Dragon's Promise. Denise Lynn
out of the private office in his suite.
Sean reminded himself to be patient. Harold was doing the best he could. The security tech had called in sick this morning, and he didn’t have time to sit and watch the monitors himself.
The rest of the family had left for the family’s medieval stronghold on Mirabilus Isle a few days ago, and he wasn’t about to call either of his brothers, or his aunt, home for something this minor. Not when this was the first time since his return they’d left him in complete charge of the Lair.
So when Harold, the family’s right-hand man, sometimes chauffeur, mechanic and occasional handyman, had volunteered to watch the cameras, Sean had accepted his help.
Of course, today was the day when everything that could go wrong, did. Now, for the third time this morning, Sean’s new tweaks to the system were having fits.
Walking into the basement security room, Sean glanced at the half-round bank of monitors. “Which one now?”
“The lobby.” Harold rose and moved out of the inner circle.
Well, at least it wasn’t in the kitchen again. Sean sat down and swiveled the task chair back around to glance at the screen to the lobby.
The temperature bar at the bottom of the monitor was blinking red—something very hot, or on fire, was in the lobby. He knew if he turned the sound on, that the alarm would be barking in time with the blinks.
“I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.” Harold leaned over his shoulder, pointing at the check-in counter. “But it went off when she entered.”
A woman stood at the counter. Either the modified alarm system was a total bust, or it was finally doing its job correctly.
Sean tapped in another view of the counter and cursed softly.
The system was working just as it should—monitoring the temperature of the guests’ bodies and alerting the security staff to the presence of a nonhuman.
She hadn’t changed much since he’d last seen her. A little paler, with lines of distress marring her forehead, making her appear drained and weak. Shadows of worry framed her amber eyes. If anything, her apparent vulnerability made her more enticing now than before. Caitlin St. George—the magic dragon slayer—was checking in to Dragon’s Lair.
When she’d first told him her name, he had gotten the impression that she didn’t realize what her name even meant. But then, since he’d refused her entry into his thoughts, she hadn’t known who, or what, he was, so there’d been no reason for her to put two and two together.
Actually, other than her name—which could be nothing more than a strange coincidence—he’d had no reason to vanish the way he had. Granted, she was a St. George and he a Drake—the dragon slayer and the dragon—but as far as he knew, the days of killing dragons had ended centuries ago.
Yet at hearing her name, something sharp and menacing had poked at his dragon, enraging it beyond reason. So he’d done the only thing he could upon discovering he’d been sleeping with what his beast seemed to distrust—laughed at the complete irony of the situation and then vanished from her life.
What was she doing here at the Lair? Something was obviously wrong. But why would she come to him? After the way he’d deserted her so abruptly, it made no sense for her to be here.
Sean cleared the event from the system and reset the lobby’s alarm. “There you go, Harold. It’s all reset now.”
The man frowned at him and asked, “Who is she?”
He brushed by Harold, answering on his way to the elevator, “An old friend.”
“How old?”
Sean knew what Harold was asking in his roundabout way. He wanted to know if this was someone he’d met during those long, endless months his family all referred to as “Sean’s dark time.”
Knowing Harold wouldn’t like the answer and that the man wouldn’t be able to keep the information to himself, Sean hit the close button on the elevator’s panel and said, “I met her at a bar in town.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—he had met her at a bar, in a town, just not a bar in this town.
Checking his reflection in the smoke-tinted mirrored wall, he straightened his tie and raked his fingers through his hair. Why his appearance mattered was beyond him. It wasn’t as if his beast was going to let either of them remain dressed for long.
Stepping out of the elevator when it stopped a floor above, he crossed the resort’s lobby, almost missing a step as a nearly forgotten bolt of raw lust surged through him, awakening the slumbering dragon within.
He could feel the beast turn its head to stare intently at the woman. He heard the ragged chuff as it picked up her scent and recognized the mate it had hungered for, yet oddly wanted to avoid.
He rolled his neck, fighting the urge to give in to the heated desires washing through him and leaned over the counter next to Caitlin to tell the clerk, “I’ve got this one, Brandy. Give me a suite key on thirteen.” He glanced at the floor, then asked, “Do you have any bags?”
St. George was cool, collected—unlike her response at their last encounter. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even bat an eyelash. However, she stared at him, her eyes shimmering, and swallowed hard, apparently as affected by his presence as he was by hers. “My luggage is in the car. I don’t need a room, but we do need to talk.”
Sean placed the keycard back on the counter and nodded toward the row of elevator doors. “If you’ll follow me?”
She seemed hesitant, not moving until he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Red, I’d really hate to embarrass both of us right here in the lobby.”
That, too, was a lie. At this minute he didn’t care where they were, or who was around. He wanted nothing more than to shred the clothes from her body with his talons and taste every delectable inch of her naked flesh.
Beneath his touch he felt her flare of lust roar to life, only to cool just as quickly. Sean wasn’t fooled by her controlled disinterest—it was a method of self-preservation that she’d obviously learned, and perfected, during this last year.
Damn shame, actually.
She let him guide her to the elevator. Once the door slid closed behind them, he moved in, stalking her, backing her into a corner. “Welcome to Dragon’s Lair.”
She pushed against his chest. “I said we need to talk.”
Talking was the furthest thing from his mind. Sean leaned against her, his chest pressing into the softness of her breasts. He narrowed his eyes as the heat of her body drifted into his. “Talk about what?”
“You do remember what I am, don’t you?”
With a soft throaty growl, Sean nodded. “Yeah, mine.”
“Really? Your abrupt departure said the exact opposite. Trust me, I am not yours.”
Sean settled his thighs more firmly against hers and feathered his lips against her neck. “You’ll soon forget that I ever left so hastily.”
Caitlin closed her eyes at the reminder of their last encounter. It had taken days, but eventually all of her memories had flooded back and she’d remembered every second of the time they’d spent in her bed.
She hadn’t been as uninvolved as she’d first hoped. In fact, if her memories were accurate, she’d urged him on a time or three and had begged—begged!—him to stop teasing her, to end his achingly hot torment of her body more than once.
Never before had any man satisfied her so completely—and lived.
Her body seemed to hum as it, too, remembered and hungered for a command performance. She placed her hands flat on his chest, biting back a sigh at the feel of his muscles beneath her palms. “Please.”
He clasped