Brother of Ash and Fire: Royal Dragon Romance Page 22

  “Now, dance for me, sweetheart.” Rurik’s green eyes met hers, and she seemed to spiral into them. Every worry, every self-conscious thought she’d ever had seemed to fade into the back of her mind.

  “Dance for me. Show me your heart’s desire.” The words were his, but he hadn’t spoken them. It was as though she’d heard the words inside her head. An irresistible compulsion to do what he said came over her, almost as though she was drunk—only on words instead of alcohol.

  Charlotte rolled her hips, feeling the beat of the music and letting it run through her blood like a current. She moved, spun, leaned against the bars and threw her head back, sending her hair in a cascade as she gave in to the wild part of herself. A part she’d always denied, ignored, or repressed.

  All the while he watched, satisfied, the dragon with dark brown hair and bewitching eyes. The green of his eyes was intense like emeralds. His lips were parted, and his hands were white-knuckled on the bars. Was he restraining himself? Holding himself back? That only made Charlotte bolder, wilder. Dimly, she was aware that she was being very reckless, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

  I’m playing with fire. She just prayed she wouldn’t get burned.

  20

  Stars would fall to their knees at his compelling vision. - Rainer Maria Rilke

  “Come in with me,” she said, knowing he would hear her despite the pounding music. A dragon’s hearing was keener than any human’s.

  They stared at each other, the bass of the music making her heart thud against her ribs. His gaze pulled a woman in and drowned her with its promise of dark, delicious things. Charlotte could feel every cell in her body humming with sexual tension. Would he join her? Would he touch her again in a way that made her forget her very name?

  Please…please make me forget everything but you. It was dangerous, but she wanted it, wanted to lose herself in this moment, lose herself in him.

  Rurik flung the cage door open and entered, clanging it shut behind him. She swallowed hard, realizing that what she’d just asked had come true. She was trapped in a cage with a dragon—ancient, powerful, accountable to none but themselves—and this one was making her legs shake as he kept looking at her as though he wanted to eat her.

  He spun her around to face away from him. She gripped the bars, bracing herself. He pressed his body against hers from behind and nuzzled her neck. She moaned as he began to kiss her throat and bare shoulder. It was as though he knew just where her sensitive spots were, the ones that electrified her entire body. They still swayed to the music, but everything had changed. She wasn’t focused on capturing him, not now—she could barely think straight. All she wanted was to stay close to him, to keep touching him wherever she could. She needed to feel his body caging hers and his mouth and hands on her body. She’d heard people talk about animal magnetism, but holy shit, this was beyond that.

  They weren’t dancing anymore—they were grinding against each other, the sensual movements almost too much to bear. She was so close to danger, so close to the one thing she knew she couldn’t let happen.

  I don’t care. I should…but I don’t. I want him…

  His right hand touched her right knee, sliding up her leg beneath her skirt. When he reached her panties, he brushed a fingertip along her satin-covered slit. She whimpered at the explosive reaction her body had at that simple caress. Rurik bit her earlobe, and a zing of pleasure shot through her body. She knew people were all around them, probably watching them, and she couldn’t find it in her to care, not when he was making her feel so wild, so out of control in the best possible way.

  “Tell me your name,” he whispered in her ear.

  She struggled to focus. “Charlotte…” She wouldn’t tell him her last name. Even through the fog of her desire, she knew that would be a mistake.

  “Charlotte.” Her name rolled off his tongue in that decadent accent, and she shivered. “My name is Rurik.” He flicked his tongue into the shell of her ear, sending a new bolt of arousal through her.

  “I’m going to kiss you now, little one,” he warned, and she nodded, wanting, needing his mouth on hers. It didn’t matter that it was breaking her promise or that she knew her brothers would kill her for kissing a dragon. She had to kiss him. Pheromones be damned. Something inside her demanded it with a force that she couldn’t stop. He turned her around to face him, chest to chest, their bodies still pressed tight together. The bars of the cage dug into her back, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was this slow, delicious burning moment leading up to his kiss.

  He lowered his head and their lips brushed, and then he kissed her. Hard. It was the kind of kiss that made a rational, sensible person like Charlotte lose her mind. It was a kiss out of her darkest fantasies. He moved his lips over hers with a hint of roughness that kept her on her toes, as though at any moment he could take things to another level. It left her dancing on a razor’s edge of fear and excitement. He curled her hair in his hand, fisting the strands while he held her captive. His other hand gripped her hip, his firm hold keeping her right where she was. A dragon’s prisoner.

  The music around them changed from one song to another, and then another, and yet neither she nor Rurik wanted to come up for air.

  It was strange, but the more he kissed her, the more she had this funny feeling that she could hear whispers—soft, dark growling sounds deep inside her head. Like a man murmuring erotic words to her, but she couldn’t explain how she was hearing it. It must have been her imagination. Were all kisses supposed to be like this? Her previous boyfriends had never made her feel like she was on the verge of such sweet madness.

  Their kiss finally broke apart, and he pressed his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, hands gripping his shoulders as she tried to slow her racing heart. His muscles were taut beneath her palms, and she could feel the heat radiating off him. It didn’t soothe the aching need her body now had for him. For the first time in her life, she understood what her friends had joked about when they’d talked about wanting a man so much they were ready to beg for it. She was ready to beg.

  “Club’s going to close soon,” he said in a low rumble.

  “What?” She was distracted by his intimate embrace and how much she didn’t want this moment to end. His body was warm, and the leather of his jacket smelled so good. She wanted to bury herself against him, rub her cheek against his chest like a cat in heat. Her lips felt bruised, swollen from his kisses, and she licked them.

  “We’ve been at this for over an hour, little one. I would like to continue, but I must close down the club.” A surprisingly rueful smile twisted his lips.

  Reality crashed down around her. An hour? She had spent an hour making out with a dragon shifter? A dragon she knew was dangerous. The dragon she’d come to capture… God, no wonder her brothers wouldn’t let her become a hunter. She’d walked right into the lion’s den—er…dragon’s lair—and had all but jumped his bones. Mortification heated her face as she tried to shake the lingering flames of desire that his kisses had left burning within her.

  “I should go.” She released his shoulders and looked away, but his green eyes kept drawing her focus back to them. She raised a hand to her kiss-swollen lips and almost smiled but had to shake herself to remember that this was dangerous. She shouldn’t have gone this far.

  He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

  “Will you wait for me? After I close the club we can go to dinner.” The earnest desire in his words made her hesitate. Could she stay near him and not lose her head again?

  “Please, my little rose, do not make me beg.” He winked at her, and the harsh lines of his scarred face seemed to fade into boyish playfulness.

  “Eat? It’s after midnight!” she said, half laughing.

  “An early breakfast then.”

  She knew the logical thing to do was to thank him for the amazing evening and leave—but she couldn’t.

  If I can keep control over my hormones, I can learn more about him. Tha
t’s what a smart hunter would do, right?

  She needed to learn his weaknesses if she was going to figure out a safe way to inject him with the serum and call the Brotherhood to come and get him. Rurik was the key to one of their biggest crises at the moment. He feathered another kiss over her lips, and the last of her resistance crumbled.

  “An early breakfast it is.” She grinned up at him foolishly. Maybe it was okay to play the bad girl and do something wild and reckless. Just once.

  “Excellent. Come with me.” He led her from the cage to the back of the bar and sat her down on a stool, then waved over the bartender. “Victor, please keep this lovely woman company while I close up.”

  The bartender spoke to Rurik in Russian, and Rurik responded with a chuckle and nodded. Victor handed Charlotte a fresh glass of wine. Rurik leaned in close and playfully tugged a lock of her hair before he walked through the club’s dwindling crowd. He disappeared through the back door she’d spied earlier.

  “My boss likes you,” the bartender said. His accent was heavy, but his English was decent.

  She took a deep sip of her wine. “You think so?”

  The bartender chuckled. “He danced in a cage with you. He never does that with other girls.”

  Charlotte wasn’t sure why that mattered, but God, it had been so hot, so fucking hot. She was wet just thinking about it. Clamping her thighs together, she tried not to think about what it said about her that a simple make-out session had gotten to her like that. But then, there had been nothing simple about making out with Rurik.

  She finished her wine and watched the club close down, the bouncers escorting the last of the partiers out and locking up. The lights dimmed, and the fog cleared from the floors. Only then did Rurik reemerge through the back door. He still wore his black-and-red motorcycle jacket, but he held two black helmets and came over to her.

  “Ready?”

  “We’re not taking a car?” she asked as she took one of the helmets from him.

  “I do not take my car to the club. I ride my motorcycle.” He held out a hand. She didn’t have to go with him—she could see it in his eyes—but there was a longing there, a need that matched her own. She took a deep breath and placed her hand in his.

  The bartender handed Charlotte her purse, and she let Rurik lead her out onto the street. A sleek black motorcycle with dark green trim was parked on the curb. He stopped and turned to her.

  He helped her put the helmet on, then secured his own. He straddled the bike and started the engine. Rain began to fall around them, misting the streets that were still warm from traffic. Charlotte shivered, glad she’d brought a coat. She pulled it on, slid onto the back seat behind Rurik, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Hold on tight, little one. I’ll see you are dry and warm as soon as I can.” He patted her hands and then gunned the engine. The motorcycle shot forward as they sped into the brightly lit Moscow streets. She watched the world around her blur as Rurik guided his bike into the traffic. Rain made the lights from the cars seem like foggy halos. He was fearless, flawless, and sexy as hell. She never thought she’d have a thing for motorcycles, but tonight she totally did.

  There was something magical about the way they had to work together, their bodies leaning in the same direction as he took sweeping curves for every turn. She felt connected to him in a way she hadn’t expected. They were one being while they rode together, a single blur on the streets of Moscow. For the first time in her life she felt bonded to another person. A person who was a danger to humans, a person she had every intention of betraying at some point. Charlotte swallowed down the uncomfortable burn in her throat just thinking about what had to be done. But not right now. Not yet. Besides, nobody was going to hurt him; all they needed was information.

  Rurik finally stopped in front of an expensive-looking glass building and helped her off.

  A young man in a valet’s uniform rushed out. Rurik tossed him the keys before he took off his helmet. Charlotte removed her own, and the young man collected both.

  She gazed up at the bright lights of the beautiful glass exterior. It looked more like a high-end apartment building. “This doesn’t look like a restaurant.”

  “That’s because it isn’t. Nothing good is open this time of the morning. This is where I live.”

  “Here?” She quelled the flutter of nerves at the thought of going up to his apartment and focused instead on the fact that the building was classy, refined, and didn’t match the gritty biker vibe Rurik put off. Yet this was exactly the opportunity she needed. He would feel safe at his own home and lower his guard. If she could get invited over tomorrow, after she had the serum with her…

  He laughed and took her hand, the moment so natural that she didn’t pull away. “Of course. Did you think I would live somewhere else?”

  Blushing, she shrugged. “I don’t honestly know. This building is beautiful.” She marveled at how well their hands fit together and how warm his palm was. They walked through the lobby, and Rurik took her to a set of gold elevator doors. Once inside, he removed a black keycard from his wallet and swiped it through a scanner next to the buttons.

  “I thought we were getting breakfast?” she asked.

  “We are. In my apartment.” He thumbed the button for the tenth floor, and the elevator doors closed.

  She started to object. She’d agreed to food, nothing else. “But—”

  “Don’t tell me you are afraid? You are safe enough with me.” A mischievous twinkle in his eyes sent her pulse racing.

  “I’m not afraid, but you changed things. You can’t do that.” She protested a little, but not too much, letting him feel that he was the one who was safe, the one in charge. So far so good…

  He curled an arm around her waist and tugged her close. “Of course I can. I’m the one in control.” She pressed her palms on his chest in an effort to either push him away or touch him. She wasn’t really sure.

  “Rurik…”

  He grinned. “I love it when you say my name.” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “And you will say my name many times before this night is over.”

  That should have scared her, but it didn’t. From the moment she’d met him, she hadn’t been afraid of the dragon side of him—she was more afraid of the man, of how much he affected her. Yet she wasn’t able to turn away. The pull between them, at least for her, was so strong that she stared at him, mesmerized, unable to speak. He didn’t seem to want to say anything either. He held her close, their bodies touching, their faces inches apart.

  Would it be so bad to lean in for a kiss? Just one more? Her resistance wavered, and she was giving in—

  The elevator doors slid open with a chime.

  “My floor,” he announced. The words were simple and direct enough, yet she heard the offer in his voice, the choice of getting off with him or staying inside the safety of the elevator.

  “For the record,” she began, blushing, “I do not go home with guys…like ever.” She bit her lip when he smiled at her.

  “Then I’m honored to be the first, my little rose.” He towered over her and stole a quick, hard kiss. There was only one door in the hallway on the floor, and Rurik led her to it. He turned the knob without using a key or keycard.

  “You don’t lock it?”

  Rurik gave a shrug of one shoulder. “Unnecessary. I own the floor.”

  As they stepped inside, Charlotte gaped. The rooms had high ceilings and modern furnishings. It was a lot like a five-star hotel. There were glass chandeliers and dark leather couches. It was a mixture of various forms of masculine luxury, right down to the blue diamond fireplace against the interior wall of the living room. The windows were floor to ceiling, giving the impression that she could take a leap out of the building and fly. Which was not a good thing, given that they were ten floors up. About nine floors too many for her liking. They got closer to the windows as he took her to the kitchen, and Charlotte’s breathing kicked up.

  “What’s
wrong?” he asked, reading her panic.

  “I have a thing about heights.” She nodded at the oversized windows.

  His dark chuckle distracted her from her fear momentarily. “Afraid of heights? Whatever will I do with you?” He winked and then picked up a slim black remote from the granite countertop of the kitchen, aiming it at the nearest windows. Black screens came down, turning the windows into walls, at least as far as the eyes were concerned. Charlotte’s muscles, which had tensed to steel cords, began to relax.

  “Better?” Rurik asked.

  “Much.”

  “Have a seat. I’ll order some food.” He nodded to the table. She sat down, kicking off her heels. She rubbed her sore feet and watched him pull his cell phone out of his back pocket. He dialed a number and spoke rapidly, then hung up and turned to her.

  “Food will be here soon. Would you like another drink?”

  Why not? She was still feeling a bit buzzed from the club, and she didn’t want that relaxed feeling to go away just yet.

  “Sure.” She pointed and flexed her toes and blushed when she realized he was watching her. “I’m not used to wearing heels.” In the lab, she’d always worn sneakers.

  “I never understand how you females squeeze into those dresses or stand in those shoes, but I certainly won’t complain because the end result is…” He waved a hand at her body, his eyes heating with open appreciation.

  She raised a brow, wondering if he’d finish that sentence. He didn’t, but the heat in his eyes assured her that he was more than pleased with her appearance. Rather than be embarrassed, she felt emboldened and sexy. Was this how a woman was supposed to feel around a man she liked? He made her feel beautiful and attractive, and she loved it.

  “So if you do not go home with men like this, then why me?” Rurik poured a glass of wine for her and a glass of bourbon for himself. He watched her take a sip before he raised his own glass to his lips. Charlotte swallowed, unsure what to say. The truth was more complicated than she cared to admit.