Читать книгу Dragon's Promise - Denise Lynn - Страница 9
ОглавлениеOutskirts of Detroit—One year ago
“Man, now that is one fine-looking piece.”
“Yeah, how’d you like to have a taste of that?”
Inwardly seething, Sean Drake’s only physical display of disgust was a slight tightening of his grip around the beer bottle in his hand at the juvenile comments the thugs in the booth behind him were making about the woman who’d just taken a seat at the bar. Their antics and crude behavior were starting to chafe at his last nerve.
These men were petty thieves and thugs. One was a large, hard-drinking bully, and the other his smaller, junkie buddy. Both low-life slugs.
He’d run into them a few weeks ago when they were casing the neighborhood around his current apartment. They’d been looking for their next target, and he’d made certain to accidentally bump into them that night to thwart their plans.
He should have killed them instead.
Had he followed his gut instinct, they wouldn’t be here tonight, intent on harassing someone weaker and smaller than themselves. He wasn’t about to let that happen. He didn’t care what trouble they brought on themselves, but they wouldn’t be permitted to hurt anyone else.
Sean tossed back the bottle of beer he’d been nursing and realized with a start that it was time to go home. Not to his sparsely furnished, one-bedroom apartment at the edge of the city, but home to the forested mountains and Dragon’s Lair. He choked back a laugh at that thought. Barely eight months had passed since he’d left the Lair, but it felt like years. Actually, he hadn’t simply left. Confused, half-dead and afraid for his life, he’d run away in the middle of the night.
It had taken him most of this time alone to come to the conclusion that he’d deserved the beating the Dragon Lord had given him. After all, his unwillingness to control his new, and unwanted, powers had put not just himself at risk, but he’d also become a danger to his brothers and their families. As the Dragon Lord, Braeden had been forced to choose between knocking some sense into the new changeling, or killing him.
Thankfully, even though it would have been within his rights as the lord, his brother hadn’t chosen to take his life. Sean knew he should have been grateful, but at the time, the boulder-sized chip on his shoulder hadn’t allowed him to see reason. Instead, he’d convinced his sorry self that everyone hated him, that nobody understood him—basically, he’d reacted like a spoiled, self-centered child.
But he hadn’t been a child. He’d been a relatively normal twenty-six-year-old adult with a college degree, and more wealth and opportunities than most people would see in a lifetime. He had a good position in the family business and a family who’d cared about him.
Until just over a year ago, when he had been torn from a dark dream by the sounds of a striking whip and an evil cackle, followed by what sounded like a raggedly chanted curse. He hadn’t been able to make sense of the breathless words, just snippets of a woman’s pain-filled voice. A demonic urge to change into a dragon had filled him. With it came an unrelenting need to seek Drake blood. Since he wasn’t a changeling, he had chalked it up to being nothing more than remnants of a nightmare.
His shape-shifting into a dragon would have been fine as far as Braeden or Cameron were concerned. Since both of his older brothers were changeling wizards and possessed dragon blood from birth, they would have welcomed his newfound ability. But it wasn’t fine with him. He had always been the normal one, the human brother without any power to read minds, transfer thoughts, slide into dreams, shift into a dragon or materialize someplace on a whim.
For many long weeks after the nightmare, he’d been edgy, moody, confused and unreasonable. As the next month passed, instead of fading away, the troubling urges from that dark dream grew. At the time, he’d thought he was losing his mind. But then, when the dream turned real and he had shifted to dragon form, he’d felt invincible and driven with only one purpose in mind—to kill his brothers. Aunt Danielle had been convinced that he’d been cursed—and since he had heard bits of a chanted curse in his nightmare, he agreed with her assessment, but could do nothing to break whatever spell had been cast over him, except wonder who had cast the spell and why.
Cameron had spent the next two months trying to teach him how to use this new unearthly power and how to control his urges, but Sean had been reluctant to accept his brother’s training. One night, in a moment of what he could now only consider pure insanity, he’d shifted into dragon form and attacked Braeden.
While he’d known that as the Dragon Lord his brother was a powerful wizard, he hadn’t truly known just how powerful until Braeden’s beast gave him a beat down he’d survived only by some miracle.
Sean rubbed the side of his neck. Just remembering that night made his scars burn like fire. How would his brothers—and their beasts—react when he showed up at Dragon’s Lair? Would they let him come home? If so, what would it cost him to gain entry back into the family fold?
A sudden flash of sensual heat flowed through him, interrupting his musings and drawing his attention to his surroundings. The brilliant green eyes of his slumbering dragon flickered open. The black, elongated pupils narrowed and widened, dilating with curiosity and interest.
Sean tensed, focusing on the unexpected awakening of his inner beast. He controlled the urge to shift and then studied the other occupants of the bar. Who—or what—had roused the dragon from its slumber?
His gaze settled on the exceptionally attractive woman at the bar—the one the thugs were still drooling over as they kept up their running commentary of what they’d like to do to her.
Their shallow imaginations leaned more toward control and force than pleasure. The urge to show them exactly how control and force felt grew stronger by the minute.
Yeah, it was definitely time to go home before he did something that would terrify the humans of this world.
Curious about the woman, and his dragon’s rapt fascination with her, he rose from his seat at the booth and grabbed his empty beer bottle from the table. Seemed the perfect time to get another one.
Crossing the uneven floor of the seedy neighborhood bar, Sean knew he was ready to pay whatever price his brother demanded. In an effort not to draw unwanted attention from his family, he’d avoided touching his bank account. Now, he was tired of drifting, tired of picking up one meaningless job after another just to eat and beyond tired of trying to act normal among humans who would never understand or accept what he’d become.
Sean leaned over the empty stool next to the woman, put the bottle on the worn bar top and nodded when the bartender reached to pull a fresh longneck from the cooler.
Intentionally turning to face the woman, Sean breathed in deeply. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but instead of some floral or botanical perfume, her scent was enticing—like exotic spices and promises. Lusty promises that curled around him, twisting, swirling, drawing him ever closer.
He leaned in until his lips were mere inches from her cheek. When she turned her head to look at him, her scent grew stronger, filling his mind and his blood with the need to possess her. He wanted to taste her deep red, full lips, run his fingers through those auburn-and coppery-colored waves curling halfway down her back and get lost in the warmth of her brandy-hued eyes.
When she didn’t lean away from him, he motioned for the bartender to refill her drink then tossed the money for the beer and her drink on the bar.
“Thank you.”
Her low, throaty whisper raced warm and enticing across his face, leaving him almost trembling with lust. The dragon’s rumble of desire deepened to a guttural roar, demanding he claim this woman as his own.
Surprised by both his and the beast’s intense responses, he was certain this was no mortal woman. He freed his senses and brushed his mind briefly across hers.
Instead of discovering nothing of interest, a rush of familiarity, of like meeting like, confirmed his assumption—she was another preternatural. His knowledge about others of his kind was limited, gained from the few details his family had provided and from stories told by a vampire he’d run across a couple of months ago. It didn’t require an abundance of knowledge to know from the instant, sensual heat of her returned touch and the seductive half smile playing across her mouth, that she was a succubus looking for much more than just another drink.
Her sense of desperation swept over him. She wasn’t seeking just a quick night of pleasure. Sharp, painful pangs of hunger gnawed at his gut—she needed to feed from someone strong enough to withstand the draining she would unleash on them.
More than able to satisfy her craving, Sean smiled back at her. She could feed on his life force for days without draining him.
Before he could understand exactly what was happening, or offer protest, Sean’s beast gently blew an invisible puff of fire and smoke in her direction, marking the woman as his.
Didn’t the dragon understand that the two of them were one being? The beast couldn’t claim a mate without committing Sean to the same person. He resisted the urge to gasp at the implication. Of course the beast knew exactly what it had done.
Sometimes Sean wished he’d have paid more attention to what his brother had tried to teach him. Even though he didn’t possess the ability to materialize elsewhere or slide into another person’s dreams like his brothers did, he was able to shift and to communicate telepathically. While it made him more like them, more of a Drake perhaps, he still didn’t understand his beast the way his brothers did theirs.
Why had his beast chosen this moment to mark a woman when it had never considered doing so before? Was it because he’d recently been thinking about returning to Dragon’s Lair and his family?
And why this woman? Sean held back a chuckle. The answer to this question was obvious. He wanted this beguiling temptress with every fiber of his being.
She said nothing, but the slightest widening of her eyes let him know she’d felt the mental brand.
He pushed the drink he’d bought closer to her then grabbed the beer, deepened his smile and nodded before returning to the booth without saying a word.
Caitlin watched him leave. A less-perceptive woman might have been deflated by his nonverbal response, interpreting it as a dismissal. However, she knew better. He may not have spoken words, but his brief touch across her thoughts had felt like a warm, possessive caress against her cheek. His inner beast had marked her, meaning this was no mere mortal man. Whatever nonhuman traits he possessed were apparently from the animal kingdom. But his mental touch hadn’t permitted her entry into his mind to tell her which one.
However it didn’t require any degree of perception to notice that he hadn’t simply walked away—he’d sauntered, swaggered—as if confident of her interest and daring her to follow him.
Caitlin curled her fingers around the glass he’d pushed toward her. The imprint left by his touch was still warm under hers. Beneath the warmth churned a hunger as deep as her own. She shivered with anticipation, knowing her bed wouldn’t be cold or lonely tonight.
Of more importance had been the feeling that his interest in her was purely physical—an interest that she welcomed with relief. Because of a vow to her mother, she hadn’t fed in over a month, and now blood flowed through her veins like a thick, slow-moving sludge. The lethargy weighing her down was nearly unbearable; she needed something—someone—to refill her life force.
The fastest, easiest way to gain the life-giving power she needed to survive was to simply suck the force from another being. However, that required her to know when to stop before completely draining the donor, and right now her hunger would make that nearly impossible.
But the most pleasurable way to obtain what she needed, the fairest way for the other participant and the longest-lasting method was through hot, intense sex. Finding a willing partner wasn’t a problem, since as a succubus, men and women were always drawn to her whether she summoned the attraction or not. Unfortunately, most humans didn’t possess enough life force, or the driving need—a near-insatiable hunger—to survive mating with her.
Hence the reason for promising her mother that she’d refrain from feeding on them—again. Since this man wasn’t human, he stood a better chance of living through the event.
The old cliché “killing two birds with one stone” came to mind. She would still be honoring her parents’ request by not seeking out a human, and by morning she might gain enough life force to last weeks.
She raised the glass to her lips and then paused before putting the drink back on the bar without taking a sip. Already weak and slow, Caitlin knew the booze would only make her feel worse. She’d come in here as a last resort, looking for a donor, not to get drunk.
Now that she’d found what she wanted—what she so desperately needed—it was time to go. Not for one second did she worry about him finding her. She’d strategically leave enough of her scent lingering in the air that he’d find the way to her home with ease.
* * *
“Aren’t you a hot little thing?”
Hot? Always. Little? Caitlin resisted rolling her eyes at that description. She hadn’t been a little thing since she’d hit just under six foot tall at age twelve.
A yellowish glare from the streetlight at the end of the alley danced in the droplets of sleet rolling down the thug’s drawn blade. She forgot about his comment and took another step back from the two men stalking her, luring them farther into the dark alley.
They’d been in the booth behind the changeling at the bar. She’d heard their crude comments when she’d entered, felt them watching her when she’d left the bar, and she’d seen their reflections in the smoked-glass window as they followed her out. She’d expected him to follow her, but these two were another story.
With a quick touch of her mind to the humans, she discovered that while their goal also included sex, it wasn’t the passionate kind they wanted. She quirked an eyebrow at their stupidity and kept walking backward.
They had corralled her into the alley a block away from the bar where no one would see them—mistakenly thinking she was an easy target. She might be drained, but her tired muscles and slow reactions would still be more than enough to handle these two.
One man swung a knife at her, laughing as she jumped back from what he thought was a lethal blade.
“Yeah. Come on, cut her, cut her.” The smaller of the two men squealed like a child. From the glassiness of his eyes, the lack of meat on his bones and the jerkiness of his movements, he was obviously juiced on something more than beer.
The changeling with a body even she would die for approached frowning, but said nothing to stop the other two men. He hung back. A quizzical expression drew his brows together as if he was waiting for something.
“Do you want my help?” She jerked slightly at the intrusion of his silent query.
“No.” Caitlin scoffed at his offer, adding, “You know damn well that help with these two isn’t what I want from you.”
Once again he gave her a smile full of promises and passion.
She drew her full attention to the thug with the blade, and because the question was usually expected in these situations, she asked, “What do you want?”
Knife man smiled. “Why, darlin’, we want you.”
Of course he did. Everyone wanted her whether the desire was mutual or not. Caitlin shrugged out of her unzipped jacket, letting the buttery-soft black leather hit the wet pavement. “Oh, big boy, all you had to do was ask.”
Her unexpected, brazen comment stopped them in their tracks. Only the twitching drughead seemed upset by the sudden turn of events. But his most dangerous response was to twitch faster.
Needing just a drop of energy before taking on these two humans, she reached out with her mind and touched the junkie, recoiling instantly from the contamination and disease he carried deep in his soul. No way in hell would she place a finger on him and risk poisoning herself needlessly.
She focused on the knife wielder. He possessed a vile darkness that wouldn’t kill her, but it would eventually make her physically ill. From their encounter in the bar, she knew the changeling would give her the opportunity to heal herself long before she became sick.
The blade sliced through her silky tank top and across her rib cage as the thug closed his hand boldly around her left breast. “Teasing will get you killed.”
Caitlin didn’t flinch at the knife tip’s burn. The lost blood would soon be replenished, and the cut would heal momentarily. And while his hold on her body irritated her, it didn’t hurt.
But he’d ruined her favorite top. That was completely unacceptable.
She tilted her head and smiled before placing the palm of her hand against his cheek. “Teasing?”
The knife fell from his hand, his pupils dilated and he moaned raggedly with a sudden, unexpected flare of lust. Humans were just so damn easy. She threaded her fingers through his dark, greasy hair. Resisting the urge to shiver with disgust, she cupped the back of his head and drew him closer, whispering, “I would never tease about anything as important as a new top.”
When their lips nearly met, she exhaled softly, filling him with mindless desire and near-excruciating need.
His eyelids fluttered closed—he was hers to do with as she willed. Caitlin tightened her hold and inhaled almost every last ounce of his life-giving force until he whimpered like a little girl.
“Enough.”
The preternatural’s one-word command shocked her into releasing her grip on the human. She let him drop to the pavement like a rock. Nobody outside her parents, or the royal circle of elders, gave her orders. Who did he think he was?
The junkie stared down at his buddy in open-mouthed shock. Jerking his head and shoulders, he screamed, “What? What the hell did you do?”
Mr. To Die For popped the little guy on the jaw and dropped him with one hit.
Caitlin staggered, gasping in confusion and worry at her sudden inability to function, or focus. She’d known she would be ill from sucking the life out of the thug. But not this quickly, never this fast. This wasn’t normal. Something was wrong. Her heart thudded fast and hard inside her chest. What was happening to her? What was so different this time around?
She stumbled and then bounced off the garbage Dumpster. Just great. Her parents would be so pissed off if she went and got herself killed now.
“Come here.” The male she’d wanted pulled her against him right before she collapsed into a puddle. Cupping her chin, he tipped her head up and brought his lips close to hers. “Eat. Drink. Whatever it is you do.”
She weakly slung an arm around his neck. “How romantic.”
“Yeah, that’s me, Mr. Romance at your service. Shut up and feed.”
“Not a vampire.” Her words sounded disjointed to her ears.
“No shit.”
Caitlin’s stomach cramped; her legs shook. Had he not been holding her so securely, she wouldn’t have remained on her feet for much longer.
When her arm slipped from around his neck to dangle uselessly, she knew there’d be no way she’d be able to exhale anything from him. Hoping his intent was truly to help her, she whispered, “Kiss me.”
The first touch of his lips against hers sent a lightning-charged zing of energy clear to her toes. She sighed with the most exquisite longing, forgetting even to draw in his energy as she reveled in the utter completeness of the moment for a split second before darkness overtook her.
* * *
Caitlin’s first awareness was the feel of cool, satiny-smooth sheets against her flesh. Her second was that she felt more alive than she had in months. She opened her eyes and gazed into the grassy-green depths of the eyes staring back at her.
“Morning, Red.”
Normally, that clichéd endearment would send her ire skyrocketing, but his voice was so deep, his overused, outdated greeting so easy and familiar that for the first time in her life, she felt her face flush with embarrassment. His one-sided smile—a seductive, knowing smirk—only lent more heat to her cheeks.
Confused by her odd reaction, she asked, “Where am I?”
“According to your directions, you’re home. If not, then we’ve invaded someone else’s privacy for the past three days.”
Three days!
She sat up quickly, glancing around to make certain she truly was home. The deep forest green of the walls were adorned not with any feminine ornamentation, but with only the tools of her trade—a centuries-old broad sword and a pair of even more ancient crossed daggers—mounted near the door let her know they were indeed in her bedroom. No other woman would have decorated their bedroom in such a manner. Satisfied with her location, she held the sheet tightly to her neck. “Three days? What have I been doing?”
“If you don’t know, then I haven’t given it my all.” He sighed then chuckled softly and drew a fingertip down her spine. “Feeding.”
For three days? And she couldn’t remember any of it? She was in bed with a man who possessed the chiseled body and face of a Greek god and she couldn’t remember the feel of his body on, or in, hers? Either she’d lost her mind, or he was some type of preternatural she’d never met before.
She closed her eyes tightly, trying desperately to remember. Then slowly, bit by bit, the fog started to clear, permitting snippets of their time together to trickle into her mind.
They’d met in a bar and had been attracted to each other from the beginning.
His inner animal—the part that made him preternatural—had marked her. She wasn’t certain why it had done so, only that for some reason it had chosen her. More importantly, she hadn’t turned him away.
Images of the thugs in the alley floated through her mind. When she’d become sick immediately after draining the one attacker, this man, the one now in her bed, had been there to catch her before she fell to the wet pavement. He’d given her energy—his own life force, without question.
A shiver of lust raced down her spine as more, broken bits of memories poured forth. Not quite visual memories, but more like remembered feelings. The warmth of his mind-robbing kiss as his tongue had swept across hers. And the certainty of his touch when he’d stroked and caressed her to a fevered pitch that left her gasping for air and wanting so much more.
All of this was so foreign to her, so strange. She’d never let a man into her bedroom. She’d never been so swept away by a kiss that she’d lost the ability to think. She’d never met a man who could willingly fill her life force and live.
Never before had she desired, longed for, lusted after a man who possessed an inner strength that was on a level she couldn’t quite understand, and while it excited her, it also frightened her.
Though she could remember the feel of his touch, the taste of his kiss, she couldn’t pull his name from her memories. It was an odd time to ask, but she wanted to know.
Caitlin took a breath, looked at him and asked, “Who are you?”
He tugged on the sheet, dragging it down to her waist, and sat up far enough to slide his tongue along the curve of her breast. “Ladies first.”
She shivered. How many times had he done that the last few days? Caitlin swallowed her moan. Had she enjoyed it as much as she did now? “Caitlin St. George.”
The man froze, his eyes widening for a split second before he moved away from her. His smile faded into a deep, menacing laugh, wiping away her desire to lean in to his caress.
Fear slid in behind her lingering passion, pushing it away, flowing over the warmth to bury it with a cold, foreboding chill. Maybe she should have asked what he was, instead of who.
Before she could part her lips to voice her question, he shifted into the form of a smoky dragon and was gone.
