She blinked several times.
“Forgive my interference, but I couldn’t stand by and watch a lady be harmed.”
A smile tipped up her lips and lit her whole face. Her eyes turned almost dreamy while she stared at him. This was good; she didn’t scream or run, yet.
“I’m Amber Anderson. What’s your name?”
“Brimstone, my lady.”
“Brimstone, just Brimstone?”
He nodded. “Brimstone the Crusher.” Last names in the Dragon Realm must be earned not given by your sire, unless you were of a noble lineage.
“That’s a cool name, just like you. Tall and broad. Are they real muscles?” Her gaze fell to his torso. She examined him from head to toe, reached out and took hold of his hand, putting her small, pale one into his large, tanned one, comparing their size difference.
“Wow, you really are big!”
He was at a loss, utterly puzzled by her reaction. “You are not afraid of me? Most, hmm…uh, most women are.”
She shook her head eagerly. “No, you’re amazing, unique, handsome and perfect! Exactly what I need.” She met his gaze again, her eyes gleaming with eager excitement.
Did she know they are mates? He was told human women didn’t recognize the pair bonding as easily as magical beings. He guessed there was something else going on in her strange, human brain.
“Brimstone, would you be my new hero?”
Chapter 2
The sizzle of energy, like plugging in a rechargeable battery, made Amber shudder for a moment. Her attraction to the big guy was clear, more evident than glowing neon arrows pointing at him to say ‘big hunky guy here, hump him now’. She never thought it was really possible—such bone deep attraction, leaving her stunned like a kangaroo caught in headlights on the highway. Sure, she wrote about sexual, romantic fantasy for a living, but this was beyond anything she imagined.
Rollercoaster rides had nothing on her roiling emotions. In the past half hour, she went through despair, humiliation, anger and fear. When the big mountain of a man stepped in to rescue her from her now ex-fiancé, she experienced awe, trepidation and exhilaration. Now, it was tinged with a hint of lust. Oh, hell, who was she kidding? She was downright drooling over the seven foot, sexy god of a man.
Raw sexuality oozed from him in a roughened, tough kind of way. Her palms itched as she took him in. Brimstone Crusher. His parents must have been hippies, or from the middle-ages to give him such a name—not that she cared. It suited the hard looking guy.
Even by the low lamp lights littering the foreshore of Darwin Harbour, his blue jeans and tight, black t-shirt only helped to make him look more rugged and masculine. She was sure his muscles had muscles. She fought the urge to fan herself, and not from the evening Top End heat of Darwin.
She dropped his hand and stepped back, realising she pawed at him like a kid wanting to sample an exciting, new candy. His chocolate brown eyes almost glowed in the evening darkness when he stared at her.
“Your new hero? Who else do you need rescuing from?”
Good god, his voice was deep, liquid gold. A woman could orgasm from only a few seductive words.
She felt her cheeks flush crimson. “Oh, gosh, no one, just from myself, sometimes. Sorry, I kind of get carried away.”
His dark eyebrow rose. Man, she was so using this. Her fingers itched for a pen and paper. Heck, even better, her laptop back in her room.
Shouldn’t I be upset after breaking up with my boyfriend of two years, instead of drooling over a complete stranger? She didn’t feel upset, really more relieved it was over.
Her stomach fell, thinking about her room, her things and…“Oh, crap, Wayne!”
“He is gone,” Brimstone growled. She watched him in awe while his body stiffened, his eyes scanning the area as if expecting a threat. Wow, again. This man is prime, female, fantasy material.
“I have to get back to my hotel. If he’s that pissed, he might destroy all my work!”
If nothing else, she knew Wayne to be spiteful. She spun on her flats to hurry back to the hotel.
“I will escort you and make sure you come to no harm.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I mean you’ve already put yourself out for me, I’d hate to be a bother.”
“I thought you wished for me to be your hero.”
From his tone and intent stare, he was serious.
“Well, yes, but it was me and my wayward brain not filtering what my mouth tends to blurt out.”
“You did not mean what you said?” He easily kept stride beside her—more like he had to walk slower to match her hurried, little pace.
“Yes, I mean no, I mean…you see, I’m a writer and create stories. I think you’d be the perfect hero for my next story.”