Not His Dragon Page 9

  Lorenzo joined him. “It’s visceral. Like a kick in the gut.” He fingered a sharp edge and hissed. Bright red blood seeped from a thin cut on his fingertip. “And dangerous.” He glanced at Eoin. “Just like you.”

  “It’s what you asked for.” He wanted to pound the statue into the ground. This wasn’t a medium he was familiar with.

  “May I see the others?”

  “Others?” Eoin’s voice rose an octave.

  “They’re en route from Berlin and will be here in a few days,” Roger interrupted.

  “A week,” Eoin countered.

  Roger gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Five days at the most.”

  Lorenzo watched their exchange with interest. “Then you can deliver them in time for your show.”

  “I thought that was canceled.” Eoin eyed Roger.

  “I hadn’t finalized the cancellation yet. Roger had promised me something spectacular first and this is beyond my expectations.” Lorenzo clapped Roger on the back. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

  His agent faced him quickly and whispered, “I bought you five days and a show. Don’t let me down.” He turned and marched to his car without a backward glance.

  Eoin watched them depart. Five days. Where was the closest scrap yard? He needed metal of all types, and his fire. It would be a long night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eoin’s acute vision helped on the dark roads as the streetlights flickered. Those that worked. His fingertips ached from molding molten metal all day. So far everything looked like car wrecks. He could hear his future art career going up in flames. The only thing that helped him through the day was his appointment with Angie.

  She lived on the fringe of the industrial area of the city. Her walk to and from work was not safe. She needed a car.

  Parking his bike in front of her building, he gazed at the chipped red brick. Some of the windows were cracked. Before he could get off his bike Angie ran out the door. She’d been waiting for him.

  The warmth spreading in his chest had nothing to do with his flame.

  Worn jeans clung to her shapely legs and her tits strained against the plain gray t-shirt, leaving him sucker-punched. She set her hands on her hips and the motion exposed a thin line of midriff, just enough to draw his attention and tempt him to run his tongue along the edge. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath. “Ready.” She glanced at his bike. “Wait, you expecting me to ride on this death trap?”

  He ran his hands over the gas tank. “Don’t listen to the mean girl. She’s just jealous.”

  Angie's lips quirked, struggling not to smile.

  “It's a beautiful night for biking.” He handed her a helmet. “I didn't think you'd be afraid.”

  With her fingertips, she traced the scratches Ryota left on his paint job. “Looks like you’ve taken a spill.”

  “Nah, that’s vandalism. Cold, calculated vandalism.” He didn’t mention Ryota’s name. The alpha’s invisible presence would only stain their evening together. He wanted Angie all to himself, no sharing her with a memory.

  “Whoever did that must have balls the size of watermelons to touch a dragon’s toy.”

  Eoin enjoyed the sharp edge of her teasing. “I’m sure he does, but his dick must be pine-needle-size to do it while my back was turned.”

  She laughed, the sound deep and throaty rolling from her belly.

  “I’ve never crashed.” He held the helmet out and dared her with his gaze. Where was the hellcat who’d pepper sprayed him?

  She snatched the helmet from his hands. “Being cautious is not the same as fear. Remember, I’m frail in comparison to big boned dragons.” Swinging her leg over the seat, she sat as far away from him as possible with just her hands holding his waist.

  He reached under her thighs, pulled her against him so her breasts pressed against his back and her legs cradled his hips. “That’s better.” He guided her hands to rest on his chest. He could think of a better place to set them but he had promised to behave. Well, mostly.

  Her gasp was audible through the helmet.

  He pulled away from the curb before she could change position. Not long after, her body melted against his as he drove out of the city and toward his mountain home.

  The castle loomed into their view and he sensed her tense. In the night, his home could appear foreboding. Dark towers rose, blocking out the stars and not a single inviting light was left burning in the windows. He had done it on purpose to dissuade the press and tourists from trespassing. The rumble of the engine crashed over the quiet of the forest and the single headlight of his bike parted the night. He coasted to the front entrance and silenced his bike. The calm of the evening rolled back in place.

  A welcoming cool breeze ran over his skin. People thought dragons sought out heat but the opposite was really the truth. The volcanoes they prized were for hatching eggs and raising their fragile young. Adults preferred the cold since they produced enough heat on their own.

  Angie swung off his bike, landing hard on her legs. Her knees buckled at the sudden motion.

  He steadied her by the elbows and dismounted. “Whoa. Your legs aren’t used to clinging on to something for so long.”

  She shot him a daggered look but didn’t respond to his innuendo.

  “Do you think if I provided enough light we could work out here?”

  “Why?” She shifted her gaze to the dark forest.

  He followed her stare. “I guess you didn’t camp as a child?” Modern society was losing its edge by turning away from nature. If a squirrel jumped from a tree, Angie would probably scream.

  “I’ve spent my share of nights outdoors, except mine were in boxes or under bridges. No tents for me.” She gave a weak laugh as if haunted by those memories.

  He’d been wrong about Angie. If something jumped out of the forest, she’d slay it. He rested his arm over her shoulder. “A beautiful night shouldn’t be wasted staying indoors.” He resisted the urge to gather her in his arms. “Nothing in those woods could harm you. Not with me around.”

  She scooted out from under his arm. “I wasn’t worried.” She stood taller. “I just don’t see how you can light the place enough for me to see.”

  “My resources to create fire are limitless.” He strode to the garage. “With enough torches I can light the general area.” He came to a sudden stop. Maybe they were stored in the dungeon?

  Angie walked full force into him. “Ouch.” He hadn’t noticed her following. “Warn a girl.” She rubbed her nose.

  “Are you all right?” He leaned close to check her injury and inhaled deeply, taking in her addictive scent. He suspected she wouldn’t complain even if she’d broken it.

  “Yes.” She retreated. “I’ll be fine. I was more surprised than hurt.” She kept avoiding his touch.

  “You should have waited by the bike.”

  Toeing the ground, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s creepy.”

  Smiling, he turned his back on her and unlocked the garage. If she was going to be jumpy about the dark, then he shouldn’t bring her to the dungeon. That would send her screaming out of his life forever. He’d make do with whatever stuff he found in the garage.

  He flicked on the overhead light and searched the shelves.

  “Wow.” The breathless word made him spin around. Angie turned a slow circle in the middle of the room surrounded by his cars. “Some of these are antiques.” She ran her hands over the Aston Martin with reverence.

  “I am the original owner of most of them.”

  “Why do you drive the motorcycle?”

  He chuckled. Of course she liked the Aston Martin. “I like the wind in my hair.”

  She pointedly stared at his shaved head. “Yeah.” What could he say? It was easier to care for if he kept it short.

  Behind her, in the far corner leaning against the wall were some tiki torches he could use. He gathered those, a hard hat, and a handful tools.

  She followed on his heels. “If you’r
e the original owner, that makes you much older than me.”

  “Does it matter?” He set the hat on her head.

  “No.” She removed the hard hat with a puzzled expression. “Really none of my business.”

  He flicked the headlight on and she jumped. “You’ll see my scales better.” He set the hat back on her head. She was much, much younger than him and she’d never met another dragon. He took a step nearer. The need to possess and claim her uncurled in his gut. She’d be only his.

  Angie stared up at him with her big, brown eyes. She’d given him her trust when she agreed to return tonight. Oh, how he had misjudged the depth of his desire for her. Her thin t-shirt would tear with one hard yank and he could be upon her within seconds.

  With a jerk of his head, he stormed from the garage before he broke his word and her trust. In the clear expanse of grass, he’d used for naps, he jabbed the torches one by one into the ground with single, hard strokes until they circled the area. Fire burned in his chest and he lit the wicks by spitting small fireballs.

  Angie stood in the center of the circle still wide-eyed. “I didn’t know dragons had such good control over their fire.”

  Feeling smug, Eoin took off his shirt. “It’s a practiced skill.” He and his brothers used to toss them at each other for fun. Either they learned to dodge or they improved their aim. He tugged off his jeans and sensed Angie’s gaze caressing his flesh. Desire blazed thick in his blood.

  He lowered his gaze as he marched toward her. If he saw even a hint of interest in her eyes, his control would vanish. Better for him to look away and avoid her gaze altogether. He shifted to dragon form in a pop of silken magic. Lying down in the circle of light, he offered Angie a wing to climb aboard his back.

  “What tools will I need tonight?” She rummaged through the things he’d carried out of the garage.

  “After you finish cleaning out any missed spots of rot, use the coarse file and the handheld garden clippers to cut off the edges of any chipped or cracked scales. The scales need to be smooth to heal properly.”

  She gathered what she needed and climbed on his back.

  He liked her slight weight on his spine, the feel of her fingers gently prying his scales. Sighing, he closed his eyes while she worked in silence. The cool breeze soothed the smoldering heat growing inside him. No female had ever affected him like Angie did.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Angie worked through Eoin’s damaged scales with blind focus. He didn’t chitchat like last night. His back rose with each slow, deep breath as if he were meditating.

  He snorted and shifted his legs as he moved to roll on his side.

  “Hey, take it easy. You’re going to make me fall.” She clung to his scales as she slid. The sharp edge sliced through her palm and she hissed with pain.

  Eoin swung his head around. “Sorry.” He righted her with a nudge from his nose. “How long was I asleep?”

  Blood pooled in her palm. “I don’t know, but I’ve been working on your scales for over two hours.” She was tired and hungry. “I’m actually done. There was very little damage to the scales and the rot is all plucked away.”

  He lowered his wing so she could climb down easily. His gaze darted to her hand. “You’re hurt. Let’s tend to your cut.” He shifted to human form, grabbed his jeans and cradled her hand within his. “Follow me to the kitchen so I can clean the wound.”

  “It’s nothing.” Her skin tingled where they made contact. She should struggle against his hold; instead she let him lead her deep into his dark castle. He hovered close enough to envelop her with his heat. No matter how she tried, her gaze kept wandering back to his naked flesh.

  Hard muscles covered in inked skin. The images flowed nicely from wrist to solid shoulders, over well-defined chest, to lick-able abs, to… She yanked her gaze from his semi-erection and met his self-satisfied smirk. “Stop that.” She gave him a shove.

  “Stop what?” He laughed.

  “Yes, you’re my type but that doesn’t change things.” Eoin was every woman’s type. That ripped body came from plenty of activity and she’d bet his endurance would make his lovers weep. She shook her head. God, she’d need an ice cold bath when she returned home.

  And she would go home. Without taking her clothes off. Or touching him. “Get dressed already, Eoin.”

  “As you command.” He flourished a fancy bow and pulled on his jeans.

  She turned her back to him. How long could she fight her attraction to Eoin? Would one night in his bed be such a bad idea? Most of the time she considered herself a grown woman, and accordingly a one-night stand could be fun. But she should wait until the job was done. Mixing business and pleasure had never been a good idea. She’d learned this firsthand with Ryota.

  “You know,” he whispered by her ear making her jump. His strong hands grasped her upper arms from behind. “It would only be polite if you took off your clothes and let me stare in return.”

  A brush of desire fluttered in her lower abdomen. She turned just enough so their gazes locked. “Too bad I’m considered rude.”

  All he had to do was lean a bit closer and their lips would mesh. “Let’s clean your cut and make sure you don’t need stitches.” He kept her injured hand cupped within his as he guided her through the castle’s many hallways towards the far back of the building. He still wasn’t wearing his shirt and his shoulders rolled with each step.

  “Stitches won’t be needed. I heal fast.” She’d been knifed in the gut, during one of her many attempts to run away from the foster system. The mugger had stolen her backpack and left her for dead in the alley she’d been using as her home. The next morning she’d awoken almost healed with a scab on her stomach and an ache when she walked.

  “More shifter traits?” He raised an eyebrow. “Ever consider that maybe there’s more shifter in you than human?”

  “My parents were both human. That would be impossible.” Unless they’d lied to her, which they wouldn’t have done. How many times had they told her she was the most important thing in their lives?

  They entered a kitchen where Eoin guided her to the sink and ran cool water over the cut. On the black granite counter rested a plate filled with cut vegetables. Her stomach growled.

  “Hungry?” He dried her hand and wrapped his shirt around it. “No stitches required. It’s not even bleeding anymore.” Staring at her bandaged hand, he remained quiet as if struggling with something.

  “Eoin?”

  His gaze rose and trapped hers. “My scales are sharp. I should have warned you.”

  “I noticed the first time I worked on them. It was just an accident.”

  “Sorry. Again.” The words came out stiffly like a cramp had seized his throat. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

  She chuckled. “I’m used to it.” Many of her clientele slept under her care.

  “You don’t understand.” He pulled out some pans, and set them on the gas stove and pointed to a stool by the counter. “Sit.”

  To her surprise her ass made contact with the stool before her mind registered his order. She clenched her teeth to hold the sharp words on the tip of her tongue. He didn’t even gloat at her obedient move.

  Instead, he pulled out plates of raw steak and a bowl of potato salad from the fridge.

  Her gut seized. He wanted to cook for her. How would she excuse herself when she had admitted to being starved? Except that sensation plaguing her stomach wasn’t the usual nausea when faced with a male cooking her food. She observed him pouring oil in the hot pan followed by the chopped vegetables. It smelled heavenly.

  He set the vegetables on low heat and he did the same to the other pan. “How do you like your steak?”

  She swallowed. “Rare.”

  He tossed her an appreciative look over his shoulder. “Nice choice.”

  Her chest swelled at his approval. What the fuck was wrong with her? She stood and realized she hadn’t a clue where to go. Even if she found her way out of the ca
stle, Eoin still had to drive her home. Unless she called Beth. The poor omega wouldn’t want to face an angry dragon and Angie wouldn’t place her best friend in such a situation again.

  She crossed her arms and glared at his bare back. The muscles slid under his skin as he cooked. It wasn’t the smells of the food that made her mouth water. “Why don’t you explain what you think I can’t understand?”

  Eoin set the steaks on the hot pan. The sound of sizzling filled the kitchen. He went to a wall filled with wine bottles.

  From what she’d seen of the castle, most of the rooms appeared neglected, some of them even exposed to the elements outside. The kitchen must be special to the dragon since it was intact. ‘Clean’ would have been stretching her description, but she couldn’t complain. It would have been the pot calling the kettle black.

  Eoin filled two glasses with red wine, handing her one. “I let my guard down.” He gulped his glass empty and filled it again.

  He was right. She didn’t understand. “So?”

  “You could have killed me.”

  She choked on her wine. “What kind of person do you think I am?” Killing hadn’t crossed her mind once. Smacking the snot out of him, yes. Not manslaughter.

  He stirred the vegetables and turned the steaks. “It’s not you, Angie. Don’t be insulted. It’s hard to explain.” He kept stirring, tossing the vegetables with a sauce he’d already prepared. “I don’t let my guard down like that.”

  “Must mean you trust me.” She refilled her own glass and tried to hide her smile. Why the hell not have another? She’d need the liquid courage to get through dinner if this was the appetizer. What did he have planned for dessert? She coughed again. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph she couldn’t stop thinking about Eoin wearing nothing but his birthday suit. Him being half-naked while cooking didn’t help.

  Speaking of which, why wasn’t she ready to toss her cookies?

  He filled two plates with bite-sized food. It smelled fantastic. Either he was the best cook she’d ever met or food cooked by dragons bypassed her neurosis.