sure what to do. If he bonded with her, the markings would stop covering his skin and the ache that racked his body would cease. He couldn’t be sure what the mating would do to her though, and as his mate, his mahtyeh , she must always come first.
He would also have to do something about that crazy bastard Drago. That fool would only send someone else after her if he didn’t produce proof he’d killed her soon. He sighed and dark smoke wove past his lips. Contrary to what the gargoyle thought, he didn’t work for Drago because he had to. It was his way on keeping an eye on the crazy son of a bitch. That dragon was a tyrant waiting to happen. Hell, another beast would have taken him out a long time ago had it not been for the fact he was Manx the Supreme’s nephew. That dragon had been a just ruler and hopes that Drago would follow his uncle’s example were swirling down the drain quickly.
A few battles he’d witnessed between Drago and his challengers left a bad taste in his mouth. The bastard cheated, he wasn’t sure how though. It didn’t matter anyway. Without the Y Ddraig Goch jewels and proof that he actually had them, no dragon could earn the title as supreme. At the moment, his people lacked direction and if they were ever to reunite, they needed a Supreme ruler.
He pushed open his bedroom door. A sliver of light cut the darkness and crossed the bed. Kirill folded his arms and stared at the small bump dangerously close to the edge of the mattress. She mumbled something and flipped over onto her belly, bunching the covers around her. He stalked into the room and pushed the door shut with his foot. Grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, he pulled it over his head and threw it toward a corner. He slid his thumb into the waist band of his pajama bottoms then pulled his hand away and gripped the covers instead, pulling them back.
Sliding under the bed clothes, he turned to face the woman that held his fate in her hands. He pushed the hair away from her face. Her eyes moved beneath her lids and he wondered what she dreamed about. Synda rubbed her cheek against his palm and eased up next to him, burrowing into his side. Her arms slipped around his chest and she nestled her chin into the nook his arm created. He sighed as sleep brought on the darkness.
Chapter Five
Synda hugged the pillow to her body and buried her face into the soft cotton. A source of heat warmed her backside. Someone really needed to turn off the space heater. She kicked her legs free of the heavy duvet and tried to roll over. The weight of a hand traveled the short distance from her waist to hip. She did a quick wiggle and blunt fingertips dug into her skin. She opened her eyes, didn’t recognize the room. The dark wood and rough stone walls told her she wasn’t in her open, airy condo. She quelled the panic rising from her queasy stomach.
She lifted her head, staring at the stone. Where the hell were the windows? The hand slid from her side down to her ass as she shifted to lie on her belly. Slowly she turned her head and brought her arms up under her, keeping her palms flat to the mattress. She met Kirril’s bright blue gaze.
The sheets dipping perilously low on his hips. Synda blinked several times taking in his smooth chest and ripped…she counted…eight pack? Seriously, how was that even humanly possible? Breaking eye contact, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. She had to be dreaming. Synda opened her eyes and he smiled. A day’s beard growth covered his chin and her nipples pearled into hard nubs against the soft bed coverings. Different ideas ran from through her mind and memories of the previous evening came rushing back to her.
Synda swallowed. “So Kiril, right? Umm, where are my clothes.” She spoke low and enunciated her words.
“Why are you whispering? We are the only ones here and I tossed your clothes into the fire. They were ruined.” He moved, rising up on one elbow.
“You threw my things into a fire.”
He would also have to do something about that crazy bastard Drago. That fool would only send someone else after her if he didn’t produce proof he’d killed her soon. He sighed and dark smoke wove past his lips. Contrary to what the gargoyle thought, he didn’t work for Drago because he had to. It was his way on keeping an eye on the crazy son of a bitch. That dragon was a tyrant waiting to happen. Hell, another beast would have taken him out a long time ago had it not been for the fact he was Manx the Supreme’s nephew. That dragon had been a just ruler and hopes that Drago would follow his uncle’s example were swirling down the drain quickly.
A few battles he’d witnessed between Drago and his challengers left a bad taste in his mouth. The bastard cheated, he wasn’t sure how though. It didn’t matter anyway. Without the Y Ddraig Goch jewels and proof that he actually had them, no dragon could earn the title as supreme. At the moment, his people lacked direction and if they were ever to reunite, they needed a Supreme ruler.
He pushed open his bedroom door. A sliver of light cut the darkness and crossed the bed. Kirill folded his arms and stared at the small bump dangerously close to the edge of the mattress. She mumbled something and flipped over onto her belly, bunching the covers around her. He stalked into the room and pushed the door shut with his foot. Grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, he pulled it over his head and threw it toward a corner. He slid his thumb into the waist band of his pajama bottoms then pulled his hand away and gripped the covers instead, pulling them back.
Sliding under the bed clothes, he turned to face the woman that held his fate in her hands. He pushed the hair away from her face. Her eyes moved beneath her lids and he wondered what she dreamed about. Synda rubbed her cheek against his palm and eased up next to him, burrowing into his side. Her arms slipped around his chest and she nestled her chin into the nook his arm created. He sighed as sleep brought on the darkness.
Chapter Five
Synda hugged the pillow to her body and buried her face into the soft cotton. A source of heat warmed her backside. Someone really needed to turn off the space heater. She kicked her legs free of the heavy duvet and tried to roll over. The weight of a hand traveled the short distance from her waist to hip. She did a quick wiggle and blunt fingertips dug into her skin. She opened her eyes, didn’t recognize the room. The dark wood and rough stone walls told her she wasn’t in her open, airy condo. She quelled the panic rising from her queasy stomach.
She lifted her head, staring at the stone. Where the hell were the windows? The hand slid from her side down to her ass as she shifted to lie on her belly. Slowly she turned her head and brought her arms up under her, keeping her palms flat to the mattress. She met Kirril’s bright blue gaze.
The sheets dipping perilously low on his hips. Synda blinked several times taking in his smooth chest and ripped…she counted…eight pack? Seriously, how was that even humanly possible? Breaking eye contact, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. She had to be dreaming. Synda opened her eyes and he smiled. A day’s beard growth covered his chin and her nipples pearled into hard nubs against the soft bed coverings. Different ideas ran from through her mind and memories of the previous evening came rushing back to her.
Synda swallowed. “So Kiril, right? Umm, where are my clothes.” She spoke low and enunciated her words.
“Why are you whispering? We are the only ones here and I tossed your clothes into the fire. They were ruined.” He moved, rising up on one elbow.
“You threw my things into a fire.”
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