She hadn’t replied to him after his crack about her not being able to shift, so Roc left her to her musings as they steadily flew north. The journey was at least half a day’s travel, even for him with his wing size, and he wasn’t as high as he’d have liked. Not with a passenger on board, and such a delicate little one at that. He didn’t want her to freeze at the higher altitudes, so he made sure to keep low, using the heat of his inner fire to warm the scales along his spine when he felt her small shivers.

She felt so good nestled there, he mused, concentrating on the feeling as his wings pumped strongly to take them home. She was so tiny and curvy curled up against him that he ached to feel her against him again when he was a man. But having her touch his scales in her slumber was almost as good. She’d started off curled into a tight ball, her hand tucked between two of his ridge scales in a death grip, but she’d slowly relaxed as he’d amped up the heat and had eventually fallen asleep not long ago.

Her hand had slipped from between the ridges to lie flat against the more sensitive scales over his back, her body unfurling like a flower in the sun until she lay along his spine, fast asleep. He felt her even breathing, the soft little murmurs she made every now and then making him long to be back home already, lying in bed with her in his arms.

His beautiful little mate.

A rumble of contentment and happiness escaped his chest as they reached the edges of the mountain range the wyverns called home. He beat his wings, climbing higher to reach his eyrie at the top of the tallest peak. Banking at the last minute, he swung into the wide mouth of the cave, his back claws touching down at the same instant he started to fold his beast back within himself. Twisting carefully mid-shift, he managed to get the curvy form of his sleeping mate into his arms as he strode toward his bedroom.

His lips curved into a soft smile as she nestled closer to him, her palm against his chest like it had been against the scales of his back. Trusting and soft… when she was asleep… but he knew she’d be pissed as all hell when she woke. A right little fire-cracker with a sharp tongue and a sharper temper.

He laid her down on his bed carefully, taking a moment to spread her fiery red hair around her head like a halo, and indulged himself in just looking at her. She was beautiful. Small for any species, she barely came up to his shoulder. Her frame was so delicately boned he felt like a brute just thinking about touching her. Like his big hands were too clumsy to be worthy of the honor. But somehow, she was his. His mate. His to touch, his to caress… his body tightened, cock hard and heavy in an instant… his to bring to pleasure, loving her until she cried out his name in ecstasy.

Reaching forward, he stroked a gentle finger down her cheek, noting the soft pout of her lips at his touch. Even in sleep, she was aware of him. Good. That would make it much easier to get her over her snit at being taken, brought up here and held captive in the age-old tradition of his kind.

There were no female wyverns, hadn’t been for generations. They always took their women from the clans around them to breed with, often returning them with child. Not many stayed—only those with a mate-bond, and sometimes not even then. Even the mate-bond couldn’t stand against a deep-rooted personal hatred.

At least she wasn’t a dragon. He curled a strand of her vibrant hair around his finger, delighting in the silkiness of it. She had purple eyes… a deep and mysterious violet that mesmerized him. They drew him in and made him want to learn more about her. Like who she was… shit. His eyes widened as he realized he didn’t even know her damn name…

Smooth move, Roc, he admonished himself and shook his head at his own stupidity. He’d kidnapped her and carried her off, and he hadn’t even stopped to ask what she was called.

Sighing, he pulled the heavy furs up around her to keep her warm. Without the inner fires of a wyvern, she would chill easily. He swept a gaze around his bedroom. Carved from the rock with his own claws, it was more cave than room with crude wooden furniture constructed of planks of wood lashed or nailed together.

He would get better things, he decided instantly, wincing as he saw it as she might. She was so pretty and delicate… she deserved nice things. Beautiful things, just like she was. But first, a fire. The furs would only keep her warm for so long and he wanted the room free of cold and damp before she woke.

I could keep her warm, the little voice in the back of his mind tempted, but he ignored it. Sure, he could slide in next to her and use his body heat to warm her and the bed through—wyverns ran the hottest of all the shifters, a necessity when they preferred to seek out icy wastes and remote mountain ranges—but he wouldn’t. She’d been pissed about him taking her, so finding him in bed next to her while she slept? Yeah, dick move. Real dick move.

Checking that the furs were tucked up nice and snug around her, he forced himself to stand up and, with one last look at his precious little mate, he left to gather supplies.

The fucking wyvern had kidnapped her and taken her gods-knew where.

Razzy stood on the edge of the cave mouth, looking down at the sheer drop below. Dragon-born, she had no fear of heights, but even so, they were a long way up. Well above the snow line given the white-covered peaks below her.

A chill wind whipped up from below to send a flurry of flakes billowing around her. She shivered, burrowing into the fur blanket she’d pulled off the bed to wrap around her shoulders. It was so fucking cold up here she was surprised anything could survive. Even a dragon, a creature born of fire, would struggle with the extreme temperature. Without the ability to call her dragon’s fire to warm herself, she was no better than a human up here.

A shape formed in the snow-heavy sky above her, and she squinted as the big form of a wyvern emerged. Her eyes narrowed and she studied him as he flew toward her. He was huge, built like the draconic equivalent of a tank with a big, wedge-shaped head, massive chest and shoulders and long, whip-like tail. Every inch of him was covered in heavy, armored scales and his wing tips and feet were tipped with vicious looking talons designed to rend and tear his prey.

Another shiver shook her as he spotted her and opened his mouth to reveal teeth just as vicious as the claws. The scales over his chest and throat glowed with his fire and for a moment she thought that was it, he’d already gotten fed up with her and decided to toast her to a crisp. Wyverns were famous for their tempers and not known for mental stability.

But she refused to take a step back or, worse, flee and show him just how scared she was. Instead, she lifted her head and looked at him in unspoken challenge. If he was going to roast her alive, he’d have to look her in the eye as he did it. At least with her dragon asleep and offering no protection it would be a quicker way to die than wasting away.

But he didn’t roast her. Instead, he opened his mouth and a gout of flame hit the rocks by her feet, driving her back from the perilous edge. Covering her head with her arm, she backed up until she hit the rock wall before it turned into the cavern proper.

Coughing and blinking because of the smoke, she opened her eyes just in time to catch the end of his shift. He strode toward her, his face tight with anger.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” he snarled, slamming a hand into the rock by her head, crowding her with his bigger body. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that edge is? It could have given way at any moment and you’d have fallen. To your death. Don’t you realize how far up we are?”

Her temper flared to match her fiery hair and she shoved a hand into his broad chest, trying to get some space between them. It didn’t help that heat of a very carnal type had spread through her as soon as she’d seen him stalking toward her. Anger and arousal fought for control within her. Damn her dragon instincts… the need and desire to find a worthy mate had obviously addled her in the head, making her susceptible to an arrogant, domineering asshole like this.

“Too fucking far up,” she snapped back. “What are you trying to do, freeze me to death? Take me home,” she demanded. “Now!”

Were she at home, such a display of anger would have sent lesser dragons scuttling for cover, but he just looked at her. Then grinned.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Asshole wyvern!” she hissed, pushing at him again.

His humor disappeared at her words and he stopped her struggles with the weight of his body pinning hers to the wall.

“I was playing nice,” he said, the deep gravel of his voice teasing along her senses as he spoke by her ear. “I’d advise you to let me. You won’t like the alternative.”

She’d frozen, her hands splayed over his broad chest in a futile attempt to try and control the situation. It hadn’t worked. He’d come out of the shift shirtless, his pants obviously spelled against the change, and as soon as her fingertips had brushed his skin, she’d been lost. Arousal overtook her anger as everything feminine in her sat up and took notice. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the reaction, but he must have sensed it, pulling back to look down at her.

Strong fingers hooked under her chin and made her look up. But she wouldn’t meet his eyes, knowing what he’d read there and choosing to keep them down instead.

“You can hide all you like, my sweet,” he murmured, amusement in his voice. “But I can smell your need… your arousal.”

“You’re hot.” She shrugged one shoulder. “So what? Means nothing.”

He tilted her head up a little more. “Oh, I think you’ll find it means everything,” he murmured back and claimed her lips again.

Rather than the rough, dominant kiss she’d expected, his lips whispered over hers. Forward and back, gentle as though he were concentrating on learning the shape and texture of her mouth. It was so unexpected that it stole under her defenses again and before she knew it, she found herself leaning into him, breathlessly kissing him back.

He growled low in his throat and turned them, leaning back against the cold wall to pull her into him. His hands stole under the fur wrapped around her, the gap letting in the cold air until he pulled her flush against his hot, literally hot, body.

She moaned and pressed into him, trying to absorb the heat like a lizard baking in the sun. A hand sliding into her hair again, he nipped at her lower lip, and she gasped. As soon as she did, he slid his tongue past her lips to tangle with hers in an erotic slip-slide that had her clutching at his broad shoulders.

Heat rolled through her, her body aching for his as she pressed and rubbed against him, all her inhibitions lost as the simmer in her veins grew wilder. She ached for him… needed him like she’d never needed a man before.

He broke away with a rumble of pleasure and looked down at her.

“I never got your name, little one.” He smiled, the expression transforming his handsome features into something so stunning it took her breath away.

“It’s Razz…alyn,” she added quickly, giving him the real full name she rarely used. He was a wyvern. She wasn’t sure he’d be happy about a dragoness in his eyrie.

“Razzalyn. It’s a beautiful name.” He smiled again, reaching for her hand from under the fur wrap and bringing it to his lips. “I’m Roc.”

She hid her start of surprise under a soft blush and demure look down.

Holy shit… she hadn’t gotten herself kidnapped by just any wyvern but the most dangerous among them.

Roc—the king the wyverns said they didn’t have.