Their Runaway Mate (4 page)

She sucked in a quick breath and swallowed. "Of course."

"You are lying. Why?"

She pulled away from his grasp. "I can make it. I'm not some girl trying to get your attention by pretending to be weak so you'll help me. I can make it on my own. I can take care of myself."

He tilted his head to the side and wished he could shine the light on her face again so he could figure out why she was so irritated with him. "Did I insinuate you were weak? No. But if you are injured, there is no sense in causing yourself further pain when there is no need."

She crossed her arms. He was surprised she let go of her knife long enough to do that. "I don't need your charity."

He nodded. "Okay. Let's continue, then."

They hadn't walked more than a couple of steps when she made another little moaning noise. The sound cut through him deeper than her knife ever would.

"I will not let you hurt yourself," he said as he swung around. Then, before she could extract her blade or protest, he scooped her into his arms.

She gasped in surprise, then she hit him with her fist. "Let go of me. Now."

"No," he said as he began walking again. An enemy's most sadistic torture couldn't test his resolve more than having a tempting woman in his arms, particularly when he knew he had to preserve his indifference toward her. "Your pain serves no purpose."

When she realized he wasn't going to put her down, she relaxed. "I am sorry to be such a burden," she said quietly and unexpectedly. "Thank you."

His heart warmed at the softness and vulnerability in her tone. He doubted she allowed very many people to see that side of her. "No worries."

"You can put me down when you get tired."

"I won't tire," he said. That was true, but it was also true that he was enjoying the feel of her body against his too much to even dream of setting her down before he absolutely had to.

***

No one had carried Jasmine anywhere since she was five. Even her muscular high school boyfriend had deemed her too heavy to piggyback, and she had been a lot lighter at sixteen than she was now. So for this guy to lift her and carry her a mile through the woods wasn't natural.

He had to be a dragon or some other kind of shifter.

According to the public service announcements, dragons usually traveled in groups of two or more. As far as Jasmine could tell, Kylan was alone. But what if he was just taking her to a nest of other dragons where the giant scaly creatures writhed against one another in a deep black pit. She swallowed as she casually reached for her knife, hoping he couldn't see what she was doing. Dragons were supposed to have shitty sight at night.

"Your knife isn't there." His voice was big and bold in the hush of the dark forest.

When had he disarmed her? She struggled against his steely embrace. "Where are you taking me?"

When he sighed, the warmth of his breath cascaded over her face. Was he spreading his dragon fire over her?

"Put me down." She fought him with her fists, but he didn't even grunt at her attempts to hurt him.

"And what are you going to do when I put you down?"

Her heart pounded in her chest. He was right. She was weaponless and hobbled because of her damned blisters. And he was some mythical warrior who could probably stalk her all night. She quit punching him, but she wasn't resigned to her capture yet. "What are you going to do to me?"

"You're safe with me," he said. "We're just going to the cabin, as we talked about, remember?" He spoke slowly, as if he suspected English wasn't her first language.

"Oh, don't be so condescending," she chastised him, but she had to know. Maybe if she knew what he planned, she could come up with an escape plan before they arrived at the
cabin
. If it really was a cabin. "I mean are you going to cage me? Murder me? Rape me?" She tried to be brave, but she couldn't keep her voice from shaking. "It's okay. Tell me. I can handle it."

"What kind of sick world do you live in?" His words were almost a growl. "Why would you think that?"

"Isn't that what dragons do?"

Kylan cursed, but he still didn't put her down or stop walking. "Why the hell would you volunteer to join a dragon clan if you thought that was your fate?"

Jasmine snorted. "Volunteer? Yeah, right."

Kylan tensed then. His big strong fingers tightened and dug into her flesh. "We'll talk about this at the cabin," he said.

Jasmine was strangely soothed by his attitude to her questions. If he was going to torture her, he could start tormenting her with all her worst fears right now. He had her trapped after all. Then she realized what he said… what it meant. "Wait. You know about that? You know who I am?"

He ignored her question, but he didn't have to answer it. The truth was obvious. She wanted to scream every curse word she'd ever heard. This was officially the worst day ever.

A few minutes later, the trees thinned and opened into a small clearing. The clouds and fog that had hidden her escape earlier were long gone, leaving the pale moonlight to fall on them unobstructed. A small structure, cast in charcoal gray shadows, sat nestled in the midst of the trees. No light shone from its windows.

Huh. It really was a cabin.

He hadn't lied. About that at least.

He opened the door and strode into the unlit room with her still in his arms. Then he placed her gently on a soft seat and walked away without saying anything. A moment later, lights flickered on to reveal a surprisingly cozy log cabin.

The warm golden wood was left unadorned, seemingly in celebration of its natural beauty. A Hudson's Bay wool blanket was neatly folded over the back of a worn brown leather chair by a potbellied stove. Kylan had placed Jasmine on a low and wide red corduroy sofa. There was a hominess to the room that Jasmine would never have suspected from a dragon's abode.

She twisted around and found Kylan in a small but functional kitchen that lined the far wall. He grabbed a first aid kit from the cupboard below the sink, then stood and turned to her. The glimpse she'd gotten of him in the woods had made her drool, but it hadn't done him justice.

Dark stubble accentuated his strong jaw. The thin T-shirt she'd noticed earlier molded to his sculpted chest like a second skin. Every bulging contour of his muscular torso, from his pecs to his abs, was outlined and on display as if for her pleasure. His faded jeans were creased and worn, but wrapped over his thighs and hips with tantalizing snugness.

Her face heated. She closed her eyes before her evaluation veered into perv-land and she tried to figure out just how much he was carrying
down there
. It wasn't as if she'd never seen a good-looking man before, so what the hell? How was it even possible for her to be attracted to him when she suspected he was a dragon? She'd never felt such an instant attraction to anyone in her life. She should be running at him with a fire poker, not fighting the urge to go over and fondle him.

How long did it take for Stockholm syndrome to start?

She frowned. Probably not this fast.

When she opened her eyes again, she found that he hadn't moved. Instead he was watching her. Her body responded to his attention as though he was caressing her. Oh. This was bad. Very, very bad.

His gaze caught on hers. She was surprised to discover his eyes weren't black, like they'd seemed in the darkness, but blue. A sexy, beautiful sapphire blue.

He crossed the room in a few steps and sat beside her on the sofa. The air around him seemed to shimmer and shift as he moved, as if it too was excited to swirl over his body as it moved. Her heart rate sprinted again, only this time it wasn't from fear.

"Here is a first aid kit," he said. "It's a few years old, probably left here by the previous owners."

"Why do I need that?"

He raised his eyebrows. "For your feet?"

"Oh, right." She nodded. God, he was frying her brain cells. She would forget her own secret recipe for mouth-watering cinnamon buns if she stayed in his presence too long.

"May I?" He gestured to her foot as though asking permission to touch it. She shivered, imagining those strong fingers against her bare ankle. His heat and his touch were already embedded on her after he'd carried her so far through the woods. The last thing she needed was for him to touch her again.

Really.

She needed to remember that.

"I can do it," she said and grabbed the kit from him. She shooed him away and didn't start to undo the laces on her sneaker until he was seated in the chair across from her.

They didn't speak while she pulled off her shoe. When she peeled off her sock, it caught on the broken, oozing blister. She winced and cursed as she tugged the bloody garment free.

He surged forward. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine." She blinked away the tears in her eyes. Stupid cheap shoes. How had she forgotten that these were her crappy shoes when she'd packed her getaway bag?

He started a small fire in the wood stove, then settled back in his seat and tapped the armrest. The warmth radiating from the fire enveloped her. It comforted her more than it should have. She removed her jacket and set it beside her.

She ignored him as she cleaned the area with rubbing alcohol, then put a bandage over it. Then she did the same with her other foot.

"Why would you wear shoes that hurt you?" he said when she had finished and begun returning the supplies to the first aid kit.

"Besides sandals, they are the only shoes I have. Now, at least."

"I don't understand."

She dropped the kit on the floor beside the sofa and scowled at him. "You're a dragon, right?"

He nodded slowly. The look on his face suggested he was fully aware that she might not like having that confirmed. "I am Kylan, chief of the Mannix clan. We are the enforcers."

"It figures this would happen. All of my luck is bad," Jasmine muttered to herself as she crossed her arms.

"Why is it bad luck to be here? You are Jasmine Gordon, the first volunteer, correct?"

"No." Anger bubbled through her. She stood and pointed at Kylan. "I am not the first volunteer." She hobbled closer to him, waggling her finger at the sexy creature. Why was she even arguing with him? She should be trying to escape. But she couldn't help it. "My neighbors elected to send me to you beasts. There was nothing voluntary about any of it."

He listened to her outburst, then shook his head slowly. "No. That isn't how it was supposed to be done."

"Don't you dare call me a liar. Not after the day I've had." She poked his chest. It didn't even indent the hard muscle. His beautiful eyes blazed blue, then faded back to normal. If she hadn't been bending over him to force her finger into his chest, she might have missed it.

His body was massive this close. She didn't feel intimidated by him, but she knew she should. She really should. He could break every bone in her body in less than a minute if he wanted to, but the heated way his eyes were focused on her lips made her want to draw closer instead of pull away to protect herself.

Chapter 5

"T
ell me what happened." Kylan's voice was calm and quiet as he warred with an overwhelming desire to claim the fiery woman in front of him. He was typically attracted to women with milder personalities, but this woman piqued his interest stronger and faster than any woman had in a long time.

She stood over him now with her chest heaving and fire in her eyes, and for a moment all he could think about was how tempted he was to kiss her plump red lips. Her cheeks were flushed and he wondered if a blush of passion would deepen the color. The clothing she wore fit neatly over her luscious curves, leading him to speculate about what she would look like naked on his bed.

The only thing that kept him from reaching forward and pulling her into his arms was the need to know what had happened to her.

An election was not part of the plan. It had never been discussed, debated or considered. The women who came to the clans needed to want to be there, otherwise this was just another form of abduction. Even if both governments sanctioned such a process, it wouldn't be sustainable.

He'd found long ago that staying calm while others blustered was the easiest and fastest way to dissipate their anger. Jasmine was, thankfully, no different. She raised her eyebrows at his request, but seemed to accept that he wanted to hear her story. She pulled her hand away from him, and he longed to reach for it and bring it back. Luckily, she stepped away from him before he gave in to the urge.

Her curvy form swayed enticingly as she paced in front of him. She pushed her trembling hand through her long auburn tresses. She was a beautiful woman. The smile he'd seen in the photo on the Internet hadn't put in an appearance yet, but so far he hadn't given her much reason for happiness. He'd have to change that.

But first he needed her to confirm what he suspected had happened.

If his damned bereavement band could be broken before his two weeks were up, he'd already be flying her back to the clan and getting this fixed before some other poor girl had to go through the same thing she had endured.

"About six months ago, I got a letter saying I was short-listed to be a possible volunteer."

Six months ago? They hadn't even finished the first draft of the agreement at that time. Damn it. He should have asked for more details, but how could he have suspected the humans would resort to sacrifices the way they used to in the Dark Ages?

"Of course all of the people who'd received the letter appealed. We hired a lawyer. Things were going well, I thought. But then, when the local municipal election was called, there was a secondary ballot for these so-called
volunteers
…" She shuddered.

He felt a strange compulsion to comfort her, but stayed where he was. He didn't want her to stop talking until he knew it all.

"I couldn't believe it. There was my name. Hell. They even had my photo and a bio on the sheet." She wiped her cheek, as if removing a tear, but her eyes were dry.

"How many other names were there?"

"Six." She turned to stare out the window. "There were six of us in my riding, but who knows how many women were listed on similar ballots in other jurisdictions."