Page 6 of Drawn by Dragonblood (Blood Born #1)

A flicker of something I couldn’t name passed over Jon’s face, but it was far from trepidation or even anger. He’d claimed to be straight as long as I’d known him, but…

I glanced down.

Jon was hard, a wet spot at the clear outline of his swollen cockhead firmly pressed against his jeans.

Swallowing a gasp, I couldn’t help the pulse that clenched my pussy, causing an ache to radiate through my core.

“Want to take him up on his offer?” Jon asked me even though his gaze fixed on Elijah as though he was unable to tear his eyes off the man.

Mouth dry, I attempted to swallow and failed.

My gaze collided with Elijah’s atop Jon’s head, the moisture in my body pooling between my thighs at the barely restrained primal urge to claim residing in his eyes.

Fantasy. Not real , I told myself firmly even though my inner voice shook in time with the jitters inside my belly.

The man could prove to be a danger to my marriage if I didn’t get my head screwed on properly. Forcing my eyes downward, I slipped my hand into Jon’s.

“It’s up to you,” I managed to whisper, leaving the decision to him as I always did since I refused to be responsible for causing heartache again.

My husband finally turned his focus on me, studying my face. Did he see the war raging inside me? My fearful hesitation and hungry desire to say yes? Did he notice both?

Blue eyes, darker than Elijah’s but no less potent in intensity, peered into mine. The world slowly faded around us as I wove myself in the cocoon of the comfort Jon and I had shared for as long as I could remember. I found myself smiling as I always did when drowning in Jon’s love.

His unexpected double-dimpled smile made my shoulders relax even though sexual tension and energy lay heavy over our camp. There was no way in hell Jon would gift me that grin if he’d been jealous.

“Let’s go.” Jon squeezed my hand and stood, pulling me up beside him.

My heart thumping at the prospect of spending more time with the alpha god who had snuck up on us, I rolled our sleeping bag with shaking hands while Jon put out the fire. In five minutes, we started southward behind Elijah, his wide shoulders and sure strides leading us forward.

We didn’t follow a trail, but I didn’t sense any wariness from Jon who walked behind me.

“You’ve lived out here your whole life?” Jon asked as I fought to keep my focus on the ground rather than the flexing ass encased in jeans ahead of me.

“Yes. I’ve explored every inch of this forest and these peaks.” Elijah swept his hand from east to west.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Elijah turned his head slightly, allowing me a glimpse of his strong profile. The straight nose, the full lips, and that sexy as hell soul patch beneath the lower I wanted to lick and capture on camera called to me on a deep level.

I shook my head against the otherworldly urge to crowd closer to his energy and focused on picking my way over rocks and tree roots.

Unease should have prickled the hairs on my neck over a complete stranger in the middle of government land claiming to have a house close by and offering to shelter us from a storm.

My mind should have gone to what anyone would have thought—the guy must be a psycho mass murderer, luring us into his lair where he would chain us up, torture us. ..

Lust slickened the inside of my panties in a fresh drench of arousal rather than fear curdling my stomach. I bit on my lower lip to keep a moan contained.

What the actual hell ?

Had Elijah put a spell on us? Drugged my libido with pheromones to lure unsuspecting victims like my sexy book boyfriends in the paranormal romance books I devoured?

Jon appreciated the aftereffects of my losing myself in stories, but that was fantasy .

Shivers wracked my body regardless of the truth, causing goose bumps to erupt over my skin.

Make-believe , I told myself yet again, focusing on Elijah’s tight ass.

He was nothing but a hot guy with empathy for strangers in his mountains.

A kind man who wouldn’t hurt a fly even though the muscle mass barely contained by his tight hoodie suggested he could take on a dozen Jons and still be standing—alone—when the smoke cleared.

The wind intensified as we descended a steep slope, neither of us hesitating to follow Elijah. We headed westward through a valley, sprinkles falling from the dark sky and dampening our clothing. A well-worn path with man-made rock steps once more took us higher into the mountain.

I pulled up abruptly as a stone patio opened in front of us. A wall of glass, sliding doors and reflective windows lay beyond, reaching up the rock face.

My jaw dropped.

Elijah’s house was actually a cave. A gorgeous, what must have cost millions to create, house in the side of a mountain one would miss unless they’d taken the exact path we had. His home was like something out of Middle Earth but much bigger than anything a hobbit would need.

I couldn’t see through the dark glass, and as my head tilted back, my gaze scanning the rock cliff, I noted a few other windows set in stone, a couple with small wrought-iron balconies attached.

“Holy shit,” Jon said from behind me, echoing my exact thought.

I murmured a similar sentiment, eyes wide and still drinking in the striking beauty that promised safety and comfort regardless of being crafted from cold stone.

Elijah moved toward one of the sliders. Atop, etched in granite, lay writing unlike anything I’d ever seen.

“Welcome,” he said, sliding one door open and revealing a sunken living room and dimly lit kitchen beyond. A classical tune played softly from somewhere inside, strings filled with sadness. The notes stroked over my emotions, thickening my throat.

I stumbled forward without hesitation, unable to withstand the draw of that imaginary cinch between me and Elijah, Jon close on my heels.

Rather than reaching for me as I half-expected, our host stepped back, allowing us entry.

I stepped into dry warmth that carried Elijah’s alluring scent that hinted of fire and a sweet spice similar to cinnamon.

My feet abruptly halted, jaw dropping while gazing at the high rock ceiling and the cut-in-stone stairs winding up the right side of the massive cavern.

Two stairs directly ahead led down into the living room with its massive fireplace on the far wall.

“Sybil, music off,” Elijah said from behind my left, and immediately, the haunting melody cut out, leaving us in near silence.

“Your home is beautiful,” I said, my gaze flitting to the kitchen with its top-end appliances and vast counter space.

“Thank you.” Elijah whispered words close to my ear, and I shivered as he grasped my backpack. “May I?”

I turned my head, our gazes colliding.

His pale eyes appeared to glow in the dim light coming from who the hell knew where. My breath hitched, my pulse once more thrumming over his nearness.

Swallowing, I nodded and shrugged the straps off my arms, my focus flitting behind me to Jon, who pulled the slider shut while watching Elijah’s every move.

Rather than scowling, he stared at our host with blatant hunger on his face I was well acquainted with.

The closeness of the three of us made itself known when I realized I could feel the heat of both of their bodies.

I should have been itching to run, insisting on leaving this strangeness that had tilted my world off its axis, but nothing about Elijah or his home raised internal alarms. That undeniable energy among us hummed through me with a deeper, richer intensity than when he’d first arrived in our camp.

But it went far beyond mere lust for physical satisfaction, more along the lines of a sense of comfort, evoking a feeling of…

Home .

The word caressed my mind, and I studied the man who’d always been that for me.

Jon stood at complete ease as though unthreatened by Elijah and our surroundings. That hint of tension from his shoulders and mouth had vanished as they stared at each other.

Did he experience the same feelings of finding our place as I did? Why hadn’t our tiny apartment in New York ever offered us the same?

My husband blinked as though waking from a trance and turned toward me with a smile, bumping my elbow with his own. “Hell of a lot better than trudging through the rain, huh?”

I attempted a smile in response that wobbled. “Definitely.”

Jon slipped off his own pack but held it in his hands when Elijah didn’t set mine down.

“Come.” Elijah motioned toward the stairs with his free hand while moving away from us.

I was easily urged to follow his command—do whatever the hell he demanded.

“I’ll show you to a guest room where you can shower. Would either of you care for coffee? Tea?” he asked, leading the way toward the winding stairs.

Same as down the mountain, Jon followed on my heels.

“Real coffee?” Jon asked.

“Freshly ground beans and French press real,” Elijah replied with a light chuckle while climbing the stone risers.

“Thank fuck, and yes, please.”

I laughed at Jon’s mutter. He’d been full of complaints over the instant “shit” he had been sipping every morning on the trail. The man loved his coffee, piping hot and black as sin.

A hallway opened ahead of us, wide enough we could walk side by side without bumping.

An occasional section of rock wall jutted out, man-made with stones so snugly stacked together I couldn’t find a trace of mortar.

I trailed my fingers over the strangely warm granite, realizing the overhead lights brightened as we approached and faded to dim behind us.

Maybe we had fallen into Middle Earth somehow, I mused rather than focusing on the fact a mountain rose above us.

The ancient cave should have constricted my lungs, but fresh air filled the space, the high ceilings keeping my usual claustrophobia at bay.

Rather than feeling closed in, I experienced tranquility seeping into my bones regardless of the continuing fire-like passion Elijah’s presence had awoken inside me.

He opened one of the massive oaken doors lining the rock wall and motioned us inside. “This will be your room for the duration of your stay,” he said, his low rumbling voice like a hot tongue lapping at my swollen, aching clit.

I squeezed my thighs together.

“There is a full bathroom to your right,” he continued, unaware of how deeply he affected my body.

A glass slider ahead let in a bit of natural light as rain slashed against it. One of the balconies I’d noticed from the veranda lay outside with its wrought iron rail. Lightning flashed across the sky beyond.

A similar storm continued to rage inside me, a desperate need for release.

“Just in time,” Jon said, setting his backpack on the floor.

Dangling lights slowly brightened as though welcoming guests but not by a dimmer switch. I glanced back at Elijah who stood by the door with his hands clasped in front of him.

A gentle smile lifted his full lips, hardening my nipples to tight points even my sweatshirt couldn’t hide.

I tore my gaze off him and glanced around, taking in the wonder of his ridiculously crazy home that was just as alluring as he was.

The rock ceiling soared overhead. A huge bed lay on the left, a small, antique bench at its foot.

Two bureaus sat against one wall, thick throw rugs bracketed the bed’s frame, and an open door on the right beckoned me.

I moved across the room, all too aware of Elijah’s gaze on me, and paused in the doorway. The bathroom dwarfed our entire one-room apartment. It contained a large sunken bathtub, double sinks, and a shower big enough for three.

A shiver licked down my spine at the image of Elijah, Jon, and me beneath the spray together, steam and the scent of sex flooding the space as they both filled me to bursting, first with their cocks then cum.

Something inside me purred like a happy kitten, an inner noise I’d never heard before.

Jon cleared his throat, and I blinked the vivid, mouthwatering image of the three of us together away.

I don’t want anyone other than Jon , I told myself, adding a few swear words for good measure to make sure my traitorous body got the hint.

The door to the bedroom clicked shut, and Jon’s arms wrapped around me from behind, his chin on my shoulder. “You okay?” he asked, his breath hot against my ear.

It wasn’t the right time for words—especially since I had no clue how to verbalize everything I’d experienced since Elijah had appeared in our camp.

I turned my face toward my husband and attacked his mouth with all my pent-up lust, my soul needing to connect with his again, to remind us both that I belonged to him alone.