Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
SEB
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Everything about Zoe is as intoxicating as the finest wine.
As I slip behind the wheel, her scent fills the cab of the truck, a combination of clean linen, fresh-cut pear, and clementine.
It might as well be pure pheromones. I’d been attracted to her before, but this is off the charts and highly unusual. I’ve got to pull myself together.
“Seb, are you okay? You’re sweating.”
I laugh and roll up my shirt sleeves, running a finger along the inside collar of my shirt and unbuttoning the next button. “It’s a little hot,” I mumble.
My dragon wants her. Wants her like he’s never wanted anyone. A delicious daydream fills my head of what it would feel like to grab that tiny waist of hers, pull her over to my side of the cab so she was straddling me, and show her exactly what it’s like to be with a dragon.
Mine.
No, no, no, no, I tell my inner dragon. Alignment or not, Zoe Willow is not mate material for so many reasons.
Mine, my inner dragon insists.
I swallow and turn the key in the ignition.
“Oh.” We both reach for the air conditioning at the same time, and her hand brushes mine. She grabs my forearm, then moves her palm to my forehead. “You’re burning up. And God, your eyes are…”
I blink and start going over first-quarter sales figures in my head. Gently, I remove her hand from my head. “I’m fine, really. Thanks, though.” Shit. My voice is a rusted-out scrap heap, all rough grit. I start the car and pull into traffic.
Her hand is still hovering between us, her ruby lips parted. She blinks and reaches for her seat belt. “Is that a dragon thing?”
“Is what a dragon thing?”
“When you touch me, it’s like…”
I raise an eyebrow. I know exactly what it’s like… for me. Like someone just plugged me in. But I’m curious what it feels like to her. “Like what?”
“Hot.” A cherry blush creeps up her neck to her ears, and her eyes widen. “I mean, like really warm and tingly and like—”
“Maybe it’s just a man and woman thing,” I say, flashing a seductive smile. “I can’t help it if you find me hot.”
“I didn’t mean—”
I break the tension building in the cab with a laugh. “I’m fucking with you, Zoe. Dragons run hotter than the general population. That’s what you’re feeling.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she leans back in her seat and seems to relax a bit. “So, where are you taking me? You mentioned a cabin with a studio.”
I nod. “A private property in the San Gabriel mountains.”
“How far?”
“A couple hours.”
“Goddess.”
“It’s important, Zoe.”
“You keep saying that, but you can’t tell me more—”
“Until we get there,” I finish for her.
She looks out the window and grows quiet. A half hour later, she’s asleep.
“Zoe, we’re here.” I shake her shoulder gently.
A line of spit trails from the corner of her lip to her shoulder.
Before I can think not to, I reach out and wipe it away with my thumb.
That’s when her eyes open, and she stares right into mine.
With my hand gently cupping her cheek and my thumb stained with her red lipstick, I try to speak but can’t think of a single thing to say.
Her lips part, and nothing comes out of her mouth either.
I clear my throat and draw back to my side of the car. “We’re here. You, uh, fell asleep.”
Before I do something I’ll regret, I hop out of the truck and reach behind the seats for her bag.
The sun is setting, and it casts a glorious pink and blue backdrop across the mountains.
It’s stunning, but all I care about is the eight-foot security wall that surrounds the property, the cameras that never stop running, and the armed guards who staff the security hut at the front gate.
“This is what you call a cottage?”
I round the truck to find Zoe staring at the house. I guess it’s true that if she was expecting a rustic cabin, she might be disappointed. This place is an architectural marvel of glass and steel, designed by renowned architect Benjamin Foster to reflect and blend with the natural beauty around it.
“You don’t like it?” I ask her.
She turns to me. “Of course I like it. Did you not just see the pit I was living in?” She points vaguely in a direction that isn’t even close to the way we came from her old apartment. “It’s just, I wasn’t expecting the place to be quite so large or so…”
“Pretentious?” I fill in with a wince, trying to see it through her eyes.
She starts, “No! It’s not pretentious, it’s… It’s…a work of art. A blending of livable space, architectural strength, and natural beauty.”
My heart pounds. I love that she appreciates it. “Wait until you see inside.” I take her hand, lead her up the steps, and through the front door that Patrick holds open for us. He bows when we enter. “Sir, there are several messages from—”
“I’ll take care of it,” I say. I’ve purposely been ignoring calls from the brotherhood. I’ve got no good news to share with them, and I’m not ready to hear the bad news yet.
“Shall I show Ms. Willow to her room?” Patrick asks.
“No,” I say, too quickly and with far too much force. “I’ll do it. We’ll have dinner in the dining room in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.” Patrick takes off toward the kitchen.
“Wait, so this is your house? I’ll be living under your roof?” she asks, sounding concerned. “I thought you said I would be provided with a place to live in after I was done with this job. One with a studio.”
“This isn’t technically my home. I don’t live here year-round.
And your place, well, let me show you.” I lead her out past the pool to the small two-bedroom home behind it.
It’s a smaller version of the main house but still twice the size of her apartment.
Technically, the thing started as a pool house, but no one would call it that anymore.
I unlock the door for her and then hand her the key as we step into the open floor plan designed in white leather and natural wood.
“It’s so light and airy,” she says through a smile.
I love how excited her voice sounds, like I’ve just proven Santa is real. “It’s yours.”
I show her the chef’s kitchen and then the second bedroom that’s been converted to a recording studio with state-of-the-art equipment. She doesn’t say a word, just sets her guitar case down and runs her red-tipped nails over the counters, the backs of chairs. I end the tour in her new bedroom.
She passes me as I set her luggage inside the closet, and I get a whiff of her scent. Creator, I have to squeeze my eyes shut against the swell of my inner dragon. Stupid. What did I think, I could stand in a room with her and a bed and be able to control my desire?
Claim her.
Sweat breaks out across my neck. I open my eyes and am relieved to hear her opening drawers in the ensuite bathroom.
I take a step back and then another. Her scent fades with the click of the AC turning on.
Another step and I’m safely outside the door.
“If you need anything, Patrick can get it for you,” I call to her, as I make my way toward the door.
“Just give him a list. I’ll need the keys to your old apartment for the movers.
Anything you don’t want brought here, we can put into storage. ”
I hear her testing a few of the drawers in the dresser.
“So, uh, I’m going to head back up to the house and let you settle in. Dinner will be in the dining room in an hour.” I’ve done it. I’m about to walk out the door without having done anything I’ll regret.
“Seb?” Zoe rushes from the bedroom, spots me near the front door, and hurls herself at me. Before I know what’s happening, her arms are around my neck, and she’s kissing my cheek. “Thank you. I still can’t believe this is real! Oh my god, thank you!”
It’s like I’ve been starving and the juiciest, most tantalizing steak has just leaped onto my plate. My arms wrap around her, one hand digging into her hair, my instant erection pressed against her belly. She feels it and looks at me, her eyelids fluttering.
Her breath is coming in pants, and so is mine. Our noses are so close, they’d touch if she flinched, and her lips… Oh god, those ruby-red lips. I long to taste them. I can smell her brand of lipstick. I can feel her breath on my mouth.
She’s not pulling away, but inner turmoil turns her blue eyes to steel.
If I kiss her now, if I give in to the urges of my inner beast, she’ll assume this is part of the arrangement, some unspoken aspect required by a wink.
I want her. Want her as my mate, if I’m being honest with myself.
I’m not sure how that works with witches, but it’s a one-way door for someone like me.
Which means I have to be careful. And starting in a place like this would only complicate things for both of us.
I release her and clear my throat. “So, uh, I’ll see you in the main house in an hour. Bring whatever you need to analyze the object. We’ll start tonight.”
“Okay,” she says breathlessly, her eyes lingering on my face, even though she must have felt what’s going on in my pants.
I slip out the door and draw in a deep, cleansing breath, relieved to put temptation behind me. And far too aware that, from now on, temptation will be my nearest neighbor.