Daughter Of The Dragon Princess(8)

His lips curved into a slight smile. "Princess, your instincts are way off."

What the hell did that mean? Her gaze flickered down his body and halted  at the bulge in his pants. His erection was obvious, straining at his  fly. Where had that come from? A warm heavy weight settled in her belly,  her mouth went dry and she swallowed, forcing her eyes back up to his  face.

"Well?" he murmured, his voice a low husky drawl. "Have you changed your mind about what I want?"

This put a whole new turn on things. She inched away, increasing the distance between them.

He laughed softly. "You look like some defenseless virgin about to be  ravaged by her brutal attacker." Then his eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I  don't believe it," he muttered. He stood up in one fluid motion, raking  his long hair back from his face and scowling down at her. "You're a  virgin?" He could hardly keep the incredulity from his voice, or the  disgust.

"No," she snapped. "Not that it's any of your business." She pursed her lips. "It's just been a while."

In her teens, she'd run wild on the streets, embraced the whole gang  thing, searching for any sort of connection she could get-throwing  herself into a series of destructive relationships just to feel like she  belonged. That had all changed when she was seventeen and her best  friend had died of a drug overdose. Lily had seen herself heading the  same way. She'd made the decision to turn herself around and there had  been no one since.         

     



 

"How long?" he asked.

She shrugged. She wasn't ashamed of it. "Four years."

He scowled. What was wrong with that? She was only twenty-one. She had  plenty of time. She'd just not met anyone she had wanted enough  recently, hadn't felt any inkling of sexual attraction with all the men  who'd pursued her in the last few years. But then she had been mixing  with rather a lot of accountants. Hardly exciting. Yet that's what she'd  wanted.

Until now.

He was naked from the waist up. On his left arm was the dragon mark; on  his right, he wore a torc of gold and emeralds. He appeared wild, almost  barbaric, but Lily knew instinctively that he wasn't about to hurt her  or rape her. He shook his head as though he still couldn't believe her,  and a flicker of annoyance flashed through her.

"I'm choosy. What's wrong with that?"

***

What was wrong with that?

The question echoed in his head as he fought to bring himself under  control. Had he thought that if she were promiscuous, he could take her  now, and then hand her over to Vortigen like some whore? The idea of her  in Vortigen's less than tender embrace made the bile rise in his  throat.

He was out of his fucking mind.

The problem was, he hadn't been thinking. At the first touch of her soft  fingers, he'd lost his head. Now his body was still raging, his cock  throbbing, pressing painfully against his fly.

She was kneeling on the bed, her red hair a tangle of waves about her  exquisite face, waiting for an answer he couldn't give. He laughed, but  the sound held no amusement. He couldn't let her know what her future  held. He required her cooperation until he handed her over to the King.

She glared at him as though he was mad, but at least she had relaxed her  deathlike grip on the robe as though realizing he posed no danger to  her. The material gaped open revealing the shadowy curves of her small  breasts, and a burning hunger coiled in his belly.

He wanted her, more than he had ever wanted any woman. He wanted to  possess her totally, keep her safe forever, and that was one thing he  could never do.

She was destined to belong to Vortigen. Only the King and his mate together could open the portal and take their people home.

Tonight, Mal would hand her over to the King, and that would be the last of it.

***

Okay, confused didn't cover it. She did not want him. Really, she  didn't-she hated him. But in her whole life, Lily had never seen a man  back off quite that fast.

So she hadn't been with a guy in a while. Did that make her untouchable?  It wasn't like a major crime. Now he was muttering under his breath,  pacing the room then coming back and casting dark looks in her  direction. Finally, he stopped moving, the tension left his body, and he  took a deep breath.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what?" She was sure she knew what he was asking, but she was damned if she would make it any easier for him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why has it been so long?"

"I think I might be frigid." Which had been the truth until tonight.  None of the boys she'd been with had ever made her feel desire.

"Frigid?" He came over to stand above her. "I don't think so."

"What would you know about it?" she said through gritted teeth.

His lids drooped, and he breathed in deeply. "I can smell your arousal."

Her mouth fell open. "You so cannot." Was it possible? Ugh! She hoped not.

He smiled and reached out a finger, brushing it across her lips. Lily  gasped but didn't back away. Her skin flushed with heat under his  intense gaze, the soft toweling of her robe scraped against her  sensitized nipples, and a moist heat pooled between her clenched thighs.

"Can," he murmured.

Then he took a step back, and Lily breathed again.

"But I'm not going to touch you."

A stab of disappointment knifed her in the belly. She forced a nonchalant frown. "Whoever said that was an option?" she snapped.

"But … " He paused, and she peered at him suspiciously, " …  I would like to see the mark again."

"The mark? My mark?"

He nodded.

She glanced down at herself. "I've got nothing on under here."

"I think I'll be able to control myself."

"Bully for you." But she believed him. If he decided he wasn't going to  touch her, then he wouldn't. She had the feeling this man would always  keep his word.

"If I show you, will you tell me about them, about the marks?"

"I'll tell you what I know."

Her fingers twisted in the material of the robe and she dragged it from her shoulder.         

     



 

He brushed one callused finger against the soft flesh of her arm just  above the elbow where the tail of the black dragon curled. His touch  sent tingles through her as he traced the dragon up her arm, across the  shoulder and down over her collarbone where it ended above the swell of  her breast with a lick of flame. She fought the longing to sway toward  him, biting her lip, so the pain brought her back to herself. Then he  reached forward and, before she knew what he meant to do, he kissed the  sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. Her breath caught in her  throat as his tongue came out and licked along the line of fire that  erupted from the dragon's mouth. The heat of his breath washed over her,  his tongue like a flame searing into her skin. The scent of smoke  filled her nostrils.

He backed away, his face blank, but Lily caught a brief glimpse of his  eyes before he turned. Sparks of crimson fire flickered in the golden  depths.

Then he was gone.

Lily stumbled towards the door, before collapsing to her knees. She put  her hands out to stop the fall, and knelt, breathing fast until she was  sure she could support herself. Lurching to her feet, she tugged the  robe up and around her.

"Right," she muttered to the empty room, "you were going to tell me about the marks."

She edged toward the door. Raising her hand, she pushed against the  wood. It swung open. Stepping through, she found herself on a landing. A  rail ran along one side and below was a huge living space. One wall,  entirely made of glass, looked out over the city of London, and in the  center, a sunken area with circular couches in soft cream leather  beckoned. Mal sprawled on one of these, his bare feet resting on the  coffee table in front of him. He glanced up. His eyes were back to  normal. His expression returned to neutral.

"Come on down," he said.

She walked to the end of the landing and down the metal staircase. The  carpet was cream like the couches and soft against her bare feet.

"Clean clothes." He nodded towards a pile of parcels on the sofa beside  him. Lily inched closer. She picked one up and peeked inside.

"There's a bathroom over there." Mal gestured to a door across the room. "Do you want coffee, food?"

Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and the mere thought of  coffee made her mouth water. She nodded before picking up the rest of  the packages and disappearing into the bathroom. He had provided panties  but no bra. She could live with that. Fly button jeans that fit  perfectly, a bright pink tank top and a shirt to cover the mark. In the  mirror, her face appeared pale, but otherwise she looked okay. Her hair  hung loose to her shoulders and she raked her fingers through it. She  was reluctant to go back out, but she needed to hear what he had to say.  Besides, she could smell the coffee through the closed door.

A tray was on the steel and glass coffee table with a large plate of  sandwiches and a pot of coffee. She sat down on the sofa opposite Mal,  poured herself a cup, added cream and took a sip. Her lashes fluttered  closed as she savored the taste. She could almost believe for a moment  that she was not in the middle of some nightmare. That the world hadn't  gone crazy.