Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
FIONA
H e’s not human.
It should be an anticlimactic realization or else no realization at all. After the first time I saw his wings, I believed he was a dragon, whatever that meant. But believing something in your mind and really experiencing what it means are two very different things. Connor is a black as slate, size of an airplane, claws and teeth the length of my body, fire-breathing dragon! His wings in his human form are the least strange thing about him. I watched him transform into a creature of nightmares. A creature that could swallow me whole but didn’t.
Of all the Stephen King-worthy, twisted and terrifying plot turns I thought my life would take, having a prehistoric fantasy creature experience some kind of animalistic love at first sight and take me back to his lair King Kong–style was not one of them. And the craziest part, the part I’m trying to fight with everything in me, is that I feel it too. This bond he says we have, it’s there, undeniably. I’ve been attracted to men before, physically attracted. I’ve taken lovers. Once, in my twenties, on my own for the first time and missing my sister so much I could barely breathe, I went home with a man I met in a bar and had the most intense sex of my life. His name was Brayden, and it was the beginning of a six-month relationship.
My attraction to Brayden is a raindrop compared to the tsunami of desire I feel for Connor. The magnetic pull is a ground-shaking, all-encompassing, fire-blazing, breath-stealing sensory overload. It’s like there’s a wire binding my sternum to his, and someone is cranking it a little shorter each day.
I should be afraid after what I just saw, after what just happened between us. Or if not afraid, at least curious. How does shifting work? How does that giant dragon even fit inside this large but much smaller man? Where do shifters come from? Have they always lived among us? So many questions should be at the forefront of my mind. But if I’m honest with myself, I didn’t run away from his dragon form because I was afraid of it. I ran because I was confused. I was confused about why I wasn’t afraid. Because when I saw Connor shift, I definitely felt something.
I felt relieved.
I felt aroused.
I felt safe.
And given the circumstances, none of those feelings make sense .
Perfectly content in his arms, I watch him while I let those thoughts, the reality of this situation, further sink in.
It’s all so confusing because he did kidnap me. From my wedding. To a potential murderer. Technically I’m still engaged to Roman. I barely know Connor. Am I becoming one of those women who always goes for the wrong guy? Because I am falling for him. Inexcusably, inexplicably, falling.
Connor kicks open the door, and Bones jogs in. He shoulders it closed behind us and sets me on my feet before helping me out of my coat. “Are you cold? Do you want some tea or something?” He kneels down before me and helps me take my boots off.
“No. I’m fine.” I watch him hang up the coat and hat. “Are you angry that I ran? Are you going to lock me in my room now so I don’t run away again?” My voice is light, as if I’m making a joke about what happened, but there’s a real question there.
He glances up at me. “It’s twenty-four degrees outside, and you’re exhausted. Do you want to run away again?” He stands and reaches for the doorknob, holding it wide open. An icy blast hits me in the face.
“Uh, no.”
He closes the door and gently adjusts my windswept hair. “I’m not angry. I’m proud that you handled it so well. And you won’t find the doors in this house locked. You’ve always been welcome to go anywhere on the property you please.” He traces my jaw with his knuckle.
For some reason, I can’t seem to move. Alex Rogue would know what to do in this situation. She’d never quit trying to escape. She’d run to her room and lock the door, then make a plan to shimmy out the window and steal the housekeeper’s car. Or, if she thought she needed Connor’s help to solve a case, she’d take him as a lover and not think twice about the ramifications. But I’m not Alex, and I don’t want to go anywhere.
“Do you want some tea or something?” he asks again.
His eyes are stormy blue again, his pupils round, not the green slitted ones of his dragon. “Does it hurt when you shift?”
“Only when I do it too fast.”
“And the fire breathing... does that happen a lot?”
“Only when I need it to.” His expression turns sheepish. “Or am trying to impress a mate.”
“It was impressive.” I glance down at my toes, my head spinning with questions. “So... how much control do you have when you’re, um?” I gesture awkwardly at the door as if that version of him is still outside.
He steps in closer and runs his hands down my arms. His voice is low, rusty, as he says, “I’ve never had a problem with control.” Somehow he makes it sound sexual, or maybe it’s the tension ratcheting up between us that makes me feel that way. Suddenly what happened between us last night feels like an appetizer.
“I should get back to work. I have a book to finish,” I say weakly.
“You can’t put me off forever. You know it’s true. You feel it. You’re mine.”
He’s so close I can feel the heat coming off his skin. My gaze falls on his lips, and I’m so tempted.
“I need… time. This is…” I shake my head .
He nods. “Okay.”
“Aren’t you a little hesitant? After seeing my scar or because I’m a washed-up novelist who almost married your nemesis?” I laugh at how ridiculous it sounds that this Nordic god of a man is even interested in me. “I’m honestly nothing special. Nothing to go to war for.”
He brushes my hair back from my eyes and tucks it behind my ear, shaking his head. “How is it that you can’t see how beautiful you are, Fiona? You’re breathtaking. Do you think your scar was what distracted me when I helped you change your first day here? Hell no. Seeing you naked, I almost swallowed my tongue. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever encountered.”
I swallow hard, backing away from him. I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure what to think.
He draws back. “I’ll tell Zaire to bring you that tea.”
I nod and then race for the safety of my room.