Dragon Dawn: Season of the Dragon, #3

Awareness flowed in like an unwanted pest. At least if I was sleeping, I could ignore the rawness scraping my insides every time I looked at the arm draped over me like a protective blanket. I couldn’t shake the certainty that I had screwed up.

Darkness still reigned over the land like an iron fist. With it came nightmares, but those were nothing like the reality we now lived in. The streets of this once bustling city remained silent, except for the trembling steps of the monsters patrolling. Hunting for those of us who remained entrenched in our hiding places.

I glanced down at the hand entwined in mine and then over my shoulder at the sleeping dragon. Mikhail St. Clare. He was a sight to behold, gorgeous to a fault with his strong chiseled features. He towered over me at six five and two hundred pounds of solid muscle. And damn him. He was the epitome of a gentleman.

A gentleman who I betrayed in the worst of ways, and yet, he still protected me as if I were an innocent child, or a cherished love.

With my mind so restless, I wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight and the escape I had hoped for in sleep was anything but. Gently, I moved his arm and grabbed the dress I had been in yesterday before the shit hit the fan.

The soft fabric hugged my form as I padded to the living room window. When I glanced down, I expected to see hordes of leviathans crawling out of the river like in my dreams. But the streets were silent, as if God knew I needed a reprieve.

My gaze moved to the back of the couch, and I sighed. Despite scrubbing, there were still blemishes in the fabric. A reminder of the first man I killed yesterday. Troy. The asshole who compromised me and used me in an attempt to murder Mikhail. I forced my gaze away from that reminder. At least the floor had been wiped clean of all traces of death.

I glanced toward Mikhail’s library. He had returned the katana back there, to where it had been stored, after he removed the blood and polished the steel to a fine shine, as if it had never decapitated four men. That had been the last thing he did before we washed up and fell into the bed.

Everything had been done in silence and any time I looked at him, a crease was set between his eyes, as if he were deep in thought. I couldn’t speak because if I opened my mouth, vomit would have been added to the mix of blood and gore. Cleaning up after my own murder spree had not been a catharsis for me. Instead, it slammed home my sins.

The shift in the ground tremors occurred, and my gaze jumped back to the streets. A dozen small, dark figures ran by the building, followed by two larger shadows. I sighed. Young leviathans were much like stampeding bulls when they caught the scent of blood. And the two adults were likely their parents. I turned away because I did not want to catch a glimpse of what they were chasing when they finally caught it.

My mind flowed back to the soldier who had lagged behind us when we all made a run for it. He had been caught and torn to bits by those monsters. I shuddered.

What are you doing?

I yelped and spun at Mikhail’s sleepy voice. I covered my heart. Don’t scare me like that. His hair was disheveled, and he now had on a pair of silky black boxers. I hadn’t heard a thing, which unnerved me.

He glanced down at his crutches and lifted them silently, as if to say, These make noise.

I couldn’t sleep. I turned back to the nightscape below.

The sound of crutches receded. I glanced over my shoulder, and he wasn’t in the doorway anymore. My chest squeezed at his absence. I crossed to the doorway to see him back under the covers, with his back to me.

Instead of crawling into bed again, I went back out in the living room and scanned the cityscape from the middle of the furnishings. His lack of empathy annoyed me tonight. He could have at least come over to give me some emotional support while I grappled with being a killer.

As I stared over the broken landscape, I wondered whether he had these same regrets after he decimated thousands with his fire. For me, it was only five humans. Five humans who deserved death.

I turned away from what the monsters had done to my city and stretched out on the couch. My insides knotted with mixed emotions. I stared at the shadows on the ceiling, wondering whether I would ever get over this despair raking fine nails across every inch of my skin.

I wished for the nights before the monsters came. The constant noise assaulting my ears had been like a lullaby to me. I could sleep through a tornado or hurricane with ease, but since the silence settled, it was difficult without the white noise of the city. Especially when sporting a guilty conscience.

I didn’t need more reflection time on what I had done to both Mikhail and to Troy and his soldiers. But the what-ifs kept playing in my mind like a sick game of replay your mistakes. The biggest unknown was Troy. What if I had stuck to my initial reaction of pushing him away? Would he have forced himself on me or just waited until Mikhail was dead to rape me?

Would he have been able to switch the labels? Or would he have to come clean on stealing the reserves? Or would he have just clocked me in the head and come up to administer the drug himself with some excuse as to why I wasn’t with him, and then leave Mikhail to die alone?

Every scenario ended with Mikhail dead and me in chains, being used as their human sex toy. I could not find an alternate scenario that would have played out the way it had. Maybe if Jenny hadn’t died, things would have been different. But then again, maybe it would have been worse.

Dawn broke through the dark, lightening the shadows that I had been studying all night. The toilet in the other room flushed and then the sink turned on and then off. It took a few minutes for Mikhail to come out to the living room, dressed in only his silk boxers. His hair was combed into place as opposed to the mess it had been when he checked on me in the middle of the night.

I stayed on the couch as both exhaustion and the quiet stress that filled the room gripped my muscles. Mikhail grunted at me and headed toward the kitchen, his brow still creased like it had been before we went to sleep.

He banged pans as he prepared breakfast, slamming dishes and the refrigerator, too.

I sat up. What the hell is your issue? I snapped. My filter didn’t work when I was this tired.

He glared at me as if we hadn’t fought our way through my indiscretion and then went back to preparing the food.

I laid back down with a huff.

Don’t you dare huff at me, he growled. Especially not when you still reek of that bastard.

It was as if someone poured hot lava into my bloodstream. I nearly jumped to my feet. I pointed at him. If you hadn’t been such an asshole about things for so long... The lame excuse came off my tongue before I could stop it.

His reaction was a feral growl, and he threw his plate of food at the wall behind him. It shattered and he took to his crutches, storming back to the bedroom without another glance at me. Then he slammed the door, but not before a litany of colorful language escaped his mouth.

Another door shut and the shower went on.

I closed my eyes and shook my head at my reaction. I should have just let him be. Let him get out his aggravation with the dishes instead of becoming snarky. I glanced at the dress I wore and reprimanded myself for being so damn stupid. I had worn this dress when Troy and I screwed around.

No wonder I set him off.

I tentatively approached the shower stall as his anger pulsed between us as loud as the silence he treated me to. I didn’t mean to fall into the blame game again, but it seemed to be my first defense lately.

He had been so supportive of me yesterday, but I murdered five men with a katana. Perhaps he just didn’t want to piss me off more than I already was.

I stepped into the shower behind him and reached for him.

Don’t, Holly, he said with a voice full of warning.

I didn’t listen and the moment I touched his back, he spun, grabbed my wrist, and slammed me face-first against the side wall with his body pressed against me.

You really need to learn to fucking listen, he growled in my ear. He spread my arms wide on the wall. Do not move.

The menace in his hissing voice kept me in place as he reached for his crutch in the corner of the shower.

Mi—

Shut it. He pulled my waist away from the wall. With the crutch, he spread my legs apart as wide as my hands. And do not move a damn muscle.

I started to lower my arms. And his hands grabbed my wrists, slamming them back in place.

The crutch fell against the wall. I’m still pissed, so do not try my patience right now.

His grip on my wrists was tight enough to hurt, but not enough to draw a wince. My heart thundered, and I didn’t dare look back at him. Not with the feral tone of his voice.

You want to know what’s going through my mind? What’s been on replay against the back of my eyelids all fucking night? His body rubbed against me as he centered himself behind me, using my arms for balance.

I shook my head because I did not want to know at the moment. His hands slid from my wrists down my arms until one hand cupped a breast and his other continued south. When his fingers found my clit and started circling, I let out a surprised moan.

Do not move, he said again and this time he squeezed my nipple.

I blinked and stared at the wall. His hand between my legs kept circling in slow motion, heightening my arousal with each rotation, while his hand on my breasts manipulated my nipples until they were so hard I thought I’d scream.

Did you come for him? he whispered in my ear.

That question was like being doused with cold water. All the heat he had built up inside me fled.

What?

Did. You. Come. For. Him? He enunciated each word, as if the weight of them were too much to speak at once.

I shook my head. Troy had fucked me fast and furious, with very little foreplay. Although it had satisfied my itch, it had not satiated me the way a good orgasm did. No, I breathed, holding myself in place because I was now afraid Mikhail would stop what he was doing if I did move.

Mikhail’s fingers still rolled over my clit in that same pattern of slow seduction. Was it fast or slow?

I let out a laugh. I couldn’t believe he was asking me to describe it to him. That earned me another nipple pinch, this one pulling a gasp from my lips. Fast, I said with a whine, and he released my breast.

He grabbed the crutch to steady himself, and then his hand reached beneath me, spreading my opening while he guided the head of his hard cock into my pussy, just enough to create a pleasant pressure. Then the bastard paused.

My brain swirled and my muscles quivered. I wanted to lower myself onto him, feel him inside me. I wanted every last inch of him pounding me until we both fell on the shower floor in satiated bliss. But I remained in place, wondering whether this was another fucked up dream. He kissed my shoulder and squeezed my breast.

Come for me, he whispered in a husky quality that I had never heard from him.

I wanted that tone whispered in my ear every day of my existence. It was so fucking hot. And then he slowly entered me while still playing with my clit.

Come for me, Holly, he repeated as his lips found the nape of my neck and he began sucking his way up to my earlobe, creating a web of hot chills through me.

He stretched my core, driving me nearly insane with his slow advance. Fuck me, Mikhail, I said.

His progression stopped, his hand on my clit stopped, and his kissing my neck stopped. I trembled in fear that he would walk away, and this would be the last time he ever touched me.

No, he growled in my ear. Then he started the slow pace again, as if I hadn’t just triggered a flare of anger. Come for me. This time it was delivered in a demanding tone, as if I could just orgasm at the drop of a hat.

I dipped my head against the wall as his fingers played me like a practiced guitarist and his member created such a slow friction inside. Heat built up through every muscle until I was stretched taut. And yet he still kept going at a scream-worthy snail’s pace.

His lips resumed on my neck; his free hand caressed my breasts with such tenderness that I moaned his name.

I want to feel you come, he whispered and then nibbled on my earlobe.

His hand moved faster, coaxing me to that plateau that very few men had ever really gotten me to. This was beyond measure. Beyond imagination. And certainly, beyond any dream I’d had of Mikhail. The lack of our bodies touching made this surreal, almost punishing.

My body flushed. Heat enveloped me, and I let out a scream as my body obliged his demand and arched into his hand. It was so strong that my fingers attempted to dig into the rock of his shower.

His soft, drawn-out Fuck heightened my reaction. It did exactly what I imagined hearing that whisper in my ear with all the thick sexual connotations in it would do. I wanted him to go faster. I wanted him to slam into me with all his force, all his length, and I think I actually started begging him.

But the minute my orgasm ended, he pulled away and crutched out of the shower, leaving me to nearly collapse on the ground as the sudden emptiness enveloped me.

My legs buckled, and I slid down the wall into a puddle of confusion as the warm water beat down on my body. When I stopped quivering, I slowly climbed to my feet, turned off the water, and wrapped a towel around my body.

Mikhail lay on the bed on his back, with his foot on the floor and the bandages around his stump dripping on the carpet unchecked. He stared at the ceiling with aggravation carved around his tight lips, as though what he had just done did not accomplish what he hoped.

The towel over his waist didn’t hide his member still standing at attention.

I was still in a state of disbelief. The way he left me hanging was cruel. When I stopped between his legs and reached for the towel, his gaze snapped to mine. He shook his head.

But this time, he was not in control. I snatched the towel away, hell-bent on having my way with him.

Holly.

The warning in his voice did not deter me as I reached out and slid my hand down his shaft. His eyes flared bright as I stroked him with long, slow strokes, being just as tenaciously stubborn as he had been in the shower. It wasn’t until I lowered to my knees and took him in my mouth that his eyes rolled back in his head. His hand threaded into my hair, trying to guide me, but I resisted. Going at an insanely slow pace. Just like he had.

Instead of going faster, I took him deeper and sucked harder. And then I pulled away and rolled my tongue around his tip.

Mikhail propped himself onto an elbow. Did you... He closed his eyes and laid back down as if he didn’t want to ask that particular question.

But it still hurt. It stung deeper than the burns on my back had.

No, Mikhail. I’ve never done this to any man before.

His eyes shot open, and his gaze landed on me, his mouth forming a little O of surprise.

Now come for me, I demanded and went back to doing exactly