Dragon Bound

ELEVEN

She fell into a cramped, fitful doze, propping her head on one arm as she leaned against a curved claw. Come to think of it, it was quite a bit like trying to nap in an airplane seat. The change in their altitude woke her up. She straightened with a wince and looked around. New York lay spread out all around her. The panoramic splash of lights in the deepening dusk stabbed at her eyes. She winced and rubbed her face in an attempt to wake up.

Dragos banked and wheeled in a great circle. They were headed for one of the tallest skyscrapers. She groaned as her stomach lurched. Then they dropped onto the launchpad on the roof of Cuelebre Tower.

She looked around, dazed, and tried to stand without staggering when Dragos set her on her feet. The roof was a huge expanse of space, more than adequate for handling someone of Dragos’s size with room for the takeoffs and landings of other creatures at the same time.

A group of people stood waiting by a set of double doors. In front of them a tawny-haired man stood with feet planted apart and arms crossed. A feral-looking beautiful woman stood beside him, hands on her hips. A Native American–looking man stood a little apart from the others in a black sleeveless leather vest and black jeans, with black hair cut short with shaved whirls of pattern throughout it and tattooed, muscular arms.

Every last one of them bristled with weapons. They all stood six feet tall or over. None of them looked like someone she would be comfortable running into in a back alley.

The air behind her shimmered with Power. She looked over her shoulder as Dragos changed, every ounce of the dragon’s force and energy compacted into the tall, muscular shape of the man. By some trick of the magic in the change, he still wore his battered grimy jeans and boots and nothing else. She looked from his bare chest up into that blade-cut face and raptor’s eyes and lost her breath all over again.

He took her by the arm and strode with her to the group waiting by the doors. Her face heated as curious, unfriendly eyes assessed her.

“’Bout time you showed up,” said the tawny-haired man. He jerked his chin toward the Native American. “I sent to South America for Tiago and some of the cavalry. You all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Dragos. Two of the men held the doors open. Dragos ignored the open elevator doors and took the stairs. She had no choice but to trot along by his side. The others followed. “Conference in ten minutes. Is the room ready?”

What room? Her room? Pia looked at him sidelong as they hit the landing for the penthouse floor.

“All set,” said the tawny man just behind her. Most of the rest had broken away from them to go to the conference room.

They swept down a large hallway, turned and went down another. The halls had luxurious marbled floors. Original works of art hung placed on recession-lit walls. She craned her neck. Wait—was that a painting by Chagall?

Dragos stopped in front of a blond wood door. He pushed it open and walked her inside. The tawny male and two others stayed in the hall by the door.

Pia looked around. She got a blurred impression of a room that was larger than a small house. Her filthy sneakers sank into plush white carpet. A freestanding fireplace and sunken living area with pale leather couches and armchairs was at one end. A black wrought-iron framed bed the size of a boat was at the other end, piled with pillows and quilts. An immense plasma flat-screen hung on one wall, and a wet bar was tucked into an alcove. Another wall was nothing but floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows with French doors. Open doors led off to walk-in closets and a bathroom.

He turned her around to face him and tilted up her chin. She looked up at him, round-eyed and wary. “I know how tired you are,” he said in a quiet voice. “I want you to stay here, take a hot bath and rest. Everything you should need is here, clothes, drinks, and I’m going to have a hot meal sent up for you. All right?”

In some ways this present landscape was more alien than the Other land had been. The tangled mess inside of her got even more snarled. She was half afraid of him again, but at the same time she didn’t want him to leave. She bit her lips, clenched her fists to keep from reaching out to him or appearing too high-maintenance. She gave him a jerky nod.

He put a hand at the back of her neck, a heavy, warm weight, his face tightening. He said, as if she had argued, “I’ve been talking with Rune as we approached the city. We’ve been gone a week. I’ve got to brief them on what happened.”

“There must be a million things you’ve got to do,” she said. She pulled out of his hold, crossed her arms around her middle and stepped away from him. “I can’t imagine.”

He stood with his hand suspended in midair, frowning at her. She caught a glimpse of the hallway where the tawny male who must be Rune stood, along with two other great hulking males. All three were staring at Dragos as if they didn’t recognize him.

He turned on his heel and strode out. He said, “Bayne, Con, stay here. Get her anything she wants.”

“Right,” said one of the men. He exchanged a glance with the other man. “Anything she wants.”

Dragos disappeared with Rune, leaving her alone in the great gorgeous barn of a room with two men at the door.

Armed guards. Guess she had one question answered. She was a prisoner.

One of them took hold of the door handle and nodded to her, his weather-beaten face expressionless. “We’ll knock when your meal comes,” he told her. “Do you need anything right now?”

“No, thank you,” she said from a dry throat. “I’m fine.”

Her guard shut the door and left her alone.

She turned in a circle, taking everything in. The empty room was draped in shadows that deepened with the onset of dusk. The strange penthouse luxury seemed colder and hollower without the vitality of Dragos’s presence. She rubbed her arms and shivered.

She slipped off her disgusting sneakers and put them on the tiled floor just inside a bathroom that was bigger than the whole of her apartment. Then she padded over to the alcove that hid the wet bar.

Though small, it was stocked with a wide assortment of liquor, all top of the line, of course. She paused, distracted by the collection. She had always wanted to try a glass of Johnnie Walker Blue. There was a coffee machine on the counter and a sink. Underneath the counter was a half-sized refrigerator. She checked the contents. Bottles of Evian water and Perrier, beer and lager, various juices, white wine and champagne.

She took out two bottles of water. She gulped down the Evian. Then with her thirst somewhat assuaged, she opened the Perrier and drank that more slowly.

The fireplace was a real one, not gas. It was immaculate and laid with a neat stack of wood, ready to start. A box of long matches sat by a TV remote on the coffee table in front of two of the couches. She gave in to temptation and lit the fire. The yellow flicker of the flames helped to dispel some of the room’s chill emptiness.

Next she crept into a walk-in closet and dressing room. One side was filled with male clothes. The other side was filled with her clothes.

From her apartment.

She pushed through the hangers and opened up the dresser drawers. Her underwear, socks, T-shirts and shorts, all immaculate, all pressed and folded.

She held up a small neat bundle that was a pair of white panties. Some stranger had washed her underwear—and ironed it?

The same was true for the clothes on the hangers. Her shoes were no longer in a pile but polished and stored in order. Her small cedar jewelry chest was on one of the dressers. She opened it and grew teary at the sight of her mother’s antique necklace. She stroked the necklace, then shut the chest with care and leaned against the dresser.

This was both creepy and . . . thoughtful. Finding familiar things was comforting at the same time as it scared her half to death.

When had he given the order to collect her things? Had it been at the beach house when he called Rune? He had said he had told Rune to get a vegetarian cook. When had he decided to move her things into his room?

She grabbed a T-shirt, sports bra and panties and a pair of flannel boxer shorts. She went into the bathroom. She could spend a week having a vacation just in the bathroom alone. There was a bathtub the size of a small pool with steps and bench seats, and there were unopened bottles of Chanelscented bubble bath. Her toiletries and makeup were laid out on the marble counter by the sink. New bottles of the shampoo and conditioner brand she liked were in the shower stall.

Someone had apparently thought of everything, every last freaking thing, except for asking her opinion about any of it. What a gilded cage.

Even though Dragos had urged her to take a hot bath, she felt too vulnerable and unsettled to relax. Just as she had at the beach house, she locked the bathroom door before she stripped.

The shower was several feet in size with a bench seat and multiple heads. After she figured out how to turn it on, she stood under the multiple streams of water with her eyes closed until the warmth soaked away all the strength in her legs. She sat on the bench as she lathered and conditioned her hair and scrubbed at her body until it felt like she had taken a layer of skin off. After rinsing, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried and dressed. Rational or not she felt better as soon as she had clean clothes on.

When she walked out of the bathroom, she found that a serving cart/portable dining table and a chair had been set near the windows. There was a heavy white linen tablecloth and simple but elegant tableware and dishes with silver covers. A small bottle of white wine chilled in an ice bucket. Consumed with hunger, she uncovered all the dishes.

She found a delicate lemon asparagus risotto sprinkled with slivered almonds, a salad with mixed greens, sliced pears and dried cranberries, fresh baked bread with individual packets of soy margarine and blueberry crumble for dessert. She fell on the food and devoured every last delicious bite.

After getting clean, comfortable and filling her stomach, she had no room for alarm or offense. She couldn’t even keep her eyes open. She managed to brush her teeth before she crawled between the sheets of the massive bed. As prisons went, this one would be mighty hard to beat. She yawned, gave up trying to think and fell asleep.

On the next floor down, Dragos strode into the conference room, followed by Rune. Located a short, convenient distance down the hall from his offices, it was a large executive boardroom, with black leather seats, an expansive polished oak table and state-of-the-art teleconferencing equipment.

All his sentinels were present with the exception of the two gryphons Bayne and Constantine, who stood guard at Pia’s door. Rune took a seat by the fourth gryphon, Graydon, and tilted his chair back. Tiago leaned against the far wall, a dark brooding presence. Aryal sprawled and tapped her fingers on the table. She never quite managed a motionless state unless she was hunting prey. The gargoyle Grym angled his chair so he could watch Aryal.

Tricks, the faerie known as Thistle Periwinkle, Cuelebre’s head of PR, sat with her arms and legs crossed at the other end of the table. Her lavender cloud of hair, sporting a four-hundred-dollar haircut, was disheveled. She jiggled one tiny foot and chain-smoked.

Dragos, like Tiago, didn’t take a seat. Instead he went to lean back against the oak counter at the head of the room. He kicked one foot over the other and folded his arms, tucked his chin in and brooded at the floor.

He didn’t like how he felt. He didn’t like it one fucking bit. He felt jittery and restless at leaving Pia alone. The feeling increased with every step he took away from her and with every minute that trickled by. She had looked very lost and alone standing in the middle of that big empty room.

He didn’t like how she had looked at him either, like he was an unpredictable puzzle she couldn’t decipher. Or a bomb that might go off in her face. She had looked at him with uncertainty, distrust. With something very close to fear again.

She had pulled away from him.

It was unacceptable. But before he could go and take care of whatever was brewing in her head, he had to do this first.

He lifted his gaze and looked around the occupants in the room. They were all watching him and waiting.

“Hey, Tricks,” he said to the chain-smoking faerie. “Your uncle Urien says hi.”

Tricks started swearing, her urchinlike features contorted. She stabbed a half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray. “What did the bastard do this time?”

Rune said, “Everybody knows what happened up to the point when you called from South Carolina. We’ve been dealing with the Elven fallout. They’ve invoked a trade and business embargo with anything to do with Cuelebre Enterprises, along with all other known Wyr businesses. They also swore they escorted you and the woman to the Elven border. They’re insisting on knowing what happened to her.”

“You mean, aside from housing the criminal in a penthouse suite and hiring a private chef for her? Yeah, we’re talking cruel and unusual punishment,” Aryal whispered to Grym, but Dragos’s sharp hearing caught it anyway. He chose to ignore it for now.

“They did escort us to the border. That’s true as far as it goes,” he said. He told them the rest, omitting what happened in private between him and Pia, and glossing over anything to do with her secrets. Pia was his mystery. No one else’s. He intended to solve her all by himself.

The mood in the room turned ugly as he described the confrontation on the Other land plain.

When he finished, Tiago stirred. In his thunderbird form, he was as big as any of the gryphons. “So, it’s war. About damn time,” he said. Dark satisfaction gleamed from obsidian eyes.

Dragos nodded. “It’s war. We don’t stop now until Urien is dead.” He looked at Tricks. “That means you get to be the Dark Fae Queen at last.”

“Oh God no,” the faerie groaned. “I fucking hate the Dark Fae Court.”

“Well, suck it up, Tricks. You’ve run from this long enough. And this time Urien’s pushed me too far.”

Over two hundred years ago, humankind time, Urien had taken the Dark Fae crown in a bloody coup. Urien had slaughtered his brother, the King, the King’s wife and anyone else who had any direct claim to the throne, except he managed to miss one small person, their eldest daughter, Tricks.

At just seventeen years old, Tricks had been considered little more than a baby at the time when she had managed to escape. She had run straight to Dragos, the one entity she felt sure could stand up to her uncle without any fear, and had asked for sanctuary. She had been with him ever since.

“It’s been a fun game of Fuck You, hasn’t it? We managed to keep it going for quite a while, but you know it had to end sometime,” he said to her. She gave him a miserable nod.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “Tiago, send some of the troops you brought back with you to scour that Goblin stronghold. They know what to do to anyone stupid enough to still be there.”

Tiago smiled. “You got it.”

“Aryal,” he continued, “investigate the Elven connection. I want to know who might have leaked information to Urien.” The harpy gave him a nod. He turned his attention to the gargoyle. “Grym, I want you to work with Tricks to plot the layout of the Dark Fae palace and grounds for possible plans of attack. I’ve got a few ideas, but I also want to know what you come up with. Tricks, I know you’re going to get really busy, but I would appreciate it if you managed to hire a replacement for yourself before you go, or at least come up with a short list of suggestions. We’re going to need a new PR person.”

“Of course I will,” Tricks said. “It’s the least of what I owe you.”

“It’s never gonna be the same,” Graydon said in a mournful voice. “Watching her cute little face when she came on television and knowing how Urien must have gnashed his teeth every time he saw her.” Everyone laughed. Even Tricks managed to smile.

Rune and Graydon were looking at him. He told them, “Until further notice, you two, and Bayne and Con, are on special detail. Get lieutenants to step in with your regular duties. You four are going to guard Pia whenever I’m not with her. Two on, two off, twenty-four/seven. She is never to be left on her own. Understood?”

Rune’s chair came down on all four legs. The handsome male looked very alert. Graydon’s expression was the picture of incredulity. It was more or less echoed around the room. Tricks’s eyebrows rose and her lips pursed.

“You’re putting four of your most powerful warriors on babysitting detail for a thief?” said Aryal. “At a time like this?”

Dragos looked at her from under lowered brows. Grym put a hand on her arm. The gargoyle said to him, “Unless there’ll be anything else, we’ll get right to work, my lord. I think we all have got a lot to do.”

He considered the harpy for a few more moments, the dragon roused and moving deep in his thoughts. Aryal dropped her gaze and bowed her head in a submissive posture.

“Go,” he said.

The others scattered. Rune and Graydon followed him as he went back upstairs. He stalked down the hall, still brooding, while they shadowed him on either side. He came to Pia’s door where Bayne and Constantine lounged against the wall, talking. The two men straightened at their approach.

“Fill them in,” he told Rune, who nodded. The dragon still roused, he regarded them all. The gryphons watched him with attentive, quiet faces. He said, “Let me make this perfectly clear. Just so there’s no mistake. We’ve worked well together for almost a thousand years. You have all come to mean a lot to me. I treasure your service and I prize your loyalty above all others.” He looked at Rune. “I count you as my best friend.”

They all stood taller as he talked. He pointed at the door. “Thief or not, she is mine and I’m keeping her. If a single hair on that young woman’s head is harmed, you four bastards better be slaughtered and in pieces when I find you.”

Rune’s steady gaze met his. “You needn’t worry, my lord,” the gryphon said. “We’ll guard her with our lives. I swear it.”

Tired as she was and in spite of the comfort of the bed, Pia tossed and turned, unable to settle into a deep sleep. She dreamed of being chased. The scenes kept changing. First she was crawling through the secret ways of a huge house, trying to find someplace to hide. Next she was weaving in and out of a crowded, unfamiliar city street while someone menacing followed behind her. She could never quite see her pursuer’s face, but he terrified the hell out of her.

Then someone lifted the bedcovers. A large, damp, naked male slid into the bed beside her. She startled, coming awake with a violent jerk.

“Shh, it’s me,” Dragos whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” she murmured. “Didn’t like that dream anyway.”

There was a reason why it wasn’t such a good idea for him to be in her bed. Or was she in his? She wasn’t awake enough to grasp any of it. She was just awake enough to feel a rush of pleasure and relief.

His arms came around her. She made a noise and burrowed into his side. His warmth and energy enveloped her. She put her cheek to his shoulder, against the damp, clean-smelling skin that covered hard, bulky muscle like silk, and rested a hand on his chest.

“Did you like your supper?” he asked.

“Lovely.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Take the spell off.”

“Sleepy,” she complained.

He stroked her hair. “Please?”

She muttered, fumbled to get hold of the dampening spell and released it.

His wide chest moved in a deep sigh. “That’s better.”

“Shh,” she scolded. She turned on her side. He wrapped his body around her. Her check rested on one bulging biceps while he curled his other arm around her torso. He pinned her legs with one heavy thigh. She cast a sleep-blurred glance down at their entwined bodies. The pale glow of her form was caged in possessive, dark bronze male. It was a jealous, suffocating hold. She should want to break free of it. She sighed. Something deep inside settled into place and she closed her eyes, content.

This time when she fell asleep there were no more dreams.

Along, restful time later something brought her out of deep unconsciousness. She drifted for a while in a twilight state. A large hand played down the front of her torso. Gentle fingers trailed from her flat stomach up her rib cage to circle first one breast and then the other.

She sighed and stretched. She turned onto her back as she arced toward that roaming, pleasurable touch. Lips brushed against her bare shoulder, caressed up the graceful curve to her neck. Teeth scraped against sensitive skin and nipped at her earlobe.

Bare shoulder? She opened her eyes. It was shocking all over again to lie naked with him. She rubbed a foot on his leg, crisp hairs tickling her toes. Predawn bloomed outside and brought the room to a light gray. Dragos rested his weight on one arm as he leaned over her. His severe face was intent as he studied her with a heavy-lidded gaze. The etched line of his mouth was curved in a lazy, sensual smile.

He was so gorgeous her whole body throbbed. His fine-cut nostrils flared and she knew he had sensed it.

She licked her lips. His gaze dropped and he watched the movement. “I’m quite sure I went to bed with clothes on,” she murmured.

“So you did,” he said, his tone languorous. He circled the areola of one breast. She watched him swallow as her nipple puckered. “I found them in the way.”

“You undressed me while I was sleeping?” She shivered as he circled the areola of her other breast. “I must have been pretty out of it.”

“I might have helped you along.” She arched a brow at him. He told her, “It was just a little beguilement. You needed to rest.”

“Without my clothes.” There he went, messing with her head again. Making note to self: they’ve got to discuss how she was not his personal Barbie doll to dress and undress whenever he felt like it.

“I needed to rest too,” he said in a bland voice. “And they were bothering me.”

She snorted out a laugh. Who knew this exotic, terrifying male would be so funny? She loved it, loved the surprise of him.

He traced her lips next. She got the feeling she was being stalked without ever having left the bed.

She took his finger in her mouth and sucked it, and set him on fire.

He pulled his finger out. Shadowed gold eyes flashed with ravenous heat. His head came down hard. He drove her into the pillow as he plunged into her mouth with a hard, hungry tongue. At the same time he cupped her between the legs, probed her damp sex and pushed two fingers deep inside her.

She groaned and clutched at his arm. His aggression pulled a helpless response out of her. She grew liquid and swollen, drenching his fingers. He growled and pushed his tongue and fingers into her in a simultaneous penetration. Her hips bucked against his hand.

She dragged her mouth away from his and gasped. “Wait . . . I don’t want . . .”

He hovered inches above her, the raptor waiting to plummet, while his thumb found and rubbed her clitoris. She moaned and pulled his hand harder against her. “You don’t want?” he murmured, giving her a ruthless smile.

She found his hard penis and grasped it. He hissed and pushed into her hand, pulsing against her palm. “I want to explore you too before you wreck me again.” She looked into his eyes, uncertain. He was so dominant. She didn’t have a clue what he might like. “Would you enjoy that?”

He paused and she watched him struggle with contrasting impulses. Then he pulled her hand off him and pinned it over her head. “I’d love it,” he whispered in her ear. “After we get you to just a little climax first.”

He pushed in deep with those long clever fingers and rubbed the heel of his palm against her, finding just the right spot. She jerked and struggled against his hold, pushing against the pressure, straining to find release. “Come inside me,” she coaxed.

“No,” he purred against her ear, drinking down every response. “Not yet. You come just like this, lover.”

“Damn it!” He was diabolical. The pressure built, and his fingers felt so fine as they stroked inside—God!—but she wanted him thick and hard and buried inside of her. She turned and bit his shoulder.

He laughed, a sexy, husky sound. He bent down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth, drawing on it and flicking it with his tongue while he worked her.

There it was, a climax burgeoning inside like a match flaring alight. She arched and gave him her sounds of pleasure. He left her nipple to brush his mouth over hers as she moaned, her inner muscles contracting. “That’s it, there it is,” he whispered against her lips. He eased rubbing the heel of his palm against her, bringing her down again with care. “Beautiful.”

They lay quiet a moment, breathing together.

Then she stirred and gave him a wicked smile. “You wanted to know why I said I wasn’t right in the head.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

She walked her fingers across his chest. “I kept having sexual fantasies of you at very inappropriate times.”

“Like when?” he asked, stroking her hip and down her thigh. He ran his fingers through the tangle of white-gold curls between her thighs, his touch delicate and light. He looked very interested.

She sighed in pleasure. How did he get so wise in all the ways to arouse her? “Like when you dropped out of the sky and sat on me. You looked like the wrath of God, and it scared me half to death. Then all I could think about was that blasted dream and how hot you were. It’s just not right to be scared and turned on all at the same time.”

“That’s all I could think about as well.” He lifted her hand and kissed the scab on her palm. “I meant to lay a trap for you with that dream. I trapped myself instead.”

“And then,” she whispered, eyes sparkling, “remember when you were chained up in the Goblin stronghold?”

“Not a memory that will soon fade,” he replied in a dry tone.

“It was terrible,” she said. “I felt awful, the cell was filthy and I was scared again. And there you were chained and spread out like a gourmet feast. In spite of everything, for a moment there the sight of you made my mouth water.”

His interest sharpened, became electric. “I’ve got to remember to add shackles to all the bedrooms.”

She chuckled and nestled closer. “It was just a fantasy. The real thing was pretty disturbing.”

“So, we’ll pretend.” He rolled onto his back and took hold of the bed rails above his head. The posture stretched the muscles of his arms and chest, accentuated his rib cage and hollowed his abdomen.

She stared at him heavy-lidded, her body tingling. Banked sensuality smoked in his gaze. His aroused body and his face were the sexiest things she had ever seen. It was even more arousing that he volunteered to lay supplicant before her, this big dangerous male.

She slid over him until they lay torso to torso, her breasts pressed against his chest. She bent her head and rubbed her open lips along his. She licked and kissed and nibbled. His breathing roughened. He nipped at her, trying to coax her down for a harder kiss, but she pulled away and slid down him.

She slid her open mouth along the bulges and hollows of his chest, kissing his breastbone and rubbing her nose in the sprinkle of dark crisp hair that arrowed down his long body to his groin. He shifted underneath her, stretching like a cat. She played with his dark, flat nipples, making them harden.

She was arousing herself as much as him. She reached down and took hold of his penis. He hissed and pushed his hips up. She looked down at her pale, glowing hand gripping him, her breathing erratic. He was beautifully contoured, his erection big and thick, the skin of the shaft and bulb of the head velvet soft. His testicles were drawn up tight underneath. She massaged them. They were heavy, voluptuous round globes.

He lifted his head to watch her fondle him, eyes glittering. He was all hard angles and edges. The muscles in his arms shook. She glanced at his hands fisted at the bed rails. They were white-knuckled.

“This is my game now. Don’t let go,” she warned him. She held his fierce gaze as she slid down his body. Whatever major issues or questions that lay unresolved between them, when it came to this they generated combustible magic together.

She crouched over him, lifted his erection, took the head in her mouth and suckled at him. He gave a short, sharp shout, his head slamming back on the pillows. His hips left the bed as he pushed at her mouth.

She gripped his penis at the root with one hand, cupped his sac with the other and feasted. The taste and feel of him was intoxicating. She crooned as she worked to get him deeper, opening her throat muscles as wide as she could, pulling back slow and tight and then pushing to take him in deep again. Hunger spiraled out of control, wild and hot.

Their game forgotten, he gathered her hair in one fist and pumped in her mouth. He put the other hand between her legs and probed and fondled the wet, silken folds.

Then he pulled her hair, forcing her head away. She made a noise of complaint as his cock left her mouth. He yanked her up for a devouring, openmouthed kiss. He was shaking all over, and it made her crazy. He pulled her on top of him and she parted her legs to sit astride, curling over him and rubbing her sex on his erection as he continued to hold her by the hair, imprisoned for his assault.

Overcome with greed, she lifted up and positioned him so that his thick broad head breached her entrance. Then he took over, grabbed her by the hips and thrust all the way in to the root. His whole body clenched and he gave a shout.

She was making noise too, urgent animal sounds, shivering all over as her body adjusted to the heavy invading length. He found a rhythm, pistoning into her with escalating urgency, fingers digging into her soft white flesh.

She tried to brace herself any way that she could, elbows propped on his chest. His head was lifted so that he was nose to nose with her, face etched with sexual aggression, fierce lambent gaze fixed on hers. He bared his teeth at her.

His feral beauty sent her into a liquid meltdown. She stretched out her arms and pushed openhanded at the pillows, lips parted, reaching, reaching, and then she was overwhelmed with a shock of pleasure so intense as he impaled her, she writhed in orgasm.

He joined her with a harsh groan, pushing up and up as his climax spurted into her. They held tense for long moments. Her lungs worked as she tried to suck in some air. Her damn hair was all over the place. She pushed it out of her eyes in time to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked desperate, out of control.

He shook his head, muttering, “Not enough.” Holding her low at the hips with one arm to keep them joined, he flipped them so that she landed on her back on the mattress with him on top. He was still hard. He began to move again, sliding in and out of her juicy, tight sheath.

“Oh God, you’re going to kill me,” she groaned. He paused and searched her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “You better not stop until you’re done. Remember, I can take any pace you can set, big guy.”

His face lit with a savage smile. Then he lost the smile, lost the words, lost everything to uncontrollable passion that swept her right along with him. He didn’t stop until he had spent all that he had.

Wrecked. He had wrecked her again. He took her so far and deep outside of herself, she came back changed in fundamental ways she didn’t understand. She made noises with him and did things she never had before, things she had never conceived of doing. She had never realized how the act of sex could be a total loss of all civilized behavior. He brought her face-to-face with the animal that lived inside her. She had nothing left to cling to, either inside of herself or outside in the rapid changes that had overcome her life. There was only him, the destroyer of her world, and she hung on to him with everything she had.

They lay together in a tangle of limbs, his head on her shoulder, as the morning light advanced across the ceiling. She might have dozed. She had lost count of her orgasms, let alone his. He pressed a kiss to her breast. He said, “I marked you up again.”

She yawned and tried to figure out how he sounded. Complex, that was the word, his voice filled with both regret and satisfaction. “You’ve got a few bite and scratch marks you didn’t have before too, big guy.”

He smiled against her skin. Regret fled and left pure male satisfaction the victor on the field. “That I do.”

A knock sounded on the door, and it opened to a faerie pushing a food cart into the room. “Good morning,” she piped.

Quicker than thought, Dragos yanked up the sheet and threw himself to cover her. He roared over his shoulder, “What are you doing!”

She threw the dampening spell on herself as fast as she could. Dragos looked murderous. She put a hand against his cheek, kissed him and peered over his shoulder.

The poor faerie turned dead white and looked like she was about to faint. She stammered, “I always—it never mattered—”

Pia said in a gentle voice, “What he means to say is, ‘Thank you very much for breakfast.’ And you didn’t do anything wrong. He’s not really mad at you. He just got surprised.” Underneath the covers, she pinched him hard. He grabbed her hand but didn’t contradict her. “Things are a little different right now, so maybe it’s a good idea to knock and wait next time until someone says you can come in.”

The faerie bobbed several times in frantic curtsies. “Of course! Of course! Thank you, my lady. I’ll—” She pointed at the door and bolted.

The door settled back into place. Pia looked at Dragos in bemusement. There were so many things that had just happened. She didn’t know what to make of it all or what to say. She stroked his face and waited until he calmed.

“She called me ‘my lady,’ ” she told him in a plaintive voice. “I don’t know who that is. I’m no lady.”

The last of his fury faded away to be replaced with a quick gleam. He peered under the sheet. “I can attest to that.”

“Ooh!” She smacked his shoulder.

They looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

He piled the pillows up, settled back against them and pulled her against his side. She put her head on his shoulder and tried to reach for her earlier drifting sense of peace. It proved to be a fugitive feeling and began to slip away.

He stroked his fingers through her hair. “You owe me a lock of hair,” he said.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the realities of the morning. She asked, “How much do you want?”

“A lot,” he said, holding up a few strands so that they glinted in the light. Then he frowned. “Not too much.”

She started to smile. “Make up your mind. I can cut it short and you can have all of it, if you want.”

“Don’t you dare. I want just enough.”

“Oh, like that makes any sense.” She raised her head to give him a quizzical glance. He was scowling. She sighed. “Hold on.”

She padded naked into the dressing room, pulled her thigh-length pink robe from a hanger and belted it on. She dug through the dresser drawers that held her things, found her portable sewing kit and walked back into the bedroom. She sat cross-legged facing Dragos on the bed. He laced his hands behind his head, regarding her with interest.

She took the scissors from the kit, isolated some hair close to the scalp at the back of her head where the cut would be hidden and snipped it off. She held the lock up for his inspection. It was a good-sized piece, the width of her little finger and the full length of her hair.

“Perfect,” he said, eyes gleaming in satisfaction.

“Debt paid?” she asked.

“Debt paid.” He rubbed the ends between his fingers.

“What are you going to do with it?” she asked.

He frowned again. “I don’t know.”

“Here, I’ll braid it for you. Otherwise you’ll have it all over the place.”

He watched in fascination as she cut two lengths of gold thread almost the exact same color as her hair. Almost but not quite. It was the closest she could find in her sewing kit and wouldn’t be noticed at any distance, but the thread lacked the lustrous quality of her hair.

She put one piece of thread between her teeth. She wound the other thread several times around one end of the hair and tied it. She used a safety pin to pin that end to a pillow and with swift competence braided the lock. She said between her teeth, “You’re not going to do some kind of black magic hoo-doo on me with this, are you?”

“Oh no,” he said, gaze on her fingers. “I just like the color.”

She smiled to herself, both warmed and weirded out by how they were acting with each other. It felt so natural, so right. There were so many reasons why it shouldn’t. She took the second length of thread to tie off the end of the braid.

Some foolish impulse made her offer, “I could tie it around your wrist if you like.”

She waited for him to tell her not to be stupid. Instead, to her surprise, he raised his eyebrows and said, “I would like that.”

He held out his right wrist. She wound the braid around it. Despite how thick his wrist was, the braid was long enough to go around it almost twice. She took more thread and worked on sewing the braid together. After she was sure she had it on secure, she tied it off and snipped the ends of the thread.

He held up his wrist and admired the pale gold gleam. He ran a finger around his wrist, feeling the soft bumps of the braid. The dark bronze of his skin seemed to make her hair gleam brighter.

“Dragos, am I a prisoner?” she asked. After weighing on her since last night, the question slipped out easily enough after all.

His eyes narrowed as he looked up. She kept her attention on putting things back in her sewing kit and willed her fingers not to shake. “No,” he said after a thoughtful moment. “Why do you ask?”

“The guards last night.” Relief had her offering him an unsteady smile.

“The guards are for your safety. When I’m not with you, they will be.” As she opened her mouth, he said, “That’s nonnegotiable.”

“But—”

His face hardened. “No arguing, Pia,” he said. “I am at war now. Until I bury Urien, he’s going to continue to be a serious danger. Whether he knew about you before or not is a moot point. After what happened on the plain, you have just become a major target.”

“But guards even here?” She felt any hope of even an illusion of freedom slipping between her fingers.

“A couple thousand people work here every day. Several thousand more visit. Yes, there is security and there are restricted areas, but no place is a hundred percent secure, not when Power is involved. You remember how I got to you with the dream. What if some magical attack occurs? You will have guards until this is all over. End of discussion.”

Her lips tightened. His logic was irrefutable and his autocratic attitude all but intolerable. When she thought she had her temper under control, she gave him a short nod. She didn’t necessarily disagree with him once he had explained things. She just expected to have a say in what happened in her life.

He settled back against the pillows and laced his hands behind his head again. He gave her a relaxed, ruthless smile. “Now that it’s come up and we can have that long-overdue conversation, why don’t you tell me all about your mother and how you healed me?”