~~~
Taking deep breaths in through her nose, Mel tried to calm down. She was aware that she’d fallen into the trap of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but the dragonman had a way of stirring her anger. If his words weren’t enough, he’d then picked her up and carried her on his shoulder as if it wasn’t the twenty-first century, but some far-gone time when women were nothing more than property.
True, she had no idea if women were viewed as property inside the dragon culture. Her research in the last few weeks had turned up very little about the dragon-shifters’ gender roles, or much of anything for that matter. But if the females were anything like the male under her stomach, she doubted they’d put up with Tristan’s manhandling or any of the rest of his crap.
Mel was clever enough to know fighting him was a waste of time; he could overpower her with one hand. Besides, being this close to his body, she couldn’t ignore the amount of heat radiating from the hard muscles of his chest and back, or the way he smelled of the wind and something uniquely masculine.
Before she could do something stupid, such as take a deep inhalation of Tristan’s oddly intoxicating scent, he stopped and slowly slid her body down his. Her curves loved the contrasting hardness of his chest, and the friction of their bodies turned her nipples into hard points.
No doubt, the dragonman would use her body’s betrayal against her.
The only saving grace was she felt his hard cock poking against her stomach. Despite his earlier comments about humans, Tristan MacLeod could be aroused by one. Maybe she could use that to her advantage later.
The moment her feet touched the ground, the dragonman released his hold on her body and moved away as if he’d been burned. The mixture of irritation and disgust in his eyes poked at her self-esteem.
Melanie kept her head held high. She knew she wasn’t one of the stick thin models who had to watch every damn thing they ate, but she wasn’t unhealthy. She cooked everything from scratch and enjoyed her near-daily walks. If he didn’t like what he saw, too bad. She wasn’t about to let this bastard chip away at her hard-earned self-esteem.
Not caring if her mouth got her in trouble, she said, “Stop treating and eying me like a piece of meat.”
“Why? You’re the one who offered your body to a stranger.”
“To save my brother. That makes the world of difference.”
He looked unconvinced. “Rationalize all you like, I don’t care. All that matters is that your body reacts to mine, which means I won’t have to try too hard to get you naked.”
“Why, because you’re fit? Just because you’re tall, dark, and muscled doesn’t mean anything. You’re mean, cruel, and rude. And that’s not attractive.”
“Your nipples say differently.” He turned and walked the last few paces to the door. “Now, that’s enough. It’s time to meet my clan leader.”
He knocked, opened the door, and entered the stone cottage, leaving her to stand by herself. A few of the dragon-shifters had been watching her exchange with Tristan, and they continued to stare at her. Her cheeks flushed as she realized what they must’ve overheard.
Great way to make a first impression, Hall. But she couldn’t help it. Tristan was like a lighter for her temper.
She took a deep breath and exhaled before she headed for the open cottage door. If she tried hard enough, she might do a better job of making a good impression with Stonefire’s leader. Considering she would need his approval to do any sort of write-up about his clan, she needed to temporarily put aside her issues with Tristan and morph back into the pleasant, friendly young woman she was with most people.
Inside the cottage was a large room with a desk in the far corner. Sitting at the desk was another huge, muscled man with a tattoo snaking out from under his t-shirt, signaling he was a dragon-shifter. Soon she might get the chance to see what the dragon-shifter tattoos looked like—with Tristan, at least—without a shirt getting in the way.
Speaking of the bastard, Tristan was already at the desk and speaking in a language she didn’t understand. It didn’t sound like French, German, or Spanish. Maybe the dragons had their own language, but much like what had happened to Gaelic in Scotland, it had mostly died out over the years and been replaced with English.
To avoid being completely disrespectful to Stonefire’s leader, Mel kept quiet as she approached the desk. When she finally stood next to Tristan, the leader stopped talking and fixed her with a stare.
His eyes were a deep blue that pierced right to her soul. She didn’t think she could lie to the dragonman, given the chance. While she’d had no problem speaking her mind with Tristan, everything about the man behind the desk suggested she’d better keep quiet if she knew what was good for her.