Page 23 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

Faster than it should have been. Hers was beating like a triphammer, but she couldn’t step away, couldn’t move.

She-Wolf whined softly inside her.

Emon moved his hand to cup the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair. Then he slid his palm slowly down her back, as if smoothing her wolf’s raised hackles. He did it again, and again, and Trish gradually began to relax. She closed her eyes, feeling the tension drain out of her.

And then his lips were on hers—touching, tasting, exploring. He sucked gently on her lower lip, and a rush of heat burned low through her belly.

She opened her mouth to him, her whole being focused on the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hand on her back, the feel of his heartbeat under her hand.

He pulled her to him, deepening the kiss, a low rumble beginning in his chest. She could feel his shaft hard against her, and she was melting.

Inside her own chest a ball of fire ignited, as if his dragonfire was burning through his skin into hers. He rolled his hips against her, and lightning sizzled through her blood. He was darkness and danger, hard and broken, and yet he could be so gentle.

Something uncurled deep in Trish’s belly, wild and primitive and wanting. She pressed tighter against Emon, devouring his mouth as he devoured hers. He nipped at her lower lip, then bit softly down the side of her neck to the tendon between her neck and shoulder.

NO! She-Wolf panicked, rising up inside her with a feral snarl, and Trish could feel the darkness coming for her. Her bones began snapping, her teeth bared, and then the Nightmare Wolf took her.

Chapter 12

One minute Emon was kissing Trish, and his blood was on fire.

The next minute he was faced with a snarling black wolf with feral gold eyes. They eyed each other warily, two predators: one murderously angry, one totally fucking confused.

He could sense her mind, but he didn’t feel Trish. Just the Nightmare Wolf: black turmoil, and rage, and triumph.

Free.

The word echoed in his mind. Then:

Kill.

“Trish?” he said quietly, not moving, not wanting to provoke her into attacking. He could take a wolf easily, even in his human form.

But he probably couldn’t do it without hurting her.

He reached out his hand slowly. “Trish? Are you in there?”

She couldn’t be completely gone.

For an answer, the wolf lunged at him with a snarl and bit down on his forearm, ripping through skin and muscle nearly down to the bone.

“Fuck!” he roared. He shoved her away with his free hand and with his mental power. Her jaws loosed and she flew across the disused lab, skidding on the floor. She scrambled to her feet and crouched in the dim light, growling at him. He stared her down, bracing himself for her to spring at him in another attack, trying to call on his spotty and unpredictable magic for a stasis spell.

For a second he really thought she would take him on. Then, with another warning snarl, she turned and ran, streaking across the lab and out the far door in a blur of darkness, claws clattering on the stone floor.

Dammit!

He ran to the door but she was already gone, across the landing and down the main staircase that led to the Great Hall on the first floor.

He ran after her, but he only got as far as the second floor before hearing a huge crash of glass below, as she jumped through one of the goddamn windows and vanished into the night.

Moments later Tristan appeared on the stairs, his long blond braids half-undone and messy from sleep. Seeing Emon, he demanded, “What the fuck? Where’s Trish?”

“Bounding across the courtyard on her way out to kill things, probably,” Emon said savagely.

Tristan gaped at him. “She went wolf? In here?” He shook his head. “I felt something. It woke me up. But…” His gaze darkened. “What did you do to her?”

Kissed her. But there was no way he was telling that to Tristan. He didn’t need another angry wolf on his hands.