Fury of a Highland Dragon (8 page)

Meeting Tydrin might have been a fluke, but making love with him wasn’t a mistake. She belonged in his arms. He belonged in hers. And as he nestled in, snuggling closer, an abiding truth took hold. He felt right. Was the perfect fit, touching a place inside her where souls dovetailed and love conquered all. So onward and upward. Time to shove caution aside. Right. Wrong. Neither applied anymore. She refused to run away. She’d keep him close instead, enjoy every second of him—for as long as the powers-that-be allowed.

F
lat on his back on his side of the bed, a rumpled sheet around his waist and a satisfied female asleep at his side, Tydrin sighed in contentment. Hmm, unbelievable. It felt so good to lie back in near darkness and relax for a while. For the first time in what seemed like forever. To be expected. Pretty accurate time wise. His brain never turned off, not even during the day while he slept. Like a hamster on a wheel, his mind whirled at breakneck speed, sprinting from one thought to the next, never allowing him to unwind.

Sad in some ways. Well-earned in others.

He didn’t deserve relief from the pain. The ugliness of his past said as much. The guilt he carried like a loadstone proved it, eating at him, hollowing him out until emptiness threatened and nothing good remained.

But not right now.

The mental slowdown drew him into enjoyment. Muscles lax and eyes closed, Tydrin drifted further into relaxation. The reprieve gave him hope. The reason behind it brought him peace. And the woman responsible for it all? An image of her—spine bowed in supplication as he made love to her—formed in his mind’s eye. Gratitude gripped his heart. Thank God for her. Beautiful Ivy. Feisty wee lass with the indomitable spirit and lush body. Her presence drove his demons away, returned his faith, replaced his raison d’être—the massive hole in the center of his life—gifting him with the promise of a better future.

He turned his head on the pillow.

Cotton rustled against his ear as he glanced her way. Light from the fish tank across the room reached out to touch her face. Another round of contentment ghosted through him. Air left his chest in a rush. Bloody hell, not his imagination at all. There she was, his dream girl—Ivy of the messy red hair, pulse-raising pale skin and uber-keen mind. His gaze left her face to roam her bare breasts. Volcanic need surged, hardening him beneath the sheet. Again. Like always. Hard as a pike appeared to be his default setting whenever he looked at her. The thought made him smile. He shook his head, and rolling onto his side, propped himself up on one elbow to watch her sleep.

Exhausted by his constant need all afternoon, she lay half covered, the sheet at her waist, thick lashes curved in half-moons against her cheeks. Raising his hand, Tydrin traced the gorgeous curve of her hip. She frowned in her sleep. Satisfaction scorched him as he continued to explore. His palm slid over the flat expanse of her belly and up her ribcage. Ivy whispered his name. He swallowed a groan. God, she was incredible. Hot as hell when he touched her. Responsive as all get out when he slipped between her thighs. So welcoming she made him throb just thinking about the last round of loving.

Awe joined the happiness swimming in his veins.

Undone.

He was completely
undone
by her. In thrall, under her spell, unraveling into a messy emotional tangle, but…whatever. His reaction to her didn’t require a label. Well, except for one. Energy-fuse, the magical bond between a Dragonkind male and his mate. Rooted in magic. Unbreakable once created. A precious energy pairing forged by the Meridian. The wonder of it tightened his chest. Tydrin drew a steadying breath. How amazing. One in a million odds. A long shot most warriors never got to take. Thank God he wasn’t most. For some reason, the universe smiled down on him. Now he knew. No sense fighting it. He’d been caught the moment he’d laid eyes on Ivy in the cemetery. Now he’d fallen hard, his heart already given, in the hands of the only female made and meant for him.

A miracle, pure and perfect. More than he deserved given the sin he couldn’t undo.

Turning his hand, he cupped her breast.

Ivy stirred beneath his palm. Her eyelashes flicked. The thick fringe lifted, and he got nailed by sleepy blue eyes. She hummed, awakening beneath his touch. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

Her lips tipped up at the corners. “I think I might be dead.”

He huffed in amusement. “Need me tae revive you?”

“Good God, no.” With a grimace, she stretched, bending her knees beneath the sheet. Fine cotton tented, rustling in protest. Ivy groaned. “I’ve got enough sore muscles as it is.”

“How about a shower, then?”

“Hmm, hot water.” She sighed, unabashed pleasure in the sound. “Yes, please.”

He chuckled and, leaning in, planted his hand beside her shoulder, caging her in his arms. His mouth hovered over her breast. Ivy froze beneath him, muscles taut as she waited for him to make his move. Enjoying the taunt and her anticipation, he flicked the tip of her nipple with his tongue. Her breath hitched. He growled in satisfaction, and drawing away, rolled over her to reach the side of the bed.

His arse landed on the mattress edge a second before his feet hit the floor. “Up you get, lass.”

“God,” she said, a grumble in her voice. “You are such a tease.”

“You love it.”

“True.” She sighed again. “Totally sad, but true.”

Grinning at her over his shoulder, he shackled her wrist and pulled her upright. She settled beside him. He didn’t let her rest long. Full of energy, so light of heart he could hardly stand himself, Tydrin lifted her onto her feet. She swayed against him. He pulled her close, waited until she caught her balance, then took her hand and towed her around the end of the bed. Sidestepping the antique table sitting beside his favorite armchair, he bypassed the fish tank and headed for the door across the room. “A quick shower, lovely. Wash and go. We need to hurry.”

Turning her palm, she laced her fingers with his. “Why?”

“The others are already gathering for the evening meal.”

Her brows furrowed. “Others?”

“My family, the other males in my pack. ’Tis time you met them.”

“Oh,” she whispered, sounding unsure. She didn’t stop moving, though. Hot on his heels, her hand in his, she followed him into the bathroom. “Are they like you?”

Unleashing his magic, Tydrin sent out a mental command. The halogens powered up above his head. Light spilled, making Ivy squint, illuminating marble-clad walls and an enormous free standing shower in the center of the room. Ivy’s gaze strayed to the custom made vanity sitting to one side. Built by a master carpenter eons ago, the antique was a tribute to his kind, dragons in flight carved into walnut panels, fangs bared, wings spread wide, the moon rising behind each one.

“Like me?”

She nodded. “Dragonkind.”

“Aye.”

Avoiding his gaze, Ivy stared at the double sinks. Her throat worked as she swallowed. Hooked into her life-force, Tydrin registered the sudden shift in her energy. Too much tension. A flicker of fear. Unease tightened his chest. What the hell? A moment ago she’d been relaxed and playful. Now she looked worried, a second away from true panic. Frowning, Tydrin set his finger beneath her chin. She resisted his touch, refusing the silent request.

He applied gentle pressure, turning her toward him. “Look at me, Ivy.”

She hesitated.

He insisted, firming his grip on her chin.

Worried blue eyes met his.

Disquiet spiraled into concern. “What’s wrong?”

She blew out a shaky breath. “Will they be upset that I’m here?”

Her question cracked him wide open. Compassion bled through the fissure, urging him to reassure and shield her. “Nay, lovely. Donnae worry so. My brothers-in-arms will love you.”

Straight white teeth peaked out to worry her bottom lip. “You can’t know that.”

“Sure I can.”

“How?”

“They’ll love you because I already do.”

Surprise winged across her face.

Tydrin smoothed his expression, smothering a grimace. Well, shite. So much for keeping his secret under wraps. Talk about bad timing. He hadn’t meant to go all hardcore on her. Admitting his feelings this soon constituted a bad idea. The worst under present circumstances. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. Or rush her into a relationship she wasn’t ready to accept. At least, not yet.

Ivy needed time to adjust to him and what he wanted from her. His plan—up until three seconds ago. Christ, him and his big mouth—had gone something like: have her spend time in his world, help her become accustom to Dragonkind ways, pray she fell as hard and fast as he had for her. But as she drew in a soft breath, and he saw wonder bloom in her eyes, Tydrin wondered if telling her the truth hadn’t been a mistake. Not that it mattered anymore. He’d already let the cat out of the bag. Now he refused to take back the declaration. Or retreat into emotional safety.

Time wouldn’t change the facts.

He loved her. Aye, it might be a young love—one not yet fully realized—but his dragon half made it clear. Today, tomorrow, a year from now, the timeframe wouldn’t affect the outcome. His heart was set, and no matter what happened, he would always choose Ivy.

B
ack in jeans and a T-shirt, Ivy wanted to plant her feet as Tydrin towed her toward the bedroom door. She resisted the impulse at the last second, managing to hang onto her manners—and avoid the corner of a wide-backed arm chair—but boy, it was hard. Almost too close to call as panic pushed her buttons. The urge to turn and run thrummed through her. Excellent idea. Running. Hiding. Finding a place to lay low for a while ranked high on her to-do list. She wouldn’t disappear for long. A week of downtime would do. A month would be preferable, but well…crap. Just crap. Her pesky sense of fair play rejected the plan, refusing to press her heels to the floor and put on the brakes.

Too bad, really.

A little resistance would go a long way right now.

The tension cranking her tight worsened. An ache bloomed behind her eyes, then circled round to hammer the base of her skull. Ivy grimaced. Wonderful. Headache territory. Not a great sign. The pain signaled trouble, pointing to an inescapable fact. She was in deep doo-doo, the kind that specialized in first meetings and high expectations.

Tydrin kept walking.

Ivy’s brain continued churning. Why? Oh, nothing special—just a catastrophe in the making. Tydrin wanted her to meet his family.
Her
—a girl with no social graces and zero idea how to interact with normal people, never mind a bunch of man-dragons. But even as she acknowledged the impending doom, she stayed silent, keeping her hand in Tydrin’s, allowing him to open the door without protest.

Well-oiled hinges sighed.

Bright light spilled over the threshold, cutting a swathe across pale walls and hardwood floor. With a gentle tug, Tydrin drew her out of the bedroom. Mosaic tiles chilled the bottoms of her bare feet, heralding a new space and a switch in décor. Nerves twisted her stomach into knots. Courage forced her to move forward. Okay. So the situation wasn’t ideal, but it was too late to change it. She’d reached the point of no return. Now or never. She could do it—cling to politesse, meet the pack, and pray she didn’t say anything stupid. Or act like a social invalid and embarrass Tydrin in the process.

Leveling her chin, she glanced around. Her jaw dropped. Holy Christmas and a thousand sparkling lights, talk about unexpected. Spectacular too. Head tipped back, she stared at the stained glass dome rising overhead before returning her attention to the room. The expansive space screamed expensive. Centuries old too, with dark wood paneling and scarred, ancient-looking doors marching around the circular room.

Her gaze drifted right, toward the massive stone fireplace.

Built on ancient lines, the hearth followed the curve, spanning the entire wall. Flames ate at logs as big as tree trunks, licking between the charred stack, throwing the scent of peat moss into the air. Ivy breath it in. The woodsy aroma triggered a memory, reminding her of nights she’d sat at her father knee, listening while he read her a bedtime story in front of the fire. Her mouth curved as the memory took hold. God, she hadn’t thought about that in years. Forever, really. And yet as she took in Tydrin’s home, the pleasant reminder calmed her, helping her settle back into her own skin.

All of this could be hers.

Tydrin had said as much. Asked her to stay in the semi-dark, voice coaxing while he made love to her, how he felt about her on full display. Ivy swallowed the lump her throat. God, she was such a jerk. She hadn’t answered him. Hadn’t know what to say or how to react to his invitation. Being with him—no matter how right it felt—was still so new. Shiny and bright. No wear and tear on their budding love affair at all. Which meant…

She needed to think it through. And take more time to decide.

On what, she wasn’t exactly sure. Staying with Tydrin seemed like a done deal. Was a no-brainer in some ways and a crazy plan in others. Which pointed to an indisputable—and somewhat scary—fact: she was falling hard and fast for a man-dragon. The realization circled. Ivy huffed. Foolish. Brainless. She was acting like an idiot, allowing herself to fall, but—

Tydrin made it so easy.

He refused to hide anything from her—answering her questions, opening up, sharing about himself—and the ins and outs of Dragonkind—without hesitation, making her feel special and needed, and yes, even loved.

Now she didn’t want to deny him anything.

Even if the decision changed the course of her life.

For better. For worse. Surprise, surprise, either scenario would be all right with her—just as long as she got to stay with him. And as Ivy looked around, taking in the luxury, she imagined herself living in the lair. The deep seated armchair in front of the fireplace would be her spot. A great place to curl up with her computer and wreak havoc on the internet. She pursed her lips. Her gaze swung left, narrowing on the long couches lounging above a collection of Persian rugs. Hmm, one of those would work too. Odd, wasn’t it? She could already see herself sitting there. Was making herself right at home, and why not? Despite the enormity of the space, the room was cozy. Ritzy sure, but comfortable too. Totally normal—more fancy hotel than supernatural bat cave-—with old world charm and a distinctly human vibe.

Tydrin skirted an antique desk sitting to one side.

The abrupt shift knocked Ivy out of her thoughts and back into the present. She drew a fortifying breath. Lord save and keep her. It was happening. Any moment now, it would happen. His brothers-in-arms would arrive, and despite her idiotic fantasy of claiming the perfect spot in the room, she would be screwed.

Instinct screeched at her, yelling “do something!”

Ivy scrambled to obey. She needed a plan, just in case things went south. Stalling still seemed like a safest bet. Saner with an extra helping of advisable too, but well…damn it all. She didn’t want to disappoint Tydrin. Particularly after he’d been so good to her—keeping her safe, letting her stay, loving her so well she still tingled in interesting places. But honestly—his family? Really? Ivy shivered and tightened her grip on his hand as personal history highlighted her nasty habit of bungling social situations.

“Umm, Tydrin?”

“Simmer down, luv.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. Untangling his hand from hers, he cupped her shoulders and started massaging. Tense muscles sighed in relief. Ivy swallowed a moan. God, she loved it when he touched her. It didn’t matter how—or even why—but every time he got close she reacted the same way. With pleasure and all out acceptance, as though nothing better existed in the world. “It’s going tae be fine.”

“Define fine, because you know…” His fingers pressed down, hitting some magical spot, releasing more tension. After a second—or twenty—of complete bliss, she rebooted her brain, forcing it back on line. “Look, I know I’m being a wuss about this, but—”

“You are not.”

“It doesn’t feel all that
fine
to me,” she said, finding his indignant tone endearing even as she ignored the interruption.

“You’re nervous. Nothing wrong with that, Ivy, but donnae let it get the better of you. My brothers-in-arms arnae going tae—”

A door slammed across the room.

The bang echoed before dissipating beneath the dome.

“Ah, good. Perfect timing.” The low, gravel-filled voice killed the quiet, raising the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. Ivy went rigid beneath Tydrin’s hands. Holy crap. Not good. She wasn’t ready yet, and whoever stood at her back sounded scary. Like a maniac psycho killer, not
fine
at all by her standards. “Bring her over here, Tydrin. I need a closer look.”

“Shite, Wallaig.” Tydrin scowled at someone over the top of her head. “Have you no manners?”

“None I can find at the moment.”

Tydrin sighed, the sound full of resignation. “You’re a complete wanker.”

The guy snorted. “Stop stalling, laddie. Get over here. Let’s have a look at her.”

Frozen in place, Ivy didn’t turn around. She stared at Tydrin instead, refusing to acknowledge the man across the room. Wallaig, the grouchy sounding guy, could wait. She wanted her, ah…she frowned. What in God’s name should she call Tydrin—her boyfriend, her lover, the man aiding and abetting her? She exhaled in a rush. All right. A big fat no to that last option. As far as titles went, it sucked. Was way too long as well. Nowhere near fun to explain to his pack either. Besides,
boyfriend
made her go all warm and fuzzy inside, ringing truer than anything else in a very long time.

Hands sliding down to her waist, Tydrin tipped his chin. “Ready?”

“Good to go,” she said, lying through her teeth.

Approval sparked in his eyes. “There’s my lass.”

Giving her no chance to rethink her answer, he spun her around. Wood paneling whirled past. The walls blurred. Her shoe laces tangled, making her trip over her own feet. Ivy grunted. Wonderful. Just what she didn’t need—his help making a terrible first impression. Tydrin stopped the tilt-a-whirl. The room righted. As she regained her balance, her gaze landed on Wallaig. Surprise thumped on her. Her eyes widened and…holy hugeness, batman. The guy was a ginger-haired giant, a tall, muscular, lethal looking nightmare. One that screamed “come closer, my pretty, so I can kill you.” Tydrin walked her forward, toward the guy doing a fantastic impression of a serial killer.

Her feet slowed to a crawl. She squeezed his forearm to get his attention.

“Donnae let the size of him fool you, lovely.” Back in tow-her-behind-him mode, Tydrin pulled her around the end of a couch. “He wouldnae hurt a fly, never mind a female.”

Wallaig scowled. “Yer such a brat…ruining my fun.”

“Since when do you have fun?”

“Every time I beat the snot out of you.”

Tydrin scoffed. “That hasn’t happened since I was a fledging.”

“Ah, the good old days,” Wallaig said, fierce expression giving way to longing. “Such wonderful memories.”

Eyes twinkling, Tydrin winked at her. Ivy smiled against her will. Gosh darn it all. How did he do that to her? Despite her nerves—and his relentless pace—she found him way too charming. Lethal in his appeal. So frigging handsome, Ivy grumbled in resignation and gave up the fight. It was going to be all right. Perfectly okay. Tydrin had everything under control—her, himself, Wallaig and his nasty killer vibe too. No reason to worry. Or turn tail and run. No matter how uneasy Wallaig made her, she trusted Tydrin to keep her safe and know who presented a threat to her. And Wallaig? No matter how fierce the guy looked, he didn’t make the cut.

The realization struck like a lightning bolt.

Sparks flew inside her head as the truth zapped her. Holy smokes.
She trusted Tydrin.
She’d known she liked him—might even love him—but trust? Real let-it-all-go
trust
? Shock seeped into her veins. Ivy drew a shallow breath. Unprecedented. Beyond strange. When the hell had that happened? At her rescue at the cemetery? During the crazy midnight flight? After waking in his arms? She bit the inside of her bottom lip. Yup. Tick all those boxes. Each one applied. She wouldn’t have made love with him otherwise, so…

No more doubts.

Set them all aside.

Time to hand Tydrin the reins and allow him to lead.

Stopping in front of his friend, Tydrin drew her against his side. “Wallaig, meet Ivy. Ivy meet the arsehole I’ve the misfortune tae call comrade.”

Angling his chin, Wallaig nodded at her. Hazel eyes bore into hers and—

Ivy frowned. Huh. That was weird, and his eyes all wrong. Mere pinpoints, his pupils narrowed into vertical slits, slicing through golden-brown. A moment passed. Understanding struck. She opened her mouth before her brain told her to shut up. “You’re blind.”

Red brows popped up in surprise. “Observant, aren’t you, little one.”

Ivy cringed. Oh shit. Stupid, stupid mouth. Hurrah for social awkwardness. And interminable pauses. She’d done it again, speaking without first allowing her brain to vet the contents. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh God. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned—”

“Why not?” Wallaig shrugged. Muscles reacted to the shift, bunching under his T-shirt and over wide shoulders to ripple down his biceps. “’Tis naught more than the truth. I’d rather have your honesty than the alternative.”

“The alternative?” Ivy asked, parroting him like an idiot.

“You pussy-footing around the fact I cannae see. Bugs the shite out of me when people do that.” He studied her face, his regard intense, giving Ivy the impression he could actually see her, then glanced at Tydrin. “With your permission.”

“Make it quick, Wallaig,” Tydrin said, moving behind her. His heat pressed against her back, warming her through as he set his hands on her waist. “I will never again permit you tae touch her.”

“Understood.”

Gaze bouncing between the two men, Ivy tensed. “What—”

“Be still, little one,” Wallaig said, stepping within arm’s reach. “And know I will not hurt you. I wish to see you, naught more.”

See her.
What in God’s name did that mean?

The question buffeted her mind. Wallaig raised his hands. With a full body flinch, Ivy tried to back away. Acting like a wall at her back, Tydrin tightened his grip and stopped her retreat. He murmured a reassurance. His friend touched her face. A wide palm found her jaw, held her still, then drifted up to explore her features. Butterfly touches across her cheekbones and down her nose. Calloused fingertips following the curves of her eyebrows. A gentle swipe against the thick fringe of eyelashes. Ivy closed her eyes, struggling to be patient. She didn’t like his hands on her. She didn’t want to be touched by anyone but Tydrin. For all his gentleness, Wallaig’s touch felt odd. Unsafe. Completely wrong.

Keeping each stroke light, he brushed his hands over her hair, smoothing the long strands from her temples, then moved down to trace the shells of her ears,
seeing
her the only way a blind man could.

“Enough,” Tydrin growled, breaking the moment.

Ivy exhaled in relief.

 “Verra pretty. Powerful energy.” Dropping his hands, Wallaig stepped away. “You’re a lucky bastard, Tydrin.”

“I know.” Tydrin kissed the top of her head.