Was this what love felt like?

Drake’s arm clenched even more tightly over her waist and he tugged her in closer, his warm breath ruffling her hair as he slept.

It was silly, to be sure. How could she possibly be in love after only a week’s time? Half of which had been spent fighting tooth and nail to escape. It was ludicrous.

But as she traced the veins in his muscular forearm with the tip of her finger, felt the rise and fall of his chest against her back, she couldn’t deny that she felt something.

Something exciting, and instinctual and fragile. Something she’d never experienced before. Something she wasn’t ready to let go of.

Her inner feminist railed at the thought. In what world did a woman get treated like a commodity to be bought and sold, only to fall for her captor?

To be fair, though, initially, Drake didn’t know she wasn’t aware of the arrangement. And, while he’d forced her to stay, he hadn’t forced anything else. In fact, every time things had gotten intimate, it had been by her hand. That didn’t make him a saint by any stretch, but the more time she spent in his company, the surer she was that, if a time came where he was certain she would never truly come around and want to be there?

He would let her go.

Forget the macho speeches about dragons keeping what belonged to them. Drake was a good man. And, if she was right in her thinking, he actually cared about her.

The truth of that thought resonated through her whole body and seeped into her bones, warming her from the inside out.

He murmured something softly in his sleep, which she was pretty sure sounded like “omelet”, and she found herself grinning like a fool.

She kind of wanted to cook for him. To see his appreciation as he dug into something she made to please him. Dear god, was that what sex did to a person’s head?

She stared out the glass wall into the starry night, replaying every second, every touch, over in her mind. His hands were magic. Even now, her flesh tingled in remembrance.

Could it be that she was still euphoric from all the orgasms? That she was romanticizing what she had with Drake because he’d been her first?

Whatever the case, she clearly had some thinking to do. What harm would there be in staying for a while? Seeing if what was blossoming between them was real?

Part of captaining her own ship was the willingness to take the route straight in front of her, even if it was the one she’d been set on by someone else. Continuing her attempts at escape now, just to assert herself and thwart her parents would be like cutting of her own nose to spite her face.

Because she wanted to stay.

In this moment, with his arms around her, she couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be.

The rightness of it washed over her like a reassuring hug and she let out a soft sigh. Who knew what tomorrow might bring? But for now, she was going to trust her instincts.

She lifted Drake’s arm off her and wriggled as carefully as possible away from him, to the edge of the bed. With one last look at his relaxed, handsome face in the moonlight, she swung her legs over the side of the mattress to stand.

Midnight snack in bed, coming up.

She padded across the room to the bathroom. Her muscles felt fluid and loose, but there was a subtle soreness between her thighs. Not pain, exactly. She just felt taken.

And taken well.

She pursed her lips to keep from grinning like an idiot and plucked one of Drake’s black robes from the hook on the back of the door. She slid her arms into the soft material and belted it loosely around her waist.

It had been a while since she’d cooked for anyone. When she was with her pack, they typically ate their dinner meals at the main house and they were prepared by one of her packmates who was a far better chef than she could ever hope to be. But breakfast, she could do. She made a mean plate of eggs and bacon, and couldn’t wait to show off her skills to Drake.

When she reached the main floor, the hair on the back of her neck rose. It was chilly without the fire to be sure, but that damned ominous skull-throne, lit by the light of the moonbeams pouring in through the back window made her throat tighten with revulsion. If she was going to stay, that thing was going to have to go. Even if it was a joke, it was creepy as hell.

She averted her gaze and bustled through the great room with her head down.

She pushed open the kitchen door and was instantly soothed by the relative warmth of the room. Copper pots and pans gleamed, and her gaze was instantly drawn to the double ovens. Hell, maybe she’d even try to whip up some biscuits. After all, how hard could it be?

Thwap.

Willa whipped her head to the left at the sound still reverberating through the room.

What the hell was that?

Thwap!

Her heart raced as she narrowed her eyes and clutched the robe more tightly around her waist. Either something was seriously wrong with the pipes behind the far wall or someone was trying to get into the house.

Etienne?

Her mind reeled wildly, recalling an image of the charming Frenchman before rewinding even further to a memory of his much larger, much more terrifying incarnation.

Etienne’s dragon? Would he really challenge Drake by breaking into his home to get to her?

A flash through the window caught her eye and a pair of incandescent eyes gleamed in the darkness. Her throat closed as she took a slow step backward and then another, creeping toward the kitchen door. Had he—it?—seen her yet? If not, it was best to keep her movements at a minimum. But if so? She should be running like hell.

Whatever the case, she had to get Drake, and fast.

Sucking in a breath, she pushed aside her indecision, wheeled around, making a mad dash for the door. She’d barely made it three steps before she slammed into what felt like a brick wall.

“Willa, stop! It’s me.”

The familiar whisper had her wheeling backward in utter shock.

“Grey?”

* * *

The path in front of him was long and winding, and as he walked it, it only seemed to grow longer. He could see her, just ten yards ahead, but it was as if his feet were stuck in molasses and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move faster.

“Willa,” he called, his voice rife with worry. Surely she could see the quicksand in front of her. Surely she realized she had to slow down and watch where she was going.

Instead, she tossed a terrified glance over her shoulder and only ran faster.

“Willa!” he shouted, this time panic taking over as cold dread ran through him. Two more steps and she—

Drake sat bolt upright with a roar and blinked wildly as the vision in his head faded. The adrenaline pounding through his blood mixed with relief as reality dawned.

A dream. It was just a dream.

He drew in a long breath and blew it out, willing his heartbeat to slow. Everything was all right and Willa was—

He turned to peer more closely at the pile of blankets and pillows beside him that he’d thought were obscuring his sleeping wife.

Nope. She was gone.

He leapt to his feet and charged across the room, trying to stay calm. The fear that gripped him was residual stress from his dream. That was all. She was probably just in the library, or went to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

But as he charged down the stairs, he knew he was lying to himself. Her scent still hung in the air, spicy and sweet, but her aura…the presence that both calmed him and made him wild all at the same time?

It was gone.

If something had happened to her, he would never forgive himself. And if Etienne had done something to her?

His dragon stretched and pulsed inside him, like a ball of fury wrapped in vengeance.

He pushed back the urge to shift and tried to keep his blood pressure from skyrocketing to the point that it wasn’t within his control any longer. By the time he made it through the great room, he was crazed. He kicked down the kitchen door with a snarl and stopped short as he took in the scene before him.

The door was open, and swinging on its hinges in the chilly night winds and a second scent assailed his nostrils. Not Etienne.

White hot fury formed a ball in his stomach replacing the icy dread.

Wolves.

Somehow, his clever little wife had contacted her brethren and they had come to rescue her. And her little seduction had been nothing more than another trick to get him to let his guard down.

A trick that had worked all too well.

A searing pain shot through his heart, so deep, his muscles shook at the blow.

Images of the past few days flitted through his mind in the world’s cruelest highlight reel.

Willa with her head tossed back in ecstasy as he drove into her.

Willa laughing as he told her about his first kiss.

Willa’s soft smile as she traced the line of his jaw.

Jesus. She left him. She played him for a fool. He thought she was falling in love with him and he’d let his guard down. He’d trusted her and she’d charged in with her cavalry and obliterated him.

He’d spent half the night raking himself over the coals, riddled with guilt. And this was how she did him?

The second blast of rage that came was nothing but a relief as it smothered the pain threatening to choke him.

All thoughts of letting her choose…all thoughts of offering his wife her freedom disintegrated under the violent heat of his fury as he bounded toward the great room door, already letting his muscles loosen, already letting his wings unfurl.

He was going to slay every one of those mangy mutts where they stood.

And then? He was going to drag his faithless traitor of a wife back to this keep and show her the true nature of dragons.

Read the conclusion of Coercion in book three…