kent grumbled. But frankly, he had better things to do than beat Lawrence to a pulp. “I’m heading to the mine.”
Kent ran his hand through his hair and turned his back on the small group of shifters. They had been scoping the area all day in search of traces of intrusive dragon-shifters, and after finding nothing to speak of, it was time for him to report to the man in charge.
Kent shifted, needing a way to let off his steam and took off down the mountain toward the office. He popped into one of the small stations the shifters used to return to their human form. It could get awkward sometimes with humans around working at the company for a shifter who had just shifted back into his human form to strut around naked.
He dressed quickly and walked inside, heading straight to Blaine’s office.
“The West Quarter is clear,” Kent said.
“That’s good news,” Blaine said, looking at Kent with his wise eyes. “You free today?”
