Coercion: Book One of Three: A BBW Serial Romance (Montana Dragons 1) (4 page)

W
illa turned
the shower on full blast and stood before the sink, sucking in slow, calming breaths. The sound of the water running and the heat of the steam soothed her enough that she finally stopped seeing red, but it was a close thing.

With a sigh, she swiped a hand over the now-fogged mirror. Dazed, brown eyes gazed back at her and she found herself wishing she could give that poor girl a hug. She needed it, bad.

Even the giant glass of brandy hadn’t helped. To be fair though, it had been a hell of a day. In fact, she was pretty proud of herself. She hadn’t completely fallen apart yet, and that was a win.

She heard a door open nearby and imagined it was Drake leaving her some clothes as he’d promised. He was a puzzle, to be sure. She couldn’t help but wonder if, under normal circumstances, she could have liked him.

There was no question he was hot. Like, crazy, balls to the wall, sex on a stick, hot. So hot, she couldn’t exactly figure what he seemed to like about her so much. But he definitely liked her. Or wanted her, at least. At times, his gaze was so intense, it was like he wanted to consume her. And, if she was being honest with herself, part of her wanted him to.

But the bigger part of her wanted the hell out.

It wasn’t just fear of the unknown. It was the principle of the thing. She wasn’t some side of beef to be traded, and she didn’t want to tie herself to a man who’d been in on the trading process.

So what now?

She thought back to the moment she’d stepped out of her parents’ car and wished to god she’d grabbed her purse. At least then she’d have her cell phone. Although, this high up and as far as they were from civilization, who knew if she would have even gotten service.

She thought about reaching out mentally to her parents, but couldn’t bring herself to even ask for their help. They’d broken her heart and killed the last bit of affection she’d had for them.

No, the next time she spoke to them, it would be to force them to nullify whatever bogus paperwork they’d drawn up. So much for family. Drake was right. She really didn’t have anywhere to go.

But she sure as shit couldn’t stay here.

Just thinking about that big bed, that big man, his big…throne. She let out a groan and glanced over her shoulder at the window behind her. There was one other option, but if Drake could be believed, it was going to hurt.

She sidled toward the window, breath suspended. Could be that Drake didn’t know any more about her kind than she did his. Maybe he’d underestimated her physical prowess, and assumed she--

Her mouth went bone dry as she peered through the pane. It was speckled with fat drops of rain, but she could see well enough to tell that Drake wasn’t exaggerating even a little.

It was a serious drop to the ground.

One that would definitely cause some damage if she had to scramble onto the sill and dive out head first in wolf form.

But, if she didn’t shift…if she stayed in human form, she could climb out and hang on by her hands, letting her legs dangle. It would be a shorter drop to the ground, and at least she’d land on her feet. If luck was with her, the ground would be dirt rather than stone, and provide a soft-ish landing.

Shifters were hearty and superfast healers even in human form. So long as she didn’t do as he’d warned and break her back or her fool neck, she would be able to shake off hairline fractures or cuts lickety-split.

She scurried to the door and turned the knob silently before snatching up the t-shirt and shorts Drake had left for her. Not the ideal outfit for scaling down the side of the mountain, but at least if she came upon any people once she reached civilization, she wouldn’t be in a robe like an escaped asylum patient or naked like some feral child of the woods.

She yanked the boxers on and tossed the robe aside before tugging the t-shirt over her head. For a second, her senses swam as Drake’s scent enveloped her.

God, did he smell good. And his shirt was so soft…

She’d barely completed the thought when his words came back to her in a rush.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t make that promise.”

He wouldn’t even give her an inch.

She stiffened and crossed the room to stand before the window. He’d left her little choice in the matter.

This might be her only chance at escape, and she was going to take it.

D
rake tossed
another log into the fire and glanced at his watch impatiently.

She’d only been in there for thirty minutes. He had grown up with two sisters and knew for a fact, no woman could shower and prep for bed more quickly than that. And after the day she’d had, he was loath to bother her when she so clearly needed a few minutes to herself. But, damn did he want her to come out now.

Before that last little blow up, they’d been getting somewhere. They’d even shared a peaceful meal together. If he could just get her settled enough to explain some things to her, he was sure she would see this his way.

He stalked over to the wide window that split the infinity pool, and peered into the darkness. A bolt of lightning fractured the sky and lit up the night in a silver glow.

It was coming down like cats and dogs out there. Maybe once Willa saw how bad the weather was, she would be glad to have a roof over her head for the night.

He let the image of her fill his mind and closed his eyes. Her parents hadn’t done her justice. They’d said she was “presentable”, which, at the time, he’d taken to be parental license meaning that she wasn’t attractive. What he’d found, though, was that she far surpassed the bar he’d set.

She was straight up gorgeous.

Then, they’d said she was “smart enough”. But there again, they’d missed the mark. Her eyes were sharp with intelligence, and she had already shown a quick wit.

Lastly, they’d played on his dragon sensibilities, and told him she was brave. That much was true. Although she’d been startled, and afraid over and over again, she’d stood toe to toe with him when pushed.

Aye, she was brave, all right. Almost to the point of recklessness, even--

His stomach lurched and his eyes snapped open.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled under his breath.

His long strides ate up the floor as he cut a path to the bathroom door. The fact that steam flowed from the crack beneath it, and the shower still ran meant nothing to him.

His little wolf might have only been his for a couple of hours now, but he knew it as sure as he knew his own name.

She had jumped.

He smashed the door down with one fist, letting out a roar of fear and rage. If she was hurt…if he found her crumpled beneath that window, not moving? He would never forgive himself.

And he would make sure her parents wished they were dead when he was through with them.

He barreled into the room, not even sparing a glance at the shower. Without pause, he bounded toward the open window and dove out, head first.

He didn’t make any attempt to slow his dead plummet to the ground until, at the last second, right before impact, he exploded into his dragon form to hover.

Frantically, he scanned the ground for any sign of Willa, but she was nowhere to be found.

He sucked in a breath through his nose, and blew out hard, illuminating the darkness with molten orange fire. The mud on the ground wall around him was smeared, and a pair of tiny footprints led toward the cliff behind him.

He tried to think past the terror gripping him, but it was no easy task. Just because the leap hadn’t killed her didn’t mean that a fall from any of the wet and slippery rocks wouldn’t.

And that was if she was lucky.

If Etienne had scented her?

Drake refused to think on it for another second. Wheeling around in mid-air, he flapped his mighty wings and let out a fierce snarl.

S
he heard
him long before she saw him. His roar reverberated through her whole body, like an electric shock, and she froze, scrabbling wildly at the narrow ledge she’d been perched on.

She wiped the rain from her eyes and looked back at her progress in disbelief. She’d been climbing for what felt like an hour and she’d only made it fifty feet down the side of the mountain. It was another hundred before she could even hope to reach flatter, less rocky terrain and get her wolf on.

What a fool. After managing the jump, she thought she’d had a chance, but this plan had been doomed from the start. All she had proven was that she was no match for her captor, and now she was truly beaten.

Her teeth were chattering with terror, her muscles were sore, and she was soaked to the bone. When a dark shape obliterated her view of the night sky, she almost felt relieved.

But as incandescent golden eyes locked on hers, that relief vanished in a heart-stopping dump of straight adrenaline.

She screamed as the rest of a massive, emerald green dragon came into view, wings beating hard enough to send gusts of wind and rain slapping at her skin. The animal swooped in, talons extended, and she squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for the searing pain that was sure to come as her flesh was torn from her bones

But the pain never came. Instead, a terrible roar shook the very mountain she stood on, sending rocks skittering down into the ether. Another sound, this one like two trucks colliding at top speed, thundered through the air and she forced herself to look.

There he was. Drake Blackbourne locked in what appeared to be mortal combat with her would-be attacker.

He clawed at his opponent, and then struck hard with his whip-like tail, landing a blow to the other animal’s midsection. The green dragon went reeling backward with a snarl before lunging toward him again. The fight lasted only seconds as Drake blew out a stream of fire the length of a football field, stopping the other dragon in mid-air.

A moment seemed to pass between the creatures, and, sparing one last glance at Willa, the great, green beast veered left and flew off into the night.

Her heart was pounding so hard, it beat a tattoo on her ribs as she tried to process what she’d seen.

She’d thought that dragons didn’t exist in the United States and now there were two in her state alone. Could there possibly be more of them?

She didn’t have long to ponder that thought as Drake glided toward her. His eyes were still hot with fury, but when he scooped her up, his hold was gentle. As they made the short flight back to the keep, guilt pricked her hard. She hadn’t listened to his warnings and look what had happened. What if he had gotten hurt or injured in that fight? That would be her fault.

Her remorse was short-lived, though, as the reality of it all set in. Sure, maybe she shouldn’t have taken a header out the window. And sure, maybe she’d been careless to try to run off the side of the mountain in the middle of the night in a thunderstorm. But none of this would be happening if he hadn’t been so pig-headed and just let her leave when she’d asked him to or, better yet, had offered to help her get back to the real world.

By the time he set her on the floor of the great room entrance, she was seething all over again. And the anger felt good. Anything that replaced the hollow feeling inside her and the sheer hopelessness of it all was a plus right now.

She was pissed, and the object of her fury was right in front of her.

She shoved back a hank of wet hair and glared at him. “I suppose you expect me to thank you?”

His massive dragon’s body twisted and, with a crunch of bone and a snap of sinew, he became a man before her eyes.

Or, something close to it
, she corrected mentally. Clearly, he wasn’t exactly happy with her, either, because he looked almost as wild and fearsome as his beast.

He was also naked again, and she turned quickly and edged nearer to the fire. Wolves were fairly hot-blooded, but damn if she wasn’t chilled to the bone.

No thanks to Drake.

She tied her hair into a knot at the base of her neck, and then stretched her icy hands out over the flames. She didn't have to turn around to know that he hadn't left. That he was there, looming over her from the archway.

Her guardian.

Her captor.

“You cannot do that ever again, little wolf.” His voice was thick with emotion, most of it anger, but some of it was something else she couldn’t name. Whatever it was sent her pulse fluttering wildly, and that only pissed her off more.

"Why do you keep calling me that?” She wheeled around to glare at him, relieved to see that he was quickly donning another robe. “I have a mirror, you know. And I'm very aware that I'm far from little."

In fact, she was an anomaly. Most wolf-shifters were lean. Their metabolisms were rocket-fast and burned off food even as they ate it. But not Willa. She'd been born plump and stayed that way her whole life. Her baby fat turned to grown up curves that had vexed her.

Yet another reason why she'd been content with Greyson as her intended mate. It wasn’t like the rest of the werewolves were going to be beating down her doorway if she was single.

But now, with Drake’s liquid green eyes practically eating her alive with lust, even as angry as he was, it was hard to recall why she should have settled for content.

Stop it, you fool. For all you know dragons will sleep with anything that has a pulse.

Even as she thought it, something told her differently.

He wanted her.
Her,
specifically. She might not understand why, but it was the truth.

"You’re little to me. Hell, you’re little to any dragon. And, as you’ve seen, I'm not the only one of us on this mountain, Willa.” He took a step closer and speared a hand through his dark, wet hair. “You can’t do that. You can’t try to escape like that, ever again. Until our marriage is consummated and you are marked with my scent, you're in danger when you’re not with me. He could’ve--” Drake broke off and blew out a sigh. “Look, I promised I wouldn’t touch you if you didn’t want me to, and I won’t. You have my word. But at the very least, you need to share my bed. The closer we are, the more you’ll absorb my scent. It will give you some measure of protection.”

Like any animal, the thought of being trapped made her blood boil and triggered a panic response, but there was literally nothing she could do about it right now. She’d pulled out every stop, but he’d cornered her at every turn. He was never going to let her go…

She was so damned tired. Tired of being a pawn. Tired of listening to what everyone else told her to do. Tired of being a victim of circumstance.

She turned and looked into the flames but his gaze was like a physical weight on her body. Even without seeing, she could feel it there, practically lasering into her as she scooted nearer to the fire again.

“I promised I wouldn’t touch you if you didn’t want me to, and I won’t. You have my word.”

And suddenly, it all clicked into place. Maybe she wasn’t powerless, after all. She had one very dangerous weapon in her arsenal. She hadn’t recognized it straightaway because she’d never wielded it before, but there was no question she possessed it.

If Drake Blackbourne didn’t want to let her go, she was going to make him pay for keeping her here.

It was a risk, to be sure. What if he broke the dragon code? What if his word wasn’t his bond?

A sizzle of fear slid through her, but she tamped it down.

He hadn’t lied to her so far, and she was willing to take the risk. Because right now, the only thing that mattered was wresting some control, any control, over this situation from her captor. Her mental health depended on it.

Still facing the fire, she wet her lips and then reached for the waistband of her boxers. Heart knocking, she tugged them slowly down over her rounded hips.

Drake’s harsh intake of breath gave her that last push, that one extra dose of bravado she needed to continue.

She bent low to shimmy the shorts past her knees and then let them drop to the stone floor.

“Willa…”

Drake’s voice sounded like he’d been sucking on glass and a surge of adrenaline blasted through her. It felt good.

Like strength. Like power.

She let her fingers drift to the hem of the t-shirt she wore. Up until now, this was a test run. The shirt was long, and covered her to mid-thigh, but once it was off, she would be truly bared to him.

She focused on keeping her hands from trembling and then slowly, inch by inch, she pulled the t-shirt up. Past her bottom, to her waist, and then finally, over her head and off. She stood, back straight, posture proud as she waited to see what he would do now.

For a long while, there was no sound. No movement. It seemed like even the air had frozen. All she could hear was the crackling of the flames in front of her and the sound of her pulse in her ears.

Finally, his deep voice rumbled behind her. "I don’t know what game you’re playing, little wolf, but I've put up with enough of your antics tonight."

She forced the nerves fluttering in her belly to calm and craned her head to peer over her shoulder. The intensity of his gaze sent a shudder through her that she barely managed to suppress.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Drake. My clothes were soaked and I’m freezing. If you don’t approve, you can leave the room.”

He shook his head slowly and folded his arms over his chest. "You can't be trusted on your own. Clearly, you need a caretaker."

His words fanned the flames of her little rebellion even higher. “Like a child?” she asked, keeping her tone low and even. She turned slightly, angling her body so that her breasts would be visible in profile.

"No. Not like a child at all." His gaze trailed down her neck and lower, causing her nipples to draw tight into peaks. His jaw flexed and he let out a low growl. “Like a woman who doesn’t think before she acts.”

The triumph she felt at his obvious struggle was tempered by the fact that she wasn’t nearly as unaffected as she pretended to be. Maybe it was time to call back the troops. Retreat and live to fight another day. Because even now, as his firm mouth tightened into a grim line, she found herself wondering what it would feel like. What he would taste like. And if he sensed that, she was doomed. The last thing she needed was to allow this man yet another inch of power over her.

He chose that moment to take a step toward her, pointing to the pile of clothes on the floor. "You've had your fun. Now put your fucking clothes back on, Willa.” His voice was low and menacing. Exactly what she needed to get her head back in the game.

She didn't bother to respond. Instead, she sucked in her stomach and turned to face him full on.

Willa Stone, buck-naked, all up in this place, motherfucker. Read it and weep.

"Do not push me, woman.” The words sounded like they were ripped from his throat, and victory coursed through her like an elixir, lighting up every nerve ending in its path. “If you don't dress right now, I--"

"You'll what?" she whispered. “You wouldn’t touch me, Drake, would you? Because you promised you wouldn’t.”

His green eyes glinted and every inch of him was flexed and poised, ready for action.

It should have scared her, but instead, her body tightened and a low pressure began to build in her belly.

"I said I wouldn’t touch you, unless you wanted me to,” he corrected softly. He stared at her for a long moment before tipping his head back. His nostrils flared as he scented the air. “And say what you will, little wolf.” His voice had dropped to a heated whisper. “I can smell it. Your desire.” He took another step toward her, and then another.

A pulse of need shivered through her and she bit her lip hard. Her physical reaction had nothing to do with him. Nothing at all. She was not herself. She was tired, and emotionally drained. Not to mention, she’d had no less than three near-death experiences in the past few hours. And she’d never had a man look at her this way. It was like his gaze devoured her whole. Exactly as she’d wanted.

But the longer this went on, the more she questioned exactly who she was torturing.

"Convincing you wouldn't be hard," he said softly, now close enough that she could see every line of his face by the light of the fire. "The hard part would be controlling myself."

She blinked, suddenly all too aware of exactly how dry her throat had become. "You're awfully confident."

She allowed her gaze to trail down his body. Her eyes caught on the very clear evidence of his desire tenting his robe, and another wave of heat rushed between her thighs.

"This is your final warning, wife. Put on the clothes.”

It was an ominous whisper. She was in clear and present danger of being ravaged. She could stand her ground or she could give in.

"No."

He padded toward her and, with each step, his scent grew stronger. Crisp, like the scent of the air before snowfall and a freshly lit fire. Subtle, but completely distinct. She breathed it in deeply despite the fear and twisted sense of anticipation curling in her belly.

"Why is it that you never listen?” he demanded, when he was finally close enough to touch her. “Is that a cherished quality among your kind?”

She worked her throat, trying to keep it from sticking together, and fell back on the bravado that was feeling more forced by the second. "If I’m so difficult, then why does it look like you’re smuggling a zucchini in your robe?”

"Believe me, that has nothing to do with your personality." His hand closed around her hip, and she found herself leaning into him as if in a trance. "It’s pure physical attraction." His fingers dug into her hips. "These curves." He traced along her rib cage, and then rolled his knuckles along the underside of her breasts. "These breasts. I can’t help the way my body reacts to you.”

He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close. So close that she could feel the heat of his rock-hard erection against her belly, and she was torn between running for the hills and reaching down between them to cup him in her hand.