The rest of the trip went off without any attacks. Brand wasn’t entirely sure they had the aluminum foil to thank but more the fact that they soon entered more civilized areas with people watching.

The dragons might have launched some brazen attacks but thus far had done so only in secluded locations where discovery seemed unlikely.

Did he believe for a moment he was safe?

Nope, which meant Aimi wasn’t safe either because the damnable woman wouldn’t abandon him. She didn’t seem to grasp that being with him equaled danger. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. She understood, she just didn’t seem to care, and a part of her seemed to thrive on it. He could feel it through their link, the excitement, and the cold determination. Cute and ladylike on the outside didn’t mean shit. Inside lurked someone who wouldn’t hesitate to act.

So fucking sexy. Brandon never thought himself a guy to get turned on by a woman undaunted by anything, even violence, but that was before he’d met his moonbeam.

My moonbeam. And he planned to keep it that way, despite not knowing how that would work. He remained convinced he wasn’t good enough for her, not by a long shot. However, he also couldn’t bring himself to walk away. The selfish Mercer genes at play. It wasn’t just dragons who liked to hoard pretty things, especially valuable things they shouldn’t have.

The hotel they were booked to stay at was a gorgeous Marriott, considered a neutral zone by the Septs for this region. These neutral lodgings were scattered around the world, part of the treaties all dragons supposedly abided by to ensure they could vacation and deal with business interests. The only thing expected when dragons arrived onto another’s territory was that they notify the local family Sept of their arrival.

“Isn’t giving your enemy a copy of your itinerary counterproductive?” he’d asked when Aimi explained it to him.

“Dragons don’t kill dragons.” When he raised a brow, she added, “Often. We have to be severely provoked to move against our kind.”

“Provoked such as the attack on our plane?”

“Yes. I’ve never heard of anything so brazen. Most times, we deal with issues in a civilized manner.”

“What do you call civilized?”

A wide grin showed sharp white teeth—teeth that should be nibbling my skin. “Cooperate takeovers. Attacks on their stocks. Tabloids stories.”

‘But doesn’t that make your enemies madder and even more out for revenge?”

She’d blinked. “Well, yeah. That’s the whole point.”

Such a different world he’d entered. In the bayou, arguments were usually solved with a few punches, and for the really heinous shit, the bayou left no evidence—and neither did his aunt with her recently published cookbook, Trap ’Em and Eat ‘Em, the swamp guide to cooking critters without wasting any parts.”

It wasn’t selling enough to hit any bestseller lists, but Aunt Tanya became an instant celebrity among the Mercers and other swamp folk.

Brandon felt dirty and underdressed when Sam pulled under the canopy for the hotel. Before they piled out of the car, Natty turned in her seat.

“Here’s some cash and a credit card.” A silver card, not black as he would have expected.

“Where are you going?” Brandon asked.

“Back home,” Natty replied. “If the reds are massing for an assault, then we need to prepare.”

“I think you’re safe,” Aimi announced, slipping the flip-flops they’d bought at a gas station on her feet. “They’re after Brand. But they’re not getting him.”

Mine. The word practically sang between them, and the cold in him warmed with a strange iciness at odds with the emotion.

The shoes weren’t the only things they’d grabbed at the gas station. A prepaid cell phone that wouldn’t leave a trace, a T-shirt for him with a reptile sunning itself on the front with the caption, “Wanna pet my lizard?”

He and Aimi piled out of the car with the taped-cardboard back window and watched it pull away.

The front desk didn’t bat an eyelid at their strange outfits.

As for Aimi, she acted as if she wore designer duds and perfectly coiffed hair. “A suite please, with a balcony facing the front, top floor.” Paying cash meant she could sign in with any name she liked. She chose Mr. and Mrs. Silvergrace.

He didn’t say anything about it until they’d entered the elevator.

“Silvergrace? You do realize if you’re serious about claiming me, then you’ll have to take my name. Mercer.”

“If I’m serious?” Her lips curved. “You should know by now I mean what I say.”

He did know, and she needed to learn she wouldn’t be calling all the shots. “I think Mrs. Mercer has a nice ring to it. Don’t you?”

“It’s not a dragon name.”

“I’m not a dragon.” He penned her with his arms, letting the bulk of his body pin her against the wall as the numbers to the floors flashed. “I say you’ll take whatever name I tell you.”

“Are you giving me orders?” Her query emerged with a hint of irritation—but she also couldn’t hide arousal as he finally asserted his desires.

“I’m telling you how it’s going to be, moonbeam.” Before she could retort, the elevator stopped, and there was a ding as the doors slid open.

He stepped out and strode to one of the few doors on this level. The keycard switched the red light to green, and he entered.

Hot damn, now this is what I call swanky accommodations.

The room she’d booked proved lavish, so lavish that, when he stepped in, he almost turned right back around. These weren’t the kind of digs he usually stayed in.

I am definitely not the kind of guy who should be staying somewhere like this.

“Chin up, shoulders back. You do belong.”

“Was I thinking aloud again?” He’d been trying to control his mental yelling.

“It was your expression that gave it away. Actually, you’ve been good about keeping your thoughts to yourself. A shame, I miss the dirty ones.” She winked, and he couldn’t help it. The dirtiest thought crossed his mind involving her on her knees, lips wrapped around a certain part of him, her sultry expression peering upward.

Her lips rounded, and arousal flickered between them, a fire ready to consume. He took a step toward her, only to have her turn away as she kicked off the plastic flip-flops and sank her dirty toes into the carpet.

“I need a shower,” she declared.

Would a tongue bath work instead? He was so sure he’d kept that raunchy comment locked down, and yet she tossed him a saucy grin over her shoulder. “I’ll leave the door open in case you need me. Whatever you do, don’t answer the door. If someone knocks, ignore it.”

“Giving me orders again?”

“Just giving you chances to disobey. But do try not to get killed. I’d prefer to ravage, not avenge, you.”

“Ravage, right.” His saucy moonbeam took her pert ass out of sight, and he eyed the door out of the suite.

He could leave, right this instant. Open that door and just go. It would be best. Safer for Aimi, her family, everyone who came in contact with him. The attack on the road proved that the invasion on the plane wasn’t a one-time thing.

People are after me. And they didn’t care who they hurt.

All because they think I’m a dragon. Some kind of noble gold one. As if. The only things running through his veins were swamp sludge and the Mercer curse.

He took a step toward the door then another. His hand touched the knob, and he stopped.

Can I really abandon her like this? Without a word? It sounded cowardly, and yet, he knew if he told her of his departure, she’d convince him to stay because she wanted him.

No matter how he tried to convince her otherwise, the damned woman wanted to claim him.

He turned the knob and, through their bond, quite clearly heard, I will chase your ass down if you walk out that door, and I don’t care if I’m naked and wet while doing it.

Naked and wet. He might have gone blind and stupid for a second as his mind filled with that image.

Slam. Click. He deadbolted the door and, before he could finish his blink, found himself standing in the doorway for the bathroom.

Steam enveloped him, the warm, damp tendrils wrapping and teasing, obscuring even further Aimi’s naked body behind the frosted glass of the shower.

“I see you decided to stay.” She peeked around the edge of the enclosure. “Our family lawyer thanks you. We just had the ban lifted from our last little incident.”

“Dare I ask for what?”

“Let’s just say that some people have way too much imagination and not enough sense of humor when it comes to olive oil, goats, and rubber gloves.”

“You do realize it would be safer for you to let me go. I know how to disappear.”

“Not from me you can’t.” Again she glanced out at him, her features damp and hair slicked back. “That connection between us won’t break that easily and will only get stronger when I fully claim you.”

“If you claim me. I’m not the dragon you’re looking for.”

“No, you’re not. I was looking for someone malleable and simple-minded.” She shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, not hiding her body at all. It never failed to draw his eye. The beautiful slim lines of it with a hint of a curve at the hip, more at the breast, the toned length of her thigh. “I thought what I wanted was a puppet that I could pull out and play with at will. Then I found you.”

“So you settled for a low-born, desperate man with a price on his head to thwart your mother and get you out of the house.”

“All true, except for the part where I settled. Meeting you made me realize that what I want and what I need isn’t the same thing. I need to feel alive. I want a partner. With you, I get that and so much more.”

“Like possible eviction from your family if it turns out I’m not dragon. I’ve heard enough, moonbeam, in the last two days to know that dragons take their bloodlines super serious.”

“They do.” She stepped closer, eschewing the towel. “But do you know what I take more seriously?” Closer. Whispered. “Me. Because”—she gripped his shirt and lifted on tiptoe to growl—“the world revolves around me, and in my world, I deserve happiness. So get over yourself and get with the program.” She nipped his chin. He almost dropped to the floor to worship her.

Then he found his balls. Pretty words wouldn’t change who he was.

Bang. Bang. Bang. “Room service.”

“I didn’t order anything.” She frowned.

“Me either. Coming,” he hollered.

He ignored her hissed, “I told you not to open the door,” and headed to the portal. A peek through the hole showed a fisheye view of a hotel employee, a tray on wheels at his side.

“I think you have the wrong room,” he mentioned.

The guy wearing a collared shirt with a nametag pinned to it shrugged and replied, “Compliments of management and a courtesy offered to all our cherished higher-tier guests.”

So this was the kind of service that came with the big bucks. Cool. Especially since he was hungry.

The bathroom door closed behind Aimi, hiding her delectable shape. Brand unlocked the room door, opened it, and gestured for the guy to come in. The fellow no sooner walked past than his senses tingled.

Danger. He released the door and caught the guy in a headlock, his foot sweeping at ankles and taking him down. He pinned the guy with an arm across the throat and leaned down close, the cold within him pushing.

“Who sent you?”

“Hotel. Food.” Fingers clawed at his arm, and wide eyes pled for mercy. But the chill within him ignored it.

He lies.

Brand pressed harder on his windpipe. “Who. Sent. You?” The determined tone of his words froze the guy. He stopped struggling, and his features went flat. “I am but a cog in the machine that is the order of gold.”

“What is the order of gold?”

“It’s a silly sect that believes if a gold dragon returns so shall our freedom, and that we shall rule the world again.” Aimi was the one to reply, stepping from the bathroom, hints of moisture still clinging to her skin, most of her hidden—a shame—in a complimentary robe.

What a pity it hides her from my gaze. Then again, none should look upon her but me. His shiny thing, and no one else’s.

“Don’t tell me. I’m supposed to be this dragon?” He snorted and removed his arm from the guy. “You are all so fucking nuts and mistaken.”

“As the last golden dragon, you need to come with me,” insisted the guy, sitting up, unperturbed at all by how close he’d come to dying. “We are ready to fly by your side in the coming battle.”

Someone needed to chug some meds. “Get out and tell whoever you’re working with to stop their attempts. I’m not a gold dragon. I’m not a dragon at all.”

“The portents all say the return of the king is imminent. The order of gold only wishes to protect you.”

“Protect me by attacking?”

“I was not sent to attack but retrieve.”

“Alone?” Aimi frowned. “Why would they only send one minion? And a puny one at that?”

“Who says I’m alone?” There was a pause after he’d spoken. “Anytime now!” Brandon’s captive hollered.

Again, nothing happened.

Aimi snickered. “Did you think we chose this hotel by chance?”

“I thought you chose it because it’s some kind of neutral zone,” Brand replied.

“It is, but it’s also had its security overhauled recently with some really high-tech shit. Given I used the Silvergrace name, you can bet that immediately raised a flag in their system, putting them on high alert. Which means they took steps to ensure their guests, in this case, me, wouldn’t be disturbed. I’ll bet whoever else they sent got snared by security.”

“I am less than impressed.” Brand grabbed the fellow by the shirt and hauled him to his feet before giving him a little shake. “I think they missed a pretty obvious intruder.”

“More like allowed him through that we might question him.”

“Now that he’s answered, what are we supposed to do with him?”

“I am feeling a little peckish.” She eyed the guy with a feral smile.

The only man she’s eating is me. “I’m more keen on eating what’s under those domes than his stringy carcass.”

“Spoilsport. Then again, I did just shower. I suppose we’ll just have to hold on to him for security.”

“What about the backup he was expecting?”

“Probably already in custody. The Septs won’t be happy that this group thought to break the neutral accord. I expect they, and whichever Sept is behind them, will be punished.”

“I would never betray my brothers and sisters! Glory to the gold.” With that shout, the guy broke from Brand’s grasp and ran for the patio doors. It took but a moment for him to yank them open. Brand dashed after him, only to arrive in time to see their intruder dive off the balcony, arms spread.

He didn’t fall far as he hit some kind of invisible barrier that vaporized him.

Puff. Dust filtered down.

Brand gaped. “What the fuck just happened?”

“I told you the hotel had a good security system.”

“Security doesn’t just eliminate people in a second flat. That kind of technology doesn’t exist.” He turned around and saw her through the open patio door.

She snorted. “It has existed for years. It’s just not in use where the public knows about it.”

“You know about it.”

“Because I’m special. Now, are you going to stand around in those dirty duds all day, or are you going to make use of that shower?”

“I’m a little more concerned right now about the fact that we’ve got enemies who know where we are and keep coming after us.”

“Exciting, isn’t it? But given how catastrophically they just failed, I doubt we’ll see any more action while we’re at the hotel. So why don’t you shower while I see if I can wrangle us some clothes and information?”

“We have food.” He pointed to the tray.

“Which is more than likely drugged. I’ll order us something fresh. Unless you’d like to dine in.” The less-than-subtle finger dragged down the vee left by the robe.

Hell yes, I’d like to eat her. It just wasn’t the smart thing to do right now. Too many loose ends meant he had to decide on which to focus on first. As exciting as bedding Aimi would be, he couldn’t get distracted from his prime reason for being here.

His sister. The thought of her acted as a damper on his ardor, and so he went for that shower, but no matter how cold the water, his blood ran hot.

So hot.

And throbbing, mustn’t forget the throbbing.

It had been so long since he was a man, a real man with soft flesh, not scales, that now it felt strange to grip himself. To feel his turgid length. He could feel the calluses on his hands—working hands as the girls called them—as he stroked the length of himself.

The water in the shower and the soap made it easy to glide back and forth along the length. Squeezing. Pumping.

As his breath grew ragged, vivid fantasies rolled like a movie inside his head: Aimi on her back for him, her thighs spread, showing off the pink folds of her pussy.

He could still recall the titillating taste of her nipples in his mouth. The sound of her soft sighs and moans as he fingered her.

The reminder of how she’d climaxed, back arched, mouth open wide in a silent cry, the muscles of her channel gripping him so tight. His hips thrust as his hand stroked. Caught in his fantasy, he could almost imagine she was with him, encouraging him—Faster—welcoming him—Deeper.

Coming with him. Mark me.

How disappointing to open his eyes and realize he was alone.

But it was for the best. He still hadn’t changed his mind. Aimi deserved better than him. So much better. What could he offer her? He didn’t have a job or a home. Hell, he didn’t even have any clothes anymore to call his own.

What did he bring to the table?

Himself? Talk about her getting gypped.