Fury of a Highland Dragon (4 page)

Ivy threw him a questioning look.

Releasing her legs, he dropped her feet to the ground. “Things are about to get a wee bit strange for you.”

Standing in the circle of his arms, she shifted, seeking separation. He tightened his hold, refusing to release her even as regret rose. He didn’t want to scare her, but explaining wouldn’t work. Actions spoke louder than words. Ivy needed to see to believe. So instead of warning her, he unleashed his magic. Wind gusts blew between the tombstones. Heat exploded around them. In a panic, Ivy pushed against his chest. Tydrin called on his dragon and shifted. Frigid night air spilled over his black, purple-tipped scales. Frozen earth pushed between his talons, covering the tips of his razor-sharp claws. Ivy inhaled hard. Tydrin didn’t give her the chance to scream. Holding the lass in the palm of his paw, he unfurled his wings and leapt skyward, into the unforgiving light of the moon.

S
nowflakes swirled over her head as the world went topsy-turvy. Ivy squeezed her eyes shut. She needed a moment to acclimatize. Just a few seconds. A minute at most to figure it out and come up with a plan. After that, she’d know exactly how to—

The dragon banked right, angling into a tight turn.

G-force velocity picked her up. Time slowed. Gravity shifted. She hung weightless for a moment, suspended above the cradle of his paw before the laws of relativity took hold. She stopped going up and started to come down. Her shoulder landed in the center of his palm an instant before her hip hit. The impact made her gasp. The slip-and-slide made her cling to one of his talons to keep from falling. The wind whistled between his claws. Smooth interlocking dragon skin brushed her cheek.

Her brain scrambled.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be real. She wasn’t here. He hadn’t transformed, gone from man to dragon without warning. Wasn’t holding her captive or…holy crap. Dreaming. She must be
dreaming
. Having a skull cracking nightmare that left nice-and-normal behind to travel into the realm of feel-real 3D.

Ivy swallowed past the lump in her throat. Yes. Absolutely. A dream qualified as an excellent explanation. A solid contender in a world gone mad. Totally sane. Not terrifying at all. Any second now, she’d wake up, open her eyes, feel the soft cotton comforter against her face.

Frigid wind burned over her skin

Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP!

Paralyzed by fear, the words echoed inside her head.

Ivy forced her eyes open.

City lights blurred into streaks below her. Snow turned to rain, pelting her jacket before saturating her skin. Water rolled down her cheek. A shiver rattled through her and…oh, God. Not good. The raindrops felt far too real—skin chilling, hair tangling, jean soaking genuine. Unable to get enough air, Ivy started to pant. Frigging hell. A minute wasn’t going to be long enough. An hour wouldn’t be either. Give her a year to mull it over and the situation still wouldn’t make sense.

She was flying. F
lying
—at break neck speed high above the city of Aberdeen. Dark wings spread wide, the dragon dipped beneath a thick storm cloud. Her vision blurred. She forced it back into focus. The landscape came into view. Damp, narrow streets snaked between small houses with smoking chimneys. Tiled roofs gave away to large trees and a walled garden asleep beneath winter’s watchful eye. Recall provided a quick snapshot. It was a lovely spot. So charming at dusk. Or so she’d thought while walking past it last evening. From a half a mile up, however, everything, including her perspective, changed. None of it seemed the least bit delightful now.

The dragon dove into another harrowing turn.

Velocity pressed her deeper into his palm.

Ivy opened her mouth to scream. Cold air invaded her throat, stalling the breath in her lungs. Her chest compressed. The shriek died in her throat. A wheeze clawed its way out instead as pain drove spikes through her breastbone. Her vision dimmed as oxygen deprivation set in, scattering her thoughts like bowling pins. Clinging to sanity, Ivy narrowed her focus.
Think
. She needed to think, but even as self-preservation surfaced, the air thinned. Soon it would disappear, and she wouldn’t stand a chance. She’d be swept away, engulfed in the rising fury of an asthma attack.

Panic shoved fear out of the way. Adrenaline streamed into her veins. Her muscles tightened as the blood rush hit her like a shot of epinephrine. Locked in a spasm, her lungs opened enough for her to take a shallow breath. The infuse of oxygen went straight to her head, and…thank God. Her brain was back, dragging a healthy dose of fight with it.

Wedging her hands between her chest and the beast’s claw, she pushed. Warm scales pressed against her palms. Goosebumps spread on her skin. Baring her teeth, she kept shoving. No good. Zero movement. Not an ounce of give. She tried again. His talons flexed. Razor-sharp claws inched closer to her face. Ivy froze. He relaxed his grip. She stayed still, heart pumping, mind churning to formulate a viable plan. She needed one—right now, but…what was she supposed to do? What would work? How could she win against a dragon?

Breathing in painful bursts, she stared up at it.

Or rather, him.

Calling the beast currently kidnapping her a
him
seemed like a good bet. Particularly since clinging to hope she sat in the middle of a dream wasn’t working. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t. Not anymore. He was here. So was she. Which meant…

The guy with the gorgeous eyes and libido-stoking voice had turned into a dragon.

A holy-crap-just-kill-me-now
dragon
.

One with jagged horns on his head. Although, why that concerned her most she didn’t know. Maybe she was an idiot. Ivy frowned. Yes, definitely an idiot, considering the horns should be the least of her worries. Other things took precedence. The huge fangs in his mouth raised serious warning flags. The giant wings and the brutal lash of his bared tail topped her list as well. The talons tipped by long wicked-looking claws, though, ranked as the most important. More of a threat. The biggest problem. With good reason too.

Ivy eyed the sharp tips inches from her head.

A sound of distress left her throat. The pitiful croak barely registered. Was such a weak attempt at screaming the dragon didn’t hear her. Or notice how much she struggled to breathe. Ivy willed air into her lungs. Nothing happened. Panic erupted, closing her airway faster than usual. No…God no. She knew better than to let fear shut her down. She needed to stay calm. Must focus, remain centered and concentrate. Otherwise the asthma would win. Take over a little at a time. Steal her air and then her life.

Battling to stay conscious, Ivy fought to draw another breath. Frigid air washed over her teeth. She coughed. The hacking sound drifted between the dragon’s claws as he leveled off over a river. Moonlight glinted off rippling waves. Cargo boats bobbed against the concrete pier, silent and stern in the water as her windpipe started to close. The lights along the dock edge blurred into jagged streaks. Light-headedness swamped her. Her brain sloshed inside her skull, crippling reason as desperation took hold. Curling her hand into a fist, she punched the top of his talon.

The feeble attempt caught his attention.

Tucking his head under his chin, he glanced at her. Shimmering purple eyes met hers. “All right, lovely?”

The question drifted on a voice she recognized. Tydrin. Of course. It couldn’t be anyone other than him, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Dangerous, her guardian angel in the cemetery turned monster in dark of night. Floating inside her own head, Ivy tried to laugh. No sound came out, but…wow. It was almost funny—the circumstances, him saving her only to kill her in the end.

“Tydrin.”

“Talk to me, luv.”

Almost out of air, she shook her head. He frowned. She twisted in his paw, and with one last burst of energy, reached for her coat pocket. Her inhaler. She must reach her medicine. Right now. Before she passed out, and it became too late.

“I’m sorry for frightening you, but…” Concern salted his tone. The velocity of his flight slowed as he nudged her with his talon. “Ivy?”

Agony tightened its grip. “C-can’t breathe. Asthma. N-need…my…”

Fumbling in her pocket, she fought to finish her sentence. To make him understand. To ask for help. But it was too late. Her chest heaved as all the oxygen disappeared, deflating her lungs, stealing her hope, slowing her heart. Ivy listened to the sluggish beat, knowing it would be the last time she heard it. Dead and gone. Cold and grey. Nothing but a corpse in a dragon’s paw. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. She smiled through her anguish. It was strange and somehow appropriate. Only fitting that she die in Scotland, the place of her birth, in a country so old myth overcame reality, allowing the beat of dragon wings to carry her into the afterlife.

Hollow inside, she went limp in his paw.

“Jesus Christ.” The harsh curse came from far away, through a dim-lit tunnel filled with pain. “Hang on, Ivy. I’m landing. I’ll help you, just…”

Rising dark and melodic in her mind, his words floated away.

A black hole opened beneath her. Her world ceased spinning. Ivy let her eyes close and herself go, drifting into nothingness as the abyss grew teeth and swallowed her whole.

F
ear lit a fire under Tydrin. He banked hard and increased his wing speed. Cold air streamed over the weave of his interlocking dragon skin. Gale force winds funneled, rattling the bladed spikes along his spine. The high rise closest to him groaned. Thick glass shook in steel window casings, killing the quiet. Dragon senses pinpoint sharp, he heard humans curse from behind the granite facade. Lights flipped on in the apartments closest to him. Tydrin ignored the light show. None of it mattered. Fuck the collateral damage. Human upheaval be damned. He’d fry the entire neighborhood—KO the entire block—to ensure Ivy’s safety.

One eye on the skyline, he checked on her again.

Concern escalated into serious worry. The lass was in serious trouble. Barely breathing. Laying limp in his paw. So pale her skin appeared translucent in the moonlight. Oh so not good. Another minute, and she’d tumbled down the rabbit hole, straight into physical meltdown. Cardiac arrest wasn’t an impossibility. Neither was brain damage from lack of oxygen.

The downward dip in her bio-energy told him so. The fact she panted, struggling to draw shallow breaths, filled in the blanks. He needed to fold his wings and land. Right now. The sooner he set down in the courtyard behind the Dragon’s Horn—the pub owned by his pack—and got his hands on her, the sooner she would stabilize. The skin-to-skin contact would help. His magic—opening a channel to the Meridian and treating her with a dose of healing energy—would do the rest.

He frowned. A least, he hoped so.

The plan would work—in theory. Reality, however, was far more pragmatic.

Feeding a female energy took great skill. It started with a meeting of the minds. Male to female. Dragonkind to human. A coupling which necessitated his dragon half’s cooperation. By no means a given. Finicky by nature, his dragon must agree and accept the female as his own. A process his kind called energy-fuse and…shite. It was tricky as hell. Difficult to accomplish. Hard on the system if achieved. Dangerous if forced. The worst kind of unpredictable—the equivalent of hitting a moving target while flying backwards blindfolded.

Not impossible, but a far cry from easy either.

Hurtling around an ornate church steeple, Tydrin angled into the last turn and put on the brakes. His wing’s black webbing shuddered in the blowback. His muscles shrieked in protest. Ignoring the discomfort, Tydrin hung suspended a moment, his focus on the walled courtyard below him. Streetlights painted golden swathes across the pub’s slate roof. His eyes narrowed. X marked the spot. Right there. Ten feet from the back door. Less than a fifty foot drop to the ground. He exhaled hard. Sparks shot from his nostrils, lighting up the gloom as he folded his wings.

Gravity grabbed hold.

He dropped out of the sky.

Halfway down, he mined Ivy’s bio-energy. Still shaky. Not improving and—

Her vital signs plummeted, reaching dangerous levels. Air rasped from her mouth. Her chest shuddered as her body spasmed.

She jerked inside his paw.

Tydrin cursed.

“Hold on, Ivy.”
The words echoed inside his head. He pushed each one into hers, opening a line through mind-speak, praying his voice reached her. Reassured her. Helped calm her enough to draw more air.
“Just a bit longer, lovely. I’m almost there.”

His paws thumped down.

His talons curled under.

Cobblestone cracked, sending fissures out like spiderwebs as metal patio furniture jumped. The clang echoed off stone walls. Water sloshed over the lip of the oversized fountain. The trio of serpents sitting at its center—tails and heads entwined, fanged mouths in full hiss—listed to one side as Tydrin tucked his wings. The second the webbing met his sides, he shifted to human form and conjured a pair of sweat pants.

The switch caused Ivy to slump against his chest. Her head wobbled on her shoulders. His arms came around her. Holding her steady, he slipped his hand beneath her coat collar and cupped the nape of her neck. Bare skin met his. His palm heated as his magic engaged. Energy sparked. The Meridian surged, opening a channel deep inside him. A click sounded inside his head. His dragon half woke with a snarl and…

Tydrin hummed.

Oh aye. Just like that. Mission accomplished, connection complete. He was powered up and plugged in. Deep inside the female’s veins and…thank Christ and every single one of his angels. His dragon was on board and hooked in, accepting his will instead of fighting the fuse.

Good for him. Even better for Ivy.

The influx of energy would open her lungs and help her breathe. And while she fed—aligning her life force with his, taking what she needed from him—his dragon half would hunt. He must root out the problem in order to fix it. Heal whatever ailed her, then ensure she remained stable throughout her stay in Aberdeen. She’d said something about asthma. He’d start there, deep inside her lungs: seek the source, identify the underlying condition, remove the threat. Now that he’d connected to her, he knew he could do it. A little time. A lot of effort, and she’d be right as rain. Breathing again. Conscious once more. Back to herself instead of half dead in his arms.

But not yet.

She needed more. More of his skin on hers. A stronger connection to the Meridian. More of the healing energy he fed her.

Shoving her coat out of the way, he slid his hand beneath her t-shirt. His palm found the base of her spine. She twitched. Tydrin increased the pressure, spread his fingers wide, reaching as much of her as he could. Her chest rose and fell on a raspy breath. Dipping his head, he set his cheek to hers. His mouth drifted to her temple. He whispered her name, trying to wake her, willing her to accept more from him. She fought for a second, denying herself, hurting him before—

She turned her head toward him.

Her lips brushed his throat.

The connection amplified, bombarding him with sensation. Prickles exploded down his spine. Ecstasy rushed through his veins, sensitizing his skin, brutalizing his senses, wrapping him in glorious, soul-ravishing warmth. Tydrin shuddered. Holy hell. That felt good. Beautifully intense. Beyond all experience. Pleasure pushed the envelope, went supersonic and—

Sensation lashed him.

The pressure increased, driving him toward the edge of control. Overload threatened to shove him off track. His eyelashes flickered. Tydrin bore down, manipulating the flow of energy, feeding her the right amount, refusing to hurt her. The rush downgraded from brutal to magnificent. He groaned. Hmm, baby. She was amazing. So goddamn gorgeous as she took what he offered.

“There’s my lass. Good girl.” Drunk on delight, he murmured the praise against her skin.

Another wave of bliss hit him.

Tydrin swayed on his feet. Closing his eyes, he narrowed his focus and sank into the powerful stream. His legs folded until his knees hit the ground. The fountain gurgled as the damp seeped through his jogging pants to touch his skin. Not that he cared. With his fire dragon in full throttle, the cold barely register. So instead of heading for the door—and his quarters underground, beneath the pub—he ass-planted himself on the ground and pulled Ivy into his lap. She settled like a gift, thighs draped over his, bottom pressed to his groin, face tucked beneath his chin.

Wrapped around her like a blanket, the world faded.

His dragon sighed, accepting her fully as his mind drifted, the connection filling him so full he knew he’d met his match. His mate. The female made and meant for him. In that moment, Tydrin forgot about the complications. Lost track of right. Pushed aside wrong. Left his past in the dust too. None of it mattered anymore. She was here, and he was ruined for anyone else.

“Take more, Ivy. Let me give you more.”

She whispered his name.

He fed her more healing energy, overloading her system, narrowing his focus on her lungs. Right there, in the bottom half of both lobes. His magic cranked the dial, magnifying the problem. Now he could see what ailed her. Shite. So much scar tissue. Way too much pain. No wonder she was having trouble breathing, suffering in the worst possible way.

Concentrating on her malady, Tydrin opened the valve and upped the current. The Meridian pulsed. His dragon half regulated the flow, sending a continuous stream into her chest, pushing the equivalent of magical medicine into her lungs. Her aura stared to glow. The bright blue light heated the air around him, then turned inward to repair the damage.

Air rushed into her lungs.

Her chest filled, expanding her rib cage. One deep breath turned into another. And then another. Over and over. Again and again. How long he sat cradling her—minutes. Hours. The full length of night—he didn’t know. Didn’t care much either. Healing energy treatments took time. And he would make sure she ended the night one hundred percent healthy. Able to breathe without pain or the aid of an asthma inhaler ever again.

Unable to resist, he traced one of her eyebrows with his mouth. She stirred, shifting on his lap. Lifting his head, he jumped to her cheek, brushing soft kisses on her skin. “Ivy?”

Her eyelashes fluttered against his jaw. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you. Healing you.”

“You’re gonna regret that,” she said, words slurred as she took more, losing herself in the glory of her first energy feeding. Rubbing her cheek against his, she slid her arms around him and hugged him close. Her fingertips played, drifting over his bare back. “I’m trouble.”

“Are ye now?”

“Always have been.”

Bullshite. His female might be challenging with her quick mind and stubborn nature, but she wasn’t
trouble
. She was perfection personified. “Who told you that?”

“My aunt. FBI too.”

“Idiots…every one.”

Ivy huffed, the sound full of amusement. Snuggling closer, she drew circles on his shoulder blades. Tydrin shivered as lust surged, merging with desperate need. “I feel better. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good.” Raising her chin with his thumb, he tilted her head back. His gaze roamed over her face. Eyes closed, expression peaceful and body relaxed, she rested against him. His mouth curved. Fantastic. Not a care in the world. Exactly the way he wanted her. At least, until she healed. After that, there would be time and more to explain the bond he now shared with her…and that he would never let her go. “It’ll feel even better come morning.”

“Okay,” she said, drifting toward exhaustion.

“Go to sleep, Ivy.”

“You’ll stay?”

“Of course. You cannae get rid of me so easily.”

“We’ll see.”

Aye, they would. Sooner rather than later too.

Forget restraint. Throw away his original plan of a temporary tryst. Ivy might not know it yet, but he planned to keep her. Some slight of hand, a little trickery, a well-planned seduction, and she wouldn’t know what hit her. With a sigh of contentment, Tydrin listened to her breath and watched as she fell asleep. Aye. No question. His approach was solid. Do it right, and she’d be his—so attached to him she’d never leave. Pressing a soft kiss to her brow, Tydrin nodded. Sound reasoning. Seemed like a plan. The best course of action, but for one thing…

Energy-fuse—the magical bond between mates—couldn’t be forced.

Unlike him, Ivy had a choice.

Accept or deny him. Love or leave him.

With his dragon fixated on her, Tydrin yearned for the first. He needed her to welcome his attention. Wanted to give her the world. Which left him with one recourse: Spend the time. Spoil her rotten. Make her want to stay.

Or lose her forever.