The Island Of Dragons: A Paranormal Shifter Romance (7 page)

Standing mere inches from him and his lightly-tanned, strong-jawed face, I spoke first. “I just came here to say thank you for the ballet shoes. Nothing more. That’s it. Just thank you.”

It was only then that I realized that if that was
really
all I’d wanted to say to him, I surely could have texted that message.

With his muscular arms folded across his chest, Warren dipped his head in a nod, making his dark hair glint in a shaft of sunlight slanting across the stone-floored foyer. “You’re welcome.”

There was a long pause, and we both just stood, looking into each other’s eyes. The act had the effect of making my pulse pound, and the next words out of my mouth just tumbled right out.

“Look. I know you have some issues from being betrayed in the past. But why can’t you just believe me? Why can’t you just accept that I’m not a spy? Why do you have to keep on being such a... well, such an asshole about it?”

Warren lifted his dark brows just a degree. “Can I ask
you
something? Where did you ever get such a rude, naughty little mouth?”

I stood sputtering briefly. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is swearing in this village illegal now?”

“Actually, yes, because I just made it so. And now you must be punished.”

Heart hammering in my ears, I suddenly couldn’t even sputter anymore.

I stood speechless for a second before responding. “Excuse me?”

Warren spoke in a calm, commanding voice. “I think you heard me just fine. Now you must be punished.”

*

At least two seconds went by before I found my voice.

“What do you mean by ‘punished?’ What are you going to do to me?”

Still standing mere inches away from me, close enough that I could detect a hint of his masculine, woodsy scent, Warren lifted his strong shoulders in a shrug. “Well, that’s up to you. See, you have two different choices for your punishment.”

With butterflies suddenly rioting in my stomach, I spoke in a barely-audible voice. “What are they?”

“Choice one is being locked in the dungeon beneath my castle for a period no shorter than twenty-four hours. Choice two is a punishment lasting not nearly as long.”

I spoke in a near-whisper once again. “And that would be?”

“Choice two would be you letting me take you in my arms and kiss your soft, sweet lips, like I’ve been wanting to do since the very first time we spoke. You submit to this punishment for a full minute, and after that, your punishment will be over, and you’ll be free to walk away, fully punished for having such a rude little mouth. That’s punishment two.”

Warren paused, and I noticed that his breathing was becoming a little fast.

“So, which will it be, Miss Eleanor Christine Elizabeth O’Brien, esquire? Do you choose to spend the next night and day locked in my dungeon, or do you choose to submit to being held and kissed by me for one full minute?”

My brain, mouth, and vocal cords seemed to work completely on their own.

“I choose punishment two. Just because I know it won’t faze me at all, and the minute will be over quick enough.”

Truthfully, of course, I had serious, serious doubts that a minute in his arms wouldn’t faze me, but my mouth had still said what it had.

With his dark eyes glassy, Warren suddenly pulled me into his strong arms and spoke in a voice low and husky. “All right, then. Your punishment begins right now.”

The moment his lips connected with mine, I moaned softly, realizing that I’d wanted him to kiss me since the day I’d woken up in the hospital. He kissed me slowly at first, gently, but soon with increasing intensity, his mouth firm and warm. Moaning softly again, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he moved his hands to the small of my back, growling.

I didn’t want my punishment to end. At least, not until I’d experienced the release I realized I was desperate for.

So, having to force myself to do so, I broke our kiss after a minute or two and spoke in a voice thick with desire. “Wherever your bedroom is... please take me there.”

I didn’t need to ask Warren twice. With his breathing fast and ragged, he scooped me up and carried me up the two flights of stairs to his third-floor room, kissing me all the way.

Within mere moments of us entering his spacious stone-walled bedroom, fingers and clothes were flying. We undressed each other, though when Warren seemed to be having slight trouble unclasping the little hook at the front of my bra, I did it for him, impatient then.

When I stood in the waning sun, completely nude, he raked his gaze over the length of my body, nearly panting. “Stunning. Beyond stunning. There’s actually no word strong enough.”

Pressing his rock-hard erection against the soft curve of my belly, he cupped my breasts and began slowly circling my stiffened nipples with his thumbs, making me throw my head back, sighing with pleasure. But soon I wanted more, much more, and I began pulling down his boxer-briefs, which were the only article of clothing he was still wearing.

He helped me along with the task, then stepped out of them and stood, revealing his well-above-average-sized manhood, which was long and so thick I doubted I’d be able to close my fingers around it. But, of course, I felt compelled to try, and I proved my suspicions correct, making Warren draw in a sharp intake of air with his eyes rolling back in his head.

I stroked him slowly, rhythmically, seeming to increase his own desire as well as my own. After a short while, we were both nearly gasping for breath, and I stopped in my action and began backing up to his four-poster bed, leading him along with my hand still wrapped around his rod.

“Now. Please make love to me.”

He scooped me up once again and set me on the bed, then positioned himself between my legs, on his knees. The very last rays of the sun made his naked body almost seem to glow, and I thought that he looked like some sort of expertly-sculpted bronze statue. Whimpering with desire, I gripped his hips, reveling in the feel of his smooth skin, while he took his thick pole in one hand and began teasing my slick feminine lips apart with the head of it. I moaned, anticipating the sensation of being completely filled by his hardness.

He didn’t enter me right away, however. First, he stroked my most sensitive spot with the head of his shaft until I my moans became so frequent the sound was almost more of a throaty, extended cry. Only then did he slide into me, finally filling me with every inch of his granite-hard length.

I soon became lost in a world of complete erotic bliss while he worked himself in and out of my slickness with slow powerful thrusts, hovering above me, grunting. With my senses seeming to be heightened, I breathed in his clean, woodsy scent, filling my nostrils with it, becoming pleasantly dizzy from it.

Presently, almost without even being aware of the action, I slid a hand between my thighs and began stroking my throbbing feminine bud, eager to increase my pleasure even further.

Without pulling himself out of me, Warren rose up to his knees and began watching the action of my fingers intently. “So, so gorgeous. Please don’t stop.”

I didn’t, and after hiking my legs up on his chest, he resumed thrusting his thick pole deep inside of me while still on his knees, periodically looking into my eyes for a moment or two while he did so.

A while later, we both shuddered with release at nearly the exact same time, our sweat-slicked bodies feeling to me as if they were merging into one. Grinding my head back into a stack of fluffy white pillows with my eyes shut, I literally saw stars.

Shortly after, Warren collapsed to his side beside me and took me in his arms as the first shadows of twilight began creeping along the bedroom walls.

Twining my fingers with his, I looked into his eyes while suppressing a smile. “You don’t really have a dungeon beneath the castle, do you?”

A rakish half-grin slowly curved his mouth.

“No.”

Almost immediately, the two of us fell into the deep sleep of the profoundly satisfied.

***

I awoke maybe not even a half-hour later, horrified. Now that the rosy glow of lovemaking had worn off, I could not believe what I’d done. I’d slept with my captor. I’d slept with a man who thought I was a spy. I’d slept with a man who didn’t trust me. I felt disgusted and angry, with myself most of all.

With all gentleness and slowness so as not to wake Warren, I lifted his arm from my shoulders and noiselessly rolled out of bed. After stealthily collecting my clothes and throwing them on, I crept out of the bedroom and dashed down the hallway to the stairs.

It wasn’t even fully dark out yet when I emerged from Warren’s castle. The sky was a soft shade of dove gray tinged with lavender.

Hugh, who was lounging with his back against a palm, cigar in one hand and a book in the other, seemed to startle a bit when he saw my face. “Everything okay?”

I shook my head, stomping past him. “No. I made a huge mistake. And right now...” I paused, blinking back a few sudden tears. “Right now, I just want to be completely alone to think. Not in my castle. I need a view. I just need something peaceful to look at, because I feel like I just want to scream.”

He’d caught up with me and was now looking at me with evident concern in his eyes. “Well, where—”

“Please fly me up to the top of the Great Hill and then just leave me for a while. Don’t you dare try to insist on coming up with me or anything because I’m still a prisoner. I just really need to be alone right now.”

I didn’t want Hugh to be anywhere near when my tears finally spilled down my cheeks, which I knew was soon going to happen. I just wanted privacy to have a good cry for the second time that evening.

Hugh didn’t argue with me. Like my own private jet, he simply shifted into dragon form, flew me up to the top of the Great Hill. Then he flew back down again after briefly shifting into human form to tell me that he’d be waiting just down at the base of the hill, ready for me to call down for another lift when I was ready.

The top of the hill was quiet in the gloom, with the only sound being a soft rustling as a warm breeze blew through a few areas of some sort of tall tropical grass. But soon, this sound was joined by another, which was the sound of my crying. Sitting on a fallen palm like a bench, I buried my face in my hands, sniffling, with my heart feeling as if it had been broken.

I’d done it to myself. I hadn’t had to play Warren’s little “punishment game,” and I
had
known that it was a game. I’d let myself. I’d just let myself, despite the fact that I’d known full well that I shouldn’t. It wasn’t right for me to sleep with a man who viewed me as a possible enemy of his people, and now I had to live with the fact that I’d all but ran skipping into bed with him.

Presently I became aware of some faint, almost imperceptible noise, in addition to the rustling of the tropical grass and my crying. It was something like a repeated soft thud. Or, maybe it was even more like a boom, but a very distant one.

Vaguely curious, I opened my eyes and surveyed the miles of jungle beneath the hill. And what I saw instantly made me jump several inches off the palm trunk, screaming.

*

Bizarrely, the thing that had made me scream had brought me back to my childhood. I’d had a good friend named Allison, who was Jewish. Somewhat of a curious kid, I’d liked learning about her culture and religion, and I’d often asked her questions about different Jewish stories and myths. And once, she’d told me one about ancient creatures-slash-
things
called golems.

In Jewish legend, golems were enormous figures of clay, and sometimes stone, that were brought to life by magic. Then sometimes, if they were evil golems, as most were, they’d tear through cities, smashing and killing as they went along. These golem things weren’t just Jewish things, either. Supposedly, according to Allison, there could be golems in cities of all possible cultures and religions, all across the globe.

Maybe being only seven or eight years old, I’d been a bit scared by this story and had asked Allison for reassurance that that was all it was --- just a story. She’d giggled and said of course it was, and that only “babies” believed golems were really real.

Now sitting on top of the Great Hill at twenty-seven years old, I certainly wasn’t a baby. But I definitely believed that golems were real. I couldn’t
not
. Because at present, one of them appeared to be stomping out from the area of the lake, heading straight for Knight’s Shore. Each movement it made caused the slightest of tremors to ripple through the ground beneath my feet.

As far away as it was, and as dark as the night had become, I wouldn’t have been able to see it except that its body, which appeared to be made up of huge boulders, was lit from within with a strange, eerie green glow. It was moving fast. Very fast. I figured it had to be covering at least ten meters of ground with each rapid, tremor-inducing step. It would arrive at the village within minutes.

I knew that by the time everyone realized what was happening and actually saw the golem, it might be too late for Warren and his men to avert a complete disaster and massive loss of life. Cringing, I pictured the golem charging into the village, smashing castles with its huge fists of boulders. I knew if there was to be any real advance warning of his coming, it would have to be from me.