Page 41

Jaz

Yani shot me an unreadable expression, but I turned away to run after Rhodes. I caught up to him in the hall.

If we were truly headed for any kind of intimate engagement, this was not a promising start. His expression was remote and stiff as he paused. That wasn’t a surprise, as Rhodes had always had an aloof edge to him.

How was I going to get all warm and fuzzy, or rather—hot and horny, with this guy? A cold kind of grope session was far more likely. But if it saved Zyair, it would be worth it.

His tail twitched hard as he rubbed a hand over his face. “This was not what I imagined for our first time.”

“You imagined us together?” I asked, surprised.

“I did.” He looked fully at me then, and what I saw in his eyes robbed me of breath. “And I do .”

Wow. Nothing like tall, dark, and lethal to make the knees weak. Perhaps the grope session would be a little more interesting than I’d assumed…

“Fetch your paper and pencils,” he said. “Meet me in the starboard storage bay in thirty minutes. ”

He stalked off in that direction, leaving me gasping for breath and wondering what the hell he wanted with my art supplies.

My mind spun with questions as I collected my drawing pad and sketching pencils. On a whim, I grabbed my box of charcoal too. I loved the dimension it added to shadows and highlights. If only I had any idea what I would be drawing…

I had enough time for a sonic shower, so I did that and then stood debating clothes. Why hadn’t I packed something sexy to wear? Because, my inner bitch insisted, I hadn’t planned on getting laid by three fucking Drakes.

She had a point. I put on three different outfits, all of which were great for piloting a ship. Not so much for screwing a grumpy dragon.

It was well past the requisite thirty minutes by the time I activated the starboard storage bay door. The main lights had been shut off. I could barely see the panels we’d welded along the wall.

Rhodes had been busy. In the center of the bay was a mattress with blankets neatly folded back. Surrounding it were small lanterns used for emergencies. They cast tiny circles of soft, warm light across the cold metal, and completely transformed the space to something almost—beautiful.

Rhodes sat on the floor beside the mattress with one leg curled up and his arm resting on the bent knee. He’d tied his long hair into a knot at the base of his neck. His wings arced over him, and his tail was tucked along his leg.

The Drake was completely naked. The scattered lights picked up every detail of muscle, skin, and bone.

“You have drawn dragons,” he rumbled when I froze in the doorway. “Have you ever drawn a Drake?”

My mouth opened, and closed again. “No.” My voice did not sound like my own.

His brow tweaked. “Have you practiced drawing from real life?”

I bit my lip. “I usually just do it from my imagination.”

He gestured to the mattress. “It was the best I could do on short notice,” he said apologetically. “Better than sitting on the floor.”

“You’re sitting on the floor,” I pointed out.

One corner of his lips twitched up. “I can stand, if you would rather.”

Sitting, certain things were hidden by his lifted leg. Standing, he would be revealed in all his significant glory.

I doubted that would help my accuracy any.

“Sitting is fine,” I said quickly, and settled to the mattress. My fingers shook as I took out my pencils and began to sketch him.

The light was particularly challenging, coming as it did from multiple points. But the familiarity of rendering something three dimensional to paper relaxed me. I quickly found myself immersed in my craft.

I’d only been at it a few minutes when he said, “That looks worthy. Do you ever”—he hesitated—“experiment?”

I eyed him. “Like how?”

He reached out with the arm he’d braced on his knee. “Take my hand.”

I hesitantly obeyed. It wasn’t as broad as Xandros’s. The fingers were proportionately longer, the bones close beneath the skin. I traced my own along his fingers, noting the strength despite the flexibility.

“Now draw it.” His voice was slightly hoarse.

Instead of using a pencil, I picked up the charcoal. Drew his hand not as I’d seen it, but as I’d felt it.

“Ahh…” he breathed. “Now, the arm.”

This time, it was me who hesitated, but then my hands went there all on their own. The muscles were like steel, the skin silky smooth. On paper, I drew the fine curve of muscle, the way it fell along the bones.

Next, he had me do his feet, with their exotic long toes and short talons. The calf, up to the thigh—my fingers shook when the big muscles tightened beneath my touch. But what I transferred to paper had a dimension I’d never rendered before.

I paused when he had me move around behind him—the wings emerged from a shoulder joint that had never graced any human. And across the span of his back was a spectacular tattoo of a flying dragon.

“That is beautiful,” I said.

“I prefer the one you did in the bunkhouse,” he confessed.

I didn’t think my drawing was nearly as good, but something inside me warmed at the compliment. I focused on the task at hand—so graceful, yet powerful, and the chest muscles that drove them were truly glorious…

He reached out and captured my hand, before pulling it to his face. “Now this,” he whispered.

His face was narrower than Xandros’s or Zyair’s, the bones of cheek and jaw clearly outlined beneath the skin. If I could capture even half of the guarded kind of arrogance in Rhodes’s eyes, it would be one hell of a picture.

His long fingers drifted up my cheek to my eyes, where they gently rested on the lids.

“Close them,” he rumbled. “ Feel me.”

The air seemed to vibrate around him. Every fiber of my awareness was in my fingertips as I built a mental image of the planes of his brow, cheek, and jaw. The surprising softness of his skin over hard bone…

My breathing grew increasingly ragged, my focus fracturing…

He guided my hand lower, and lower, and repeated, “Feel me.”

And feel him I did… My stick of charcoal dropped from my fingers.

“Have you ever kissed someone?” I asked breathlessly.

“A few times.” His lip twitched upward.

“I had to teach Zyair.”

His eyes glowed, and he snorted softly. “Zyair has denied himself the pleasure of female company for far too long. He has coped by reading human books that are full of sexual exploits.”

“He does read erotic novels!” With my suspicions confirmed, it certainly explained some things. Although the characters in most of those novels didn’t have vibrating tails…

Rhodes tilted his head. “Oh, yes. Of course, I told him of what I learned. Would you like a demonstration?”

“I’d very much like a demonstration.” It came out sounding slightly desperate. Which I was. If this entire artistic thing had been set up to make me hot for him—it had totally worked. His scent swirled around me—evoking images of leather and the sharp aroma of a thunderstorm.

I hungered like he’d been running his hands over me for an hour.

The way his eyes glowed at me, the arrogance in the set of his jaw—those things fired something deep inside. Something that demanded that I rise to him.

“Kiss me, Rhodes.” This time, it came out as an order.

His hand moved to cup the back of my head. “Try to stop me,” he growled, and moved his bent leg out to the side.

It exposed what my hands had already discovered. Fucking hell. These Drakes were impressive .

From the first touch, it was as though my very soul leaped to join his. I ached for the culmination of the mating bond between all three brothers—if this wasn’t Fate, I didn’t know what was.

Heat pulsed through to my core as he pulled me to kneel in a cradling position between his legs. The lips that touched my own weren’t hesitant, like Zyair, or gentle, like Xandros, but rather powerful and claiming, his tongue expertly gaining entrance to dance with mine.

Meanwhile, his fingers slid up beneath my shirt and paused at the clasp of my bra.

“No slicing,” I whispered against his lips.

“Is that a request?” Rhodes undid the tiny hooks with a suspicious level of expertise. “Very well, I will indulge you this once. Why would I slice?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“Zyair…” I breathed.

“Has clearly scarred you for life,” he finished. “I will talk with him.” Then he cupped my breasts, trailing a light talon over the aching peaks, and I lost track of the conversation.

Somehow—I suspected tail involvement—he managed to send me to breast heaven while removing my shirt and bra.

I was only aware of my hands roaming his body—so different from his brothers, with much leaner muscles hugging his frame, but so perfectly sculpted that I couldn’t get enough of the feel of him.

They moved across the span of his pecs, and down, across his washboard abs?—

Then they reached for what jutted between us, and his lips curled beneath mine as his fingers entrapped my wrist and pulled me away.

“Not yet, little Draka,” he said, and his tail whipped around my waist, lifting to lay me across his lap.

When I tried to sit up, to touch him, he flattened a warning hand across my stomach. “Lie still,” he rumbled, “Or I will have to make you.”

Words that would have ordinarily had me spitting fire melted me instead. He spread his legs wide so that my shoulders lay against one iron-hard thigh, while the other supported behind my own.

As he resumed kissing me, and one hand continued to pinch my nipples to rigid and aching status, his tail unwrapped itself, and began to dance. It was everywhere at once, sometimes probing, most often rubbing, before it sneaked its way between my thighs, and explored .

I’d thought that their eyes were the most alien thing about the Drakes, but I was wrong. It was their tail—yet when Rhodes’s pressed to go deeper, I opened for it. It searched hungrily and found what it sought—then, it began to vibrate .