Fury of a Highland Dragon (5 page)

I
vy knew something was wrong the instant she woke up. She never went to bed in her clothes. Always took the time to change into an oversized t-shirt. A pair of roomy boxer shorts usually made the list labeled sleepwear too. She shifted under the covers. Stretchy denim rasped over her skin and…yeah. Definite reason for concern. Something was off. Forget about the jeans and wool sweater she wore. More reasons for worry popped up. The mattress was too soft, the shadowy outlines of bedposts too tall, the blankets too light and—

She stretched.

Her palm slid over something hard.

Still more asleep than awake, she frowned. What the heck was that? She didn’t own a dog. Her cat—poor Fester, may he rest in peace—had died last year. And a boyfriend? Ivy huffed. Ha, right. No need to go there. Or revisit her inadequacies. But even as she told herself to leave it alone, the question circled—how would she ever land a man when she spent all her time holed up behind computer screens? Great question. Super observation.

No help at all.

Especially since her hand wasn’t lying, ’cause…wow. That sure felt like a man’s chest. Warm. Smooth. Muscular in all the right places. She let her hand wander lower and pursed her lips. Maybe not a chest. Maybe those were abs, the perfect contours of a kick-ass six pack. With a hum, she trailed her fingers over the ridges, then up his side. Oh how nice. Long and strong. Rugged and ripped. Ivy sighed in contentment. Awesome. He was the best imaginary man she’d ever dreamed.

The thought made her smile.

Exhaustion made her snuggle in. He grumbled in his sleep. The growl vibrated against her ear and…huh. The reverberation sounded real. A little too vocal for a dream. Swimming through the soupy mix of slumber, Ivy cracked her eyelids open. A wide shoulder came into view. She squinted at it. Beautiful. Such an incredible sight, although strange too considering she lay half on top of him, cheek pressed to his chest, hand snug against his side, one thigh wedged between both of his.

Warning bells rang inside her head.

The mind-fog thickened, drowning out the clang of unease. She yawned and let herself drift, enjoying the feel of strong arms around her. Nothing to worry about here. No need to sound the alarm. Everything was A-Okay. It must be. He was so warm, and she didn’t want to move. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She sighed. My, what a good plan. She should definitely stay put. Take advantage, get some more rest, and float for a while. She never got to sleep in anymore. Her job didn’t allow for it and…

So good.

He felt so damned good.

Lifting her head a fraction, Ivy let her gaze roam. Killer biceps…awesome. A ripped forearm…perfect. A huge hand curled around her much smaller one…you betcha.

She stared at the long fingers laced with hers a second.

The slumber-driven haze receded. Awareness surged as prickles slid over her shoulders and down her spine. The warm current played havoc with her focus, the message clear:
go back to sleep, lovely.
The endearment spiraled inside her head, tugged at her tension, tweaked a memory even as it tempted her to obey. Ivy shook her head.
Wake up!
Concentrate
. The command blurred between her temples. Ivy narrowed her focus, forcing herself to stay with it. She needed to figure out how the hell she’d landed here…snug up against him. Questions must be asked. Crucial ones like: where was she? Who was he? And most important—why couldn’t she remember getting into his bed?

The inquiry jumpstarted her brain.

Ivy glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Her breath stalled in her throat. Lordy-lord-lord, he was gorgeous. So handsome with his dark hair, aristocratic features, and the day old stubble shadowing his jaw.

He twitched against her.

“Don’t move. Stay still,” she muttered under her breath, talking to herself, but mostly to him.

She didn’t want him to wake up. The second he opened his eyes, she’d land in serious trouble. A bit dramatic on the reaction front? No. Absolutely not. The size of him helped her gauge the threat level. Too big. Crazy muscular. A billion times stronger than her. Red…she was at
threat level RED
. Time to leave. She needed to facilitate an escape. Right now. A quick sideways slide to the edge of the bed. A faster dash toward the door and…

Ivy glanced over her shoulder.

Crap. It was too dark. With nothing but the weak glow of a fish tank across the room, she couldn’t see the exit. Her gaze darted to the bedside table. The faint outline of a lamp taunted her. Damn it. The stupid thing was too far away. She couldn’t flip the light on without reaching over him.

Oh man. She was so screwed.

The instant she moved, he’d wake up and try to stop her. Instinct told her so. Intuition laid out the rest of the plan. Or rather, her downfall in stunning clarity. Which was odd since she couldn’t recall anything else. A fractured image rose in her mind’s eye. Her gaze trailed over the strong lines of his face and landed on his throat. She remembered that spot, the place where his pulse throbbed beneath scratchy stubble. She’d tasted it last night. Had set her mouth to the side of his neck, felt his carotid artery beat against the tip of her tongue and given in to the sizzle of physical attraction.

Shock thrummed through her. She sucked in a quick breath. Holy hell. The courtyard. Something about a fountain, entwined snakes and…

Recollection failed her.

Ivy chased the memory. Imagery flashed inside her head. The facts gathered. Like black and white dominoes, each stood on end, lining up in military formation. The first one fell—the set up in Maryland, running from the FBI, Scotland, the cemetery, Tydrin and—

Her brain kicked over. She jerked against him.

A dragon. She remembered him turning into a
dragon
.

Tydrin shifted in his sleep. His hold on her tightened before he settled again. Self-preservation flipped to the ON position. Panic powered up. Afraid to breath, Ivy remained frozen against him. The wrong reaction. Completely idiotic in terms of plan implementation. She needed to go right now. Run. Hide. Get away for good. Common sense dictated the path, and yet, she didn’t move. She stayed still instead, fighting the undeniable urge to lay her head back down. Soak up more of his heat. Revel in the strength of his body. Feel safe with him instead of threatened.

Which left two options.

Put out an all points gorgeous guy alert and get busy exploring. Or find the nearest doctor and have her head examined.

The second idea seemed like a better option. An MRI might be required. A regular dose of anti-psychotics worked wonders for some people. Maybe it would for her. Knowing she tumbled toward crazy, however, didn’t cure the infatuation. She couldn’t stop staring at him. There was something about him. Something comforting. Something familiar and safe.

Forget all the weirdness.

Set aside the dragon stuff for a second.

A stark realization ramped up, requiring her attention. Maybe it was the lethal vibe he threw off like pheromones. Perhaps it was the peaceful way he slept. Or the feel of his hard body against hers. Ivy didn’t know, but…wow. Waking up next to him qualified as an interesting first for her. Guys like Tydrin didn’t crawl into her bed. Or tuck her into theirs. Ivy snorted. Uh-huh. Right. As if hotties like him ever went for girls like her. International cover models, sure. Long, leggy blondes with killer bods and perfect skin? Absolutely. Curvy redheads with more freckles than good sense? Not really. She’d wager the occurrence appeared closer to
never
on the sliding date-me scale than
remotely
possible
.

Her geekiness scared men away.

Too much brain power for them, maybe. Less social skills than a yak in heat, perhaps. Not that it mattered. The reasons could wait while she figured out her attraction to Tydrin. But as she watched him sleep—chest rising and falling under her hand—comprehension abandoned her. Confusion bombarded her instead. It was odd. So strange that she wasn’t afraid of him. Ivy worried the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth. All right, so the man-dragon angle concerned her. Dragons, after all, weren’t supposed to exist. Not outside the realm of on-line gaming communities anyway. Still, she couldn’t deny what she’d witnessed.

Or that he’d saved her life.

Toss in the fact her chest didn’t hurt anymore. Ivy frowned. Crazy that she hadn’t realized it until now, but…God. She could breathe. Really
breathe
for the first time in years. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been pain-free or woken without needing her medicine. Getting enough air had always been a big struggle. Until now. One night with Tydrin, and everything had changed.

Testing the theory, Ivy drew a deep breath.

Her lungs filled.

Her rib cage expanded.

She exhaled smooth and inhaled again, assessing her lung capacity. Oxygen flowed in. Carbon dioxide flowed out. Not an ounce of discomfort. No need to reach for her inhaler. All systems go, two thumbs way,
way
up. She dropped her gaze to the quilt. Navy blue threads dotted the material, drawing patterns across the white cotton. Lifting her hand from Tydrin’s chest, she traced the swirl of curving lines. Her fingernail rasped over stitches sewn by a steady hand.

Straight. Narrow. Perfect in every way.

Unlike the mess she’d made of her life.

“Ivy.” Fingers touched the furrow between her brows.

She flinched.

Tydrin paused, a fingertip poised above her skin, then continued, caressing her as though he owned the right. A feathered touch over the arch of her eyebrow. The soft brush of his thumb against her cheek. His hand cupping her jaw as he tipped her chin up. Dark purple eyes captured hers. She shivered. His mouth curved. “Wool gathering, are ye?”

“Seems like the thing to do.” Unable to look away, Ivy weighed her next words with care. She didn’t want to piss him off. Or be disrespectful. Something told her that wouldn’t go over well. Not with Tydrin. He might be patient. Might even be gentle with her, but only an idiot would ignore his tendency toward aggression. Like it or not, he was lethal. And far too close—awake and aware—for her to make a clean escape. Still, she refused to shy away. Avoiding the topic wouldn’t help clarify things. Honesty, however, just might. “Considering you’re a dragon.”

“Only half, lovely.” Eyes crinkling at the corners, he tapped her bottom lip. “The other fifty percent is all human.”

Incredulity struck. Ivy opened her mouth. No sound came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “How can that be? I mean…what…where…I just…dragons are not supposed to exist.”

“Anonymity, Ivy. ’Tis the way we like it.”

“We?”

“Dragonkind.”

“I don’t understand.”

“’Tisn’t complicated,” he said, picking up a lock of her hair. He lingered a moment, twirling the strands around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. “Dragonkind is simply another species on a planet full of them. Like humans and birds and panda bears. No different.”

“Not the same either.”

“True.”

“Why the anonymity?”

He shrugged, jostling her as he stuffed a pillow under his head. “Staying hidden is important. Better for us. Safer for humans in the long run too.”

“Kind of like—if we knew, you’d have to kill us?”

He snorted in amusement. “Now you’re getting it.”

She rolled her eyes. Charming jerk. It was difficult not to like him. Even harder to be afraid when he smiled at her like that. “Do you wield magic?”

“Aye. Every day.”

“Did you use it on me last night?” Curiosity raised its head, driving her into the conversation instead of away. And yet, the need to move nudged her. Laying next to him wasn’t a good idea. She needed distance. Enough to force her brain to work. Enough to think rationally, with her head, not her libido. Pushing at the covers, Ivy shifted, each movement measured as she pulled away. She settled on her knees a few feet away. Her bottom touched her heels. The mattress sighed underneath her. Tydrin didn’t say a word. He watched instead, letting her go without argument. A terrific concession. One designed to settle her nerves, no doubt, but his lazy façade didn’t fool her. He was in control. Bigger. Stronger. Faster. Able to draw her back to his side whenever he wanted. “Is that what I felt when—”

“I touched you?” He raised a brow.

She nodded.

Elbows bent, fingers laced behind his head, he studied her from beneath his dark lashes. The silence stretched, upping her tension as he sat up. Ivy slid backward another foot, heading for the edge of the mattress. He murmured a reassurance and stopped advancing in favor of sitting cross-legged in front of her.

“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling bad for retreating. “It’s not that I think you’ll hurt me or anything, but…” She swallowed, trailing off to gather her thoughts. “I just don’t know you very well.”

“’Tis all right, lass.” His mouth curved. “You’ve not hurt my feelings.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, sarcasm out in full force.

He laughed.

Her stomach flip-flopped at the sound. So deep. So attractive. So enthralling that—Ivy frowned. Crap. Wrong thought. Bad libido, but…God. Tydrin was so freaking hot, his appeal flipped her switch, prompting all kind of naughty thoughts.

The kind a girl couldn’t ignore.

Ivy grimaced. Hot and bothered. Ready and willing. Talk about a terrible idea. Her inner sex kitten didn’t care. The little minx refused to give her a break, tossing out inappropriate suggestions that ended with her legs wrapped around Tydrin’s waist…every single time.

“Traitor,” Ivy muttered, struggling to subdue her out-of-control inner vixen.

Tydrin raised a brow. “What was that, lass?”

“Nothing.” Heat rose in her cheeks. Swallowing her embarrassment, Ivy dragged her mind out of the gutter and tipped her chin. “So about the magic?”

“Right,” he murmured, frowning a little. “’Tis hard to explain, but what you felt is not ordinary, Ivy. ’Tis unusual. A rare blending of energies for my kind. The strength of it allowed me to share my life-force with you. To target the weakness in your lungs and heal it.”