Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Malediction. Normally I would have moves and countermoves all prepared in advance, but with Tabitha, it all feels wrong. She feels right. Being with her is completion, but there’s no joy in tricking her or trapping her.
She’s my mate. I want her to be here willingly.
And yet, letting her go is an absolute impossibility.
“It’s only been a day, my treasure. Give us time to settle together. You will come to love me, I’m sure.”
Anger flashes in her pale green eyes. “I see.”
She is still fighting, but I can be patient. She will come to accept me and my home as her own. Like all brides carried off to new lands, she will come to love her husband and honor him with offspring and her sweet obedience.
“How old are you?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Old. Dragons live a long time.”
“Give me a ballpark date.”
My brow furrows at the question. I do not know what this ballpark refers to.
“Estimation,” she amends. “You need to work on updating your lingo, dragon.”
“Which calendar? Gregorian or Julian?”
Tabitha wrinkles her adorable nose, like she’s trying to remember her history. “The Julian calendar hasn’t been used since the Middle Ages.”
I hold her gaze, and she sucks in a breath. “You're telling me you’ve been around since before the Renaissance?”
“Yes. I may have even participated in it.”
She covers her eyes with a hand.
“Tabitha?”
“I need a minute. Talk about a May-December romance. No wonder your ideas are medieval.”
I wait silently until she lowers her hand, then I capture it in mine. She looks at our joined hands. This time she doesn’t pull away. There’s an electrical charge between us, zinging under my skin. She can’t fight the attraction between us. The pheromones are too strong.
Her body knows its master.
“You’re a relic,” she says. “This is why you don’t get my pop culture references.”
“You can teach me,” I offer. “I have a facility with many languages. I can learn the new words you speak of.”
“What is the language you spoke last night? After you lay down with me?”
“A dialect long lost to the modern age. The language of dragons.”
“Really? Wow.”
“Once we are fully mated, you may understand it.”
If I can keep my dragon in check enough to safely claim her.
“Seriously? How does that work?”
“You seem quite sensitive. You have psychic abilities, no?”
She blushes, as if it’s a flaw, not a gift. “Yes. My mother hated it because she said I embarrassed people by knowing their secrets.”
“It’s your gift. And a gift to me. It makes you a perfect match for me.” I play with her delicate fingers, examining them, marveling at how small they are.
“Your hands are hot, like you have burning coals under your skin.”
“The fire is always alive, ready to pour forth when there’s danger. It can be dangerous.”
I didn’t mean to admit that, but she’s my mate. My treasure. It could affect her.
“I didn’t think dragons were around anymore. Of course, I didn’t think werewolves existed either. But there are legends all over the world of dragons. Like St. George slaying the dragon.”
“Ah yes, Bruce,” I say. “He wasn’t too right in the head. He smoked a lot of peat moss. Said it was good for his health.”
I grin at Tabitha’s astonished expression, and she shakes her head. ”You’re trolling me.”
“Trolling?” Another unfamiliar turn of speech, but this one I can guess at the meaning of. “St. George didn’t kill him. Just wounded.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” I frown. “But I don’t know what happened to him. Probably fell into a bog. As the British say, poor sod.”
Tabitha snort-laughs. “You really have lived a long time. Next, you'll be telling me about Grendel.”
“Don’t get me started on him and his mother. Or King Artur.”
Tabitha’s smile is genuine–like the one I saw when she was in the kitchen. Could it be all she craves is this?
A bit of conversation?
That was all Buttons and Giampi had given her.
“I need to call my mother,” she tells me, lifting her shapely brows.
I anticipated this request, yet it pains me more than I expect to refuse it. I hate to refuse my bride anything. “In due time, Tabitha.”
“When?” she presses, undaunted by my refusal.
“After you’ve settled here.”
“Right.” She removes her hand from mine and stands. “I’m going to my room. Is that allowed, your royal dragon highness?”
She’s peevish, which is understandable.
I stand with her. “Of course, my treasure. I will escort you there.”
“No.” She holds up a hand, as regal as any castle’s queen. “I’ll find it myself.” With that, she turns on her heel, tosses her lovely locks and strides from the room.
It takes everything in me not to follow her. To snatch her back with an arm around her waist and press her up against the wall. To make her melt with my tongue between her legs as I did last night. I could so easily use her body against her. Show her the connection, the bond we share that can’t be denied. Can’t be broken.