“Morning, Red.”

The man’s voice was so deep, his overused, outdated greeting so easy and familiar that, for the first time in her life, Caitlin felt her face flush with embarrassment. “Where am I?”

“According to your directions, you’re home. If not, then we’ve invaded someone else’s privacy for the last three days.”

“Three days? What have I been doing?”

“If you don’t know, then I haven’t given it my all.” He sighed, then chuckled softly and drew a fingertip down her spine. “Feeding.”

For three days? She was in bed with a man who possessed the chiseled body and face of a Greek god and she couldn’t remember the feel of his body on, or in, hers?

“Who are you?”

“Ladies first.”

“Caitlin St. George.”

The man froze, his eyes widening for a split second before he moved away from her and shifted into the form of a smoky dragon before disappearing.

DENISE LYNN, an award-winning author, lives in the USA with her husband, son and numerous four-legged “kids.” Between the pages of romance novels she has traveled to lands and times filled with brave knights, courageous ladies and never-ending love. Now she can share with others her dream of telling tales of adventure and romance. You can write to her at PO Box 17, Monclova, OH 43542, USA, or visit her website, www.denise-lynn.com.

Dragon’s Promise

Denise Lynn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Braeden was for Brenda, Cameron for Cheryl…

And for my sister Sandy, I grant you Sean, along with all of his passion and his magick.

With much love, always.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Ancient castle ruins on the east coast of Ireland—October 3. Two years ago

Candlelight flickered in the drafty cell, casting eerily dancing shadows on the wall behind the altar. Pacing before the altar, Nathan the Learned paused to stare into the undulating flames, before gazing down into a crystal bowl. The water filling the bowl had been blessed by the light of a full moon to lend more power to his scrying.

He scried not for hints of what the future held, because he knew that once his deeds this night were completed, his future would be secure. Instead, he wanted to see the past. Not just a hazy memory of days gone by, but a clear reckoning of what had brought him to this long-sought-after moment of greatness.

With one hand on the head of the naked, bound woman kneeling at his feet, he waved the other over the bowl. The water rippled outward from the center, as if disturbed by a falling pebble.

A wavering image of a medieval castle appeared. Mirabilus. The medieval stronghold where it all began so very long ago. The water stilled, permitting the reflection to become clearer. A cold breeze, not unlike the one he’d felt that fateful night, brushed across his cheek. The shape of an amethyst dragon formed over the image of the castle. It wavered as if trying to take flight and then it cracked, splintering into a million pieces, just as it had that fateful night. He then saw himself as a child hiding within the darkness of a curtained alcove as the High Druid, his uncle Aelthed, killed his own brother—Nathan’s father. The terror of the child flowed into the man he’d become, settling cold in his belly. He had vowed revenge that night and would soon taste the victory he’d craved for so long.

The image of childhood faded, permitting a new one to appear. Again Nathan saw himself, this time a man full grown, leaning over the High Druid Aelthed as he lay gasping his last breaths upon his bed. He cared not that the wizard suffered in his final moments. The man deserved whatever pain and agony plagued him—not just for killing Nathan’s father, but for also seeing to it that he had been laid to rest in an unhallowed grave, unable to ever attain life after death. Worse, when the time had come for Nathan to be named Dragon Lord of Mirabilus, the honor had gone to another, along with the ancient family grimoire and the two remaining dragon pendants.

Nathan shook with unforgotten rage. Oh, yes, the wizard had paid dearly for those mistakes. As Aelthed’s soul had sought escape from his withered body, Nathan had trapped it in a wooden puzzle box that locked with such an intricate, complicated set of moves no one would ever be able to free his soul. For nearly nine centuries, Aelthed’s soul had remained imprisoned. And for most of those years, Nathan had kept the puzzle box close at hand, guarding it like a prized possession.

Until he’d dropped it while trying to escape death at the talons of a Drake’s magical dragon when he’d tried to destroy the eldest Drake and his wife.

Now all the items he needed—the puzzle box, the pendants and the grimoire—were together under the protection of the current Dragon Lord. From what he could discern, the Drakes had been unable to break the spell holding the wizard’s soul captive. So, just as he’d planned, Aelthed’s spirit was still confined, waiting for Nathan to set him free.

Once again the image faded. This time it was replaced by the reflection of his son, pale and cold in death. Nathan screamed in agony and waved the recent, too painful image away.

Tapping the handle of the braided leather whip he held against his thigh, he seethed. A few years ago he’d nearly lost his own life to the current Dragon Lord. Sorely wounded, he’d nurtured his hatred and desire for power, using that dark energy to survive. Which was more than what could be said for his son. The Dragon Lord’s twin had taken his sole remaining son—once again preventing him from reaching his goal.

He cursed the Dragon Lord and his family. They were the only obstacle in his way—the only thing that kept him from attaining supreme power.

For all these centuries, the Drakes had stood between him and his place as Hierophant, supreme ruler over all.

But no more.

This time he would gain possession of the Drake family grimoire, those accursed pendants and the ancient puzzle box—along with its spellbound occupant. Once all of the items were in his hands, he could finish the spell he’d worked on for centuries, and then the position of Hierophant would be his. And when he alone held supreme power, nothing and no one would ever again be able to repudiate his will.

Nathan laughed. And this time he wouldn’t have to lift a finger to defeat the Drakes.

They thought themselves unreachable, hiding behind a specialized security system that made breaking in to Dragon’s Lair undetected, impossible for anyone possessing more than human capabilities. And they were far too cautious, their sixth sense too well developed for him to be able to attack them away from their stronghold.

But he had another option at hand. He glanced at the woman kneeling on the stone floor before his altar. A necessary link. With her help, this time he would use a Drake to beat them.

Now that the full moon had finally risen, he was anxious to set his perfect plan into motion. He screamed at her, “Say the words!”

When she refused, he snarled and then raised his arm asking, “Do you enjoy the bite of pain?”

At her silence he flicked the whip in his hand, making it hiss and whistle as it snaked toward its victim. The crack echoed in the nearly empty chamber. The tips of the braided leather scored her naked back, adding yet another row of bloody lines to the pale flesh.

Her shoulders flinched, but she gave no other sign of giving in to the agony—yet.

Nathan narrowed his eyes and trembled with a surge of unbridled lust. This gypsy mage could give him many weeks of untold pleasure. Even after his rather ardent lovemaking last night, she was still lovely. The lingering traces of his touch on her luscious breasts and full hips only made her more desirable. He saw the bruises as his marks of ownership, and he ached to once again possess her.

Not just yet. Soon. His mind whispered for him to be patient, and Nathan drew in a long, shuddering breath.

First he needed the ancient curse against his enemies to be spoken. He had repeatedly tried activating the simple yet powerful curse himself and found only failure. He’d studied the curse’s history over and over until discovering that it was not Druid. It was of Romani origin, and he was certain this beautiful gypsy mage possessed the magic to give the curse life. He’d cloaked himself in the allure of youth then seduced her with the promise of riches and whispered of nights filled with tender, fulfilling lovemaking.

But when she’d seen his true self, discovered his lies and the reason for the curse, she’d sworn to never say the words. Her reaction made him more certain she could bring the curse alive and one way or another, he would force her to do so.

Nathan dropped the whip at his feet and grabbed a handful of her thick, raven-hued hair. Tugging on it until the hairpins he’d used to secure the luxurious tresses atop her head and away from her back slipped free.

He slid his other hand along her neck, closing his fingers one by one tightly over her windpipe. “Do you seek death out of some misguided notion that it will save those I wish to harm?” He leaned down and whispered against her ear. “It will not work. If you refuse me again, I know another mage...another gypsy mage...one much younger than you who will be more than grateful to escape your fate.”

The woman tensed beneath his touch, obviously realizing that he spoke of her younger sister.

“Perhaps we will try one more time.” He relaxed his hold around her neck slightly.

She swallowed hard and then nodded.

He released her and stepped back to retrieve the whip and send it sailing to snap loud on the floor beside her. “Say the words.”

When she bowed her head and began to whisper, Nathan lashed his weapon once again across her back, shouting, “Louder, so I can hear you!”

“Not a dragon born—” she paused, gasping as if the words burned her throat more than the lashes across her flesh “—yet a dragon you shall be.”

Nathan tossed a pinch of dark reddish powder into the flickering candle atop the altar. When the flames danced around the dragon blood, he nudged the woman, ordering, “Finish it.”

“Once this beast has taken form, it will answer only to thee.”

Nathan dropped clippings of his own hair into the candle. As the stench of burning hair filled the air, and the flames of the candle sparked, he proclaimed, “I am thee.”

He stared down at the woman. Now that the curse had been given voice, his lust vanished. While there was no way to know how long it would take for the curse to work, her task had been completed. The time had come to end their partnership. “I fear I have no further use for you, my dear.”

He let the whip fly again and again, chuckling as it cracked loudly across her shoulder. Disappointed that she didn’t beg for mercy, or so much as raise a hand in her own defense, he worked the deadly weapon until her ragged breaths were nothing more than a few mewling gasps.

Drenched in sweat and gasping for breath himself, Nathan let the whip fall from his hand and leaned over the dying woman now curled in a ball on the floor. She opened one swollen eye and whispered, “St. George will set you free.”

He growled at her and then shrieked, “You bitch!” before drawing what little life force she had left from her body.

With her last choked breath, she once again whispered, “St. George will set you free.”

Chapter 1

Outskirts of Detroit—One year ago

“Man, now that is one fine-looking piece.”

“Yeah, how’d you like to have a taste of that?”

Inwardly seething, Sean Drake’s only physical display of disgust was a slight tightening of his grip around the beer bottle in his hand at the juvenile comments the thugs in the booth behind him were making about the woman who’d just taken a seat at the bar. Their antics and crude behavior were starting to chafe at his last nerve.

These men were petty thieves and thugs. One was a large, hard-drinking bully, and the other his smaller, junkie buddy. Both low-life slugs.

He’d run into them a few weeks ago when they were casing the neighborhood around his current apartment. They’d been looking for their next target, and he’d made certain to accidentally bump into them that night to thwart their plans.

He should have killed them instead.

Had he followed his gut instinct, they wouldn’t be here tonight, intent on harassing someone weaker and smaller than themselves. He wasn’t about to let that happen. He didn’t care what trouble they brought on themselves, but they wouldn’t be permitted to hurt anyone else.

Sean tossed back the bottle of beer he’d been nursing and realized with a start that it was time to go home. Not to his sparsely furnished, one-bedroom apartment at the edge of the city, but home to the forested mountains and Dragon’s Lair. He choked back a laugh at that thought. Barely eight months had passed since he’d left the Lair, but it felt like years. Actually, he hadn’t simply left. Confused, half-dead and afraid for his life, he’d run away in the middle of the night.

It had taken him most of this time alone to come to the conclusion that he’d deserved the beating the Dragon Lord had given him. After all, his unwillingness to control his new, and unwanted, powers had put not just himself at risk, but he’d also become a danger to his brothers and their families. As the Dragon Lord, Braeden had been forced to choose between knocking some sense into the new changeling, or killing him.

Thankfully, even though it would have been within his rights as the lord, his brother hadn’t chosen to take his life. Sean knew he should have been grateful, but at the time, the boulder-sized chip on his shoulder hadn’t allowed him to see reason. Instead, he’d convinced his sorry self that everyone hated him, that nobody understood him—basically, he’d reacted like a spoiled, self-centered child.

But he hadn’t been a child. He’d been a relatively normal twenty-six-year-old adult with a college degree, and more wealth and opportunities than most people would see in a lifetime. He had a good position in the family business and a family who’d cared about him.

Until just over a year ago, when he had been torn from a dark dream by the sounds of a striking whip and an evil cackle, followed by what sounded like a raggedly chanted curse. He hadn’t been able to make sense of the breathless words, just snippets of a woman’s pain-filled voice. A demonic urge to change into a dragon had filled him. With it came an unrelenting need to seek Drake blood. Since he wasn’t a changeling, he had chalked it up to being nothing more than remnants of a nightmare.

His shape-shifting into a dragon would have been fine as far as Braeden or Cameron were concerned. Since both of his older brothers were changeling wizards and possessed dragon blood from birth, they would have welcomed his newfound ability. But it wasn’t fine with him. He had always been the normal one, the human brother without any power to read minds, transfer thoughts, slide into dreams, shift into a dragon or materialize someplace on a whim.

For many long weeks after the nightmare, he’d been edgy, moody, confused and unreasonable. As the next month passed, instead of fading away, the troubling urges from that dark dream grew. At the time, he’d thought he was losing his mind. But then, when the dream turned real and he had shifted to dragon form, he’d felt invincible and driven with only one purpose in mind—to kill his brothers. Aunt Danielle had been convinced that he’d been cursed—and since he had heard bits of a chanted curse in his nightmare, he agreed with her assessment, but could do nothing to break whatever spell had been cast over him, except wonder who had cast the spell and why.

Cameron had spent the next two months trying to teach him how to use this new unearthly power and how to control his urges, but Sean had been reluctant to accept his brother’s training. One night, in a moment of what he could now only consider pure insanity, he’d shifted into dragon form and attacked Braeden.

While he’d known that as the Dragon Lord his brother was a powerful wizard, he hadn’t truly known just how powerful until Braeden’s beast gave him a beat down he’d survived only by some miracle.

Sean rubbed the side of his neck. Just remembering that night made his scars burn like fire. How would his brothers—and their beasts—react when he showed up at Dragon’s Lair? Would they let him come home? If so, what would it cost him to gain entry back into the family fold?

A sudden flash of sensual heat flowed through him, interrupting his musings and drawing his attention to his surroundings. The brilliant green eyes of his slumbering dragon flickered open. The black, elongated pupils narrowed and widened, dilating with curiosity and interest.

Sean tensed, focusing on the unexpected awakening of his inner beast. He controlled the urge to shift and then studied the other occupants of the bar. Who—or what—had roused the dragon from its slumber?

His gaze settled on the exceptionally attractive woman at the bar—the one the thugs were still drooling over as they kept up their running commentary of what they’d like to do to her.

Their shallow imaginations leaned more toward control and force than pleasure. The urge to show them exactly how control and force felt grew stronger by the minute.

Yeah, it was definitely time to go home before he did something that would terrify the humans of this world.

Curious about the woman, and his dragon’s rapt fascination with her, he rose from his seat at the booth and grabbed his empty beer bottle from the table. Seemed the perfect time to get another one.

Crossing the uneven floor of the seedy neighborhood bar, Sean knew he was ready to pay whatever price his brother demanded. In an effort not to draw unwanted attention from his family, he’d avoided touching his bank account. Now, he was tired of drifting, tired of picking up one meaningless job after another just to eat and beyond tired of trying to act normal among humans who would never understand or accept what he’d become.

Sean leaned over the empty stool next to the woman, put the bottle on the worn bar top and nodded when the bartender reached to pull a fresh longneck from the cooler.

Intentionally turning to face the woman, Sean breathed in deeply. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but instead of some floral or botanical perfume, her scent was enticing—like exotic spices and promises. Lusty promises that curled around him, twisting, swirling, drawing him ever closer.

He leaned in until his lips were mere inches from her cheek. When she turned her head to look at him, her scent grew stronger, filling his mind and his blood with the need to possess her. He wanted to taste her deep red, full lips, run his fingers through those auburn-and coppery-colored waves curling halfway down her back and get lost in the warmth of her brandy-hued eyes.

When she didn’t lean away from him, he motioned for the bartender to refill her drink then tossed the money for the beer and her drink on the bar.

“Thank you.”

Her low, throaty whisper raced warm and enticing across his face, leaving him almost trembling with lust. The dragon’s rumble of desire deepened to a guttural roar, demanding he claim this woman as his own.

Surprised by both his and the beast’s intense responses, he was certain this was no mortal woman. He freed his senses and brushed his mind briefly across hers.

Instead of discovering nothing of interest, a rush of familiarity, of like meeting like, confirmed his assumption—she was another preternatural. His knowledge about others of his kind was limited, gained from the few details his family had provided and from stories told by a vampire he’d run across a couple of months ago. It didn’t require an abundance of knowledge to know from the instant, sensual heat of her returned touch and the seductive half smile playing across her mouth, that she was a succubus looking for much more than just another drink.

Her sense of desperation swept over him. She wasn’t seeking just a quick night of pleasure. Sharp, painful pangs of hunger gnawed at his gut—she needed to feed from someone strong enough to withstand the draining she would unleash on them.

More than able to satisfy her craving, Sean smiled back at her. She could feed on his life force for days without draining him.

Before he could understand exactly what was happening, or offer protest, Sean’s beast gently blew an invisible puff of fire and smoke in her direction, marking the woman as his.

Didn’t the dragon understand that the two of them were one being? The beast couldn’t claim a mate without committing Sean to the same person. He resisted the urge to gasp at the implication. Of course the beast knew exactly what it had done.

Sometimes Sean wished he’d have paid more attention to what his brother had tried to teach him. Even though he didn’t possess the ability to materialize elsewhere or slide into another person’s dreams like his brothers did, he was able to shift and to communicate telepathically. While it made him more like them, more of a Drake perhaps, he still didn’t understand his beast the way his brothers did theirs.

Why had his beast chosen this moment to mark a woman when it had never considered doing so before? Was it because he’d recently been thinking about returning to Dragon’s Lair and his family?

And why this woman? Sean held back a chuckle. The answer to this question was obvious. He wanted this beguiling temptress with every fiber of his being.

She said nothing, but the slightest widening of her eyes let him know she’d felt the mental brand.

He pushed the drink he’d bought closer to her then grabbed the beer, deepened his smile and nodded before returning to the booth without saying a word.

Caitlin watched him leave. A less-perceptive woman might have been deflated by his nonverbal response, interpreting it as a dismissal. However, she knew better. He may not have spoken words, but his brief touch across her thoughts had felt like a warm, possessive caress against her cheek. His inner beast had marked her, meaning this was no mere mortal man. Whatever nonhuman traits he possessed were apparently from the animal kingdom. But his mental touch hadn’t permitted her entry into his mind to tell her which one.

However it didn’t require any degree of perception to notice that he hadn’t simply walked away—he’d sauntered, swaggered—as if confident of her interest and daring her to follow him.

Caitlin curled her fingers around the glass he’d pushed toward her. The imprint left by his touch was still warm under hers. Beneath the warmth churned a hunger as deep as her own. She shivered with anticipation, knowing her bed wouldn’t be cold or lonely tonight.

Of more importance had been the feeling that his interest in her was purely physical—an interest that she welcomed with relief. Because of a vow to her mother, she hadn’t fed in over a month, and now blood flowed through her veins like a thick, slow-moving sludge. The lethargy weighing her down was nearly unbearable; she needed something—someone—to refill her life force.

The fastest, easiest way to gain the life-giving power she needed to survive was to simply suck the force from another being. However, that required her to know when to stop before completely draining the donor, and right now her hunger would make that nearly impossible.

But the most pleasurable way to obtain what she needed, the fairest way for the other participant and the longest-lasting method was through hot, intense sex. Finding a willing partner wasn’t a problem, since as a succubus, men and women were always drawn to her whether she summoned the attraction or not. Unfortunately, most humans didn’t possess enough life force, or the driving need—a near-insatiable hunger—to survive mating with her.

Hence the reason for promising her mother that she’d refrain from feeding on them—again. Since this man wasn’t human, he stood a better chance of living through the event.

The old cliché “killing two birds with one stone” came to mind. She would still be honoring her parents’ request by not seeking out a human, and by morning she might gain enough life force to last weeks.

She raised the glass to her lips and then paused before putting the drink back on the bar without taking a sip. Already weak and slow, Caitlin knew the booze would only make her feel worse. She’d come in here as a last resort, looking for a donor, not to get drunk.

Now that she’d found what she wanted—what she so desperately needed—it was time to go. Not for one second did she worry about him finding her. She’d strategically leave enough of her scent lingering in the air that he’d find the way to her home with ease.

* * *

“Aren’t you a hot little thing?”

Hot? Always. Little? Caitlin resisted rolling her eyes at that description. She hadn’t been a little thing since she’d hit just under six foot tall at age twelve.

A yellowish glare from the streetlight at the end of the alley danced in the droplets of sleet rolling down the thug’s drawn blade. She forgot about his comment and took another step back from the two men stalking her, luring them farther into the dark alley.

They’d been in the booth behind the changeling at the bar. She’d heard their crude comments when she’d entered, felt them watching her when she’d left the bar, and she’d seen their reflections in the smoked-glass window as they followed her out. She’d expected him to follow her, but these two were another story.

With a quick touch of her mind to the humans, she discovered that while their goal also included sex, it wasn’t the passionate kind they wanted. She quirked an eyebrow at their stupidity and kept walking backward.

They had corralled her into the alley a block away from the bar where no one would see them—mistakenly thinking she was an easy target. She might be drained, but her tired muscles and slow reactions would still be more than enough to handle these two.

One man swung a knife at her, laughing as she jumped back from what he thought was a lethal blade.

“Yeah. Come on, cut her, cut her.” The smaller of the two men squealed like a child. From the glassiness of his eyes, the lack of meat on his bones and the jerkiness of his movements, he was obviously juiced on something more than beer.

The changeling with a body even she would die for approached frowning, but said nothing to stop the other two men. He hung back. A quizzical expression drew his brows together as if he was waiting for something.

“Do you want my help?” She jerked slightly at the intrusion of his silent query.

“No.” Caitlin scoffed at his offer, adding, “You know damn well that help with these two isn’t what I want from you.”

Once again he gave her a smile full of promises and passion.

She drew her full attention to the thug with the blade, and because the question was usually expected in these situations, she asked, “What do you want?”

Knife man smiled. “Why, darlin’, we want you.”

Of course he did. Everyone wanted her whether the desire was mutual or not. Caitlin shrugged out of her unzipped jacket, letting the buttery-soft black leather hit the wet pavement. “Oh, big boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Her unexpected, brazen comment stopped them in their tracks. Only the twitching drughead seemed upset by the sudden turn of events. But his most dangerous response was to twitch faster.

Needing just a drop of energy before taking on these two humans, she reached out with her mind and touched the junkie, recoiling instantly from the contamination and disease he carried deep in his soul. No way in hell would she place a finger on him and risk poisoning herself needlessly.

She focused on the knife wielder. He possessed a vile darkness that wouldn’t kill her, but it would eventually make her physically ill. From their encounter in the bar, she knew the changeling would give her the opportunity to heal herself long before she became sick.

The blade sliced through her silky tank top and across her rib cage as the thug closed his hand boldly around her left breast. “Teasing will get you killed.”

Caitlin didn’t flinch at the knife tip’s burn. The lost blood would soon be replenished, and the cut would heal momentarily. And while his hold on her body irritated her, it didn’t hurt.

But he’d ruined her favorite top. That was completely unacceptable.

She tilted her head and smiled before placing the palm of her hand against his cheek. “Teasing?”

The knife fell from his hand, his pupils dilated and he moaned raggedly with a sudden, unexpected flare of lust. Humans were just so damn easy. She threaded her fingers through his dark, greasy hair. Resisting the urge to shiver with disgust, she cupped the back of his head and drew him closer, whispering, “I would never tease about anything as important as a new top.”

When their lips nearly met, she exhaled softly, filling him with mindless desire and near-excruciating need.

His eyelids fluttered closed—he was hers to do with as she willed. Caitlin tightened her hold and inhaled almost every last ounce of his life-giving force until he whimpered like a little girl.

“Enough.”

The preternatural’s one-word command shocked her into releasing her grip on the human. She let him drop to the pavement like a rock. Nobody outside her parents, or the royal circle of elders, gave her orders. Who did he think he was?

The junkie stared down at his buddy in open-mouthed shock. Jerking his head and shoulders, he screamed, “What? What the hell did you do?”

Mr. To Die For popped the little guy on the jaw and dropped him with one hit.

Caitlin staggered, gasping in confusion and worry at her sudden inability to function, or focus. She’d known she would be ill from sucking the life out of the thug. But not this quickly, never this fast. This wasn’t normal. Something was wrong. Her heart thudded fast and hard inside her chest. What was happening to her? What was so different this time around?

She stumbled and then bounced off the garbage Dumpster. Just great. Her parents would be so pissed off if she went and got herself killed now.

“Come here.” The male she’d wanted pulled her against him right before she collapsed into a puddle. Cupping her chin, he tipped her head up and brought his lips close to hers. “Eat. Drink. Whatever it is you do.”

She weakly slung an arm around his neck. “How romantic.”

“Yeah, that’s me, Mr. Romance at your service. Shut up and feed.”

“Not a vampire.” Her words sounded disjointed to her ears.

“No shit.”

Caitlin’s stomach cramped; her legs shook. Had he not been holding her so securely, she wouldn’t have remained on her feet for much longer.

When her arm slipped from around his neck to dangle uselessly, she knew there’d be no way she’d be able to exhale anything from him. Hoping his intent was truly to help her, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

The first touch of his lips against hers sent a lightning-charged zing of energy clear to her toes. She sighed with the most exquisite longing, forgetting even to draw in his energy as she reveled in the utter completeness of the moment for a split second before darkness overtook her.

* * *

Caitlin’s first awareness was the feel of cool, satiny-smooth sheets against her flesh. Her second was that she felt more alive than she had in months. She opened her eyes and gazed into the grassy-green depths of the eyes staring back at her.

“Morning, Red.”

Normally, that clichéd endearment would send her ire skyrocketing, but his voice was so deep, his overused, outdated greeting so easy and familiar that for the first time in her life, she felt her face flush with embarrassment. His one-sided smile—a seductive, knowing smirk—only lent more heat to her cheeks.

Confused by her odd reaction, she asked, “Where am I?”

“According to your directions, you’re home. If not, then we’ve invaded someone else’s privacy for the past three days.”

Three days!

She sat up quickly, glancing around to make certain she truly was home. The deep forest green of the walls were adorned not with any feminine ornamentation, but with only the tools of her trade—a centuries-old broad sword and a pair of even more ancient crossed daggers—mounted near the door let her know they were indeed in her bedroom. No other woman would have decorated their bedroom in such a manner. Satisfied with her location, she held the sheet tightly to her neck. “Three days? What have I been doing?”

“If you don’t know, then I haven’t given it my all.” He sighed then chuckled softly and drew a fingertip down her spine. “Feeding.”

For three days? And she couldn’t remember any of it? She was in bed with a man who possessed the chiseled body and face of a Greek god and she couldn’t remember the feel of his body on, or in, hers? Either she’d lost her mind, or he was some type of preternatural she’d never met before.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying desperately to remember. Then slowly, bit by bit, the fog started to clear, permitting snippets of their time together to trickle into her mind.

They’d met in a bar and had been attracted to each other from the beginning.

His inner animal—the part that made him preternatural—had marked her. She wasn’t certain why it had done so, only that for some reason it had chosen her. More importantly, she hadn’t turned him away.

Images of the thugs in the alley floated through her mind. When she’d become sick immediately after draining the one attacker, this man, the one now in her bed, had been there to catch her before she fell to the wet pavement. He’d given her energy—his own life force, without question.

A shiver of lust raced down her spine as more, broken bits of memories poured forth. Not quite visual memories, but more like remembered feelings. The warmth of his mind-robbing kiss as his tongue had swept across hers. And the certainty of his touch when he’d stroked and caressed her to a fevered pitch that left her gasping for air and wanting so much more.

All of this was so foreign to her, so strange. She’d never let a man into her bedroom. She’d never been so swept away by a kiss that she’d lost the ability to think. She’d never met a man who could willingly fill her life force and live.

Never before had she desired, longed for, lusted after a man who possessed an inner strength that was on a level she couldn’t quite understand, and while it excited her, it also frightened her.

Though she could remember the feel of his touch, the taste of his kiss, she couldn’t pull his name from her memories. It was an odd time to ask, but she wanted to know.

Caitlin took a breath, looked at him and asked, “Who are you?”

He tugged on the sheet, dragging it down to her waist, and sat up far enough to slide his tongue along the curve of her breast. “Ladies first.”

She shivered. How many times had he done that the last few days? Caitlin swallowed her moan. Had she enjoyed it as much as she did now? “Caitlin St. George.”

The man froze, his eyes widening for a split second before he moved away from her. His smile faded into a deep, menacing laugh, wiping away her desire to lean in to his caress.

Fear slid in behind her lingering passion, pushing it away, flowing over the warmth to bury it with a cold, foreboding chill. Maybe she should have asked what he was, instead of who.

Before she could part her lips to voice her question, he shifted into the form of a smoky dragon and was gone.

Chapter 2

Dragon’s Lair, Drakes’ Resort in East Tennessee—today

“Sean, we have a problem.”

Without taking his attention away from the lines of coding on his monitor, Sean reached out to absently hit the button on the intercom. “What now?”

“The security alerts are going insane. Again.”

“Be right there.” He saved the program he’d been debugging, shrugged into his suit jacket and headed 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 both of her hands with one of his own and dragged them down the length of his chest and past his waist. “You don’t need to beg—at least not right now. We can save that for later.”

When he bent his head to once again feed her shivers with his lips, she turned slightly and sank her fangs into his neck.

He pulled free from her bite, still smiling. “New trick?”

“A gift from my father. You should be grateful that unlike him, I don’t suck blood.”

“Oh, sweetheart, there isn’t anything you could do to me that I wouldn’t like.”

“Sean, please.” She shoved him farther away and paced along the back of the elevator. “I’m not here on a pleasure run. I need your help.”

Her worry settled cold in his blood, effectively cooling the wayward desire. He watched her carefully. Her stride as she paced was brisk and determined. Yet she repeatedly curled and uncurled her fingers while shooting him brief darting glances. Nervousness was mixed in with her worry.

Sean silently swore. How did he so instinctively know that without delving into her mind? What was this thing between them? Why the instant attraction before and again now, and why did he so easily pick up on her moods? And why was his beast so conflicted between desiring her and wanting to tear her to shreds?

The only thing he understood about any of it was that he didn’t like it—at all. It was an interruption in his life that he didn’t need right now. This was something he couldn’t control. And the safety of his family and his own life depended on his ability to control the vile urges demanding their deaths that still haunted him at times.

Without looking, he reached over and hit the stop button. When the elevator bounced gently to a halt, he asked, “I haven’t heard from you in nearly a year, what sort of help do you think I’d be willing to offer?”

She paused to look at him with narrowed eyes. “I gave up trying to contact you after about four months.”

“I never received a call or any other contact from you.”

“If by other contact you mean telepathy, I can’t do that unless I can see you. So summoning you with my mind was out of the question. Since you’d shifted into a dragon, it wasn’t that hard to guess your identity. There aren’t that many dragon clans left, and the way you reacted to hearing my name made it fairly obvious you were a Drake. After that, finding the phone number to Dragon’s Lair was easy.” She resumed pacing, her arms crossed against her body. “Unfortunately, I kept getting the wrong Drake. I spoke to your aunt. The last time I called she told me that you were recently engaged and to leave you alone.” The look she turned on him was frigid. “So I did.”

He felt her rising anger. However, it was nothing compared to his own. Engaged? That was the best Aunt Dani could devise? “When was this?”

Caitlin shook her head and sighed as if bored with this conversation. “The first time was about a month after you disappeared from my bedroom.”

She’d called while he was still debating whether to come home or not. Which explains why he had never received word that she’d called. However, he’d returned to the Lair shortly after that, so why hadn’t his aunt mentioned the calls?

That was something he’d take up with Danielle later.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t living here then.”

“Ah.”

He was taken aback by the shortness of her answer. “I am not engaged.”

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “That doesn’t matter.”

“What did you—”

She turned to face him, throwing up her hands to stop him from talking. She screamed in frustration and then nearly shouted, “Our son has been kidnapped!”

The beast reared back and growled with enough force to send him stumbling backward. The growl turned menacing as it vibrated inside his chest. Between that unexplained bout of temper and the sudden roaring in his ears, he wasn’t certain he’d heard her correctly. After taking a deep breath and shaking his head, he asked, “Our what?”

“Son. Our son.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“Yes,” she shot back. “It is possible.” She covered her face with a shaking hand for a second before adding, “I don’t have the time, nor the inclination, for this.”

He repeated, “It’s not possible.” He would have known. The beast should have known. This woman had been marked as its mate, why hadn’t the beast known, or at least sensed this had happened?

“Damn it!” she yelled. “Do you think I sleep with so many men that I don’t know who the father of my child is?”

“No.” His mind swirled with an effort to make sense of this. First, however, he needed to defuse her anger before she managed to give the beast a reason to be uncontrollably enraged. “That isn’t what I meant. Calm down. Give me a minute to—”

“Would you like a calculator?” She jerked her purse from her shoulder, rummaged inside and slapped her smartphone against his chest. “Here. We were together a little over a year ago. He’s three months old. You do the math.”

Sean cursed and pushed the phone aside. “I assumed you were on the pill.”

Not only was it lame, it was the flimsiest excuse he’d ever used. Especially since he knew what her response would be.

“Oh, of course you did. And I suppose you also assumed that human birth control pills would somehow be effective?”

He closed his eyes at the expected reply. He’d never had to worry about any type of danger inherent with spur-of-the-moment sex, since his beast had the uncanny ability to sense when something wasn’t quite right and would steer him away from the encounter. As for birth control—his brothers had assured him that it was a nonissue since he could only impregnate his...mate.

Sean wanted to kick himself. Once they’d walked into her bedroom he’d been so wrapped up in lust, need, desire and her that he’d never given a second thought to the fact his dragon had marked this female at the bar. How had he let himself get so out of touch with reality? It wasn’t as if he could blame the alcohol—he’d only had two beers. Regardless, intoxication wasn’t an acceptable excuse for anything. Especially not for this.

Caitlin dropped the phone back inside her purse, and then she grasped the lapels of his suit jacket. “I don’t care if you believe me or not. I know he’s your son, and he’s in danger.”

Sean looked down at her as he willed the snarling dragon to calm down enough for him to think. “I never said I didn’t believe you.”

“He’s just a baby.” Tears welled in her eyes. Her chin quivered. “Please, help me.”

He could hear the beast’s roar in his ears, saw it thrash back and forth in his mind. The dragon was feeling trapped and angry, but the woman in front of him was afraid and worried. His beast would soon get over its hissy fit. However, Caitlin couldn’t be expected to do the same. He stroked her cheek and brushed away a falling tear. “Yes. Of course I will.”

She fell against his chest with a cry. “Thank you.”

Ignoring a sudden bout of heartburn caused by the dragon’s displeasure with this entire situation, Sean restarted the elevator and then, against his better judgment, he wrapped his arms around her. “It’ll be fine. We’ll get him back safely. Have the kidnappers asked for a ransom?”

She nodded against his chest.

“That’s good. Money isn’t an obstacle.”

“The ransom isn’t money.”

The kidnapper didn’t want money? Then what was the demand? “So you’ve talked to the kidnapper?”

The elevator doors whooshed open, and Caitlin stepped out of his embrace. She shrugged one shoulder and then said, “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Sean frowned at her elusive answer. “My suite is right around the corner. We can talk there.”

He escorted her down the hallway in silence. Once inside his apartment suite, Sean crossed the living room to open the sliding door to the balcony. A blast of cool, late-autumn air flowed into the suite. He breathed in deeply, hoping the crispness of the air would help to quell the uneasiness in his chest.

Stepping away from the door, he motioned Caitlin toward the sofa. “Would you like something to drink?”

She shook her head as she settled into a corner of the couch.

Instead of taking a seat himself, he perched on the arm of the chair across the room from her. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”

“The day before yesterday, something broke into my room while I was napping.”

“Something?”

“Yeah—something.” She shrugged. “At first I thought it might be you, until the icy evilness of it washed over me, taking away my breath.”

As far as he knew, that type of evilness could belong to only one being. A sickening feeling in the pit of Sean’s stomach formed, growing with each passing word of her explanation.

“It was as if it knew I’d realized the thing’s vile intent, because it conjured a spell that threw me against a wall and pinned me there until it exited with our son in tow.”

“Can you describe it?”

“At first it was wispy with no real identifiable form.”

That explained why she’d thought it might be him. His dragon form was little more than smoke unless he—or the Dragon Lord—willed it into something more solid.

“And when it started to take shape, it was like a beast from a nightmare.” Her lip quivered, but she quickly turned her head away as she continued, “A monster has our son.”

Sean’s beast growled with rage. Not with a vague undirected anger like it had upon first seeing Caitlin, but with murderous intent toward the wizard who had taken its offspring.

“You’d said it spoke to you and demanded ransom?”

She nodded, but didn’t answer.

Sean rose and crossed the room to kneel before her. He stroked her cheek, coaxing her to look at him. “What, Caitlin? Tell me, what does it want?”

“The book, the box, the emerald and sapphire pendants.” She stared at him. “And for you to complete your task.”

Sean jerked back as if he’d been burned. While the items demanded as ransom told him that his suspicion had been correct—Nathan the Learned had his son—it gave him no clue as to what task he was supposed to complete.

Caitlin edged around him and stood up. With her hands pressing into her stomach, she moved across the room—away from him. Staring out the open balcony doors, she asked, “How are you involved with this...this thing?”

“I’m not.” Even though as far as he knew he wasn’t working with any malevolent being—at least not of his own free will—his answer felt...off...not quite right somehow. It felt as if his subconscious was vaguely aware of something that hadn’t yet fully registered in his brain yet.

“Then why did it place so much importance on this task of yours?” She leaned against the doorjamb. “It laughed when it repeated itself more than once.”

“It has a name—Nathan—”

“No!” She spun around with a cry before he could complete his sentence. “Not Nathan the Learned?”

Tightening his grasp on the arm of the sofa, he frowned. What did a succubus know about a Druid wizard? He straightened and turned to face her. “How do you know about Nathan?”

“My father is a vampire.”

He rubbed his neck. “I already gathered that much.”

“He’s been around long enough to have run into the Learned a time or two. Besides, my father has a seat on the High Council of our kind, so there isn’t much he doesn’t know, or hasn’t heard.” She shrugged again. “And what he doesn’t know, my mother can usually find out.”

He almost didn’t want to ask. “And your mother is a...what?”

“Dead.”

Sean resisted the urge to vanish. A few years ago he would have walked out of the apartment at such a senseless answer. But he’d seen and learned so many things the last two years that he was fairly certain this wouldn’t be anything new. “Dead as in a zombie?”

Her eyes widened. “Gross. No. Dead as in physically deceased.”

“Ah.” Feeling foolish, he offered condolences. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“No need. She’s still here.”

Maybe he hadn’t learned everything just yet. “What?”

Caitlin rolled her eyes. “She refuses to move on without my father, so her spirit is still here.”

“That raises more questions than I want to get into right now. But I don’t suppose your mother can find out where...” He paused, realizing that he didn’t know the child’s name.

“Sean.”

“What?”

“Sean. His given name is Sean Alexander Drake II.”

Just. Simply. Wonderful. Since there was no way for her to know that what she’d done in naming the boy went against centuries of Drake tradition.

“Is there a reason you made it so easy for him to be found by any dragon slayer out there?”

She shrugged. “Since I’m the slayer, it actually didn’t cross my mind. Besides, his name had nothing to do with you or what you are.”

“Right.” He didn’t buy that for a minute. “Then why make it so obvious he’s my son?”

“Because it was the easiest way to piss off my parents.”

“And I’m sure you succeeded.”

“Completely.”

Why she’d want to enrage her family in such a manner was a question left for another time. “I don’t suppose your mother can find out where Junior is being held?”

She cringed visibly at his use of Junior. “Sean—his name is Sean.”

“Can she find out where Sean is being held?”

“She already has. He’s in a castle ruins on the east coast of Ireland.”

Sean found it interesting that the wizard had holed up about as close to Mirabilus Isle as he could without being easily detected. His family had taken the larger jet, but Braeden’s personal one was still in the hangar at the airport. He pulled out his cell phone and directed Harold to have the jet fueled and ready to go as quickly as possible then tapped it off without explaining why. He and Caitlin needed to get to Mirabilus, and she had no means of otherworldly transportation.

Turning his attention back to Caitlin, he asked, “Does your mother know if he’s harmed the baby?”

“Our son is fine—for now.”

That was a relief. Although there was no telling how long that might last. A flash of heat coursing down the back of his head, then down his spine, distracted him.

“He’ll be safe for a week.”

Sean frowned at the way she’d answered his question before he’d asked, and then he realized her intrusion had caused the flash of heat. “Stay out of my head, Caitlin.”

“I’m sorry. Since we’re physically so close, it’s just easier.”

“Easier isn’t always right.” Before, at the bar, she hadn’t complained about him delving into her mind, but he wondered how she would react to the same type of trespass now and reached out to brush her thoughts.

His touch seemed to crack the mental dam she’d been using to rein in her needs. At first a trickle of weak, nervous energy flowed free. Then, as if the dam burst, the hunger she’d been holding back rushed out, nearly overwhelming him. Her raw, aching need was stronger now than it had been the night they’d first met. She was literally starving to death.

He studied her closely. While her copper-streaked auburn hair still fell in waves down her back, the shimmering luster had dulled, as had that twinkling spark in her amber gaze. Her attempt to hide the circles beneath her eyes might have worked from a distance, but now, standing before her, he could see the darker areas where the makeup had worn away. Her face seemed thinner, and her cheeks gaunt.

He lowered his focus, briefly noticing the line of padding in the shoulders of her jacket, before seeing the stark definition of her collarbone.

Sean cursed silently. This hadn’t happened in the hours since their child had been taken. Without thinking, he backed her against a wall, pinning her forcibly with his body. “What have you done, Caitlin?”

“What are you talking about?” She pushed at his shoulders. “Nothing. I’ve done nothing. Let me go.”

He ignored her feeble attempt to free herself. Instead, he opened himself to the emotions battling for escape—an avalanche of need, hunger, anger and fear cascaded against him—a tide of emotions he could easily calm, if she’d let him.

Her hunger and craving tore at him, creating a sudden urge to care for her. He didn’t question the urge; she was the mother of his child and his dragon’s mate. She was his responsibility, and he would do whatever he must to ensure her well-being.

Seemingly over his early bout of anger, his beast chuffed in agreement and then sniffed the air around her. Sean wanted to groan at the lack of life force surrounding her. How many weeks, or months, had she gone without feeding? How many more would pass before she perished?

“You’ve done nothing?” He slipped a hand beneath her jacket and felt her ribs. “Nothing?” The dragon raged with an unfamiliar worry. Fighting to control his own concern at what she’d done to herself and the beast’s anxiety, Sean said, “You will be of no use if you are dead. You need to feed.”

She sighed raggedly and leaned against him. With her lips against the hollow of his neck, Caitlin agreed. “I know.”

Letting one claw form, Sean hooked the dragon talon into the neck of her silky blouse, warning, “If this is a favorite top, consider it gone.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, but offered no resistance.

“You are spent.” He trailed a line of kisses along her cheek. “Let me help.”

At her soft sigh, he shredded the fabric and then slowly traced the smooth curve of his talon across her stomach, drawing a moan from her lips.

She shrugged out of her jacket and torn blouse, letting the clothing fall to the floor, and placed her hands against his chest. “What are you going to do to help?”

Her touch was like ice, cold and lifeless against his skin. He again sensed her fear and hunger. He knew the fear would only be calmed once her child was back safely in her arms. But her hunger twisted in his gut with an unspoken desperation that only increased his desire to feed her.

“First you are going to gain some strength.” He retracted the claw and covered her hands with one of his own. “Then we’re going to Mirabilus to get our son back and kill that bastard wizard once and for all.”

When she only nodded, he dipped his head to ask in a whisper, “What use will you be to the child if you’ve starved yourself?”

She tried to free her hands, but he held them securely against his chest. “I’m fine.”

Sean laughed softly at her lie. “You are far from fine.” He pulled her into his embrace asking, “When did you last feed?”

“I don’t remember.”

He cursed at the shakiness of her answer, released her from the circle of his embrace, swung her up into his arms and headed down the hall toward his bedroom.

She stared at him in shock. “What are you doing?”

“I would think that was obvious.” He kicked open the door, crossed the room and dropped her onto the bed.

When she scrambled, almost backstroking toward the far edge of the bed, he easily grasped her legs and pulled her back to him. Kneeling on the bed, he leaned over her and held her head between his cupped hands. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Caitlin swallowed a cry of frustration at the concern she heard in his voice. She could claim that she had tried everything to contact him, but they’d both know that was a lie. Even though she’d been unable to reach him via the phone, she could have searched for him, driven here to Dragon’s Lair. While tracking him down might have angered him, he would have come to understand the need.

Or she could say she hadn’t wanted to tell him about the baby, but she would know the strength of that lie. She had wanted to tell him, wanted him by her side during the pregnancy and delivery, but her parents and the High Council had insisted vehemently that she hold on to that secret, going so far as to imprison her—a near death sentence for her—when they discovered that she had reached out to him by calling Dragon’s Lair.

Still, at this moment, she’d be safer back in her cell. This was the last place she wanted to be—and the only place she longed to be. Beneath his unwavering stare, she finally answered, “Because I don’t want to need you.”

His easy smile was her undoing. That smug, knowing, self-satisfied, all-male half smile was enough to make the walls she’d painstakingly erected around her emotions crash to her feet as nothing more than tiny shards of broken glass.

His gentle touch stroking her cheek, brushing the hair from her face, tracing her lips, coaxed a strangled cry from her.

Blinking back unwanted tears of shame and disgust at the ease of her surrender, she slipped her arms around him and whispered, “Damn you to hell, Drake.”

“At least I won’t be lonely with you by my side.”

Between his feathery kisses, she exclaimed, “I hate you.”

Again with that smile, he answered, “I know.”

“I’d rather we didn’t—”

He covered her mouth with his, effectively cutting off her words.

When his tongue swept across hers and he exhaled, his breath filled her. It warmed her and fed life into her starving soul. He had every reason to be angry with her, but still he freely shared his life force. How could she not set aside her misgivings?

It didn’t matter that she was a St. George, a slayer of dragons, or that he was a Drake and supposedly her mortal enemy. Nor did it matter what her family or the High Council thought best. She needed this—she needed him.

She had craved his touch for so many months now that she no longer cared what her parents or the council had said. They were wrong—all of them were wrong. They’d insisted that her obvious path was to kill the dragon and had expressed disappointment that she hadn’t done so when she’d had the chance. But she knew with a certainty she couldn’t explain, that her only path in life was to not kill the dragon. Without the beast, and the man, she feared she might be the one who died.

Without releasing her, his cell phone hit the nightstand right before she heard their clothes rustle to the floor and felt the cool breeze rush across her flesh. She greatly appreciated some of his more than handy skills.

He rolled onto his back, pulling her atop him, and broke their kiss. “Now, if you’re done complaining and protesting, let me help you. Take what you need, Caitlin.”

She sat up to straddle him, her hands flat on his chest. His expression was serious, no hint of teasing quirked his lips. His heart beat strong and steady beneath her palms, no uneven thumps to give evidence of a lie.

She wanted to accept his offer, but knew full well that she was so starved for his touch that things might get out of control this time. If she drained him, killed him, she’d never see her son again, and she’d spend the rest of her life running from his family. Worry for his well-being prompted her to admit, “I don’t know if I can stop myself.”

“Darlin’,” he drawled in his best tough-man voice, “I think we both know full well that you can’t hurt me.”

When she still hesitated, Sean reached up to thread his fingers through her hair. He cupped the back of her head, and she shivered at the tingles running across her scalp.

His bright green gaze held hers, and she swore she could see the dragon within coaxing her closer as the man pulled her down. Memories of their last time together filled her mind, heated her blood and gave her the oddest sense of belonging. Coming here had been the right thing to do.

When their lips barely touched, he challenged, “I dare you to try draining me.”

How could she possibly resist such an offer?

Chapter 3

Sean knew Caitlin would be unable to resist his challenge. He relaxed beneath her as she hungrily kissed him, inhaling as much of his energy as she could.

Knowing that a kiss, a drawing in of his breath, would never be enough for her to gain full strength, he slid his hands down the smoothness of her back, chasing the rising goose bumps with his fingertips, and grasped her hips to lift her.

He wanted her healthy and whole—needed her to be at her very best for what was to come. It would take both of them to defeat Nathan and rescue the child. And she would need all the strength she could summon for what would come afterward.

He shifted beneath her and eased her slowly down the length of his erection. Her moan echoed his as she curled her fingers into his shoulders, her nails pressing hard into his flesh.

Sean closed his eyes, savoring what was more than just a physical union of their bodies. This intimate act was more than just a way to replenish Caitlin’s energy, or to satisfy the hunger between them.

It was a way to feed their beasts—to soothe the anger emanating from their souls. The growing heat of their bodies, the touch of their lips, transformed the hurt into a power that could very possibly keep them both alive.

Through a thick fog of desire he heard the security alarm scream from his office down the hall. His cell phone vibrated off the nightstand.

Before he could respond to either, Caitlin rolled off him with a harshly gasped curse. Her wide-eyed gaze flew to the bedroom doorway. “Mother! What are you doing here?”

Sean quickly spelled their clothing back on, swallowed hard and then rose from the bed. He stared at the uninvited, semisolid, still-forming woman walking into his bedroom. “Mrs. St. George?”

His beast twitched, backing away in the same manner it did when confronted by an angry Aunt Danielle. Sean rolled his eyes at the adolescent behavior of his dragon.

Mrs. St. George ignored him. Instead, once fully visible, she pinned Caitlin with a hard glare. “I thought we discussed you having anything to do with this...this vile animal.”

Animal? The dead wife of a vampire thought him an animal? Sean was amazed at the woman’s audacity.

“Like it or not, Mother, he is my son’s sire.”

Narrowing his eyes, Sean frowned at the term sire. He was the child’s father, not his overlord. But that was a detail he’d take up with Caitlin later. For now he chose to silently watch the byplay between the two women. He hoped it would give him a chance to catch his breath and regain some composure.

“This is how you defy the council? They gave you orders to keep your mouth shut and to stay away from this beast. Instead, you lied to us about where you were going and like some cheap whore, come running to the enemy’s bed?”

“He is not my enemy.”

Mrs. St. George flung her arm out and pointed a shaking finger at Sean. “That is a filthy beast. Your father would run him through with a sword and roast him on a spit like the pig he is, if he knew what you were doing.”

The dragon within shook off its initial apprehension at Mrs. St. George’s appearance. He focused his growing rage, intent on self-preservation, on the older woman. Never before had the desire to kill been so strong and overpowering—not even when he’d felt driven to murder his brothers. Who did this...ghost...think she was to threaten him in such a manner? Roast him on a spit? Sean clenched his fists tighter at his sides as he fought the unrelenting urge to shift into dragon form, rear up and do a little roasting of his own.

“What the hell is going on here?” Braeden materialized in the doorway, breaking the beast’s murderous focus by his unexpected appearance. Had Sean been thinking, he would have realized that Harold would eventually contact Braeden, who would then spell himself directly into the middle of the action.

While he was grateful for his brother’s timely interruption, Sean groaned at the speed Harold had obviously used in contacting his brother, instead of ordering the jet. “I’ve got this. Go back to your wife.”

His brother cocked an eyebrow at him before studying Caitlin, who was still on the bed, flushed and looking as rumpled as the sheets beneath her, and then at her mother, who had turned to face him. A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “Why, Mrs. St. George, how’s the hubby doing these days? Does his leg still bother him?”

Sean frowned in confusion. His brother drifted into his mind to fill in the missing piece. At the last meeting of the heads of the preternatural families, St. George and I had a minor...tiff. He lost.

Caitlin’s mother stiffened at Braeden’s question and raised her chin a notch. “That’s Baron St. George to you, Drake.”

Braeden leaned casually against the doorway and inspected his fingernails as if bored. “Lord Drake.”

Sean knew his brother’s nonchalant stance was nothing but an act. The deep steadiness of his voice had been a dead giveaway. He waited to see how Mrs. St. George would react to the Dragon Lord’s reminder of who held the higher rank. Regardless of the families involved, St. George was just a baron in his circle, and while titled, he still answered to others. Braeden was the High Lord in his, answering to no one.

Finally, with a look that could kill a mortal, Mrs. St. George dipped her head slightly in deference. “The baron is well, my lord.”

Braeden straightened and walked into the bedroom. “So, anyone care to explain what’s going on here? Why has Lady St. George come to the Lair?” He paused by the bed to stare down at Caitlin. “And why is the dragon slayer’s child in a dragon’s bed?”

Caitlin corrected him. “My father’s daughter is no longer a child, nor is he the dragon slayer. I am.”

Braeden arched his eyebrows at her statement. Before the situation could get completely out of control, Sean insisted once again, “I can handle this.”

Caitlin’s mother visibly shook before exclaiming, “My daughter bore that vile beast’s spawn!”

Sean cringed when he saw Braeden stiffen. This wasn’t how he had wanted his family to find out.

Without asking permission, Braeden stroked Caitlin’s cheek. His touch lingered far too long for Sean’s comfort. He might not have been born a preternatural, but he knew enough about his brother to realize Braeden was mining information whether Caitlin wanted him to or not.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was in fact mere seconds, Braeden lowered his arm and turned to glare at Sean. It was obvious from the darkness of his eyes and the tick in his cheek that he knew everything. “Could you have been any more foolish?”

“I...” Sean trailed off at the elongating of Braeden’s pupils. Now was not the time to poke a stick at the one being that could kill him and his child’s mother in the blink of an eye.

“You do understand what this means?”

“Yes.” Of course he did.

Now.

He was mated...

For life.

Not only was the child his responsibility, so was the mother. Getting Caitlin to understand that would be the questionable part.

“Good. Have you thought about getting into Nathan’s stronghold?”

“Haven’t had time yet. I was seeing to another...problem first.”

Braeden shot a hard gaze from him to Caitlin and back. “And you thought relinquishing a portion of your own strength would help the situation?”

His dragon bristled at the insinuation of weakness, but Sean wasn’t going to argue this with his brother at this very tense moment. So he simply nodded.

Thankfully, Braeden didn’t press the issue. Instead, he said, “This explains your need for a jet. Mine will be ready within the hour. In the meantime, figure this—” he paused to wave a hand between the two of them then continued “—problem out. I’ll head back to Mirabilus and nose around Nathan’s stronghold. Either I, or Cam, will be in touch.” Braeden nodded toward the older woman. “For future reference, whatever you do, don’t let her, or her husband, get anywhere near my nephew.”

Sean opened his mouth to ask why, but before he could utter a single syllable, Braeden was gone.

Still refusing to meet his gaze, Caitlin’s mother stepped closer to the bed. Addressing her daughter, she said, “I will not have some beast telling me what I can or cannot do.”

Beast? She called the Dragon Lord a beast in his own home? Sean had reached the limit of his patience. “Get out.” When she didn’t move, he let his dragon give the order. “Get. Out.”

The raspy, deep command got her attention, although not in the manner he’d intended. She turned to look at him with all the concern of someone being pestered by a gnat. “I beg your pardon?”

Her shoulders sagging, Caitlin implored the older woman, “Mother, please, just go.”

“Not without you, I won’t. Your father has secured Baron Derek’s signature on the prenuptial agreement. It seems that after careful consideration, and a substantial increase in the dowry, the baron is willing to ignore your childish escapades this last year. Besides, the elders have located a suitable family for the bastard you bore, and they’ll be at the manor the day after tomorrow to collect him.”

She turned to address Sean directly. “Now, if you’ll just hand over the items we need for the ransom, we’ll be on our way.”

The woman couldn’t be serious. He glanced at Caitlin, but she kept her head lowered, refusing to meet his gaze. They were going to give the baby to strangers? Just like that? Without even consulting him first?

It wasn’t as if the two of them were too young or immature to care for a child. And it most certainly wasn’t as if either one of them couldn’t afford to care for the baby. There was no logical reason to give the child away to strangers. And to talk about it so callously, as if they were doing nothing more than giving away a lamp, was more than he could tolerate.

Rage burned in his chest. But he didn’t know who he was angrier with—Lady St. George for her unforgiveable rudeness, or Caitlin for acting as if this was all fine with her. He could deal with Caitlin later. Right now, however, he wanted her mother gone.

Sean didn’t bother trying to hold his temper. The woman didn’t deserve any type of restrained behavior from him. She could count herself lucky that he didn’t unleash the dragon spitting and snarling inside him.

He strode across the room until he stood between Caitlin and her mother. Staring down at her, he once again ordered, “Get out of my apartment. Get out of the Lair. Now!”

She sighed and then motioned Caitlin to join her. “Come, it is time to leave.”

“No!” Sean yelled at her while reaching back to hold on to Caitlin’s shoulder, keeping her pinned in place on the bed. “You, get out of here. She stays.”

Lady St. George’s eyes widened, and she grew more opaque with each passing second. Right before she completely disappeared, Sean said, “And don’t come back.”

“That wasn’t necessary.”

Sean spun around to look down at Caitlin. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I?”

When she rose from the bed, he asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“They aren’t going to let me stay. I need to go home.”

“Let you stay?” He didn’t even try to hide the sarcasm in his voice. “What are you, ten years old?” Sean pointed at the bed. “Sit down. You aren’t going anywhere.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” He interrupted her. “Oh, that’s right, Baron Derek is waiting for you.” The physical act of simply saying those words aloud sent the beast into a raging fit.

She shrugged her shoulders and said nothing.

“What makes you think I’m going to let the mother of my child marry another man?”

“What do you care? It’s not as if I was ever going to marry you.”

Sean laughed at her. “Oh, darlin’, I don’t remember asking you to marry me.”

“Then what the hell are you talking about?”

He hadn’t planned on giving her the news in this manner, but now was as good a time as any. “Didn’t your daddy tell you? Must have been an oversight on his part. Why do you think he’s so anxious to get you wed to someone else?”

She sighed and looked away. “Because he’s tired of hearing others talk about his daughter in such a degrading manner.”

“Yeah, right, Caitlin. You know better than that. Do you really think St. George cares what anyone else says or thinks?”

“When it comes to me, yes, he does. He hates the dishonor I’ve brought to his door.”

“You brought a baby to his door—my baby. Since when is there dishonor in creating life?”

“When that life is conceived out of wedlock and isn’t of royal blood, there is plenty of dishonor.”

And here he’d always thought Braeden had cornered the market on acting like a medieval lord. Apparently, he’d been wrong. Sean made a show of looking around the room. “In what century do you people live?”

She raised her hands, only to lower them back onto her lap. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, hey, I get it. Wealth and power don’t replace titled nobility in your little world.” He moved closer to her. “Actually, it’s you who doesn’t understand. The reason your father is marrying you off as quickly as he can is because he knows that dragons mate for life.”

“Mate?” She jumped up from the bed and glanced toward the door. “You talk like an animal.”

“Of course I do.” If she thought she was going to make a break for it and get out of this room, she was sadly mistaken. He stepped close enough that he could feel her confusion. “Do you forget what I am?”

Before she could answer, the wispy form of his dragon rose up from him, surrounding him. He stood in the center of the smoky creature and stared at her as his beast leaned forward to capture her gaze.

Spellbound by the glittering stare holding her captive, Caitlin shivered at the display of control and power before her.

Sean crossed his arms against his chest and asked, “Are you afraid, Caitlin?”

The beast lowered its head, sniffing her, chuffing her scent, and then rose up, its mouth open, fangs bared, growling in obvious displeasure.

“You should be afraid. Far more afraid of me than you are of your parents.”

Caitlin respected her parents, didn’t want to disappoint them any more than she already had and yes, to a certain extent, she did fear their wrath. However, her fear of him had the added element of possible death—hers. Summoning as much bravado as she could, Caitlin stared at him, asking, “You plan on terrifying me to prove that point?”

“No. But you need to understand there are no options for you.”

“There are always options.” There had to be.

“No.” He circled her slowly, his beast moving with him. “Any option was lost when you carried the child to term. Had we not been mated, it’s doubtful you would have been pregnant in the first place and even if by some chance you had, you would have lost the baby long before it was born. It’s the nature of the beast—a way to prevent unwanted changelings.”

A tiny part of her mind wondered if that was the reason her parents had essentially locked her away during her pregnancy. Since she had been ravenous the entire time, they’d said it was to protect the human population. Had they lied? Had it been done in hope that the baby would perish? No. She swatted down the thought. Even though they had withheld this mating information, she was certain they would never stoop so low. “Even if that’s true, and we are...mated...it doesn’t mean we have to have anything to do with each other once Sean is rescued.”

“True. You’re right.” He agreed with her but then added, “However, there are two problems with having no contact. No matter what happens, you will never marry another man. Ever.” The smooth curve of a talon traced her spine, making her shiver with fear and unexpected longing. “Do you understand me?”

“No. I don’t. That doesn’t make any sense. We aren’t in love. We have no intentions of marrying each other.”

“Perhaps not. But dragons mate for life.”

He’d already said that. “And?”

“I can never take another mate while you live.”

She closed her eyes. This was too much. She heard his words, but they made little sense. Pinning her gaze back on his, she asked, “So, if I don’t stay with you, you’ll spend the rest of your life alone?”

“Since I have no intention of raising a son without a mother, no, I would not live alone.”

That meant— Her mind screamed. Wait a minute! No. He couldn’t be serious. Could he? She felt as if she were choking on her own breath. “You would kill me?”

He lifted one eyebrow. “How dark is that cave where your mind goes?” He shook his head. “No, I have no intention of killing you. But you are my mate. You are my child’s mother. And that’s where the second problem comes into play. If you want to see the child grow up, you’ll need to live here and trust me, you aren’t doing so with a husband in tow.”

Her stomach knotted at the implication. “Are you planning to take him away from me?”

“Absolutely. He is mine.” A low, menacing growl raced hot against her ear. “What do you care? You were going to give him to strangers.”

She trembled with dread. Her heart ached at the idea of losing her son forever. “That wasn’t my idea.”

“I didn’t hear you argue with your mother about it.”

Argue with her mother? That would have been a fine waste of time, since the woman would have simply ignored her. Never, for one second, had she worried about giving her son away—she’d had every intention of escaping with him and disappearing for good. “You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand? That you were going to give my child to another family in the St. George clan?” His voice was tight with what she recognized as anger. “What were they going to do with him?” He grasped her arms and threw her mother’s words in her face. “Run a sword through him and roast him on a spit like a pig?”

“No!” She tried to jerk free. “It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it is like.” His hold on her arms tightened. “Tell me how much love and affection the child would have received from a clan who so obviously despises what he might become.”

“Stop it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It does make me wonder, though. Would you have attended the child’s funeral wearing black? Would you have mourned his death? Or would you have avoided the event altogether?”

Her heart beat hard and fast, making breathing difficult. The smooth huskiness of his voice, more beast now than man, frightened her more than she ever thought possible. She kicked at him, twisted her arms to claw at him.

He threw her onto the bed, landing on top of her. She swung her fists. When he did nothing more than laugh, she bared her fangs and hissed.

Sean nearly laughed in her face. “You want fangs?” He turned her head with the palm of his hand, shoving her cheek into the pillow, holding her still, and sank the tip of his fangs into the tender curve where her neck met her shoulder.

His bite laced anger through Caitlin’s growing horror. She struggled to shove him away, but he tightened his hold, sending a wave of pain shooting across her shoulder.

“Let me go.”

His beast only growled, making her wonder who was in control—the man or the dragon.

Immortality had been her birthright from her father. She’d always taken comfort knowing that outside of having her heart, or head, ripped from her body, or starving to death, nothing would end her life.

However, with Sean’s deadly fangs lodged so close to her neck, her immortality was in grave danger. The sticky warmth of her own blood soaking into her clothes only served to confirm the danger.

Submit.

The deep raspy voice of the beast flowed into her mind. But submitting to him wasn’t an option. While the Drakes and St. Georges may have become slightly more civilized these last few centuries, after today that would change.

Her resistance gained her another deeper level of pain as his jaw tightened and he shook her.

Submit.

How? Caitlin sobbed at the futility of trying to fight this beast.

Caitlin, for the sake of our child, submit.

This deep voice, while still raspy and hoarse, did not contain the undertone of a beast. It was human, and its plea touched not just her mind, but something deeper, too.

With a sob, she fell lax beneath him.

After one final halfhearted shake, he gentled, releasing her, then soothing her injured flesh with his tongue, wiping away the blood and the pain as he tended the wound. His touch knitted muscle and flesh until it was once again whole.

Satisfied the injury had been healed, Sean lifted his head to look down at her and warn, “Don’t ever fight me again.”

“You have to be kidding. I’m supposed to bow to your every whim out of fear for my life?”

He heard the angry bravado in her trembling voice. Relieved that her terror had begun to subside, he lightened his tone. “See how easily you understand?”

“You are not some commanding deity that I need to mindlessly obey.”

“Damn pity. However, it doesn’t change the fact that I am responsible for your well-being and safety. It’s instinctual. Things will go easier for you if you just do as you’re told.”

When she didn’t respond to his flippancy, or statement of fact, he rose from the bed. “I need a minute alone, and I’m sure you could use some time to yourself, too. But we obviously have a plane to catch, so be quick.” He glanced around the bedroom. “You said your luggage was in your car?”

She nodded and Sean headed toward the door. “I’ll have it sent to the plane and your car parked in the garage. Join me out front when you’re ready.”

Caitlin waited a few minutes after he’d left the room before she rolled over and buried her face in the comforter on the bed. Why had she come here? What made her think that Sean would help her get their son back without any conditions of his own? She’d known he was a dragon changeling. She also knew what that meant—demanding, possessive and oh, so arrogant in his assumption that he alone was right. Yet she’d never had so much as a second thought about coming to him.

Her breath hitched, and she swallowed the urge to cry. Was her son warm? Was he dry? Had he been fed? Did they hold him when he cried?

They wouldn’t know that he didn’t like to be rocked; he’d rather be bounced. So if they rocked him, it would only make him more upset, more agitated. What if his anxiety was more than they could handle and prompted them to do something horribly reckless?

* * *

Dozing in the corner of the ancient puzzle box, Aelthed opened his eyes and tilted his head to one side with a frown. Something was...different. There was a certain something in the air swirling about his eternal jail.

It felt like... He leaned forward, his arms wrapped around his bent legs, studying the chemistry in the air. It felt like animal lust.

Need.

Desire.

He shook his head. From where had this emotion come? Who was the object of such primordial passion?

Even after more than eight long centuries of captivity, he understood and recognized the intense longing that charged the air swirling about him like lightning in a thunderstorm.

The dragon twins were already mated, so neither of them were the target. And he knew that it was not Danielle Drake. Her passion was for him, and it felt warm, comforting, enticing and nothing at all like this brewing storm.

“No.” Aelthed rose and paced, hoping the movement would clear his mind of what was impossible. “It can’t be.”

The newest changeling wasn’t a dragon born. It couldn’t be him. His beast and power came from a curse alone, not from family blood. So why would that dragon’s emotions flow all the way from Dragon’s Lair to Mirabilus, into his cell and mind? Unless... Aelthed frowned. Was there more to this curse than he’d first feared?

Sending his thoughts out into the air, he whispered, “Danielle, come, talk to me.”

Just saying her name eased the tension from his body and the frown from his face. Danielle Drake possessed far more than just guardianship of his prison—she possessed his heart. Since he’d forced himself into her hands a couple years ago, he’d come to care for her deeply and he was well aware she shared the same feelings for him.

After Nathan the Learned had dropped the box that kept Aelthed imprisoned at the feet of the Dragon Lord’s wife, Alexia, they had put him in the basement with their weapons and forgotten about him. Which suited him fine, because it gave him the chance to listen and learn.

When it became necessary to gain assistance, he’d sought out Danielle Drake. Aelthed laughed softly remembering the first time he’d spoken to her. At that moment he’d been grateful for two things—that Danielle was telepathic and that his nephew Nathan had kept him updated on the current languages through the decades. Otherwise he never would have been able to converse with the woman.

He might have only been a spirit imprisoned in a puzzle box, but that didn’t stop him from noticing how beautiful she was with her womanly curves and long raven tresses. He’d been drawn to her from the first moment she’d touched his box and made him gasp at the warmth that had flooded through him.

She was so easy to talk to, quick of wit and old enough to know her own mind. Which she had to be, considering she’d raised her three nephews alone after their parents had been killed at Nathan’s hand. It was a shame she’d never married, never had the opportunity to share a life and experiences with someone her own age. But she’d insisted more than once that her life had been full and she was content with her lot—especially now that she had Aelthed to share her joys and troubles with.

He’d once lamented the huge difference in their ages and she’d laughed at him. While it was true that he was over nine hundred years of age and she only sixty-two, he’d only lived as a man for eighty of those years. As far as she was concerned, he wasn’t all that much older.

He didn’t argue with her logic, because it made no difference while he was locked in a wooden cube.

Within moments, he felt her warm touch on the box as she lifted it from her nightstand. “What is it, Aelthed? What do you need?”

He shivered at the low, seductive timbre of her voice. Oh, to be alive again, to be a man capable of gathering her into his arms for an embrace, a kiss, a prelude to making love. A wry smile briefly crossed his lips. Dreams and wishes were all he had and of late, they weren’t nearly enough.

Opening his mind to his surroundings, he brought her into view. He nodded with approval at the way she’d been wearing her hair down lately, instead of twisted up into a tight bun. She looked younger, more alive with the raven tresses streaming along her back. Forcing his attention back to the subject at hand, he asked, “Your nephew, the youngest one, is he still back at Dragon’s Lair?”

He felt the woman’s hesitation before she answered, “Yes, he is.”

“And tell me, Danielle, what troubles him?”

She sat on the edge of her bed and sighed. “I’m not sure of all the facts since Braeden just returned from the Lair. But it seems Sean got a vampire’s daughter pregnant. She had a son, and he’s been kidnapped.”

A vampire? The changeling lusted after a vampire? “Good heavens, not St. George?”

“Of course. Would one of the Drake boys choose anyone...normal?”

Aelthed chuckled at her long-suffering tone. Even though she’d done a fine job, she never should have had to raise three Drake males on her own. “No. It would make your life all too boring if they did.”

Danielle nodded in agreement. “I suppose so.” She placed the puzzle cube on a pillow and stretched out on the bed. “So, what can you tell me about St. George?”

“Well, it’s your great-great-great-grandsire’s fault that he’s a vampire. If I recall the rumors correctly, the two of them got into a fight—the dragon and the dragon slayer—and when the dragon managed to knock the slayer out, he left the man tied to a tree in the forest assuming someone would come along and free him.”

“I can guess the rest.” Danielle snorted. “He was found by a vampire, not another human.”

“Yes. Which explains the deep-seated hatred between the two families.”

“Not that they ever would have been the best of friends in the first place.”

“Perhaps not, but we can do nothing about the past. Only the future. How did the cursed changeling get a vampire pregnant?”

“She’s not exactly a vampire. Braeden says she’s a succubus.”

Aelthed considered that possibility then shook his head. “Doubtful. I think the Dragon Lord may be mistaken on this one. Although I am willing to guess that if she’s not a full blood-sucking vampire, that she may be a psychic soul-sucking one. Does she have fangs?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met her.”

“This babe she bore, is it human—or otherworldly?”

“I’m not sure.” Danielle shook her head and sighed. “But since its mother isn’t human, doesn’t it stand to reason that the babe might not be, either?”

More to himself than anyone else, Aelthed mused, “I wasn’t thinking of the mother.”

Danielle’s frown deepened. “Surely you don’t think this curse on my nephew carried over to his child?”

“Considering the oddities of late, it’s something we need to consider.” Even though Aelthed could already guess her answer, he had to ask, “I don’t suppose you know if the babe has shown any habits that might be considered...purely Drake?”

“I can’t answer that, either. I know nothing more than you.” Danielle picked up the cube and held it out before her. “Right now all I know for certain—” she drew the cube closer and then dropped her voice to little more than a whisper “—is that your nephew, Nathan the Learned, has the child and is using him as leverage to get his hands on the grimoire...and you.”

Chapter 4

Caitlin awoke with a start, uncertain where she was at first until a warm hand brushed down her arm. Then it all came rushing back—her arrival at Dragon’s Lair, her mother’s intrusion and boarding the plane.

When they’d boarded, she hadn’t paid much attention. It’d been easy enough to fall asleep when they’d left Tennessee, but not so much now. Even though she was still exhausted, she looked around the dimly lit cabin. The only description she could think of off the top of her head was air yacht. The Drakes’ private jet wasn’t a short-hop plane. From the size of it, the baby could easily do transcontinental flights with ease.

The interior looked nothing like any plane she’d ever flown on before. She stretched her legs out before her, pressing her back into the baby-soft leather of the seat. No wonder she’d fallen asleep so quickly; this was easily the most comfortable recliner she’d ever sat in before.

From behind black-padded doors toward the rear of the plane, Sean’s voice drifted across her ears. Apparently, he was on the phone again, meaning she was free to go snooping.

Caitlin felt the side of the chair for a button to lower the leg rest. Instead, the one she pressed extended the chair out into a bed. Comfortable? Yes, but not what she wanted. She pressed another button and this time righted the piece of furniture to a chair and then swiveled away from the window. She rose and stepped around the chair next to hers—there were four of them, one on each side of the aisle and the chairs could swivel to face each other if the people seated wanted to hold a conversation.

Behind this setup was another, but while still recliners, the chairs were more like airplane seats in that they didn’t swivel around. Between the two sets of chairs was a table that folded down against the wall.

She turned around and walked past the swivel recliners into a small kitchen—or galley, she supposed—and pulled open the fridge to take a bottle of water. The closed doors beyond the galley probably led into the cockpit. She had no desire to see what was there, so turned around and walked into Sean’s chest.

“Looking for something?”

“No. Just being nosy.”

He laughed. “It’s a winged travel home. Braeden does nothing in half measures.” Pointing down the aisle, he added, “On the other side of the first set of doors is the head...bathroom. Double sink, shower, toilet. Beyond that is another set of doors that leads to another cabin with more private seating for four. Beyond that a soundproof door concealing the bedroom, where there’s two sofas that fold out to beds.”

Then he slid open a small panel on the wall next to the galley door and pressed a button. A huge screen slid down in the center of the cabin. “And if you want to watch a movie, you can do that in any of the cabins. Including the head, except that screen’s a little smaller.”

Caitlin widened her eyes. “Impressive.”

“No half measures whatsoever.”

“I can’t imagine his travel trailer.”

Sean laughed. “Where did you get the idea that Braeden goes camping?”

“No?”

He escorted her to the double chairs. “Hardly.”

They no sooner sat down than his phone rang again. “Excuse me.” He rose and walked down the aisle.

She turned her attention out the window to see only the blackness of the night. They were headed to the Drake family’s medieval stronghold on Mirabilus—an island somewhere in the Irish Sea.

It was said that the glamour spell cast over the isle, more than a thousand years ago, still held, and that any mortal who looked upon it saw nothing but mist and fog obscuring their vision.

She couldn’t begin to imagine a magic that strong. What sort of power did it take to cast such a permanent spell? This island had been in his family’s possession since the beginning of time. What sort of powers did he and his brothers hold?

Caitlin glanced toward Sean before looking back out at the expanse of darkness. He was still on the phone. Had one of his brothers discovered something about her son? She folded and unfolded her hands, fighting the impatience gnawing at her. It had only been a few hours, but her worry for her son made her anxious and left her wondering why this seemingly top-of-the-line plane was taking so long to get to Mirabilus.

“Soon.” Sean sat back down and covered her fidgeting hands with one of his own. Obviously, his call had ended. “We’ll be there soon.”

When she only yawned then nodded in response, he slipped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her against him, asking, “Tired?”

“Very.” But the knowledge that they were getting closer to her son now had her nerves on edge. Besides, his fingers circling her shoulder, and the warmth of his side against hers, had her wishing for something more than sleep.

Even though she didn’t feel his presence in her mind, his deep chuckle let her know that he was tuned in to her thoughts and she tried to pull away, but he simply swept her into his arms and across his lap as if she were nothing more than a rag doll.

“Where were we before your mother appeared?”

The warmth of his breath whispering against her ear sent shivers down her spine. Caitlin sighed and pushed against his shoulder. “Not in public.” She had no intention of joining any mile-high club.

“There’s no one here.” He made a show of looking around the empty cabin. “It’s not as if we’re aboard a commercial airliner.”

“Was that your brother on the phone?” She tried to change the direction of their conversation before it got out of control.

“Of course.” While he followed her lead with the conversation, he didn’t stop caressing her shoulder. In fact, the free hand he’d placed on her stomach was now inching higher.

“Anything I should know? Did he discover something about little Sean?”

“No. We were discussing our living arrangements at Mirabilus.”

“What do you mean by our living arrangements?” She sucked back a soft gasp as he brushed his hand along the underside of her breast.

“As in where we’ll be sleeping.”

He’d easily, and all too conveniently, ignored the intended emphasis she’d placed on the word our. Caitlin wished she could just as easily ignore the warmth of his hand that had trailed away from her shoulder to steadily stroke the sensitive spot beneath her ear. With all of the calmness she could muster, she asked, “Any reason we can’t have separate rooms?”

“A few.” He leaned his head down to rest his lips behind her ear. “For one thing, while it may be a castle, it doesn’t have near unlimited supply of empty rooms.”

“Uh-huh.” She closed her eyes, savoring the rush of sexually charged pleasure rippling to life. She really should stop him.

And she would...soon.

“For another thing—” he paused to graze her earlobe with his teeth then continued “—why wouldn’t we share a room?”

His lips joined in the play along with his teeth. She wasn’t certain which would make her lose focus first—the light nips from his teeth or the gentle suckling of his lips. She’d had no idea earlobes could be that sensitive. Caitlin leaned away, but he just followed along.

“We aren’t a couple.” For some reason her tone didn’t sound too sure of that fact even to her own ears.

“No?”

He brushed his thumb across her breast. Her nipples strained through the layers of clothing to get closer to his touch. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out with longing, swallowed hard and finally said, “No. We aren’t.”

He caressed her thigh, making her jump in surprise. When had he moved his hand from her breast? While she was still sorting through that quandary, he asked, “So, we don’t have a child together?”

“Yes, we do.” She grabbed his hand, stopping him from sliding it between her thighs.

“So at some point in time we were most definitely a couple.”

She couldn’t argue that point. However, she responded, “We were only together a few nights.”

“And days.”

He relaxed the hand on her leg. Caitlin followed suit, easing up on the confining grip she had on his hand. Sean entwined his fingers through hers and lifted their joined hands to his lips.

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