by Abigail Owen
No way could he tell her. She’d—
“What does my touch do to you?”
Dammit. The woman was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Drake backed up from the bed. “Nothing. Get some sleep.”
“No.”
She struggled with the blanket that had wrapped around her legs when she’d knelt before following him out of the room. “Does it hurt?”
Drake stopped twenty feet from the door and turned on her with a snarl. “Just forget it.”
“No.”
Cami stalked toward him, the grace of a predator in each stride. Gods she’d be glorious in her dragon form. What color would she take on?
She kept coming, and, for the first time maybe ever, Drake had to fight an instinct to back up.
He didn’t run. Ever. Certainly not from a tiny, determined still-human woman.
She reached for his face with both hands, but Drake batted her away. Except, she latched onto his arms, and that sensation, now that he knew what to look for, spread through him twice as rapidly.
He had to control his breathing. “Let go, Cami.”
“What do you feel?”
“Pissed.”
She rolled her eyes and moved closer, slipping her hands under his shirt to press against him, wrapping herself around him. His mind cleared like fog blown away by a stiff breeze. The easing she brought him could get addictive. So could Cami.
Heavens help him, he didn’t want her to let go. He didn’t want it to stop. Which made him a selfish bastard.
“Quit,” he forced himself to say. More like snap.
Immediately Cami released him and stepped back, eyes wide and almost wounded. “Talk to me,” she pleaded.
My mate.
Fuck. He’d never, in almost eight hundred years of life, thought he’d find her. He searched her face, realizing he’d already memorized it, every curve and dip, the lush sweetness of her lips, those wide, glorious eyes. Would they turn more red when she became a dragon? He hoped not. He didn’t want anything about her to change. She was fucking perfect.
And still waiting.
He shook his head. I’m a death sentence. Again, he gave his head a shake. Where had that clarity disappeared to? Fog filled his thoughts, making his actions sluggish.
All the fight went out of Cami at his small gesture, her shoulders slumping, sort of caving in on herself. “I think I’ll go get something to eat.”
Drake forced himself to let her go. To walk away. But the second she pulled the door open, his dragon raged within him, the fire in his belly lighting out of his control.
He jerked forward a step. “You make me feel better.”
The words were out almost like the creature inside him had forced them out for him, though he and the dragon were one and the same.
Cami paused, hand still on the doorknob, then looked over her shoulder at him. “What?” she asked.
Wariness reflected in her eyes. He’d put that there. He’d never cared before, but right now he hated the distance. He should say nothing and let her go, but all the strength in the world couldn’t save him from the woman standing across the room. Too late now. “Your touch. It makes me feel…better.”
Cami closed the door but stayed where she was. “Better how?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” She lifted her eyebrows and he shrugged. “I don’t talk feelings, Cami.”
Her lips twitched and his dick, in a constant state of semi-arousal around her anyway, twitched in response and thickened.
“So give me a physical description,” she said. “What does it feel like?”
“Warm. And cold. Easier. Clearer. Less…” He paused on the last word.
“Less…?” she prompted.
Of course she wouldn’t just let it go. “Less broken.” He tossed the words between them.
Her sharp intake of air reached him like she’d stolen that air from his lungs. “What does it mean?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He lied through his teeth.
…
I’m his mate.
Not that the thought was a new one. But the mere idea of her touch helping him, and Cami suddenly couldn’t breathe and yet everything in her settled, like she’d found the proper configuration for her parts.
Because it felt true. In her soul, in the most secret, sacred part of her.
Rune had said wait until she was sure. Suddenly, she’d never been more sure of anything in her life. Like all the pins of a lock finally clicked into place with the right combination, releasing her from whatever doubts had shackled her from knowing.
Except the joy that wanted to bubble up inside her was weighed down like a lead balloon.
Drake was fighting it.
No way did the implications not already occur to him, and she didn’t need one guess, let alone two, to figure out where his head was at. He was dying, and he no doubt believed finding a mate now was a decade too late. He had some twisted notion of protecting her from himself. That was part of who he was.
If he’d walk away from his sister without a goodbye, what would he do to save his mate?
The terrible memory of Goret trying to get to Yelena before they both perished bombarded her, sending a shard of pain through her at even the hint of something similar happening to her and Drake.
But not finding each other, not taking the chance would be worse. She knew it like she knew herself. Besides, he wasn’t factoring Cami in to his unilateral decision. No way in hell was she letting her mate die.
Granted, she couldn’t exactly force him to mate her, either. Which meant she needed to approach this carefully, patiently. Not her strongest quality. “I think we should try a little experiment.”
Drake crossed his arms, resuming his usual mode of glaring silence.
“Nothing too crazy,” she offered.
Drake grunted. “I don’t think we should do anything.”
She held out a hand. “Just hear me out. You need to get some sleep, and I wouldn’t mind some more, since this crazy dragon shifter woke me up in the middle of the night to fly me around the California countryside.”
His glare turned suspicious, eyes narrowing, arms flexing as if he was holding himself back. But he didn’t say no. He didn’t say anything.
Cami tried her most winning smile. “Have you ever spooned?”
“Spooned.” Like it was a foreign word.
“Cuddled,” she tried.
“No.” Drake stalked in her direction with the obvious intention of leaving.
She scooted into his path, blocking the door. “Too bad. It’s such a lovely way to—”
“I mean no, I’m not sleeping with you.”
He tried to sidestep her, but she backed up until the doorknob hit her lower back. “Not naked or anything. Shirts off. I’ll wear a bra for modesty.”
What she wanted to say was, “It’s not like you haven’t been inside me.” But that would definitely make him run.
“No.” He picked her up by the arms and set her to the side.
“Don’t you want to see if you wake up feeling a lot better? You might need it for when these Alaz people get here.”
Drake stopped with his hand on the doorknob and said nothing. Cami stayed quiet, letting that sink in, watching how the muscles of his shoulders flexed under his shirt. Quiet with Drake meant thinking, she was coming to find. That or no opinion. But she very much doubted no opinion was what was going through his head right this second.
He shook his head, and disappointment added more lead to those balloons trying to float up in her, dropping to the ground with a smack that made her flinch.
“Just sleep,” he said.
What? Did he just give in?
He turned to face her, about as serious as she’d ever seen the man, which was saying a lot. “We o
nly sleep right?”
If she had her way, they’d do a hell of a lot more than sleep, but that wasn’t happening. Baby steps. If all she could do for this man was take away some of his pain, she’d be satisfied with that. Maybe.
I might have to be.
“Just sleep,” she agreed.
Drake pivoted with the precision of a drill instructor and headed for the hall that led to the bedrooms. Was that a yes?
He paused outside his door, eyebrows raised, presumably at finding her still superglued to the same spot. “You coming?”
A couple balloons escaped their moorings, floating around in her with a level of hope she shouldn’t give credence to. Not yet.
In the span of weeks—of being sniped at and grumped at and laughed with and kissed and listened to—this man had become more important to her than…
She’d almost thought than her own family. But that couldn’t be right. Not this fast. Could it?
Doing her best to keep a stupid grin off her face, Cami followed Drake into his room. In a jerking move, like his arms weren’t working properly, he stripped his shirt off, the ripple of his muscles highly distracting, then got busy pulling back the blankets. Not wanting to give him a chance to rethink, Cami did the same, happy she’d worn a sports bra when she’d dressed and followed Drake out of her parents’ house in the dead of night. Was that only last night? Wait. Tonight?
Drake turned and quietened at the sight of her, his gaze skating over her even as a scowl descended.
She didn’t need to have that dragon telepathy to read his expression. He was second-guessing. Time to get moving. She crossed the room and took him by the hand. “Come on. I’m tired.”
“You were hungry a second ago.”
That too. Except not for food. If she told him that, though, he’d be out of here faster than a scalded cat on a hot tin roof with its tail on fire. “That can wait until morning,” she said.
She assumed it wasn’t light outside yet. The strips at the top of the walls were still barely glowing.
Slowly, showing reluctance but not arguing at least, Drake circled the bed and got in beside her. Deliberately, Cami turned her back on the dragon shifter in bed with her, giving him no cause to argue himself out of this.
My mate.
Fluttering, Jurassic-sized butterflies took up permanent residence in her stomach.
After a pause, a solid arm slipped around her middle, tugging her back until her body lay flush in the curve of his. Heat filled her from the contact, zinging straight to parts of her that she willed to calm down. He’d scent her need for him and end this.
What she wanted was to turn in his arms, offer him her lips, her body. But not yet. He wasn’t ready yet. Instead, she closed her eyes and enjoyed this little bit of him. Soaking in the moment. Drake was dying. Pain ripped through her at that. How many moments like this would they have before—
Cami shut that thought down along with the pain. She refused to consider it. Not because she’d save him. If he was right, she couldn’t, though she’d damn well try. But mostly she shut it down because she wouldn’t let the specter of losing him ruin the precious time she did have with him.
Gradually, they both relaxed into the embrace. Cami allowed his heat to ease the tension from her muscles and her mind. Eventually, her eyes fluttered closed, and sleep claimed her.
Chapter Seventeen
A soft moan called to Drake through a dreamless slumber, reached to him through a comforting darkness he was reluctant to leave. Maybe the best sleep he’d had in a long time. As wakefulness dragged him out of oblivion and into his room, still dark as well and just as comfortable, a small hand crept across his chest, leaving a trail of tingling sensation in its wake.
His senses came online like someone switched the lever labeled “power” and in an instant he was surrounded by Cami—the softness of her skin as she lay molded against him, that wandering hand, the erotic and smoky scent of her, the silk of her hair across his chest, and the perfect smell of a woman seriously turned on.
His dick went from semi-hard to raging in less time than it took a rocket to leave the earth. At the same time, every good intention of keeping his hands off her in any sexual way flew out the fucking window in the face of a need he’d never experienced before. Like a hunger eating at his insides, and it wouldn’t stop until he had her under him.
With him, too, a small part of him acknowledged. Because she’s my mate.
She moaned again, her lips brushing his pec.
Drake froze, clenching his hands to keep from flipping her on top of him, or rolling her under him. Holy hell. “Cami?”
Was she sleeping?
“Cami?” he tried to shake her by the shoulder, only he couldn’t stop from trailing his hand over her skin, absorbing the soothing warmth that spread out and through him from the contact.
Damn he felt good. Amazing. Better than he had in almost a decade at least. Like he’d discovered his own personal fountain of youth.
He yanked his hand back at the dangerous idea. Addictive if he let it become so.
Frustration festered as his cock throbbed, pressing uncomfortably against the fly of his combat pants. “Cami?”
Her name was harsh now. Desperate.
She stilled in a way that told him she was awake. Then she sucked air in slowly, silently, her chest moving and expanding against him, almost as though she was breathing him in, just like he had her.
But she didn’t say anything or otherwise move.
“Are you awake?” he asked.
“No?” Her voice came out small, though she was obviously up.
Drake bit back the urge to chuckle. “Why is that a question?”
She huffed a defeated-sounding sigh. “Because if I wake up, then you’re going to get out of this bed. And what I need right now is something you don’t want to give me.”
If a gold dragon, the largest of their kind, landed on his chest right now, he’d still breathe easier than he was. He had no doubt what she needed. If they were mates, their bodies were made for each other, tuned to each other in a way that passed any understanding. He needed it, too.
She was right, he should get up and leave.
But he couldn’t. Maybe if they were dressed and she was across the room. Not with her skin against his, in his arms, against his body.
“What do you need?” His voice came out gruff as he had to force it past vocal cords that seemed as paralyzed as his thoughts.
Cami trailed the tip of one finger over his chest, drawing little designs across his skin. Except the touch felt like she was branding him. Claiming him. Marking him in her own way.
“Cami.” He was starting to growl now. He placed a hand over that wandering finger, stilling her. “What do you need?”
“You.”
Fuck.
Drake rolled so that he lay on his back and she hovered above him. Those big brown eyes gazed back at him with total trust and a fire that didn’t need physical flames for him to see. The combination would’ve brought him to his knees if he’d been standing.
“You can’t have me. Not really.” He made himself say it, though the words felt like sand in his mouth.
Stubborn lines drew her brows together. “Because you’re dying?”
He jerked a single nod.
Cami didn’t even flinch. “I’ll take what I can get until then.”
Gods, he was tempted beyond the level of his willpower. He could feel himself sinking into the answer, his dragon driving him to take her and claim her. Anything he could have of her. Scraps would be better than nothing.
“What about your mate? He’s out there.” The deceptive words tried to choke him, like a boa constrictor crushing his windpipe, but he got them out.
Cami bent a look on him that said she was done with bullshit. “You’re my mate.”
How could he turn away from that? From the promise in those stubborn eyes? Except he had to. “I can’t be. Mating me would kill you.”
Cami’s frown turned her eyes confused shades of darker and she leaned up, putting a distance between them that he should want, but loathed just the same. “So…you don’t believe in the whole destined mates bit?” she asked.
“Not exactly.”
He grimaced. Lying against her like this felt like Cami was his anchor and if he lost her, he’d drift off to sea. What if he was wrong?
“What do you believe?” she asked.
Drake shifted his weight, irritation with himself and the fates and this entire damn situation itching at him from under his skin.
Cami put a hand to his face, and that sense of easing turned into something that wanted to cut his heart out just so he could give it to her for safe keeping.
She took a deep breath. “I’ve been led to believe that only one dragon is my fated mate and choosing wrong gets me killed. What does that mean if that man is you?”
She didn’t voice the rest, but she didn’t need to.
Drake was silent for a long moment. Long enough that Cami brushed the stubble on his chin, trailing her thumb to his lips. Almost as though compelled.
“I have my…doubts about the process.” Drake’s voice rumbled through his chest before he gave thought to the words.
She lifted her gaze to his, but didn’t stop touching him, ratcheting his desire up with each soft sweep. “What doubts?”
“What if it’s not fate with a single man that makes a mate survive the change?”
Cami frowned, mulling that over. “What is it then?”
“That a woman showing dragon sign still has to prove strong enough to accept a dragon shifter’s fire in the mating process. Fated mates has nothing to do with it. It’s all about the woman’s strength.”
“So I just happen to have your mark on my neck and anyone with that mark could be my mate as long as I live through the fire?”
Just like that, he wanted to see that mark, flip her over and blow fire across her skin to see it glow. Then fuck her and fill her with his fire and make her his.
