Chapter 7
Kendra
The sound of something clanging woke me up.
I shot up and looked across the cave. Jaceon was crouched in the corner, picking something up off the floor. He didn’t have a shirt on, and the sweats he had on were snug at his hips.
I bit my lip.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to wake you. I wanted you to have some food ready when you woke up.”
I smiled at him. It was a nice gesture.
Then I reminded myself I hadn’t technically agreed to any breakfast-in-bed treatment.
“How are your feet?” he asked.
I wiggled my toes. I had been so full of adrenaline yesterday that I had ignored the pain. Today I didn’t feel a thing. I reached down and touched the sole of my foot. There was no sign of a cut. No scab. Nothing.
I ran my fingers between my toes. Then up the side of my foot. Then around my ankle.
He cleared his throat and shifted his weight.
The cave smelled like leather.
“What kind of medicine or salve do you think that was?” I asked. “I don’t know what you all have out in Shadow Wolf Creek, but it was amazing.”
He shrugged. “I’m not from here. I’ll ask Gladys the next time we meet.”
“So where are you from?” I asked and turned to look at him.
He sighed. “Somewhere a lot different.”
“So, what, you just passing through?”
“Not exactly.” He stood up with the plate in his hand and walked toward me.
The closer he got, the louder the leather smell got.
“Is that cologne?”
His brow wrinkled. “I don’t wear cologne.”
He held the plate out. I reached for it.
Our fingers brushed.
Heat shot up my arm, and a cramp started low in my belly. I screamed, dropped the plate, and went down on my knees. My nipples tightened. Sweat broke out across my back. I felt the wet slip out of me and soak through my jeans.
“Kendra—”
He was down beside me. He put his hand on the small of my back, and I moaned.
“What is wrong with me?” I was shaking.
He inhaled sharply and pulled his hand off me. He stood up and stepped back.
The cramp eased, and I sat back on my heels and stared at the plate on the floor.
Maybe I was catching the flu.
What flu had ever made me so wet that it soaked through my jeans?
I got to my feet and wiped my forehead.
My phone rang.
I followed the sound and found it on the fur.
Tavailia.
The wave hit me again. It was worse this time. The phone slipped out of my hand. It buzzed against the stone four more times and went silent.
“I have to go. I have to get to that meeting,” I said as I got to my feet.
I shoved past him and headed for the mouth of the cave.
He was in front of me before I made it three steps.
“You can’t walk on those feet.”
“Move.”
“You heard Gladys. The skin is new. You step out there, and you split it open.”
“Move, Jaceon.”
I shoved at his chest. He didn’t move. He bent and picked me up
“Damn it, Jaceon, put me down. That was my one shot. I have to get to that meeting so I can prove what he tried to do to me.”
He stopped walking.
“You’re not stepping outside on those feet. Tell me who hurt you.”
A fresh wave of slick slid out of me. I mewed.
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Unless you have thirty grand to pay these people, you put me down and let me go.”
He looked at me. "Give me your information. I'll send it right now."
I rattled my checking account information off.
I figured he was full of it. He walked me over to the sweater and sat me down, and being that close to him made it hard to think straight — the pull was already crawling up the back of my neck.
He pulled out his phone. Started pushing buttons.
I was trying to watch, trying to stay mad, but he was right there, and my skin had gone hot, and none of me was listening to the part that wanted to leave.
He turned the phone toward me. A payment. A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I just stared at it.
“I said thirty. This is too much,” I said, never taking my eyes off the screen.
“So, what do you want? To send it back to me?” I shook my head no. I picked up the phone and sent my lawyer a text.
Waiting for the ACH to clear. Where do I send it? A bubble. An account number. I hit the button and set my phone down
I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I needed to feel him against me. I stood up and walked over to him and wrapped my arms around him. He grabbed me by the hips and lifted me up.
I twisted in his grip and got my arms up around his neck and pulled myself up, so I was facing him. My legs hooked around his hips. I pressed my lips on the side of his jaw. He whimpered and stopped walking. Then I bit his shoulder.
A growl rolled up out of his chest, and I felt it in my ribs because I was pressed against him.
A fresh wave of slick rolled out of me. I grabbed at his chest and started grinding down on his hip. My nipples drew up so tight they hurt.
He wobbled and braced a hand against the wall. “You haven’t said yes yet,” he said as he sat me back down.
He bent to set me down on the sweater, and I kept my arms around his neck. He reached up and pulled them off my wrist one at a time. I arched up against him. He pinned my hands down on either side of my head and stared at me.
His eyes were amber.
I was still moaning and lifted my hips.
He turned and walked out.
I called after him.
Why had he left me here? Was I going into some type of hysteria? Was there an infection driving me crazy from the cuts on my feet? Maybe he had gone to get someone to help me.
I rolled to my side and yelped. My nipples were tight and sore.
The slick kept coming out of me.
I sat up, yanked off my shirt, and kicked my soaked jeans off. This was embarrassing. What type of sickness required this?
I pressed my thighs together. It didn’t help. I could feel my clit throbbing.
Maybe if I just rubbed myself, I could take the edge off.
I lay back and pulled my panties to the side. I rubbed the top of my clit. It was swollen.
The smell of leather was back.
I rolled my head toward the entrance, and he was standing there watching me with a stone bowl in his hand. He licked his lips and walked over.
He set the bowl down.
I waited for him to climb on top of me.
My thighs were already open.
He picked up a towel instead.
He leaned over the bowl.
His jaw clenched. His nostrils flared. A thin stream of smoke escaped from his nose.
He leaned down, and a small flame poured out of his mouth across the water. The water hissed and steamed.
“I’ll take you to the stream to bathe tomorrow,” he said. His voice was lower than it had been before.
“But I can’t take you out. Not like this. On day one, every male within the vicinity would rush over to you, and I would have to kill them all.”
He rolled his neck. His jaw twisted to the side. For a second, his eyes were slits and red as fire.
I reached up and stroked his arm.
He was sitting here talking about killing men, and instead of being afraid, I was reaching for him. He had said day one. What did that even mean?
“What are you talking about? Day one of what?”
“You’re in heat.”
I scoffed.
“I am a human woman. I do not go into heat.”
“You’re in a cave with me. It’s triggering your body into ovulation.”
I stared at him.
My thighs were sticky.
It was clear as day that something was going on, and he was a dragon, so it was possible he was altering my biology. Was this what it felt like to prepare for mating with a dragon? And why didn’t that appall me as much as it should have? Maybe part of the appeal was taking away resistance.
“That’s why I can’t keep my hands off you. You’re making my body a freak.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to take anything from you.”
A part of me was relieved.
I knew for a fact that a human man who caught me in this position wouldn’t have shown so much restraint. I was lying here half-naked, covered in slick. I knew my scent had to be on ten. And he was fighting his own body to protect me even though every part of me was offering itself up.
Sweat beaded at my hairline. I mewed and lifted my hips.
“I brought some towels. The warm water will help.”
He leaned over me and dipped a towel in the bowl. I ran my hand up and down his side. He was hot to the touch. He froze.
Then he turned back to the water.
I ran my hands slowly up his chest. He closed his eyes for a second. Then he took my hands and laid them at my sides.
I winced as the towel touched my skin. Not because it was too hot, but because it set my body off, my nerves sang with the pressure of it. His fingers brushed the sensitive crease of my neck. I shivered.
“Lean back,” he said, his voice gravelly.
I bit the inside of my cheek and obeyed. The towel ran down my collarbone, then to the middle of my chest. His nostrils flared.
I arched into his touch without meaning to.
He growled. I opened my eyes to find him glowing. He shook his head, dipped the towel back into the bowl of water, and kept washing me.
He dragged it across my stomach. He put his hand on my belly and pushed me down.
His head dipped toward the curve of my throat, and I felt him inhale, his nose almost grazed the skin under my ear. He didn’t touch me. He just breathed me in. Then he pulled back.
My legs fell open. He ran the towel down my thighs. I felt the points of his claws pressing through the cloth. I gasped and arched, his hands were trembling.
“You have to wash me, Jaceon,” I whispered, my voice thick with need. “The slick is too thick. It makes me uncomfortable.”
The cool air hit my skin, and I whined.
He grabbed a fresh towel, dampened it, and spread me open.
His body shuddered. He put a hand on the floor to brace himself.
He bent his head. His nose dragged up the inside of my thigh.
I grabbed the sweater beneath me, my body coiled tight with anticipation. He inhaled deeply and growled, and then—
He pulled back. I wanted him to pin me down and take me. But instead, he grabbed the towel and wiped me clean.
He pulled the sweater up over me. He shifted into his dragon and ran out.