Dragon Storm (4 page)

Darius walked out of the trees, trying not to hold his wounded arm, but the truth was, it really did hurt. He would never have admitted it to anyone—even his twin. Connor, no doubt, already knew. It was the bond they shared. They always knew such things about each other, often experiencing each other’s feelings. It was the main reason they chose to live and work together.

Being twins had been fun for them as children, but often one or the other of them had gone off to do something on their own. The other always knew and always felt what the other experienced. After a while, they both had stopped trying to fight fate and realized their paths in life most likely lay together. Entwined as they had been in their mother’s womb. Parallel souls walking together through life.

Youthful resentment had given way to thankfulness. They had each other. They’d seen how their older brothers struggled. Roland especially seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he’d spent much of his life alone. Only now that he had his queen, the love of his life, by his side, was that loneliness beginning to abate.

Daruis wondered if he’d ever find the same kind of deep and true love that had made Roland’s and Nico’s lives so full. And if he did, would Connor love the same woman? Would they be destined to share a mate as the simple knights in his land did? Or would they each find a separate woman to love—and how could that work when they were so close as to share the experience of almost everything either one did? Or would they be destined to fly forever alone, without a woman in either of their lives, with only each other as company?

Darius didn’t know. He didn’t often dwell on such sober thoughts, but then he’d never been swept to another land by a magical storm. Life had suddenly gotten very interesting, very fast.

Josephine Marpa was heading out to her Jeep when she saw the man emerge from the woods. Immediately on her guard, she noticed he was limping and there was dried blood on his arm. His bare, muscular arm.

He wore leather pants, boots and a sexy vest that tied up the middle over impressive pecs. His muscles bulged as he moved, the black leather hugging sinewy thighs and tight abs as if he’d been poured into it. Her gaze moved upward, and her mouth dropped open at the devilish grin on the handsome face looking back at her.

He was probably a biker—judging by all the leather—who’d been in some kind of accident. Or maybe a male model escaped from some sort of fantasy-fetish photo shoot. Only she wasn’t aware of any photo shoots going on in the area.

“Can I help you?” She stood her ground while she watched him approach. He stopped about ten feet from her, making no move closer, which put her more at ease, but she wasn’t going to let his amazing good looks influence her common sense. Much. She hoped.

“I’m a little lost.” He favored her with a disarming smile. Sweet Mother of All, when the man smiled he was even better-looking. It ought to be illegal.

“And a little banged up.” She looked at his arm, not entirely sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Men like this certainly didn’t walk out of her forest every day. “What happened to you?”

“I had an accident.” He moved a step forward, standing closer, but in an unthreatening position. His smile turned a bit sheepish, tugging on some long-lost feminine heartstring she hadn’t known she still possessed.

She sighed, more annoyed at herself than at the stranger. He seemed all right. His body language was tentative, not aggressive, and her sixth sense was telling her he was okay. She made a rash decision and moved to inspect his injury more closely.

“What happened to your bike? Too banged up to move?”

She sensed some hesitancy before he answered. It didn’t feel menacing, and she trusted her special senses enough to believe he didn’t mean her any harm.

“Something like that,” he answered. “Look, can you tell me where I am exactly?”

One of her eyebrows went up in surprise. Maybe he’d hit his head when he crashed. “You’re in the national park. About two miles from State Road 42.” At the blank look on his handsome face, she went on, both eyebrows reaching upward now. “In Oregon? The Pacific Northwest? United States of America?” Instead of the laughter she expected at her little joke, only more consternation showed on his face. “Where are you from?”

His lips firmed as he considered her. It almost looked like he was debating how much to tell her. She’d seen that look before, but never so openly. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a very good liar. Somehow that was reassuring rather than scary.

“Draconia.” He searched her eyes for something, but she didn’t know what. “I was heading to the Northern Lair.”

She tilted her head, considering his outlandish words. This had to be some kind of joke. “Are you an actor, or maybe a role player, or something? Is there an SCA event going on that nobody told me about?”

“SCA? What is that?”

“The Society for Creative Anachronism. You know, the guys who dress up in old-time garb and fight with swords, pretending to be knights from medieval times? They like to pretend it’s a few hundred years ago, and men still rule by the sword.”

“I’m a knight,” he said softly, “but I do not belong to this society you speak of. I am a subject of King Roland of Draconia. To whom do you owe your allegiance?”

“Look—” she sighed and shook her head, “—the act is cute, but this is the twenty-first century and I don’t have time to play games with you. Can I help you find your way out of these woods or what? You look like you could use some medical attention. I can drive you into town so you can get that arm looked at by a doctor. What do you say?”

“The wound is minor. I do not need a doctor. I could, however, use a place to wash up. Can you direct me to water?”

She hesitated about inviting him in to her cabin, but what else could she do? Her special senses continued to insist that he was a good guy. She trusted her instincts. They’d never steered her wrong in the past. But having this huge man in her tiny cabin was a daunting prospect.

“Sure.” She made a snap decision. “Follow me. You can use my bathroom.”

“You have my thanks.”

She led the way into her cabin, pointing him to the bathroom. He was closer than he had been outdoors, and she got her first good whiff of his scent.

Sweet Mother of All.

If her nose didn’t lie…

He was her mate.

The willowy beauty led him in moments to a strangely built cabin, but he only barely noticed the structure. No, his eyes were firmly glued to the delectable curves of her ass as she walked. She was a rare beauty, her eyes slightly tilted at the corners, and her skin held a golden glow unlike any in his land. To him, she looked exotic…and beautiful.

“Be careful, Brother.”
Connor’s voice flowed through his mind.
“It could be a trap.”

“If so, I don’t think I want to escape,”
Darius teased, his eyes on the woman. He knew his brother was aloft in the trees, watching what he could.

“Just remember, the female of many species is often deadlier than the male.”
Connor’s dragonish chuckle followed him into the building.

She led him into the small structure and warmth assailed him. The outdoors had been brisk, with a hint of rain in the air. Inside her cabin it was snug and warm. He saw a banked fire in the fireplace along one wall. Overall the place was tidy and clean in a way that didn’t exist in his homeland. Surfaces gleamed as if they were made of rock or polished metal. Simple folk in Draconia led bountiful lives, but they didn’t possess items like those he saw on his path through the main room.

“What’s it like inside?”
Connor asked.

“A cabin. Fabric covered furniture, warm fabric rugs on the floor. Many strange objects I do not recognize. Many books. An eclectic mix of possessions.”
The brothers could see through each other’s eyes, but it was both physically and magically draining. As a result, they tended to save that ability for when it was truly necessary.
“This is like no home I’ve ever seen in Draconia or any of the lands we’ve visited. Now leave off before she thinks me addled. I will report back when there is something to report.”

His hostess turned to him as she closed the door.

“Your home is lovely,” he said, for lack of anything better to say. She already thought him odd from the comments she’d made outside. He didn’t want to make it any worse.

“Thank you.” She strode across the room and opened a small door set in the far wall. “The bathroom. There’s liquid soap in the dispenser, and I’ll get some bandages and disinfectant for your arm from the first-aid kit in kitchen. Wash up, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. By the way, my name is Josie.”

“I am Darius.” The introduction seemed stilted, and her name was strange to his tongue, but beautiful. Just like her. He watched as she walked gracefully away into another part of the small house.

The bathroom, as she called it, was nothing like the stone bath chambers common to every Lair. No, this small room held surfaces of gleaming metal and ceramic tile with other items of some unknown substance that was highly polished but lighter than stone. He experimented a bit with the sink fixtures until he realized that cold water flowed when he turned one of the levers and hot water came out of the faucet when he turned the other. It was marvelous.

He also found what he supposed was the liquid soap she’d mentioned. It smelled strange to his nose. It lathered like soap once he exposed it to the water. It also removed the dirt and grime from his person.

Darius stripped off his leather shirt and washed thoroughly, using one of her towels to dry off. He slung the towel over his shoulder as he looked at his reflection in one of the finest mirrors he’d ever seen in a simple home. It was true silvered glass. Something most people could not afford in Draconia, though there were plenty of mirrors like this in the royal palace and the Lairs where dragons and their knights lived with their families.

Deciding his arm was already healing well, he shrugged off the strangeness of this environment and went in search of his hostess.

He found her bent over, rummaging through a small closet beneath a larger version of the sink in the bathroom. There were countertops made of something that looked like stone, but did not feel like it. For one thing, the surface was not cold like a slab of rock and did not have the same hardness to his senses when he reached out to rest one hand atop its surface.

These thoughts registered only on the surface. The majority of his attention was taken up with the delectable shape of her ass as it wiggled enticingly before him. She was small compared to him. He guessed she’d fit him perfectly in all the right places. Her body was that of a siren, sent to tempt him. He tried his best to stifle a groan as his cock twitched in appreciation of her beauty, but he wasn’t entirely successful.

She straightened abruptly and turned to face him. Surprise flickered on her face before it was replaced by feminine appreciation as her gaze lowered to his bare chest.

“You snuck up on me,” she accused in a breathless voice.

“I’m naturally quiet. Sorry.” In actuality, he wasn’t sorry at all. He advanced into the room, stalking her scent. Her natural fragrance was like that of an exotic flower to him. Earthy yet ethereal. Sumptuous and almost divine. “I don’t think the cut will require bandages, but it could use some medicine to clean away possible contagion. It burns.”

“Oh.” She jumped as he neared, focusing on his arm. If not for the burn of what he thought had to be some foreign air that could infect his blood, he would never have distracted her with the injury. But he needed whatever medicine she had in her strange home, to combat what could develop into a life-threatening contagion.

Then he’d take care of what seemed to be a very potent and very mutual attraction.

“Are you sure? I can’t find the bandages. I never use them myself. I do have some antiseptic spray though.” She turned to pick up a bright white bottle that flexed under her fingers in a rather amazing way. He didn’t comment as she moved closer, taking his hand to lift his injured arm to the countertop. “This will sting at first.”

The warning was unnecessary. The slight cold of the spray was nothing like the pain he’d expected. He looked at the wound to be sure the liquid had actually penetrated into the raw part that needed healing.

“Are you certain that will work? It doesn’t burn.”

“Oh yeah. I’m sure. I use this stuff all the time. I bought it specifically because it doesn’t sting as much as the other kinds.” She gave the wound one more spray and put the bottle down. “That should do it. You can put more on later, if necessary.”

“Will I be here later?” All of a sudden, their surroundings disappeared. It was only the two of them, facing each other, alone in the world. The air grew thick as their bodies drew closer. Their gazes met and held.

“Do you want to be?”

“More than anything I can think of.” Only inches separated them and Darius took that final step forward, opening his arms and gathering her closer. He held her gaze as he lowered his head, seeking her lips. He would not rush her. If she did not want his kiss, he would back off and try to seduce her another way.

She surprised him by moving closer, reaching up for him and taking his lips with a ferocious intensity he had not expected. After only a slight hesitation he joined in, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and parrying her own forays into his.

She was tuned to him. It felt like she anticipated and mirrored every one of his needs and desires. She was perfection itself, wrapped up in an explosive, fiery bundle.

He pushed the stretchy fabric of her top upward, and she pulled it off over her head. She was bare beneath, making him groan as he cupped her generous breasts in his palms. Her skin was the most extraordinary thing he had ever touched, like warm satin and as soft as down, yet alive with her own vibrant intensity.

“Darius,” she moaned his name as he left her lips and sought her nipples with his tongue. She tasted divine to his dragonish senses. Female and wanton, refined and…perfect.

Josie’s senses were on fire. This man burned away all her inhibitions and left her a writhing mass of need. His scent quickened her body in a way she’d never experienced with any male. She licked at his skin, tasting the perfection of their match.