Rion (4 page)

Sure, she’d be more cautious this time. But she was no longer holding back. “You have a family on Honor?”

“I have parents and a… cousin. Erik. I pray to the Goddess that they’re still alive. That my own people didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?”

Pain filled his eyes. “That they didn’t hurt my mother.”

She bit back her gasp. “Why would your own people—”

“She wasn’t born on Honor.” The words poured out of him as if he’d kept the worry bottled up too long and had to release the
pressure. “My people never really accepted her as one of us.” Then he clamped his lips together as if he’d said too much.

“Why not?” she asked softly, her heart going out to him.

She resisted the urge to go to him, place her arms around him. She might intend to give comfort, but she didn’t trust herself.
At the moment the conversation was serious, but the underlying sexual heat from last night remained. And like an unlit fuse
in need of a match, one touch from Rion would light her up.

“On your world, when things go bad, it’s often the foreigner who’s blamed. It’s not so different on Honor.”

She could see that not knowing about his family’s safety tormented him. That he cared so much proved he was capable of love.
That he so easily revealed his worry made her feel special. “Your visions haven’t shown you—”

“Nothing, except that the situation back home is deteriorating.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. Then, as if realizing
what he was doing, he stilled completely.

His stiffness warned her he might shut down, that something terrible was bothering him. Back in her reporter days, she’d seen
soldiers with the same glazed look in their eyes. “What did you see?”

“Unari flaying my people with whips.”

She grimaced. “But you didn’t see any of your family”—she tried to offer hope—“so maybe they are all right.”

He stared at her, unseeing, looking inward, his voice flat, yet all the while he tipped the bottle at the perfect angle so
Nessie wouldn’t suck in air. “It was daylight. The man I did see… he was so emaciated, I would never have recognized Avril,
but he had a distinctive scar on his arm from a childhood accident.”

“Watching and being able to do nothing must be horrible.”

“I saw hundreds. Maybe thousands of people brutalized. Unless I find a way to prevent it, it’s going to happen… soon.”

“How do you know?”

He spoke with a methodical precision that she now knew masked the pain beneath the surface. “Avril looked as though he’d aged
a few years since I’d seen him last. But I also saw a Cuttee in the sky.”

“A Cuttee?”

“It’s a bird that changes from tan to orange when it goes into mating mode about once every five years. The last time the
Cuttees mated was about a year before I left home.”

“So how long until your vision comes true?”

“Weeks. Maybe days.”

Nessie spat out the bottle’s nipple. Deftly, Rion placed her over his shoulder and rubbed her back, waiting for the burp.

Marisa’s eyes widened. “You’ve taken care of a baby before?”

“I’ve watched Cael care for these two.” He glanced toward the bedroom where the young boy Cael and Lucan had adopted usually
slept. “Where’s Jaylon?”

“Staying over at a friend’s.” Marisa frowned, her eyes burning into him. Something wasn’t right. Rion couldn’t be that comfortable
or knowledgeable about a baby just from the few times he’d watched Cael take care of the twins.

“I’m sorry I missed Jaylon. He’s a fun kid.”

Nessie burped, and he moved her back onto his lap to feed her the rest of the bottled milk. She suckled for a minute or two
more and her eyes closed.

Rion looked up at Marisa, a Marisa who no longer hid from the hard questions. Ten years ago she wouldn’t have confronted him
or said, “You didn’t get this comfortable taking care of baby dragons from watching Cael.”

He didn’t deny it. “Why don’t we put Condor and Nessie in their cribs. Then we can talk some more.”

What was he up to? Without a baby in her arms, she could focus on him. Decide how much closer she wanted to get. His story
tugged at her. The sight of his big hands gently burping the baby had shaken something loose inside her. Rion had passion
for his people. He had tenderness for a baby. He was her brother’s best friend, too, and that complicated everything.

Was he worth the complications?

Yes. The answer came so fast, so hard she halted midstride. She peered down at the baby in her arms. For so many years, she’d
yearned for one of her own. She still wanted kids, but it had to be with the right man.

Was Rion that man? She didn’t know. But she’d never find out without taking a few risks. So she would learn all she could
about him, not just his history and plans for the future. She would learn what made him laugh, what made him happy. She wanted
to know it all. His taste, his touch, what made him tick.

And there was only one way to do that: get closer. Much closer.

The idea excited her. Pleased her. Her step light with certainty, she gazed at his broad back, wondering about the possibilities.

After placing the babies in their cribs, she led him into the kitchen. With a steady hand, she poured them each a glass of
wine. She sipped, savoring the rich flavor as it rolled over her tongue. “So how did you get so good with babies? Especially
dragonshaper babies?”

“I’m a dragonshaper.”

She jerked her head to stare at his wrist. She saw no scales, just a thick wrist, the skin bronzed, the forearms ripped with
muscle. “You’re a dragonshaper?”

Rion turned over his wrist, exposing his skin to her curious gaze. “Honorians aren’t marked by the dark purple scales that
Cael has passed on to Earth’s dragonshapers.”

“Does my brother know your world has dragonshapers? That you’re a dragonshaper?” Her own double hearts skipped a few beats
as she waited for his reply.

He took her hand, laced his fingers through hers, and squeezed. “Lucan knows. So does Cael, but I asked them to keep my secret.”

And now he was telling
her
his secret, too. “Why?”

He made tiny, enticing circles with his thumb over her hand. “During my travels, for my own safety, I’ve learned not to talk
about myself. I’ve visited many worlds and am not always certain who is friend or foe. If rumors spread back to the Unari
Tribes about an Honorian dragonshaper, they might come after me.”

“Why?” she asked again.

“Because the Unari creed is total domination, total darkness. Part of their tactic is to crush all hope. The mere idea of
anyone escaping is total anathema to them.”

“So you don’t speak about your dragonshaping?”

“Or about my visions, either.” Life had etched composure and dignity into his face.

She cocked her head to the side, not totally buying that he trusted her, but not pulling her hand away, either.

“It’s difficult to predict what will upset others,” he continued. “People fear what is different, what they don’t understand.
And what they don’t understand, they don’t believe.”

She shot him a thoughtful look. “Are you talking about your visions? Are you saying that we don’t believe in them the way
you do?”

“That’s really the core of the problem.” He released her hand and stroked his fingertips up and down her arm, his touch feather
light. “Because if your people believed me, they’d marshal every resource to fight the Unari Tribes.”

The guy was complicated, fascinating, and determined. She tipped up her glass, sipped the last of her wine, then rested her
hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “My brother believes you.”

He held her gaze, the gray in his eyes darkening. “Do you?”

She didn’t look away, but her stomach fluttered. “My brother has an inherent faith that goes beyond what he can see, taste,
and touch. I’m a bit more hands-on. I like proof. I’m cautious.”

Yet she was leaning into his chest, her fingers inching over his shoulders to his neck, enjoying the feel of him. She couldn’t
seem to help herself.

“Aren’t you curious?” Rion asked, his voice low and husky.

“About what?” All his muscles bunching between her fingertips had a way of distracting her as much as his sexy tone.

“Other worlds.” He stared at her mouth, and she could have sworn she felt the heat. “Wouldn’t you like to use the transporter?”

He tangled his finger in a lock of her hair, and she cuddled into him, the movement feeling natural and right. As much as
she enjoyed having him here, she sympathized with his eagerness to go home. “I’m sorry you’re so worried about your family
and friends. But we can’t risk all of our safety by opening the portal. Surely you can understand that?”

“That’s not all I understand.” Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against his broad chest, his eyes searching hers.
“That’s not all I want.”

She saw herself mirrored in his eyes and knew she was desired.

—L
ADY
G
UINEVERE

O
h, God. Rion was about to kiss her. She could see the hunger in his gray eyes. The tension in his neck that held him rock
steady.

Was she going to kiss him?

It wasn’t every day that Marisa could have all that male sizzle wrapped around her. Hell, she wasn’t dead—and that’s what
she’d have to be, not to appreciate Rion’s attractiveness, or the power in his ripped muscles. But what really drew her in
was the purposefulness beneath the suave charm. Rion was a doer. Passionate about his cause and his people.

She raised her gaze from his long, calloused fingers to his shoulders that were as broad as the English Channel, to his fascinating
lips, to his bold gray eyes. Eyes that seemed to pierce straight to her core.

“Kiss me,” he demanded, his voice a sexy rumble.

There was nothing safe about his request. Nothing safe about the way she felt, all jumbled raw nerves, all excited and eager
to take a risk. And Rion was Lucan’s friend, honorable and trustworthy. Besides, she’d never felt desire this powerful. The
combination of his rugged good looks and the heat radiating from his body was sweeping her away in a perfect storm.

She let her fingers drift over his commanding shoulders to the cords on the back of his neck and threaded them into his thick
hair. Then ever so slowly, she tugged his head down, until she could distinguish tiny flecks of dark green in his gray eyes.

Stomach clenching in delicious anticipation, she rose on her tiptoes, leaned toward all his magnetic male hardness. Another
inch. And then his lips met hers.

His mouth brushed hers with a soft, teasing graze that left her aching and craving far more. Parting her mouth, she used the
tip of her tongue to trace his full lips. He tasted of red wine, plus an erotic tang uniquely his own.

His tongue tangled with hers, giving and taking. Dancing and arousing her with a smooth rhythm that made her feel light and
supple. And then he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, her ears.

“That tickles.” She squirmed and nipped his shoulder right through his shirt.

“Are your scales ticklish, too?” he asked with a mischievous grin. Then before she could answer, he lifted her hand and pressed
his lips to the inside of her wrist, right on her sensitive scales.

Wondrous sensations undulated up her arm and down her spine, then spread to her limbs. Rion nuzzled his way over her flesh,
his lips nibbling and licking. Every scale on her body quivered in an electrifying chain reaction that escalated with each
lick. And the scales that crossed at the apex of her thighs had her squirming.

She let out a soft moan of pleasure as her dragonblood pulsed through her like a crisp burst of wind, leaving no part of her
untouched. Her nipples hardened. Moisture seeped between her thighs.

Pure erotic sensation had her swaying on her feet. Rion scooped her into his arms and carried her to the sofa. Kneeling beside
her, he leaned forward and kissed her mouth. “Are you all right?”

“Very all right.” With a grin, she grabbed his collar and pulled him on top of her. His weight settled nicely between her
legs, his sex hard and firm against her thigh.

To avoid crushing her, he lifted onto his elbows, but she didn’t let his lips escape hers. She needed more. More of him. Her
fingers burned to explore all his powerful male flesh.

Bunching his shirt in her hands, she yanked it over his head. Up close, his chest was broader, smoother, harder than she’d
expected and all deliciously bronzed by wind and sun. She ran her hands over his hot flesh, wishing she could touch all of
him at once. Damn. He was ripped.

She skimmed her hands along his tapered sides and muscular back. He sucked in his breath, then let it out slowly, the air
rasping her ear. “How long until your brother gets back?”

“Long enough if you hurry.” She wriggled her hands between them to his zipper.

“Easy.” His hand closed over hers. “Our first time, shouldn’t be rushed.”

“Damn it.” She didn’t want to stop and think. Right now, at this moment, she knew exactly what she wanted. Him. “If you’re
afraid of my brother—”