Page 63 of Drawn By Dragonblood
I chuckled at the word my brain had chosen. His cave-home felt like that exact thing, and I was the unsuspecting victim falling prey to his pheromones. Dakota would get a serious kick out of my brain right now.
She’d sat in the sunken tub surrounded by bubbles when I’d left our room. Had she touched herself yet? Taken care of that sweet pussy I had shared with Elijah? He’d been the only other man to taste her. The idea of anyone but him putting their hands on her had me clenching my jaw against a sudden growl rising from my chest.
Surprised by the animalistic noise, I coughed it away.
Was I turning into a beast, for fuck’s sake?
I reached the flanking doors—the dungeon I’d jerked off in and the computer lab, I realized while peeking into the wide-open door to my left.
Screens lined the far wall, showing feed from the cameras I’d located throughout house, and a quick glance revealed every room but the bathrooms. And the dungeon across the hall. He must have watched us, just as I’d suspected, but I needed to know.
“Get live feed on your cell?” I asked, lifting my coffee cup for a sip.
He turned, glancing over my clothed form with heat in his eyes, causing my dick to twitch beneath his perusal. “I do.”
“Did you enjoy your daily and nightly shows while in New York?” I asked without a hint of anger over his Peeping Tom antics without our consent.
“I did.” The dude didn’t even have the grace to glance away, blush, or apologize. Those pale eyes of his stared at me, so light blue they twinkled like a diamond.
Fucking fanciful mind.
A grin popped my dimples. “My wife is hot.”
“As are you.”
Well, fuck.
My cock swelled further, but I was determined to focus and start off on the right foot because this job was important as fuck. I cleared my throat. “So. About that contract.”
A corner of Elijah’s lip quirked, and he turned away. “Please have a seat, and we’ll go over what I had my legal team draft overnight.”
It was obvious the guy had money, but to keep lawyers working late into the night for a three-page agreement to entice me to sign on the dotted line? As if my ass hadn’t already known the truth of his wealth once I had seen the helicopter and the mad technology that allowed him to hide it deep inside a mountain.
Nothing about my first read through of the papers in front of me suggested Elijah had any intent to swindle me. Nor was he a cheap bastard. Full benefits. Sick leave. Retirement fund. Bonuses. Maternity leave should Dakota and I ever have a child.
An ache raced through me over how I’d failed to give her the world in that regard.
A slower, second read confirmed nothing lay in fine print that would fuck me over. No red flags waved, and when I’d brandished Elijah’s pen, that sense of rightness I’d been feeling too often lately rushed through me.
I signed my name without hesitation, no usual instinctive wariness creeping over my skin.
For two agonizing hours afterward, I sat in one of the kitchen chairs beside my new boss. He said he’d get another office chair on the next trip to New York in a couple of days, but I didn’t even notice the discomfort of the hard back and wooden seat.
Elijah was an AI god who built robots.
Like, fucking real-life humans, two legs, arms, ten fingers and toes. And I held a controller in hand, moving one of the high-tech models around in a huge laboratory all the way down in his New York office. Three-hundred some miles away, and I had the fucking thing sprinting, leaping, and spinning like a world-class gymnast, its motions fluid as though blood pumped through muscle beneath the fake skin covering the frame.
“Holy fuck, this is cool.” I stared at the monitor, my mind blown. His invention appeared more lifelike than any robot I’d ever seen, unsexed, but with agility enough to make me think the damn pile of metal and plastic was a human.
Elijah’s on-site employees had set up a dozen obstacles to test my ability to control the robot. Once I got the hang of how quickly the limbs responded, I raced that motherfucker around the lab like he owned the place.
A smaller remote controlled the hands, and after a few dexterity tests, I dismantled a fake bomb, snips and all, just like in the movies.
“Well done.” Elijah’s murmur after I completed the final test warmed me through.
“Coolest fucking shit I’ve ever played with.” I put the remote controller on the desk and sat back, watching as the New York staff in their white lab coats and bootied feet began checking the robot over.
“I have a dozen other prototypes?—”
