Soulfire: A Dragon Fantasy Romance (Nightwing Book 1) Page 4

  “If I were heartbound, you wouldn’t be here.”

  Heartbound. I always loved the term. So much prettier than marriage.

  “And why is that?” I finally asked.

  “A beautiful, single female wouldn’t be welcome in my private quarters with me—alone—if I had a mate.”

  My attention snapped back to him, knees threatening to buckle. Heaven help me, the reminder of where I was, whom I was with, and the look in his eyes, raised goose bumps all over my body. All over. Crazy Jessen did a cheer and a backflip. Sane Jessen told me to get my ass out of there, and fast.

  “What happened to all the dragons if Prince Larkos didn’t kill them?”

  “Larkos did kill them. It had nothing to do with being an outcast. Both of his parents nurtured and loved him, but a deep-seated self-loathing warped his mind. He killed his father first, driven by the age-old lust for power, to be greater than the father. He set out to be the master race, to eliminate the superior race of the dragon.”

  I tore my gaze from the ceiling back to Lucius. “It’s so sad.”

  “True.” He stood up. “However, we prefer to think of our ancestry born of love, not hatred. Morgons honor the dragon king, not Larkos.”

  I walked back to the opening of the terrace, feeling sorry for Princess Morga. It made me think of Aron and his ceaseless ploy to trap me into a marriage I didn’t want. I knew all about true slavery—forced into a loveless marriage, which could only lead to lifelong heartbreak. I would have run away, too, if I were her.

  “What are you thinking?” He was beside me, both of us shadowed under the terrace canopy. “You don’t believe the Morgon tale?”

  “Yes. I believe it.” I frowned inwardly at the human story, the lie told to daughters everywhere. “I believe you. I just don’t understand why humans persist in engendering hatred where it’s unnecessary.”

  “Some think it’s necessary. To keep the species separate.”

  I didn’t want to talk about this. Visions of my father and his Morgon-hating lectures over breakfast spun through my head. “Did you really break Aron’s arm?”

  “Who?”

  “The guy, the one tonight who was…” Hmm. I grappled for the right words without saying too much. “The guy who was being a bit rough with me.”

  Sharp electricity charged the air.

  “I didn’t break it, but he may need a sling for a while.”

  I smiled. “Good. He deserved it.”

  The anger-laced energy dissipated. Now, another kind of electricity sizzled between us. Walking close, the outward arch of his wing brushed my shoulder. I jumped at the heat the slight touch shot through me. He opened his wings wider as if to give me more space, but the gesture created a protective shell across my back. His arms remained passively by his side, but his voice vibrated with dark emotion.

  “Who is he to you? An old boyfriend?”

  “No. He’s no one. A family friend, that’s all.”

  I moved into the moonlight. He remained in the shadows. I sensed his eyes on me as I watched Morgons land on rooftops, coming home for the evening. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  In my secret study of Morgons, I’d learned they aged much slower than humans, their lifespan double, sometimes triple a human’s. This also made it difficult to judge their age, since someone who looks twenty could actually be fifty or sixty. He didn’t answer. I turned to face him, his expression unreadable.

  “I’m twenty-seven.” A smile creased his face. “Why are you curious?”

  “Oh, no reason. I just wondered if you were like fifty. That would be a little weird if you were my father’s age or something.”

  He studied me for a painfully long moment. “If you’re having some kind of romantic ideas…don’t.”

  The prickly tone in his words sparked something in me. “Why’s that? Human women too distasteful for you?”

  “No.” Voice deep and gravelly. “You’re too soft. I’d break you…princess.”

  He was goading me on purpose. Why? He’d moved barely out of the dark, light gleaming over the contours of his wings, gilding the edges silver. I walked around him in a circle. He swiveled with me.

  “Would you mind if I looked at your wings? I’ve never seen any this close.”

  He paused. “Be my guest.”

  Giving me his profile, he unfolded his wings wider, allowing me to observe more closely. I marveled at the thick-boned structure, the criss-cross of barely visible veins, and the subtle beauty of swirling ridges. They looked like they’d been molded by an artist’s hands. Unable to help myself, I reached out and traced along the arch at his shoulder, the texture velvety under my fingertips. Lucius quivered, but didn’t move away. I drew my hand back, realizing I’d stepped over a line. He said I could look, not touch. The sane side of me thought that wise.

  He twisted to face me, granite features unreadable. Time stretched where neither of us spoke a word, falling trancelike into each other under the moonlight.

  When he lifted a hand toward my face, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, wanting his touch in that moment more than I’d wanted anything. He trailed the back of his fingers and knuckles across my cheek, along my jaw, under my chin, down the slope of my neck to the hollow between my collarbones.

  “Maybe you are a goddess.” Words husky in his throat. He traced back up with languorous, long fingers, as if learning my face by touch. “A witch, more like.”

  “Witches aren’t real.” My voice sounded detached, like it wasn’t mine. I was lost in shadows and sky-blue eyes.

  “No? Then why do I feel like I’m under a spell, as if something is gripping me, and I’m helpless to free myself.” His voice dipped impossibly lower, more growl than words, his fingers lulling me.

  “Why are you angry?” For surely the fire in his eyes and his words meant anger.

  “I have the compelling need to press my lips to yours. To see if they taste as sweet as they look. I don’t want to, and yet”—he brushed the pad of his thumb along my lower lip, then the top—“I’ve never kissed a human woman.”

  My breath came shallow and quick. “I’ve never kissed a Morgon man.”

  He bent his head mere inches from mine. Pressing down on my chin, he forced my lips apart. “Until now.”

  He combed long fingers into my hair, cupping the back of my skull, gaining complete control of me. He splayed the other hand at the small of my back, pulling me into the curve of his body. I arched into him with a gasp, breath whooshing out. His mouth hovered a hairbreadth away, tongue lining the seam before coming inside. Hard lips came over mine, prying them farther apart with unmerciful need. His tongue swept in, demanding more of me. Heat flared wherever he touched, and wherever he didn’t touch. I was on fire.

  Both of his hands roamed to my hips, squeezed, before lowering to the back of my thighs. With a violent shift, he lifted, cradling me against the hard length of him, right where my body needed to be. I whimpered at his size. He was right. He’d break me. But for some insane reason, I longed to be broken by this man.

  I thrust one hand into his hair, curling around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. He braced me against the terrace wall, wings extending wide with a violent whip, blocking out everything except us. I was hemmed in by heat and darkness and a delicious Morgon man. The crazy part of me rolled around in sumptuous sensation, begging for more.

  I pushed up his shirt to feel the hard ridges beneath, saying raspy words I couldn’t hold in. “Mercy…you feel so…so good.”

  He growled, teeth grazing my neck. He ground into me, showing me what could be mine as he nipped his way up my throat, definitely marking me. I moaned into his mouth when his lips took mine again. One of his hands slipped under my silk blouse, over my ribcage, up to my—

  Beep, beep, beep.

  We froze. Panting. Walled in by fierce passion and the unmistakable wake-up call in the guise of my beeping comm.

  Dammit.

  Lucius’s h
ands slid to my hips as he folded his wings to his back. A slow, careful, methodical movement. He set me down, the heat never leaving his eyes. With shaky fingers, I pulled my comm from my back pocket.

  Sorcha. Of course. Worst timing ever. Or maybe best. I was out of my mind. Sane Jessen agreed. I pressed the screen to answer, flipping it to audio-only.

  “Hey, Jess! Sorry. I, uh, misplaced my phone for a while.”

  “Sure you did.”

  “Hey. What’s wrong? You okay. Why am I off video?”

  I cleared my throat, feeling the large presence of Lucius behind me. “Of course I’m okay. I’m fine.” Okay, a bit too chipper.

  “Cool. I’m downstairs in front of his building. Come on down.”

  “How’d you—”

  “Corbin told me. He knew where Mr. Nightwing lived.” I trembled more by the way she said Lucius’s name, all sultry and sexy, than what I’d let happen. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t have stopped it any more than I could stop a thunderstorm. Even now, I felt fiery energy licking behind me where he stood.

  “I’ll be right down.” I clicked it off and shoved the comm into my back pocket. With a deep breath, I turned to face him. “Do you have some stairs in this place?”

  “No need. I’ll take you down.”

  I wondered at the wisdom of letting him touch me again. My pulse still thudded a rapid beat in my throat. His gaze remained steady and focused. Only his wide chest rising and falling at a quick pace hinted toward an emotion less than controlled.

  He combed one hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. “Look. What happened was a mistake. I’ll take you down and wish you well on your way. We’ll forget this ever happened.”

  I didn’t have tons of experience with guys, but I knew the heady sensations of making out and heavy petting. What happened between us went way beyond any of that, melting me bone-deep. I was still shaking, though I put on a good front, but I could pretend I felt nothing, like him. “Sure. Fine.” I moved away to the ledge and peeked over. Instant vertigo. I stepped back, directly into Lucius.

  He gripped my arms from behind, steadying me, his body a wall of tantalizing heat. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”

  Funny, because he just did.

  Chapter 4

  Scalding water beat over my wings and down my back. I wanted her. Wanted her. Body burning. Thrumming. Vibrating with need. My dragon clawed from the inside, needing to flame, devour, conquer, sate its hunger in her soft flesh. One hand on the stone wall, hot water pouring down my body, I stroked myself with the other, trying to release the aching torture.

  Her scent clung to me, pulling me down into a sensual abyss. A siren to my dragon senses with black hair I wanted to fist and pale skin I wanted to bite all over and mark as mine.

  Hot steam clouded my vision. I shut my eyes and stroked harder, needing relief from what she’d done to me. Needing more than that, but having to settle for this. I couldn’t, wouldn’t have a human lover. I never had.

  You can take her as a mistress.

  But she wasn’t the type to bed for fun or a whim. Fuck. It wouldn’t be for fun. I wouldn’t want her for one night or two. My dragon roared to get out, the beast wanting to take her for hours, days, longer.

  No. She was a Cade, the daughter of the man my father hated most in the world. I needed to crush the fixation that hit me like a fierce blow to the chest the second my senses first drank her in.

  Lustful thoughts of the lover she would be, might have been tonight if it hadn’t been for the fucking interruption, clouded my mind. Her slender hands on my chest, slim thighs wrapping my waist, soft lips yielding, opening for me, sighing a moan into my mouth.

  I groaned, my whole body stiffening when release finally came, easing the ache she’d made. Sure the siren would leave me in peace, certain the attraction would disappear with the water down the drain, I let it stream over me till her scent was scorched from my skin.

  I dried off and slipped into a loose pair of black pants. Still restless, I poured myself a strong drink and wandered out to the terrace off my bedchamber. Leaning back against the balcony, I gulped the fiery liquid, gazing up at the crescent moon.

  Her skin had glowed under the moonlight. That was when I had lost control, my desire taking command, the fatal flaw. Touching that silky, moon-pale skin had doomed me. My senses had quivered at the sight and smell of her, then I had to touch and taste, trace my fingers along the soft lines of her face, slip my tongue inside that sweet mouth. My body grew rigid. Again. I downed the rest of my drink and slammed the glass down, cracking it on the stone railing. “Fuck!”

  A snap of wings and boots hit the pavement to my right. Lorian landed and walked over. “I heard about the riot at the club. Was it serious?”

  “It wasn’t a riot,” I assured him, scowling. “Just a brawl.”

  “Kraven said it was between Morgons and humans. Do we need to be concerned about publicity fallout?”

  “No. No photos or videos were taken. I made sure of it. And those involved aren’t going to say anything. Trust me.”

  “What was it over?”

  I blew out a frustrated breath. “What do you think?”

  Lorian gave me a short nod. “A woman.” His lips twitched on one side as he leaned against the balcony next to me. “Morgon or human?”

  I clenched my teeth, jaw tightening to pain. “Human.” I couldn’t remove the low growl in my voice. She stirred me beyond control, and she wasn’t even fucking here.

  “Is there a reason this woman has your dragon prowling to the surface?”

  I gave him a sharp glance. “It’s nothing.”

  Lorian tilted his head, rubbing the stubble on his chin—a tell of his, meaning he didn’t believe me. “Is this woman why you’re cursing to the night air and drinking alone under the moonlight?”

  I heaved a sigh, bracing both hands on the balcony railing, feeling the strain of muscles at the thought of her. “I can handle it.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Fuck off.”

  He laughed. “Ouch. She really has gotten under your skin. And you met her tonight, I’m assuming?”

  I glared at him. He threw up his hands in defense. “Fine. Fine. But no one would blame you for spending a night with a human. You don’t have to look like the world will end. Take her to bed and be done with it.”

  “She’s the eldest daughter of Pritchard Cade.”

  “Ah.” Lorian’s face hardened, as I’d expected. “I suppose that does change things.”

  “Obviously.” I exhaled a deep breath, forcing my nerves to calm. “I have no intentions of bedding her or even seeing her again. It’s a non-issue.”

  “Pritchard. Cade.” My brother’s words were ice and steel.

  The years we’d dealt with this man in the business world had proven one thing. He hated Morgons. My family most of all because of a past I’d rather not think about. He may be able to fool his human clients, but our senses allowed us to detect and read the subtlest of sneers and false politeness. I could only imagine the blazing fury he’d feel if he knew where his daughter had been tonight. If he knew I’d gotten my hands and lips on her. If he knew I’d wanted to do a whole lot more. Hell, maybe that’s why I burned for her so badly. Seducing the tantalizing daughter of the enemy was an awfully great temptation. Who was I kidding? She could’ve been the daughter of my favorite client and I’d still want to sink into her perfect, soft body.

  Lorian flattened his palms on the stone balcony, staring out into the night. “He’s trying to block our security operation with the human firm, the Benson Agency.”

  “Yes. I know.” I picked up the cracked glass, ice cubes tinkling at the bottom. “Of course, he’s trying to do it covertly through a third party.”

  “He’s always underhanded.”

  “Ruthless. It’s his way. How our mother ever—”

  “Don’t even say it, Lucius. For fuck’s sake.”

  Lorian crossed his arms and loo
ked out, his back a tense line. Silence loomed between us, both our thoughts heavy with a past we couldn’t change. One we had no right to, even if we could. It had all happened long before we were born anyway.

  Three Morgons landed on a nearby rooftop together. One of them tripped on the landing, obviously drunk. Another laughed, helping him up and stumbling into their home.

  I finally said what needed to be said. “We can’t hate the man for his past.”

  “Yeah, but we sure as hell can hate him for being a devious, racist bastard now.”

  He was right. Pritchard Cade was an easy man to hate. But then my mother’s kind and lovely face flitted in my mind. I couldn’t disappoint her. Not even in death. “Mother made us promise we wouldn’t.”

  Lorian balled his hands into fists on the balcony, his jaw clamped tight. His fierce expression—all hard planes and furious lines—reminded me why everyone called him the angry Nightwing brother.

  “Mother had quite a few deathbed wishes, didn’t she?”

  “Yes,” I agreed in a soft rumble. “And we’ll abide by them all.”

  He sank into silence for a few minutes. I let him have his time to rein in his temper. For all of his reputation as the angry one, he rarely lost his temper. No, he kept all of that rage locked tight now, having released his fury in the fighting pits years ago. If there’s one thing I could say about my reckless brother, it was that he learned from his mistakes.

  “Yes,” he finally agreed. A heavy silence stretched long and deep before he met my gaze. “We’ll abide by them all.” With a swift beat of wings, he lifted off into the night.

  I returned to my bedchamber, sealed the door, and set the alarm. After dropping the cracked glass into the trash, I rolled my shoulders and stretched my wings, trying to rid myself of the knotted tension that had taken up residence since the moment I saw that prick put his unwelcome hands on Jessen. Why? Why had she affected me so powerfully? I’d never met her, never laid eyes on her before tonight. It’s not like I hadn’t been in the company of beautiful women before. It’s not like I didn’t receive offers on a regular basis from both Morgon and human women. And yet, something compelled me toward her. My beast had awoken with a fury when she was being manhandled. The truth was he’d been lucky to leave the club with little more than a sprained arm. If I’d let myself go, he’d been a mound of battered flesh and broken bones on the dirt-stained floor.