Page 14 of Fallen for the Two-Headed Dragon

Surrounded by the carmine beat of his wings, she felt free.

Chapter Nine

Dana

After a few minutes of flying, they came upon a waterfall. With the grace of a being centuries old, Rathym glided down and gently placed Dana’s feet on the ground. Dana could feel his gaze on her as she took in the enchanting sight.

The waterfall emptied into a basin of crystal-clear water. The ground was speckled with smooth pebbles of all colors. Bright green moss grew in the cracks and on the mounds that surrounded the spring. Rathym approached the waterfall and stepped through. He breathed fire on a perfectly paved shelf-like semi-circle behind the flowing water, creating steam.

It was a scene pulled straight from a fantasy novel.

“Wow,” she whispered breathlessly. She didn’t hesitate to disrobe. He’d already seen her naked on the table. This setting would at least be more flattering.

Rathym not-so-subtly watched her with his signature expression bordering on arrogance. She could practically see him add a tally to his balance toward keeping her here. Little did he know, Dana was keeping track of her own skewed version of the same tally, and this ticked another point toward leaving society to live with a super old dragon.

The toasty water was glorious. She closed her eyes and reclined weightlessly, using only her arms in little circles to stay afloat. With a contented sigh, she let her uninjured leg drift underneath her and stood on the tip of her toes. It wasn’t too deep that she couldn’t touch, and having the weight off her ankle felt almost as helpful as the healing solvent.

Rathym bathed nearby, no longer hiding his glances in her direction. Her view of his body was obstructed by a mound of rock, but the fire in his eyes and smoke billowing from his nostrils told her all she needed to know.

The flame in his double irises gave her an idea. She’d never been fond of the spotlight, but throughout their time together, he’d seemed to only have eyes for her anyway. Besides, the tension between them would have to give way at some point, right? Regardless that her bullies—and her sister—teased her for being a goody-two-shoes, she’d never been afraid to make the first move. But something about his being a totally different species made her hesitate. Could a dragon develop true feelings for a human? What if it was all in her mind and he’d only thought of her as a pet all along?

What if their companionable silence was like the quiet affection between a house cat and their owner?

That was the thought that kept her from taking action. She needed him to make the first move to avoid making a fool of herself.

But that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for him to resist.

Embodying the most fierce Beyoncé version of herself, she lay back and swam tits-up toward the flowing stream. She wished her breasts were more voluptuous, but she’d been gifted a flat chest and a spindly, bony body, all knees and elbows. Still, she felt his eyes on her even behind her eyelids.

When she reached the gentle thunder of the waterfall, the balmy air constricted her breathing a little. Her contacts didn’t love the situation, but she ignored them. She rose from the water in a manner she hoped was sultry despite her ankle. In her peripheral, she could see she’d captured his attention. Good.

She proceeded to half-wash, half-dance in the steamy water. She felt a little silly—okay, a lot silly—but she was empowered by the way his stare became more and more lustful. She let her thumbs graze her nipples as she directed the warm water down to trace her swaying hips. She called to mind the old pin-up ladies and how they made men swoon just by pulling up their stockings. Slowly and with great, sensual care, she mimicked the image in her mind’s eye, bending at the waist, letting one knee drift crooked. Shifting her weight with another swish of her hips, she straightened, allowing her head to tilt back. She ran her fingers through her hair, holding her arms just so, then dropped them back to her body to follow the rivulets of water down the expanse of her stomach, all the way to the apex of her thighs.

A loud splash came from Rathym’s corner. She glanced up to see two sets of eyes, all four rapt on her body. His full form took up all the space on the pebbled beach, even flattening some trees with his rump. A forked tongue hissed out of the leftmost head, the sound not seeming entirely voluntary.

Did he lose control over me? She hoped so. She’d witnessed him nearly lose hold of his downshift once before, when she’d told him how she’d wound up in his cave.

She stared down the enormous two-headed creature, hoping to convey that she was not afraid of him. Not put off by him. Even though the massive beast was painted as an antagonist in so many fairy tales, she welcomed his fiery gaze. Craved it. The flare of all his nostrils told her he could smell the liquid heat growing between her legs. The sparks between their locked eyes might as well have been a visible string for how intensely she felt it, like a strike of lightning that could cut her down here and now if only he reached out and traced her skin with one of his sharp claws.

A mindless shift of her weight made her ankle throb. She winced before she could stop herself, but it was too late. Rathym was already downshifted and rushing toward her before she caught her next breath.

Before he scooped her into his arms, she was rewarded with a full view of the arousal she’d caused. Her eyes widened, her lips curved upward, and her body ached with need.

Too soon, he set her down on the bank and retrieved his scrap of cloth. Oh, well. At least she knew her little scheme had hit its mark. Maybe he would act on it soon. Maybe he would quell the hollow ache inside her, the desperate need to be filled to capacity, to be impaled on one or both of his cocks.

Her thoughts turned a little bitter as she realized her scheme had not only worked on him, but had also deeply frustrated herself.

“When we return, you will read me your story.”

“What? No way!”

All the residual heat drained at that one sentence. Her neck snapped toward him so quickly it hurt. She would never let someone see her first draft! First drafts were not for viewing. But Rathym didn’t bother arguing and she knew she’d lost already. Whenever he used that authoritative, commanding, sexy tone, she knew she was hopeless to disagree.

When they got home—when did it start to feel like home?—he pointed at her seat and started on dinner.

“Read.”

Oh, god.

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