Waking the Dragon (14 page)

“Of course not.” I lifted my chin. No way was I backing out, though survival instincts told me to bolt right now. “I’m not going to have sex with you or anything.”

“No need. I can get my scent under your skin without fucking you.”

Crude words. They matched the man—hard, cold, devoid of emotion. His eyes roved the skin he planned to mark in short, quick order. So maybe a little making out. I could do that. No biggie. Just some kissing. Right?

“You’re not going to bite me or anything, are you?”

“Oh.” Closer. Closer. “Not too hard.” His voice dropped several decibels.

“Kol—”

I had a split-second warning before I was pinned to the floor on my back. Kol’s fingers wrapped my nape, spreading up into my hair around the base of my skull, his body heavy and hard on mine. His lips pressed, pried, commanded me to open my mouth. I did.

His tongue swept in—hot, invading, demanding my complete submission. He bit my lower lip, letting his teeth clamp just a little too hard. I made a soft cry before he melded firm lips over mine, giving me a punishing kiss. I braced my hands on his shoulders, pushing to catch my breath. Not that it did a damn bit of good. He was big. So big.

With a sharp crack, he fully extended his wings, creating an artificial night, closing me off to everything but him. He released my mouth and trailed nips up my jaw. The Iceman was long gone. All I felt was heat, simmering in my blood, melting through flesh to bone. His teeth grazed my earlobe. Desire coiled low and deep, tightening as his mouth worked on me.

“Let go,” said the dragon. No sign of Kol.

Though my instinct was to resist the marking, my body had other plans, responding to every sweep of his tongue, every brush of his chest. His thigh pressed between my legs, spreading them, heat rushing to the place he rubbed. I moaned in the back of my throat, embarrassed by my unwilling submission, though not enough to make him stop. God, I wouldn’t dare, it felt so good.

His hand gripped the collar of my shirt and wrenched it off my shoulder. The two top buttons popped. I didn’t care. I’d never felt so consumed, so obliterated by sensation, my blood burning, rushing like lava through my body. Mikal had been a gentle lover. There was nothing gentle about Kol. And while my brain reminded me that this was to mark me for protection only, not for any kind of affection Kol might have, I was overwhelmed by his mouth heating my skin, by his powerful frame pressing me into the red-tufted rug. I bent my knees, caging him between my legs.

His mouth opened on the curve between neck and shoulder, biting down hard. I cried out, yet still my fingers wove into his black hair, pulling him closer, my body aching for more. His hand cupped my breast, squeezing till I arched up, yielding to his will. He licked the spot at my neck he’d bitten. My hips rocked up of their own accord, pressing against the thick length of him.

Control? I had none. I was riding on pure sensation. I’d lost my freaking mind.

His lips made their way back to my mouth. His tongue lined my bottom lip before sweeping in again. I kissed him back with the same intensity, sliding my tongue over his. He rocked in between my legs, the seam of my jeans a marvelous friction with what he pressed there.

“Kol,” I breathed in desperation.

His fingers kneaded my breast. I rolled my pelvis up as he rubbed harder against me.

“Let go, Moira.”

Frantic, I tried to hold on to some sanity, not wanting to give in to him, not wanting to let go, but it was impossible. He swallowed my scream when my nerves fractured. I never screamed with Mikal. Of course, I didn’t always come with Mikal, either. And this wasn’t even sex. This was…make-out marking.

Breathing hard and beyond embarrassed at my shocking reaction to his body on top of mine, I closed my eyes, willing myself somewhere else as a hot pulse still throbbed between my legs. I forced my fingers loose, still clutched in his hair and the front of his shirt, panting like some wanton. His lips hovered above my own, unmoving, lingering. I refused to meet his gaze. After a moment, his wings folded against his back with a whoosh as he lifted off my body. Heavy steps as he walked across the study and opened the door.

Sitting up, I gazed down at my top, gaping with the loss of two buttons. Within a minute, Kol walked back into the room carrying my coat and scarf. He sauntered over and pulled me to my feet.

Handing me my scarf, a smirk fixed on his face, he said, “You might want to use this to uh…” He motioned to my gaping blouse.

Fuming, I wrapped and tied the scarf, covering my exposed cleavage because
he
had torn my shirt. But what could I say after the way I reacted to his mouth and hands all over my body. Mortified didn’t begin to describe how I felt as I yanked my coat from him and jerked it on, stomping for the door.

He caught me by the arm and whirled me around, leaning his head toward my neck.

“Stop it, Kol! Marking time is over.”

While trying to pry him off with no success, he gripped my other arm, keeping me still. Damn it, I needed more body boxing lessons. Holding me captive by the arms, he nuzzled into my make-out-messy hair.

“Stop it,” I gritted out.

“I’m just checking,” he crooned. I wanted to die.

His nose grazed my neck in a fleeting soft touch. I shivered. He straightened, a wicked-as-sin grin plastered on his face. “Good. I’m well and deep under that skin of yours.”

“Satisfied?”

He arched one dark brow as if to ask,
Are you?
I wanted to punch him in the face. For about the hundredth time.

“Not quite, Kittycat. But it’ll do. For now.”

I shrugged out of his hold. “Don’t even think there’ll be a repeat session, because there won’t be.”

I couldn’t help the bitterness that had dripped from my voice. He hadn’t violated me. He’d done worse. He’d made me lose complete control. He’d made me feel a shocking wave of pleasure unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my entire life, when I didn’t want it nor had I asked for it. I didn’t want to feel anything in that way. I didn’t want a man in my life at all. Complicating things, steering me in a direction of his choosing.

What was I even talking about? It was nothing. Just a scent-marking. For protection. And if I
was
looking for a lover, which I wasn’t, it sure as hell wouldn’t be the infuriating slab of cold marble standing before me.

“See you Friday, Kittycat.”

I stormed off, feeling slightly childish but unable to calm the anger brewing in my blood, the sound of masculine laughter behind me.

I needed to punch something. Hard.

My roundhouse kick hit Demetrius square in the chest. He flew back, landing with a thud for the fourth time. Heaving breaths, I reached out a hand to haul him up.

“Damn, Moira.” He puffed out between gulps of air. “You gonna tell me why you’re kicking the shit out of me?”

“No reason.” I panted. “Just got some excess energy.”

He picked up a towel from the bench outside the boxing square and wiped the sweat dripping down his face, slicking his black hair.

“Does this excess energy have a name? You seeing Mikal again?” He sat on the bench, downing a water bottle.

I settled next to him, wiping my neck and face with another towel. “No. Of course not. I told you that was over.”

I scowled deeper, annoyed with myself that I was so irritated about Kol, and I couldn’t hide it no matter how hard I tried.

“Yeah. But he still talks about you. I thought there might be—”

“Don’t go there, Demetrius. We’re not suited for each other.”

He stretched out his long legs, massaging his upper thigh where I’d probably given him a melon-sized bruise. He’d taught me a good maneuver to use when knocked to the ground and an opponent had the upper hand. I had proved I mastered the move when I kicked his ass.

He blew out a breath, slipping on a long-sleeved fleece. While hot and steamy up in our family’s parlor-turned-gym, outside, the temperatures were steadily dropping.

Demetrius had started giving me self-defense lessons when I was fifteen and growing into a young woman. Those lessons merged into weekly sparring sessions until he moved out of our parents’ home and found a place of his own with Shakara. And though I’d moved out a few years ago, we still chose to spar here. Old habits died hard. Or perhaps, there was some comfort in the familiar. No matter that this home held bitter memories and had created scars that might never truly heal for Demetrius, he always returned home and treated my father with respect, whether or not Father deserved it.

He aimed his brown eyes at me. “Not a guy. What then? School? Money?”

I shrugged, then retied my pony tail.

“Tell me,” he urged before draining his water bottle.

His snooping was well-intentioned. When Jessen had fallen for Lucius years ago, he’d sided with my father, driving a wedge between him and our sister. Though he regretted it, and they’d mended things, there was still an air of tension between him and Lucius. He just couldn’t help being the
big brother
.

“It’s nothing.” I slipped into my red hoodie.

“You know,” he said, combing a hand through his dark, sweat-drenched locks. “All you have to do is say the word, and Father will give you whatever you want. He still has a trust fund waiting for you whenever you’re ready to swallow your female pride.”

“It’s not money,” I said with too much disdain. “And you wouldn’t know the first thing about female pride.”

“Thank God,” he muttered.

I pushed him off the bench. He rolled and bounced to his feet, stifling a laugh. It was hard to be angry with Demetrius when he smiled, deep dimples in the corner. A sight I’d enjoyed more often since he married Shakara. Usually too sober for his own good, his smile could make the whole world feel right again.

“Seriously, Moira. You should give in to him a little. Let him help you.”

“Oh, like you did?”

“Father and I both finally came to our senses.” He smirked. “He’s an ornery, old ass who will never change his ways. And I’m a brilliant genius who finally decided to use my gifts accordingly and better the company. Win-win situation.”

“Yeah.” I snorted. “And from what I heard a stand-off that nearly split the company in half.” As well as the family.

He tilted his head, small frown in place. “When did you hear that?”

“I’m an investigative reporter. You thought I didn’t know you and him had a falling out when you started dating Shakara?”

His frown smoothed. His stature softened. A goofy smile spread across his face.

I threw a towel at his head. “Jeez, Demetrius. Go home to your wife. And stop pestering me.”

“With pleasure, dear sister.” He hiked his workout bag over his shoulder but didn’t move for the door. “Its money, isn’t it? Let me loan you some.”

“No.”

“Stubborn woman. How the hell did you get that way?”

“It’s in the genes. Trust me.”

As supervisor in the technology department of Cade Enterprises for the past four years, Demetrius had yielded more profits than the entire decade prior because of his intelligence and business savvy.

“I want to
earn
my way. Like you. Even though I have no idea how you came out of that family crisis smelling like a goddamn rose as the dutiful son.”

“Language, Moira. It’s not becoming of you.”

I slipped on thick workout pants over my tight boxing gear. “Since when is a girl of the aristocracy with a foul mouth
ever
becoming?”

“Touché. As to being the dutiful son, perhaps I am, but sometimes…” He wrapped the towel around his neck and clenched both ends. His eyes became glazed and distant, his countenance taking on that grave expression so typical of him. Funny. It reminded me of someone else with a frosty disposition.

“Sometimes?” I prompted.

“Sometimes duty does feel an awful lot like a cage. You’ve got to make sure your choices, even dutiful ones, are truly your own.”

That’s when I understood. Demetrius had once felt exactly as I did. And perhaps still did. He’d chosen to stay behind, to uphold the family legacy, to stay within the bars of Father’s control, while my sister liberated herself by marrying a Morgon. It wasn’t until Shakara came along and rocked his world that he finally broke free of Father’s cage.

“Well, whatever it is. Don’t let it bring you down. Life’s too short to dwell on the negative.”

“My brother, the optimist. Did hell freeze over and I missed it?”

He chucked his sweaty towel at me, hitting me in the face.

“Ewww!” I laughed.

“A smile. That’s better than the scowl you wore in here. The workout seemed to help your crappy mood.”

“It did.” It had helped even more when I imagined Kol’s face instead of my brother’s every time I pounded him. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Any time you need to beat someone up, just give me a call.”

With a wave, he was out the door. I finished dressing and made my way down the wide, spiral staircase. Mother was out doing errands. Edda, our family’s live-in servant since before I was born, greeted me at the bottom as she dusted the tall, wooden clock.

“Will you be joining the family for dinner on Friday? Your mother requested that you come.”

I sighed inwardly. My mother still bore hopes of me snagging the most eligible bachelor in town and becoming the model aristocratic hostess for the most posh of high society. Like her. Though I loved my mother, another one with good intentions gone awry, I would never be the daughter she wanted. To avoid the look of disappointment in her eyes, I avoided her as often as I could, especially in the setting she so wanted me to be a part of.

“No, Edda. I’m afraid not. I have something to do for work.”

“Of course.” Edda smiled, surely knowing I may or may not have something to do with work. It didn’t matter. I’d avoid the Cade party train as much as possible. “Well, work hard.” She winked.

“I will,” I promised as she bustled toward the kitchen.

I crossed the marble tile into the foyer, hearing papers shuffle from the front parlor. Frowning, I stepped in. Father was seated in the overstuffed chair next to the fire, reading the newspaper. This was the man I enjoyed spending time with, not the overbearing CEO I’d avoided at his office. At home, outside the realm of his professional kingdom, he was the man I wished he’d been during my childhood, before Jessen had left as the rebellious child he still spoke of with a pained expression. “Father?”