A shadow engulfed her from behind. She caught just a glimpse on the sand in front of her of an enormous winged shape with a serpentine neck and a long wicked head. Then the shadow collapsed in on itself and a split second later, a mountain slammed into her back.
She crashed into the sand so hard it knocked the breath out of her. The mountain resolved itself into the hard, heavy body of a male. Muscle-corded arms came down on either side of her. Huge hands latched onto her slim wrists while a long thigh crossed over the backs of her legs.
She wheezed, struggling to get her bruised rib cage to expand so her lungs could function, her palms and knees abraded from the impact. She stared at those imprisoning hands. Like the arms, they were powerful, colored a dark bronze that looked very dramatic against her pale skin.
Her mind wailed. She was so dead.
The male put his nose in her hair and took a deep breath. A convulsive shiver racked her body in response. He was sniffing her. She felt his nose at the back of her neck. He rubbed his face in her hair. A whimper was born and died at the back of her throat.
“Good chase,” he growled, his voice a dark rumble at her back.
She coughed and sand puffed up in front of her. “Not long enough.”
The weight lifted from her back, and he flipped her with mind-numbing swiftness. She slammed back into the sand, arms spread-eagled as he held her by the wrists again.
He bared his teeth at her in a machete smile. “We could always do it again.”
She thought of him letting her go and pouncing again, playing with her like a great cat, and shuddered.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered. Her eyes had gone watery from the force of the impact that knocked her down. She tried to focus on the dark, fierce face bent over her. Then her vision came clear.
Cuelebre was breathtaking. Energy and Power boiled from him; he radiated it like a dark sun. He had a handsome brutality, facial features cut into bold lines and angles as if a sculptor had hewn him from granite. His skin was a dark brown with a bronze hue, and those brilliant dragon’s eyes were hot gold. In his human form he was almost seven feet tall, three hundred pounds of dominant Wyr male sprawled like an avalanche across her body. In comparison she felt delicate, very breakable.
His hair was inky black. Just like in the dream. It had slipped through her fingers like silk.
The shock of his assault had not begun to pass, but through it she noticed one astonishing thing. He had thrown his thigh over hers again. He stared at her neck. Realization pulsed. He was looking at the bite he had given her. A hard length was growing against her hip.
“So, is that your long, scaly, reptilian tail, or are you just happy to see me?”
No, she did not just say that.
Did she? She cringed in mortification, screwed her eyes shut and waited to be splattered all over the beach.
Nothing happened, good or bad. Yet. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed it wouldn’t.
She whispered through shaking lips, “I didn’t mean to say that. Um, pay no attention to the lunatic inhabiting this body.”
As silence continued she opened one cautious eye. He studied her, lava gaze alert with interest. “Are you possessed?” he asked.
She had to clear her throat twice before she could answer. “You would think so, wouldn’t you, with all the dumbass moves I’ve made over the last couple of months. I’ve been acting out a lot with all the stress. This stranger seems to have taken over my mouth. She doesn’t seem to come installed with a brake. No offense.” The corners of her lips lifted in a tremulous smile. “I bet you want your penny back, huh?”
He shifted with sinuous grace, letting go of her hands to kneel over her. His predator’s stare narrowed further. “What do you think?”
Her hands fluttered up and, unable to help herself, she straightened his shirt collar with shaky fingers. Her fingers looked like delicate white twigs against the thick column of his neck.
Dragos stared down at her hands. She let them fall to her chest and clasped her hands together. “I think,” she said in a low voice, “that you would do anything to get your property back. No matter what was taken, no matter what it took, no matter where you would have to go to find it.”
“No one takes what is mine.” His growl reverberated through the ground. He bared his teeth and bent down until he was nose to nose with her. “No one.”
Holy mother, he was terrifying and magnificent. He disappeared in a blur as her eyes watered again. She nodded and whispered, “I know. I—I don’t suppose this matters much to you, and I don’t expect it to change anything, but I am sorry.”
Dragos cocked his head, his attention sharpening. “So your note said.”