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The Billionaire Dragon's Secret Son (Howls Romance) by Harmony Raines (1)

Chapter One – Poppy

His hands were warm on her skin as they caressed her thigh, moving higher, much higher, until his fingers looped around the elastic of her panties and ripped them off, with strength a man should not possess. She sighed against him, wanting him, needing him in a way she had never needed anyone before.

This shouldn’t be happening, this wasn’t part of her well-thought-out plan. This was lust, pure and simple. Lust for a dream that wasn’t real. She was here for one thing, and one thing only, and it wasn’t sex.

But the way George Lancaster looked at her from across the crowded room, his eyes revealing his naked lust for her, she knew she was lost. Not because she was weak and could not fight the control his gaze wrought on her, but because she needed to get up the damn fancy staircase and into his room.

And that look said she wasn’t going anywhere—unless it was with him.

So here she was, with his fingers brushing against her clit, and no matter how many times she told herself she was doing this for her brother,Brax, she knew she was lying to herself. Part of giving herself to George Lancaster had nothing to do with her mission, nothing to do with her promise to steal the Heartsfire Blade, a jewel-encrusted dagger dating from the time of the Vikings, a time when legend told the last dragons walked the Earth.

Of course, Poppy didn’t believe in myths and legends, she believed in the everyday struggle of real life, and the need to get her stupid brother off the hook again. Poppy pushed all thought of Brax out of her head. She didn’t need him interrupting George and his magic touch. And oh, yes, his touch was the kind of magic she could believe in.

His fingers slipped inside her, and she gasped against his mouth. A shiver passed through her; there was something in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, that told of a primal beast lurking under his skin. A beast that was about to claim her.

He maneuvered her toward the bed, tearing her demure blue dress as he ripped it from her body and cast it aside. He paused. For one lingering moment he stared at her naked flesh, and groaned with need. If this was any other man, or any other circumstance, she would have covered her body with her hands, or dashed across the room to flick off the lights. But he made her feel fierce, he made her feel alive, he made her feel like a woman.

And when he stripped off his clothes and revealed the body of a god, he nearly made her forget why she was here. Strong muscles encased in taut, tanned skin that seemed to shimmer as he flexed his muscles. His thighs were toned, his hips narrow; then she looked lower, and gasped at the size of his…

Damn, this was not what she signed up for. The hesitation flickered across her face, and he read her thoughts. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes rising to meet his.

“I’ve never been more sure.” He gave her a look that confused her. The fierce hardness softened, replaced by soft brown eyes that spoke of their future together, and of his need to have her and to hold her.

Well, he was going to be very disappointed. He could have her, but he was sure as hell not going to hold her. She knew all about men like George Lancaster: the kind of men who took what they wanted because they wanted it, and damn the repercussions.

Her mind fixed on her goal, she stepped forward, reaching for him, and he came to her, picked her up, then placed her on the bed. George joined her, his body hovering over hers, kissing her, murmuring words she couldn’t understand, but they were words that made her insides turn to liquid fire.

He slid between her thighs, easing her knees wider, before he kissed her most intimate places. Most intimate, her hands fisted the sheets as he licked, sucked, and nipped her sensitive skin, until she ached for him deep in her core. No man had touched her like this before, no man had made her want to abandon reason and give herself completely.

Poppy arched her back, her orgasm rushing toward her. She cried out, not caring if the people at the party downstairs heard. Sensations flooded her body, every nerve ending alive as she came for him. And this was for him, his expert mouth and fingers playing her like an instrument.

George Lancaster didn’t let up until she was completely spent, her breath catching in her throat, ragged and frayed, like her nerves. When he lifted his head to look at her, he had a look of pure triumph on his face. He knew the control he had over her—at least he thought he knew.

As she writhed on the bed, she had caught sight of her prize; it was in a locked case, just as she had been told it would be. The case was padlocked to the towel rail in the adjoining bathroom. He probably hadn’t expected anyone to come up here. He should have been more careful.

Inwardly, she smiled ruefully. She should have been more careful. Allowing George Lancaster to seduce her was not how she had planned this. In and out, without drawing attention, that had been the plan. Poppy had purposely chosen a dress that would make her invisible. No plunging neckline, no daring slit up the skirt to show off her shapely legs. She’d dressed demurely, but had somehow managed to catch George’s eye.

George, who moved wordlessly to hover over her body, his weight supported on one elbow, while he used his right hand to guide himself into her heated depths. Teasing her, moving so that the head of his hard length pushed inside her, before pulling back out. His teasing awoke her arousal, making it strong, making her ache to know what it was like to have this man inside her.

The teasing ended abruptly. He pushed inside her, but this time instead of pulling back out, he thrust forward, filling her with his staff. She groaned and arched her back, offering herself to him. An offer he did not refuse.

In and out he thrust, long powerful strokes, impaling her as he took her to the brink of her second orgasm. He kissed her lips as he came, drowning out her cries. Poppy had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck and cling to him as if her life depended on it. She came, her inner walls gripping him, as if trying to hold on to this moment, hold onto this man.

Because she knew this was a fleeting moment, one she would never forget, but one she had to put distance between them as soon as she had her hands on the Heartsfire Blade.

But this moment was for her to enjoy, to savor…

“Mommy.”

Poppy dragged herself out of the fog of sleep, and out of the recurring dream that had haunted her for the last five years. Five years in which she had been hiding, all thanks to that fateful night.

“Mommy,” Charlie called again.

Poppy rolled over and cracked one eye open. “It’s only just light.”

“I can hear the birds,” Charlie announced. “Can we go outside and listen?”

“You and those birds,” Poppy said, sitting up and pushing her auburn hair out of her eyes. It needed a cut. Later today she would have to sharpen the scissors on the whetstone out back and then cut it as best she could. Gone were the days of long, leisurely visits to the hair salon. Up here in the mountains she had to do everything herself. Including cutting her hair.

She sighed. It could wait until after they had been down to the store for some fresh supplies. “Hey, Charlie bear, why don’t we walk and listen to the birds? We have to go down to the store, we could take our breakfast, and you can eat yours, while I pull you along on the sled.”

“Yeah!” Charlie exclaimed, jumping up and down, before racing toward her and launching himself into her arms. “Can I have some candy if we go to the store?”

“As long as you don’t complain on the way back. You can ride the sled there, but you’ll have to walk back here.”

“No complaining,” Charlie agreed, which she knew was a lie. And she didn’t blame him: it was a long steep path back up the mountain. But it was the safest place she could think of when she found out she had stolen more than the Heartsfire Blade from George Lancaster. She had also stolen his firstborn son. The son who grew in her belly for nine months, the son whom no one could ever know existed.

Poppy swept those thoughts aside, along with the residual tension her dream had left in her body. Exercise, good productive exercise, that was what she needed.

Liar, the voice of betrayal murmured in her head. What she really needed, what she really wanted, had eyes that beckoned her to bed and a body that made her want to stay there forever. But that was a dream, a fantasy, and she lived in the real world. A harsh world she had forced herself into when she realized she had been set up by the brother she thought she was saving.

“OK, Charlie, let’s get you dressed. You need to wrap up warm, it’s cold this early on the mountain.” She ducked her head and peered out of the small window of the cabin, which looked down over the wooded valley below. The window gave her the best view, but the scenery wasn’t the reason it was positioned there. It was her lookout. If anyone came up the mountain to the cabin—and no one ever did—she would see them.

But they could not stay in their hideaway forever. She glanced at Charlie. He was getting bigger, he needed other children to play with. Soon she was going to have to risk everything and leave this sanctuary she had built for them. But not today, today was for watching the wildlife and listening to the birds.

“But it’s going to be a sunny day later,” Poppy added lightly. She was not going to let thoughts of the future cloud this glorious day.

Once they were dressed, and Poppy had grabbed Charlie some fresh bread she had baked yesterday, and some dried fruit, along with a cup of juice, they went outside. It truly was the best of days. On days like this she could think of no other place she would rather be. But when the winter snow came, piling so high against the door they could not get out, she worried what would happen to Charlie if she got hurt, or fell ill.

“OK, Charlie bear,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Giddy up, Mommy,” he called from behind her, as she took the weight of the sled on her shoulders and pulled it over the stony ground. The downward slope made this part easy, and the sled rattled and bumped over the stones. Charlie opened his mouth and said, “Ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh,” his voice juddering in time with the sled.

Poppy smiled. She loved his innocence, an innocence she wanted him to hang on to for many years. But once they left their sanctuary, that could be swept away, if they ever found him.

An hour later, they hit the road, and she walked the last mile to the store on the smooth asphalt surface. The sun rose high above the Welsh mountain peaks, and she unzipped her jacket and placed it under Charlie in the sled. “How you doing there?” she asked him.

“Good,” Charlie said. “I was looking at the clouds. That one there looks like a dragon flying across the sky.”

Poppy stopped so suddenly the sled bumped into the back of her legs. She hardly noticed as she turned her head up to the sky. “A dragon?” For a moment, she half expected there to be a mighty dragon flying across the sky and swooping down on them. An image of George Lancaster rode in her mind, his face, intent on hers. Was he hunting her?

But it was just a cloud and dragons weren’t real, no matter what garbage Brax had tried to convince her of. “It does, doesn’t it?” she replied.

“Yeah, and that one looks like a rabbit,” Charlie said. “The dragon is chasing the rabbit.”

Poppy pulled the sled and their journey resumed, Charlie making all kinds of creatures from the clouds drifting lazily above them. They rounded the last bend, and the store came into view. Poppy always experienced a twinge of apprehension when she saw signs of civilization. Ridiculous really, especially since it was too early in the season for there to be many tourists, and the guy who ran it, Harry Jessop, lived alone, and rarely left the place. Deliveries came in on a Tuesday, a day Poppy made sure she avoided.

In short, she would likely be in and out and not see anyone but Harry. The fact no cars had passed them since they hit the road gave her hope. One bonus of coming down the mountain to the store so early in the day, was that no one else was around at this time. Any early season tourists would be still wrapped up in bed, and the mountain men and ranchers who lived scattered around the mountains, would be busy doing chores.

Poppy relaxed. She had done a grocery run like this every couple of weeks for the last couple of years, since she brought Charlie to the mountain. It would be fine. It was always fine.

And yet something prickled her senses, something that made her think today was going to be the exception to an otherwise perfect rule.

Pushing her paranoia aside—it was a side effect of her past, Poppy picked up her pace, the sled skidding along behind her. She knew this stretch of road well, knew all the places where she could scoot off the road if she needed to, and all the dense thickets she could hide in if there was a need. As she walked, she mentally checked them off; it was her thing, it made her feel safe. It was the same training that had enabled her to steal the Heartsfire Blade and get out of the house without George Lancaster seeing. And he had been watching. After they had sex, she had gone to the bathroom, picked the lock on the case, and pocketed the dagger.

When she went back to the room, she smiled and told him it had been fun.

That was when she had her first inkling that for George Lancaster sex with Poppy had not been for fun. Their intimate encounter meant more than that to him. His eyes spoke of possession. Well, she had no intention of being possessed, she was her own woman.

“Damn it,” Poppy said, as she looked up. Thinking of George Lancaster had made her lose her concentration.

“What is it, Mommy?” Charlie asked, picking up on the fear that raced through her body.

Poppy ducked off the road and slipped down along a well-used game trail, turning to put both hands on the sled to keep it upright as the weight of it crashed into her. Charlie shouted in fear, his eyes wide. Poppy put her finger to her lips, and he immediately quieted in a well-practiced routine.

The sled came to rest against a tree trunk. She heaved it back onto the game trail, and continued downwards, her mind racing. She had no comfort to offer Charlie as her mind ran through different scenarios of how this was going to play out.

She was certain they had not been seen. She was also certain their cabin would no longer be a safe sanctuary. Their quiet mountain life was at an end.

The choice before her was dire. She either went back on the run, or she gave herself over to the man who had made her steal the Heartsfire Blade in the first place. But he would try to use Charlie against her, and his father, once he knew who that was.

Which left her only one choice. There was one place Charlie would be safe. But safety would come at a terrible price. She hid her tears and said brightly to Charlie, “You know, it’s such a perfect day, why don’t we go on an adventure?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed happily.

Poppy’s mind was set. It was time to face up to her past, it was time to face up to George Lancaster.

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