Taming the Beast

A large bag swung in the middle of the shadowy room, swinging back and forth from a metal chain looped around one of the many beams. The faint sound I had followed echoed loud and clear as his fists pounded into the bag, his weight driving it forward in sharp, potent jabs. Muscles coiled and sweat dripping off him, he danced around the rotating target, sweatpants hanging low on his slim hips, teasing glimpses of abs rippling as the light caught and flashed off his slick skin. Power barely constrained curled his lips as he unleashed his fury on the inanimate object.

He was beautiful. Deadly.

Captivating.

A soft groan left my lips before I could bite back the sound, my knees weak as I clung to the rail.

He spun on light feet. The bag swung back.

I uttered what I thought was a cry of warning.

His arm snapped out, halting the bag in it’s tracks with a single finger. Lips still curled, he regarded me with a look I couldn’t even begin to fathom. Tension radiated from him, steam rising and curling into the air, his eyes flashed with silver sparks as his pupils dilated to round orbs. “What do you want from me?” He didn’t snap, didn’t shout. His voice was smooth and liquid.

An enticement to stay away.

To come closer if I dared.

Did I dare tease the dragon in his lair?

Chapter 4

Bastian

Her scent arrived before she did, filling my lungs and tightening my chest, until acid ran through my veins and ate away at my insides, demanding and unrelenting.

It filled me with pain. Pain—of denying everything natural and right. Of denying her.

Why should I fight it? She’d make a good mate. She’d give me the children I craved. But she’d demand love. Hell, she’d deserve to be loved, and that was something I wasn’t willing to give.

She hovered at the bottom of the steps, her hesitation curling one hand into the wood and bracing the other against her stomach. Delicate fingers plucked at the fabric of her blouse, teasing the cotton in a rhythmic motion that echoed the sound of her thundering heart.

Did she know what she was doing to me? Did she understand how close to the edge I was? The relentless ache grew behind my eyes, throbbing and insistent as need clawed at me.

She hadn’t answered my question—she had barely even breathed since laying eyes on me. Her deep brown gaze was caressing as it learned my body in a way that almost felt like a violation. That was, if it hadn’t felt so damn good. She wanted me, I could read it in her reluctance, in the way she clung to the steps as if they were her only chance of keeping away. Her breasts strained with every breath, her nipples beaded, hard and visible through the soft cotton. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, her lips barely parted and eyelids lowering, but not breaking away.

The workout hadn’t helped. I thought it had, had fooled myself by thinking I had it under control. Bullshit. One look at her and I knew I was losing the battle. My dragon obviously didn’t give a shit. He was happy to let me continue to slide into oblivion and drag her down with me.

He didn’t care. So, why should I?

She doesn’t deserve this! I shouted at him inside my head, begging him for help, the strength to resist what fate insisted I take. She deserves better than me. Than us!

He didn’t answer, but his claws raked down my insides. Telling me what? I didn’t know.

She cleared her throat, choosing exactly the wrong moment to speak, unaware that inside, I was waging a war—with my soul. “I want to know you, Bastian.”

Fucking hell, Faye. Wrong answer.

My control snapped, her words shredding what remained of my resistance. A deafening roar blotted out all thought, my feet were moving, three strides and I had her pinned against the wall, her ass filling my hands as her legs spread around me. I growled, sliding a hand up into her hair and dragging her head back, my lips crashing down on hers and claiming what was mine. Plump and soft, her lips moved beneath mine, a startled yelp escaping. I swallowed her protest, seizing the opportunity, my tongue spearing deep into her mouth and tasting.

Fuck. My every cell vibrated with how right this felt.

Her hands crept up my back, sliding over my skin and molding to my shoulders. Blunt nails dug in, a soft whimper breathed into my mouth, her tongue tentatively dueling with mine. Back arching, her hips thrust forward, grinding against my painfully hard shaft, rubbing and teasing as she responded beautifully.

Sliding my hand around, I cupped her breast, rolling her nipple back and forth as my hips rocked into hers. I deepened the kiss, the world fuzzy and indistinct around us, the feel of her nails scratching up my back, her fingers reaching up and threading through my hair, tugging my head in a bid to fight for the right to claim me as her own.

She was it. The one. My other half. There was no denying the triumph running through my soul, sinking into my heart and squeezing.

The roar in my ears cut off. My hand slid from under her ass, lowering her back to the floor. I stumbled, my lips breaking free. Air floated between us as I staggered back, my mind bending under the knowledge. This was it. I could claim her or set her free.