Dragon's Promise. Denise Lynn
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.
Dragon’s Lair, Drakes’ Resort in East Tennessee—today
“Sean, we have a problem.”
Without taking his attention away from the lines of coding on his monitor, Sean reached out to absently hit the button on the intercom. “What now?”
“The