Not His Dragon (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Angie worked through Eoin’s damaged scales with blind focus. He didn’t chitchat like last night. His back rose with each slow, deep breath as if he were meditating.

He snorted and shifted his legs as he moved to roll on his side.

“Hey, take it easy. You’re going to make me fall.” She clung to his scales as she slid. The sharp edge sliced through her palm and she hissed with pain.

Eoin swung his head around. “Sorry.” He righted her with a nudge from his nose. “How long was I asleep?”

Blood pooled in her palm. “I don’t know, but I’ve been working on your scales for over two hours.” She was tired and hungry. “I’m actually done. There was very little damage to the scales and the rot is all plucked away.”

He lowered his wing so she could climb down easily. His gaze darted to her hand. “You’re hurt. Let’s tend to your cut.” He shifted to human form, grabbed his jeans and cradled her hand within his. “Follow me to the kitchen so I can clean the wound.”

“It’s nothing.” Her skin tingled where they made contact. She should struggle against his hold; instead she let him lead her deep into his dark castle. He hovered close enough to envelop her with his heat. No matter how she tried, her gaze kept wandering back to his naked flesh.

Hard muscles covered in inked skin. The images flowed nicely from wrist to solid shoulders, over well-defined chest, to lick-able abs, to… She yanked her gaze from his semi-erection and met his self-satisfied smirk. “Stop that.” She gave him a shove.

“Stop what?” He laughed.

“Yes, you’re my type but that doesn’t change things.” Eoin was
every
woman’s type. That ripped body came from plenty of activity and she’d bet his endurance would make his lovers weep. She shook her head. God, she’d need an ice cold bath when she returned home.

And she
would
go home. Without taking her clothes off. Or touching him. “Get dressed already, Eoin.”

“As you command.” He flourished a fancy bow and pulled on his jeans.

She turned her back to him. How long could she fight her attraction to Eoin? Would one night in his bed be such a bad idea? Most of the time she considered herself a grown woman, and accordingly a one-night stand could be fun. But she should wait until the job was done. Mixing business and pleasure had never been a good idea. She’d learned this firsthand with Ryota.

“You know,” he whispered by her ear making her jump. His strong hands grasped her upper arms from behind. “It would only be polite if you took off your clothes and let me stare in return.”

A brush of desire fluttered in her lower abdomen. She turned just enough so their gazes locked. “Too bad I’m considered rude.”

All he had to do was lean a bit closer and their lips would mesh. “Let’s clean your cut and make sure you don’t need stitches.” He kept her injured hand cupped within his as he guided her through the castle’s many hallways towards the far back of the building. He still wasn’t wearing his shirt and his shoulders rolled with each step.

“Stitches won’t be needed. I heal fast.” She’d been knifed in the gut, during one of her many attempts to run away from the foster system. The mugger had stolen her backpack and left her for dead in the alley she’d been using as her home. The next morning she’d awoken almost healed with a scab on her stomach and an ache when she walked.

“More shifter traits?” He raised an eyebrow. “Ever consider that maybe there’s more shifter in you than human?”

“My parents were both human. That would be impossible.” Unless they’d lied to her, which they wouldn’t have done. How many times had they told her she was the most important thing in their lives?

They entered a kitchen where Eoin guided her to the sink and ran cool water over the cut. On the black granite counter rested a plate filled with cut vegetables. Her stomach growled.

“Hungry?” He dried her hand and wrapped his shirt around it. “No stitches required. It’s not even bleeding anymore.” Staring at her bandaged hand, he remained quiet as if struggling with something.

“Eoin?”

His gaze rose and trapped hers. “My scales are sharp. I should have warned you.”

“I noticed the first time I worked on them. It was just an accident.”

“Sorry. Again.” The words came out stiffly like a cramp had seized his throat. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

She chuckled. “I’m used to it.” Many of her clientele slept under her care.

“You don’t understand.” He pulled out some pans, and set them on the gas stove and pointed to a stool by the counter. “Sit.”

To her surprise her ass made contact with the stool before her mind registered his order. She clenched her teeth to hold the sharp words on the tip of her tongue. He didn’t even gloat at her obedient move.

Instead, he pulled out plates of raw steak and a bowl of potato salad from the fridge.

Her gut seized. He wanted to cook for her. How would she excuse herself when she had admitted to being starved? Except that sensation plaguing her stomach wasn’t the usual nausea when faced with a male cooking her food. She observed him pouring oil in the hot pan followed by the chopped vegetables. It smelled heavenly.

He set the vegetables on low heat and he did the same to the other pan. “How do you like your steak?”

She swallowed. “Rare.”

He tossed her an appreciative look over his shoulder. “Nice choice.”

Her chest swelled at his approval. What the fuck was wrong with her? She stood and realized she hadn’t a clue where to go. Even if she found her way out of the castle, Eoin still had to drive her home. Unless she called Beth. The poor omega wouldn’t want to face an angry dragon and Angie wouldn’t place her best friend in such a situation again.

She crossed her arms and glared at his bare back. The muscles slid under his skin as he cooked. It wasn’t the smells of the food that made her mouth water. “Why don’t you explain what you think I can’t understand?”

Eoin set the steaks on the hot pan. The sound of sizzling filled the kitchen. He went to a wall filled with wine bottles.

From what she’d seen of the castle, most of the rooms appeared neglected, some of them even exposed to the elements outside. The kitchen must be special to the dragon since it was intact. ‘Clean’ would have been stretching her description, but she couldn’t complain. It would have been the pot calling the kettle black.

Eoin filled two glasses with red wine, handing her one. “I let my guard down.” He gulped his glass empty and filled it again.

He was right. She didn’t understand. “So?”

“You could have killed me.”

She choked on her wine. “What kind of person do you think I am?” Killing hadn’t crossed her mind once. Smacking the snot out of him, yes. Not manslaughter.

He stirred the vegetables and turned the steaks. “It’s not you, Angie. Don’t be insulted. It’s hard to explain.” He kept stirring, tossing the vegetables with a sauce he’d already prepared. “I don’t let my guard down like that.”

“Must mean you trust me.” She refilled her own glass and tried to hide her smile. Why the hell not have another? She’d need the liquid courage to get through dinner if this was the appetizer. What did he have planned for dessert? She coughed again. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph she couldn’t stop thinking about Eoin wearing nothing but his birthday suit. Him being half-naked while cooking didn’t help.

Speaking of which, why wasn’t she ready to toss her cookies?

He filled two plates with bite-sized food. It smelled fantastic. Either he was the best cook she’d ever met or food cooked by dragons bypassed her neurosis.

In the end, all this meant was she got a free steak dinner. High fives all around. He sat across from her at the counter, since the kitchen lacked a table.

He offered her a fork.

She took the first bite, conscious that he watched her chewing. She must look a mess covered in scale chips and filing dust with his bloody shirt wrapped around her hand. The steak melted in her mouth. “Oh my God.” She took another bite.

The smile on his face was pure pride.

Seeing Angie eat the meal he had prepared filled Eoin with a strange sense of accomplishment. It was akin to his first successful solo hunt. Except instead of feeding himself, he provided for Angie.

He leaned on his elbows and sipped from his wine glass. Angie’s presence tied him in knots and the alcohol helped loosen them. Feeding
her
in
his
kitchen sated an ancient primal urge. He took another sip so he wouldn’t roar in triumph and send her running again.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” She pointed to his plate.

“Yes.” He ate a piece of steak to ease her worries, but he enjoyed watching her too much to bother with his meal. “Did you grow up in New Port?”

“Uh-huh, in the orphanage off Willobrough Lane.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t even known the city had an orphanage. He’d have to speak with his accountant about donations.

“You didn’t know the orphanage existed, did you?” Her tone sounded more amused than insulted.

He shrugged. “I don’t involve myself with human things. They tend to scream a lot when I try.”

She laughed and the sound eased the empty isolation within his castle. When had he last shared a meal with someone?

“That can be all true, but I heard a certain rumor about a cow.”

The more she relaxed and conversed, the more he didn’t want the night to end. “I deny those rumors. That was some other sappy dragon.” He filled her half-empty wineglass.

“Hey, I’m starting to think you want me drunk.”

“If that were the case I would have broken out my collection of whiskey.” He raised his eyebrow. “Want some? Not like you have to work tomorrow.”

“How do you know I’m not open on weekends?”

“I checked your website.”

“So you can surf the web. I’m impressed. I heard the older races usually stagnate in decrepit old castles.”

“Must be the same source that told you about the calf.”

“A calf? That makes the story even sweeter.” Her plate was empty.

He switched his full plate for her empty one. “Finish eating. I’ll tell you the story.”

“But you haven’t eaten.”

“Eating in my human form is for fun. I have to hunt in dragon form to be truly fed, which is where the story begins.” He stabbed a vegetable and held it to her mouth. “You know you want it.”

She took the morsel, running her tongue over her lips. “So?”

He gave her a slow blink.

“The calf?”

“I was flying over the mountains behind my castle, hunting for dinner, when I spotted a speck of black and white curled on a cliff. I hovered next to the area and the spot uncurled.” How had this story reached her ears? This happened way before Angie had been born. “The calf had fallen off the cliff and landed on the ledge. A late spring snowstorm had hit the night before so the farmer couldn’t search for the babe.” The little creature hadn’t feared him. It was too young to recognize a dragon. The calf had cried out to him for help in the universal language of animals. “I carried it back home to the farmer, who did a lot of that screaming I mentioned, before realizing I was there to return his calf, not eat his family.”

She went quiet in the way that pushed on his skin. She had a few more bites. “Why did you save it?”

He shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been a mouthful.” Babies were taboo to eat. Not everyone thought like dragons. Even humans, with all their morals, ate them.

Setting her fork on the second empty plate, she leaned back and patted her stomach. “That was a really good meal. Thank you, Eoin.”

He sat taller on his stool. He would’ve thumped his chest in triumph if he thought she’d understand. The urge to ask her to spend the night almost loosened his tongue before he locked it down. He’d made a promise. No seduction. For tonight. “Ready to go home?” Before he did things he’d regret.

Her smile fell. “Sure.”

The drive back to her apartment was filled with quiet promises as she leaned against his back, her breasts pressed on either side of his spine, and her thighs squeezing his hips almost daring him to change his mind.

He took the scenic route, prolonging the ride as long as he could. The night couldn’t last forever, though, and he parked in front of her building, then walked her to the door.

She faced him, eyelids heavy. “Thank you for dinner.” She leaned against the entrance.

He followed, caging her head between his arms. “You’re welcome.” A kiss wouldn’t break his word, right? It would seal his interest in her and make his intentions utterly clear. Angie was tall enough to kiss without cramping his lower back. He normally liked females with long hair but her pixie cut allowed him to admire her fine bone structure.

She unwrapped his shirt from her hand and offered it to him then held up her palm. “See? Almost healed.”

He stared at the starting-to-scar wound. “Impossible, even for a half-breed.” He grabbed her wrist and poked at the injury. He’d seen it with his own eyes. The cut had been deep.