Close call. At least I escaped.
I plop the bottle on the counter and grip the edge of the sink.
So why does it feel like I am missing out? That I’ll never know how it feels to trace those biceps with my fingers, to rub my face against the rough whiskers of his chin, to have him bend me over and slam into me, and… My belly twists, my pussy clenches, and the moisture flows from between my thighs.
Heat sweeps over my skin chased by chills. Sweat beads my forehead. I don’t have a choice. Looking around to make sure the space is empty, I swoop under my skirt, push aside my panties, and thrust my finger into myself.
“Ah.” My groan fills the space; the sugary sweet scent of my arousal spikes the air.
I plunge the finger in and out of my dripping channel, then add another. “It’s not enough.” I grit my teeth.
“Maybe I can help?”
My eyes fly open, and I see his blue eyes in the mirror.
Dante
It was my presence that aroused her, so it’s up to me to help her, right?
Silver eyes meet mine in the mirror. She stares at me as if she can see into my soul. Maybe she can see who I really am and why I am here?
And now I am getting fanciful.
She’s only a human I happened to spot while on this mission to Moscow. Except as I had passed this bar at the edge of Red Square, I had caught the scent of orange blossoms and pepper, a spoor so irresistible that I had stepped into the bar. One look at her, and I had to have her. Just the kind of man I am. I want something, I take it. Especially curvy sprites with soft skin, and an arousal that bleeds into the air, seducing me to get closer, closer.
“Starlight.” I suck in a breath. My voice echoes in that enclosed space.
“Um… what?” The heat in the space turns up a notch. A bead of sweat trickles down her temple.
I grip the ends of the basin, blocking her in. “You have stars in your eyes, and yet when I touch you”—I place my cheek next to hers— “you flinch, wanting to draw into yourself; even as every part of you blooms for me, aches for me, wants me to scoop you up and lick you all over. Everywhere, in every secret nook of yours.” My heart thuds. “I want to destroy your every hole. Fulfill your every fantasy. Fill you to the brim and make you come over and over again.”
Her pupils dilate.
Her cheeks flush.
I am sure she is going to run out of here screaming, or perhaps turn and slap me, either of which will only add to the pleasure. For when I have her, she will forget everything, except me. My touch, my fingers, my lips as I make her scream with pleasure. As I break her.
The witch pulls her hand out from under her skirt. She straightens, then brings her fingers to her lips and sucks on them.
Desire roars in my blood. I feel the suction of that rosebud mouth as if it isn’t her fingers but my cock that she sucks.
My pulse thuds.
My shaft goes rock hard.
Whaddya know? This one is feisty. One who’d dare to go toe to toe with me. She has no idea what’s in store for her. No woman has tamed me yet. And it’s certainly not going to be her.
The things I want to do to her, to bring her to her knees, literally; just the thought of fucking that mouth of hers makes my balls draw up.
Only when the touch of her skin filters into my blood do I realize that I have wrapped my fingers around her wrist.
I tug on her hand, and she doesn’t resist. I bring her glistening fingers to my lips and ease her forefinger inside my mouth.
The taste of her infuses my veins.
I bite down on her finger lightly, and she shivers. She wriggles her hand in my grasp, and I tighten my grip.
Coercing her hand to the side, I slap her palm down on the sink in front of her.
Her breath hitches, but she stays where she is. Impressive.
Still holding her gaze, I reach for her other palm and place it flush on the surface as well.
She gulps but doesn’t say anything, just holds on to the edge of the basin with her hands. The skin stretched over her knuckles is white.
I take a step back, hold my hands up to show her I am not forcing her. I tilt my head.
She raises her chin and her lower lip quivers.
I want to tell her that now is her chance to leave. If she doesn’t want this, doesn’t want the pleasure I can give her, then she should get out of here. But something warns me not to speak. If I do, it will break this strange trance that holds the two of us. This communication that we have established on the unspoken level.
So I jerk my chin toward the exit, all without breaking contact with her gaze in the mirror.
Her eyes follow the direction I’ve indicated. She frowns, her muscles go solid, then her eyes skitter back to hold mine in the mirror.
In a very deliberate gesture, she widens her stance. She pushes back from the sink, so her butt is poised in the air. Still, without breaking the connection, she circles her hips, and again.
Each move of hers is meant to seduce. Her skirt rides up just enough so I can make out the edge of her panties. White seams, simple cotton underwear. She hadn’t come here to pick up a male. She hadn’t intended to part her legs like this and invite someone to glide their fingers inside her and… What the hell is this? An attack of consciousness?
“Last chance.” My voice comes out on a growl. "If you want to leave, then now is the time."
Yeah, okay, so I know it’s a mistake to speak, but I can’t help myself. I need to share what I have in mind; and in a fashion, that leaves no room for misinterpretation.
Blame my chivalry on pure greed.
I want her to remember me with unadulterated lust. I need her to understand that she yearns for this as much as me.
Her eyes sparkle. “Who said anything about leaving?” She darts out her tongue and runs it over her upper lip.
Heat flushes my skin and sweat breaks out on my forehead.
What is it about this woman that I have such a visceral reaction to her? I’ve never felt this turned on, this needy for a female before. And I won’t again; not for anyone else. The thought sends a skitter of awareness prickling at my nerve endings. I hesitate.
She holds my gaze in the mirror. “I want you.” Her gaze scrolls down my chest to my crotch where the evidence of my arousal must clearly strain against my pants.
Even before the words have left her mouth, I close the distance between us. I shove her skirt aside, seize her panties, and tear them off.
To find out what happens next read Dante and Gia’s passion filled captive romance here
Read the RONE Awards nominated, AMAZON top 200 bestselling, INCEPTION (Dragon Protectors 1), HERE.
"★★★★★Primal, sexy and so very satisfying! Sizzles from page one with toe curling and tummy tingling heat!" -InD'tale Magazine, Crowned Star of Excellence
Read an excerpt...
Hope
Twenty-four hours into her break from being a sentinel of the dragons of Mauritania, Hope had walked into that bar in Bombay.
She wasn't supposed to be in Bombay.
The dragons had flown under the radar for so long. They'd kept away from people until they had all but faded from memory.
She was taking a major risk by being in that city, but she hadn't been able to resist.
The city had always called to her, and for once, Hope couldn't soothe her dragon out of the urge to visit.
A few weeks more, and she would be bonded to a fellow dragon shifter. She was looking forward to it.
Liar.
Sweat trickled down her spine. The scents of the shifters, vampires, and humans in the bar, entwined with the smell of her desperation.
She tightened her fingers around the glass. It shattered the liquid splashing onto the bar counter.
As one of the seven born to the dragon who’d founded her clan, it was her duty to mate with another dragon and continue her bloodline.
No other species could survive the psychic impact of bonding wit
h a dragon shifter. She was screwed.
Likely, this was her last night of freedom, and she had to make the most of it.
When she was out flying through the air or winging through the seas on her boat, she could be herself. She felt free to do what she wanted, without fear of letting down her family.
It was also the reason she kept breaking the rules of her clan.
It was childish of her, but these occasional bouts of rebellion were what kept her dragon sated. Enough to allow the woman to stay in control in human form.
"Non-alcoholic ambrosia, please." She peered up at the bartender from beneath lowered eyelashes.
The man's eyebrows flew so high they disappeared under the hair that fell over his forehead. "Let me guess. You're a dragon shifter, the only species who don't like alcohol."
A jolt of fear ran through Hope. The heat of the enclosed space inside Alex's bar weighed down on her shoulders. Had she been found out?
Then she saw the teasing glint in his eyes.
She relaxed and raised her fingers to her mouth, pretending to yawn. "Do I look like a dragon shifter?"
The bartender looked over her features, down her chest, to her waist, then back. "Hmm. You're curvy and tiny and too sexy to be one."
She recognized his harmless flirting and decided to play along. "What does a dragon shifter look like, anyway?"
"Large, fire-breathing, with wings." He flapped a palm in the air. "Never seen one. They're almost extinct, right?"
"Right." She flashed a smile.
Had the satisfaction of seeing him blink.
Oh, he was interested all right, and cute and friendly. Only… she wasn't looking for any complications.
"By the way, it's not like dragon shifters don't like the occasional alcoholic drink. But when you’re a fire-breather, alcohol tends to add fuel to the flames. Know what I mean?"
Hope clamped her lips shut. Hell! She shouldn't have said that. But her dragon had insisted she set the facts straight.
Dragon 1. Woman 0.
Stupid game! But it was so much more fun to keep her dragon and woman in balance this way.
Her animal was too damn close to the surface. She never had managed to rein it in. Very early, Hope had realized that unlike the others, her dragon took a lot more to control.
The bartender didn't seem to hear her muttered comment. He was too busy shaking up a concoction.
A crash from the other end of the bar had her turning that way. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Both dragon and woman were riveted.
The clinking of the glasses, the conversation of the couple next to her… all of it faded. All she saw was him.
The man who had her attention rose to his feet, only to stumble.
She didn't even realize she was moving until she found herself next to him.
The feel of the rock-hard muscles of his shoulder bunching under her fingers sent a thrill of awareness rippling through her.
She was in so much trouble.
Aaron
Five minutes earlier
"Non-alcoholic ambrosia?" Aaron stared into his glass, hunching his shoulders. Sounds of laughter, conversation, the clinking of glasses… all of it washed over him. Aaron wrapped the noise around his shoulders. He wanted to bury himself in its anonymity.
"That's all you'll be getting from me for the rest of the evening." Alex, the bar owner, folded his hands over his chest. "You've already had five drinks in less than an hour."
A record, even for someone who'd decided to make the bar his second home in the past few months.
But it was not enough.
Not when Aaron could still hear the screams of his twin, Zayn, as that bastard Noah had sliced the sword through him. Noah. An immortal warrior, a fellow Ascendant, had gutted his twin three months ago.
In doing so, he'd torn out the other half of Aaron's soul.
Zayn was gone. In his place, all that remained was a black hole. A darkness that had grown since the moment Zayn’s light had blinked out on the psychic web shared by the Ascendants.
With every passing day, his grief expanded, until it twisted his insides. Until he'd become a creature he couldn't recognize anymore. A twinless twin.
Just thinking about it pulsed keening grief through Aaron.
Moving aside the ambrosia, he reached for the bottle with the amber-colored liquid he craved. It was the only thing that helped numb his emotions, blotting out any sign of who he was. Aaron Garcia. The youngest of their group of immortal warriors, since the death of his brother.
Before Alex could protest, Aaron tilted the glass back, letting the liquid burn down his throat. It hit his stomach with a sickening thud that did little to douse the emotions warring there.
Then, just as he’d intended, a veil of blankness crashed between him and the ever-present grief that threatened to overwhelm.
Aaron still felt the pain, but it was a little duller. Only a burning twist of a knife's blade that carved out his heart, leaving him numb.
The harsh sound of Zayn's breathing as he lay dying was muted. He would never forget the feeling of his twin's life seeping out.
It should have been him, the cynical older brother, who had died. Not Zayn. Not the one who’d had so much life. Every time he’d stepped into a room, he’d lit it up. No one who’d met Zayn had remained unaffected by his pure joy of life.
Zayn's vibrancy had provided that much-needed link to everything that was bright.
With his death, Aaron had no anchor.
He reached for his glass, only to miss it. The glass toppled over and hit the floor, smashing to pieces.
Without a pause, Aaron grabbed the almost-empty bottle, raising it to his mouth.
Alex tore it out of his hand. "Enough!" He didn't approve of Aaron trying to drink away his grief.
Neither did his fellow immortal warriors.
Tired of being told off, Aaron had moved out of his barracks in the mayor's complex and into a room just above the bar.
Alex hadn't turned Aaron away. Probably because it was easier for Alex to keep an eye on him that way.
Not that it mattered, as long as Alex kept his tab running and kept the liquor coming every night.
The alcohol had done its job. Aaron didn't feel anything. Not even his legs as he got to his feet… and almost collapsed. Reaching out, Aaron grabbed the bar counter, as if it were his only support in a world gone wrong.
Someone touched his shoulder. The scent of vanilla and sunshine laced with something hot and spicy tugged at his senses.
"You okay, Guardian?"
Aaron turned, and the world tilted.
Golden sparks in green eyes pierced the fog in his head.
She raised her chin. The dark cloud of auburn hair around her face kissed the honey-brown skin of her neck.
The amber pendant nestled in the dip between her delicate collarbones caught the light from above, throwing her face in relief. Cheekbones slanted down to meet a heart-shaped chin.
She was sensuous, yet had just a hint of obstinacy in those eyes to make her intriguing. Those luscious, unpainted lips. He wanted to sink his teeth into them.
Aaron had wanted to shut out the world since Zayn's death. He hadn't thought that when he decided to face reality, it would be like this.
Months of holding back all emotions shattered, and the feelings he'd tried to smother for so long rushed to the forefront.
"Guardian?" That husky voice called him back to the present.
She was addressing him. His black pants and the shirt with the armband were a dead giveaway that he was part of the mayor's elite team of Guardians of the City.
His senses reached out to her. A flare of silver zinged between them on the psychic plane before disappearing so fast he was sure he'd imagined it.
Heat slammed into his chest, and the breath whistled out of him. "Who are you?" He reached up to rub the spot over his chest where it throbbed.
Hope
He looked at her, and his pain sli
ced through her as if it were her own.
Those cobalt-blue eyes drew her in, inviting her to drown in them. It was as if he saw straight to her soul, to who she was.
If she let him, he'd strip away her barriers.
His unleashed dominance thrummed against her nerve endings, and Hope's will dissolved.
She wanted to reach out and pour herself into him, to push away the grief that dragged down his spirit.
"Hope?"
Little sparks of awareness skittered over her skin.
He chuckled.
The sound tugged at her lower belly, reaching parts of her they had no business reaching.
"I've been looking for hope."
"Oh?"
The man nodded, eyes intent, framed by long hair that flowed down his back. Cheekbones jutted out, sloping down toward an unruly beard that clung to his features.
Hope wasn't partial to beards, but the look suited him. He felt untamed, wild… and so sexy.
Her dragon shifted, restless, jolting a pulse of heat through her.
One side of his lips twisted, in a smile or a sneer, she couldn't tell. He looked like someone who was trying to hold on to his control. Or someone who was trying his best to not fall over.
He was drunk.
Even in his inebriated state, those glazed eyes held an edge of threat. His T-shirt molded itself to his chest, outlining rippling muscles that marked him as a warrior. Tattoos ran up the side of his right arm, disappearing into the sleeve. He looked lethal.
Yeah, this man had a mind of his own.
Reaching out a finger, he brushed her cheek.
Sizzle.
A jolt of electricity coursed through her. His touch arrowed straight to her core.
On the psychic plane, her dragon lunged for him, anxious to get close, to wrap her wings around this man and inhale his essence. Her dragon recognized this male. Wanted to bond with him.
She reined in her beast.
If she let things progress, they'd sleep together, and Hope knew it would be not be casual. The Guardian’s life was in danger. From her.
Wanted by the Alpha Page 7
