Thea Harrison - Dragon Bound

When she finished, there was a long, long silence on the other end. She toed one of the flagstones and watched traffic below as she waited. “That’s going to take me a while to process,” Quentin said in a scrupulously neutral tone of voice.

“Tell me about it.”

“How . . . is he?”

“You know Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady ?”

“The professory, growly son of a bitch?”

“Yeah, well”—she closed one eye, squinted at the skyline and grinned—“Dragos is a lot worse.”

That caused another rant that went pretty much along the lines of he’d-better-treat-you-right-or-I-don’t-care-who-thebastard-is-I’ll-kill-him-myself kind of thing. She bent over, put her forehead on the wall railing and endured it with as much patience as she could muster, making noises every once in a while to pretend she was actually listening.

Finally he said, “I want to see you in person. I want to make sure that bastard hasn’t addled you with some kind of beguilement.”

“He hasn’t,” she said. “But I’ll come to Elfie’s soon for a real visit.”

“You’d better.” Quentin sounded grim. “Or as allergic to the Tower as I am, I’ll come break you out.”

“Tell everybody I miss them.”

“I will. See you soon.” He stressed the last.

“Yes, you will, I promise.” At last she was able to extricate herself from the conversation and hang up.

She was wrung out. This starting a new life was a hell of a lot of hard work.

She and Dragos didn’t talk much after they had shared stories, and she didn’t see much of him after she had convinced him to go back to work. He was soon immersed in stabilizing some businesses in Illinois before he sold them, and he mentioned something about initiating a hostile takeover of an investor-owned utility company.

She wondered if the distance between them would be the definition of her life now. He slipped into bed with her every night and wrapped her up in his arms, and she derived a lot of comfort from his nearness. But they didn’t make love, or have sex, or . . . mate.

Changing and becoming full Wyr enhanced her healing capability. After three days of convalescence, she was climbing the walls. Finally Dr. Medina, who had been making daily house calls, cleared her for treadmill walking and other light exercise.

“Yes!” She’d been hoping for the go-ahead.

“No running until I say so, no matter how good you feel. And I’m not going to say so till at least next week,” the doctor warned. “That crossbow wound gave your respiratory system quite a knock.”

“No running. Gotcha.” She grabbed her clothes, black Lycra exercise tights and sports tank top, and put them on. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” The doctor smiled. “I’ll let myself out.”

She sat on the edge of the bed to put on her running shoes—another new pair—as the doctor left the suite. After her last shoes were ruined in her flight through the rain-drenched forest, Dragos had bought her six new pairs.

The door opened. She looked up, ready to tell the guys they could hit the gym. Dragos strode in. As usual, he took total command of the air space in the room.

He gave her a long look, then shut the door. He had dressed that day in black jeans and a black silk shirt that emphasized the strong athletic lines of his massive body and the bronze of his skin—and did nothing to lighten the severity of his face.

Even in his human form he looked capable of ripping the Fae King apart with his bare hands. Should she find that as sexy as she did? She scratched her head. She wondered about herself, she really did.

“Hi,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Apparently you don’t expect much from me,” he said.

“Excuse me?” she said, taken aback.

He began a slow stroll around the large suite. It was his prowling stroll, his long muscular limbs moving like liquid under the silk and denim. She twisted to watch him with equal parts pleasure and uncertainty.

“The doctor has cleared you for exercise,” he said. “So I figure that means you’re strong enough to face other things now as well.”

“Oh-kay.”

“Go ahead and call me obsessive, but I have a bone to pick with you,” he said. He was frowning.

It made her forehead crinkle in response. “What’s wrong? What else did I do?” Hadn’t she done more than enough for a week? At this rate she was going to have to turn catatonic to make sure nothing else happened.

He turned to face her, hands on his hips. “Do you remember when you stepped in the rabbit hole?”

She snorted. “I’m not likely to forget.”

His narrowed eyes glittered like gold coins. “You remember what you said?”

She shrugged, her face and mind a blank.

He stalked over, put his hands on her shoulders and shoved her back. She fell back on the mattress. “Hey!”

Then he crawled on the bed until he was on his hands and knees over her. He glared down at her, every inch the dominant angry Wyr male. “You said and I quote, ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am that you came or how good it is to hear your voice.’ ”

“So what?” She smacked his shoulders with the flat of her hands. Didn’t quite work out the same way when she did it. Of course he didn’t move an inch. “Quit with the primitive crap already.”

“You might have noticed I’m a primitive kind of guy.” He showed his teeth and got into her face. “All those centuries of civilization? Just a veneer.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” She went lax and just stared at him, helpless as usual against the flood of arousal that swept over her. “Have you been sulking about what I said this whole time?”

He tilted his head, his eyes lava-hot. “You said it like I was some kind of visitor. Or like you weren’t sure I would come when you had been kidnapped . When you had just told me you were pregnant with my child . I don’t know what the hell you think of me other than I am a bloodthirsty monster.”

“Dragos!” Her eyes went wide. She touched his face. “I was kidding when I said that.”

“So? I am a bloodthirsty monster, and you are my mate.” There was not a hint of softness in that aggressive face. He growled, “And I am yours. What will it take for you to accept that?”

“I do. I promise I do,” she said. Incredibly, she had hurt him in more ways than one. She stroked his cheek. “I just don’t know how to be your mate. Somewhere between that horrible Goblin stronghold and when you flicked your tail at me on the plain, I fell head over heels in love with you. But I come from a strong human background. Love, being in love, making love—those things make sense to me. They’re part of who I am. And you already admitted you don’t know what love is. So I still don’t have that frame of reference I was looking for. Even though we’re together, I don’t know how to behave or what it means.”

His expression had eased as she talked. He kissed the palm of her hand. “It means, you stupid woman, that I am learning too. Now you listen to me. I never stop thinking about you. You’re with me everywhere I go but I miss you when we’re apart. I’ve already shown that I will kill for you. I would also die for you. You make me laugh. You make me happy. You’re my miracle and my home. If you as much as twitch, I get a hardon. I will always come for you, always want you, and always need you. We clear?”

She had begun to glow. “Sounds a lot like love to me.”

“I thought so too,” said the dragon. In a move too fast for her to track, he snatched her hands and pinned them over her head. She startled but made herself relax in his hold. His fierce raptor’s gaze flared in the light. He descended until he was nose to nose with her. He hissed, “So say it.”