Mere Passion (8 page)

He chanced a glance at her face and found that she smiled. He knew some of her amusement was at his expense, but still he couldn’t help but grin back. “As you may have guessed, I’ve never skied before.”

The princess’s smile widened and became softly mocking. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” She stepped back and appraised him.

“Your problem, dragon, is that you aren’t finishing your strokes. Each time you push off with your pole and your leg you should wait a beat before starting on the other side.”

She gave him a little demonstration, and he was amazed at her fluid movement, like she danced, or maybe swam over the snow. “Okay. Now it’s your turn, dragon.”

Her expectant gaze shot a thrill of fear through him. He would much rather fall and lose quietly on his own than appear ungraceful, or worse unmanly, in front of this girl.

With a deep breath, he pushed off and skied forward, utilizing each piece of information his various teachers had given. After a few strokes back and forth around the warm-up area the pace and movements became easier. He stopped in front of the princess and returned her happy expression. “I am very grateful to you, Alara.”

Her eyes widened a fraction when he said her name. Her cheeks, already ruddy from cold and exertion, darkened just a shade. “You’re welcome, dragon.” Those cold blue eyes sparkled, and something flashed in their depths. “I’m rooting for you.”

* * * *

Alara swung wildly along the snow, racing ahead of the pack of skiers. She led by a long margin. After her ski lesson, she’d hoped the dragon would master the skill enough to pose a challenge. Then again, everyone she knew had been skiing since they could walk. No one could learn enough to outpace her in just a day.

The pathway wound through thick banks of snow. As she moved inland, the pack hardened, becoming icy and squeaky under her skis. The fresh cold air filled her nose.

She registered a harsh scraping sound behind her. Deep, heavy breaths carried along the path. Her pulse sped up, and she pushed faster, excited, streaming over the snow. Soon a huge body was right behind her. Nothing could have pleased her more.

“Glad to see you finally caught up, dragon. You’re just in time to see me cross the finish line ahead of you.”

A low rumbling chuckle sounded behind her. “I think you are mistaken, Your Highness.” Kicking hard, he pulled alongside her. He flashed a feral smile, and she lost her pacing for a split second, just long enough for him to pull ahead. The finish line loomed a few dozen yards in the distance. Alara struggled to increase her momentum. Kai’s long legs extended long and graceful, and his enormous shoulders pulsed over his poles as he shot forward.

He crossed a split second before she did, and Alara swallowed the sharp stab of annoyance. Sure, she wanted him to challenge her, give her a run for her money. But beat her? No one had ever beaten her at the Games.

She watched as onlookers swarmed the dragon. Undoubtedly heaping praise on his already swollen head. Trying to keep the scowl off her face, she skied to the dragon, reaching her hand out to shake his. It wouldn’t do to sulk and appear unsportsmanlike. The dragon’s grip warmed hers as he held her hand for far longer than appropriate. They both still panted from exertion. The roar of the crowd almost drowned out the dragon saying, “It has been my honor to win these Games for you.”

* * * *

Gracie luxuriated in bed. She was still a bit tired from blood loss, but her body brimmed with life, simmered with the energy Karon had given her. Even more, she felt a pleasant ache each place he’d touched her. His rugged leather, salt and man smell still lingered on her sheets. She still felt the scrape from the crisp hair of his chest on her breasts.

She rose to get dressed. The ship seemed to tilt to the side, and Gracie struggled for a moment to keep her footing. Her hand came to rest on the cool leather of Karon’s jacket. Tears filled her eyes, and Gracie lifted it to her face, breathing in Karon’s smell. There was good in him. She knew it. She wouldn’t care about him so much if he was the villain he pretended to be.

She sat at her desk and waited for her email to download via the satellite phone line. It took what felt like hours. Two emails arrived from her Madame back in Greece and one from Cordelia Franzmeier, Madame for greater northern Europe. The later she opened with haste.

Dear Ms. Kisera,

I was very interested to receive your communications regarding the biotechnology company, Dendric Research. The evidence you presented was compelling, however an investigation by our internal team has not yielded any additional information.

As you know, succubi worldwide lack a centralized government, instead choosing to function as citizens of their respective countries. As such, even if I could be certain that what you claim about Dendric Research is true, neither I, nor my sister madames would have any method of recourse against the perpetrators of these crimes. (Baring, of course, draining their Chi.)

I have put out a general warning to the succubi in my area via our Facebook page. I apologize for what you have been through and regret that I cannot do more.

Kind regards,

Cordelia

Gracie pinched her forehead between her thumb and forefinger. All the evidence she’d collected in Sirena amounted to nothing without the proper channels to communicate the information. She wracked her brain, trying to think of paranormal species better organized than the succubi. Sadly, only the dragons came to mind, and those self-serving bastards already knew.

* * * *

“Bottoms up!” Erling placed another shot in front of Alara and lifted his own to his mouth. Kaylee arrived a moment later with a tiny glass topped with whipped cream.

Alara winced. “Tell me that’s not a
blow job
, Kay.”

Her friend giggled tipsily and blew a raspberry. “I placed seventh this year. I’ve earned the right to drink sorority-girl drinks if I want.”

Games contestants packed the bar solid, everyone getting drunker and rowdier by the minute. Someone had dug out an old rotating party light, so spheres of color circled the plywood walls, and a makeshift dance floor dominated the space in front of the speakers. Bass pumped so loud the floor shook. Mere sat on tables, climbed on handrails, sucked face in dark corners.

The Games
nachspiel
was the biggest scene of the year, and yet Alara couldn’t seem to enjoy herself. The dragon’s husky words played again and again in her mind. She was sick of thinking about him, sick of trying not to think about him.

Despite his drunkenness, Erling caught her scowl. “Please tell me you’re not pouting.”

She lifted her lip into a snarl.

“Oh my gods, you are! I can’t believe you’re such a sore loser!” His drama-queen voice rose, drawing the attention of the others at the table.

She snatched his shirt and pulled him closer, whispering, “Shut it! I’m not a sore loser.”

Her gaze darted to the other end of the room, where the damned dragon sat surrounded by his admirers. Erling noticed. “So just sexually frustrated, then? You know, you’d be a lot more fun to be around if you scratched that itch.”

Kaylee, who’d obviously been listening, leaned in. “Heck yeah, ‘Lara. Tap that! Do it for all of us who are too chicken to sleep with strangers.”

Alara raised her eyebrow at the backhanded compliment. “He’s not a stranger, exactly, just an asshole.”

Erling and Kaylee exchanged knowing looks. Alara rolled her eyes and settled back into her chair, crossing her arms in irritation.

The revelry continued, but Alara kept sneaking looks at the dragon. He met her eyes each time, lowering his head quickly, like he was embarrassed. She didn’t need all the beers in her system to know that he would definitely be worth a ride.

“Check it, Alara!” Erling’s sharp voice snapped her out of her beer-induced, lust-filled haze. He pointed to the little dance floor where Hans and Sven danced the
Running Man
to
MC Hammer
. “They’re doing their
Jedward
impression! Awesome!”

The laconic duo switched to the
Roger Rabbit
. Alara rolled her eyes. Erling, with all his retro bullshit. Weren’t gay guys supposed to have
good
taste? “I thought that was their
Milli Vanilli
impression.”

“Wrong decade, Miss Thang.”

The music shifted. Apparently whoever was DJing had decided the crowd was drunk enough for Murrough’s ersatz national anthem. An all-too familiar thudding beat started up and Alara groaned aloud. The entire bar whispered in unison
Ice, Ice, Baby…

Erling squealed in glee at the pause. “It gets funnier every time!”

With a disgusted shake of her head, Alara peeked back to that table across the way. She took another long draught of beer. This time, the dragon didn’t look down but instead held her gaze. He rubbed his fingers across his mouth, his bitter chocolate-on-cream eyes drinking her in. She finished the bottle and stood drunkenly.

Oh, dragon, it’s so on.

* * * *

Music drubbed like the heralds of a conquering warrior. Kai basked in the mind-numbing effects of revelry and strong liquor. He had mastered every new task, and he had won the contest. Now everyone, especially the princess, knew to be impressed and in awe of him. She’d looked his way all night, making his chest expand with pride.

Olaf thrust another drink in his hand, and he raised it to his lips, toasting with Alara’s men. From the corner of his eye, he saw her stand from her table. His attention rolled across her body, and a pleasant feeling of want overpowered him. She wore her usual tight T-shirt and hip-hugging jeans. She turned to him with a predatory look in her eyes, almost forcing him to blush and look away again.

Kai noted that she seemed to sway a bit on her feet. Her skin shone with bright pink color, and her lips stretched into a wide smile as she approached. A low growl of pleasure welled up as he watched her move. He thought about how kind she had been to help him learn to ski, and her endearing gasp when he’d beaten her.

I like her…She’s nice—in a mean sort of way.

She reached their table and nodded to each man in turn, congratulating them on Games well-played. Then she turned to Kai and plopped onto his lap. Had his reflexes not been slowed by alcohol, he might have lunged out of her way. In the moment it took to register that a mere female stretched across his hips and chest, he saw the looks on the faces of the men around him.

Olaf’s freckled face split in a wide smile, and his friends looked at Kai appreciatively. They were impressed by him, encouraging him. Throwing their princess to the floor and stomping off would not be wise. So he sat patiently while Alara combed her fingers through his long hair and nuzzled his neck. Her breath smelled like some kind of aged drink, and the rich flowery scent of her skin rose up all around him.

Panic sped up the beating of his heart. What did she expect of him, here in this room, with her men all around watching?

Actually they had all lost interest, and were now bellowing in unison, “Oooh—we’re halfway the-ere, O-oh! Living on a prayer!”

Still, he had no idea how to diffuse or escape the situation. The princess’s hands rolled along his shoulders.

Her striking, high cheek-boned face turned, and she met his eyes. “You wanna get out of here?”

Kai sensed more to the question than he heard. “Do you require an escort home?”

She laughed. “You could say that.” Her eyes searched his. A slow, sly smirk crept across her features. “You won the games, dragon. Don’t you want a reward?”

He wanted to tear his gaze away, tear his body away, but he could feel her heartbeat against his, spurring his faster. “What kind of reward?”