CHAPTER 3
Cillumn Bloodbriar looked down at the woman in his arms. She had collapsed against him in a tangle of limbs, the cowl she wore wrapped around her arms and fell to cover her delicate face.
With a smooth movement, he broke the ties easily and let it fall to the floor.
The shock of auburn hair confirmed what her complexion had already hinted at. He might have spoken freely due to whatever drug ran in his system, but he hadn't been lying when he'd told her that red heads were his favorite. And this one, feisty as a cornered jungle panther. Feeling a bit perverse, he allowed his fingers to tangle with the silky strands as he adjusted her within his arms. He needed a more secure hold, he told himself, and then snorted. As if there was anyone to challenge his intents.
That thought, however, made him frown. What had happened at the Onyx Aerie? The likelihood that the others had met a similar fate, with worse results, dropped his heart into his throat. The Lady had been his responsibility. There had been four dragons on him; she would never withstand one.
For a moment, he considered sitting back down on the cot. What chance do they have...did they have, he reminded himself. If what the woman said was true, then the delegation was long since over, one way or another.
It would be easiest to fly home alone, without encumbrance, now that he was able to focus—although a good deal of that focus was now upon the feel of soft skin in his arms and the memory of fierce blue-green eyes flashing at him.* Pig-headed rock licker*. Of all the things he had ever been called...
No, he wasn't ready to be free of her yet. At the very least, she owed him her aid for allowing her pack to keep him this long. But he was drawn by her story as well, her plea.
She was Shifter and, as such, should be well out of his limits. There were far too many reasons even a temporary liaison would do neither of them good. Even associating with one another would bring censure upon both of them, and she would suffer the more for it.
But she knew such things and still she sought him out, which meant one of two things, either she was a fool, or she was desperate.
Six Shifters had gone missing, including her sister. Why wasn't the entire pack out in arms to reveal the cause? He studied the firm line of her jaw as her head lolled back, marred by a slightly darker spot near her chin, a childhood wound perhaps. She seemed mentally fit, if one could forgive the insults, and he was betting on desperate. He tried to convince himself that the only motivations he had for the bet were pure, but the swelling of his cock proved otherwise.
Her sister. Wouldn't he be so desperate to save a sister? Or any family, if he had one? His life had been spent mourning the loss of such relations, of closeness. What if he had been given such a thing, to have it taken away?
He would do anything it took to retrieve it. Even if it weren't for her beauty and spirited nature, he would aid her on that point alone.
But he had other duties that came first, the foremost of which was to discover what became of the delegation...and to report the results to the Archon.
He searched the floor of the small shelter, crude in both its construction and contents. The prone form on the floor nearly startled him into dropping his burden, so still, he wondered for a moment if the man was dead. A secondary glance proved the Shifter was, indeed, breathing. Unconscious, as he had been.
He eyed the woman once more. What manner of trouble was he tangling himself with?
Beside the man lay a satchel, close to bursting with its contents. It was out of place in the shelter, sitting alone in the center of the dirt floor. Her satchel? It seemed likely, and if it wasn't, he reasoned, this pack owed him compensation for his inconvenience. Adjusting the woman, he picked up the pack, and found himself surprised at its weight. If she hauled such things with her constantly, she was far stronger than she appeared. He slipped the carrying strap over his shoulder and did his best to position the bag so that he was balanced. Then, with his only thought set on getting home, he slipped from the tent and easily passed into the night.
No one was waiting without the tent to stop him, nor, as he progressed into the surrounding forest, did the sentries—for there must have been sentries—seem very alert. Or perhaps there simply weren't enough Shifters to fill all the positions needed. Regardless, he passed unchallenged.
It was a discussion he planned to bring up to the woman when she woke. Her people should take better care to protect their base. He shuddered to think what might have happened had a Lord from an unfriendly dragon line found them. Did they not realize that some men coveted treasures such as the woman in his arms?
He found his imagination running to what she might look like beneath her plain brown travel clothes. The resulting, violent reaction of his body had him fighting to keep his grip gentle, to keep from crushing her to him possessively. Like an animal. Six she made his blood run hot.
He was better than that, though, so he held her carefully.
First, he had to sort out the delegation, and the mystery of the missing Shifters. Then, perhaps, he could indulge himself in fantasies of things that could not be.
When Lis awoke it was warm, and dark. She registered first the long strain of discomfort along her back, and that she had to pee. She blinked and tried to straighten herself.
“Thank the Six,” a voice above her said. And then the world rocked and she was tilted upright on her own. She wobbled there for a moment, trying to blink cobwebs from her mind. There was something she should remember.
“Ha!” she yelled, when it finally hit her, leaping sideways and away from her captor. “You have stolen me!”
He stood where he had set her down, not making any move toward her, just watching her warily. Moonlight glinted off the angles of his face, highlighting his masculinity and several day's facial hair growth. The effect was rather appealing, in the sense that he looked mysterious, and entirely too masculine for her peace of mind.
“Quiet, woman, we are in the forest, and I have no indication if the Quatori are near. I am glad you awoke.”
“Where are you taking me?” she patted her dress; somehow, she had misplaced her cowl, her hair, too, had loosened from its binding. She narrowed her eyes at the Lord. Just how many liberties had he taken? “I demand you let me go.”
“We are about an hour into the forest...you are more susceptible to the command than I guessed.” He twisted his torso, dropping a heavy mass from his shoulder into his hand. Her satchel. She recognized it before it came completely to rest. He pushed it toward her, holding it out, offering it.
She snatched it from him, careful not to brush her fingers against him. It seemed she was not in complete control where her senses were concerned when it came to this man, and she had no time to factor her own strange reactions to him into her predictions of their interaction.
Frantically, she opened the lid, searching through the contents. Nothing was broken from what she could tell.
And what a disaster that could have been. She pulled out the smooth cool metal contraption and relief seeped through her as soon as her fingers brushed it. There was not enough light to check its most delicate parts, but she ran her fingers over the tube like structure, ensuring no damage had been done. Blasted Dragon Lord had no idea the risks he took.
“Take me back,” she demanded again. Maybe if she didn't look at him directly she could put the firmness in her words that she seemed to lack emotionally.
He shook his head, loose strands of hair dangled about his shoulders with the motion. He hadn't replaced his clothes since the healing tent. She shivered a little, looking at him.
From the cold, nothing else.
Darkness had brought a light misting, coupled with a breeze that rustled the forest above and the air was too cool for her skin. Perhaps, however, Dragon Lords and their high body temperatures were immune.
“No,” the Lord answered. “That would do neither of us any good. You wanted help finding your missing pack mates, then I demand help warning my people.”
“I..”
He waved a hand, cutting her off. “I do not wish to carry you farther without a way to sense enemies. But I will, should I have to.”
She frowned. Stubborn, ruthless man. Had she ever thought she could coerce him to her will? What a foolish notion that had been. Desperation, she supposed drove her actions, but far from encouraging movement forward it seemed to have cost her precious time. She pondered her choices. Not that it seemed he was giving her many.
He wasn't refusing to help her altogether, which she could have seen as positive, if his condition hadn't included placing herself in the midst of a strange Aerie, its Lords and pack. No wolf worth her own weight would do such a thing.
Yet, the alternative was to be forced to go, likely while unconscious, and therefore unable to sense the dangers until it was far too late. There was no logical route for her dilemma.
She did not trust him, nor had he given her reason to. Well, he hadn't eaten her yet, but everyone knew Dragons were driven by one thing, and one thing only...that thing worried her.
“Fine,” she said at last. After all, an enemy under surveillance was better than an enemy one was unaware of. “But you must hurry. If you delay my sister might die.” And that was a possibility she could not tolerate.
He nodded, and his posture relaxed a little. He must have suspected she would not capitulate.
“If it is speed that you seek, it will be faster if we fly. My dragon has carried passengers reliably before, but it wasn't something I could do while you were unconscious. I feared he might drop you if you woke and began screaming.”
“No,” she nearly shouted. The range of her voice pitched a little too high. “No, I am fast, we can be nearly as quick on foot if you can keep up.”
He shook his head.
Was he going to oppose her at every step? Could he not allow one simple battle?
“Running the forest in the dark is dangerous. We are not on a trail and there is too much undergrowth.”
As he spoke, something terrible happened. Her heart skipped and her throat constricted. Dark wings sprouted from his back, green with the same black swirls as on the Lord's chest. She had no time to contemplate the oddity, however. Scales rippled along his skin, his size already doubled.
Dragon.
Her mind uttered no other thought. For a moment, the world tilted precariously, and then she was running. Trunks whirled past her and branches reached out with their gnarled fingers to pull at her clothes and hair, adding to the sense that death was at her heals, ready to devour her.
She squeaked something that might have been the beginning of a scream, but it was cut off by a loud wing-beat. It was all that her body could take. Instantly, it reverted to wolf, the form that ran on instinct rather than direct thought. Her vision sharpened dramatically and her stride lengthened, though there was a moment where she tripped over the remains of her skirt. Then she was free, dashing through the trees at a pace hard to match even for such a great enemy. A long snout filled her vision and it did its part as soon as it formed. A rich cacophony of scents piled in through her nostrils, but she picked out three that pertained to her immediate situation. Water, from the great river most likely, in the distance to her right. Quatori, but it was a passing trail, days old already. And lastly, a scent that shot hope into her ravaged senses. Shifter. Not one familiar, perhaps, a lone male. But it was possible he would join her defense against the Dragon.
She dashed to the left, following her nose. The trail was a confusing mess, not direct at all, and she could not stop to sort it out. Instead, she ran the general direction he had started and hoped with all she had that she would come across him before death met her. She didn't even know how far behind her the dragon was any longer, she hadn't heard it for some time. Still, her paws carried her faster and deeper into the trees.
Until a force hit her from the side. It was a big heavy being and she twisted and thrashed, tumbling to the dirt, an involuntary yelp flying from her lips. A big hand clasped over her snout.
“Hush woman, I am a beast no more. The dragon is gone.”
She still panicked and struggled to stand, but somehow he had wrapped his legs about her forelegs and flattened them against her body. He clung to her shoulders and neck, holding her snout and containing her legs. She whimpered, her heart trying to escape from her chest, and struggled to stand again. She had to get away.
“Shhh,” the man who contained her crooned. The Dragon Lord. She twisted again and then inhaled a deep breath. Her heart slowed a fraction.
Shit. She focused her eyes on her surroundings, a little sapling stood in front of her, near enough to sniff, and she counted the branches it had managed to produce. She remembered doing such things as a child, fascinated by nature's proficiency and the strength of things so tiny that grew to become the mighty forest trees.
A soft snort drew her from her musing. Her breathing had calmed, and though her heart still pounded with the echo of fear, it, too, had slowed.
“A fear of dragons,” the Lord muttered. “Woman, you are completely mad.”
She growled at his tone. It wasn't funny. If he hadn't leapt into action, certain of his own way, she would have had time to tell him. This embarrassment was his fault. She intended to tell him, so too. she bucked a little, signaling for release.
“You are certain you will not run? It took some maneuvering to land myself in your path and change before you dashed through.”
She would have bit him if she could have reached, but her form allowed for no communication with him. So she shifted.
It was a strange process, shifting forms. Sometimes it happened quickly and without thought, such as when her fear overtook common sense. And others it required a high degree of concentration. Not a painful process, exactly, more of a stretching and rearranging, like those first movements after sitting for too long.
It was hard to concentrate with a naked man on her back; heat from his skin melted into her, stirring a strange combination of comfort and excited awareness. Fortunately, he quickly let go once he realized her intent. By the time she had finished transforming, he was up and watching her from next to a massive old trunk. His bronzed shoulder leaned against the bark, as though he'd been relaxing there all along instead of dashing miles into the forest after a wolf.
“Does your kind ever listen to reason? Ever?” she demanded as soon as she could form words.
His brows furrowed and thick, sensual lips twitched downward. Such an expressive mouth, and for some reason only the Six might comprehend, all she could think about was wiping the frown from his face...with her own lips.
“You could have got me killed,” she accused, rebelling against her ridiculous thoughts.
“You are blaming this on me?” he asked, straightening.
“Er...,” she was, but then he faced her and she got her first view of him complete, as nature had formed him; the view she had managed to avoid until then. Lean, packed muscles spoke to his strength, and explained how he could even attempt to hold her in wolf form. He was definitely fit and trained for battle, the bulge of his chest and arms told her he had no difficulty wielding the heavy black swords that Dragon Lords favored. They trickled down into tight abs that led to...lower.
Huh. The swirling marks existed all over his body.
Also, it occurred to her, that his body was reacting to hers.
“Don't look at me,” she snarled, forgetting, once again, propriety and the Shifter way of not meeting another's gaze.
A brow raised speculatively.
“You seem fond of looking at me, woman, I believe turnabout is warranted.”
Heat rose within her, partly to her face, announcing her embarrassment no matter how securely she blocked such emotions from his prying. The other part...
He stepped closer, forcing her to retreat like a weak willed pup, or to stand her ground. Anxiety jumped in her chest. She was never good at nuanced social situations, and this one was particularly dangerous. Worse, she wasn't sure what she wanted. Or rather, her body and mind seemed at odds for the moment. On the one hand, she had no business desiring a Dragon Lord at all. Nothing but misfortune ever came to those who did. On the other, had any man ever looked at her in such a way? With such open lust?
She shook her head, her hair tickling her shoulders with the action, trying to clear her thoughts.
“I like your hair like this, wild about your shoulders, as if you just experienced a night of passion beneath me.” He grinned again, but his eyes were intense, and focused on hers. A challenge.
She choked on the air she was breathing. Or maybe it was her own indignation. Of all the arrogant...
“An eventuality that will never happen,” she whispered harshly through gritted teeth. A heavy denial twisted in her stomach.
Wait....why was she arguing, or rather, defending herself, about sex? Wasn't she supposed to be scolding him?
“Why not? We are both adults, well within our capabilities of making decisions on such matters.” His tone changed, as though he was arguing not only with her, but himself. Convincing himself. “I could show you pleasure, woman, the likes of which you've never experienced.”
Yeah, well, that wouldn't be much of a contest, but she wasn't about to tell him that.
“You are a Lord,” she announced. It wasn't as if he hadn't recognized the fact, but perhaps he needed the reminder. “Our kinds do not mix.”
“A stupid custom. A grown man and woman should have the right to choose whom they bed. Without limitation. Do you not agree?”
“Customs are often developed for a reason.”
“And given your actions tonight, the fact that you awakened me, you recognize that the reason is sometimes outdated and ludicrous.” He stepped toward her, which was a problem, because the part of him that was reacting to their situation, the part she was desperately trying to ignore, pointed straight at her, as if announcing what it wished. And she couldn't help but find the notion less disturbing than she should. Heat flared through her core, a tingle that vibrated along her insides.
But such things were nothing but instinct. She would not allow herself to behave upon such stupidity. Unfortunately, the Lord didn't appear to have any such qualms. Indeed, he stared at her nudity like a man starved of water might view a newly discovered spring: desire, hope, and something else lining his features.
“Bah!” she slid behind a trunk, hiding her nakedness from view. She did not have time to play coitus games with someone she barely knew and should have no interest in mating.
“It will be a long, difficult night if you insist upon hiding.”
She dropped her forehead into her hands. She was alone and naked in the forest with a strange Dragon Lord, experiencing things that would have better been saved for any other time. Could the night get any worse?
He was right, though. She couldn't just hide behind a tree all night. Besides, it would only get worse when the sun came up and she was even more visible. She sighed to herself, fighting the stubborn urge to have her own way. It was not easy to give up one's position, to capitulate.
“I will compromise,” he called, disrupting her internal struggle. “I will not stare,” here he hesitated, as if the accommodation was costing him. “But you must come out so we can continue. If we are walking all the way to the Aerie it will be a long journey and I'm anxious to get going.”
Huh. She stood for a moment considering his offer. He had to have seen that his way was the only logical conclusion. She had to come out eventually, yet here he was offering her a peace lily. Giving her a small amount of power in a powerless situation. She frowned, not liking the budding respect and gratefulness that induced. But it was better, somehow, than giving over totally.
“Fine,” she grumped, stepping from her shelter, but finding herself unwilling to meet his eyes. A languishing sign of submission no doubt. Too bad she didn't feel such things for her own people, instead of this Lord. “I agree, we should move fast.”
Except something was missing. She felt naked, and not just because she truly was, she was missing another aspect of security. Her satchel.
“Let's go,” the Dragon Lord nodded when she burst from cover.
She shook her head. “My satchel, we left it back along the trail, we have to go back for it.”
He repeated her gesture, his head moving side to side. “Unless there is something that can turn the tides of time within your bag, you will have to forsake it. We have already spent too much time fruitlessly running the forest.”
“No...you don't understand. My life is...,” she meant to continue her argument, to explain that she would go nowhere without her satchel and it would go nowhere without her, but something changed in the air at that moment. A shift of the breeze brought a scent to her nose, one she had nearly forgotten about. The Shifter.
She dropped her hand. He was close, to catch him with her reduced senses. She searched the trees.
There, several feet away, a dark form, lurking through the shadows. He turned to her, and she could feel his eyes settle on her.
They were being hunted, and now they were caught.