Page 9 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

Where no one had been standing a minute ago.

It could only be one person.

“You’re Emon,” she croaked, her throat dry from the sudden shock. “The Darkwing Dragon.”

Holy fuck. Him. Here. Now.

She had not even heard him come in. Or scented him. How the fuck could that happen?

He shouldn’t be here yet. She was totally unprepared. To make him like her. Or deal with his immense presence. It filled the room, pressing on her chest, like an alpha wolf on steroids.

“I saw you,” she said inanely. “Outside my window.”

Duh.

He raised his eyes to her. His were glittering green, hard and bright like emeralds.

“I was curious about you.”

Curious enough to break into her room like a sexy stealth ninja, apparently. She wasn’t sure that was a good thing. No. Probably not. Although at least he couldn’t eat her in this form. Well, not in the bad bitey death kind of way. Only in the sex kind of way. Heat rushed to her core.

Oh, shit. Stop thinking that.

“And I saw you in the courtyard,” she went on, queen of the obvious, her mouth continuing to move on its own with no input from her brain. Probably because all the blood had rushed south, between her legs. “I thought for a second there you were going to carry me off to your lair.”

He didn’t deny it. “Technically, this whole place is my lair,” he said. He gazed at her, his look predatory and assessing, the rest of him sexy as sin. “Unless you mean the underground dungeon where I chain up the pretty maidens I kidnap, and do terrible, evil, perverted things to them.”

Okay, he was messing with her now. Probably. Although that didn’t stop her lady parts from wanting to do something really stupid. And dammit, by the look on his face, he knew it.

He added, “Don’t worry. My lair is soundproof. No one will hear you screaming.” He waited a beat. “Or panting. Or howling.” His gaze dropped to her boobs, and then her crotch, before returning to her face.

Definitely messing with her. Unfortunately for him, she’d grown up with Rafe Connors, the sexual innuendo champion of the entire western United States. Not only was she immune, she could embarrass the fuck out of him with one paw tied behind her back.

“FYI, wolves like it from behind,” she said. “And I hope you’re not the kind of guy who wants a blow job and then just rolls over and goes to sleep, without the girl getting even a teeny, weeny little orgasm. Because that’s just rude.”

Oh, shit. She wasn’t supposed to be embarrassing him. She was supposed to be making him like her.

Luckily, her smartassiness seemed to amuse him instead—at least, his mouth twisted in what she thought was a smile. Kind of a.

“Is that an offer?” he asked.

No. Yes? Even without a smile, he was melt-your-panties hot. Big, muscled all over, with wavy black hair that still looked windswept and sexy, chiseled features, and those emerald eyes.

“Show me your sex dungeon, and we’ll talk.” No, no no no. Yes, her lady-parts said. Definitely yes.

He gave a snort of almost-laughter. She’d made him laugh. At least it meant he wasn’t feeling murdery. Probably.

“So is that what happens in these books?” He nodded at the gothic romances fanned out in his hands. Sexy hands. Large and strong.

“God, no,” she said. “These are old-school. They have no sex at all in them.”

He looked perplexed. “Then what’s the point?”

Mental sigh. Men. The point was… wait, what was the point of no sex again? Oh, right.

“Romance,” she said. “Passion, longing, soulmates…” He didn’t look convinced. She sighed out loud. “There’s more to life than your dick, you know.”

Whoops. She put her hand over her mouth. You didn’t talk to a prince about his dick. Especially when you just met him.