Page 20 of Hot for the Dragon (Saltwater Grove #3)

20

ARCHER

A rcher's knuckles whitened on the Corvette's steering wheel as he sped through the darkened streets. His dragon still roared beneath his skin. The urge to shift and hunt down Ned was nearly overwhelming. The memory of finding Ned in his dragon form cornering Daphne replayed in his mind. His dragon blood had never burned hotter. The primal rage that coursed through him had been unlike anything he'd experienced in all his years of fighting. The mere thought of Ned's claws anywhere near Daphne made his vision blur red.

His enhanced hearing picked up Daphne's steady heartbeat in the passenger seat, the sound anchoring him to the present. When he'd swooped down and seen her backed against that wall, something fundamental had shifted inside him. The realization that she'd become essential to his world hit him like a physical blow.

"You're sure you weren't hurt?" He glanced at her for the tenth time since they'd started driving.

"I'm fine." Daphne's voice was steady, though her hands twisted in her lap. "Thanks to you."

The streetlights cast alternating shadows across her face. His enhanced vision caught every detail - the slight tremor in her fingers, the way she kept checking the side mirrors. His protective instincts surged.

"Pack whatever you need quickly." He pulled up to her house, scanning the area for threats. "I don't want us exposed any longer than necessary."

"Archer, are you sure about this? I don't want to impose-"

"This isn't up for discussion." The words came out harsher than intended. He softened his tone. "Please. I need to keep you safe."

The admission cost him, but the relief in her eyes made it worth it. She nodded and slipped out of the car.

Archer followed close behind with every sense alert for danger. His dragon prowled beneath his skin, ready to emerge at the first signs of trouble. The night air carried only normal scents - cut grass, car exhaust, the lingering sweetness of Daphne's floral magic. But he couldn't relax.

Inside her small house, he positioned himself by the window while she packed, watching the street. The sound of drawers opening and closing and hangers sliding across metal rods filled the silence. His mind kept replaying Ned's attack, imagining worse outcomes. If he'd been a minute later...

"Ready." Daphne appeared with a small suitcase and overnight bag.

Archer took both bags before she could protest. "Let's go."

The drive to his mansion was tense, neither speaking as he took evasive routes to ensure they weren't being followed. Only when they passed through his gates did some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Daphne was under his protection now. And he'd tear apart anyone who tried to harm her.

Archer shouldered open the heavy oak door to his best guest suite, depositing Daphne's bags inside. Moonlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting silver patterns across the plush carpet. His enhanced senses caught the lingering scent of wood polish and fresh linens - his housekeeper had been thorough, even though he never had visitors.

"Bathroom's through there." He gestured to a door on the right. "Kitchen's downstairs if you get hungry."

Daphne wandered to the center of the room, her fingers trailing along the carved bedpost. "This is beautiful."

Pride swelled within him - he'd carved those bedposts himself, though he wasn't about to admit it. The dragon in him preened at providing such luxurious shelter for her.

He turned to leave, his boots silent on the thick carpet. His protective instincts screamed to stay close, but she probably needed space after everything that happened.

"Archer?" Her voice was soft, uncertain. "Would you mind staying? Just for a little while?"

He froze, one hand on the doorframe. The request caught him completely off guard. People didn't ask him to stay - they usually couldn't wait for him to leave. But there was something in her tone that made his chest ache.

The memory of her pressed against him after the attack, trembling but trying so hard to be brave, flashed through his mind. His dragon rumbled with the need to comfort and to protect.

He turned back slowly and studied her face. The usual sparkle in her green eyes was dimmed, though she managed a small smile. She'd put on a brave face during the drive, but now he could see the evening's events had shaken her more than she'd let on.

Archer settled on the edge of the four-poster bed. The moonlight streaming through the windows cast shadows from his wood carvings across Daphne's face. His dragon instincts still bristled at the night's events, but her presence next to him had an oddly calming effect.

"Tell me more about your plans for the shop on Belladonna Boulevard," he said, keeping his voice low and gentle. "The one you mentioned before."

Her eyes lit up, pushing away some of the fear from earlier. "Well, the front window is perfect for displays. I could showcase seasonal arrangements, maybe even some of your wood carvings mixed in."

His dragon preened at the thought of his work displayed alongside her creations. She shifted closer as she spoke, her shoulder brushing against his arm.

"And there's this amazing space in the back that would make the perfect greenhouse," she continued. "I could grow rare specimens, maybe even some magical varieties."

Her enthusiasm was infectious. Archer found himself leaning in, drawn by her animated gestures and the way her eyes sparkled when she described her vision. The scent of roses and earth that always clung to her filled his senses.

Without thinking, he placed his hand on her thigh. The touch sent electricity through his palm. His dragon roared to claim her, mark her, make her his. But he held back.

To his surprise, instead of pulling away, Daphne placed her hand over his. Her fingers were warm and delicate against his skin. The simple gesture made his heart pound harder than any battle ever had.

"The windows face east," she said softly, "so the morning light would fill the whole space."

They were so close now he could count her eyelashes, see the flecks of gold in her green eyes. It would take nothing to close that final distance, to taste those lips that had been tempting him for weeks. His dragon demanded it.

But the memory of her fear earlier held him back.

Daphne's enthusiastic smile faded, her shoulders slumping. "Who am I kidding? My shop's gone. Insurance will barely cover the damage, let alone fund a new location. And Belladonna Boulevard..." She shook her head. "That dream's probably dead."

Without thinking again, Archer laced his fingers through hers where they rested on her lap. Her skin felt like silk against his palm, sending sparks of electricity up his arm. His dragon practically purred at the contact.

"You're one of the most stubborn people I've ever met," he said. "And I've known some hard-headed dragons. If anyone can make this happen, it's you."

The warmth of her hand in his consumed his thoughts. In all his life, he'd never experienced anything like this - this overwhelming need to protect, to comfort, to claim. His heart thundered so loud he was certain she must hear it.

Daphne squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing across his knuckles. "Thank you. For believing in me. And for saving my life tonight."

The moonlight caught the tears gathering in her eyes, making them sparkle like emeralds. Her lips parted slightly as she looked up at him, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to close the distance between them, to taste those perfect lips, to make her his.

His dragon clawed at his control, demanding he claim her here and now. But he couldn't. Even if holding her hand felt more right than anything had in his entire life.

So he stayed still, fighting every urge to pull her closer, memorizing the feel of her fingers intertwined with his. For now, this would have to be enough.

Daphne's delicate yawn broke the spell between them. Archer's dragon instincts immediately shifted from wanting to claim her to ensuring she got proper rest after her ordeal.

"You should sleep," he said, reluctantly releasing her hand. The loss of contact left his palm cold and empty.

"I suppose you're right." Daphne's voice held a note of disappointment that made his heart skip. "Thank you again, Archer. For everything."

He stood, forcing himself to step away before he did something foolish like pull her into his arms. "Get some rest. I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

Back in his own bedroom, Archer paced the length of the spacious room, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floors. The scent of roses and earth still clung to his clothes, driving his dragon half mad with wanting. He stripped off his shirt, hoping the cool night air would clear his head. It didn't help.

"Damn it," he muttered. There was no more denying it - he was completely, irrevocably in love with Daphne Throne. The realization should have terrified him. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as inevitable as the sunrise.

His dragon prided itself at the admission, but reality crashed back quickly. Carmen's threat loomed over them like storm clouds. Getting involved now would only put Daphne in more danger. And even if they survived this mess...

Archer caught his reflection in the window - scarred, dangerous, marked by his violent past. What right did he have to pursue someone as pure hearted as Daphne? She deserved better than an ex-wing enforcer with blood on his hands.

"She's too good for you," he told his reflection. His dragon snarled in disagreement, but Archer knew it was true.

He'd protect her, keep her safe until this crisis passed. Then she'd go back to her flowers and sunshine, and he'd return to his solitude. It was better that way.

But as he lay in bed, all he could think about was the softness of her hand in his, and how perfectly she fit against him when she'd hugged him earlier. Sleep would elude him tonight.