Chapter Five
Nic didn’t want to frighten Constance any more than she already was, but she deserved the truth. Jeremiah Dent was on the list of current members of the Knights that Tarrant was compiling. His brother would lose his mind if he knew what Nic was telling her. Too damn bad. He could no more lie to her than he could harm her.
Constance Owens was special.
There was something about her that made all his senses sing. He wanted about a month with her in his bed to sate his desires. Because he wanted her. More than he’d wanted a woman in a very long time.
That made her dangerous. It also made her irresistible. But first they had to deal with the Knights and rescue her sister. He only hoped they were able to do both without the Knights learning about him and without either of the women being harmed. It made him sick to his stomach how easily the Knights involved innocent people in their quest for power.
Of course, Tarrant would tell him no one was innocent. Or he would have before he met his Valeriya. His brother had mellowed. Nic almost laughed and shook his head. No, Tarrant hadn’t mellowed in the least. If anything, he was more cynical than ever.
“Constance?” He was getting worried about her. She was staring up at him, a blank expression on her face.
“A secret society that believes dragons are real?” When he nodded, she started to laugh. There was a slight hysterical edge to it that concerned him. Apparently, this last revelation was the final straw for her.
“Why don’t we sit down?”
She shook her head. “What’s next? Dancing frogs? A wizard? This is crazy. All I did was buy a few things at an estate sale. Now I’m in the middle of a bad B movie.” Each word she spoke got louder, until she was practically shouting.
Nic did the only thing he could think of to quiet her. He kissed her.
She made a small sound of distress in the back of her throat. He knew he should stop, should take a step back.
He slid his tongue into her open mouth and tasted her. He caught a slight hint of peppermint, either from a candy or toothpaste. He couldn’t be sure. Underneath it all was the sweet, sultry taste of woman.
She put her hands against his chest. Instead of pushing him away, she fisted her fingers in his shirt and clung to him. Constance was much shorter than him, so he slid his arms around her and lifted her right off her feet. He loved having her in his arms, loved the press of her body against his.
He angled his head and plunged back into her mouth, devouring her. He couldn’t get enough. She was like all his favorite foods all rolled into one, and as a drakon, he had a voracious appetite.
She slid her hands over his chest and around his neck. He groaned when she tangled her fingers in his hair. He lost all sense of time and place. Even the creature inside him rumbled with delight.
For the first time in centuries, Nic was at peace. The yearning, the emptiness that clawed at him every second of every day had been silenced beneath the onslaught of their kiss.
He pulled away and stared at the woman he held in his arms, wondering what sorcery she had to be able to calm his demons. She blinked, her cheeks a blushing pink and her mouth hanging open. She seemed as struck as he was by the power of their kiss.
Nic slowly released her, barely biting back a moan as her body slid over his. There was no hiding his erection, so he didn’t even try. To give Constance credit, she didn’t scream, didn’t accuse him of taking unfair advantage.
“That.” She licked her moist lips. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“Yes, it should have.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He lowered his head and raked his fingers through his hair. “I was out of line.” He couldn’t apologize because he sure as hell wasn’t sorry for kissing her. What he was sorry about was the timing. Constance was worried about her sister’s safety.
She squared her shoulders and rubbed her hands over the thighs of her jeans. “You really need to leave.”
He knew he had his work cut out for him. She was ready to kick him out of her house again, and he couldn’t let that happen. “Sit down.” He reached for her, but she backed up a step. He held up his hands in a signal of peace. “Please. Let me tell you about the people you’re involved with.”
“I’m not involved with them.” She made a wide circle around him and sank back into one of the living-room chairs. “And I’m not involved with you, either.” She buried her face in her hands and took a deep breath. “All I want is my sister back and those statues gone.”
She raised her head and the fear reflected in her eyes almost brought him to his knees. Inside of him, his dragon roared, wanting to be released so it could wreak havoc on the world for making this woman sad and afraid.
Constance Owens was a very dangerous woman. He thought about his brothers and how women had recently come into their lives, seemingly at random, only to discover they were true mates.
Nic didn’t want any part of that. As happy as his brothers seemed, Nic knew better than to allow any woman that kind of power over him. He enjoyed women, enjoyed hearing them laugh and sigh and moan his name. But he didn’t want one in his life on a permanent basis, and certainly not one who had the potential to destroy him if she turned on him.
And if his mother turned on him, why wouldn’t Constance. She barely knew him. All she wanted and needed from him was to get her sister back.
He prowled across the living room and sank down onto the couch across from her. He could give her that. Then he’d take her to bed for about a week and get her out of his system.
There, he had a plan. He always felt better when he had a plan.
“The Knights of the Dragon,” he began, “have been around for centuries. These are powerful men and women in banking, industry, and governments around the world. The only allegiances they hold are to one another, not to country. And even then, they’ll turn on their allies if it means gaining power.”
Constance shook her head, making the ends of her hair dance. He was briefly mesmerized by the color. He wanted to run his fingers through the strands to see if it was as soft as it looked. He cursed himself for not doing so when he’d had the opportunity.
“You don’t really expect me to believe that.” Her gaze turned sharp, and she pointed at him. “Are you one of them?”
He reared back in his seat. “Hell no.” That was the worst insult anyone could throw at him.
She slowly nodded. “Okay. Okay. So the members of this ‘society’.” She made air quotations around the word. “They believe dragons are real?”
“Yes.” He’d started this discussion, so he might as well finish it. “They believe the blood of a dragon can cure all disease. It can bring someone back from the brink of death. But it’s not an easy cure. Some die while others live. And if taken in small quantities on a regular basis, the blood can keep a person alive indefinitely.”
Now she looked at him with total disbelief. “You expect me to believe that educated, intelligent men and women think these mythical creatures exist and they want to what, capture one so they can drink its blood and stay young forever?”
He gave a decisive nod. “Yes.”
…
Nicodemus Wilde was a very handsome man and could kiss better than anyone she’d ever met. Heck, the kiss she’d shared with him, short as it had been, had been better than any sex she’d ever had. Which was a very sad observation of her sex life.
Too bad he was a sandwich short of a picnic, as her grandpa used to say. He truly believed there was a secret society who wanted to use the statues she’d found to imprison a dragon so they could drink the creature’s blood.
If the situation weren’t so tragic and scary, she’d be rolling on the floor laughing. “You really don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Maybe it was his way of trying to get her to give him the statues. That made more sense.
He released a long sigh. She tried not to notice how his chest expanded when he took a deep breath. “Expect, no, but it’s the truth nonetheless.”
Okay, now she was perplexed. She didn’t like the edge of uncertainty creeping in. The fact he wasn’t trying to convince her that he was telling the truth confused her. The sincerity in his voice didn’t seem fake.
She glanced back at the phone on the coffee table, willing it to ring. What was taking so long?
“Constance.” She briefly closed her eyes, trying to ignore the way her body went weak when he said her name. The man was walking, talking sex. And she didn’t need any distractions, especially not from a man who wanted something from her.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to hear it. All I want is to get a call, trade my sister for the statues, and forget any of this ever happened.” Simple and easy was always best.
“You don’t honestly think they’re just going to let your sister go, do you?”
“Yes, I do. I have to.” She pointed her finger at him. “As far as they know, I don’t know a damn thing about them. And I want to keep it that way.” She jumped up and began to pace. “You need to leave.” Whoever had taken Abigail was probably watching the house and knew she had company.
None of this made sense. In the end, they were just statues, made with natural materials, carved by some artisan years ago. They had value, but they certainly weren’t priceless. Not worth kidnapping a woman over.
Unless Nic is telling the truth, a small voice in the back of her head whispered. Could it be true? Could there be a secret society that believed a creature such as a dragon existed? It made no sense to her, but then again, many things in this world didn’t make sense to her.
“Okay, say I buy your theory.” She glared at him. He’d made himself quite at home. He was sitting in the center of the sofa with his long arms spread out along the back and his legs kicked out and crossed at the ankles. He looked as though he didn’t have a care in the world. She was about to blast him when she noticed the tension in his shoulders and tightness of his jaw. No, he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he seemed.
“Not that I do,” she was compelled to point out. “But say for a moment I did.”
He inclined his head. The man was wearing jeans and a leather jacket, but there was something almost regal in his posture. “And if you believed, for a moment?” he asked. The bastard was humoring her.
She scowled and pointed her finger at him to make her point. “How can a statue of a dragon be dangerous? How can it be used to help them trap a dragon?” She felt stupid even suggesting such a thing.
“I don’t know.”
Constance was taken aback. She honestly hadn’t expected that. She’d expected a long explanation. “You don’t?” That didn’t make any sense. If he was trying to convince her that his story was true, wouldn’t he have facts and explanations ready to toss out at her?
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands together. “Nope. I only know that if the Knights want the statues, they have a heck of a lot of power.” He captured her with his dark eyes. He looked worried. “All I know is that if they get those statues, it will mean trouble.”
“For the dragons?” The words were ripped from her in a fast whisper.
He nodded, and an expression of sorrow washed over him. “Yes.”
Whether she believed in dragons or not, Nic obviously did. Maybe this secret society had hurt someone he knew. That was a logical explanation. “Nic,” she began, not quite sure what she was going to say.
“I know you don’t believe me. Not even for a moment.” He tossed her words back at her, but not in a sarcastic way. If anything, he seemed sad.
She gripped the back of her chair and dug her fingers into the fabric to keep from going to him. It was crazy, this urge she had to comfort him, to reassure him. She was the one with the problem, not him.
“But Jeremiah Dent is a very dangerous man. He obviously has people on the ground here, people who were able to kidnap your sister.”
“How do I know?” she began. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “How do I know you aren’t just making all this up as some elaborate hoax so I’ll give you the statue?” Because the thought had occurred to her. He could have her sister stashed somewhere and be using the other buyer as a smoke screen.
But he hadn’t known about the other buyer until he’d shown up here.
She rubbed her head, ignoring the pounding behind her eyes. She didn’t know what to do or who to trust. Not when it came to her sister’s safety. There was nothing more important than getting Abigail back alive and unharmed.
“You don’t.” Once again, he didn’t try to convince her that he was telling the truth, but she felt it all the way to her bones. Dragons weren’t real, but the threat to Abigail was.
“So what do I do?” Her knees were wobbling again, so she used the chair to help prop her up as she walked around it and sat.
“You wait until you’re contacted. I’ll go with you.”
“No.” She shook her head, adamant about this. “If they see you, they might hurt Abigail.” She had to make him understand. “She’s my baby sister.”
“I’ll follow covertly. They won’t see me.”
“If they’re watching the house, they already know you’re here,” she pointed out. She didn’t see any realistic way he could help her.
“I’ll leave, fall back, and watch from a distance.”
Constance studied him and a faint smile tugged at her lips. He was nothing if not determined. “You’re too big to be missed. What are you, six and a half feet?”
“Six-nine, and that’s beside the point.”
That was completely the point. “Why do you even want to help? Do you want the statues that badly?” The statues obviously had a much deeper value than she’d ever imagined in her wildest dreams. And like all such items, there was a price to be paid when one stumbled across it.
“Yes, I want them that badly.”
Constance ignored the sharp pain in her chest. What had she expected him to say? That the statues didn’t mean anything to him. That he was doing this to help her. Yeah, that’s not the way life worked. It was a good reminder of her top priority—Abigail.
“I also want to get your sister back for you,” he added. She considered herself a pretty good judge of character and heard the sincerity in his voice. He would help her, but she could never forget that their priorities were different. She wanted her sister back safe and sound above all else. Nic wanted the statues.
“Fine. Then you need to go.” She looked again at the innocuous black phone. There was so much riding on it. “I don’t think the phone will ring while you’re here.” And each second it didn’t ring was one second longer her sister was being held captive.
He pushed off the couch but didn’t head for the door. He walked toward her and crouched down in front of her. He was so broad he blocked her entire view of the rest of the room. All she could see was Nic.
“We’ll get her back.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She wanted to believe him but knew she could only depend on herself to rescue her sister. And she’d do whatever it took to make it happen.
“I never do.” He reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers over her cheek. They were slightly rough, but his touch was tender. Constance closed her eyes against the onslaught of sensation. She wanted to turn her face into his touch but didn’t dare. She couldn’t allow Nic to get under her skin any more than he already had. He was a virtual stranger. His well-being could not take precedence over that of her sister.
The leather of his jacket creaked, and she felt him getting closer. She opened her eyes just as his lips touched hers. Unlike the first time, this kiss was softer, seeking. He grazed his lips over her, lightly caressing. Her toes curled in her sneakers. Her breath caught in her throat.
She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to feel them securely wrapped around her, keeping all her worries at bay. But that wasn’t realistic, and it also wasn’t her. Constance had been raised to depend on herself and to do whatever needed to be done.
She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to ignore the heavy thud of his heart, the shifting of heavy muscles beneath her palm, and the heat that sank into her skin.
Nic eased back, and one corner of his mouth kicked up. “Don’t worry, Constance. I won’t let you down.”
That was partly what she was afraid of. How much more appealing would he be if she knew she could truly depend on him. “You have to go.” Was that her voice, all husky and deep? She cleared her throat. “You have to leave.”
“So you’ve already told me several times now. If I were a more sensitive soul, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”
She gave a snort of laughter before she could stop herself.
Nic smiled. “That’s my girl.” He took her phone and input his cell-phone number. “Call me if you need me.”
When he handed it back, she gripped it tightly, holding it like it was a lifeline. He stood and walked to the door. “I’ll be close by.” Then he opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him.
Alone, she curled up in the chair and stared at the door. Her fingers absently touched her bottom lip. She could still feel the pressure from his mouth, taste his deep, compelling flavor. She desperately tried to ignore the way his parting words warmed her from the inside out.
His girl. She wasn’t anyone’s girl. Never had been.
She shook off her lethargy and sat forward, glaring at the phone. She glanced at her watch. Nic had been here less than a half hour. It had seemed much longer.
Time had to be creeping by for Abigail. Each minute an eternity. It had only been a matter of hours since her sister had been taken, but Constance was ready to have this entire ordeal over and done with. She wanted to put it all behind her.
Well, maybe not all of it. She wouldn’t mind seeing Nic again, even if she thought he was a little off his rocker for believing in secret societies and dragons.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Leave it to her to be attracted to a guy who seemed to have a hard time dealing with reality. Although, to be honest, he seemed perfectly fine, perfectly normal, other than believing in the whole knight and dragon thing.
Maybe he’d played too many video games as a kid or was into role playing. Either way, he was the last thing she needed in her life to complicate it. Too bad, though. Nicodemus Wilde broke the hot-o-meter. He certainly revved her engines, and that was a very rare thing.
She glared at the phone again, realizing she was using her attraction to Nic to take her mind off her sister. “Ring, damn it.”
It rang.