Page 3

Riley

Bacon

The most delicious smells surrounded me. Campfire and brown sugar. Something smoky and sweet, rich like dark chocolate. It reminded me of s’mores with my dad and mom. A camping trip the three of us had taken back when I was twelve. The stars were so bright then. Earthquakes weren’t real––just yearly drills we practiced in school, hiding under the safety of our desks.

I felt safe again now.

That’s how I knew I was dreaming.

My heart started to race before I even opened my eyes. I took inventory of my body. Everything hurt. Nothing new there. At least I was still alive.

Alive and where?

I blinked, coming face to face with a fluffy white pillow. It was unbelievably soft. And so was this bed. A stranger’s bed.

What the hell happened?

Slowly, I pushed myself up off the mattress, terrified of what I’d find. The world came back to me in a whoosh as the blood rushed from my head.

How long have I been lying down?

Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains drifting on the breeze from an open window. Birds chirped from somewhere outside.

I was lying under a white down duvet covering the mattress that took up most of the room. A pine dresser stood in the corner with a mirror on top.

I avoided looking at my reflection as I gathered the blanket to my chest.

This wasn’t like me.

I couldn’t remember the last time I wasn’t acutely aware of my surroundings. I didn’t wake up in unfamiliar places or in strange beds anymore. I paid attention and stayed on guard at all times. It was how I kept myself safe. I couldn’t afford to slip up.

Like now.

Breathe.

I inhaled slowly, trying to calm down. The masculine woodfire scent filled my nostrils. It was oddly soothing, reminding me to focus on the positive so I didn’t spiral out.

I looked down at my chest.

At least I was still clothed, wearing the dress I’d worn to Ember’s wedding/bonding thing. That meant that the dragon who’d taken me last night wasn’t some rape-y beast.

Hopefully.

The scent of bacon drifted into the room as I inhaled again, making my stomach rumble in protest. I couldn’t remember the last time I had bacon.

Or the last time I’d eaten at all. From the growls of my stomach, you’d think it’d been weeks.

I crawled the width of the bed before I swung my legs off the side. My bare feet touched the stone floors that were somehow warmed and pleasant. I stood, smoothing down the rumples of my dress despite my heart racing a mile a minute.

Drew would’ve told me to change before going out like this. But my narcissistic ex was the least of my worries now. The current threat was out there––probably somewhere with the bacon.

The dragon.

If he was like Kieran, he could shift into a human male. That thought made me shiver. I’d honestly rather face a dragon, but I knew it wasn’t reasonable to expect the beast that’d taken me to be able to fit inside what looked like a normal house judging from the size of the bedroom.

I spotted my purse on a chair in the corner of the room and felt a rush of relief.

Cross-body bags for the win.

He’d probably gone through and taken the knife, though.

I opened the clasp and dug inside, frowning when I saw everything as I’d left it.

Was this dragon guy stupid?

Why would he leave me armed?

And my phone was still in there.

I picked it up, cursing when I saw it was dead.

That made sense. He wouldn’t be able to search through the phone without a charger. Not that I’d give him my passcode anyway. That was one of the first things I’d done after leaving Drew, added a new passcode he didn’t know or have control over.

It felt liberating.

Holding the pocketknife in my hand gave me a bit of the same powerful feeling. I tested the blade, opening and closing it before taking a breath.

I wasn’t a victim. Not anymore.

And I’d never be one again.

∞

I tiptoed out of the bedroom, careful not to make any sound, and inched down the hall toward the smell of bacon and noise of pans clanking.

The knife was still in my hand as I rounded the corner to the kitchen.

Granite countertops, sage green cabinets set off with wood undertones, and plants on every window pane turned the kitchen into a cozy little space made even smaller by the beast of a man standing in front of the stove. He had almost a foot on me and was wider than two of me put together.

His bare back and broad shoulders rippled with muscles and tapered down into a trim waist, hugged by a pair of light gray sweatpants.

Ink in an intricate Celtic knot pattern crawled up his right shoulder and dipped under his ribcage. His long dirty-blond hair was messy as if he hadn’t bothered to style it this morning. He was barefoot too.

Barefoot and bare-chested and making bacon.

I quickly closed my mouth.

“Morning.” The deep timbre of his voice rumbled across my skin. He still sounded sleepy.

If he was anything like Drew, that meant I’d need to stay quiet until he fully woke up.

“You’re hungry,” the man said, looking over his shoulder. Bluish-green eyes pinned me in place. They were unnerving in their color, bright and arresting in their intensity. Like stained glass, so pretty you wanted to keep staring at them.

I forced myself to look down.

His jaw was huge, stubbled with the shadow of a beard, and an easy smile made my heart flutter.

I said nothing.

It was a statement, not a question anyway.

My stomach gurgled.

The man frowned.

Our gazes both dropped at the same time to my hand still holding the six-inch pocketknife.

It wasn’t going to do much damage. I wasn’t sure it’d even be able to pierce his solid looking flesh.

The man arched one of his heavy brows. Humor danced across his face. “I’m cooking as fast as I can.”

Mortified, I put my hands behind my back and breathed slowly through my nose. The tease of his words made me sick.

He doesn’t mean it like that.

Learn to take a joke.

“Have a seat.” The man motioned to the breakfast nook next to a large bay window that overlooked aspen trees and trimmed hedges outside. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

I gripped the knife tighter behind my back, knowing it was useless, but needing something to feel more in control. Licking my lips, I stood up straight.

“Are you the dragon who kidnapped me?” My voice came out dry and cracked, but I was proud of myself for speaking up.

“Are you going to stab me if I say yes?” The man returned to the sizzling skillet on the stove as if he wasn’t worried in the slightest if I stabbed him or not.

Anger rolled through me as I flicked the knife closed. “I’m assuming that’s a yes.”

He shrugged with one shoulder.

“You need to take me back,” I said, adding more strength to my tone.

“Aye. I will, love. But first you need to eat.” He motioned to the breakfast nook again as he cracked eggs into a bowl. “Sit and talk to me while I finish with these.”

What is happening?

I looked at the breakfast nook and then back to him. The window was open above the sink. A hummingbird came to the feeder hanging from the roof and the dragon-man started to whistle, drawing the bird’s attention as it drank.

I blinked.

“We can eat standing if you want.” He turned off the burner and started plating the bacon.

I stood there a moment longer, testing to see what his reaction would be. He resumed whistling that soft tune. The bird called a friend over. A breeze drifted through the trees in the garden just beyond the kitchen window.

Slowly, I made my way to the circular bench seat and sat, resting my arms on the wood table.

I must’ve fallen and hit my head.

Then I’d woken in some weird alternate reality where a hot, shirtless man sang to the birds like a frighteningly large Disney princess as he arranged thick slices of meat on a plate.

Don’t think about his meat.

He turned from the stove. My eyes immediately went to his gray sweatpants and the outline of the bulge underneath. He definitely wasn’t wearing boxers. There was a pulse, like he flexed as I perused, and my eyes shot back up.

“I didn’t know how you liked your eggs.” His voice was husky as he watched me.

Fertilized, apparently. Heat flushed my cheeks. “Whatever is fine.”

He frowned and my heart started beating for an entirely different reason. I was pushing too hard, too much.

“I mean, I like them multiple ways. All the ways. However you’d like to make them. I’m not picky. I’ll eat eggs.” Come on, Riley. Shut up.

That earned me a strange look and I lowered my face to the plate he slid in front of me.

Fresh strawberries sat next to a hunk of rustic looking bread drizzled with butter and honey. I hadn’t seen strawberries in years. Soft scrambled eggs with pepper and thick slices of real, honest-to-goodness bacon stared up at me, begging to be eaten.

I tried not to drool as I lifted my face again, waiting to see what the dragon-man would do.

He moved slowly, taking the seat across from me on the bench, and studied me with a curious expression. I felt more exposed than I ever had. Raw and vulnerable under his gaze.

It was too intense.

I picked up the fork, needing something to do with my hands. “Thank you for breakfast, Mr…”

He smiled as my voice trailed off. “Lucan O’Sullivan, but please call me Lucan. You already met my cousin Kieran. I’m not sure how much he told you about me.”

Absolutely nothing. A warning would’ve been nice.

“Lucan.” I nodded. “I’m Riley. The woman you kidnapped who’d really like to return to her friends and cat soon.”

“Riley,” he said, as if that was the only part he’d picked up. “It’s a beautiful name.”

Thanks. I didn’t choose it.

I kept my face neutral as I reached for the bacon. My blood was pumping faster. I wasn’t sure what his angle was or how I’d get out of this. If he refused to acknowledge he’d kidnapped me, would he ever bring me back?

I needed to figure out what he wanted.

“Eat before it gets cold,” Lucan said.

I bit into my bacon, holding back a moan as the salty explosion of heaven burst across my tongue.

Hello, old friend. It’s been a while.

I hadn’t had bacon in years and the taste was orgasmic.

Lucan coughed to clear his throat. The playfulness from his face was gone and I chewed in a hurry, wondering if this was the moment he’d reveal his true colors.

It usually happened like that. As soon as I tried to enjoy myself, things turned around.

You’d think I’d have learned the lesson by now.

He set down his fork and gave me a serious expression, one that showed there would be no room for argument. “Everyone has a preference on how they take their eggs.”