Dragon's Promise. Denise Lynn
“Darlin’,” he drawled in his best tough-man voice, “I think we both know full well that you can’t hurt me.”
When she still hesitated, Sean reached up to thread his fingers through her hair. He cupped the back of her head, and she shivered at the tingles running across her scalp.
His bright green gaze held hers, and she swore she could see the dragon within coaxing her closer as the man pulled her down. Memories of their last time together filled her mind, heated her blood and gave her the oddest sense of belonging. Coming here had been the right thing to do.
When their lips barely touched, he challenged, “I dare you to try draining me.”
How could she possibly resist such an offer?
Sean knew Caitlin would be unable to resist his challenge. He relaxed beneath her as she hungrily kissed him, inhaling as much of his energy as she could.
Knowing that a kiss, a drawing in of his breath, would never be enough for her to gain full strength, he slid his hands down the smoothness of her back, chasing the rising goose bumps with his fingertips, and grasped her hips to lift her.
He wanted her healthy and whole—needed her to be at her very best for what was to come. It would take both of them to defeat Nathan and rescue the child. And she would need all the strength she could summon for what would come afterward.
He shifted beneath her and eased her slowly down the length of his erection. Her moan echoed his as she curled her fingers into his shoulders, her nails pressing hard into his flesh.
Sean closed his eyes, savoring what was more than just a physical union of their bodies. This intimate act was more than just a way to replenish Caitlin’s energy, or to satisfy the hunger between them.
It was a way to feed their beasts—to soothe the anger emanating from their souls. The growing heat of their bodies, the touch of their lips, transformed the hurt into a power that could very possibly keep them both alive.
Through a thick fog of desire he heard the security alarm scream from his office down the hall. His cell phone vibrated off the nightstand.
Before he could respond to either, Caitlin rolled off him with a harshly gasped curse. Her wide-eyed gaze flew to the bedroom doorway. “Mother! What are you doing here?”
Sean quickly spelled their clothing back on, swallowed hard and then rose from the bed. He stared at the uninvited, semisolid, still-forming woman walking into his bedroom. “Mrs. St. George?”
His beast twitched, backing away in the same manner it did when confronted by an angry Aunt Danielle. Sean rolled his eyes at the adolescent behavior of his dragon.
Mrs. St. George ignored him. Instead, once fully visible, she pinned Caitlin with a hard glare. “I thought we discussed you having anything to do with this...this vile animal.”
Animal? The dead wife of a vampire thought him an animal? Sean was amazed at the woman’s audacity.
“Like it or not, Mother, he is my son’s sire.”
Narrowing his eyes, Sean frowned at the term sire. He was the child’s father, not his overlord. But that was a detail he’d take up with Caitlin later. For now he chose to silently watch the byplay between the two women. He hoped it would give him a chance to catch his breath and regain some composure.
“This is how you defy the council? They gave you orders to keep your mouth shut and to stay away from this beast. Instead, you lied to us about where you were going and like some cheap whore, come running to the enemy’s bed?”
“He is not my enemy.”
Mrs. St. George flung her arm out and pointed a shaking finger at Sean. “That is a filthy beast. Your father would run him through with a sword and roast him on a spit like the pig he is, if he knew what you were doing.”
The dragon within shook off its initial apprehension at Mrs. St. George’s appearance. He focused his growing rage, intent on self-preservation, on the older woman. Never before had the desire to kill been so strong and overpowering—not even when he’d felt driven to murder his brothers. Who did this...ghost...think she was to threaten him in such a manner? Roast him on a spit? Sean clenched his fists tighter at his sides as he fought the unrelenting urge to shift into dragon form, rear up and do a little roasting of his own.
“What the hell is going on here?” Braeden materialized in the doorway, breaking the beast’s murderous focus by his unexpected appearance. Had Sean been thinking, he would have realized that Harold would eventually contact Braeden, who would then spell himself directly into the middle of the action.
While he was grateful for his brother’s timely interruption, Sean groaned at the speed Harold had obviously used in contacting his brother, instead of ordering the jet. “I’ve got this. Go back to your wife.”
His brother cocked an eyebrow at him before studying Caitlin, who was still on the bed, flushed and looking as rumpled as the sheets beneath her, and then at her mother, who had turned to face him. A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “Why, Mrs. St. George, how’s the hubby doing these days? Does his leg still bother him?”
Sean frowned in confusion. His brother drifted into his mind to fill in the missing piece. At the last meeting of the heads of the preternatural families, St. George and I had a minor...tiff. He lost.
Caitlin’s mother stiffened at Braeden’s question and raised her chin a notch. “That’s Baron St. George to you, Drake.”
Braeden leaned casually against the doorway and inspected his fingernails as if bored. “Lord Drake.”
Sean knew his brother’s nonchalant stance was nothing but an act. The deep steadiness of his voice had been a dead giveaway. He waited to see how Mrs. St. George would react to the Dragon Lord’s reminder of who held the higher rank. Regardless of the families involved, St. George was just a baron in his circle, and while titled, he still answered to others. Braeden was the High Lord in his, answering to no one.
Finally, with a look that could kill a mortal, Mrs. St. George dipped her head slightly in deference. “The baron is well, my lord.”
Braeden straightened and walked into the bedroom. “So, anyone care to explain what’s going on here? Why has Lady St. George come to the Lair?” He paused by the bed to stare down at Caitlin. “And why is the dragon slayer’s child in a dragon’s bed?”
Caitlin corrected him. “My father’s daughter is no longer a child, nor is he the dragon slayer. I am.”
Braeden arched his eyebrows at her statement. Before the situation could get completely out of control, Sean insisted once again, “I can handle this.”
Caitlin’s mother visibly shook before exclaiming, “My daughter bore that vile beast’s spawn!”
Sean cringed when he saw Braeden stiffen. This wasn’t how he had wanted his family to find out.
Without asking permission, Braeden stroked Caitlin’s cheek. His touch lingered far too long for Sean’s comfort. He might not have been born a preternatural, but he knew enough about his brother to realize Braeden was mining information whether Caitlin wanted him to or not.
Finally, after what felt like hours, but was in fact mere seconds, Braeden lowered his arm and turned to glare at Sean. It was obvious from the darkness of his eyes and the tick in his cheek that he knew everything. “Could you have been any more foolish?”
“I...” Sean trailed off at the elongating of Braeden’s pupils. Now was not the time to poke a stick at the one being that could kill him and his child’s mother in the blink of an eye.
“You do understand what this means?”
“Yes.” Of course he did.
Now.