| |
SINCE THE MOMENT Madison barged into his mind, he had wanted to throttle her. Nobody but kin was allowed anywhere near his thoughts, yet the futuristic little vixen had settled right in uninvited. If that weren’t enough, she took it upon herself to dictate who he should and should not lie with.
That was unforgivable.
So now, despite wanting nothing to do with her, it was high time he paid her a visit. Telling her telepathically her opinions were unwanted clearly did no good. He would need to do it in person. Something Julie’s ley-lines agreed with because soon after he made sure King David was safe at his holding, he found himself transported to the Stonehenge in twenty-first-century New Hampshire.
Frustratingly enough, his wavering magic wouldn’t allow him to change into suitable clothing. Truth told, though, the lasses here should know he was from fourteenth-century Scotland by now. Better that they get used to this attire sooner rather than later. So he strode through the snow, eager to confront Madison then do everything in his power to make her transition through all this difficult.
How he would go about that was yet to be seen.
All he knew was it was payback time.
Whether that meant getting betwixt her thighs—which seemed absurd considering how much he disliked her—or causing havoc for her and her destined MacLomain, he would see her suffer. Likely he would go with the latter because she’d never be able to handle the first option. Lying with him in his severely frustrated sexual state would require a strong, open-minded lass, not a stiff prude of her ilk. He would probably break her with one good, well-deserved thrust.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered when he became aroused at the thought of it. Why, when she drove him mad? When he had no idea what she even looked like? He stopped, braced a hand against a tree, hung his head, and tried envisioning anything that might get his untimely arousal under control. Typically magic could do away with this sort of thing, but that was no help right now.
“This is yer fault, lass,” he ground out, speaking to thin air. “’Tis bloody unnatural to have done this to a dragon.”
He conveniently set aside that he could have ignored her annoying voice and plowed each and every one of those lasses along the way. Mayhap. There was always the distinct possibility things would not have worked properly with her yapping like she did. Which, at this point, might be prudent to get things back under control.
Or so he thought until he sensed something.
Better yet, someone.
Ethyn.
“Och, nay, ye bloody MacLomain,” he fumed, his arousal at last doused. What did his cousin think he was doing here? Cray had the Viking sword, which meant this was his leg of the journey. His turn to protect King David.
His turn to find a Broun.
He shook his head at that last thought. After everything he’d been through with his beloved Maeve and his cousin Aidan, he wanted nothing more to do with romance. Laying with a lass, aye, that was crucial but nothing else. There was too much sadness involved. Too much damn heartbreak.
Whoever waited for him here would be told upfront. Intimacy was fine. Lots of it. But don’t expect more. Not just that, but whoever his supposed ‘destined’ Broun was, she would have to understand he was here on a mission first.
Madison.
Who was, or so it seemed based on his cousin’s presence here, destined for Ethyn? His poor kin. He had a sour life in front of him with that one. A prospect that should have tempered his anger, but did not. He was aggravated for no good reason and figured he might as well keep with it, so his cock behaved.
To that point, he made his way through the woodland to the colonial and pounded on the door.
Would she answer? Or was she cowering in fear knowing he was coming for her? Because her thoughts had suddenly gone very silent within his mind. Too silent. As if, mayhap, she was bracing for impact.
Good.
He would give it to her.
He went to pound on the door again only for Ethyn to open it first.
“Bloody hell, Cousin,” Ethyn exclaimed, filling the doorway. “You dinnae need to pound so hard.” He frowned at Cray’s attire and spoke telepathically. “Or show up dressed like that.”
A muttered chant under Ethyn’s breath later, Cray was dressed appropriately, in head to toe black. A color that well suited his mood in general. Something he suspected Ethyn’s magic sensed.
Magic that seemed to be working far better than his own.
His cousin appeared to be standing casually, but he knew a defensive stance when he saw it. Ethyn had no intention of letting him anywhere near Madison in his current state. While he could take his brethren easily enough, he decided it was best to play things differently for now. At least until he decided how he intended to go about dealing with Madison.
“’Twas but a simple knock, Cousin,” he assured, trying for a smile. “Now, let me in so that I might meet your new Broun.”
Best to put it like that, so Ethyn knew where he stood. He was no threat.
His cousin’s brow swept up, his distrust of Cray’s good behavior obvious. “My Broun?”
“Yes, your Broun,” came an all-too-eager voice from behind him. “Right, Ethyn?”
Cray tensed and narrowed his eyes. He tried to see past his cousin to no avail. While it might sound slightly different within his head, he knew that voice. Her voice.
“At last we meet,” he nearly growled but kept his tone civil if not strained. “Madison.” When Ethyn didn’t budge but continued eyeing him warily, he perked an eyebrow back. “See, all is well. I already know your Broun.”
“Aye, I know ye do,” Ethyn said into his mind. “And from what I’ve heard ye’ve grown quite frustrated with her. The way ye just knocked on this door didnae reassure me that ye feel any different now.”
He imagined it did not. What to say?
“’Twas just the rushed knock of someone eager to return to protecting his king.” He shrugged a shoulder, wishing to hell his cousin would step aside so he could finally lay eyes on the intrusive opinionated chit. “Surely ye ken I cannae linger long so ‘tis best I find the Broun meant for me, aye?”
Ethyn frowned over Cray’s shoulder when a car started behind him. “Well, then ye best get chasing after that vehicle.”
He frowned at the car as it took off down the drive. Two lasses were inside, but he couldn’t make them out. More alarmingly, he hadn’t seen or sensed them passing because they would have had to, however indirectly, from the side entrance.
“What the,” came Madison’s voice before he heard movement inside, then the creak of the side-door that was out of view. A door he should have heard the first time.
“Hey, guys,” she exclaimed, racing around the corner, waving her arms at the nearly gone car. “Stop!”
The car didn’t stop, but she certainly did when her eyes landed on him. He froze as well the moment he saw her. How was this possible? She looked nothing like how he envisioned she must. The annoying, uptight voice in his mind belonged to her? Truly?
It couldn’t be.
Yet as her startled, fight-or-flight gaze remained on him, he knew it was. By some trick of fate, the most annoying woman he’d ever encountered resided in a lass that made his poor cock come to full attention.
Taller than any lass he’d ever come across, she possessed impossibly long, slender, toned legs that would lock around his waist very nicely indeed. Her body was willowy with perfectly sculptured lithe curves, and her features were captivating.
He didn’t need her to remove her God-awful spectacles to know her thickly lashed, smoky blue-gray eyes were full of tightly leashed passion. There was an untapped sultriness in them that hinted at another woman entirely. A sensual creature just waiting to be let out of her cage. Or better yet, kept in another type of cage altogether. One she had no idea existed because she’d never, not once, been taken like she should be.
Then there were her lips.
Hell, he was surprised Ethyn wasn’t suffering the same issue as him having laid eyes on them first. But then his magic might have already seen to things. Because her sinfully plush pouty lips were most definitely made to fit around a man’s cock. A sizeable one at that.
“Dear Lord,” she gasped, appalled as she clearly caught his thoughts. “You don’t stop, do you?”
She shook her head and started walking backward, without doubt intending to flee into the house. Instead, she stumbled a few times, then plopped down in the snow.
Ethyn headed her way, but Cray made it to her first, chuckling all the while.
“I don’t think so!” In her attempt to get away from him, she scrambled back, all the while trying to get up only to fall again.
She wasn’t a very graceful dragon, was she?
“What,” she sputtered, clearly referring to his thoughts about her mouth pleasuring him as she shook her head. Her gaze flickered from the uncomfortably engorged but damn impressive arousal straining against his pants to his face. He was surprised smoke didn’t billow off her cheeks, they were so red when her horrified focus locked on his groin again. “That is so not going anywhere near me.” Her eyes were huge with disbelief when they returned to his face, the odd lenses of her glasses only magnifying them more. “And I’m not a dragon of all things!”
He’d sensed she didn’t know that about herself, but it had been the least of his concerns at the time. Every time, actually. His sole focus had been trying to bed a lass not enlighten Madison. So she had nobody to blame but herself that he hadn't revealed she was a dragon much sooner. But then why should he have? What kind of dragon didn’t know what they were?
“You are dragon,” he confirmed, already wondering what her arousal would smell like. What it would taste like. “And far more beddable than I anticipated.”
“Don’t even think about it,” she gasped, still scrambling back, her shiny blue-black hair dotted with snowy clumps. She shook her head and rambled on.
“I wouldn’t bed you if we had to single-handedly repopulate the planet with no less than four offspring every nineteen months.” She pressed the pad of her thumb against her forefinger, then ring finger and then the other two fingers as if ticking off a count in her head. Though obviously distressed by her continued rambling, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Even having six babies every twenty months or so for fifteen to twenty years depending on menopause, of course, would ensure a better survival rate.” She scrunched her nose. “But then that’s far too many pregnancies and labor. I’d never make it.”
What was she going on about? Twins? Triplets? How often? She had high hopes indeed, didn’t she? He was willing to bargain, though.
“No offspring,” he said firmly. “But, however impossible to believe considering your meddlesome nature, I will bed you before you settle for the MacLomain.” He nodded once. “You should count your blessings too. ‘Tis far more than you deserve.”
“You bloody well will not,” Ethyn said at the same time she exclaimed, “You are out of your sex-crazed arrogant filthy mind!”
“Mayhap,” he conceded, already looking forward to it a great deal. “But I promised you you’d pay for all the lasses denied me lately, so this seems the best way to make things right.”
Though Ethyn thought to come to her rescue, something Cray would allow when he was good and ready, it wouldn’t be right now. So before she scrambled back any further or accepted Ethyn’s polite hand, he caught her wrist and pulled her up. Only to realize when he finally touched her and the scent of her sweet earthy arousal hit his nostrils that Ethyn would be waiting quite a while.
This lass needed not one bedding by a fellow dragon but a few hundred to start.
