DarykHunter (12 page)

“I’ll say.”

It was almost as if he described himself. This man was definitely a part of his world, a part of what he’d described. Perhaps that explained why he frightened her and yet made her feel so protected. It made no sense.

Scullidig Inn’s sign creaked as it moved back and forth in a sudden strong wind. The wind was cold, an unusual feeling after such humid heat. At two stories tall, the inn dominated the other buildings. Made of stone and wood, the building nevertheless had a strange, lopsided look, as if it had been made inch by inch without benefit of a good design. At the same time the disorganized appearance gave it a coziness that screamed safe haven. She hoped so.

Dane sheathed his sword, releasing her long enough to open the front door. It squeaked loudly, and she winced. The downstairs was rough, with a tavern area directly to the left where several loud male customers drank and laughed. Lamps and torches here and there assured the place was brightly illuminated. The other patrons didn’t pay attention to either Dane or herself. To the left was a sitting area with benches and tables. Directly ahead of them was the staircase. From behind the staircase came a large man wrapped in a vest made of rough, dark material, the armholes circled by some type of fur. His trousers seemed to be made of the same material. His bushy, frizzy blond hair was cut short, and he wore an equally untamed-looking long beard.

The man smiled brightly, welcome true in his blue eyes, and he walked toward them. “Damn. Is that you, Dane Charger?”

“Scullidig.” Dane shook the man’s hand. “Been awhile. See you haven’t fixed that squeaky door yet.”

The man snorted. “Why would I do that? No other way to hear when someone’s coming inside. And who is this fine woman?”

“My mate.” Dane said the words with complete assurance, and she almost contradicted him. Instead she kept her mouth shut. She was too tired to argue right now. “Ketera Aldrancos.”

“Pleased to meet you, my lady.” Scullidig extended his hand and she shook it.

“Honored to meet you…Scullidig.”

The big man, who stood even taller than Dane, laughed. “It’s Manny Scullidig, but don’t tell anyone.”

Dane smiled. “Yeah, his mama obviously didn’t like him.”

She lifted one eyebrow, her sense of humor still intact. “Manny is a perfectly nice name.”

The men laughed softly.

Scullidig’s eyes narrowed. “Here now, she’s been cut.” The man’s blond brows shot up and he gave Dane a narrow look. “How did that happen?”

Dane slipped his arms around her shoulders. “I just got her back from a slave trader. He hurt her.”

A glance at the men said they understood each other.

“By Draconus.” Scullidig looked genuinely concerned. “Well then, you must be tired and hungry. Now, what will it be? Food or bed or both?”

“Are you hungry?” Dane asked Ketera.

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Well I’m hungrier than a mooseswine.” Dane kept his arm around her. “Could one of the wenches bring us a platter of food right away?” He tossed coins to his friend. “Will this be sufficient?”

Scullidig gave his money back. “Your coin is no good in here, friend. Keep it.”

“But—”

“No good.” The blond man held his hand up. “No good.” He handed Dane a key. “Take room eight. It’s yours for as many nights as you need. Winderia will bring your food immediately.”

That’s when Ketera realized that she’d have to spend a night with Dane again. A man who’d killed for her, whose sexual prowess demanded gratification and whose eyes blazed sudden red. She knew instinctively what he’d want, and that scared her to bits.

“Scullidig?” she asked. “I’ll need my own room.”

Chapter Seven

Scullidig and Dane stared at her as if she’d gone mad.

She straightened her spine, which wanted to sag. “What is wrong?”

Scullidig started to speak, but Dane threw him a perturbed look. “Well, um, my lady…”

“Oh.” She put her hands on her hips. “You think because I’m his so-called mate I’m not interested in my own room?”

The blond man’s brusque attitude came to a complete halt, his mouth open.

Dane took her arm. “One room.”

He started to march her upstairs, but she pulled away. “Two rooms.”

Scullidig’s gaze danced from Ketera to Dane rapidly, as if assessing who would prove the least dangerous when he inevitably crossed one of them. “Sorry, my lady. There’s only one room left.”

With that, the innkeeper turned on his heel and disappeared into the common room.

All her gratitude slid away in an uncharacteristic desire to fight Dane all the way. She kept her voice low as she hissed out, “Why are you doing this? I need my own room.”

Dane’s jaw muscles worked, and she could practically hear his teeth grinding down to nubs. “You’ve never had your own room. Every man in the inn took a look at you when you walked in here.”

She took a defiant stance, placing her hands on her hips. “That is preposterous. They didn’t notice me at all.”

“They did. You just didn’t see it. You don’t seem to understand what a precious commodity you are to Dragonian men. And I’d rather not kill any more men tonight.”

Weary and tired of fighting, she decided that tonight she would let it go. They both had to be exhausted. What chance was there he’d try to seduce her? Not much.

She sighed. “All right. Only for tonight.”

Looking relieved, Dane led the way upstairs and located their room. Once inside, he locked the door. While she looked around at the small room, Dane pulled back one dingy red curtain and peered outside. The room had all the luxury she would have expected for a backwoods hole. The bed was clean enough, she supposed, but the tables were dusty and the wood flooring dented and scarred. Everything about the room, including the limp curtains covering two windows, gave an air of neglect.

Outside, she heard a loud roar, the sound both frightening and forlorn and she flinched. “What was that?”

“The cry of the carnalan bird. It’s nothing to be afraid of. They sound awful, but that’s their mating call. Let us hope he finds a mate soon tonight or there will be more of that raucous noise.”

Dane turned toward her and placed the key in one trouser pocket. The gesture brought her gaze straight back to a very prominent feature. His erection pressed against his trousers, just as it had earlier. She’d felt its pressure when he’d kissed her in the jungle, and the red hovering like a flickering flame in his eyes refused to depart.

She gestured toward him. “Are you going to be like that all night?”

Plain confusion crossed his face. “Like what?”

She gestured again, her fingers pointing but not actually pointing. “That…display of manhood that seems to always be on…display with you.”

Dane’s furrowed brow cleared as he glanced down at his trousers and laughed. The sound purred out of his throat, a smooth laugh that made her tingle in places she didn’t know could tingle.

“It won’t disappear unless I get relief. One way or the other.”

Curiosity overwhelmed her caution as she walked toward the bed. “One way or the other?”

With no regard for propriety, he lifted his tunic and revealed his trouser front. He started to unlace his placket.

She put her hand out. “No. I mean…this isn’t…”

“Comfortable?” He sneered then let his tunic drop back over trousers. “Do not worry. I wasn’t going to disrobe right now. I needed to lessen the pressure.” He cupped his erection with one hand. “I shake with lust, Ketera. If I do not fuck you soon, I will take matters into my own hand. Literally. And unless you plan to hide your face, you’ll have to watch.”

Her face flamed so quickly and so hotly, she put her hands to her cheeks. “By the god, Dane. You are so…so…”

He slowly walked toward her. “Wretched?” His voice held the rasp of velvet over skin, so silky and deep it called to everything most primal within her. Her heartbeat thumped with apprehension and anticipation, a combination so foreign to Ketera she wondered if she’d gone mad. “A beast? Because you make me feel this way, Ketera. And there isn’t any way to stop it. You aren’t in Magonia anymore, Ketera. You can’t live the way you did there, hiding from your real needs, your real emotions.”

He came to a halt not six inches from her, his cock now tenting his shirt and making it even more impossible to ignore. She gulped. “All right then. I’m not so cruel as to leave you uncomfortable.”

Those eyes flamed again, only this time the red was so hot she thought perhaps she was looking into Vendala, the star that warmed their planet and brought life each day. “Are you saying you’ll come to my bed?”

“No. I’ll cover my eyes and you can do what you must.”

A low purr, this one so low she wondered if he imitated a creature on this supercontinent that she’d never heard or seen before. Whatever the sound, it sent a fire licking over her skin, made her eager and itchy for something. What, she didn’t know. She dared take in his face, really looking for the first time all night. His mouth held disapproval in its carved lines, his stubbled jaw, intimidating and strong, his auburn hair tumbling over his shoulders in a thick cloud. Everything about him made her angry and yet filled with a yearning so strong it staggered her.

He reached below his tunic and freed his cock. She’d never seen his cock up close—she’d averted her eyes whenever the chance had presented itself before. This time she couldn’t ignore it.

While she had nothing to compare his manhood to, it fascinated her. The thick root grew from a patch of dark red hair, its length and breadth intimidating. Veins pulsed under his skin, and she wondered shamefully at the texture. What would it feel like to the touch? Would it honestly be that hard? He wanted to put that into her? Before she could protest that he couldn’t fit that instrument inside her body, he drew his hand up and down his cock.

“Winderia will be here soon…” She let her words drift off as enthrallment distracted her from a protest.

Ketera watched as he drew his hand up and down in a slow, pumping rhythm, his cock slipping in between his fingers in a steady movement. Between her thighs an answering thrum made her press her legs together. She ached in there. Ached where she knew he wanted to put this thick invader. Fascinated, she couldn’t look away. If she did she might burn in this desire forever. She wanted to know, as much as it shamed her Magonian sensibilities, what it meant for him to take care of his needs. There was no time for a bath, for eating, only a primordial release.

A knock sounded on the door. A scant moment later the door sprang open. A young woman with dark, long hair entered holding a tray laden with food and drink and balanced upon what looked like fresh clothing. She stopped cold, her gaze catching on Dane’s self-pleasuring.

To Ketera’s mortification, she couldn’t think of a thing to say and Dane didn’t stop.

“Oh,” the young woman said, her eyes wide. She smiled. “May I watch? I have never seen a Daryk One take his pleasure.”

Dane stared straight ahead, his attention plastered on Ketera. It was as if he didn’t know the young woman had entered the room.

“Get out.” Ketera wouldn’t allow this debauchery. “Leave the tray on the table.”

As Dane’s breath became more labored, a soft moan issuing through his throat, the woman placed the tray on the table near the window and the clothing on a chair. The woman returned to watching Dane. Her eyes, a shade so bright and violent blue, showed undeniable lust. Just like that, this woman wanted Dane.

I’ll be thrown to the god Magon first before this girl gets her hands on Dane.

She marched toward the woman, grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Get out.”

The young woman stumbled out the open door as Ketera slammed it behind her. To prevent any other surprise entries, she shoved a chair under the doorknob. The twit had opened without knocking. Such appalling manners.

Then she heard Dane working hard, groans issuing from his mouth almost painful sounding. Was he truly in pain? She turned around and continued watching his efforts. Heat washed over her again, but this time not from embarrassment.

Dane stared at Ketera rather than at his hand doing the work. Her gaze caught his, noted the blaze within and found herself captured in his eyes. As he stroked, the movement as hypnotic as it was sensual, a daze came over her. She tore her gaze from his, compelled to watch him stroke with ever-quickening movements. His big fist pumped, his breath quickened as it rasped between his lips. By the god, he was not like any man she’d known or imagined in any fantasy. His grip worked over his cock, smoothing the drop of moisture at the tip over the rest of his length. She ached, longing for something she didn’t understand, didn’t care if she was tired anymore. She wanted. Wanted so much for—

He growled, his head thrown back, eyes closed. His fist moved faster. Faster yet, until with a final loud cry he turned to the side and let forth a long spray of white liquid from the tip. He shuddered, his entire body going into a convulsion that would have sounded painful if she hadn’t seen the smile of relief passing over his face.

Without looking at her, he walked to the tray and snatched a cloth. He worked to clean the floor where he’d released his essence then cleaned himself. He tucked his cock back under his tunic, but to her surprise it stayed erect. Still astonished, she couldn’t think of a word to say. He picked up a slice of bread and stuffed it into his mouth. He ate with a ravenous quality that reminded her of an animal.

“Come. Eat.” He passed her a plate. “Scullidig is a good man. He sent us clothes too.”

“That was…” How could she say it? “What you did…that woman came in here and you let her watch. You kept on without a hint of concern.”

With a slow, beguiling smile, he said, “A Daryk One takes his pleasure as often as he can. And when his mate is unwilling, he will take it quickly and with great enjoyment in some other way.”

Jealousy raised its head and she winced. No. She couldn’t possibly be jealous.

He tore off a piece of white-looking meat, speared it with a fork and chewed quickly. “Once mated, a Dragonian never wants to be with another. That doesn’t mean I care if a woman watches.”