CHAPTER THREE
Ciara called upon every yoga class and meditation she’d ever done in her life to calm herself and not strangle the bejeesus out of this guy. Dragon…guy.
For a minute, she’d let her emotions get the better of her. She knew better than that. Emotional outbursts were for sissies, and were not tolerated in her home. Rather her mother’s home.
No one got to her. Not anymore.
In a matter of minutes, this man, dragon, whatever he was, had taken her through a gambit of emotions from fear to lust to anger to lust and back again.
Enough of that.
Ciara had never met a person she couldn’t calm down and get to see a dire situation in a new light. It was her greatest skill. The only way she could do that was to remain calm herself.
But, this guy wasn’t a guy at all. Was he even a human? Would sensible talk work on a shape-shifting dragon? She’d have to up her game to get him to see her way and let her go.
He was being completely unreasonable about the whole relic thing. That was an emotional trigger point for him. Talking to him about that wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
What he had responded to was her accidental flirting. Some of the things that had come out of her mouth tonight, whew. If she could only talk like that to Wes. They’d be married and on a permanent honeymoon.
Lust was the right emotion, but she sucked at flirting on purpose. It was weird and awkward every time. She got too far inside her own head wondering if the guy was thinking she sounded completely ridiculous.
She felt ridiculous trying to come on to men most of the time. Sure, they all wanted a good roll in the hay. But, with a chubby girl like her?
She and the dragon man had already rolled in the hay. Literally. He seemed to like it. Okay then, she’d channel her inner Marilyn Monroe and Happy Birthday, Mr. President him.
God, she was going to look absurd.
Ciara licked her lips and his eyes went straight to her mouth. Sweet. That gave her the confidence boost she needed to do this seduction thing. She took a step closer and straightened her back, hoping her boobs would continue the distraction.
“What are you doing, witch?” His voice was a low purr, not a question.
“Please, call me Ciara.” She walked right into his personal space and placed a finger on his shirt, fiddling with his button. “I don’t even know your name.”
She said it in her best breathy voice, which she didn’t even have to fake.
He didn’t step away or remove her hand. That was a good sign. “I am Jakob Zeleny, Wyvern of the green dragon warriors.”
There was that word again. Did it mean leader? “Sounds important.”
She walked her fingers further up his shirt. She was so close to touching his skin she could taste it. This was the worst plan ever. Warmth filled the room, swirling around them.
The fireplace on the other wall burst to life filling the space with light and heat. Uh, automatic timer?
“I’ve never met a witch who had command of more than one element. Is that why you stole the relic, you think it will give you power over earth as well?”
If she played along with this witchcraft baloney, maybe she’d learn something to help her get out of this situation. “What would I do with power over earth? Make mud pies?”
“Or mud baths.” His voice had dropped making that statement sound like a very naughty invitation.
The skin she was so close to touching smelled of earth. Not in grimy way, but like a fresh field newly sown, where green things could grow. Which, was a really strange thought for her. She was a city girl, the only fields she'd ever seen were on TV, at golf courses and around event centers.
What was her brain doing thinking about what he smelled like anyway? She needed to focus. On getting the hell out of here, not on if that spot right below his chin would taste as delicious as she thought it would.
No no no. Mind, out of gutter, now. Back to the work at hand.
“Mud baths, huh? Sounds dirty.” Whoops. Her voice had gone all husky and her fingers had walked their way up his shirt to the open button.
“Mmm-hmm.” He rumbled. Lust laced every syllable he spoke. “I’d love to see you naked and covered in mud.”
This guy was a sicko, or she was, because she was completely turned on by the idea of rolling around naked in the mud with him.
“Well, maybe we can do that after you take me home.” What was she saying? At least she'd gotten half of it right with the taking her home part. God, she must have Stockholm Syndrome already. She was having a hard time concentrating on her plan to seduce him into doing what she wanted, while standing this close to him and feeling the heat pouring off of his body. Being kidnapped and held hostage was not supposed to make one want to strip her assailant of all of his clothes, and lick him from nose to toes.
He ran the backs of his knuckles across her shoulder and down her arm, creating a trail of goosebumps that sprang up in his wake. His hand slipped off of her elbow and continued down to land on her waist.
Whoo boy. She would not acknowledge the tingles that sent down her spine and between her legs.
“I’ll be happy to take you home as soon as you return the relic.” He made that sound like the best idea ever. She almost wished she had his stupid relic, just so she could give it to him and then have her way with him.
She was trying to avoid the topic of the damn thing, and normally it was a piece of pie to keep anyone away from whatever had them agitated.
The problem was, he had her completely worked up. God, she hoped she was having at least the same affect in him. Probably not. Time to take it up another notch.
“I can think of so many more fun things for us to do than argue.” Like that mud bath he'd mentioned.
The hand at her waist snaked along to her back and hugged her to him so that she could feel every bit of him against every bit of her. Unless that was a relic in his pocket, there was a whole lot of him that her girly bits would sure like to get to know.
“Yes, luscious witch, why don't we see where this can go?” He stared down into her eyes and the sparkle he dazzled her with kept her from noticing that he was slowly backing her toward the bed until her butt hit the footboard.
Now wait just a damn minute. Just who was seducing who here?
Her hand, fully of its own accord, went up and touched his cheek. The scruff there that scratched against her hand would feel even better between her legs. He was so damn good-looking. Even more handsome than Wesley.
At least Wes was actually attracted to her. Probably. This guy, she doubted if he truly wanted her at all. He just wanted the thing she had supposedly stolen from him. So, what the hell was she doing right now?
She needed a new plan. Because, this one was definitely not working.
Plan A was getting her into more trouble.
Plan B would have a whole lot more of her getting the hell out of here.
She would lie her way out of this. Convince him she would do what he wanted and simply get him to return her. Yeah.
“Why don't you show me to a phone, so I can call home and have them retrieve your relic.” Her voice would sound a whole lot more calm, like she wanted it to, if her breathing wasn't so rapid and her heart wasn't going kaboom kaboom kaboom.
Those sexy sleepy eyes of Jakob's sparkled. “A thief, and now a liar too.”
Dammit. She knew she was a crappy liar. But, he wasn't supposed to know that. “I'm neither.”
Her tone was a little less offended than she'd tried to make it.
“Remember I told you Dragons can scent emotions. That includes desire, and lies. Your defenses are weakening. Or that's the first lie you've told me.”
There went Plan B to shit.
“It is not, I lied when I said a mud bath sounded like fun.”
He chuckled. “You never said that. But, I like that you thought it, and you were turned on by that thought.”
Wait, did he say he could smell desire? She would be a liar if she tried to tell herself she hadn't felt any of that for him.
She didn't desire this man, she wanted Wesley Alexander. Yeah, dammit.
Jakob's head tilted slightly to the side and he raised an eyebrow. “What kind of scheme are you cooking up in that pretty little head of yours? The scent of deceit is pouring out of you.”
“I… I… I'm not cooking up anything except how the hell to get out of here and away from you.” She put her hands against his chest and pushed. He didn't move even a little bit.
“That delicious musky flavor coming from your sex says otherwise.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips ever so gently across hers.
She should bite him, she should kick and scream, she shouldn't open her mouth and whimper, wanting so much more.
“Mmm.” His tongue dipped into her mouth teasing her. “You may smell like lies, but you taste of chocolate and champagne.”
He mumbled the words against her, sending all kinds of tingles across her lips.
“Cake.” Her tongue darted out, trying to entice him. This one little kiss was the most action she'd gotten in months. Okay, that was another lie that he could probably smell, because it had been years.
Had she forgotten how good kisses were? Because this was the simplest kiss, sweet and innocent, and she was ready to melt into a puddle on the floor.
“Cake?” He said the word, and then tasted her again.
“Chocolate wedding cake.” All wedding cake should be chocolate, especially if it had a guy like this enjoying the taste of her.
This was exactly what she'd imagined her first kiss with Wes would be like. Kind of. Her fantasies were quite a bit dirtier than this. Jakob's hold on her waist was possessive, but his kiss was not. This position she'd gotten herself into meant he could pretty much do as he liked at the moment.
But he wasn't doing anything more than tempting her.
He nibbled at the corner of her mouth and it dawned on her that he was waiting for her permission, for her to tell him that this was what she wanted.
What a strange thing for kidnapper to do.
What a strange thing for kidnappee to want.
She did want it, him. That was some long-buried emotions, unfulfilled needs, talking. They needed to shut the hell up. They didn't get to talk.
“Jakob, stop.”
He froze, mid nibble.
“We hardly know each other, and besides I have a boyfriend.” That was only a partial lie, hardly even a white one, because she did have a date and that was halfway to boyfriend.
Jakob stiffened, released her, and stepped away. “Ah, I see.”
He did? “Oh, good. So, no more kissing or…”
If he hadn't smelled that lie, it must be true. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Ciara.
“No, that is your choice. You may choose torture instead of seduction.” Jakob crossed the room and yanked the door open.
“Torture?” Was that her voice that squeaked like that?
“Yes, witch.” Every other time he'd called her a witch, it hadn't sounded like an insult. “I had thought to seduce the relic from you. But if you prefer lies over my kisses, you may have it that way.”
“Hey, I was the one seducing you.” She meant to shout that, girl power style. Unfortunately, that squeak in her voice was still there.
“I suggest you think long and hard about telling me exactly where you and your cohorts have hidden the relic. We'll pick this up again in this evening.” He walked out the door, shut it behind him, and Ciara heard the click of a lock.
She ran across the room and yanked on the door handle, then pounded against the door. “You don't have to get all butt hurt, just because I think you're a cruddy kisser.” Hopefully the big wooden door between them would block the scent of that little fib.
Ciara glanced around the room looking for any other way out. There were two large windows on either side of the bed, and even if she did have to wait until evening it wouldn't be long. The sun was already sinking into late afternoon, even though it felt like morning to her.
She refused to be a damsel in distress. There had to be a way out of here. She slid one of the windows up and immediately talked herself out of trying to jump down. She'd break both of her legs, maybe a hip, probably a couple ribs, her arm, and her neck if she tried to jump from here.
The bed in the room was at least a king, which meant really big sheets. Did that thing people did in the movies where they tied sheets together and climbed out of the window actually work? She was going to find out, or die trying. Hopefully not the die trying part.
She threw back the covers and yanked at the top sheet. Geez, these had to be 5000 thread count.
She was kind of tired. Jet-lag, dragon-lag, which ever. The time change and no sleep was taking its toll on her. Maybe just a little nap before she tried to escape.
A quiet knock sounded at the door. Maybe her dumbass dragon had come back to apologize. Or maybe he'd come back to torture her like he promised. She picked up the lamp from the bedside table and held it like a baseball bat. The door creaked open and a plump older woman stuck her face into the room.
“Dobry den. I am Mrs. Bohacek. Jakob asked me to come up and make sure you were comfortable.”
“He did? Wait, are you a dragon too?” Ciara hefted the lamp slightly higher, not that she could actually knock this adorable grandmother across the head with it. But grandma didn't need to know that.
“Ha. No, kiddo. I’m not.” She walked into the room carrying a tray with a mug and some sort of cookies on it in one hand, and had green flowing material draped over the other arm. She kicked the door shut with her foot ruining any plan Ciara might have had to run out.
“Then what are you?” Ciara wasn't quite ready to set down her baseball bat lamp weapon yet.
Mrs. Bohacek crossed the room and set the fabric on the bed and the tray with the snack on the table. “I'm a lot of things. A little bit nanny, a goddess, a little bit witch.” She held out her hand for the lamp and Ciara handed it over.
She was never going to use it anyway. “You're a witch?”
“I am, same as you.” Mrs. Bohacek returned the lamp to its place on the bedside table, then held out the green material, which turned out to be a dress, to Ciara.
“I'm a nice person, really.” Ciara took the dress from her and found it insanely soft to the touch.
“Most witches are. I've only ever known one that I didn't get along with. But, whoever really gets along with their siblings. Rivalry and all that, you know.”
“I don't understand why you to think I'm a witch. If I had magical powers it would make my job a heck of a lot easier.”
“Doesn't it?”
“I can’t make things fly across the room or magically appear.” She could think of at least half a dozen missing grooms that she would have liked to make magically disappear though.
Mrs. Bohacek twirled her fingers indicating that Ciara should turn around so she could undo the zipper on the formal gown she had on. The dress, Mrs. Bohacek brought did look a hell of a lot more comfortable than the suck-you-in-until-you-can’t-breath shape wear she had on.
“That's the kind of magic in the movies. Mine and yours is something much more… useful.”
Ciara breathed a sigh of relief as the zipper came down on her gown. Before she could even feel weird about getting undressed in front of this woman, she was out of her uncomfortable undergarments and into the softest dress in the universe. What in the world was this thing made out of?
She felt more like she was wearing pajamas than a pretty frock.
“It's part of why Jakob is so attracted to you.” Mrs. Bohacek picked up the clothes from the floor, folded them, and set them on a chair.
“He's not attracted to me. He thinks I'm a thief and a liar.”
The fire in the fireplace snapped, crackled, and threw sparks out into the room, singeing the carpet.
Ciara watched wide-eyed as Mrs. Bohacek flicked her wrist and put out the flames with the tiniest of rainstorms, then swished her hand again and a hot wind dried the carpet.
“Tomorrow, maybe we will have some time to help you get those emotions –”
“Under control.” That was the same line her mother had been railing at her for years. But, she hadn't had some sort of an outburst, or cried, or even frowned for that matter.
“I was going to say out. Keep suppressing them the way you have been and you’ll burn the whole villa down. Your magic is more powerful around Jakob.”
Was she inferring that the fire had something to do with Ciara’s emotions? This was all way too weird and wasn't getting her any closer to escaping.
“Never mind.” Back to the escape plan. Ciara hoped the connection she already felt with this woman would work to her advantage. “Mrs. Bohacek, I really need to get out of here. I need to get home.”
“You don't want to do that.”
“I do, I really really do.”
Mrs. Bohacek muttered something under her breath which Ciara only caught part of. Something about all they'd done to get these two together. She shrugged and tipped her head to the side. “It might be fun to see Jakob chase his mate across the countryside. As long as he doesn’t take too long about claiming you.”
What the heck was this beautiful grandma lady talking about? “I don't understand what you're talking about.”
Mrs. Bohacek crossed the room and opened the door, waiting for Ciara to follow her. Awesome. She was going to help.
Ciara tiptoed down the stairs across a cold tiled hallway and into a warm and inviting kitchen. This must be the back door. But, she didn't see any way out from here. The only door Mrs. Bohacek opened was the refrigerator. She got out a butter dish and a jar of jelly and set them on the counter. Then she grabbed a loaf of bread, and proceeded to make toast. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Or maybe hot tea if you're going sleep tonight.”
Mrs. Bohacek stared at Ciara then grabbed some K cups out of a drawer along with two mugs. “Coffee it is then.”
“Are you going to help me get out of here, or not?”
“Or not. It can be dangerous around here in the dark, which isn’t too far off. Besides, I want to see my Jakob and you happily mated.”
Mated. That was a weird phrase for her to keep using. Happily married, Ciara understood. While Mrs. Bohacek's English was perfect, they were in a Slavic country, so maybe something was getting lost in translation.
“I don't intend on marrying anyone I have just met, and especially not someone who has kidnapped me.”
“Marriage is a whole other step. Mated, is what I said. You’re Jakob's true mate.”
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