Dragon Bites Page 11

  I am flying without wings.

  His breath, when he pulled back, caressed the moist skin of her upper lip. When she moaned, he returned to join his mouth to hers. His tongue slid against the crease between her lips and she gasped at the sensation. When it slipped inside, her entire body hummed. Concentrating, she kept her fangs at bay and her talons retracted.

  The effort gave her little time to comprehend the sensations spreading over her, nor the heady desire clenching deep inside her human body’s core.

  Delicate tingles raced from her toes to her fingers, shocking everything in between with an urge to make love, here and now. Kissing a human male definitely had its high points.

  “Dru Little! Where be ye, girl? I need that flour.”

  Dru and the lieutenant jumped apart as if scorched by flames. The heat from his body still burned deep inside to tease her mystical soul, and not with dragon’s breath. She immediately missed his touch and taste.

  “I’m coming,” she shouted toward the door.

  The man’s left eyebrow rose, and heat swept across her chest and cheeks. She threw a quick glance at the kitchen door, thankful that Maggie had not come out to investigate.

  Dru grabbed the heavy bag of flour and hoisted it onto a shoulder. She faked an unladylike grunt to keep her secret, since dragon strength made her inhumanly strong. As she pretended to toil with her burden, Shaw lifted the bag from her and placed it on one of his broad shoulders.

  “Allow me.”

  Hiding her smile, Dru held the kitchen door open, then followed him in. The surprised look on Maggie’s face was priceless.

  “What’s this? I send ye outside for flour and ye come back with…”

  “Maggie, this is Lieutenant Stenhouse. Lieutenant, this is Maggie MacDonald. We met, accidently, in the alley.”

  “Lieutenant,” Maggie said with a small curtsy.

  “Ma’am. Where do ye want this bag?” he grunted.

  Dru pointed to a storage bin below the table and the two of them worked together to empty the contents. When he stood, Dru brushed flour from his lapel. Shaw tipped his hat at Maggie, then followed as Dru headed out into the alley.

  “And, yer name, lass?” he asked, once they stood alone in the alley.

  “Ye sound as Scottish as myself, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, though born in New York, I grew up around my immigrant parents’ accents. I seem to fall into it when excited.”

  “Hmm. Yer excited?” She smiled, knowing she’d added a wicked grin with her words. In the dim light from the open kitchen door, a blush rose up his chiseled cheekbones. Dru licked her lips, and waited.

  He moaned as he stared at her mouth. Were her fangs showing? She rolled her tongue along her human teeth, but her fangs had not dropped. Then she recalled how their tongues had danced inside her mouth.

  Dru shivered.

  “Are ye cold? Ye should go inside.” The soldier’s eyes drifted down. His boots glistened with dew. When had it started to drizzle? Now attentive, she sensed a hard rain threatened. She might have to postpone her nightly hunt. One of Maggie’s raw chickens would do until tomorrow.

  “What I meant to say is, when in a battle or when saving a beautiful young woman from a band of ruffians, I slip back into a Scottish burr.”

  “I’m not complaining, Lieutenant,” Dru said. She stroked his stubbly cheek and smiled wide. “I must return to my duties.”

  As she turned to mount the steps into the kitchen, Shaw pulled her into his arms. His mouth found hers and her hands slipped up and over his shoulders. She circled his neck with tingling fingers, reveling in the silky softness of his queue. When they had stepped inside the kitchen, the lamps revealed his hair to be as dark brown as coarse cinnamon and his eyes the gray of winter clouds.

  He backed her against a shadowy wall and pressed against her, returning her attention to his rock-hard body. The swift surge of passion thrilled her with the power their shared kiss conjured. The second kiss was a joy-filled surprise that swiftly turned into a carnal promise of things to come.

  With her fingers entangled in his silky locks, she wiggled her hips, yearning to get closer. He groaned, and pressed her between the hard planks of the wall and the steel planes of his chest. His tongue slid across her lips until she opened beneath his touch, welcoming him inside. She now knew what to expect. She now craved his intimate strokes within the sensitive curve of her mouth.

  Prickles of desire brought a moan from deep within her throat, and the pleasure dampened the secret area between her legs. She never would have believed the fire inside could flame even brighter. She yearned for more.

  Much more.

  When he broke the kiss, Dru cried out with disappointment.

  “I should not keep taking advantage, Miss…you neglected to share your name.”

  She laughed. Yes, she’d forgotten he’d asked, as any human male would. Names were a big thing between humans. Saddled by the name of the woman whose life she’d overtaken, she had nothing to hide. As time wore on, she’d grown to like it.

  “Dru Little.”

  He smiled and bowed at the waist, picked up his bent loaf of bread and stepped back. “I must leave ye, now.”

  “Getting back to Fort Moultrie?”

  He nodded while his thumb wiped a raindrop from her cheek. “I will return in a week, at a more appropriate hour. Goodnight, Miss Little.”

  As he retreated into the dark, she glared at his back. Why did he have to leave now? Kissing him could lead to a variety of pleasurable things and she desperately wanted to experience them. Her human body reacted uniquely different from her scaled dragon form, but he spoke the truth. No normal human woman would make love to a man she just met.

  What was I thinking?

  ***

  Shaw exited the alley and headed toward the pier where his men had tied the small boat. He smiled like a love-struck fool when he realized he whistled as he strode along. His light steps and tight breeches were due to thoughts filled with Miss Dru Little. She tasted like sugar and cinnamon and smelled like almonds. Her plain, serviceable dress and stained apron could not hide her delectable curves.

  His steps faltered when the memory of her surrounded by three men flashed through his eyes. Fear and apprehension stirred him to run toward them when she had screamed, and him without his sidearm. A momentary lapse he would not repeat. He dare not return to Charleston without it.

  She’d given her assailants their own bruises, but they’d had her on the ground. What if he'd walked by five minutes later?

  “Lieutenant! You’re late.”

  Shaw’s attention snapped back to the corporal below him, sitting inside the skiff with a few other soldiers. The men had stacked boxes of vegetables and bags of flour and sugar at their feet. Shaw tossed the bread to the corporal. The man grinned at the bent and ruined loaf, now soggy with dew.

  “Trouble, sir?”

  “Aye, but all is well.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I came to the aid of a lady in distress.”

  “And? Did she reward you handsomely?” The corporal’s eyebrows arched, and he rubbed a hand between his legs.

  “Yes, Miss Little’s kisses were generous.” The words tumbled from his mouth before the guilt washed over him. The guilt of sharing his moment with Miss Little. “Let’s get back to the fort. I am wide awake, but this sea air will put me out soon enough.”

  “Fine. I spent my evening schlepping supplies while you were on an amorous adventure with the Millbrook Inn’s prettiest serving wench.”

  Flames seared Shaw’s cheeks. How much should he reveal of his so-called adventure? When would he see Miss Little again? He knew where she worked, so a second, more pleasant meeting should prove easy enough.

  Why in blazes had he shared their nighttime rendezvous with others? He should have related the event in the alley without naming the victim so no other soldier would seek out her kisses. Jealousy rose, unwanted, and he must have frowned, because the corporal
gave him a quizzical stare.

  “Let me just share this. I tossed a few ruffians on their arse when they got a bit too friendly with a local.”

  “Aiding the enemy, sir?”

  “Enemy? We are federal soldiers. Though the politicians grumble and wail about the southern states wanting to secede, we are still one country. Besides, things might blow over. If not, we will most likely return to the north. In the meantime, our duty is to protect the harbor from invading forces.”

  The corporal shrugged and set a man to rowing the small vessel across the harbor to Fort Moultrie. Shaw’s attention locked on the lights of Charleston, fading into the distance. The boat’s gentle bobbing lulled him into the peaceful twilight between wakefulness and dreams.

  Dru’s face floated before him. She licked her berry-red lips, and winked. In shadow, her blue eyes shimmered with desire. Her brown hair floated behind her, curling at the ends. Her welcoming gaze stirred a fire in his loins that echoed in his heart. His fingers yearned to throw off his gloves and cup her small, perfect breasts.

  When a large fish jumped beside the boat, splashing him, Shaw snapped back to reality. The sudden dousing of cold seawater woke him from a most enjoyable dream. The corporal laughed as Shaw wiped the salty spray from his cheek and prayed his men could not see the aching bulge between his legs.

  CHAPTER 2

  The next seven days passed as slow on a cold morning as the time it took to pour molasses. A salt-laden breeze filled Dru’s nostrils as rivulets of smoke escaped her snout. She sailed among the clouds, oblivious to the cold snap hovering over her adopted city, until tears welled in her eyes. Feathered eyelids lowered, sheltering her gaze as she searched the water below. Muscles snapped and wrenched as she drew her bony knees inward, gathering them close to her belly’s radiant heat.

  Dru reveled in her life as a healthy, young Scottish dragon. Lips and nostrils of serpent skin opened wider, filling with the abundant taste and scent of aquatic life, mudflats, and winter. She loved days like today, along the South Carolina coast.

  Curling her talons, salt-covered scales crackled. She gathered her leathery wings to her back and dropped lower. Dru flew close to the battlements, intent on swallowing a pelican or other fat seabird. The trick was to elude detection by the birds as well as the men inside the stone fortress under construction.

  The walls of Fort Sumter had risen slowly over the past year. When she walked along the Charleston pier, she could now make out its five-sided silhouette. The tall stone walls and inner bailey reminded her of castles in the Scottish Highlands.

  She missed Scotland, but she had come to realize she had no future among the craggy islands and moors. Having left her homeland, the loneliness she found in Charleston threatened to unhinge her mind, and throw her into the dark depths of despair.

  Oh, she enjoyed working with Maggie and serving the myriad of men who came into the dining hall, but her life lacked male companionship.

  Today, at least, she found pleasure in spying on the men stationed at the uncompleted fort. A dragon’s eyes could peer through the thickest sea fog or blackest night. For safety’s sake, she knew she ought to fly at night in search of food, but she loved to fly with the sun on her back. During the day or early evening, she finished her chores and escaped into the sky.

  The harbor sailors and merchants appeared small as ants. As she flew high above the new fort, laborers worked tirelessly on the man-made rocky island in an ingenious, well-planned operation.

  From behind a cloud, she spat seashells at the workers. A foolish, childish game and she knew it, but it served to pass the time. Hadn’t she done the same thing to the Selkies along the coasts of Ireland and Scotland? The difference between playing with the mythical creatures on the other side of the ocean? Dru never had to hide.

  The situation here in Charleston proved different. Forced to hide from the humans, Dru knew keeping her existence secret took precedence.

  Blazes!

  The sun would rise in less than thirty minutes. She could not allow anyone to catch a glimpse of her true form. Her dragon existence gave her so much more, including the freedom to fly above the earth, and the ease in which she caught her food. Her physically superior makeup was unstoppable.

  Powerful.

  Lonely.

  Dru shook off the pity party, swooped to a sandbar covered with waterfowl, plucked a slow bird, and broke her fast. With her hunger abated a bit, she licked her chops, flapped her great wings, and headed to shore.

  The bird did little to satisfy her hunger. Maggie’s delicious southern fried chicken had spoiled her taste buds. Maggie promised to teach her how to make the succulent meal that made their tavern famous.

  Returning to the clouds, she gave one last look toward the retreating battlements. Like a grand Scottish castle overlooking a strategic headland, Fort Sumter appeared destined to turn into a great fortress. The thick walls and armory would protect Charleston from any invaders. She’d seen the cannons off-loading on the dock beside the fort’s main gate.

  Time to get back, she sighed to the wind.

  Anticipation of serving the men who lived at the smaller Charleston-area forts made her scaled lips twitch. Men from Fort Moultrie, one such nearby fort, frequented the small tavern where she had taken a room. Speaking with the well-dressed federal soldiers helped her shed her shyness.

  She had slowly grown accustomed to living among humans. However, she had no idea how she’d react if a certain handsome lieutenant walked in.

  The one she’d kissed like a wanton woman.

  Dru had quickly grown comfortable with the human body she’d borrowed from a young woman who had the unfortunate destiny to accidently die. The poor girl’s bad luck turned into a fortunate find.

  For me.

  Once Dru had set her mind on crossing the ocean, the American coastline—Charleston Harbor, in particular—had looked like as good a place as any in which to settle. For that bit of magic, she required a human body to fulfill the shift. The dead woman's stature, coloring, and age matched Dru’s idea of the human existence she coveted. She slipped into her life and incorporated the woman’s memories. She found her way to the Milltown Restaurant on Kings Street where Dru lived modestly, worked hard, and earned a living.

  I don’t necessarily call it living.

  Not with loneliness making the days pass slowly. Nights spent in her human form were cold and forever long. The roving eyes of men deep in their cups had kept her to herself most nights. She’d never been kissed by a human male until last week when Shaw Stenhouse took her in his arms.

  Blazes!

  The lieutenant’s kisses shocked her at first touch, when he feathered soft, warm lips against hers. How odd. She’d expected a man to feel hard and cold, not like silk and filled with passion so sweet it made her nearly swoon.

  Dragons do not swoon.

  But, a dragon had not kissed Shaw back. A young woman had wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down to her hungry mouth. Dru was that woman. The exquisite taste and tingly sensation even now filled her cold-blooded body with a heat not born of dragon flames.

  If she hadn’t left Scotland and found a new home in America, she would never have met the attractive lieutenant. Odd that he could attract a dragon. His sparkling gray eyes seemed as drawn to her as she to him. He certainly filled out his uniform. She would swear on a mountain of ancient dragon treasure that his interest prodded her belly through the crisp cloth of his breeches.

  Dru had not wanted to leave her home across the sea. She had enjoyed life around the cave beneath the Isle of Skye, but hunters from the coastal Scottish clans had grown in number. They roamed over the land with their sharp-tipped arrows or bobbed too close to her home in their sea craft. Food sources had turned scarce.

  They were not hunting her, but it was only a matter of time. The chance of discovery grew as the population on some of those forsaken islands grew. And the sheep! She found she disliked their wooly taste as much as seals.
A new home suddenly proved imperative.

  Life as a human had its high points. As a serving girl, Dru earned a few coins working at the Milltown Restaurant on lower King Street, near the docks. Her meager wages came with a cozy room in the attic that reminded her of her former Scottish cave.

  Her room’s window opened onto a flat portion of the roof. Far from prying eyes, out of sight of the street or neighboring buildings, she freely took to the skies to catch her dinner.

  Dru pulled her attention back to the present, and swooped down toward the rooftop near her tiny room. Her wings fluttered silently as she landed and instantly morphed into her human shape completely dressed for the day.

  She inhaled deeply, and instantly regretted it. She scrunched her tiny human nose at the back alley’s sour odor, which sparked a memory of three human males cornering her there. She shivered, then rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  Her coworker, Maggie MacDonald, had asked her to fetch a sack of flour that fateful night. The gristmill’s slave had delivered the inn’s supplies that afternoon, but she and Maggie had been so busy in the tavern, she’d forgotten the task until darkness had fallen.

  “Fried chicken don’t dip itself, lass,” Maggie had quipped. Dru had leapt at the chance to escape the confines of the hot kitchen. Unfortunately, she had stepped into mire stickier than a highland moor after a hard rain.

  Blazes! A few drunken sailors nearly got the best of me.

  Dru’s attention had wandered as it frequently did when she wanted nothing more than to fly among the clouds.

  Or lie in bed with a man.

  She’d watched mortals making love. The women appeared happy and content—at least the noisy ones. She remembered flying over the rooftops of Charleston when their screams and moans had piqued her curiosity. So, she did what any young dragon would do.

  She spied on them.

  Dru had peeked through bedroom windows of city townhouses and outlying plantations. To do so wasn’t the nicest thing she’d ever done, but how else could one learn? She was no virgin though her human host was. Distant memories of copulating in dragon form were fleeting.