Rogue Dragon (5 page)

He would also have to do something about that crazy bastard Drago. That fool would only send someone else after her if he didn’t produce proof he’d killed her soon. He sighed and dark smoke wove past his lips. Contrary to what the gargoyle thought, he didn’t work for Drago because he had to. It was his way on keeping an eye on the crazy son of a bitch. That dragon was a tyrant waiting to happen. Hell, another beast would have taken him out a long time ago had it not been for the fact he was Manx the Supreme’s nephew. That dragon had been a just ruler and hopes that Drago would follow his uncle’s example were swirling down the drain quickly.

A few battles he’d witnessed between Drago and his challengers left a bad taste in his mouth. The bastard cheated, he wasn’t sure how though. It didn’t matter anyway. Without the Y Ddraig Goch jewels and proof that he actually had them, no dragon could earn the title as supreme. At the moment, his people lacked direction and if they were ever to reunite, they needed a Supreme ruler.

He pushed open his bedroom door. A sliver of light cut the darkness and crossed the bed. Kirill folded his arms and stared at the small bump dangerously close to the edge of the mattress. She mumbled something and flipped over onto her belly, bunching the covers around her. He stalked into the room and pushed the door shut with his foot. Grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, he pulled it over his head and threw it toward a corner. He slid his thumb into the waist band of his pajama bottoms then pulled his hand away and gripped the covers instead, pulling them back.

Sliding under the bed clothes, he turned to face the woman that held his fate in her hands. He pushed the hair away from her face. Her eyes moved beneath her lids and he wondered what she dreamed about. Synda rubbed her cheek against his palm and eased up next to him, burrowing into his side. Her arms slipped around his chest and she nestled her chin into the nook his arm created. He sighed as sleep brought on the darkness.

Chapter Five

Synda hugged the pillow to her body and buried her face into the soft cotton. A source of heat warmed her backside. Someone really needed to turn off the space heater. She kicked her legs free of the heavy duvet and tried to roll over. The weight of a hand traveled the short distance from her waist to hip. She did a quick wiggle and blunt fingertips dug into her skin. She opened her eyes, didn’t recognize the room. The dark wood and rough stone walls told her she wasn’t in her open, airy condo. She quelled the panic rising from her queasy stomach.

She lifted her head, staring at the stone. Where the hell were the windows? The hand slid from her side down to her ass as she shifted to lie on her belly. Slowly she turned her head and brought her arms up under her, keeping her palms flat to the mattress. She met Kirril’s bright blue gaze.

The sheets dipping perilously low on his hips. Synda blinked several times taking in his smooth chest and ripped…she counted…eight pack? Seriously, how was that even humanly possible? Breaking eye contact, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. She had to be dreaming. Synda opened her eyes and he smiled. A day’s beard growth covered his chin and her nipples pearled into hard nubs against the soft bed coverings. Different ideas ran from through her mind and memories of the previous evening came rushing back to her.

Synda swallowed. “So Kiril, right? Umm, where are my clothes.” She spoke low and enunciated her words.

“Why are you whispering? We are the only ones here and I tossed your clothes into the fire. They were ruined.” He moved, rising up on one elbow.

“You threw my things into a fire.” Synda’s voice squeaked on the last word.

“They were unwearable.” He traced a finger along the curve of her shoulder.

“Okay.”
Remember what Daddy said. Be calm. Dragons could be emotional. Just out think the bastard.
She cleared her throat. “What am I supposed to wear now?”

A slight smirk lifted his lips. “You don’t really need any clothing, and I’m sure I can provide you with anything else you think you might want.”

Synda thought hard, they couldn’t have done anything. She’d been cold, not drunk, and liquor never affected her to the point she forgot things. No, she’d definitely remember playing with Kirill all night.

She matched his smile. “Why are you beasts so arrogant?”

“Thousands of years of superiority?” He shrugged.

“Urgh.” She pushed up, snatching the sheet to wrap around herself.

Swinging her legs off the bed, she placed her feet flat on the floor and shivered when the chilly air traveled up her legs. Finally, she could study her surroundings. At the far end of the bedroom, a large fireplace cut into the rock wall, big enough for her to walk into standing up. Ashes coated its bottom and soot covered the walls. Dying embers glowed orange against the dark hearth.

Sconces dotted the walls every few feet. A few were lit and candlelight danced behind the glass shades. On the other side of the room were logs, huge with smooth trunks locked together by weight and time. Two massive chairs, upholstered in leather, flanked the fireplace and a thick fur rug lay between the heavy furniture pieces. A trunk served as a coffee table, rounding out the rustic setting. The only art in the room hung above the mantel. It was an embroidered coat of arms depicting two dragons, one black the other white, locked in battle or lovemaking. Their arms raised toward each other and their tales intertwined. In the background, the sun was eclipsed by the moon and strange words she’d never seen completed the picture at the bottom.

He wrapped an arm around her and she felt the heat from his body caress her back. Kirill pressed his lips to her neck before whispering in her ear. “
Kog daa
f syaw
gee bel plaam ya oo tse lyeats
.”

She leaned forward glancing over her shoulder. A lock of his black hair brushed her chin. “Is that what the picture says? What does that mean?”

Kirill straightened. “When everything dies. Fire survives.”

Synda swallowed. “You do realize I will fight you. I can’t be mated.”

“If you’re trying to lull me into a false sense of well-being, you’re failing miserably.”

“I’m being honest. First chance I get, I will run or kill you. Whichever is easier.”

“If no one has managed to kill me this long,
slaa dast
, I don’t think I have to be too worried about you succeeding. As for mating, well, a challenge is expected.” He maneuvered his body and sat next to her on the mattress. “Tell me something.”

Synda pushed the dense tresses of her hair behind her ear. “Fair enough. Okay, one question before I find a way to slit your throat.”

His bark of laughter made her jump.

“Well? Isn’t that protocol? A male dragon must make his mate submit to him, establish his dominance. ” She tilted her head.

“It would be if you were dragon. Which brings me to ask—What are you?”

She sputtered. Unsure if she should be offended or take the opportunity to talk her way out of the predicament she was in. He was too sexy to cut. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. The only dragon males she ever spent any time with were friends of her father’s, old men. She’d never dealt with a virile male dragon in his prime. Hell, she was a cop trained to negotiate with people. Now was the time to utilize that training. She rose and walked toward a chair to put some space between them.

“I’m human, which is why I can’t understand why you would take me.”

He slid off the bed, and for the first time she noticed the pajama bottoms he wore. Dark plaid hanging low on his hips. God but the man was a walking billboard for men’s nightwear. His steps were hushed on the granite tiles.

Kirill shook his head. “There might be some human in you but I believe you are so much more than that. Try again.”

She put the furniture between them. “I think you got me confused with someone else. Perhaps you should go back to the parking lot and look again.”

“You know too much about my kind and probably about other paranormal beings. Someone has taken the time to educate you.”

Synda sighed. “You aren’t going to let me go are you?”

“You see this.” He pointed to the markings on his side. They traveled up from his elbow to his shoulder, and down his side to his hip.

“Yeah, that is some sweet ink. I have a few but I thought dragons couldn’t get tatted. The ink can’t penetrate your scales.” She studied the design. It was eerily similar to the markings her father had on his biceps. But his tattoo was nowhere as large or intricate.

“It’s a mark of a different nature. It’s a mate’s mark and only my
mahtyeh
,
you
, can make the ache of it etching my skin stop.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“We bond. Body, heart and soul.” He stopped on the other side of the furniture grouping. “If we start now, things would go so much easier.”

“For who? Bite me.”

“I plan to, and so much more. When I’m done you’ll whimper for more.”

Cream flowed over the folds of her pussy at the image his words created. She could not give in. Once she mated, she’d be lost to her father and Manx’s words rung in her head.
Never let a dragon take you
. She stared at the stranger, Kirill, who acted more like a gentle man than a captor. Her heartbeat sped up in her chest and she let the sheet drop to pool around her feet. Since she’d have to fight, she couldn’t afford to get tangled in the fabric. Briefly, his eyes dropped to her breasts before rising to meet her gaze again.

“You want me dragon? Take me if you can.”

* * * *

Kirill pushed off the heavy wooden chair he’d been leaning on and sent it toppling over as he reached for her. She evaded his hands, grabbed his wrists and walked up his body using his chest as her rebound board. Releasing his arms, she flipped backward. Synda landed on the coffee table, dove off the other end and rolled when she hit the floor. He watched, astounded, sure his eyebrows rose high on his forehead. He’d only seen such agility from she-dragons in the sky and still it had been a while since he’d witnessed such acrobatics. The sound of Synda’s feet slapping on the floor echoed through the room as she ran for the door. Jumping off from where he stood, he unfurled his wings. He glided through the air and landed before the bedroom door. She slammed into his body and he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet.

“Whoever taught you our ways should be commended.” His accent was thickening with every word.

“I’ll let him know you approve of my education.” She huffed. “But you ain’t seen nothing yet.” She reared her head back and thrust it forward to slam her forehead into the bridge of his nose.

Pain exploded between his eyes and his vision doubled. They both went down as she struggled to get free of his loosened grip. She kicked at his hands and crab-walked back. Kirill dropped to his knees and grabbed his head. He blinked several times to stop her image from swimming. The screech of hinges told him she’d been able to get the door open. A cool draft curled around his ankles. He staggered toward the opening, his hand pressed against his temple, and waited for the pounding in his head to become a dull throb.

He grabbed the doorjamb. The scent of jasmine wafted back to him and he licked his lips. The flavor of her essence burst on his tongue. The hunt was on. Slowly he made his way down the hall. She might have slipped into one of the bedrooms, but he’d check the foyer and public areas first. He climbed the stairs and walked into the great room. Watery light shone into the room and dust motes danced on the air in the weak beams. A crash caught his attention and he turned on his heel toward the kitchen.

Timur stood in the middle of the hallway, caught mid-walk, probably heading for a snack. A horrid parody of what he actually looked like. Kirill laughed and tapped his arm. He leaned on his old buddy. Even though Timur was currently solid granite, he could hear and see everything happening around him.

“How many times have I told you to move to the lower floors when it’s close to sunrise? You’ll figure it out one day. You laughed last night but this woman…brother, she makes my heart pound. She may not have been born a dragon but she carries herself like one.” Another crash and Kirill looked down the long hall. “Anyway, see you tonight. Or maybe not.” Kirill tapped the statue in the center of the forehead and ambled toward the kitchen.

At the mouth of the room he glanced around. Silverware and cutlery, along with pots and pans, littered the floor. Just beyond the preparation table, she stood trying to jimmy the lock on the iron gate that led to the rear exit of his lair.

“Do you really want to go out into the cold and snow with nothing on but a thin pair of panties?” He called out.

She didn’t acknowledge him and simply continued to work on the door. He moved into the kitchen and toed the utensils out of the way, which sent the tools sliding across the hardwood floor. Kirill grabbed her biceps and Synda dropped whatever she had in her hand. Wrapping her fingers around the steel frame of the door, she slid to the side and yanked it open. The edge slammed him in his chest and across his face. She jerked her arm free and ran into the dark tunnel.