Dragon Wytch (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #4)

Dragon Wytch (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #4) Page 21

"Oh, I want you, Camille, make no mistake about that. And I always get what I want." He smiled then, so softly it frightened me. The smile of killers, of kings, of dark knights who rode in and lured away the princess from her prince. "But no, I will not fuck you. I leave that to Trillian. However, I will make love to you."

The cloud of tears threatened to spill over as I quivered, needing him so desperately I wanted to scream. I let out a choked cry.

"Don't you understand by now?" He slowly began to lower himself into me, and I let out a whimper as his flesh met mine, stretching me wide and deep. "I thought surely you would have guessed. I'm in love with you, Camille. And I choose you to be my mate."

He plunged then, driving himself deep, dragging me out of myself, onto the astral with him. As our bodies found their rhythm, our spirits coiled together, darting, dancing, sparkling with his every thrust, with my every reply.

And with one long, guttural cry, I understood what it meant to ride the dragon.

Chapter Fifteen

The room was very still as Smoky rested beside me. I stared at the ceiling, not knowing what to say.

"What are you thinking, love?" Smoky traced a finger down the side of my cheek, then bopped my nose. His eyes were luminous, glowing, and his words felt intimate in a way they never had before. Not just sexy-intimate, but heart-intimate.

I cleared my throat. What was I thinking? Good question. For one thing, I was starting to remember through my afterglow-hazed brain that he'd said something… something that… oh hell. I'm in love with you, Camille. And I choose you to be my mate. What was I supposed to do with that! Maybe if I ignored it, he'd forget he said it. Maybe it was just something he'd blurted out in the throes of passion. Didn't all men temporarily fall in love with the women they were fucking? Sex with Smoky had taken me beyond words, to a place I'd never been before. Hell, I could barely remember anything either one of us had said, let alone make sense of what was going on.

I pushed myself up, leaning back on my hands. My clothes were scattered around the room, along with Smoky's jeans and shirt. I stared down at my body, which was glowing with a rosy hue I seldom saw on my pale skin. Slowly, feeling almost shy, I turned toward him. Hands behind his head, he was whistling an aimless tune. His body was so long and lean and hard that he might be a sculpture. A sudden thought struck me, and I let out a giggle.

"What?" he asked, lazily squinting at me through half-closed eyes.

"I was just thinking, the David has nothing on you." It occurred to me that I'd be wise never to mention to Trillian just how well-endowed Smoky was, or I'd set off a testosterone war that wouldn't quit until one of them was dead. Size wasn't everything, but Smoky had both size and experience, and that would piss Trillian off to no end. But I wasn't complaining. That was for sure.

Smoky chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment." He shifted, turning toward me, and ran a light hand over my thigh. My body responded, and I realized I was still hungry for him. As if he could read my thoughts, he reached for my hand. I hesitantly let him lead my fingers to his penis. With pent breath, I traced one finger down him, closing my eyes as the silky shaft responded to the touch of my hand. Within seconds, he was ready again and, with a low growl, grabbed me by my waist and lifted me astride his hips. As he stoked my fires back to life, I sank onto his hardened length.

We rose and fell in rhythm, matching pace, matching strides. He reached up to stroke my breast with one hand as his hair coiled around my wrists and braced my back to hold me steady and give me balance and strength.

Once again, I slid into the slipstream of his passion as we rode the storm.

"We'd better get dressed. You have an appointment with the Crow Lady," Smoky said, leisurely rolling out of bed. He might as well be smoking a cigarette, he looked so relaxed. A gilt mirror on the wall captured my reflection, and I blinked—talk about looking relaxed. I was oozing with that after-sex glow that infuses every good tryst.

As I leaned over to pick up my skirt and panties, Smoky reached out and gave me a sharp smack on the butt. I whirled, on pure reflex, my hand whistling through the air before the thought occurred to me it might not be such a good idea. But Smoky was quicker than me, and before I could graze his cheek, he wrapped his hand around my wrist and held me firm.

"Camille…" A warning. I could hear it in his voice.

If it had been Trillian or Morio, I would have gone right ahead and dove headfirst into the fray. But then again, neither Trillian nor Morio would smack my butt, not unless I wanted them to. They knew better.

I gazed into Smoky's face. Time to backpedal. Fast. The old standard about gorillas worked for dragons, too. Where do you let an eight hundred pound gorilla go? Anywhere he wants. What do you do if a two-ton dragon spanks you? Say, "Thank you very much."

But being me, I couldn't just let it drop. "Why the hell did you slap my ass? That sure wasn't a love pat. Do you get off on spanking? Because I don't. Well… at least not usually." I tensed, waiting, but he just laughed.

"Just a reminder for you to behave yourself. For now, you're my consort, and you will behave as such. Don't forget it. Now get dressed, and I'll fix you something to eat. There are… amenities… behind the screen," he added, pulling on a long white robe that I'd seen him wear around the land.

Cripes. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Best to leave it alone. Maybe I'd just wait till I got home to remind him that it wasn't considered good manners to smack your consort on the butt that hard unless you were both into playing yes-sir, no-sir. Come to think of it, he probably was into it. Yep, once out that portal, I could say anything I wanted, but until then… he might not let me leave if I ticked him off.

He cleared his throat and whispered, "Braid." At that moment, his hair divided into three sections, and they began to plait themselves into the long braid I was used to seeing him wear.

"Man, that hair of yours can do just about everything, can't it?" I said without thinking.

He leisurely shrugged. "It's expedient. When we have more time, you can brush it for me."

I felt suddenly shy for some reason. "I'd like that."

"Let's just say my hair is a very vital part of me. Neither I nor it allow others to touch it. With the rare exception, that is," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. Before he finished speaking, the strands had finished braiding themselves and hung straight, firmly woven. Smoky left the room, closing the door behind him.

As I watched him go, it occurred to me that while the reality had lived up to and overshadowed the fantasy part of life With dragon dude, I hadn't considered our interaction beyond the bedroom. Vaguely disconcerted, I picked up my clothes and tossed them on the bed.

I peeked behind the screen. There was a marble tub, but no sign of any running water. A toilet had been built over an odorless hole in the ground. The seat was spotless, ornately carved in polished oak. A bowl and matching pitcher sat on a vanity table. The pitcher was filled with rose-scented water, and soft, fresh towels were folded beside it, along with glycerin soap.

At least he was a good host. Since I could find no practical method of filling the tub, I took a sponge bath with a washcloth and soap.

When I emerged from the alcove, I found the bag containing my other clothing sitting on the bed. I shook out a long velvet gown, low-cut and black as the night sky, and slid into fresh panties, a Victoria's secret bra with the firmest support I could find, and the dress. I fastened the buckles on my ankle boots before peeking out of the bedroom.

Smoky was in the living room, waiting for me. His eyes slid over me, and he let out a slow breath. "Camille…" He swept me into his arms and met my lips in a delicate kiss. "You take my breath away," he whispered. "Is it any wonder I can't get you out of my thoughts?"

I swallowed the lump growing in my throat. Obsession was a scary thing. But it could also be a heady elixir, and Smoky's charm was a powerful spell. I felt like I was standing on a razor's edge, a web spun by three men, all of whom I loved—in one way or another—and I wanted each and every one of them in my life. Just neatly organized, not standing around beating their chests like some manic episode of Tarzan Gone Wild.

He tucked my hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger in turn. "Dinner is served," he said, extending his arm.

The lump in my throat began to melt as my reluctance began to slide. Would it be so terribly bad to be the consort of a dragon? Backtrack real fast, I thought. Playmate was one thing. Consort held far too many implications. I was a soldier's daughter, not some lady of the manor. Feeling distinctly out of place, I rested my hand on his elbow. He folded his other hand over mine, then escorted me through the door opposite.

The kitchen was as large as the bedroom. A woodstove, polished to a high sheen, crackled with warmth. An old-fashioned icebox stood in the corner.

I stared at the icebox. "You have electricity out here in the barrow?"

"Does it look like I do?" He shook his head, grinning. "Think, girl. I'm white and silver dragon. I may breathe fire, but my magic's based in ice, wind, and snow."

Duh. Chalk one up for playing the airhead, I thought. And I couldn't even claim blonde as an excuse. As I looked around, I noticed a table against one wall. Carved from a solid block of marble, with two matching chairs, it was set for two. I wandered over to it.

"Old-world china, place mats, Waterford crystal… you don't stint, do you?" I held up one of the goblets and very gently ran my finger around the edge. It rang, loud and clear. "I suppose you've had a long time to collect all of this. How old are you, Smoky? How long have you lived out here?"

"I hope you like steak," he said, ignoring my questions. "I happened to be passing by a cattle ranch yesterday, and there was this plump heifer standing there…"

Blinking, I abruptly put down the goblet. "Yes, I like steak. You eating with me, or did you gobble yours down raw?" Somehow, I didn't think a twelve-ounce sirloin was enough to stave off a dragon's appetite. Even with baked potato and all the trimmings. Maybe with cheesecake on the side, I mused.

He snorted. "I'm offering you an elegant dinner here. Work with me, girl." As I stared at him expectantly, he let out a long sigh. "You're exasperating. I think that's why I love you. To answer your question, yes, yesterday I ate most of the heifer. After I butchered off meat for the steaks and for barbecued ribs."

"Barbecue? You like barbecue?" I took my place at the table, letting him slide my chair out for me. I wasn't trying to be difficult. To be honest, I just wanted to get outside and talk to Morgaine. I was starting to feel claustrophobic. Underground was not my favorite place to be.

"Of course. I especially like hickory smoke flavor." He dished up our dinners. A good thick steak, some fried potatoes. I had the feeling he didn't eat many vegetables. I could manage without the carrots and peas. I was just grateful he hadn't left the beef on the hoof.

All through dinner, he talked and I listened, feeling like I was in some surreal dream. The Cleavers with a warped twist. Except I didn't vacuum in pearls, and Smoky blew Ward out of the water.

"Saint George has been having a bad spell," he said. "Estelle had to sedate him twice last week. I wonder what makes a human snap like that. She said that, as far as she knows, he was like that from birth. Always off chasing windmills. And dragons." He touched his lips with his napkin. "Would you like some wine?"

"Thank you, yes." As he filled my glass, I examined the label. It was old and rare, probably worth thousands, and he was pouring it into our goblets like it was water. I cleared my throat, trying to keep my thoughts on the conversation. "Georgio is luckier than most in his condition. Which reminds me. Tomorrow I have an appointment to see Ben Welter. At three P.M. I can't be late."

"I'll make sure you get home in plenty of time," he said. "You need to leave at daybreak in order to talk to Delilah, I assume?" A faint glower washed over his face.

I nodded. "Yes. Smoky, may I ask you something?"

"Of course. I might not answer, but you can always ask."

I slid my knife through the steak. It was fork-tender and cut like butter. Taking a deep breath, I said, "What will you do if Shadow Wing breaks through?"

He shrugged. "Probably retreat to the Northlands for awhile. Why? Are you worried I'd leave you? Don't be. You'd go with me, of course, and your sisters. I'll take Iris, and Delilah's man, and I'll even take the fox, if you like. I might consider rescuing Trillian, but that depends on how he behaves—"

Cutting him off at the pass, I shook my head. "You know very well that we couldn't go. My sisters and I are the only defense between Earth and the demons. We made a pact. We're in this for the long haul. I was hoping you'd stay and fight on our side."

He blinked, staring at me silently. Finally, he said, "We'll discuss the situation later, should it become necessary. Now, finish your meal, love, and then I want you to go talk to that blasted sorceress. I have errands to do this evening. When you've found out what you need to, come straight back to the barrow. Wait for me outside if I'm not home yet. Whatever you do, don't go wandering off the path without me."

I slowly finished the last bite of my steak and wiped my lips, not sure what I felt. Smoky was an incredible lover, and I considered him a good friend, but his continual use of the word love was beginning to scare me a little. When we'd first met, he'd threatened to carry me off, saying no one could stop him. Had that been a precursor of things to come?