Chapter 6

“Are you a vegetarian?”

“No,” Holly assured him with a brief laugh.

She’d been relieved when she joined him in his suite that Dylan was still dressed as casually as she was. He wore a blue polo shirt and black denims. Holly had replaced her cream blouse with the only change of clothing she’d brought with her, a dark green blouse she knew complemented the color of her eyes.

Dylan still looked concerned. “Is the steak cooked enough for you?”

“It’s fine.”

“You’ve only eaten one bite of it.”

That was probably because Holly’s appetite had deserted her the moment the two of them sat down together to eat dinner in the sitting area of Dylan’s suite.

It was a much more masculine suite than the one she currently occupied. The furniture in here was a large and comfortable mahogany, with original paintings and even a tapestry hanging on the plain gray stone walls. A log fire crackled merrily in the huge hearth in the sitting area, where a table had been set beside the window for the two of them to eat dinner together. It was a scene set for intimacy.

Something which Holly felt deeply. There were at least another half dozen people in the castle—the castle, for goodness’ sake!—but the two of them were completely alone in here.

Dylan, after they’d returned from the beach, had whisked her up the stairs without so much as saying a word to any of his brothers or sisters-in-law to let them know they’d returned. Holly hadn’t seen any of them since, and she very much doubted any of his family would dare to intrude on their privacy now either.

She gave a rueful shrug. “I don’t think it will hurt me to lose a few pounds.”

“I’d prefer you stay exactly as you are.”

Holly gave Dylan a startled look and then as quickly lowered her gaze back to the barely touched food on her plate. Her hands were trembling slightly from the unnerving glow she saw in those intense sapphire eyes.

She gave a dismissive laugh. “Luckily it’s my own decision whether or not I choose to lose weight.”

“Is it?”

The two of them had talked of general things during the first course of their meal. They hadn’t quite gotten round to discussing the state of the economy, but they had discussed their likes and dislikes in books and films and discovered they enjoyed a lot of the same things. But as the meal progressed and Holly’s physical awareness of Dylan increased, so did her tension. Their conversation had become more and more stilted during the main course of the meal. It had now taken a turn toward the surreal.

“Oh, I think so,” she attempted to tease. “Besides,” she sobered, “I’m really not hungry.”

“You should eat.”

She frowned at Dylan’s persistence. “I’d rather not.”

“You need to keep your strength up for what’s ahead.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t see how my eating more is going to make this situation with the Russian bratva any more bearable.”

That hadn’t been the “what’s ahead” Dylan referred to.

After the bite, a dragon mating took days, not hours, to be complete and binding. Days when neither of them would have more than a few hours’ sleep in between even longer hours of fierce and intense lovemaking. The two of them would be joined for long lengths of time by the mating barb on his cock. The only nourishment they would take during that time was from each other.

If Holly agreed to the mating, and that was still a big if, she was going to need to be as healthy and strong as it was possible for her to be before that mating began. His brothers’ human mates had withstood the mating without too much difficulty, but Holly was worn down from years, not days, of hard work and responsibility. Once they were mated, Dylan intended to ensure she was relieved of both those things.

If or when they were mated.

He reached out to encircle one of her wrists with his fingers, instantly aware of her indrawn breath before she stopped breathing altogether. He could hear the rush of blood coursing hotly through her veins. Feel the too-fast pulse beneath his fingertips. The heat of her skin. The thrum of her body’s arousal.

Her deepening arousal.

An arousal she’d indulged in the bath earlier, when it was his right, his pleasure, to do so.

He really would have preferred to wait to tell Holly any of this until after the matter with Markovic was settled, but her deepening arousal made that impossible. He knew Holly’s need for them to make love was only going to get worse, until it became so intense, it was a physical pain that only Dylan could assuage. As her mate, he was sworn to protect her. Allowing her to feel even a moment’s discomfort or pain when he could prevent it was a part of that protection.

He released her, breathing in deeply before speaking. “I said earlier there was something I need to discuss with you.”

Holly heaved a sigh of relief at the removal of Dylan’s fingers from about her wrist. For a moment, it had felt as if he was more attuned to her body than she was. As if he knew exactly how much her nipples ached to be sucked. By him. How her clit craved being stroked. By his fingers and tongue. How she longed to have his cock inside her. Pleasuring her.

Maybe she had been working too hard?

Because no matter how gorgeous Dylan was, how muscular that lean, taut body, she’d never wanted any man like she now craved Dylan.

She nodded in answer to his statement. “So you did.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to eat any more? The steak? Dessert?”

“No, I’m really fine.”

He rose abruptly to his feet. “Let’s sit on the sofa, where it’s more comfortable.”

Holly stood to follow him slowly over to the seating area in front of the warmth of the log fire. She was a little uneasy at his intensity as she made herself comfortable on the couch and watched Dylan throw a couple more logs onto the fire.

A frown creased his brow as he turned to face her. “What I’m about to tell you might seem a little…unbelievable.” He grimaced. “But I want you to hear me out before you decide to get up and leave. I can prove what I’m saying, but I would rather you hear the words first.”

Her unease deepened. “Are you sure you want to tell me if it’s that serious?”

His mouth twisted. “I don’t have a choice.”

She eyed him warily. “Why don’t you?”

He gave a half smile. “I’ll tell you that too once I’ve explained the first part.”

“Okay,” Holly murmured guardedly.

He nodded. “Remember I told you three of my brothers died?”

“Yes.”

“Well, one of those brothers was King Arthur. The Knights-of-the-Round-Table King Arthur. Although there were no actual knights as such, or a round table— Sit down and hear me out, Holly,” Dylan instructed as she rose abruptly to her feet.

“I don’t think so.” Her heart was pounding, and it had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with the fact she was alone with a man who thought he was the brother of King Arthur. “Garrett was right about you. You are an alcoholic. To the degree you’re having hallucinations—”

“Did you see me drink any of the wine with our meal?”

No, she hadn’t, but that didn’t prove a damn thing. “That’s the thing about alcoholics. Most of them do their drinking alone.”

“I am not an alcoholic,” he bit out between gritted teeth. “Garrett only said that because we had to give you some explanation as to why I had to retrieve my blood samples before any tests could be done on them.”

Her curiosity got the better of her. “Why did you do that?”

“Because those tests would have shown that I’m not completely human.”

O-kay. “I think it’s time I left.” Past time, actually. She should never have come here in the first place. She knew nothing about this man other than that she had felt drawn into seeking him out and asking for his help. She had been so sure Dylan could help her, it was whether he would that had been in question. To now learn he was unstable, to have that help given to her and then snatched away again because of that instability, was beyond bearing.

Tears stung Holly’s eyes as she bent to pick up her shoulder bag from where she’d placed it on the floor earlier. Dylan was nothing more than a drunk, a man who believed he wasn’t human and that one of his brothers had been King Arthur.

King Arthur, for God’s sake. A man most historians believed hadn’t existed at all. There had been a King Arthur, way back in the fifth or sixth century, but it was doubtful it had been the same Arthur myth and legend referred to.

As for his not being completely human… Dylan was the most immediately human man she had ever met. Her responses to him were proof of that.

“You need to seek professional help, Dylan,” she said in her professional voice. “A specialist. Someone who can help you with your addiction.”

Dylan remembered laughing when his brothers told him of their human mates’ reaction to hearing their family history. He didn’t find it in the least amusing when his own mate was now having the same reaction. Damn it, he hadn’t even gotten as far as telling Holly he was a dragon shifter. Or that she was his fated mate.

“My brother Gabriel was killed in the same battle as Arthur,” he continued determinedly. “Rufus was killed by— He died in the nineteenth century.” He quickly omitted mentioning the subject of dragon shifters and dragon hunters just yet. “My brothers and I have been alive for sixteen hundred years—”

“Okay, that really is enough, Dylan.” Green eyes flashed with anger. “I sympathize with your condition, I really do, but I can’t stay here and listen to this a moment longer—”

“You will not leave, and you will listen to me!”

Holly stared at him as she froze in place, momentarily stunned at the absolutely power she heard behind those words. Dylan no longer appeared to be just that dazzlingly attractive man she’d been drawn to from the beginning. He now seemed even taller and larger. His eyes were a deep and glowing blue, and he spoke as if he expected to be instantly obeyed.

Parts of her wanted to obey. Her body still trembled with the deepening need to have Dylan make love to her.

It was par for the course that the first time Holly had ever wanted a man this desperately, he turned out to be delusional as well as an alcoholic. Or, rather, because he was an alcoholic.

She gave a self-derisive shake of her head. “That voice is a neat trick, but I don’t have time for this right— What are you doing?” She backed up against the edge of the couch as Dylan suddenly seemed to loom over her.

He reached out to grasp hold of the tops of her arms and shake her. “You will listen to me, damn you.”

Holly kept her gaze fixed on his on the basis experts advised it was best to look danger in the eye rather than show weakness by glancing away. Of course, those experts were usually referring to the danger of a rabid dog or a wild animal, of which Dylan was neither. But right now, Holly didn’t have any other defense.

She moistened her dry lips before speaking. “You—” She broke off as the door to the suite was thrown open and yet another dark-haired Pendragon brother, one she hadn’t met yet, filled most of the doorway so that she could just catch a glimpse of Deryk standing in the hallway behind him.

“Let her go, Dylan,” the dark-haired man instructed evenly.

Dylan shot his brothers an impatient glare. “I’m not hurting her—”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Deryk warned.

“You are frightening her, at the very least.” The dark-haired Pendragon brother walked across the room until he stood only feet away. “Let her go, Dylan,” he repeated harshly.

Holly had no idea how she knew this man was Grigor, the sixth brother Deryk and Izzy had told her wasn’t a pussycat. She just knew that this grim-faced and dark-eyed man who towered as tall and large as his brothers was wilder and even less controlled than the other brothers she’d met.

Dylan released Holly so suddenly that she stumbled slightly, grateful when Grigor reached out to grasp her arm and help her regain her balance.

“Take your fucking hand off her,” Dylan thundered. “Now!”

To Holly’s surprise Grigor did exactly that, but instead of stepping away, he moved to stand in front of her.

As if Grigor was protecting her from Dylan?

Was Dylan really that out of control? As a doctor, she knew alcohol did strange things to some people, but it saddened her that Dylan was one of those people. He had so much going for him: his looks, his wealth, and his family. Why on earth would he allow alcohol to take him over in this way and ruin all that?

“Step away, Dylan,” Grigor instructed quietly.

Dylan sighed his impatience as he raised his gaze briefly toward the ceiling before narrowing that piercing gaze on his brother. “I am not out of control. I would never hurt Holly.” He made the two statements in a flat, even voice.

“Is that why she looked terrified when we came in?” Deryk challenged as he stepped farther into the room.

Dylan spared his brother a short glance. “Burst in,” he corrected.

“We heard the compulsion in your voice all the way downstairs.”

He nodded. “The only reason Holly looks so fucking terrified is because I was attempting to explain to her about Arthur.”

“Ah.” Deryk grimaced.

Grigor frowned. “I’m guessing it’s not going well?”

Dylan gave a disgusted snort. “The master of the understatement.”

Holly glanced from one brother to the other before shaking her head. “It really isn’t healthy for the two of you to feed his delusion.”

Dylan raised one dark eyebrow in his brothers’ direction. “Would one of you like to tell her, or shall I continue?”

Deryk gave him a slap on the back before returning to the open doorway. “I’m happy to leave it to you.”

“Me too.” Grigor joined Deryk. “Just try to keep the noise down, hm?”

Holly gaped at them. “Do the two of you intend to just leave me here with him?”

“You’ll thank us for it later,” Deryk assured her enigmatically.

Grigor nodded. “It’s for the best.”

“I expect it’s a bit like what humans say about ‘ripping off a plaster,’” Deryk told Dylan mildly. “Best to just get it over with as quickly as possible and then deal with the screams.” He closed the door softly behind him as they left.

Holly couldn’t believe these two men were just leaving her here with a man who was quite obviously unbalanced.

And what did Deryk mean by it’s what humans say?

Dylan almost laughed at the look of incredulity on Holly’s face after his brothers’ hurried departure. Almost. Because there was nothing in the least amusing about this situation. Nor did he like the fear he could still see in Holly’s gaze as she eyed him warily. Her face was also very pale.

He gave a deep sigh. “So which would you prefer? The ripping off of the plaster—whatever that means? Or shall I continue to tell you slowly so as to give you a chance to absorb exactly what I’m saying?”

She released a shaky breath. “Rip off the plaster.”

He’d known that would be her choice. He already knew from Holly’s reason for being here what a fighter his mate was. That she would face any problem head-on rather than try to avoid it. “Sit down first.”

She arched a rueful brow. “Is that going to help?”

“It will prevent you from hurting yourself if you should fall,” he drawled.

Holly perched on the edge of the couch, obviously ready to make a mad dash for the door if she felt it necessary.

As if Dylan’s preternatural speed would even allow her to reach the door.

Holly was his to protect now, whether she chose to mate with him or not.