Last Immortal Dragon(13)

Okay, so Clara hadn’t really thought he would say yes. She was teasing, thinking an immortal would’ve lost their sense of adventure along the eons, but Damon was apparently up for playing. He’d shocked her to her bones, and damn, it had been a long time since someone had surprised her.

The Gray Backs, as it turned out, were all down to shotgun beers, and so they gathered around the fire pit, Bud Lights in hand, as Creed explained the technical side to poking a hole in the bottom. This was Willa, Georgia, and Aviana’s first shotgun, too, so Damon was in good company. Clara watched him relax and laugh with the Gray Backs as he prepared his beer, and in that moment, everything faded away. The background became blurry and dull while Damon drew up into focus. His muscular shoulders pressed against the crisp white material of his shirt, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and prepared to pop the top of his beverage.

“One!” Willa said with the happiest grin on her face.

From the way the Gray Backs acted, Damon didn’t cut loose with them often.

“Two!”

Clara jammed her finger under the top of her can. Her breath halted as Damon turned that demon-black gaze on her and mouthed, Are you ready? Heart-stopping smile. Heart. Stopping.

“Three!”

With a giggle, she popped the top of her drink and chugged her beer from the hole near the bottom. She spilled everywhere, but most of it got into her. She leaned over, cracking up as she wiped her mouth. Damon didn’t spill a drop. Of course, he was good at shotgunning. She’d bet he was good at everything he tried.

He took her empty can like a true gentleman and disposed of it, then returned with a proud smile. He nodded his head magnanimously and drew her hand to his lips, then murmured, “Wish granted.” Lifting a hungry gaze to hers, he whispered, “And you didn’t even have to rub me.”

Clara’s breath froze in her throat. The naughty man wasn’t as cold as she’d supposed. He knew how to tease her back. And as he dropped her hand and turned to say something low to Creed, who was clapping him on the back, Clara blinked slowly and had to focus on staying upright. Her legs had turned to noodles when he had brushed his lips across her knuckles. It was an old fashioned kiss, yes, but a kiss just the same, and now her stomach dipped as if she were falling.

But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out if it was good to fall for a man like Damon Daye, or epically bad.





Chapter Five




A smile lingered on Damon’s lips as he looked out the window of the Towncar. It was dark outside, but his night vision was impeccable. Every branch and every pine needle, every set of reflective animal eyes and every blade of wild grass was as crisp and clear as it would be in the daytime.

Turning his head slightly, he snuck a glance at Clara, but she was watching him, too. Busted. Her answering smile turned shy, and she dropped her gaze to the hem of her shirt, which she was fiddling with.

Mason suddenly had nothing to say and, sure as anything, Damon was going to deal with him tomorrow, but right now, he had this tiny tangle of giddiness in his gut. Shotgunning a beer. Truly? Damon shook his head and tried to get a grip on the stupid smile tugging at his lips. What was the woman doing to him? Daring him to step out of his comfort zone with that beautiful challenge in her dancing green eyes, and like a lovesick adolescent, he’d risen to the dare just to see that smile on her full lips. Hers was a smile he would fell entire mountains for.

She was nothing like Feyadine.

Feyadine had been shy and had trouble speaking her mind, while this wild creature could look him directly in the eyes and tell him exactly what she was thinking. And her hair. Red like his flames and curled into little corkscrews. Feyadine’s had been a darker auburn, and she’d kept hers pulled tightly back in pins, as was the style at the time. Her eyes were also gray instead of the clear mossy green of Clara’s. And if those differences weren’t enough, the second Clara opened her mouth, there was no mistaking her with Feyadine.

And yet Damon had that same kind of pulse-pounding, dick-hardening response he’d had to Feyadine all those centuries ago. This was all confusing, and though he’d never admit it aloud, terrifying.

It would be best for everyone when she left in the morning.

The thought of losing her before he got to know more about her made his dragon unfurl uncomfortably in his middle. A single click cracked inside his chest. A warning from his firestarter that he needed to settle down or this car would go up in flames, and its inhabitants along with it. And as much as Damon wanted to pretend Mason and Clara meant nothing to him, he’d been trying to change since his mistakes with Diem. When he’d hurt his daughter, his son-in-law, Bruiser, had given him a verbal beat-down that opened his eyes to so much. And from that day forward, he’d begun to feel for the people who worked in his mountains.