Chapter Ten
Abigail saw the heat in Vasili’s eyes as he reached out to her. She could have pulled back, could have stopped him. She knew without a doubt he’d never take what wasn’t freely given.
But she didn’t want to stop. She threw herself into his arms, confident he would catch her. There was so much she still didn’t know, about Vasili and about drakons. She’d overheard things when she’d been held by the kidnappers, seen things that should be impossible but weren’t. Nic and her sister had told her little, and honestly, she hadn’t asked. She’d been so focused on getting away, on running from her problems, she hadn’t taken the time to understand their situation better.
Now she wished she had.
It didn’t matter that Vasili was part man and part dragon. She wanted him with an intensity that should scare her witless. Maybe the bracelet was affecting their emotions, churning up the heat between them, but she didn’t think so.
It may have brought them together, but the rest was purely them. Their chemistry was off the charts.
His lips, firm and full, touched hers, and she lost herself in the heat of their embrace. He clasped his hands on her hips and slid them over her torso, up to her shoulders. She was still wearing her coat.
He broke their kiss long enough to remove it and toss it onto the opposite bunk with her bag. She had no idea how they were going to make love in such a cramped space. There was certainly nowhere for Vasili to stretch out. He was much too big for the sleeping platforms.
“So lovely.” He touched her cheeks and tenderly drew the pads of his fingers along the curve of her jaw. “Like cream.” He dropped light kisses where his fingers had touched. Abigail was overheated. Her clothing was suddenly too tight.
“Vasili.” It came out as a half moan, half whisper. He slipped his hands beneath her sweater and found her bare skin.
“Hmm.” He lifted the garment upward, and she raised her hands above her head, allowing him to remove it. The fabric briefly hooked in the bracelet, reminding her of how this entire situation began.
Then he was staring at her, and it didn’t matter how they met, only that they had.
She should have felt awkward sitting on his lap facing him naked from the waist up except for her bra. They were on a train cabin, hurtling down the tracks toward Omsk. Two virtual strangers who were strangers no more. They’d been through too much together.
Vasili was a part of her now. No matter what happened, he owned a piece of her heart. There was a connection between them that went far beyond the magic of the bracelet that had brought them together. It was as though their meeting had been predestined, if one believed in such things as fate.
So many things had to have happened for them to be in that exact place at the same time. The logistics were mindboggling. No, they were meant to meet. She knew it in her heart.
Vasili trailed his fingers down her arms and back up again. She dug her nails into his shoulders for stability as she swayed, both from the movement of the train and the excitement of his touch.
“Let me love you.” He hooked his fingers under the shoulder straps of her bra.
It was now or never.
“Yes.” She wanted this as much as he did. Maybe more. There was so much heat between them, and she’d been so cold for what seemed like forever, even though it had only been a matter of months since the kidnapping.
She’d almost died, and more than once. If she didn’t seize this opportunity, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. Maybe her lifespan wouldn’t be all that long. She, unlike a lot of people, knew evil lurked in the shadows every single day, and that evil could find them. And even though Vasili was a drakon, it was impossible to know what might happen.
But right now, they were both alive, and they were together. Life was too short to waste.
She expected him to pounce with her agreement, but his only reaction was a slight widening of his eyes, a deepening of their icy-blue color. Then a low rumbling sound came from his chest as he slowly eased the straps down her shoulders, the pads of his fingers caressing her skin as he went. Goose bumps raced down her arms.
The bra was plain white and nothing fancy. It was meant for comfort, not seduction, but you’d never say that from the rapt expression on Vasili’s face. He took his time, as though unwrapping a much-anticipated present.
When the thin cups finally slipped away, exposing her breasts, she sucked in a breath. Vasili bent his head and inhaled deeply, nuzzling both mounds. He was smelling her, and she imagined she was none to fresh after all the running and traveling she’d done.
He raised his head, and his eyes were practically glowing. Or maybe they were. She really had no idea what was normal for a drakon.
“Give yourself to me.”
She frowned, sensing a deeper meaning to his words. She’d already agreed to make love. “Vasili?”
His shoulders tensed, and beneath her, his thighs became as hard as rocks. His big body began to shake.
“Vasili, what’s wrong?” She ran her fingers through his thick hair, pushing some of the silky brown strands away from his face.
“I need you.” The stark look in his eyes spoke of years of loneliness and touched her heart. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to live for so long, people not knowing who or what you really were. Vasili had no one. And he needed her.
No one had really needed her before, not even her beloved sister. Constance was independent and had taken care of Abigail for all her life. Now her sister had Nic. Abigail admitted she’d been feeling lonely and sorry for herself lately, not exactly something she was proud of, but emotions often weren’t rational.
But this—his need for her—filled a hole deep in her heart and soul. It was as though only she could give him what he needed. Whether that was true or not, it made her feel stronger and more complete than she had in a long time.
“I’m yours.” Her compassionate heart wouldn’t allow her to reply otherwise. Her mind might argue it was too soon to fall in love, but her heart cried out the truth. No matter how long their time together, no matter what happened, Vasili was the only man she would ever love.
She might not know the details of where he lived or what he did for a living, other than some vague reference he’d made to buying and selling artifacts. She’d didn’t know if he preferred coffee or tea, liked sports, what books he’d read, or the million other details that made up a relationship, but she did know she connected with him on a deep level that made all that other information seem unnecessary. There would be time to learn it later, she hoped. But right now, they were here, and they needed one another. Nothing else mattered.
She leaned forward and kissed him. She meant for it to be a soft, comforting kiss. She should have known better. It was like a nuclear explosion when their mouths touched, destroying all rationality and thought.
Need pumped through her veins, spreading down her arms and legs, pooling between her thighs.
Vasili cupped the back of her head in one of his big hands, tilted it to the side, and kissed her back. He stole her breath and gave her back his. His tongue stroked hers. And when she boldly thrust hers into his mouth, he sucked on it.
His hands were everywhere. Her bra, which had still been hooked around her torso, was suddenly gone, and she had no idea how. She was much too busy running her hands over the hard muscles of his chest, shoulders, and biceps. There wasn’t an ounce of spare fat on the man. She’d never seen a man as ripped as him outside a fitness magazine.
The tattoos enthralled her. The swirling birthmark that proclaimed him a drakon was richer in color then the manmade ink. The marking was vibrant, almost alive, the pale blue, almost white design outlined in the same icy-blue of his eyes. The other tattoos were varied in design and color, each a talisman to keep him safe.
That he’d even thought to do such a thing spoke to his intelligence and cunning. Not to mention the tattoos were downright sexy.
She leaned forward and kissed the one just above his right pectoral. It was a wide, banded circle with some kind of writing inside the band. Within the circle were lines radiating out from a central point.
She easily recognized some of the symbols inked on his body, such as the holy cross and the Star of David. There were runes running down his right arm. She couldn’t identify them, but she’d seen enough Viking shows on television to know what they were. Some of the symbols even looked Egyptian. But she had no idea what many of them were. She did know she could spend hours exploring every inch of his bare skin.
One second she was on his lap, the next flat on her back on the bunk with him kneeling beside her. He moved so fast, it left her breathless. He plumped her breasts in his hands, leaned down, and lapped at one nipple, drawing the tip into a taut nub. Then he did the same with the other.
Her skin tingled, and heat radiated from her breasts to the rest of her body. The sensation was almost so overwhelming it bordered on painful but never crossed the line. She never wanted him to stop.
Abigail hadn’t thought her breasts particularly sensitive before. Obviously, all she’d lacked was the right lover.
With the vibration of the train beneath her and Vasili above her, Abigail was alive in a way she never had been before. Her senses seemed sharper. She noticed the thick, dark lashes of his amazing eyes, the hard structure of his facial bones, and the softness of his hair against her skin. But mostly, she noticed the roughness of his tongue as he stroked it over her straining nipples.
Each sensation seemed magnified a hundred times.
He left her breasts and kissed a path down her stomach all the way to the button of her jeans. He paused and looked up at her as he slowly undid it. She blinked, not sure if she’d truly seen a whiff of smoke around his head or if it was nothing more than her imagination.
When he continued to wait, Abigail reached down and slowly pulled the tab of the zipper. The metallic sound could be heard above the noise of the train.
…
Vasili had seen the Seven Wonders of the World. He’d traveled through every continent, seen the best that nature and mankind had to offer from every culture around the world for the past four thousand years. But nothing, nothing compared to the sight of Abigail sprawled across a narrow train bunk lowering the zipper of her jeans.
He’d often questioned the existence of a deity, considering the state of the world, but he was rethinking his position on the matter. Surely this moment was proof there was some higher force in the universe.
He wanted to roar and pound his chest. He wanted to empty his treasury and lay the most exquisite gems at her feet. He’d give her anything. Anything.
He suddenly wished he had a drakon tear, even one to give her. But he had none.
“Take off my boots.”
He almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. In his mind, he was offering her jewels and power. In reality, all she wanted was for him to remove her boots.
He quickly undid the laces and pulled them off. She groaned and flexed her toes. They’d been on the run for hours, first hiding in the basement of the church and then cooped up in the back of a truck. He knew women, knew she had to be feeling less than her best. He sought to reassure her.
“You are beautiful,” he told her as he slipped his hands into the opening she’d made in her jeans and slid them down her hips. She lifted her ass, making it easier for him.
Her smile was self-conscious. “I know I’m a little ripe right about now.”
Yes, he could smell the sweat from her skin, mingling with her deodorant, soap, and whatever lotion she’d used. But beneath all of that was the sweetest scent of all—her arousal.
He nuzzled her mound through the thin fabric of her underwear. Like her bra, it was plain white cotton—functional not fashionable. He inhaled the combination of her musk and sweet flesh. “Delicious,” he assured her.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, making him moan. He wanted to lie back on his giant-size bed at home and let her touch him for hours. He’d seen the way she’d looked at and stroked his tattoos. It was all too easy to imagine her running her fingers over every single one of them.
His cock threatened to burst the front of his jeans. The damn thing was growing more and more impatient with each passing second. No way was he releasing it until the last second. Once he opened his jeans, he knew he wouldn’t last.
He caught the band of her underwear between his teeth and tugged. Once again, she lifted, making it easier on him to undress her. He stroked his hands over her slim thighs and calves. When he finally had her naked, he sat back on his haunches and simply stared at the vision she made.
She wasn’t exactly sprawling on the bunk. There simply wasn’t enough room. There was a rough blanket beneath her and nothing covering her. Her short hair was like a golden halo around her head. Her slender neck gave way to the gentle slope of her shoulders. Her arms were long and slim, but there was strength there as well. Her chest was full, the tips of her breasts rosy and ripe, rising and falling with each breath she took.
Her waist dipped inward, and her hips flared out. His gaze continued downward to her mound and the thatch of pale hair that covered it. She moved her legs restlessly and bent one of her knees upward.
He caught the limb and pushed it back down. “Don’t. Let me see you.”
She lowered it and let him look his fill. His heart pumped hard in his chest, and his lungs expanded with each breath he took. He met her gaze. “You are mine.”
He waited to see if she would object. He knew times had changed. Women were independent. And while he had no problem with that, even admired it, there was a part of him that was far more primitive.
She belonged to him, and he belonged to her.
“You are mine.” She gave his words back to him, and his dragon, which had been restless for centuries, practically purred. He wanted to be claimed by her. Wanted to belong to someone in this godforsaken world. Needed a reason other than the gaining of knowledge and wealth to occupy his days.
Abigail would give him purpose, a reason to carry on. But mostly, he wanted her love.
“I am,” he told her. He arched one brow and waited.
“I am,” she repeated.
He knew she truly didn’t understand what she was agreeing to, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t felt lonely until he’d met her. Hadn’t understood the depths of his emptiness until she was suddenly here, pouring into every crevice and canyon of his being.
“Abigail.” Such a perfect name for such a perfect creature.
He pushed one of her legs up so her knee moved toward her chest and then pushed it outward, opening her to him. A delicate pale-pink color spread across her cheeks, but she didn’t stop him, which was a good thing. At this point, he wasn’t sure he could.
He got his first glimpse of her sex. The folds were swollen and slick with need. He moved closer and trailed his tongue up one side and down the other, skipping the most sensitive part at the apex.
She groaned and flexed her hips, trying to get him to touch her where she wanted.
Instead, he set about tormenting her, sensually torturing them both. He tasted and sucked and licked with abandon. Abigail gripped his hair in one hand and the edge of the bunk with the other. She slipped her leg out of his hold and draped it over his shoulder instead. He liked that, a lot.
Using one of his fingers, he tested her core, sliding inward. She moaned and arched up, taking all of it. He added a second one, stretching her. She was so tight, so perfect. Her arousal coated his fingers, the intoxicating scent filling the air in the small compartment until there was nothing else but Abigail’s pleasure.
“Vasili.” She could barely speak, was panting hard. He wanted more. He wanted to see her pleasure, taste it.
He cupped one of her breasts and ran his thumb across the hard tip. He pushed two fingers deep into her core and, at the same time, found the little nub of nerves at the apex of her sex. When he pressed his tongue against it, she went wild, bucking against him.
She was so close. He could feel it, taste it.
He raised his head long enough to look at her. “Give it to me,” he demanded. Then he dove back in, licking and sucking the bud of her clit, sliding his fingers in and out of her wet heat.
She arched back, her entire body going stiff. He felt the rush of her release, heard the thin cry of pleasure, and tasted the decadent sweetness of her orgasm. Her limbs began to tremble as he drew out her pleasure as long as possible.
Finally, he released her and licked his lips.
She’d thrown one arm over her face and was panting hard. Vasili unzipped his pants while enjoying the rise and fall and swaying of her breasts. His cock sprang forward, ready and eager.
Her arm slid away, and Abigail stared at him. Her eyes were unfocused, her lips still moist from their earlier kisses. A bead of sweat trickled from her temple and disappeared into her hair.
When she licked her lips, he groaned. He rose but kept his head low, not wanting to smack it against the shelf above the bed. He put one knee on the bunk and kept his other foot on the floor.
It was a tight fit, but he managed to maneuver himself so the head of his cock was positioned at her opening.
In spite of his earlier worry of not being able to stop, he froze. “Abigail.” He could not go further without her agreement.
She tilted her hips upward and looped her arms around his neck.
Vasili breathed a sigh of relief. She was tight, squeezing his cock as he forged his way inward. It was pure agony and absolute heaven to work his way in one slow inch at a time.
She made a sound that was a cross between pain and pleasure, and he froze.
“Don’t stop,” she told him. “I want this. I want you.”
At her admission, he lost all sense of control and slammed his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. He saw stars as her wet heat clasped his cock, squeezing it. His arms shook.
Abigail gasped and dug her fingers into his biceps, her short nails jabbing into his skin.
“Did I hurt you?” he managed to ask. Thinking was difficult. Hell, breathing was difficult, but he’d never forgive himself if he had hurt her. He wanted Abigail to experience nothing but pleasure, never pain. He had a feeling her short life had been filled with more than enough hardship.
She shook her head. “Full,” she gasped.
He was finding it hard to talk, too. He’d had women over his long lifetime. Too many to count or remember. But nothing had ever come close to what he was feeling right now, right here with Abigail.
In a cramped railcar cabin with not even a proper bed, Vasili finally understood what it meant to make love to a woman. He’d had sex, he’d cared for his partners, sometimes deeply, but this was different.
Abigail made him weak.
Some drakons might see that as a threat. He’d once heard a legend of a dragon who killed the woman he loved and then went mad, crying until his tears created the greatest diamond mine in the world. Finally, the dragon had turned to stone, becoming the very mountain itself. It was a human legend, but it could very well be real.
Yes, she made him vulnerable, but Vasili also understood what a gift she was. She gave him purpose, meaning.
His cock was throbbing, pulsing in time as the inner walls of her sex rippled around him. He groaned and began to move. There wasn’t much room, so his thrusts were quick and shallow. Not that it mattered. He’d barely started when his balls tightened. He gritted his teeth, but there was nothing he could do to stop his impending release. It shot up the length of his shaft and out the tip. He groaned and buried his face against her neck, covering her with his big body.
Beneath him, she shivered and shook and cried out again. Her orgasm rippled around his cock, extending his own.
“What? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
He hadn’t realized he was speaking until she questioned him.
Probably just as well, since he was basically promising her anything and telling her he was never going to let her go. Yeah, best to wait a bit on that. He didn’t want to overwhelm her any more than he already had.
He raised himself slightly and kissed her. “You are incredible.” He loved the way she blushed when he said things like that. He was reminded that she was so very young, especially in comparison to him. But for all that, she was still a woman. His woman.
“You are okay?” he asked. His accent was thicker than usual, and he had a harder time finding words, even though he’d been speaking English for hundreds of years.
She rubbed her nose against his in a playful gesture that warmed his heart. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had played with him, but it had to be at least two thousand years, maybe longer. Even when people didn’t know what he was, they recognized he was dangerous and kept a respectful and cautious distance.
“I’m perfect.”
“You certainly are,” he told her with all honesty.
That made her laugh, and she patted his cheek. She glanced toward the window where the weak winter sun was shining in. “How long will it take us to get to Omsk?” she asked, even though he’d already told her.
“Hours and hours and hours,” he assured her. His cock was already hard again. It had never actually gone down. He was a drakon, not a man. He didn’t need time in order to recover.
When she smiled at him, he leaned down and kissed her, ready to show her just how creative he could get in such a small space.