Page 26 of Dark Dragon’s Wolf

He dropped to his knees beside her. “I tried to make it home,” he said. “But I never quite felt like I fit in.”

He moved around behind her and wrapped the robe-towel around her hair, slowly rubbing it dry. “I do miss the Bad Bloods,” he said. “As fucked-up as they are. They’re my brothers. And sister.”

And they’d been through so much together. Flynn, their grumpy and possibly insane lion alpha, Jasmin the totally badass jaguar who loved to cook. Xander the panther—wild and crazy, with a huge heart buried under his mountains of attitude. Sloan, the quiet one, who was always there when they needed him.

And grizzly bear Tank, the best friend he’d ever had.

Even though Silverlake had his sister and the healers he’d needed, even though Trish had been an amazing friend to him there, he missed the Bad Bloods all the time.

“Would you go back?” she asked.

“Maybe.” He didn’t know, now. If Mayah needed him—if there was even a tiny chance things would work out for them—he would stay here as long as she’d let him.

He wondered if she’d ever consider going to live with the Bad Bloods, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t know what this was between them, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to risk fucking it up by presuming she’d want to follow him wherever he went.

And anyway, she was a princess. With a castle. Why would she want to go live in a cabin in the woods?

He moved the towel down over her shoulders, down her breasts, rubbing her dry. She leaned her head back on his shoulder, making happy sexy noises.

He abandoned the towel, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples with his fingers until they turned to hard pink pebbles. Her dragon rumbled deep in her chest, and his hands stilled in surprise.

“She’s back!”

“Of course she is.” Mayah turned to face him, her eyes glowing green, with slitted catlike pupils. “How do you think I got all the way out here? I flew.”

Tristan stared. “Did I do that? Bring her back?”

Mayah rolled her eyes. “Yes. Why do you always assume you suck at everything?”

“Because I usually do.”

Mayah put her hands flat on his chest. “I can think of several things you don’t suck at,” she told him, pushing him backward. “And I want to do them all again. Plus everything else I can think of.”

This time it was slow and sweet. Mayah explored his body, getting that sexy wicked smile on her face every time she discovered a new place that made him shiver or suck in his breath when she touched it.

He discovered she loved kissing. It made her soft and wet and wanting, rubbing herself up against him like she could never touch him enough, her dragon purring.

And when she drew her tongue up his shaft and slowly took him in her mouth, he thought he might as well die right there.

She straddled his shaft and took him inside of her, slow and leisurely, closing her eyes and letting the sensations take her away.

He didn’t close his eyes—he couldn’t bear not to watch the play of light on her skin, the way she looked transported in ecstasy because he was touching her.

It was like floating away on an ocean of emotion and sensation, the waves rising and rising, until he had to pull her close and feel her all around him so he wouldn’t lose himself.

But he did anyway. The waves took him, and he held onto Mayah because she was the only thing keeping him from drowning, and then he went under, pushing into her harder, rolling with the waves.

I’m here, she said softly in his mind. We’re together…

And he was okay again.

A long time later, Mayah lay next to Tristan inside her magical hut. She’d dimmed the light globe to a romantic glow, and was running her fingers through Tristan’s half-dried hair.

He lay on his stomach, his chin on his folded arms as she combed her fingers through the silky blond strands, spreading them out across his back.

He’d gone quiet again, pulling back into himself the way he so often did. He’d let her in, just for a little while, letting her touch him and love him and be there for him, and now he’d shut the doors again.

His mind still had so many closed-off parts. Festering wounds, that would never heal as long as they stayed in the darkness.