Chloe Cole(13)

His relief was so great, his hands shook with it, and he downed the rest of his scotch in one swallow. “Another drink?”

“I probably shouldn’t…” she eyed her empty glass longingly and he picked it up.

“We’re both grown and nobody is driving. I promise I won’t take advantage of you.”

She held the back of one hand to her flushed cheek and then shrugged. “Screw it. Sure.”

Satisfaction coursed through him as he crossed the room toward the bar. There was no question, his little wolf was slowly coming around. The fact that she was willing to sit and talk, and allow herself another drink showed a level of trust she hadn’t displayed before.

For the first time since he’d laid eyes on her cowering on that cliff, the nagging sense of foreboding that had been hanging over him started to fade. With a little more time and patience, he knew he could win her over. He just had to make sure that happened before Etienne made his move. Until she was truly marked with Drake’s mating scent, there were no laws protecting her from another dragon’s attentions.

One thing today’s little discussion in town with his old friend had made very clear. A battle was brewing. A battle he had precious little time to halt in its tracks before it evolved from a pissing contest into an all out blood-letting.

With only a few hundred dragons left in the world, it would be a shame to have to take one out.

But it sure as hell wouldn’t stop him.





Chapter 5





“Pregnant?” Willa closed one eye to get her blurry husband back into focus. Then, she hiccupped. “For a year and a half? That sounds like pure torture.”

Drake held onto her arm as he led her down the hallway toward his bedroom. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but judging by the fat moon in the nearly black sky visible through the windows, it was pretty late.

How long had they been in the library? Four hours? Five? She hiccupped again and tried to think. Her whole plan had been to get him talking. Try to find some weaknesses to exploit. Instead, she’d gotten shit-faced and they’d wound up sharing their life stories. He’d told her about his mother, and his father, and their love story, which clearly moved him. He told her about his favorite cousin Ilsa who’d lost her son in a freak accident two years before. She still hadn’t recovered emotionally, and he feared she never would.

Then they spoke of Willa’s family. She told him about her relationship with her parents and how tough they were to please, and what it was like growing up in a pack.

It was only after she realized she’d wriggled another few inches closer to him with every secret they shared that she called a halt to the game.

Not part of the escape plan, idiot.

Even now, she couldn’t seem to stop the flow of conversation. Maybe being stuck up on the mountain had given her cabin fever and she was just starved for human companionship.

Or maybe you like him.

“Yeah, a year and a half is way too long to make a baby,” she said, steering her thoughts back to the conversation at hand. “The women must be huge by the time they give birth.”

“Well, it is a long time, I’ll give you that,” Drake said with a chuckle. “But most females only bear one child in a lifetime. Maybe two, at most. Which is why our population is so small.”

He led her through the bedroom door before closing it behind them and, suddenly, the nerves that had been pickled in a pint of Scotch bobbed to the surface again.

It was bedtime.

If she had trouble keeping her hands off him before, how was she going to manage it now that she’d essentially neutralized all her defense mechanisms with alcohol?

She crossed the opulent room and lowered herself onto the very edge of the mattress, struggling for clarity. He’d said he wouldn’t take advantage of her, so that was something, at least.

If only she could be as sure that she wouldn’t take advantage of him in the middle of the night, that would be most excellent.

She thought back over the day while steadfastly ignoring Drake, who was rifling through his drawers for his nightclothes. If she overlooked the detail that she was still, in fact, a prisoner, it had been kind of…nice. When had she last spent hours on end talking to a sexy, charming guy who gave her his full attention the way Drake had?

Answer: Never.

And maybe that was something worth thinking about.

But now wasn’t the time for making any rash decisions. She’d be sober soon, an hour on the outside, due to her shifter metabolism. All she had to do was keep her hands off him for sixty more minutes, and she’d be back to her normal, disciplined self.

No problem.

“Here,” Drake called, and tossed a plastic bag her way. “The pajamas you got at the store.”