Chapter 3
As far as Nathaniel was concerned, this second meeting with Chloe had suddenly gone from precarious to dangerous as hell the moment Deryk made his appearance.
Nathaniel had barely been able to contain his anger when his brother swooped down with all the grace and stealth his golden dragon was capable of, to land just behind Chloe. If she had turned one second earlier than she had, she would have seen Deryk in dragon form rather than as the fully clothed man he had become, leaving them no choice but to eliminate her on the spot.
Further evidence of his brother’s instability of mind.
None of them had ever deliberately revealed their true self to a human. On the rare occasion it had happened accidentally, they’d had no choice but to kill that human to protect their secret.
It hadn’t been like this when they’d first come to Wales. The humans then had lived their lives at the will of the gods or seasons. It had been easier for people to accept the existence and presence of the creatures from Annwn.
But the humans of the past few centuries considered themselves educated and sophisticated, and consequently dismissed the existence of the creatures from age-old fairy tales. The few times the dragons’ existence had been discovered, the humans had reacted with hysteria that led to blood being shed.
It had happened during Victoria’s reign and resulted in a witch hunt—or rather, a dragon hunt. The Victorians were a bloodthirsty lot.
Their brother Rufus had perished during those years of being hunted. Dragons were hard to kill, but having their head chopped off with their own sword, brought with them from Annwn and blessed by the gods, was a sure way to do it.
After losing Rufus in that way, they had taken care to remain hidden away in Pendragon Castle, venturing out only when someone was in need of their protection.
Humans nowadays seemed to like the idea of the myth of the dragons’ existence. Numerous romance books had been published on the subject, as well as movies. But watching or reading about dragons, while sitting within the safety of their armchairs at home or in cinemas, was totally different from coming face-to-face with a real live fifteen-to-twenty-foot-high dragon capable of breathing fire and destroying everything in its path.
The twentieth and twenty-first centuries had also seen the appearance of airplanes, along with more and more sophisticated firepower that could actually follow those dragons in the air and shoot them down.
Even the possibility that Chloe might discover what they were would be enough for Deryk to decide she had to be eliminated. Eventually. His brother had already made it clear what his immediate plans were for Chloe.
Unfortunately, Deryk had Chloe’s scent now, meaning he could hunt her down whenever he felt like it. Whenever Deryk decided it was time to fuck and then kill her.
Mine, Nathaniel’s dragon demanded.
Which was precisely the reason Nathaniel hadn’t wanted to challenge Deryk with Chloe present. A challenge from him would have ended with the two of them changing in front of her, and therefore sealing her fate.
Deryk had once been the most civilized of them all, both courteous and kind. He would never have dreamed of taking a woman prisoner, let alone forcing his attentions on her. The closer Deryk came to being only dragon and losing his humanity forever, the more precarious his state of mind became.
Nathaniel needed to control this present situation, firstly by placing Chloe under his protection.
Chloe had watched quietly as myriad emotions flickered across Nathaniel’s face. The last, unfortunately, she recognized as resolve. “You really don’t have to do this,” she pleaded. “I’ll go down the mountain and return to London today, and I’ll never tell another living soul what you’re doing up here.”
He arched a dark brow. “And what are we doing up here?”
She shrugged. “I’m guessing, from the helicopters landing under cover of darkness, you must be bringing in drugs or illegal firearms.”
“Helicopters?” he repeated slowly.
Chloe nodded. “Several other visitors to the village mentioned having seen them landing in the castle grounds after dark.”
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened as he realized the adult humans, at least, had used their logical minds rather than a child’s imagination to explain the nighttime flights he and his brothers took in dragon form. They were able to control those sightings with the locals, but as more and more visitors began to visit the Welsh mountains, it was becoming increasingly difficult to shield themselves from all curious eyes. “Really?”
“Yes.” Her expression turned anxious. “Look, I promise I won’t breathe a word about the drugs or arms smuggling to anyone else, if you’ll only let me go.”
Nathaniel had thought the sighting of “helicopters” as being bad, but for Chloe to have assumed those aircraft were bringing in drugs or illegal firearms was wrong on so many levels.
She’s human, with a human’s logic and cynicism, he reminded himself. With the information Chloe had, what other conclusion could she have made about eight brothers holed up in a remote Welsh castle, with no visible means of supporting themselves, other than that they must be doing something illegal?
The opposite was true.
Fifteen hundred years plus was a very long time to be alive and have nothing to do to keep the boredom from sending them quietly out of their minds.
After the death of their human brother, they had become mercenaries for hire to any army fighting for justice and freedom. That occupation had necessarily changed titles over the years, but it was still them fighting the bad guys.
Grigor, their eldest brother, had solved the problem of what work they should do last century and this one by forming a security company, based at an office in London, and fronted by a receptionist who had absolutely no idea she was employed by dragons. The clients now came to them, and if they all agreed the job had merit, they would accept a hefty commission to carry out the necessary work.
They had been born during an age of chivalry and honor, and they still took those traits very seriously.
At least, they had. Deryk’s increasingly unstable behavior was seriously starting to jeopardize the integrity of all of them.
Who would be next, Nathaniel wondered. Grigor? Nathaniel, himself? Or one of their other brothers?
“Nathaniel, please!” Chloe had no idea what he was thinking about to make him scowl so darkly, but it didn’t bode well for her being allowed to leave. “I haven’t seen anything I shouldn’t, so my theory was merely conjecture,” she assured belatedly; she really should learn to keep her big mouth shut. “Your brother can’t just decide to take me prisoner.” Her voice rose on a note of indignation as Nathaniel made no reply. “People don’t just disappear.”
“I beg to differ,” he drawled. “People disappear all the time, sometimes involuntarily, but more often than not, voluntarily.”
He was right, they did. “But they don’t usually leave all their things behind at the inn they were staying at. The couple who run the inn will realize I’m missing when I don’t come back in time for dinner this evening,” she added desperately when Nathaniel’s expression remained unmoved by all her pleas.
She wasn’t telling the complete truth about the people at the inn. She had already eaten at the local pub once during her stay, and when she told the landlord of the inn of her intention, he had assured her it wasn’t necessary for her to inform them if she wouldn’t be there for dinner.
Nathaniel nodded. “I’ll call them, explain you’ve decided to become our guest for a while. I’ll also ask them to pack your things and have them brought up here.”
Bearing in mind all the questions Chloe had asked the past few days about the people at Pendragon Castle, and the winks and knowing looks she’d received for her curiosity, it wasn’t difficult to realize no one would have a problem believing she had chosen to become a guest at the castle.
She had no family to worry about her. Her mother had been killed in a car accident when Chloe was five, and her father had died of cancer two years ago.
She worked freelance, so she had no work colleagues to notice her absence either.
Too late, Chloe realized she had also told Keith it was completely over between the two of them during their telephone conversation this morning.
There was no one in her life, absolutely no one, who would realize she was missing.
Even the owner of her London apartment wouldn’t know she hadn’t come back from Wales until her rent didn’t arrive in his bank account on time. He would probably send out a reminder email, and when she didn’t reply to that, he would simply evict her belongings out onto the street and then re-lease her apartment to someone else.
She swallowed as her panic rose. “How long do you intend to keep me a prisoner?”
“That depends,” he answered guardedly.
“On what?”
“On why you were here and how much you know.”
“I told you, I don’t know anything.”
“You’ve already told me you think we’re guilty of something illegal.”
And by admitting that, Chloe knew she had placed all her cards on the table without leaving herself any sort of bargaining chip. “Kidnapping me will only make the situation worse,” she reasoned.
“Can it get any worse?”
It would be a lot worse if she ended up dead, yes. “You really don’t want to do this, Nathaniel.”
No, he really didn’t, Nathaniel acknowledged heavily. But far better he controlled this situation than have Deryk take matters into his own hands.
He reached out and took a firm hold of Chloe’s arm, and immediately felt that frisson of excitement coursing down his arm like an electric shock before centering on his cock.
What the hell was that?
Our fated mate? his dragon questioned eagerly.
Abso-fucking-lutely not!
“Just come with me— Ouch!” Nathaniel frowned darkly as Chloe landed a hefty kick to his shin with one of her walking boots, followed by another and then another. It didn’t hurt his toughened skin, was more of a surprise than anything, but the fact she was fighting him was further evidence of her feisty nature. “Stop that, before you hurt yourself,” he advised harshly.
“You and your brother are the ones who intend to hurt me,” she accused as she landed another kick to the same shin.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Why should I believe you?” She landed yet another kick.
“Because I don’t lie.”
She snorted. “I’m supposed to believe the word of a drug or arms smuggler?”
“Fine, we’ll do this your way.” Nathaniel placed a hand firmly against her back and the other about her thighs before hoisting her over one of his shoulders. She proceeded to pummel his back with her fists and scream obscenities at him as he strode toward the castle.
Nathaniel believed he had adapted well over the years to the change in the dynamics of human society. Most especially, he admired the women of the last century and this one for fighting and gaining their rights in so many areas that had previously been dominated by men.
Unfortunately, hearing those words come out of a woman’s mouth was not one of the things he had accepted or approved of.
“Stop using that language right now.” He landed a hard smack to her backside to accompany his words.
“Fucking bastard—” She broke off with a pained gasp as Nathaniel landed another smack, harder this time. “Stop doing that!”
“I’ll stop when you stop.”
“Bastard. Brute. Fucker. Pig.” Chloe had barely finished that last word before Nathaniel landed four smacks to her backside in quick succession. One for each curse she had used? “Shit. Bugger. Fuck.” Yep, she received another smack for each of those three words, tears stinging her eyes as the pain of them reverberated through her whole body.
But not only pain…
Chloe had never been into kinky sex, or anything remotely approaching the BDSM scene. She wasn’t into pain, full stop, either taking it or inflicting it. But she would be lying if she didn’t admit, to herself at least, that having Nathaniel spank her bottom had caused her nipples to harden and her pussy to heat, along with an increasing dampening of her panties to accompany the latter.
She was being carried off like a sack of potatoes so that these two men could hold her prisoner and do God knows what to her—although Deryk had been pretty explicit in what he wanted from her—and she was being turned on by having her bottom smacked? How screwed up was that?
Very, came the self-disgusted reply.
And now Nathaniel was running one of his large, very hot, and soothing hands over the flesh that same hand had abused. A heat and a sting Chloe could feel even through the denim material of her jeans. That caressing hand was causing yet more slick juices to gush between her thighs.
Nerve endings were sparking and igniting throughout the whole of Nathaniel’s body as he carried Chloe over his shoulder. Breathing her in only increased his arousal. He’d tried to stop breathing altogether at one stage, until his lungs complained at the lack of oxygen. Breathing in more deeply than ever due to that lack of oxygen had only made the situation worse. His cock was now fully engorged, thick and long as it strained against the front of his jeans.
The feel of her draped over his shoulder, along with each new breath saturated with Chloe’s scent, was causing his cock to demand attention. Release.
Nathaniel drew in a hissing breath as he felt the clawing of Chloe’s fingernails down his back through the material of his T-shirt. Something that was obviously meant to hurt him, but only succeeded in making his cock harder. Nathaniel was pretty sure it was going to actually burst open the zip on his fly any second now.
“Need any help?”
Nathaniel scowled at the amusement he heard in his brother’s voice the moment he stepped into the cavernous hallway carrying Chloe over his shoulder. A quick glance at the other man’s face reassured him the glow had faded from his brother’s eyes, indicating the danger had passed—thank God—and Deryk had his dragon under control again. For now, at least.
“No,” Nathaniel rasped, not wanting anything to set his brother off again. Touching Chloe, breathing in her aroused scent, was certain to do that.
Mine.
There was also that possessiveness of his dragon to take into consideration. For some reason, his dragon had decided Chloe was theirs, and another man or dragon touching Chloe was not to be tolerated.
“Bedroom or dungeon?”
“Dungeon,” Nathaniel stated; Chloe would be far too much of a temptation if he put her in his bedroom. He was nowhere near the breaking point Deryk was, but his own control wasn’t limitless. The dungeon would also keep her farther away from Deryk.
“You were serious about putting me in an actual dungeon?” Chloe repeated incredulously.
“It was built fifteen centuries ago, at the same time as the castle,” Deryk supplied mockingly.
“You have got to be kidding me!” she muttered disgustedly.
Deryk stepped around Nathaniel to bend down until his face was level with hers. “It even has chains on the wall we can attach your wrists and ankles to. Maybe we can even find some whips and a couple of paddles, as you seem to like having your ass smacked so much.”
“I don’t—”
“I can scent your arousal, little girl,” Deryk all but growled.
Nathaniel could imagine Chloe’s red-faced reaction to his brother’s sick humor at her expense. But he doubted Chloe knew Deryk was playing with her. Not when she believed the two of them to be involved in some form of illegal activity, and that they also probably intended to kill her at some point.
Besides, they hadn’t used those chains on the dungeon wall to secure anyone for a couple of centuries now.
Nathaniel wondered what Chloe would say if she knew they’d had this castle built for themselves, he and his brothers, all those centuries ago? She wouldn’t believe him, of course. No one would, not unless they actually saw their dragons, and that wasn’t going to happen.
“Bastard!” Chloe confirmed how seriously she was taking Deryk’s conversation as she spat the word in his face.
His brother straightened to glance at Nathaniel. “This one is going to be fun to break.”
“Give it your best shot,” Chloe challenged. “I’m tougher than you think.”
Deryk chuckled, but Nathaniel gave an inward groan. This woman really didn’t know when to shut up. Her defiant attitude was merely encouraging Deryk to continue to toy with her as he played on her fears. “Definitely the dungeon,” Nathaniel stated firmly as he turned in the direction of the steps leading down into the depths beneath the castle.
Chloe’s anger and bravado left her to be replaced by increasing fear as Nathaniel strode across the entrance hall, her attention caught and held by the suits of armor lining that hallway. Eight of them. Which was a bit of overkill, if you asked her. Most stately homes she’d visited had happily settled for one suit of armor in the hallway rather than eight.
They did look authentic, though, right down to the dents and scrapes on all of them. There were eight swords on the wall, too, one behind each suit of armor.
Chloe lost sight of the entrance hall as they went through a doorway and Nathaniel began to descend some stairs. Not wooden or carpeted ones, but stone steps that look as if they had been hewn out of the rock beneath the castle. The air chilled too the lower they went.
He really was taking her to a dungeon, was Chloe’s panicked realization.
How had this happened to her?
Why had this happened to her?
Her own curiosity and big mouth were responsible, she realized with a sinking stomach. Her need to chase a story down, no matter what the danger or consequences. Well, this time she had obviously seriously pissed off the wrong people. She shouldn’t have revealed her suspicions, of course; illegal drug and arms dealers weren’t known for the softness of their hearts. There was too much money at stake.
The only thing in Chloe’s favor at the moment was neither of these men knew she was a reporter. If they did, she doubted they would have even bothered taking her to a dungeon but would have killed her already.
Or maybe not.
No one would be able to see the blood spatters down here.
These thoughts really weren’t helping her already frayed nerves.
It became darker, and then darker still, colder too, the deeper they went, until the floor evened out and Nathaniel flicked a switch that turned on several lights along the rock-hewn corridor in front of him.
“What did you expect?” he mocked as he must have heard Chloe’s relieved sigh. “Lit torches?”
She ignored his sarcasm as she turned and lifted her head to see they were approaching what looked like a medieval torture chamber from the set of an old movie. Except this was far too real to be a prop in a movie. The front of the cell was iron bars from floor to ceiling, but the other three walls were more of that solid rock. Inside, there was only an iron bedstead and a bare mattress.
But it was the chains on the walls that held her attention as Nathaniel lowered her to the stone floor. “Please don’t leave me alone down here.” She grabbed hold of his arm as he turned to leave. “I don’t like being shut in confined and dark spaces.”
Chloe had been in the car during the accident that had killed her mother. It had been a dark winter night as they drove home from the supermarket that day, the roads slick with ice. The car had gone into a skid, her mother screaming at Chloe to hold on as the car spun round and round before hitting something with tremendous force.
Chloe had found out later it was an articulated truck, and their car had been squashed beneath it. Her mother had been killed instantly. Chloe had been trapped in the vehicle with her for hours while the firemen tried to cut them out of the mangled wreckage. Ever since then, Chloe had a fear of enclosed spaces, particularly small dark ones like this cell.
“Hand it over.”
“What?” The question became moot as she realized Nathaniel was looking at the backpack she still carried. Damn, she had been hoping to keep that, thought maybe there might be something inside that could help her escape. Instead, she reluctantly swung it off her shoulders and handed it to the patiently waiting Nathaniel.
“Empty your pockets.”
Double damn, her cell phone was in the front pocket of her jeans. Not that she thought she would be able to get a reception down here, but she would have felt less vulnerable knowing she had it. Besides, they couldn’t keep her in this dungeon forever, and she might have been able to telephone for help.
Instead, she was forced to hand her cell phone over to Nathaniel too. Along with her car keys from the other pocket. “Please—” She broke off the plea as she looked at him properly for the first time and realized he was no longer wearing those wraparound sunglasses.
His eyes were the green of clear cut emeralds.
Glowing eyes the color of clear cut emeralds.
In the same way Deryk’s eyes had earlier glowed that eerie gold…