Heart of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals #2)

Chapter Five

When Lucian finally arose out of the darkness of sleep, he felt drugged.

He had slept so hard and so long that it was almost as dark in his room as it had been in his unconscious state. He groggily flicked a small spell at the screen opposite his bed, and the clock was summoned. It was well into the evening, nearing 10 o’clock, but he had no sense of the passage of time—he had to check the date even to see what day it was. It was still the same one, just nearing the end of it. But he was no longer in danger of losing control and turning wyvern.

Thank magic for that.

Thoughts of almost losing control made him reflexively reach out with his fae senses and search the keep for Arabella. She was still in her apartment, something that churned both frustration and pride through him. She’d seen him nearly become a beast she surely did not recognize, and yet she was still here. He had ordered her away—nay begged her to leave—and yet she was still here. And even across the stretch of the keep, the touch of her scent on his mind and the refreshment of sleep aroused him, springing his cock to life.

Fuck. That was the last thing he needed.

He dragged himself out of the warm embrace of the sheets and headed for the shower. He magically dispensed with his clothing and stepped into the cool water, letting it cascade down his body and hoping it would cool off the raging hard-on that even the mere scent of her had given him. It wasn’t working, and he contemplated giving himself some release. Even as his hand stroked his cock to make quick work of it, prudence held him back. The solution was not to get off with dreams of Arabella in his head. What he needed was to take his release with another woman. Again and again and again… until he forgot the sweet taste of Arabella’s scent.

As if forgetting was something he knew how to do.

He shut off the cold water and stepped from the shower, toweling off. He would need all the residual lust heat that he could muster to accomplish this. Finding a woman to bury himself in, much less seducing her and carrying out his duty, would take all the willpower he had. Possibly more. He gritted his teeth, determined in this vile task, not because it was what he wanted. Not even because it was an honorable thing to do, at least, not for the woman involved. Only because it was his duty, which the fate of humanity rested upon.

He conjured a tailored suit, trim and draped across his body in the current fashion. It was hunting gear, the kind he saw Leonidas wearing lately—the kind that aroused women.

Then Lucian searched for his phone and swiped open the app—WildLove—that Arabella had taught him how to use. It was simple, easy, and far faster than hunting through the human bars, as his brother did. Then again, Leonidas didn’t have to accomplish the same purpose. Lucian swiped through the candidates—there was a seemingly endless supply of them. He was looking for certain characteristics. Most definitely not green eyes, but something that showed a glimmer of the strength this woman would need to endure being his mate. He would have to meet them personally—very personally—and taste them to see if they had anywhere near the strength of Arabella. Or any chance of surviving at all. And they would need more than that—they would need the capacity for True Love, something that perhaps was even more rare. He set up a dozen liaisons, each at the same hotel in downtown Seattle that he had used before for his ill-fated “date.” With that one, he had never intended to carry through—it had been just a ruse to arouse jealousy in his real target, Arabella. And he’d succeeded all too well in that endeavor, losing his heart as well.

There would be no chance of that this time. His heart already belonged to her.

As the messages flooded in, these women all hot and ready for sex, he queued them up fifteen minutes apart. Speed dating for a mate, he supposed. But he should know with the first taste if they were right for the job. If not, then he could hustle them out the door before the next arrived. And the unluckiest one of all, he would take to bed right away. This time, he would start the seduction immediately with an orgasm. This was business, nothing more, and he needed to do it right. Maybe if he had had such sense about him before, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with Arabella in the first place.

He took the stairwell to the roof from his own lair, not wanting to chance meeting anyone in the halls of the keep, especially his brothers. They’d made their opinions abundantly clear—he should send Arabella away. And while he may not be capable of that—indeed, had already reached the limits of what he was able to do in begging her to leave—if he returned with another woman and took her obviously to his bed, perhaps that would finally send Arabella packing. In fact, her anger at him might be just the shield he needed to keep from running back into her arms with the slightest look or touch.

The flight from the keep to Seattle was short. When he had landed, decloaked, and re-dressed himself in his seductive evening attire, he strode into the hotel. He had arrived mere minutes before the first prospect was to show up at the door to his room.

Even so, he paced every inch of the expansive hotel suite he had acquired for the night, feeling every second of the waiting time crawl up his back. It was like a demon that dug deeper and deeper into his soul with every step. He had to remind himself over and over again, like a chant, that this was his duty. Did every crown prince of the House of Smoke endure this agony? Would this always be the fate of his House and his family to have to succumb to the demands of the treaty? His mother had a True Love for his father by necessity, but it was obvious that his father adored his mother as well—his gaze, even now in their old age, never strayed far from her, and they sported a vigorous and resplendent love that was clear to all. But they were both dragon, something extremely rare—as rare as the triplets they bore from their love.

Lucian imagined the original love between the Fae Queen and her dragon lover was similarly transcendent. And no prince of the House of Smoke had ever, in the ten thousand years since, failed in his duty to win the love of a human woman to bear his dragonling. Less clear was how many had truly loved the woman who bore them a son. If Lucian failed to produce a dragonling, he would be the first… and he would be jeopardizing all of humanity with it. But he would also end the torment, once and for all, and not only for himself, but for his House.

He snorted in disgust. That was one of the most self-serving thoughts he had ever had, and it was no credit to him that he’d had it several times before.

A knock at the door summoned him. He straightened his shoulders, wiped the self-pity from his mind, and strode toward it.

The first candidate was a gorgeous, well-built blonde. However, even with the door just barely open, and before she could speak, he could tell she was vapid and spoilt. She tasted of self-indulgence. The surface sexuality that was rampant across her body and throughout her scent said she took her pleasure from many men but worried not about the pleasure she gave in return. Her body was barely concealed in a clingy silk dress—it was intended as a lure and not any bold proclamation of her strength or sexuality.

“Are you Lucian Smoke?” she asked with a smile that revealed gleaming white, perfectly straight teeth behind her bright red lipstick.

“Sorry, you have the wrong room.” Lucian closed the door in her face.

He shouldn’t take satisfaction from that action, but he did. As he paced away from the door, the curses in the hallway could be heard even without his enhanced dragon senses. He made the circuit around his hotel room suite, past the grand, king-size bed, along the two-story wall of windows looking out over Seattle’s downtown, past the small living room area with the crackling fireplace, and back to the door again. He would keep the pacing up until the next one arrived; with any luck, the first one would be gone by then. If not, then that confrontation would be illuminating, if nothing else.

Agitation continued to itch its way up his back as he waited, but he was more determined in his purpose now. When the second knock came, he was ready.

This time, he reached out before he opened the door, tasting her with his fae senses. This one had an electric strength in her, snapping and buzzing with energy. It came not from darkness, but from a raw, almost brutal nature. She was a fighter with an ornery nature, and she had had many conquests in bed. Lucian would merely be her latest.

He opened the door, and she looked just like her image on WildLove—fiery blue eyes, blazing red hair. She had a ghost of freckles across her cheeks, a thought that Lucian shoved roughly to the side. There would be no comparisons to Arabella tonight.

“Damn,” she said, looking him up and down. “You’re even hotter in person.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, giving her the half smile he knew reached inside a woman and dialed up her arousal. Although her scent was already filling his senses. “Perhaps you should take a taste to be sure.” He stepped back to give her room to come in.

Her eyes lit up, and a hungry smile took over her face. She marched in and slammed the door behind her, then she was on him, hands grabbing at his shoulders and his hair, lips crashing against his. She practically climbed him, hooking her long leg over his hip and grinding her body against him. He grabbed hold of her ass and pulled her tighter, willing his cock to stiffen and show her that he returned her raging lust, even if it weren’t true. She ground and ground against him, helping with that cause. Her tongue was plundering his mouth, and his was in return. He could have hot, angry sex with her, no question. They could fuck until dawn, ravaging each other’s bodies… but under the harshness, the brutal strength of this woman, there was no inner softness.

She snaked a hand down between them and grabbed his cock through his clothes, giving it a swift stroke. His body responded, growing harder in her grasp, but inside he was already deciding her fate.

Lucky for her, it wouldn’t involve spending the night in his bed.

He reached down and grasped her hand away from his cock, and said, “I’m sorry. You have to leave.”

“What?” It wasn’t a question filled with disbelief—she seemed to think she had misheard him.

He grabbed both of her wrists and held them wide apart, then stepped back from her, holding her body away from his, just make himself absolutely clear. “I changed my mind. Leave now.”

The proud strength of her face went through a convoluted shifting of emotions—first disbelief, then horror, then a raging-hot anger. She struggled in his hold, trying to break free, no doubt to take a swing at him. When that proved unsuccessful, her knee came up. He released her hand to catch her leg and gently shove it aside.

“You asshole!” she said, but she was backing away, the red of her anger coloring her face and spitting out in her words.

She would never know that she should thank him. But she didn’t have the capacity to be what he needed. There was no soft love waiting to be revealed under that hard, brittle exterior. He could seduce her—and he had no doubt the sex would be satisfying if nothing else—but she was not the kind to fall in love, least of all with a man like him, no matter how soft his charms. She would leave him, or more likely, never agree to something like the sealing in the first place.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else willing to spread your legs,” he said, letting disdain drip into his voice. It was a horrible thing to say—and probably the only thing that would drive her from the room without him having to physically throw her out.

A shrill growl rumbled in her chest, and her fists clenched at her sides. “I don’t have to take this shit from you!”

He gestured to the door. No, she didn’t— she really didn’t —and he desperately hoped she would take that insult and leave.

Thanks be to magic, she did.

She slammed open the hotel door on her way, leaving it gaping. She stormed down the hall, her growl of anger still trailing after her along with the stomp of her high-heeled shoes.

Lucian dragged himself to the door, then slowly and quietly closed it. He braced both hands against it and banged his head on the stained oak. For the love of magic. Only two, and he was already worn out. Tarnished deep in his soul with this sordid business. How the fuck was he going to endure this? How had the other dragons before him managed it?

Not for the first time, he wondered if his ancestors were all brutal rapists. Like Tytus, the black dragon, who took his pleasure from hunting women like prey. But no… somehow they had won the love of their humans—True Love, indeed—but those were different times. Times when women expected less of a man but deserved even more for all they suffered. Somehow, the dragons before him had done it. Maybe they were not as soft of heart as Lucian was. It was the only answer that he could draw upon that made any sense—that he was the problem, not the treaty.

He must’ve been standing at the door for a long time, his head resting wearily against it, as the next knock took him by surprise. He jerked away from the door and stumbled two steps back, eyeing it warily. Then he reached forward with his fae senses to get a heads up on this one.

She was different.

This one tasted of a deep, dark hurt, and a long-suffering, aching need for love. She had been hurt too many times, and now she was showing up at his door because she believed she was good for nothing else. Good for only this. For sex. With stranger. This night would be something to ease the ache in her body even though she was convinced that the ache in her heart was a permanent stain.

She was perfect.

He pulled open the door. “Hello,” he said, keeping his voice soft and inviting. “You can’t possibly be the woman from the WildLove app, can you?” He made an obvious effort of looking her up and down, checking her out. She was tremendously beautiful—long brown hair, deep brown eyes. Luminous skin, pale. “It can’t be that I have found such a treasure simply through an app.”

A delicate blush graced her face. He had to wonder at all the horribles that must’ve happened to her to have a compliment be so rare that it still brought a blush to her face.

“Well, I could say the same about you.” She swallowed and seemed to be embarrassed about sneaking looks at his body.

He stepped back. “Please come in.”

She stepped inside, and he quietly closed the door behind her. With a sweep of his arm, he invited her deeper into the hotel suite, avoiding the bed and shepherding her toward the less intimidating couch in the center of the living area, in front of the fireplace.

“Please have a seat.”

She did, looking up at him with those wide brown eyes.

He had no idea who this woman was, but that innocent look speared guilt through him, regardless. She didn’t know the danger she was walking into. And he could tell she was already halfway to being seduced without him even trying.

He sat beside her, deliberately letting his leg casually brush against hers and then pulling back. She seemed to be steeling herself not to flinch away. He draped his arm across the back of the couch, not touching her but coming close.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Rebecca?” She looked at him a little oddly like he should’ve known that.

And he should have… only he had gone through a hundred choices before settling on the dozen meetups, and he hadn’t kept track of their names.

“Is that your real name?” he asked, hopefully covering for his mistake. “No one seems to use their real names on the app.”

“Oh!” That delicate flush came to her face again. “I didn’t realize…” She dropped her gaze, flitting it across the couch between them. “This is my first time. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to use my real name. I guess I should’ve known that.”

He reached for her chin with his finger and gently lifted it up so that she would have to look him in the eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. This is my first time, too.” What was one more lie among many?

“Really?” she asked. He could feel her naiveté like a bitter sweetness. Her gullibility was another stab through his heart.

“Yes, but I have a feeling it’s going to be my last.” He brushed the back of his hand up her cheek, and her lips parted. He slipped his hand into her hair and gently pulled her toward him as he leaned in for the kiss. He kept it soft and hesitant at first, then a little stronger. She came alive in his arms, her hands skimming featherlight across his shoulders and into his hair as if she didn’t know quite what to do with them.

She was delicious, and he could feel her opening up to him like a fresh, new flower.

She was the one.

He could have sex with her and have her falling in love with him before dawn. And it was a certainty that he wouldn’t fall in love with her—partly because he was already in love with Arabella, and partly because seducing this woman was like crushing a kitten. He was dragging her into a fate she didn’t expect nor deserve.

He deepened his kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue, and dropping his hand to caress her breast. She moaned, and her breathing hitched. Her arousal perfumed the air and stiffened his cock. He would have no trouble having sex with her—she was just the kind his body responded to, soft and sweet and hungry—but this would be all about her pleasure, not his. He could already tell that on the first orgasm, he would have her heart. Then he would have to set about repairing the darkness and damage deep inside her by lavishing her with praise and sweet concern.

Even as he leaned her back on the couch, covering her with his body and grinding his cock against her, to let her know he desired her as well, he couldn’t help thinking how different she was from Arabella. This woman had been defeated by her darkness, and she would need Lucian to save her from it. But Arabella… she’d already rescued herself. He had only to remind her body that it could love again, that was all. The rest had been just a repeat of that reminder, again and again, causing her open to him a little more each time and paving the way for the full reclaiming of her own self. For Arabella, he was merely the key that unlocked her ability to completely heal herself. She was the one who opened the door and did the work. She was already a master at taking darkness and turning it into light. She did it every day with others… she only needed a reminder of how to do it with herself.

The body underneath him writhed and bucked. He dropped his lips to her neck, tasting her there and burying his face in her billow of brown hair.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice soft and seductive in her ear, as he let his hands travel down and feel every curve of her body.

“Oh God,” she breathed.

His hand slipped down into the front of her pants, finding her sex already dripping wet.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she panted.

He worked her sex with one hand, using the other to weave into her hair and hold her tight. He needed to keep her still as she squirmed underneath him so that he could wrench pleasure out of her softness with his strength. He was already envisioning himself buried in her, the soft sweep of her hair against his face as he gripped her sweet flesh in his hands.

He nibbled at her neck and whispered in her ear, “Do you want more?”

“Oh yes.” She moaned and bucked again as he worked her sex even harder.

A haze was drawing over his mind. The power of her ache, her need, was flooding his mind. His thoughts cast back to that blessedly endless time when he had Arabella in his bed. Making her come the first time, and the tenth, and the twentieth after that. It was a haze of lust and love and sex, touching and loving, building and falling on great waves of pure pleasure. “Oh, how I’m going to make you come, my sweet Arabella…”

She and he both froze with his words.

A shock of horror ripped through him. He stilled the motion of his hand working her body. Then he pulled his hand away.

“Who is Arabella?” The woman asked, but she was already scrambling back on the couch to get away from him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, grimaced. Fuck. How far gone was he that he had allowed that to happen? He just shook his head and opened his eyes. Small tears were trickling lines down Rebecca’s face.

“Oh God,” she said, only this time it was filled with fear. “You’re going to hurt me, aren’t you?”

Guilt speared through him again for giving her even that small measure of fear, but the truth was that she was lucky—she was escaping a fate worse than she knew. “You should leave.”

Her eyes went even wider, and she started trembling, but she scrambled off the couch and tugged hastily at her clothes to straighten them. She was shaking and crying and made to bolt toward the door. He caught her wrist to stop her as she tried to fly past him. At least he could undo some of the damage he’d already done in mere moments with her.

“It’s not you, Rebecca. It’s definitely me. Everything I said was true. You’re beautiful and sexy, and any man would be lucky to have your heart. Please try again. With someone who isn’t broken, like me.”

He released her, but his words didn’t seem to ease her panic. She fled for the door, hurrying out of it and pulling it shut behind her.

Lucian leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. Fuck, he’d screwed that up, but good. And he had been thoroughly deluding himself about this working. Goddammit. He had been thinking about Arabella the entire time while taking this woman’s clothes off. Those weren’t Rebecca’s breasts he was fondling, they were Arabella’s. Fuck. And now that he was out of that delusional haze of lust, his inner dragon was disgusted by what he had done.

This woman—Rebecca—was exactly the type that Lucian needed to fulfill his duty, but she wasn’t even close to what his dragon wanted. Only Arabella would do, whether she was even in the room or not. Lucian angrily stood and paced the room again, glancing at the clock to see when the next woman was to arrive. But a creeping horror seeped into him—he wasn’t going to find anyone who would be more perfect for seduction than Rebecca, and he hadn’t even come close to executing on it. The only reason his dragon had gone along at all with the charade was because his thoughts were drenched in Arabella.

Because he’d already shed blood for her. Already risked everything for her.

And his dragon had made the decision for him— she was his mate, and no other would do.

The despair of that carved deep into him, and he felt the wildness of his wyvern stir in his blood. It wanted out. Wanted to find her and claim her. His beast wanted to seal her against her will, plant his seed in her, spawn a dragonling, all of it. That was the price of reaching this stage without mating—his instincts were kicking in, his animal nature taking over as a matter of survival. Whether Lucian liked it or not, his dragon would revert to a brutal animal and claim his mate—in a rape that was designed to impregnate and procreate and extend his life.

He couldn’t do that to Arabella, for fuck’s sake.

He would sooner slit his own throat.

That was it—he would have to sequester himself, allow himself to go wyvern in some place where he would be trapped or killed. Under no circumstances could his wyvern be allowed to reach her. Because it was clear, there would be no other woman for him.

Humanity would be damned, but he would not let her be the first casualty.

Lucian strode out of the hotel suite, leaving the door ajar and not looking back.