25. Killian
Briar’s cry has me running before my brain can catch up and figure out where I’m headed. The underbrush snags my boots, trying to trip me, but I kick free and keep moving before realizing I was mistaken. She iswhere I left her, more or less. Her shout came from up on top of the big rock.
What the hell is she doing up there?
She’s too close to the edge. Dirt and pebbles rain down as she backs up a half-step at a time. She’s going to fall?—
I fling aside my sword and brace, arms outstretched, to catch her. She stumbles but catches herself and manages to remain upright.
A shadow creeps over her, its shape one I’d prayed to all the fae gods never to see again. I never pray, but for one thing: please don’t ever make me confront a dragon again. Once was enough.
The oversized lizard looms over her. Hairs on the back of my neck rise like hackles. They like to play with their prey.
According to lore, the monsters can talk, but the one I killed didn’t speak.
Fucking Alistair, ragging me for being illiterate as if I didn’t spend months studying how to track and kill the one wreaking havoc on Belterre.
“Briar, jump!”
Startled, she whips around, her long hair flying out. Her arms windmill, and she loses her balance all at once. She hits my chest with enough force to knock me backward a step. I clutch her close.
Safe.
If she’s with me, she’s safe. I clutch her tightly, breathing in her intoxicating scent.
“Ow.” She shakes one arm and wraps the other around my neck. “Are you made of iron, Killian?”
“Only my heart.”
Not the only thing that’s hard. Even now, when our lives are at stake, I want her. Hell, the danger only makes my need to bed her more urgent.
“That’s what you’re concerned about?” I jerk my head. “Not that?”
“My elbow hurts.” She winces, then glances cautiously at the dragon. “I don’t think it means me any harm.”
I set her on her feet. “You are insane. Dragons eat people. It’s not going to make an exception for us.”
Briar laughs. “It seems to be more curious than menacing. All it did was sniff my skirt.”
We back away from the rocky hillock, staring up as the dragon shuffles forward, lowering its massive head to stare directly at her. I snatch up my sword and push Briar behind me.
Sure enough, it whuffs as if trying to scent her.
“That’s a little one,” I inform her.
“I’d hate to see a big one,” she mutters.
“See the diamond-shaped scale on its forehead?” At this proximity, it’s a rhetorical question. “My shield is made from the one I defeated.” I tap my fist to my chest. “This was made from the smaller scales.”
The dragon’s elongated catlike pupils dilate suddenly as it fixates on me. A high-pitched whine starts in its throat, and hot breath blasts out between dagger-sharp teeth.
If it had been full-grown, we’d have been incinerated where we stand. Instead, the beast spreads its leathery wings and pumps, taking flight.
Briar tucks her soft hand into mine. We stand like that, gaping at the retreating monster in awed silence.
I’ve never shared a moment like this with anyone. Never had anyone to share with. That fragile tender feeling is back, winding around that spot near my heart. Part of me wants to fortify it behind a wall of impenetrable dragon scales.
To keep her inside with me.
I’m so fucked. This is supposed to be temporary. I’m no hero. No knight in shining armor. I’m the man who’s worse than the monsters. That’s all. I can’t let her worm her way beneath my skin like this.
“Killian.”
Briar moves in front of me, sliding her hands up my chest. She exhales in a shaky breath. Still rattled. Needing something from me.
We’re alone.
Right.
A fraction of a second later I have my hands in her hair and my lips on hers in a devouring kiss.
“I can’t touch you,” she complains, breaking contact with an adorable growl of frustration. “This. Off. How?”
She fumbles with the buckles on my armor. I free them with a quick motion and shrug out of the hard shell encasing my upper body. Briar makes a sound of feminine satisfaction that goes straight to my dick. The fucking dress has got to go. Immediately. Before I lose my mind.
Driven by frustrated need, I fist her bodice in both hands, level my elbows and rip the damn thing straight down the center. Briar blinks up at me, and for a minute I’m worried I scared her. She’s an innocent, despite her boldness with me yesterday.
A slow smile spreads over her lush lips. She shoves the pieces of her dress down and kicks them away, then tugs the hem of my shirt out of my pants.
I break.
I scoop her up, my hands under her glorious ass, and deposit her on a pile of moss-covered rocks at the base of the outcropping.
No bed. No finesse. Rutting her here in the damn forest like an animal.
“You deserve so much better than me,” I grit out, shoving her white under-dress down. “Better than what I can give you.”
“Shut up and get this off, Killian.” Briar yanks on my shirt. “Why are you so difficult to undress?”
“You just need practice. And a bed.”
“I laid in a bed for a hundred years. I don’t need one now.”
White fabric falls away, a minimal protective barrier between her petal-soft skin and the rough rock. Shuddery heat blasts my skin at the sight of her perfect breasts.
I would do literally anything to possess this woman. Lie to my best friend. Cheat. There is no depth to which I would not descend if it meant I could keep her.
I can’t. But I have her now, and I intend to make the most of it.
“Killian.”
I have to drag my eyes up to meet hers. A knowing smile plays on her gorgeous lips. Temptress. Wanton. She looks so alive and happy, a rosy flush on her cheeks gracing the creamy expanse above her breasts.
Fuck me, I’ve never seen tits like hers. Pert and soft and oh gods?—
“Killian. Stop staring and touch me already.”
They fit in my hands like they were made for me alone. A groan gusts out of me, lost in her hair. She puts her hands on my belt but the angle is awkward, with her perched on the rocks and her legs at my flanks and me squeezing her divine tits, going out of my mind at the feel of her. My arms are in her way but I’m not moving them until I’ve had my fill.
“Not yet.”
I brush her hands away from my waist, ignoring her whine of protest, and lean in for a deep kiss. She tastes like nectar and honey. I run my tongue along her delicate jaw, pausing to nip her earlobe. Briar’s small hands dance up my shoulders and across my back.
Shy, but not hesitant. A little unsure, but eager to explore.
She’ll be my destruction.
“How long do we have before they come looking for us?” Her breath skims over the rim of my ear. Her teeth graze it gently. Not ferocious enough. I want her to bite me, to sink her claws into me.
She could tear me apart and I’d still welcome every tormented touch.
“Not long.”
I press hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat, tasting her velvety skin as she moans beneath me. Dropping to one knee, I suck one nipple. She clutches my hair, her needy little whimpers music to my ears.
“Then hurry,” she begs. Fuck. I want to draw this out, take my time, but time is something we don’t have. All I can give her is the same rough treatment I’ve offered every other woman, when I want to give her so much more.
A lifetime wouldn’t be enough time to explore all the dirty things I want to do with her. What little time we do have together I want to be perfect.
I graze my knuckle up her inner thigh. My dick strains eagerly against the prison of my pants. She shifts anxiously, parting for me. Her grip on my hair tightens, but the tug at the roots only threatens to make me explode.
Finding her humid center, I trace her dripping wet slit and pop off her breast with a low groan.
“You debased little princess,” I chuckle mirthlessly, driving hard inside her with two fingers, curling them up. “You don’t want the fairy tale, do you? You’ve lusted after me from the start. The scarred knight you’re not supposed to have.”
She makes a sound that might be agreement, indignance, or encouragement—or all three.
“What’s that, Briar?”
“Yes, Killian. The things you do to me make me feel…” She trails off. I pinch her clit to bring her back to me. A shudder rolls up her body, causing a tremor in those glorious tits.
“How do I make you feel, Princess?”
Her blue eyes narrow at me. “Alive.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want you feeling dead.”
She laughs at my stupid joke. Nobody ever does that. The sound is too sweet in my ears. I reward her by shoving her knees apart and draping her legs over my shoulders. Cool air kisses my bare back as I feast on her sweet little pussy. The taste of her will haunt my dreams for as long as I live.
I flip my belt open with a quiet slap of leather and take my cock in hand, stroking in rhythm with my tongue lapping up her pleasure.
The scar on my forearm throbs. I ignore it and focus on Briar’s climax. She explodes against my tongue, clenching my hair and using it to hold me. I squeeze my shaft to keep from going over the edge with her.
I press kisses to her creamy thighs as I rock back on my heels and extract my head from the place where I would gladly take my last breath. I resist the temptation to mark her there. A nip, a suck, leaving evidence that she isn’t an untouched maiden flowering across the softest parts of these perfect legs on her wedding night.
A rush of madness takes hold.
I surge upright. Briar is right there to meet me with a kiss so filled with longing that I feel my hardened heart crack.
I can’t do it. Leave her behind for a pile of rocks on a mountain?
Yanking her hips closer to the edge, I position my cock where it’s been aching to be for days. Digging shaking fingers into her hips—I press my forehead to hers and plead, “Tell me you’re ready, Briar. Tell me you want this.”
“Killian. Please.”
With the sound of her begging for my cock echoing in my ears, I slide home into her tight, wet heat, and nearly weep with relief.