by Leela Ash
“You will not refer to my Mate as ‘stupid’!” Now, the anger returned, turning Jordan’s emerald eyes into molten gems.
At once, Donnelly backed down. “Sorry, ma’am. I know better than to bark at someone’s Mate. What I should have said is, the Rite of Claiming confuses a lot of people, not just you. I can see why you wouldn’t assume a Worm could Claim a Mate anyway.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Good.” With one last nod to Jordan, he backed out the door. “And on that note, I’m out of here. I’ll pick you two up in the morning.”
As Donnelly’s heavy tread retreated down the hall, Jordan sighed. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”
“Asked what?”
“If I could stay with you.”
“Of course, you can! You’re my Mate.”
‘Mate.’ How strange, how wonderful, that word felt on her tongue. Savannah still couldn’t wrap her head around it fully. She was a Dragon’s Mate. A very wounded Dragon, certainly. Not that it mattered. To her.
For him, it was a different story. “I’m sorry for that too. That had to be the most pathetic excuse for a ‘Rite of Claiming’ the world has ever seen. No cup, no dagger… I don’t blame you for not realizing what it was. Hell, I didn’t.”
In Kin-folk legends, the Rite of Claiming was always so glamorous. Surrounded by a gorgeous dreamscape, Dragon and Mate revealed their souls to each other. By that act of truth and trust, they bound their souls for all time. Then, amid the wildest luxury and beauty they could imagine, they made love.
What did I get? A beat-up dragonfly and rummaging through a pile of bones.
Though the sex had been everything the stories promised! No complaints on that score.
In fact, did she have any true complaints? Her Dragon was a wounded soul, so badly injured that most Shifters wouldn’t call him a ‘Dragon’ at all. Any Rite was a miracle; a flawless one seemed too much to hope for.
After all, what’s more important? A big ring and an exotic destination wedding… or the love you bring to your marriage?
Savannah knew the answer to that, and her heart’s contentment dispelled any shreds of disappointment she felt. “We got the Dragon equivalent of a quick trip to the justice of the peace rather than a full church wedding. So what? We’re still Mates. That’s all that matters.”
“You set the bar very low. Though, I suppose I should be grateful for that. If you didn’t, a Worm like me never would have passed muster.”
“Stop it,” she growled, giving him a little shake. “I’m Bear Kin. Bears don’t brood – and they don’t let their Mates brood either.”
“Yes ma’am.” Jordan gave her a mock salute, but the melancholy shadow that had shrouded his face faded away. “You probably want to get back to bed. I’ll take the couch if that will make it easier for you to sleep.”
At that suggestion, she burst out laughing. “You think I want to sleep? My boyfriend of two years just tried to murder me, and I found out that I was Claimed by a Dragon. I think I’m going to be up for the rest of the night.”
“You are tense. Why don’t you slip into the hot tub?”
The room had its own hot tub? Of course, it did – Dragons didn’t rent cheap rooms. “That sounds like a great idea.”
“How about that wine you turned down before? Ready for it now?”
“The room came with wine?”
“Yes. A very nice pinot noir.”
Okay, from now on, the First Flight was making all her reservations! “That would be wonderful, thanks.”
As she stepped onto the balcony, the stillness of the desert night wrapped her in its embrace. One by one, she slipped her clothes off and placed them, folded, beside the tub. Instinctively, her hand rose to shield her breasts. It felt strange to be naked outside. A little delicious too, in an impish, mischievous way.
Beyond the railing lay nothing except darkness. No other balconies or rooms looked out on hers. Slowly, Savannah lowered her arm. Nothing (except a coyote or two) could see her. On bare feet, she stepped to the tub, savoring the slightly scandalous feel of cool air on her skin.
Steam rose from the hot tub, and she sank, gladly, into its depths. A sigh escaped her as warm water enveloped her poor, tired muscles. Droplets pearled on her fingertips as she pressed a button. With a faint hum, the water bubbled as the tub’s jets kicked in.
Currents swirled around her. Under its whispering touch, her skin awoke. Sore muscles relaxed, nerves quivered at the water’s caress. One cheeky jet sent a current swirling between her legs and stirred the short hair of her sex. Its sly touch brought a smile to her lips.
“I thought you needed this.”
Jordan knelt and set a tray down beside her. Two wine glasses, half full of rich, purple liquid. And beside them, a bowl of…
“Oh, my word! Where did you find chocolate covered strawberries at this hour?”
“In the kitchen. By the wine.”
Dragon reservations forever. Savannah raised a glass to her lips and sipped. Laced with hints of cherry and cloves, the wine swirled about her tongue. As the bubbling water soothed her body, the pinot’s gentle touch calmed her fretting, anxious mind. Tomorrow would bring problems – and she would deal with them. Tonight, the wine promised, there was only peace.
Smiling, Jordan held a strawberry out for her. She nipped it, her lips brushing playfully against his fingers. “You should join me.”
He rose to his feet and turned, as if he planned to change inside. But when he saw the disappointment on her face, his eyes sparkled, and he stepped back in full view. He kicked off his shoes without a thought. Then, he raised his hands.
Slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt. Fingers teased each button apart. The first parted to reveal his throat. The second, the first wisps of chest hair. Savannah felt her breath slow as his hands drifted lower, taunting her with their glacial pace. Now, silk opened to reveal hot, chiseled muscles. Abs, sharp and hard; a flat, taut stomach. When the last button surrendered, he slipped a hand below, down into his pants. Her heart skipped a beat, imagining what treasure it found there. Cloth swelled as he stroked himself. Whispering, with his touch, a promise to his manhood. Rousing it. Calling it.
Then, his hand rose and, with a shrug, he tossed off his shirt. Now, nothing hid him from her eager, hungry eyes. The play of his muscles, shaded lightly by fine, dark curls. The sweep of that taut stomach. The hard curves of his biceps.
Once more, his hand descended – to pop open the button at the top of his pants. Fingers curled around his zipper and tugged it, slowly, oh so slowly, down. Red silk jockeys crept into view, and a luscious, delectable swell. Then, he lifted both hands to his stomach and swept them down. Pants fell, in slow motion, across broad, tight thighs and sculpted calves. When they reached his ankles, he kicked them off and stood proudly before her. Only that scrap of silk remained. Beneath it, she saw the bulge of his manhood. Desire made flesh, and growing as he stood, savoring her hunger and admiration.
Then it, too, was swept aside. Jordan stood before her. Naked. Strong. Masculine perfection. His manhood aroused and ready.
He slipped into the pool beside her, joining her in its hot embrace. Now, it was her turn to offer him fruit, to enjoy the delicate tingle of his lips on her fingers. Together, they sipped their wine and traded offerings of sweet strawberries.
There was no rush, no hurry. No crisis threatened to drag them apart. Left alone, she could savor the languid, delicious details. The way drops of water caught in his chest hair, glittering like tiny diamonds. The hard planes of his leg pressed against hers. How his lips parted in desire as the bubbling water caught her breasts and set them dancing on its tiny waves.
This was what ‘forever’ would be like with him.
At some point, the last of the strawberries vanished. The wine sat beside them, forgotten, as they turned to other, more delicious desires.
Each other.
Jordan drew her to him. His lips met hers, as she’d longed
to have happen. She wrapped her arms around him, erasing the distance between them. As they kissed, hands explored wet skin. His stroked the slick curves of her flank and buttocks. Hers traced the muscles of his back, marveling at the odd, male power of his form. So different from the gentle curves of her own.
Damp hair chafed against her nipples and they stiffened at that touch. Through parted lips, her tongue darted. Tasting his mouth. Teasing him. Urging him to explore hers. Everywhere their bodies touched, wet skin slid smoothly, turning every move into a caress.
When he withdrew at last, deep, ragged breaths shook Savannah’s slender form. The slow dance of mouth and hand had fully awoken her desire. Fanning the embers of that slow, delicious burn into something fiercer. A need that could no longer be denied.
Jordan slid from the bench, kneeling in the tub’s center. He pulled her to him. Almost weightless in the water’s hot embrace, she drifted with ease. His hands caught her, cupping her buttocks, and held her aloft.
Somewhere close, just beneath her parted legs, his cock awaited. If he had taken her then, she would not have complained. Wet, ready, she could have happily surrendered to him and been satisfied.
But satisfaction was not enough for Jordan. Never. Dragons simply did not accept anything less than the best. Not even the fallen ones.
Holding her aloft, he brought her to his waiting mouth. The waters offered her breasts to him and he accepted their gift. A kiss upon her nipple, then another. Hungrier. More insistent. Savannah wrapped her legs around his chest. Not because he needed help holding her. No, for the simple, animal pleasure of feeling the heat of his body pressed against her sex.
Tongue, waves, and lips joined to madden her. Circling her aureoles. Lapping her nipples. Whispering across her breasts. She leaned back, safe in his powerful arms, and let him devour her.
The fire within her blazed. Her legs tightened with each of his caresses, pressing herself against him. Rubbing against the hard lines of his muscles. As her need grew more urgent, she writhed, her body silently begging him for completion.
A demand he was eager to fulfill.
He lowered her slowly. Body sinking through the water, she felt the tip of his cock nuzzle between her legs. That touch, that promise, wrenched a moan of need from her. Jordan kissed her reverently, as if he could taste her desire. Then, he settled her down upon himself. His cock, thick and hard, slipped inside her.
With a gasp of pleasure, she clung to him. Arms wrapped around his shoulders. Legs curled about his hips, drawing him deep within her. For a moment, she held him, with arms and legs, with her body, reveling in the sheer, delirious bliss of feeling him inside her. Of being filled and completed.
Then, Jordan took her.
His hips surged, pushing her up. Water splashed over her breasts, his cock thrusting into her. Before she could slip free, he pulled her down again. Water claimed her and his manhood drove, once more, into her hidden depths.
Savannah gasped with the sudden, delightful shock of it. Once more, he raised her and this time, she joined him. Legs tightening, squeezing. Taking him, claiming him.
Never had she felt such power, such control. She rode him, each thrust in time with her rhythms, her desires. Beneath her, Jordan moaned, the master now begging her for release. Rocking, squeezing, she teased his manhood. Felt it swell, heard his cries of need and longing.
Until, at last, he surged up, meeting her as she took him. With a groan, he came, filling her with his seed. Fed by his release, her own passion crested. Ecstasy washed over her. Her legs closed around him, holding him tight. Savoring that orgasm, as if she could make it last forever.
With a soft sigh, she released him. Drifting back into the water’s arms. Watching the pleasure, the fulfillment, on his face.
And when, some minutes later, they abandoned the tub and their wine, Savannah found that, yes, she could finally sleep. Curled in his arms, at last, she surrendered to her dreams.
Whatever the morning brought, they would face it together.
Chapter 15.
Morning brought breakfast in bed. Belgian waffles piled high with berries and whipped cream. A dark, bitter coffee that perked Savannah up and got her ready to face the day. Then, a shower – shared, for the first time in her life. Soap, warm water, and the even hotter presence of Jordan’s taut, hard body. Afterward, they made love again. Another gentle union, with plenty of time to cuddle and explore. A shadow lay over their love making. Her lover held tight to every moment, savoring it, as if he thought this might be their last time together.
It might be. She couldn’t deny the possibility that today, he might be condemned to death.
She couldn’t believe it, either. Not when Finn Donnelly let them spend the night in peace. That gesture, so welcome, was a great act of faith.
He gave them most of the morning too, to dawdle in the hot tub and fill the time with small talk. Not until a half hour before noon did the Dragon appear and burst the bubble of peace they’d built.
Back to the ranch house on the edge of town.
The crowd was much smaller this time. No Wolf Packs milled in the yard, fighting off boredom with mid-morning chaos. Even the judges had changed. Witch Queen LePierre was there. Of course. Savannah wouldn’t have been shocked if the woman had camped out all night, determined not to miss a chance to condemn Jordan. Beside her sat Rex Fairburn and Griffin Davis, men she hoped would support her. None of the male Wolf Alphas had come. Instead, Aaron King’s daughter, Lily, showed up with her brother, Lucas.
Almost late. They stumbled through the door just behind Savannah, visibly hung over.
LePierre turned a disapproving stare upon them. “Ms. King, where is your father and the other Wolves?”
“Hell of a party last night. Dad’s face-down in a puddle of his own vomit,” Lily announced cheerfully. “Don’t worry. I rolled him over. He won’t drown.”
“I assume he will not attend these proceedings either?” The Hare couldn’t keep the disgust off her face.
Lily ignored it. “Nope.”
“Well, we will do without him, then. As the female Alpha of your Pack, I assume you will vote in his stead?”
“Yep.”
“And your brother votes for…?”
“Nobody. He’s a loser!” She grinned with glee as Lucas flipped her the bird.
“Hey, unlike you, this ‘loser’ got invited by the First Flight.” The Wolf added another middle finger to his salute, and his sister laughed.
The Witch Queen ignored their antics and play-fight. “Mr. Donnelly, may I ask the reason for that invitation?”
“It’ll come up later, after the trial.”
The last person to enter was SueSue Mint. She slipped through the door and slunk along the wall. Rats did that when they didn’t feel safe, much like true rodents. Passing Jordan, the old woman paused. “Thanks for killing that SOB Manning. Wish you could have killed him slower.”
“You’re welcome.” Jordan bowed his head, offering the Rat a courtesy few Shifters showed her Kind. “I understand your desire for vengeance, but Savannah’s safety was my greatest concern.”
“As it should be.” Life hadn’t been kind to SueSue; it rarely was to Rats. Yet, suffering had given her a strength and endurance as great as any Dragon’s. “The living always matter more than the dead.”
Then, she scurried past and pulled a chair close to Rex Fairburn’s side. The one Shifter in this room she trusted fully.
Ever the proper lady, LePierre nodded at the other judges. “Unless there are objections, I suggest we vote immediately. There’s no point wasting more time.”
No point ‘wasting’ time – to save a man’s life? Savannah’s eyes flashed with outrage. “I object!”
“I remind you, Kin-woman, that you don’t have a vote.”
Oh no, that arrogant rabbit was not going to silence her! Hands balled into fists, Savannah stormed over to the Hare. LePierre shied away, her nose wrinkling as if a skunk had charged her. “I don
’t care if−”
“Ladies!” Finn Donnelly’s booming voice froze them both. “I do have a vote, and I’ve got something to add. Last night, Briggs and I discovered that Jordan Beaumont isn’t a Worm. He’s a, uh, Dragon-y kind of Wormy thing with freaky half-wings.”
Silence. All the judges peered at him in confusion.
Briggs cleared his throat. “I believe what the emissary of the First Flight means is that Mr. Beaumont’s Dragon soul has begun to heal itself.”
“Is that possible?” LePierre scoffed. “Can a Worm actually become a Dragon once more?”
“Dunno,” Donnelly admitted. “Guess we’re going to find out.”
“Unless he is condemned,” the Hare reminded him. “Do you have any other news?”
“Yep. Mr. Beaumont has Claimed a Mate. Her.” The Dragon pointed at Savannah.
Gasps rang out. Around the room, Shifters recoiled. Lips pinched, chin raised, Savannah met their gazes without flinching. Let them sneer. Let them stare. She didn’t care. The more polite ones, like Rex Fairburn, tried to hide their shock. Yet, even SueSue seemed startled that a woman could love a Worm.
Not everyone in the room was as polite as them, however. Danielle LePierre made no effort to hide her revulsion. Disgust twisted her delicate face into a mask of horror. “You allowed a Worm to Claim you?” she murmured. As if that was the sickest, most depraved thing she’d ever heard.
Savannah Dare was a calm person, by necessity. Excitable spies didn’t last long. But at the sight of that disgust, that arrogant loathing… something inside her snapped. Rage – towering, red, and seething – rose within her. Her hand balled into a fist and she swung it with all her might at the Hare’s smug, conceited face.
Lily, who sat beside her, moved with lightning speed. Before the blow connected, she caught Savannah’s hand in a shockingly strong grip. One that stopped the swing an inch in front of the Hare’s nose. LePierre gave a startled squeak as the Wolf said, “Sorry. Can’t let you do that.”
Savannah shot Lily a disappointed glare. A Wolf? Of all people, a Wolf wouldn’t let her punch this woman in the face?
