Daughter Of The Dragon Princess(10)

Without giving her a chance to argue, he spun on his heel and strode from the room.

Lily stared at the closed door for what seemed like an age. She wanted  to shout-come back. Answer my goddamn questions, you son of a bitch.  Fury welled up inside her. All that had happened, right from his  breaking into her apartment, was his fault.

She picked up the empty plate and threw it at the door. Flickers of  orange flame burst from her fingers, and she gaped at them in shock, and  then forced herself to calm down.

Dragons

Of course, why hadn't she thought of that herself? Her anger bubbled up  inside her, and she pushed it down again. It would be just her luck to  set the place on fire while she was locked inside. Now if she ever got  out, that was a different matter. She'd burn it down around him.

She got up and tried the door, then kicked it when it refused to open. "Bastard!"

***

One floor down, Mal watched her on the monitor. He smiled as she stubbed her toe on the steel door.

Walking out on Lily was becoming something of a habit, but he'd had to  leave. He couldn't face more time with her, more lies. All he could do  was keep her calm until the moment he handed her over. But it bothered  him, and the fact that it bothered him, pissed him off.

He picked up his cell phone and stabbed in the number.

"Malachite." The voice trickled into his ear like warm honey, and a shiver of revulsion ran through him.

"Cassandra," he replied. "I need to speak with Vortigen."         

     



 

"He's not here. But he told me to arrange the meeting with you."

He frowned. He didn't trust Cassandra. That the King consorted with a  sorceress was something Mal could never understand. That he gave his  blood to extend her mortal life was sheer madness.

"Mal?" Cassandra spoke into the silence.

His gaze flicked back to the monitor. Lily stood glaring at the door, as  though she could melt it with a glance, and his resolve hardened. What  choice did he have? He had to hand her over now, before he got in even  deeper.

"Go ahead," he said.

A minute later, he put the phone down. The meeting was arranged.  Everything would go as planned. Despite what he thought of Cassandra,  she was loyal to the King. Still, he couldn't shake his unease. Or the  guilt that pricked his conscience.

Why should he care?

He remembered the feel of Lily's skin, the heat of the mark, the taste  of her soft flesh. He had been so close to losing control.

What was it about Lily Palmer that made him want to break his vows, turn his back on his ways and his people?

Thankfully, he wouldn't have time to find out.





Chapter 6





"Looks like we've been stood up," Lily said from the passenger seat  beside him. They were the first words she'd spoken since he'd put the  cuffs back on her, and he told himself it was better that way. He didn't  want to answer any more questions.

But she was right. The place looked like a working farm, but appeared deserted, the buildings in darkness.

Mal had pulled up outside the house. He restarted the car and drove  behind a group of outbuildings where they couldn't be seen from the  road.

What the hell had gone wrong? He tried his cell again but got no answer.

"What happens now?" Lily asked.

Good fucking question.

She scowled as she caught his gaze. "It won't hurt you to tell me, you  know. After all, I am involved in this. Just a little bit."

"As you said-there's no one here. But we should check the place out."

"Check it out for what? Something worse than dragons?"

He ignored her sarcasm and opened his door. But at the last moment, he  turned back to Lily. If this went as planned, he'd never be alone with  her again. At the thought, a shaft of pain stabbed him in the gut.

He studied the lines of her face, the curve of her cheek, the straight  nose, the arch of her brow. Then he leaned forward, so her scent filled  his nostrils, spice and honey. Without giving himself time to decide  this was a bad idea, he kissed her on the forehead. He wanted to do  more, but now was not the time or the place, and he pushed himself away  from her.

She blinked at him in the dim light, a bemused expression on her face,  and he cursed under his breath, then climbed out and slammed the door.  Nothing moved in the darkness, and he cursed again.

Where the hell was the King?

He stalked around the car and opened the trunk. First, he pulled on a  Kevlar vest, lightweight but effective. Over the vest, he strapped on  two shoulder holsters and checked the Desert Eagle .44 magnum pistols  were loaded with glazer bullets. Finally, he buckled on a back sheath  for his long blade and one at his waist for the short knife.

***

Jesus, all those weapons. What the hell was he expecting? Lily watched  him through the rear-view mirror. In his black clothing and all the guns  and knives, he appeared dark and dangerous.

But she could still sense the spot where he had kissed her and she  lifted her cuffed arms and swiped them over her forehead as if she could  rub it away.

He'd been quiet on the drive, his face wiped clean of all expression,  and Lily hadn't felt inclined to break the silence. In fact, she'd spent  the whole journey fuming.

He planned to hand her over to another man.

She hated Mal, didn't trust him, and it was probably just a matter of  better the devil-or rather the dragon-you know, but she didn't want to  leave him. Why he made her feel safe, considering all that had happened,  she didn't know, but he did. And he was giving her away.

His face appeared at her window, and she jumped. He opened her door. "Come on, let's go see if they've left us a message."

She jumped down from her seat and fell against him, her palms flat  against his chest. He took a step back, and Lily snatched her hands away  and forced her attention to her surroundings. It was a strange evening,  the air charged with electricity, sending prickles skipping across her  skin. Perhaps there was a summer storm coming.

Mal turned and headed for the house, and she gave him one baleful glance and followed. What choice did she have?

She could just make out the building in the dim light. It was a  beautiful, sprawling old farmhouse with a thatched roof and a host of  mullioned windows, all of them dark. Mal pushed open the door and led  her into a narrow hallway. A faint mustiness filled her nostrils as  though it had been a long while since anyone had lived here. The hallway  was dark, and she reached out her cuffed hands for guidance and  encountered his hard body, her palms resting against him.         

     



 

"Shit," he muttered, then turned and backed her against the wall. She  could just make out his form towering over her, as his head lowered and  his lips slanted across hers. Her mind went numb, her body took over,  and she didn't resist as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. The kiss  was hard and held an edge of anger barely contained. It didn't matter.  He tasted like her dreams, of heat and spice. Her tongue thrust back  against his as a pulse started its incessant throb between her thighs.  She stood unmoving as he deepened the kiss, pressing his long, hard body  into hers so she was plastered against the length of him. Hunger  ignited low in her belly, and she groaned against his lips while her  hips shifted restlessly against him trying to get some relief from the  craving building inside her.

One hand slid beneath her top to cup her breast, his palm rubbing over  the peak, and pleasure shot from her nipple to her groin. Her head fell  back, and she raised one leg, wrapping it around his hip so she could  press her core against the hard length of his erection. Desire was  building like a heaviness inside her, swelling …

A bolt of lightning lit up the room, briefly illuminating the savage  intensity of his expression. His mouth stilled, his fingers tightened on  her breast, then the light flashed again and he jerked free of her and  swore viciously.

A second later, his fist slammed into the wall at her side.

Her hands came up to drag him back to her. She was clumsy in the cuffs  and her senses returned-what sort of woman kissed a man who'd cuffed  her? A crazy one, that's what sort.

She pressed her wrists against him, so the metal dug into her skin and  the fog of desire cleared enough for her brain to function. She shoved  him hard. He didn't budge.

"Get off me, pervert!"

His brows drew together. "Pervert?"

"You know, the sort of man who likes to tie women up?"

He didn't answer, just took a step back, and shoved his hands in his  pockets. He breathed out deeply and the tension drained from his body.

"Why?" she asked.

He didn't pretend not to understand. "It occurred to me that we may not get another chance. And I was … curious."

She gritted her teeth. "Curious?" Her tone was filled with outrage.

"Just leave it." Lightning flashed again and he frowned, then took her arm. "Come on, I don't like this."

"Like what?"

He didn't answer, just led her along the hallway and through a door. In  the dim light, she could make out a comfortable sitting room. Everything  appeared so normal and she blinked in confusion.