“The only stupid question is the one not asked,” I told myself, and returned to our floor. I had just put my hand on the doorknob when the door was yanked open, Rowan standing in the doorway, his eyes blazing, and half the room alight with dragon fire.
“RUN!” he roared, and I swear to the goddess the glass in the portholes rattled. His image seemed to shimmer and blur, just the way the air did before the First Dragon showed up. And for a fraction of a second, for a fraction of that fraction, Rowan’s image shifted to that of a red dragon. It was so quick that I wondered if I had even seen it.
My brain didn’t wonder. It registered the fact that there was an impossibly scary thing roaring and smoking and setting fire to everything right there in front of me, and instantly I was running, racing down the hallway, leaping down flights of stairs so fast it was all a blur to me.
All my mind knew was that something big and bad was out there, and I was in its sights.
The very bottom level of the ship was given over to the engines, the electrical works, and things like a minuscule laundry and a kitchen. As I tore down the hallways, careening around corners, I scattered apologies behind me to all the ship’s staff whom I crashed into. My ears were deafened to all but one sound: Rowan.
I heard him even as I ran up the employees’ staircase at the aft of the ship, a small, narrow, dimly lit metal structure that heightened the sound of a man pounding down the passage behind me.
It was exhilarating, this chase, and yet at the same time scary as hell. I wanted to tell Rowan to stop it instantly, while begging him to do it every single night. I was just wondering how long it would take me to get back up to our cabin when I rounded a corner and caught sight of a figure just behind me.
I screamed and flung myself at the nearest door, which was, luckily, unlocked. I slammed it behind me, and looked wildly around the room for somewhere to hide. There was only one light on in the adjacent bathroom, leaving the rest of the room dim. It was one of the lower cost cabins, containing two bunks, a tiny little round table, and two suitcases neatly stacked one on top of the other.
That’s all I saw before the door was thrown open with enough force that it left a mark on the wall. Rowan stood silhouetted in the doorway for a moment before stalking in. I jumped when he slammed the door shut behind him, and backed up as he approached, alternately watching him and desperately trying to find an avenue of escape.
“There is none,” he said, obviously guessing my thoughts. “You’re mine now. I claim you.”
My inner wyvern’s mate squealed with happiness. The primitive part of my brain was telling me to run. I bumped up against the wall, swallowing hard when he took two big steps and then was at me, his body pressing me against the cool, smooth wooden panel.
“Rowan,” I said, hiccupping back a laugh. “We can’t do this here.”
“Why not?” he said in what was more or less a growl. A sexy growl, one I felt to the tips of my toenails.
“Because this isn’t our cabin. We can’t have sex in someone else’s bed. That’s just rude. You wouldn’t want someone to do that to us.”
The light from the bathroom slanted across his face. He frowned as he thought about that, then grabbed me by the waist, and hoisted me upward, using his body to hold me into place. “Then we’ll do it standing up.”
A little quiver of excitement ran through me—oh, who was I fooling, by now my entire body was one giant erogenous zone, just waiting for Rowan to touch me. I grabbed his shoulders, and pulled my knees up, hoisting myself a little higher when he placed my legs around his hips.
“This is going to have to be quick,” he said in the same low, rough voice that seemed to stroke across my skin like velvet. “I hope you’re ready.”
“I was ready ten minutes ago. Eons ago. I’ve been ready for you since the dawn of—Rowan!” He ripped off my underwear, just grabbed it with both hands and snapped the narrow straps, letting the material fall to the floor. “That’s my only undies!”
“You can go without,” he mumbled, working on his fly.
“Are you crazy? I can’t go commando. Not with the short skirts—hooo, Nelly!”
He thrust into me with one smooth, forceful move that left my entire body quivering in pleasure, my intimate muscles doing a little shimmy of welcome and basically singing songs of praise about Rowan.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t… you don’t know what the chase does… I have to… tell me you don’t need more time,” he said in a near pleading voice. “I don’t think I can stop.”