In her dream, Dakota stood in an alley. Puddles of urine and vomit pooled around her feet. Bags of garbage heaped high on both sides. Several had split and their contents – rotting food, trash, cat litter – dribbled down the pile.
From deep within that revolting mess, a woman whispered, “Why did you leave me?”
Cally. Oh God, Cally was in there!
“Why didn’t you help me?”
“Cally? Where are you?” Dakota threw herself at the garbage, flinging bags wildly.
“I needed you and you weren’t there.”
“I didn’t know where you were,” she sobbed, ignoring the filth that cascaded down around her.
“Why did you let me go? You should have taken care of me. You’re my big sister.”
Was that a scrap of cloth beneath the rotting banana peels and coffee grounds? Dakota thrust her arm deep into the pile. There! An arm! Her fingers closed around a cold wrist and she pulled with all her might. Garbage cascaded around her, bags splitting, filth raining everywhere. But slowly, she pulled Cally out.
Not Cally. Her corpse.
Slime soaked her beautiful blonde hair. Flies buzzed about her.
Then, her dead sister looked up at her, eyes filmed white. “This is your fault,” Cally croaked.
“No!” Dakota wailed as her sister’s hand closed around her wrist. “Owen Jackson did this! This isn’t my fault!”
“This is your fault,” Cally gurgled. One rotting hand rose toward her face. “You let me go.”
Dakota closed her eyes as those damp, slimy fingers stroked her cheek.
Then she screamed with all her might.
“Annie?”
Sensation flooded back. She heard footsteps, running toward her. Smelled lavender and jasmine. Dakota startled – and found herself kneeling on a thick Persian carpet. To her left stood an enormous canopy bed, draped in white silk. A bay window lay open along one white marble wall, offering views of a sprawling flower garden.
And Michael Farrell charged toward her, wearing nothing except a small red thong draped across his privates.
“Are you all right?” He dropped beside her as shivers overtook her.
“I dreamed… I was dreaming…”
But this was a dream too, wasn’t it? It had to be. Yet, the details, the vividness, took her breath away. She could feel the brush of the carpet beneath the thin silk robe she wore. None of the ‘rot’ in the alley had held the faintest scent. Here, the air was laced with a hint of lavender. Michael’s hand, as he helped her up, was warm and strong.
Her heart fluttered. Her breath shook her. When had that ever happened in a dream?
Even Michael seemed shocked as he glanced about the room. Though his confusion quickly melted into delight. “This is it,” he whispered. A proud smile lit his broad face and set his eyes glittering. “Finally.”
Seeing her blank look, his smile grew gentler. “You must be baffled by this. Why were you screaming? I hope this place doesn’t horrify you.”
“No, I was having a nightmare.” Outside the bay window, birds sang. Trees rustled in a soft breeze. “Where are we?”
“In a dream. One we’re sharing.” He caught her hand and drew her to the window. As Dakota settled on its soft, plush pillows, he stared out at the manicured gardens beyond.
“How is that possible?”
“There are so many things I have to tell you.”
Her heart beat faster as he took a seat beside her. Half from fear of this strange, deadly predator that had drawn her into a dream. Half from…
Oh hell. Be honest with yourself.
Half from him. That flimsy sash left almost nothing to her imagination. Broad, muscled chest. Sculpted abs. The masculine strength of his hips and stomach. His hair burned like a winter sun. But his body, oh, that was the gift of summer. Many red-heads had pale Irish skin. Not Michael. A rich bronze tan covered every inch of his sculpted body. Even (she risked a peak down at his crotch) his thighs.
Good grief, he must sun-bathe nude to get a tan like that!
That thought, and the image that came with it, sent a rush of warmth coursing through her body.
“Let me start with the hardest part.” He took a deep breath and stared into her eyes with his luminous green orbs. “Annie, I’m a Dragon.”
“Okay.”
Too late, she saw her mistake. A normal woman wouldn’t know Dragons even existed!
“You’re not surprised?”
“Well, I mean, it’s not real. It’s just a dream. You’re a Dragon? Sure, why not?”
That excuse popped out with shocking ease.
Wow. I guess I’ve got a gift for lying.
He chuckled and shook his head. Bangs flopped down over one of his eyes and Dakota had to crush an urge to brush it back. “It’s not ‘just’ a dream. It’s the Rite of Claiming, the most sacred ritual of my Kind.”
The intensity of his stare uneased her. She half expected him to drop to one knee and propose. “Every Dragon has a Mate somewhere in the world. A woman who’s the other half of his soul. When they find each other, they share a dream. This dream. It binds them together, in love, forever.”
Dakota’s stomach tied itself in a knot. It was a beautiful, romantic, magical idea…
…Except that the creature ‘Claiming’ her was a deadly monster. What did it mean to be bound to a Dragon?
Michael waited for a reaction, holding her small hands in his.
“Okay,” she gulped.
Oh, that was passionate!
Fortunately, Michael was too busy congratulating himself to notice her coolness. “I have no idea why it’s taken me so damned long to find a Mate. Every other Dragon in my Flight, except Cole, has Claimed a woman. It drove me crazy. I guess, though, it’s dumb luck. I mean, my Alpha says it’s Fate or whatever. Which doesn’t make any sense. If something ran this Rite in a sensible way, I’d have found you ages ago. Hell, even Donnelly and Jackson have Mates. I shouldn’t be coming in sixth, after them!”
Jackson. Owen Jackson.
The man who murdered Cally.
Shivers swept over her and a chill seemed to creep into the room.
Until strong arms pulled her close, warming her with their embrace. “I’m sorry. Here I am babbling about myself and you must think you’re going mad.”
Madness wasn’t her problem. It was her treacherous, unfaithful heart. Here she sat, beside a friend of the man who killed her sister. And did she hate him? Was she filled with righteous fury for the evil that Dragons had done to her?
No. Her heart didn’t care about any of that. Selfish, it relished his closeness, the heat of his perfect body. It grew drunk on the sight of his lean, powerful form.
Her heart didn’t care that he was a Dragon.
It wanted him.
“Annie.” Emerald eyes, rich with power and magic, bored into hers. It would have been enchanting, intoxicating…
…If he’d used her true name. But that false word hung between them, reminding her of her own deception.
“Will you Claim me?”
Okay, that actually was a lot like proposing marriage! Handsome as he was, Dakota had no intention of wedding a complete stranger. But getting married in a dream didn’t matter, though. Did it? And wouldn’t he grow hostile and suspicious if she refused?
Truly, she didn’t have much choice. “Yes? I guess? Oh, I’m sorry,” she winced as his nose wrinkled. “You’re probably expecting something more enthusiastic. It’s just…this is all so weird.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he assured her. “My Alpha Claimed his Mate perfectly. Straight by the numbers, of course.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Everyone else had at least hiccups in their Rites. A couple really screwed the pooch. I think we’re doing better than them.” He paused, considering. “Probably about average.”
So, now their Rite was being graded? If Michael started coaching her on how to improve her Claim game, it was really going to ruin the mood.
Fortunately, before that could happen, a voice of thunder rumbled in the blue skies above. “NO CLAIM WITHOUT TRUTH! SHOW HER!”
Dakota flinched – but Michael’s face lit with joy.
“What was that?”
“Fate? The First Dragon? My own soul?” He leaned on the edge of the open window, staring up at the sky. “No one knows. But it’s how the Rite begins. I need to show you the truth.”
Above the garden, the air shivered as a vast form developed.
It was a Dragon, its scales as red as Michael’s burning hair. Before it, Dakota froze like a rabbit in headlights. Her eyes darted back and forth between the curved daggers of its talons to its fanged jaws big enough to snap her up in one gulp. It was a dinosaur, a t-rex with wings, the most terrifying thing she had ever seen…
…Until she met its gaze.
Michael’s emerald eyes burned in the monster’s face. Light swirled around their pupils, fillings them with kindness.
No, with love.
This thing loved her. Irrational as that was, she knew it, to the bottom of her soul.
As her shock faded, she saw the creature more clearly. The proud toss of its head. The wild nobility of its sinuous body. Yes, it was a predator, it was deadly.
But it was beautiful. As beautiful as it was terrifying.
Michael turned to face her, and the creature hovered in the garden behind him. “This is my Dragon. Would you Claim us?”
Could she? This was no pet, no loyal mastiff. This was a fierce, deadly, untamed creature. Filled with an immense power. A burning brand, magic incarnate.
And what was she? A college dropout only one step ahead of the homeless people she served. A woman who couldn’t manage to save her own sister.
Shame welled up within her – until she met the Dragon’s eyes again.
No, those eyes promised, that is not the Truth of you. You protect the weak, as best you can. You are brave and clever. You are a Dragon’s Mate.
“Yes,” she whispered, as her heart grew still. She didn’t know if she spoke to Michael or to his Dragon soul.
“THEN CLAIM EACH OTHER!” That spectral roar split the night again, as the red Dragon faded from view. “TAKE WHAT IS YOURS!”
“There should be a… Yes!” Michael raised a wicked-looking black dagger. “Got it! And you should have a cup?”
Her hands were wrapped around something. To her surprise, Dakota found she held a large golden chalice. A Dragon, embossed in red gold, curled around its stem.
“Great!”
He looked so happy, so pleased with himself. Her last worries vanished, and Dakota burst into giggles.
Guess our Claim score is improving!
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” She bit her lips and smiled. “What’s next?”
“You raise your chalice. I plunge the dagger into it.”
Simple enough. They quickly did that.
“And now?”
Michael took the goblet from her then tossed it and the dagger aside. “Now, we make love.”
That statement – so bold, so blunt – startled her. Yes, she’d let him ‘Claim’ her. Yes, she said she’d be his Mate. But did she really want him?
Oh yes, her heart whispered. While her head fussed and worried, her heart knew exactly what it wanted. It wanted him to take her. Here, now, without any further delay. It wanted to see him burn with longing and feel the same heat rise in her.
He saw that desire echoed in her eyes – and it was all the invitation he needed.
Michael slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. Hard muscles pressed against her stomach, her breasts, with nothing but a thin scrap of cloth keeping them apart. His lips, hungry and eager, found hers. A tingle echoed through her body at the touch. An electric charge that brought her body to life. How long had it been since a man touched her like this? How long since she’d been fully alive, fully a woman?
Everywhere, she felt him. The first stirring of his manhood, nuzzling against her crotch. Arms wrapped close, a fortress shielding her from the sorrow of her life. Banishing it from her thoughts. Lips, soft and warm, exploring hers. His hands, one stroking the curves of her buttocks.
The other found the cord that tied her braid together. Though he tugged it free, her hair stayed bound, demure and cool.
His kisses drifted to her cheek, then throat. Dakota tilted her head back, offering her body to his inquisitive mouth. Fingers teased her braid and the first loops parted, yielding to his touch. At each stroke of his hand, another loosened. Long brown locks, always kept tightly under control, spilled free. Soft, they whispered across her shoulders and stirred at the touch of Michael’s breath. Had it truly been three years since she allowed her hair (or herself) to be free?
Her own hands explored his body. Curling through the flames of his locks. Gliding down the hard planes of his body, the strange, masculine lines of his back. Stroking the tight, firm swell of his ass. And his body blossomed beneath her touch. Breath grew deeper, kisses more urgent. His manhood awakened, roused by the feel of her body, rubbing against it.
“Let me see you,” he whispered, drawing back.
Only a simple robe separated them. Dakota slipped one strap off her shoulder and the gown fluttered to the ground, a puddle of white silk pooling around her feet. As the garden breeze whispered around her breasts, she started to cover them. Dim memories, echoes of another, unkind lover, stirred old shames.
But Michael caught her hand, raising it to his mouth for one sweet kiss. Joy lit his face as his eyes devoured her. Joy – and something else. A hunger, a need. A desire that would not be denied. That longing, and the bulge at his crotch, sang the truth of his lust. Faced with that desire, her hesitation melted away.
“Someone hurt you.” Menace roughened his voice.
“It’s nothing. Someone stupid, a long time ago.”
“I’m not that man,” he promised. “And no one will ever hurt you again.”
Muscled arms swept her off her feet and cradled her against his chest. Dakota marveled at the ease, his control. One flicker of doubt – would he drop her? – quickly drowned by passion. How strange to trust a man not to hurt her. Then she gave herself to that pleasure. The sensation of his arms, hard, unyielding, holding her aloft. The sensuous feel of being helpless in his grasp as he strode to the bed. A delicious submission, a sense of being trapped in a cage she had no desire to escape.
Gently, he lowered her on the bed’s silk cover. For one moment, he stood above her, red hair burning in the cool light, worshipping her body with those emerald, luminous eyes. Then he knelt beside her on the bed and lowered himself, covering her with his heat, his desire.
Caught beneath him, Dakota’s breath grew ragged. She slipped her legs apart, welcoming him. The silk sash hiding his manhood came loose with a single tug and he tossed it aside, freeing his cock. She couldn’t see it, but she felt its hard, eager length press against her, setting her on fire with an ecstasy like none she’d ever felt. Fast behind that feeling came the lightest hint of disappointment. Their union would be over soon, once he’d slaked his desire. Yet she couldn’t be too disappointed. No lover had ever aroused her so fiercely.
Then again, she’d never been Claimed by a Dragon. Michael Farrell wasn’t done. Not even close to it.
He slid lower, settling between her legs. She felt his cock slip across her cleft, a stroke that drew a moan from her lips and left her aching for the touch of his manhood.
Kisses trailed down her throat again, tracing a path to the swell of her breasts. Dakota arched her back as his mouth closed around her nipple, sucking. His tongue circled, teasing, lashing that tender spot. Under his playful mouth, her nipple stiffened and came alive.
One arm held him up, so that his weight remained a delightful prison, pinning her, holding her, as he drew her lust higher. The other hand caressed her side, her hip. It cupped the globes of her buttocks, squeezing them, claiming them. Then it slipped lower, curling over her thigh to steal between her legs.
She gasped as pleasure blazed at that soft, stealthy touch brushing against her pubic hairs. Her fingers clutched his shoulders and for one moment, she feared that it would be too much. That the desire consuming her would end too soon, in some lesser release.
As if he could sense how close she rode to the edge, Michael eased back. His hand stole away, leaving her most secret parts to play along her legs, her buttocks.
But it was too late to move slowly. The lust that consumed her would no longer be denied, or delayed. Thoughts and plans dissolved, melting under the blazing rapture. Moans escaped her, hungry, animal cries of need.
A need he shared. Pushed to the limits, his control buckled, and he surrendered to his own fierce desire.
With a swift thrust, Michael entered her. His cock, hard and swollen, filled her, sending a wave of pleasure rushing over her. Dakota wailed, lost in the throes of her pleasure.
One after another, the strokes came. Each fanning the bonfire that blazed inside her. Each driving her deeper into ecstasy. Michael’s masterful control dissolved under the force of that passion and he, too, cried out with his need. Their voices joined, urged each other on, until, at last, with a final moan, he came. That cry, and the feel of him exploding within her, pushed Dakota over the edge. Pleasure swept over her, waves of ecstasy that consumed all thought.
Panting, Michael rolled to Dakota’s side. She lay beside him, savoring the glow of their union, wishing it would never end.
“Michael,” she whispered, “that was…”
Before she could finish, the dream around her dissolved.
Dakota woke in her own bed, alone.