Their Runaway Mate (14 page)

When the last of the dragons had bowed and returned to their seats, conversation started again. Curious gazes kept returning to their trio. It didn't take much to surmise they were the hot topic of conversation. Three men approached the dais with plates. It was all very formal, as they set the plated food in front of Jasmine and her dragons. As soon as their food was delivered, others rose to get their own food from a long buffet table along the back of the hall.

"It smells delicious," she said. Her hands trembled as she lifted the cutlery to cut into her slice of beef. She hated being the center of attention. It reminded her of reading aloud in elementary school. She had stumbled over the syllables and her teacher had continually told her to speak up. Only this time, she couldn't help feeling that she was naked while reading aloud. The women's sneers suggested they couldn't see what anyone would find appealing about her, but the men's gazes? They told a whole other story. These dragon shifters seemed to like her curves. That actually made her more nervous than the snide women.

Men didn't go for women like her. At least not this many of them.

She chewed on her first bite. It was just as delicious as it smelled. Dark gravy flowed over her tongue as the beef melted in her mouth. She moaned softly.

Men all across the room pivoted toward her.

Jasmine froze. Damn dragons and their superior hearing. Dillon chuckled, breaking through her panic.

She forced the bite down her throat and grabbed her glass. Water sloshed over the edge as she brought it to her lips. She swallowed down a mouthful, then dabbed at her mouth.

They watched her every movement.

Where was an escape hatch when you needed one?

"Relax," Kylan whispered in her ear, as he brought his arm over the back of her chair. Every man in the room would have been able to hear him reassure her, but at least with a whisper there was a pretext of not drawing attention to it. His subtle warmth around her shoulders soothed her.

Then Dillon slid his hand down to her leg and squeezed gently, causing a new wave of tingles to course over her. Under their touches, the world shrank until it was only the three of them. "They've sworn to protect you," he said. "You are safe here."

Jasmine shifted in her seat. "When did they do that?"

"Just now, when they bowed before you," Kylan said. "They were showing their fealty to you… To us. It is the highest mark of honor."

"Oh." No wonder some of the women were hostile.

Dillon leaned toward her. "You are among friends here, Jasmine. So don't worry about showing your enjoyment of the beef or anything else. It does us good to know you are happy with the food on your plate… and the men at your side."

That should be easy. These two sexy men had made her happy. Ecstatically so. Over and over again. Heat blasted over her cheeks. She quivered, unable to contain her innate eagerness to have their hands on her again.

Kylan inhaled sharply. He grunted and tightened his arm around her shoulders. He leaned close again, until his lips tickled her ear. "Soon."

She nodded.

Dillon's breath caressed the other side of her neck. "Eat, you'll need your energy later."

"Shh," she admonished. "Everyone can hear you."

Dillon's hand tugged on her dress, pulling it up, until he could touch her bare skin. "Eat."

God, how was she supposed to feed herself when Dillon's illicit contact made little electric shocks explode over her body? Still, she couldn't stop herself from spreading her legs just a bit in a silent welcome.

Chapter 15

K
ylan's nostrils filled with the tantalizing aroma of Jasmine's fresh arousal. Damn. All he wanted to do was crawl under the table and lap her up, but he could wait. He would never expose her to ridicule or speculation.

The deep clang of the front door chime resounded through the banquet hall. He and all the other clan members tensed. Members of the clan were already here, so whoever rang the bell was an interloper.

"What was that?" Jasmine's fork clattered to her plate.

"Someone is here," Dillon said. He'd pulled his hand away from their mate and was poised to fight if needed. The hall was large by most standards, but it was too small for them to transition. It was rare for strangers to disturb them, so neither he nor Dillon had come armed. They were idiots. They should have. And they would from here out until Jasmine was safely claimed as theirs. He glanced at the inner guards, who had their hands balanced on their side weapons.

Laughlin, flanked by four guards, exited the room to answer the door.

The hall lay in hushed silence as they waited for a signal as to whether they were met by friend or foe. Of course, if anyone wanted to attack, they would hardly ring the doorbell first.

Kylan let his dragon surface in partial transformation. The tips of his fingers elongated to form razor sharp talons, which sliced through his flesh. Blood bubbled along the cuts.

"I'm scared," Jasmine whispered.

"We will protect you," Dillon and he said in unison.

But that didn't ease her worry. Her fear was palpable, flowing over her. He hated her anxiety, but he kept his eyes pinned to the doorway.

Unhurried, sure footsteps came down the hallway. Their shadows came first, falling across the floor. Kylan sucked in his breath, pulling all the scents on the air into his lungs.

"Maryk," Dillon muttered a moment before a delegation of dragons crossed into the room.

Jasmine grabbed Kylan's arm. Her nails bit into his skin, but he didn't flinch. An eerie calm settled over him. If anything, her obvious fear solidified his resolve and heightened his awareness. Theirs was a rational clan. He would not rush forward in a fit of rage until he could assess their intentions.

The delegation wore their ceremonial robes and capes.

Maryk was the second in the procession, behind his brother Ansyn, who had inherited the chiefdom upon their parents' death two years earlier. He walked with the air of a man accustomed to having those around him bow with deference.

"Ansyn Warryk and his delegation, milord," Laughlin said. Ansyn gazed curiously at Kylan's father. Only a few months ago, his dad had sat upon this very dais and co-ruled their clan in his own triad.

Kylan remained seated while the intruders marched toward them.

"Welcome, Lord Kelvin," Kylan said. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Ansyn eyed Jasmine with undisguised interest. She shivered as she surreptitiously curled her fingers around her dinner knife. He smiled at her boldness.

"We heard of your visitor, Lord Mannix, and have come to extend our greetings."

Kylan waved toward a table that was quickly being set up and arranged to the left of the head table. It would have been a slight on the incoming clan to have them at the back of the hall. It was always safer to avoid a war unless that was the only option remaining. "Please, sit. You are in time for our evening meal. We can speak later."

Maryk's eyes glowed yellow from his scarred face as he approached. His eyes darted to the right, landing on one of their Dragon's Tears refugees. Kylan made note of the girl, Gabby. Hmm. How did she know Maryk? He would follow up with her later. The scarred dragon nodded slightly, then his attention returned to Jasmine again. His mate clenched her knife and gritted her teeth.

Kylan had seen Dillon take that dragon down during the attack. And yet, here he was, walking through their hall as if he had never been injured. That could only mean that they had a human woman, one who wasn't tainted by the drug. Given how desperate Maryk had been to secure Jasmine, Kylan speculated that the woman was newly acquired, and probably not by her choice.

The volunteer process was supposed to eliminate kidnappings. He still held out hope that Xander and Kolz would be able to make things right with the humans and that they would get legitimate volunteers from here on out, but if the Kelvin clan continued to ignore basic protocol, they would jeopardize everything. And that would affect them all. He took a deep breath as he weighed his options. Kylan was a sworn protector and enforcer of the dragon clans, all of them, which meant he couldn't ignore the anomaly of Maryk's surprise recovery.

His first priority, though, was Jasmine.

They needed to ensure her safety. In the immediate, that meant they needed to remove her from the banquet as quickly as possible. And then later… There was only one thing they could do.

Would she forgive them for mating her without her consent if it kept her out of harm's way?

***

The remainder of their meal was spent under a cloak of awkward tension. Jasmine missed Dillon's stray hand and Kylan's soothing words. The whole clan ate in near silence.

This was her fault.

When their plates were removed, signalling the end of the meal, Kylan beckoned a group of his dragons forward. A tall handsome blond man and his equally good-looking primary led the men. They moved with an athletic grace, but there was no mistaking their warrior builds. These men could have been Vikings in a different life.

"Please escort Ms. Gordon to my suite and guard her with your lives," Kylan said simply and directly. He didn't raise his voice, but he didn't try to hide his directive either.

Jasmine grabbed at his arm. She didn't want to be away from them. "No, I'm—"

Kylan's sharp look cut off her words. She glared at the visiting dragons' table. Their whole delegation was watching the exchange with open interest. The man beside Maryk, the one who'd led them into the hall, smirked as he met her gaze. His eyebrow crooked up in a challenge. He gave her the heebie-jeebies. She clutched the comfortable weight of the knife in her hand.

She couldn't take on all of the dragons at that table, and she wouldn't start a battle that others would have to finish. She couldn't risk her men’s lives again the way she had when she'd been reluctant to leave the cabin. That had nearly cost Kylan's life. A war with another clan would risk the whole Mannix clan.

She deliberately drew her attention away from the delegation and nodded to Kylan. Dillon exhaled loudly, and she realized he'd been anxious about her reaction to this. She brushed her hand over his leg as she stood, to reassure him she'd be okay.

As soon as she stepped from the dais, Kylan's men surrounded her in a tight formation. They walked at her pace past the tables. She glanced over her shoulder quickly before they exited the room completely. Kylan and Dillon, both with their shoulders squared and their faces cut with unconcealed irritation, were also exiting the room, but through a door on the far side. The visiting delegation of dragons was close on their heels.

Maryk looked back at her then. He grinned and squished his mouth up as if sending her a kiss. She shuddered and walked into the hall. Her troop remained close until they reached the bedroom.

She reached for the doorknob, but the blond leader raised his hand to stop her. Although he was easily the same size as her dragons, full of muscle and strength, he didn't frighten her.

"Wait," he said firmly. His pale blue eyes rested on hers for a moment. Then he nodded to his primary. "Dirk."

The other man broke away from the group and stepped inside the room while the rest of them waited in the hallway. God, did they really think someone would be waiting to seize her from the bedroom? She took a deep breath. This world was so different from her previous life. How did anyone live like this?

She fingered the knife she'd brought up from the dining hall. It was like they'd stepped back in time to some medieval world where small lords fought and stole from one another. Even brides, or mates as the case might be.

The men surrounding her shifted suddenly. "Who goes there?"

"It's just me, Morgan," a woman said. Her laughter was like spring rain, easy and joyful. "Laughlin asked me to bring up this cake."

Morgan grunted. "Wait there."

They didn't move to include the woman in the circle of protection.

A moment later, Dirk returned. "Clear."

Morgan waved Jasmine into the room. "We'll be just outside if you need anything."

She entered the room. The clothing she'd worn earlier was still strewn on the floor where she'd dropped it upon receiving Dillon's gifts. The bedding on the massive bed was rumpled and twisted. And that man had just seen it all. Hell, the smell of sex still permeated the air. Heat scorched her cheeks.

"Wow. You had a bit of a party in here, didn't you?"

Jasmine spun around to discover the other woman stepping over her T-shirt.

"Hi," the blonde said with a smile. "I'm Gabby. That's short for Gabriella."

"Hi, I'm—"

"Oh, we all know who you are." Her light fluffy laughter filled the room again. "Jasmine Gordon. Do you like being called Jas?"

"Um, not really. Everyone calls me Jasmine."

"I'm sure Kylan and Dillon called you more than that." Gabby winked.

Jasmine pressed her fingers to her hot cheeks.

"So, where do you want this?" Gabby lifted the cake.

"There, I guess." Jasmine pointed at the small table beside the recliner.

Gabby set the plate down, then sat on the chair. "So, aren't they just the greatest?"

Jasmine lifted her eyebrows. "Who?"

"Kylan and Dillon, silly." Her eyes took on a dreamy quality. "I mean, the men here are all hotter than hell, but man, oh man… Dillon's smile could melt panties and Kylan's shoulders are enough to make a woman want to jump up and wrap her legs around them. Don't you think?"

Good God. Had they slept with this woman? Of course they had. She was stunning. Her skin was smooth like porcelain. There wasn't the slightest wrinkle or laugh line in sight. Her hair was so shiny and full she could be in a shampoo commercial.

"How long have you been here in Montrose?"

Gabby kept her smile on her face, but her nostrils flared slightly. This woman was not a friend. So what did she want? Maybe it didn't matter. Jasmine had wanted to know about the women in the clan and now she was alone with one. This was her chance.

"I arrived a few years ago." She shrugged.