Taming the Beast

She blinked, her cheeks rosy with heat and her lips parted. Her hands hovered half-way between her chest and the desk. She sat undecided and frozen as her gaze lowered—as if following my silent command. Lower. Lower still, dragging across my chest and down my stomach, until she couldn’t miss it.

She sucked in a breath, almost a hiss as her lips parted a little wider. Her hands pressed down onto the desk, fingers splayed and nails digging in.

I wished I had updated my office, moved into the current century and replaced the big, old desk with glass and steel. That way, I could peer beneath and watch her thighs flex and rub, fighting against the sudden surge of heat in her core.

But I could smell her need. Taste it on the air, liquid and thick and sweet.

I rocked forward on my feet. “Faye—”

She closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you go flying? That’s what dragons do, right?” It came out on a rush of air, thrown out there as an innocent distraction. She didn’t know she was throwing arrows tipped with points sharp enough to puncture even my armor.

The panic had nothing to do with her dismissal. Her rejection of my not too subtle advances. That, I could deal with. This was an old pain. It was something that I owned as a part of me, never to be forgotten, but sometimes easier to bear. If I didn’t think on it.

I couldn’t fly. I hadn’t flown since the day Astrid had left me alone, the grass barely seeded over our parents’ graves. As a new Alpha, young and inexperienced, I’d made mistakes. I had fought my way back, and had sunk down again, over and over. Each time I’d sunk lower and lower, until my dragon refused to show himself. I drank and gambled and blotted the world out—wrecking everything I’d come into contact with. My dragon had abandoned me, refusing to bond with me. He’d left me alone, which suited me fine. I didn’t need comfort or platitudes; I could do this on my own. I just needed an heir to leave it to.

Until recently, he hadn’t even talked to me. Until her.

I strode out of the room before I did something I might regret.

Like fall to my knees and beg.

Faye

The door shut with a soft click, at odds with the tornado of anger and frustration that had stormed through it in the form of a certain Alpha dragon. There’d been anguish too. It had streaked through his eyes, tarnishing the brilliant blue stormy and dull.

What had I said to cause such a reaction? Surely it wasn’t because I hadn’t rolled onto my back and spread my legs at a single lift of his eyebrow?

Not the only thing that had been lifting… I smothered an inappropriate giggle, more anxious than humorous, and removed my glasses, rubbing at my eyes. I’d been two seconds from crawling across the desk and prostrating myself for his attention.

And he’d known.

So my deflection shouldn’t have dented anything but his ego, which was big enough to float the floundering economy.

I’d mentioned his dragon. Was that it? Was his anger because I was human? Did he want a shifter warming his bed? A low sound fill

ed the room, bouncing off the walls.

Jerking back, I sealed my lips closed, cutting off what sounded suspiciously like a throaty snarl that was good enough to be from a shifter. Even the thought of another woman in Bastian’s arms had me wanting to storm after him, climb him like a tree and stake my claim.

What. The. Fuck? What claim? Something was seriously wrong with me. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I forced my mind off the wonders of his physique—and how he would feel under my hands as I climbed him—and back to the matter at hand.

Something was wrong with him. His file stated that he was reckless. An addict. Out of control. That he’d squandered his family fortune on high stakes card games. No mention of alcohol though, that must have come later, or been hidden. Though he didn’t act like a typical lush, and I was pretty sure any shifter would find it hard to maintain the low level buzz a functioning alcoholic would need.

I was back to square one. Now that I’d met him, nothing made sense. He wasn’t gambling anymore—hadn’t since that night he’d lost everything and nearly forfeited his sister. So, he could quit, and easily too, which meant he wasn’t really an addict.

My eyes flicked to the open fireplace, the grate filled with ash waiting to be swept away. An uptight asshole, maybe. Constantly wanting to control everything. Changing his mind on a whim and a prayer, like pressing a woman to bed one minute, and giving her the cold shoulder the next.

Columns of figures swam in front of my eyes. Red, red, red. A mess. Bills and debt overflowing.

Maybe I was wrong and everyone else was right. Maybe I should shut the file on him, tick the box and hand his future over to the Council to decide. Maybe he wasn’t worth the effort … or the heartache I suspected he might cause me if I allowed myself to care.

Silence reined thick through the house. No creaking floorboards, or thud of life. He wasn’t coming back. But I hadn’t heard the front door slam either, which meant he was still here. Brooding. Scowling. Cursing me with those wicked lips and furrowed brow.

One click of the mouse and the screensaver sprung back to life, mesmerizing and brain numbing.

I wasn’t going to find the answers I needed here, I had to go to the source itself. I had to make him tell me. Make him understand that if he didn’t help me find a way out of this hole, he wasn’t coming back.

Out in the hallway, I paused, listening to the creak of the house shifting in its foundation, the whoosh of water draining through pipes, the wind whistling against the windows. And a soft thwack thwack carried on the air. Following my ears, I pulled open a door, descending into the bowels of the house, eyeing cobwebs illuminated by a swinging naked bulb and wafting a hand in front of my eyes to beat away the faint shower of dust coming from the ceiling. Naked beams snaked above me, the floor below me a thick slab of concrete, but that wasn’t what drew my attention nor was it what kept it.