Heart Of The Dragon

Before her horror-filled eyes, his sword began to slice downward, aimed straight for her throat. He was going to kill her! On instinct, she swiped her gun from the waist of her pants. Her breath snagged in her throat, burning like acid as she squeezed the trigger. Click, click, click.

Nothing happened.

Shit. Shit! The cylinder was empty. She must have used all of her bullets on her bastard of a guide. The gun shook in her hand, and terror wrapped around her with the chill of a wintry storm. Her gaze scanned the cave, searching for a way out. The mist was the only exit, but the savage warrior’s big, strong body now blocked it.

“Please,” she whispered, not knowing what else to do or say.

Either the man didn’t hear her, or he didn’t care what she said. His sharp, deadly sword continued to inch closer and closer to her neck.

She squeezed her eyelids tightly shut.

Chapter Three

DARIUS UTTERED a fierce curse and allowed his sword to pass just in front of the woman, never actually touching her. The action danced a delicate breeze through the red tendrils of her hair. The fact that he could see the actual color, a tempest of carmine that tumbled around her shoulders, startled him enough that he hesitated to destroy the possessor of such brilliance.

He fought past his shock and gripped his weapon at his side, trying to prepare his limbs to wreak destruction. Trying to force icy determination through his veins and push away any thoughts of mercy or sorrow. He knew what he had to do. Strike. Destroy.

That was his oath.

But her hair…His eyes basked in their first intake of color in over three hundred years. His fingers itched to touch. His senses longed to explore. He should have hated it. He’d wanted his senses barren. Hadn’t he? But he’d looked at her, thought of the family he’d once loved, and his determination had cracked. That crack had been all his senses needed to activate.

Kill, his mind demanded. Act!

His teeth gnashed together, and his shoulders tightened. His tutor’s voice echoed through him. “Killing travelers is your obligation. Killing them is your privilege.”

There were times, like now, he loathed the tasks he performed, but never once had he hesitated to do what was needed. He’d simply continued on, assassination after assassination, knowing there was no other alternative for him. His dragon life force had long since overpowered his mortal side. There was a conscience living inside him, yes, but it was shriveled and decayed from lack of use.

So why was he hesitating now, with this traveler?

He studied her. Freckles dotted every inch of her skin, and streaks of dirt marred her jaw. Her nose was small and elfin, her lashes thick, sooty, and so long they cast spiky shadows on her cheeks. Slowly she opened her eyes, and he sucked in a heated breath. Her eyes were green and flecked with ribbons of blue, each color dusted with determination and fear. These new colors mesmerized him, enchanted him. Made his every protective instinct surface. Worse…

It shouldn’t have—gods, it shouldn’t have—but desire coiled inside him, powerful coils that refused to loosen their grip.

When the woman realized his sword tip pointed to the ground, she crouched down ever so slightly, clutching an oddly shaped metal object. He could only assume she was in attack position. She was frightened, true, but to survive she would fight him with all of her strength.

Could he really destroy such bravery?

Yes. He must.

He would.

Mayhap he truly was the heartless beast Tagart had called him. No, surely not, he thought in the next instant. The very actions that made him evil made him a keeper of the peace and provided safety for all residing in Atlantis.

There could be no other way.

Yet looking at this newest intruder, really looking at her, he felt like a beast. Her features were so guileless, so angelic, sparks of some unfamiliar emotion crackled within him. Concern? Regret? Shame?

A combination of all three?

The sensation was so new, he had trouble identifying exactly what it was. What made this traveler so different from the others that he hesitated—and, gods forbid, felt desire? The fact that she resembled a delicate fairy queen? Or the fact that she was everything he’d always secretly wanted—beauty, gentleness and joy—but knew he could never have?

Unbidden, his gaze drank in the rest of her. She was not tall, but had a regal bearing that gave her an air of height. Her skin was smudged with grime and sweat that did nothing to detract. Her clothing fit her rounded curves to perfection and paid her beauty proper homage.

More unwelcome sensations pulsed through him, unnamable sensations. Hated sensations. He should feel nothing; he should remain detached. But he felt; and he wasn’t. He yearned to trace his fingertips all over her, to immerse himself in her softness, to bask in her colorful brilliance. He yearned to taste, yes, actually taste her entire body and drive away the flavor of nothingness.

“No,” he said, more for his benefit than her own. “No.”

He must destroy her.

She had broken the law of the mist.

All those years ago a Guardian had failed to accomplish his duty, had failed to protect Atlantis, and in turn brought about the deaths of many people—people Darius had loved. He could not, would not allow even this fairy queen to survive.

Knowing this, Darius still remained in place, un-moving. His cold, hard logic warred against his primitive, male appetite. If only the woman would glance away…but seconds turned to minutes, and her gaze remained fixed on him, studying. Perhaps even appreciating.

Desperate to escape the mental hold she had on him, he demanded, “Turn your gaze, woman.”

Slowly, so slowly, she shook her head, whisking red tendrils around her temples. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Even her voice was innocent, soft and lyrical, a caress of his senses. Yet he had no idea what she had said.

“Damn this,” he muttered. “And damn me.”

The corners of his lips twitched in a scowl. He commanded himself to remain indifferent to her even while he sheathed his sword and closed the distance between them. There was no reason to do what he was about to do, but he could not stop himself. His actions were no longer controlled by his mind, but by some force he didn’t understand or want to acknowledge.

She gasped at his approach. “What are you doing?”

He pressed her back, crowding her until she met the rock-lined wall; she kept the metal object directed at him, the silly thing clicking over and over again. Did she truly expect to protect herself from a dragon warrior with such a useless object? He easily pried it from her fingers and tossed it behind his shoulder. Unbeaten, she lashed out, kicking and hitting and scratching like a wild demon.

He secured her by the wrists, pinning them above her head. “Cease,” he said. When she continued to squirm, he sighed and waited for her to tire. Only a few minutes passed before her movements slowed, then halted altogether.

“You’ll go to prison for this,” she said, dragging in breath after breath.

Her warm exhalations caressed his chest, their intoxicating sweetness a tangible entity that prodded his memory, another gentle reminder of the family he couldn’t quite banish from his mind. He almost jerked away from her, but the scent of fear and orchids enveloped him, a sensual declaration of her appeal. He’d smelled nothing but ash for so long; he couldn’t help but luxuriate in this new fragrance. Inhaling deeply, he pressed against her, brushing her body with his, closing all hint of separation. The need to touch her, any part of her, refused to leave him.

She shivered. From the cold? he wondered. Or from a turbulent desire similar to his own? Her nipples were pebbled against his ribs, erotically abrading, and as he watched her nibble her soft bottom lip, the arousal he felt for her became a storm. A desperate, wild storm. A storm so intense it was like a supernatural entity. His dragon’s blood flowed to his cock like a freshly sprung river, hot and consuming.

His lips curled into a self-disparaging smile. The moment he realized he was actually smiling, he frowned. How his men would have laughed to crown this dainty creature the winner of their wager. Yet he couldn’t seem to make himself care. By the gods, he’d never felt anything so perfect, so right.

His captive blinked up, and their gazes collided. Had white-hot sparks of awareness visibly enveloped them at that moment he would not have been surprised.

This woman is your enemy, he reminded himself, gritting his teeth and shifting his hips so that his erection remained a safe distance away.

“The mind is open, the ears will hear,” he bit out. “Understand we do, apart or near. My words are yours—your words are mine. This I speak. This I bind. From this moment, through all of time.”

Still watching her, he said, “Do you understand my words now?”

“Yes. I—I do.” Her eyes widened, darkening with renewed flecks of alarm. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she struggled to form a coherent rejoinder. “How?” was all she could manage. Her voice was strained. Then, she added more strongly, “How?”